alejandro burromuerto x reader

One day she definitely knew the effect she had on me, even if she hadn’t before. I was writing an essay on The Grapes of Wrath and asked Mrs. B when she came by if a word was spelled correctly. She leaned over, her silky red hair brushing against my cheek and her breast lay against my left shoulder. My cock stiffened instantly—and uncomfortably. Without thinking, I reflexively reached down and maneuvered my throbbing dick into a more comfortable position. It did create a sizable tent pole in my pants that I tried to push down and hide, which only drew attention to my crotch. Mrs. B blushed noticeably, stood up while stifling a laugh and muttered an apology.

Sarah was staring a hole through her phone screen when her dad came home again that night. She knew that today was going to suck, but it didn’t help her at all knowing that in advance. All her schoolwork and tests were done in a daze, and her afterschool practice was abysmal. She felt like a drunk missing all the receives and shots she took. No doubt her friends were talking behind her back; despite the fact they told her to go home early if she wasn’t feeling well.How you doing, Sare-Bear?” Her dad asked tentatively.

“Because I was like you when I was young. My ego was as great as my powers, and I did awful things because I thought right and wrong didn’t apply to me. Then, when I was finally put on the right path and looked at myself, the guilt was unbearable, eating away at me like a swarm of goblins. My mentor, my predecessor as Light’s Emissary, helped me bear my pain and taught me to carry the guilt instead of dragging it behind me.