'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

[NSFW ALERT] feel free to skip if you are not comfortable

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Liam scooted closer with a slow glide, knees brushing against the soft sheets as his hand nudged at Mize’s shoulder.

His voice was light, too deliberate.

Teasing practically bled from his tone as if they were water.

“How was your sleep?”

“Shut upppp...” Mize groaned, voice muffled and high-pitched, as he rolled to the side.

His knees curled in defensively against his chest, arms locked around them like a barrier.

His hands still refused to leave his face.

The embarrassment clung to him like a second skin.

And the way Liam’s voice lilted, too amused, too knowing, told him everything he needed to know.

He’d been caught.

“You know…” Liam leaned in closer, slow and lazy, his face hovering just a few centimeters from Mize’s.

His breath was warm, brushing gently against Mize's flushed cheeks. “I just had the strangest dream.”

His eyes narrowed, glinting with mischief.

“And whatever that dream was… I’m already craving it again.”

A low chuckle escaped his mouth, velvet-smooth and insufferably smug.

Mize didn’t respond. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Couldn’t.

He was frozen stiff, only the occasional embarrassed whimper slipping through his fingers, tiny, pitiful sounds that betrayed just how far he was from keeping composure.

“Stop with the riddles... J-just keep quiet…” he pleaded, his voice cracking as he tried to shuffle further away, anything to escape this torment.

But Liam was faster.

With practiced ease, his hands slid around Mize’s waist and caught hold of his body.

In one swift motion, he sat back cross-legged, effortlessly lifting the flailing bundle of nerves into his lap.

Hic!

A tiny hiccup left Mize as his body jolted in surprise.

His limbs tensed like a deer caught mid-leap, but it was too late, he’d been hauled in.

Without consent. Without mercy.

Although, the word consent meant nothing to a person like this Yama Freak Lord.

And now, trembling, all he could do was bury himself deeper behind the fortress of his hands.

He swore he wouldn’t lower them.

Not until Liam was miles away.

Not a chance.

Liam let out a breathy hum, cradling Mize’s head gently against his shoulder.

His palm curved protectively around the nape, fingers threading through soft strands as his other hand stayed wrapped around the waist, keeping him steady, shielding him from a fall he hadn’t asked for.

“You know…” he murmured, voice low and intimate against Mize’s ear. “I didn’t forget what you told me before.”

A pause.

And the moment hung.

“You really should’ve known better than to fake sleep after the first spell I used on you.”

"It was ineffective the first time I did it"

Another soft chuckle slipped through Liam’s throat.

He leaned down just enough to press a kiss to the back of Mize’s hand, still stubbornly shielding his face.

“But it was exciting, wasn’t it?” Liam whispered, voice slow and sinful. “The way you just stayed there... and let me ravage that sweet little mouth of yours.”

“S-shut upppp!” Mize wailed, the cry muffled and desperate.

'Why does he have to be this annoying?'

'we were both enjoying it secretly!'

His hands clenched harder, but a tiny gap opened between two fingers, just enough for a peek of red cheeks and watery eyes to show through.

“P-please… just shut up and never mention it again after this…”

Liam laughed, a deep, honest one this time, tilting his head back slightly as the joy bubbled up from his chest.

“Alright, alright,” he grinned, nodding.

“Anything for you.”

He gently dragged his fingers through the back of Mize’s hair, letting them settle into a rhythm, soothing and slow.

A silent promise in every stroke.

“I won’t bring it up again... if you show me your utmost focus in today’s battle training. Deal?”

Mize squirmed in his lap, a whine tangled in his throat. “D-Deal...” he squeaked, voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the two of them stayed like that. Tangled together in a strange, peaceful quiet.

Half an hour passed like a heartbeat, wrapped in warmth, softness, and the occasional tremble of embarrassment that never quite faded.

So, what did happen?

Well, to put it simply.

Mize had been faking it.

While Liam stirred awake, he stayed perfectly still, pretending to sleep.

He hadn’t expected anything to happen… but the moment Liam’s tongue had touched his lips, the moment those kisses deepened, his body betrayed him.

His instincts took over.

He moved with it.

Craved it.

But he hated the idea of being aware by that time, so he kept quiet.

Still, he kept up the act, not realizing Liam had been trying to cast a sleeping spell every few minutes... spells that failed every single time.

And that’s when Liam knew.

From the very first try, he knew.

But he didn’t say a word.

He played along. Acted just as well. And in the end, both of them had gotten what they wanted.

Even if neither of them was brave enough to say it out loud.

Not yet.

The silent was loud, perhaps the loudest thing being heard at this moment.

But then, Mize parted his hands away, his face shy, red, fuming like a potato.

"T-then"

Mize shifted in Liam’s arms, breathing uneven, as though his body already knew what it wanted long before his mouth could form the words.

With trembling hands, he guided Liam’s down, slow, hesitant, almost fearful, but when their fingers brushed against that sensitive region through the fabric, Mize flinched like lightning had struck his spine.

His vagina was wet, especially from the kiss before.

And right now, he was craving for more and more.

Perhaps he had lost his mind already. But Liam obeyed with a mix of suprise a ecstasy.

No clothes were taken off.

But the barrier between them felt thinner than ever.

Mize parted his thighs slightly.

“Touch me…” he whispered, voice barely more than breath, “…right there.”

Liam’s hand hovered a moment longer, heat rising from Mize’s body like it was calling to him.

Then he gently pressed down, fingers flattening lightly over the soaked fabric.

The moment contact was made, Mize sucked in air sharply, his entire form curling slightly as though a current had surged through his core.

His thighs squeezed together instinctively, trapping Liam’s hand in place.

The wetness beneath his fingers was warm, startlingly so, already seeping into the cloth like spilled honey.

Liam didn’t move at first.

He simply rested his palm there, letting the weight of it speak.

Feeling the heat, the dampness, the subtle trembling beneath.

Mize’s breath hitched again, his chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow.

Then slowly, almost cruelly slow, Liam began to move, his fingers rubbing the fabric of the clothes, precisely spot on where the clam opening was.

His fingers traced the shape beneath the fabric, dragging up gently, as if mapping the curve of that sensitive groove with reverent.

Then down. Then up again, this time with a little more pressure.

Mize whimpered.

He had never felt this type of sensation before...

'A woman's body is crazy... '

His hips jerked slightly in response, trying to remain still but failing.

Failing miserably at that.

Liam felt it, the way his body quivered with every slow pass of his fingers.

The way his breath trembled. How the tips of his ears had gone red, and how his hands were now gripping Liam’s shirt in tight little fists.

The strokes continued, light and steady at first, like whispers skimming over parchment, but then Liam adjusted his fingers, curling them ever so slightly to add weight at the center of that seam.

The slit.

A jolt tore through Mize, his legs twitching as a small cry spilled from his lips.

His eyes screwed shut, and he bit his lower lip until it turned pale, doing everything he could not to writhe too obviously in Liam’s arms.

“You’re this sensitive already?” Liam murmured.

Mize’s answer was a shaky breath that barely held itself together.

His body was coiling tighter and tighter, like a string being pulled to its breaking point.

Liam’s fingers began a rhythm. Up and down.

Not fast, teasing.

He’d slow just when Mize started to lose himself, then press harder, forcing another breathy sound to slip out.

Each motion dragged wetness along the fabric, clinging and sticking with a sinful kind of friction.

The sound of it, faint, squishy, hidden under layers of clothes, was obscene in the silence.

Then Liam shifted his angle slightly, pressing two fingers against the upper part of the flesh.

He rotated them slowly, rubbing gentle circles, then reversed, pulling a soft, shuddering moan out of Mize’s throat.

His hips bucked without permission. The reaction was immediate, desperate.

Mize’s face was flushed down to his collarbone now.

He could barely breathe.

One hand was still clutching Liam’s shirt, the other had moved to cover his own mouth, but it couldn’t hide the trembling gasps that spilled past his fingers.

And still, Liam didn’t stop.

He picked up pace, only a little, moving with more intent now.

Rubbing harder, dragging the fabric with each stroke, pressing down where it counted, watching with fascination how Mize’s thighs refused to stay still.

“Mize,” Liam whispered, eyes dark with affection and lust, “you’re making the cutest sounds.”

“D-don’t s-say that…” Mize whimpered, voice cracking.

His legs were now visibly shaking.

The pressure was unbearable.

That touch, gentle, firm, perfect, was sending waves of something molten through his body.

His lower stomach tightened, twisted, burned with aching pleasure.

And Liam could feel it.

He pressed his fingers firmly against that drenched spot, started stroking faster now, short, concentrated movements that focused only on the heart of that trembling, twitching place.

Every slide of his hand built on the last, each movement dragging Mize closer and closer to the edge.

Then, just as Mize’s breath stuttered, he slowed again.

Light strokes.

Bare pressure.

Just enough to drive him insane.

“L-Liam…” Mize gasped, hips moving involuntarily, seeking more. “P-please… don’t tease me like this"

Liam leaned close, lips brushing the edge of Mize’s ear. “I won’t my little slut princess."

And when Mize heard this, he didn't refuse the term. Since he is Liam's little slut!

The pace returned, steady and sure, this time unrelenting.

Wet friction, rapid movement, warm pressure, each stroke fanned the fire already raging inside Mize.

His legs opened more on their own, surrendering.

His eyes rolled back slightly, tongue slipping out as a whimper cracked through the air.

And then.

He tensed.

Everything in him clenched all at once. His back arched, legs shook, and a long, strangled moan spilled from his lips, high and breathy and utterly helpless.

He ejaculated. Like a dam being broken, the water burst into Liam's hand, drenching his lap and clothes.

The wave hit hard.

Mize's body trembled in Liam’s arms, chest heaving, face melted into a perfect mess of dazed bliss.

His mouth hung open slightly, tongue resting against his lip, lashes fluttering like he was trying to recover from drowning in too much air.

For a moment, nothing moved.

Then he sagged against Liam, breathless, glowing, and still twitching every now and then from aftershocks.

His lips parted with a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded, dazed.

"M-more... " he breathed out, utterly gone.