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kalims · 15 days ago

Text

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu), a yummy 5.8k words that I did not expect to get this long lol

note. I only have a rough outline of what's going to be included with the others parts after the names of the kids lol. I'll probably write leona's as usual after this but I can't promise I'll release one more part after his this month, the rest will probably come next month considering I'm bombarded sadge. paper defense, then final exams next month save me

also hello! my unnofficial: I'll try to post more

late edit: comment if you want to get tagged <3

riddle

when you slid a foot over the portal to heartslabyul there’s some sort of a strange–inexplicable air that surrounds it. usually the dimension is light to be in, unlike the tingling feelings of being in octavinelle or the eeriness of ignihyde. all dormitories had their own particular sensation that weighs on you depending on where you were.

you squinted, deciding to shrug it off. there was no way you had a sixth sense for feeling in the literal air!

barely a foot in though, was something you could only explain as an army of card… soldiers trudging from the other end of the sidewalk to the next. dumbly, you stopped right in front the shimmering portal that settles into a smooth sheen of silver behind you as they just kept coming.

they seemed to be looking for something–or whatever but you don’t really want to know what so you slowly inched to the side, hoping to sneak past them even if you had to go into one of the confusing mazes (which was a struggle considering you’re trying not to laugh as one of them trips).

must be ace’s wretchedness rubbing off of you.

the real question was, where in the seven were your resident idiots? you’d already sent a text over for your impromptu visit to the chat consisting of you three and figured they had seen it like they usually do then waited for you with feigned begrudging-ness that does not fit well with them showing up in the first place.

you fish for your sad excuse for a phone in your pocket, cater’s words not yours. you’re more busy trying to merge your backside as you shuffle and pull up the chat to notice the ever nearing edge of the hedge wall that makes you stand out in comparison to the lighter shade of green brushing against your uniform.

not deuce: you guys ever notice the card soldiers infestation near ur mirror portal…?

not ace: you nedea to RNR RUN RN!!

not yuu: what???

there’s not much time to ponder about the cryptic, seemingly panicked expression of deuce’s message as you looked up from your phone, feeling a slight chill crawl up to your spine like you attracted some sort of unwarranted trouble that is also unwanted.

disclaimer: you (uu) did

“over here!” an unfamiliar voice yells, freezing you in your tracks just when you were about to make the sneak of the century. without a moment’s hesitation you darted deeper into the maze and shoved your device within the confines of your pockets as you held in a mortified scream at the sudden mob upon your tail as you ran.

WHY WAS THERE SO MANY? you yelled in your mind. number one rule in horror games don’t look back. don’t look back. don’t look back–

oh sevens you’re looking back.

the decision immediately fills you with regret when you spot the diabolical amount of card soldiers trailing after you like you just slaughtered their queen in front of whatever kingdom they came from! was this someone’s unique magic? there was no way riddle would let this sort of thing go rampant on his dorm!

you almost keel over in shock when the pointy end of a heart on the end of a pole sticks right on the patch of grass you just barely managed to trudge across with increasingly heavier steps. maybe you should actually take jack’s offer to join track and field–your stamina is horrible–you’re gonna get stabbed.

goodbye world. you thought warmly with a chorus of pants.

a deeper voice bellowed from the crowd from your behind. “three of hearts! are you thin-headed? do not harm the majesty!” the steps behind you stop almost abruptly, and you don’t stop running even as the voices fade. idiots for choosing to chastise their idiotic comrade but you’re not complaining as long as you get away from this horrid situation.

your majesty what now?

you don’t know how far you ran by sticking to all left turns until you flop down on the entrance of the maze, the archway barely offering you any relief as you took deep breaths and fought the urge to lay down on the grass and hope it camouflages your grey uniform.

that won’t work but you’re coping at this point.

not deuce: HELLO I ALMOST GOT SKEWERED BY LITERAL CARDS?

not yuu: that’s a humiliating way to go down from

not ace: don’t be insensitive ace! are you ok?!

not deuce: NO? WHAT IS GOING ON

not yuu: riddle got dethroned and i'm not even happy

not yuu: it's the absolute WORST AT THE DORM!

not yuu: you better turn back rn and get away from ‘labyul coz it’s getting run by a kid

not deuce: BACK INTO THAT DEATH MOB? no thanks

not ace: yuu brace up, cater texted that the new boss is on his way to you

not yuu: F for yuu

not ace: F

not deuce: F u

what you expect to be the final boss of your life, you guess from the approaching pairs of footsteps nearing your defeated form sprawled across the flecks of grass and still heaving comes in a surprising form of softness, and youth.

“mada.”

the blueness of the sky is shadowed by a tiny little head peering over your head. you’re startled by the tuff of red hair, and familiar pair of eyes which was strange, considering you have never seen this kid in your life. this was the new queen of heartlsabyul? you thought incredulously, since when were kids allowed in nrc…?

the thought was a breeding ground to raise the most evil person on the planet, considering the equally as evil people in night raven.

out of habit from the familiar chubby, round face you blurted: “riddle?”

the child blinked before they shook your head. “I am not papa.” their lips twitched into a small smile directed to you. if taken a closure look, this child’s resemblance with riddle really is uncanny. from the hair, even to a small golden crown sitting primly on the middle of their head. “mada, I am glad I found you. I have not seen papa yet.”

was this season 5 of stranger things?

they straightened. attention straying from you as you glanced to the other pairs of legs, whom you put a face to quickly. trey and cater both cast you a look of exasperation and pity.

then done like a true riddle–their face does a complete 360 and curls into anger as they stared off inside the maze. “all of you!” the tiny child rages with a concerning… change of color around their cute face, fingers pointed accusingly. how can a child be so horrifyingly scary?

the two third years do not mirror your confusion as you sat up, following the kid’s gaze to the archway where a myriad of thundering footsteps almost have you scampering away if not for them laying a small hand on your shoulder and somehow managing to ground you to stay still.

whose kid is this? you looked to cater who shakes his head uselessly

then to trey who wore a resigned smile.

the child’s brow twitches when the card soldiers lined up obediently. “I thought I had made it clear you not hurt mada.” they seethed, voice tilting in clear threat and a I demand you! sort of way. the card solider, three of hearts who had scared the living soul out of you trembled less subtle compared to the other guards.

of course this child had to get more terrifying by being observant, they caught the shiver of one soldier and narrowed their eyes. “ah, found the culprit. three of–”

trey shuffles forward with an awkward laugh that belies his usual laid back with–on his face is a twinge of concern as he raises his palms in a placating gesture. he steps forward three more times, sliding between the child and the line of soldiers but keeping the distance warily. “hey, kid. maybe we can discuss this with some tarts, and some tea?” he tries. children love sweets, right?

they keep their head level despite the astounding height difference. “I told you, uncle trey! being called ‘kid’ is disorderly! It's alice!” still, despite the brief protest their eyes sparkled with interest at the notion, even if they seemed a bit embarrassed to admit it. “i’m not supposed to eat sweets on mondays.”

“huh.” cater mumbled before the thin line of his lips rose into a familiar grin. “as in, rule 102 of the queen?” he queries with a nervous slide of his fingers through his hair. he’s not so obvious to directly state that he’s tiptoeing around… alice but a bit of months knowing him, you can tell.

alice nods along. they no longer look as bothered as before, the card soldiers all slump their tense shoulders a little when alice shifts their piercing gaze from the three of hearts before settling onto cater, who they offer a brief nod of agreement before returning back to trey.

well, a kid is a kid.

“but i can eat sweets on tuesdays.” they added hastily. like they don’t want the notion of trey’s treats slipping from their fingers but that would be strange, if the look of confusion you three share with each other you would have thought trey had initially baked for alice based off the tone of wistfulness in their tone.

trey smiles at them. “tomorrow it is.” reassured by their sheepish innocence he stops in front of them and grasps their shoulders, turning them away from the stiff soldiers. alice spares a brief glance at them. “what about these rule breakers?”

you stood up fully. “uh, don’t worry, they didn’t do anything wrong. i ran for too long.” you supplied in defense. if anything , a resemblance to riddle of all people meant that they could have the head offing in their blood. you did not want to stick around to find out, neither did cater.

alice considers you for a moment with a small sparkle in their eyes, with a wave of the small wand that maternalized in their hand, the soldiers fade into glittering spots of gold. only then do they let trey lead them back to the main pathway towards the dormitory of heartslabyul.

you fall into step behind cater who probably sees the question in your eyes so he lowers his voice discreetly, glancing at the back of trey who keeps the child’s bay attention so they don’t notice you two slowing down a little. nonetheless, still walking.

“that was little alice’s unique magic.” he says to you with a shrug, sighing after a glance at the former’s small, regal form. “pretty overpowered… kind of like my split card but less cute, and more dangerous.”

he winked, you frowned.

in front of you two, alice seems tame in comparison to the subtle bribing of trey questioning about their favorite sweets as you all finally reached the nearing entrance of the main dormitory

“where’s riddle?” you questioned.

he pursed his lips, navigating though the fountain in front of the dorm. “last i know, he went out early to campus cause of a meeting with his club for the upcoming NRC tour festival…”

oh, right. I have not found papa. alice’s voice echoes in your mind, so you echo the question that appears in your mind right after the memory. “alice called riddle ‘papa’ which i’m pretty sure is a term for a parent…” you trailed off. riddle seemed to be the least likely person to have a secret love child of some sorts, he seemed like he had most of his life planned out.

if riddle bent over backwards for his rules then he wouldn’t stray from the path he had set.

there’s a flash of interest in cater’s eyes, it was already there before, just dwindled. you watch it spark to life. akin to lighting some sort of fire within the guy, a gossipmonger at heart as he leaned in eagerly just as you both trudged up the stairs to the front doors who opened politely, and closed behind you as you walked in the main hall of heartslabyul.

“they look, and act like riddle!” he chuckles. “imagine our shock when alice popped up straight out of nowhere with an army at their beck and call.” cater clutched onto his arms, and shivered. you leaned away when he reaches his arms out to you in a teasing manner.

he adds. not at all offended by the way you scrunch your face at his ‘affections’. “they seem to listen to you though. like someone.”

you only regard him with an impassive raise of your brows. “i don't think so. riddle doesn’t listen to anyone. much less me.” befuddled by the mere idea, you scoffed. in all your magic-less glory, the best thing you might have achieved here in this other dimension was having the ability to wake leona kingscholar up from one of his power naps.

cater doesn’t seem to agree. only sighing at you from what it seems to be an of course. “only you can be so oblivious to the chaos you leave behind.” he says in response, making an exaggerated show of peering behind your shoulder and widening his eyes in feigned shock.

you humor him as you turned your head. the scene of the main entrance of the dormitory was the only answer to your eyes as you both walked into the living room–where little alice sits alone. you caught a glimpse of trey’s dark hair as he disappeared into the kitchen, most likely going off to make her a treat.

vaguely unsure if the male had heard him, cater calls out a “make us some too!”

“not my fault the students here are so… unstable.” you remarked with a roll of your eyes. remembering the overblots to be the most plausible reference to the chaos cater was talking about as you begrudgingly sat down on the couch and reeled in any other remarks for the child in the room.

who was now shuffling closer to your seated frame even if they thought they were being subtle in the movement.

what was two seats in the space between you and alice eventually became none at all, as they settled beside you and peered up with innocent eyes.

you tilted your head at them, alice copies the movement.

then to the other side.

they mirror the lull of your head.

“besides those.” cater cleared his throat after a bewildered glance at the child. “what’s more impressive is that you’re still here, yuu-yuu. night raven is like… a pack of wolves trying to run you off crying, and you? you’re a very weird sheep.”

still a bit enraptured on this child, you replied without your stare wavering from the roundness of alice’s cheek as you reached up to pinch it. to yours, and cater’s surprise. their previous cute ferociousness is not present at all as they leaned against the warmth as though instinctive. “i didn’t do anything.”

you don’t entertain the accusing look in cater’s eyes.

“if that was you not trying to beast tame the school then i don’t know what’ll happen if you put in the effort.”

you both lapse into silence as cater–who seemed to sense the finality of the conversation lets it slip fully and instead, busies himself with the entertainments his phone provided. you redirect your full attention onto the elusive red-headed alice.

“so,” you started. “how did you end up here? must be a great feat if you were able to go past the barriers.”

alice curls their fingers within the fabric of your blazer, inspecting it as they reply softly. “i’m not sure, mada. i was just sleeping, and woke up in a garden. the hedgehogs showed me the way after i offered them a caterpillar.” they do not mention a bleary moment in their sleep where they curiously wondered how you and riddle came to be as they drifted off. “as pertaining by rule 210… if you are lost in a maze, give the hedgehogs an offering and they shall show you the way.”

you can’t help but let your mind drift over to riddle, who echoes the rules to be followed when mentioned.

your lips twitch into a smile, much to the delight of alice. “strange indeed. must have been scary.”

their eyes squinted. “i’m not scared.”

you chuckled and pinched their cheek. they pout.

“where are you from?” you ask instead, wanting to know more about the.. figurative alice from nowhere.

alice looks at you strangely.

“from the queendom of roses…” could they simply be a relative of riddle’s? you thought mindlessly. drawing your fingers through the surprising soft red locks who seemingly part eagerly for your touch. “with my mada, and my papa. sometimes my uncles visit.”

unsure of how to reply, you merely nod along. parting their hair by half and twisting it into a braid. “you called me mada.” you hummed.

“because you are my mada.”

she says like it’s the only thing that makes sense in her small world, not relinquishing her grip on your blazer but instead tugging at the wrists to expose the small slither of skin and hold onto it. clingy. you thought, deciding not to question it.

… was this your freaking kid?

the smell of strawberries wafts over the space of the living room alongside the ticking of the oven–momentarily taking both alice, and cater’s attention. the latter stretches before standing to stride over to the source of the smell, no doubt requesting trey to change the taste once more.

alice’s eyes, like yours slid to your own. a bit shy in their demeanor as they clutched onto the skin of your wrist. “can i eat some of uncle’s tarts?” they queried under your breath, only meant for you alone. you felt a bit confused but nodded nonetheless.

their lips twitched into an eager smile before it settles into a more controlled look of impassiveness.

that was adorable. you thought, unable to resist leaning down to scoop them into your arms as you stood. alice makes a sound of brief surprise before their arms loop around your neck. they sat pliantly still as you walked over to follow cater inside the kitchen, catching a glimpse of your scent that they sought for, so alice nuzzles their face into the warm pulse on your neck.

trey glances up from the animated retelling of cater about the crazy day. “new responsibility?” he wore a humored smile, apron long discarded and folded over the handle of the oven for the meantime.

if riddle saw this, he would not believe it no matter how intelligent he was. trey deduced.

he gestures to the tray set on the counter. “there’s frosted strawberries, blueberry cornmeal, and the good old mont blanc since i got left over ingredients from the last unbirthday party.”

alice feels the shift of your head as you glanced down at them, they don’t remove their head from the crevice of your neck for a moment and meets your eyes with a raise of their own. “frosted strawberries, please.”

“good choice, little alice.” cater comments.

“careful, it’s hot.” trey chided gently as he watched you pick up one of them, drawing it near alice’s waiting hunger as they tilted their head up from your shoulder. they took a small bite at the corners of the tart, smiling at the taste and only wider when you wiped remnants of crumbs around the edges of their mouth.

alice chews, and swallows before they spoke again. their eyes gleaming with admiration as they stared at trey. “it’s always the yummiest when it’s fresh out the oven.” they recited.

trey blinks.

“you’re a bright one.” he remarked, ruffling their hair when he drew near. “don’t tell anyone about the wicked secret ‘round the kitchen, all right?”

they nodded vigorously. “thank you, uncle..” they spewed politely, but evidently genuine.

cater munches from the other end of the counter. “we gotta protect alice,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling as he pointed his phone to you, tapping to snap a picture of the scene despite your warning stare. “too nice for the vultures we call students here.”

“you might be right.” trey shook his head, and you nodded mutely. more absorbed into letting them take bite by bite into the tart until it was about finished halfway. only then do you lay it back on the tray. how much sweets was ideal for a child to take anyway? regardless of you deeming it as enough, alice stays quiet and does not complain.

if they wanted more, you wouldn’t know.

“later.” you promised, leaning back when you were satisfied with their prim appearance. a pat of their hair to smooth down trey’s earlier disruption.

“later..” alice echoed.

a resident third year enters the kitchen. only to pause in their tracks and back away.

“domesticity is really the enemy of the students here.” cater sniffed, earning a chuckle from trey who found the comment funny. “imagine being happy, being broody and emotional are the real requirements to get admitted.”

cater finishes his snack with a pleased hum, and a grateful nod to trey. “by the way i messaged adeuce, sent them to stall dorm leader from going back as long as the dorm was… kind of in a wre–predicament.” he cleared his throat, casting a brief glance at alice to spot if they had taken offence to his almost uttered word.

“so now they’re en-route?” trey guessed, transferring the leftover tarts to a glass bowl. leaving the tray in the sink to wash for later. cater nods in response, typing on his phone with one hand. likely in cahoots with the two right now. “told them the coast was clear! no more trampling soldiers scampering around.”

trey eyed him. “what about the–”

just then, whatever trey was going to comment in rebuttal of cater’s easy reassurance was promptly interrupted by new individuals peeking inside. ace, and deuce poked their heads from the corner. as if trying to ascertain the danger level of whatever may be inside.

ace rougly nudges deuce when he spots you with a child in arms. for two people insisting on their unique, varying selfs. they mirror each other’s look of bewilderment as though their brain cells crackled and connected into a singular one. “what the seven?” ace mouthed.

you all do not notice the look of familiarity on alice’s face.

nor the brightening when riddle strides in with a petulant huff,

if riddle thought strangely, or disapproved of the two’s behavior then he wouldn’t have had the chance to comment on it before he was leveling trey with a sharp, inquisitive stare. “i would like a very good explanation as to why my hedges have been mangled to the ground.” his eye twitches with the effort of containing irritation. “three hours i’ve been gone. three! and when i enter heartslabyul the first thing i see is devastation upon my gardens!”

perhaps emotionally, riddle cried out in the last sentence.

even though such an expression should have frightened a child to some degree, alice relaxes in your arms but their face clouds in shame at his voice.

riddle whirls back to the other two lingering by the doorway who both flinches imperceptibly–cater tries to intercept with a nervous chuckle but is only met with a steely don’t even start! “ace, and deuce have me running around the school. saying something about yuu getting kidnapped by those.. vermin excuses of… students from octavinelle!" riddle seethed, breathing still a bit labored as favor of his statement about running around.

“dorm leader!” ace stood straight stiffly.

oh, did he just come from a frantic search in octavinelle?

“i even had to threaten collaring azul who i thought was lying about yuu.” with a deep intake of air, riddle breathes out and pinches the bridge of his nose, collecting his temper. much to the chagrin of deuce.

“we apologize.” deuce added sadly.

cater feigns ignorance by looking away but it’s trey’s look that has him adding to the defense of the two, rather than using the opportunity to scamper away with his head in tact. “ahem… we had these two keep you busy. so don’t be too harsh on them, riddle. us upperclassmen will take responsibility.”

a nod of agreement from trey gets riddle quiet.

the former tilts his chin to you. “yuu is fine, they’re right here.”

like he hadn’t even noticed before (he really didn’t), riddle’s head snaps to you immediately. his eyes would have been stuck to you, prodding for a valid explanation to your ignorance to his angry calls but instead, settles on the bundle in your arms.

“who…” a blink. “why in the world do you have a child! they are not welcome on school grounds! especially this time in the school year–.” riddle sputtered, instinctively sauntering over to take a closer look at alice who only stared without an inch of fear.

“papa.” they mumbled, voice measured but still echoing in the now quiet kitchen.

ace leapt up to your side. “that’s not right!” he gasped, squinting dangerously at riddle. any traces of earlier mortification gave way to whatever emotion he’s got on his face. “how could you sully yuu! they’re not a babysitter for your kid!”

“what?” riddle seethed, head flicking from ace, to you, then to alice.

despite a look of great reluctance, deuce nods from the doorway still. mumbling to himself. “dorm… dorm leader has a child…”

you vaguely remember trey offering the dazed guy a glass of water.

“unconfirmed earlier, confirmed now.” cater adds unhelpfully to the blazing fire of riddle’s rising anger.

riddle’s teeth grind together, jaw clenching as his fingers tightened into a fist. it was more of one his attempts at calming down rather than preparation for a physical alteration. “I did no such–!”

“don’t be mad at mada.” alice reaches for him, tugging at his blazer which surprisingly, quells the reddening of his face. now, he just looks a bit confused.

alice turns their head slightly. “mada, you can calm down papa.”

deuce paused before dropping to the ground.

“AH! he’s dead. this is why you don’t betray us by keeping secrets, yuu!”

“uh oh… trey help me with deuce… wait, should we just leave him? i mean, he’ll be just fine here, right?”

“... just take the other arm, cater.”

all the way back to the living room, riddle’s face remained tinged with warmth. alice, while reluctant to part with your embrace, seemed wholly pleased to stay by the other red-heads' side. insisting you sit next to him when you moved to sit by your two friends.

you obliged them despite riddle’s interest with the carpet.

the couch dipped at the weight of another. even so, the non-verbal conversation between alice, and riddle continued. the former pressed their lips together thinly, seemingly assessing the… youthfulness of the latter. they aren’t so used to this kind of look from him.

cater flinched, and look away from the flash of his phone. he elbows a dazed deuce.

“so,” ace cleared his throat, blinking his still wide eyes. “who the heck is this kid?!”

“language.” riddle chided sharply. though softened from its usual end even he isn’t so sure why it is from the mere presence of alice alone.

“rule 13, always present yourself with appropriate language.”

“always present yourself with appropriate language.” alice repeated.

riddle squinted at a relaxed alice, who tilts their head as if to ask ‘what?’.

“genetics is crazy. what’s next, the kid beheads us too?” ace points between the two.

alice shrugged. “only if you break the rules.”

“i do not have a child!” riddle protested.

“i am your child.” replied alice.

“apparently this one’s our kid.” you agreed begrudgingly.

riddle stares at you with a mixture of disbelief, and confusion.

darting between you and the kid like they're gonna start collating him in all his glory! sure, alice had red hair like him but quite a lot of people in the island have it too besides his relatives. the idea of… of him and you is just so out of this world that he can't wrap his head around it.

you? you who he hadn't paid attention to when you arrived at the ceremony? the very first person in that event that broke the rules? you, the very fading into the background student whom he believed to be a bad influence to his students ace, and deuce?

you he had almost hurt beyond repair at the bursting of his control so tightly held in his hands?

the brief skip of his heart when your eyes meet over the head of alice is enough to send blood rushing to his head, coloring it with his signature red whose warmth doesn't feel like the usual simmering anger he struggles to keep submerged. if anything, this feeling is practically leaping out the water and baring his face to everyone.

riddle does not look away. managing a look of what he tries to name as conviction but easily crumbles to fluster.

then the idea wasn't so bad considering this young child has proved to be raised dutifully, correctly without any worries of what he used to be burdened with as a child.

it gives way to curiosity.

despite his incredulously, riddle queries. “the gardens.” he starts with a measured narrow to his eyes, not too intense to possibly upset this.. future child of his whose eyes are strikingly familiar enough to halt the normal circulation of his heart once more for half a second. “were you responsible for the destruction of some hedges I've come across?”

alice shrinks into themselves. “i'm sorry papa.” they pursed their lips, voice genuine by the lower tilt. “i thought i could use my card soldiers to look for you, and mada. you told me about this place called heartslabyul before?”

“i have?” riddle blinks. the idea isn't too bizarre, it's only natural to think back on such things.

they nodded. “yes, papa. you talk about it a lot on our friday’s. about how it looked, how you were as it's dorm leader…” alice peeks a glance at you. “and your parties with mada.”

“unbirthday parties.” trey corrects. “sometimes birthday parties if it really is someone's birthday.”

ace perks up. “let me tell you then! from first hand experience!” he blanched. like opening light about his own struggles in heartlsabyul magically meant the truth to riddle’s own kid. “labyul is really strict on rules. you know on my first day, I ate a tart and—”

deuce stirred slightly.

at riddle’s glare, ace visibly wilts to which cater snaps a picture with snickers. “I mean… the tart was really good, made by riddle and all…” he sweatdropped.

“you shouldn't eat a tart that is not made by you.” alice replied thoughtfully. riddle can't resist a light smile at her words, feeling a sense of accomplishment as he nodded along. his hand hovers for a moment before it pats down on their hair. “that's right. I must have taught you well.”

you absentmindedly patted their head, taking turns with riddle to do so while expertly avoiding his gaze. “you said friday though, why?”

“on friday’s we don’t go out.” alice says.

“that isn’t a rule by the queen of hearts.” riddle points out.

“you made that rule papa.” they replied innocently. “in our home, so we get to spend time together as a family.”

silence reigns.

“wow.” you cough. sparing riddle an approving glance. that… sounded nice… domestic, and nice. you supposed even as an adult riddle would still have some sort of grip on rules, considering he grew up with them, it helped him live.

and now rules he shaped helped him live with alice, and you apparently.

tick.

tock.

tick.

tock.

alice peers down at the watch they pull out from under their little adorable coat, oblivious to the stunned silence they left behind. hesitantly, they place a hand on your knee, legs swinging as they rest the other on riddle’s. “mada.” they smiled, this time widely. “papa. I gotta go.”

“what?” riddle's eyes widened. “you haven't finished your tart yet.”

“it's okay. I already ate a tart earlier, papa.”

“you can eat another, just this time. if you want.” he insisted, strangely worried.

cater raises his hand. “can I?”

riddle disagrees immediately. “no.”

muttering something about favoritism, cater looked away with a long sigh.

riddle's eyes lingered on the roundness of alice's face. from the shape, to the more detailed parts of their features. eyes, your eyes. the lushness of their hair, the soft curve of their lips tilted with innocence sends an unexpected grip in his heart, like it's heart stopping.

gosh. his heart just stopped. would he really have his own alice? his eyes darted to you. with you?

alice huffed lightly, skin glimmering lightly as their shade slowly grew transculent and faded with each blink of your eyes. “I can always eat papa's tarts. they're so delicious.”

“don't use too much magic.” riddle scolded with a crease in his brows.

you add. “don't anger riddle too much.”

“please eat his tarts.” ace encouraged.

trey shot him a look. “don't teach alice bad things.” he sighed, glancing at said child with a smile. “I'll teach you how to make your own tarts, ask uh… future me?”

cater, not wanting to be outdone quickly perked up. “as a future magicam star, I'll make you one too. little alice!” he added, self assured of his future fame.

when it all settles, all that remains is a space between you and riddle that feels too little than vast. and a remainder of your future.

“atleast we know what name we'll choose.” you can't resist but tease. riddle does not blow up like you would have thought from your remark, only sparing you a look of feigned annoyance with warming ears that doesn't support the idea of his irritation.

he resigns to a small nod. “I am assured they are taught well.”

ace glances between you, and riddle. “I miss alice already. riddle seemed a lot more lenient with them around. you think they got embarrassing stories from the future?” he comments off-handedly, leaning back against the couch and blowing on the fringe over his forehead. “when are you guys gonna make an alice? please make one now.”

cater whistles out of there.

trey shakes his head.

deuce–still passed out is thankfully considered by trey, who dragged his limp body with a nod of goodluck to ace.

you waved at ace. F indeed.

wait! don't leave me, upperclassman! ace cried in his mind, feeling the panic splinter his state of mind.

“ACE!” riddle gritted his teeth. “i'll hand down my sentence, the verdict comes afterwards–”

ace paled.

“off with your head–!”

trivia

alice’s name is very much inspired by alice from the one and only: “alice in wonderland”.

their unique magic is called: under my decree which is simply being able to summon card soldiers, and command them at their will! (in this case, after being sent to a maze and finding their way out thanks to the hedgehog. alice was able to discern that this was heartlsabyul, and figured they might be able to find their parents here, hence, why they used their magic.)

alice is written to be a well-behaved 8 year old.

the watch is a nod to my previous commissioned work who also dealt with the concept of time travelling and related to going back (ha, ha).

alice woke up by the sound of a clock ticking, and knew that hearing it again meant that their time was up.

the entire thing happened due to alice helping untangle a fae who happened to get stuck in their gardens at the backyard while they were looking for a hedgehog that had not yet eaten (spoiler: hedgehog was hiding in a small crack under the tree) the same fae visited them at night whilst sleeping and granted them a dream of whatever they wanted to wish. alice, feeling swayed by the magic despite being not aware made a wish to fulfill it.

boom! baby rosehearts in your faces!

alice woke up and immediately said young riddle was funnily shy to yuu. much to the confusion of actual current riddle!

their favorite tart is: anything with strawberries, like riddle.

rule 13, and rule 102 are entirely fictional and made up by me… for plot purposes…

not deuce = is actually yuu

not yuu = is actually ace

not ace = is actually deuce

deuce been sleeping for the entire time lol.

ace got roped into fixing the gardens with the collar on #thatswhatyouget

riddle invites you to study for the nearing quiz season the following day.

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beloveds-embrace · 5 months ago

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(Thinking real hard about Simon not even noticing when you go from “his girl” to “the missus”)

The barracks were quiet, save for the occasional clink of mugs and low murmurs as they gathered around their makeshift kitchen table. It was a rare, slow night- a chance to unwind, talk, and for once, not think about missions or war zones.

Ghost sat leaned back in his chair, mask pulled halfway up so he could sip his tea. Soap was mid-rant about some pub brawl he’d witnessed last time he was on leave, but Simon wasn’t paying much attention. His mind was elsewhere: back home, where you were probably curled up on the couch with your favorite weighed blanket that you only pulled out when he wasn’t there, watching one of those dramas you loved.

“So, Lt,” Soap said, snapping his fingers to grab his attention. “What’s your girl been up to? Still bakin’ those little cookies you’re obsessed with? No chance for me ta ask her ta send me some, too?”

Without thinking, Ghost answered: “The missus made a batch last week. Sent some with me- bloody good, too. You’re not getting them, MacTavish.”

There was a beat of silence. A rare silence.

Price raised an eyebrow, his cigar pausing mid-air. Gaz’s head tilted, and Soap’s grin slowly widened like he’d just uncovered buried treasure.

“‘The missus,’ is it?” Soap crowed, leaning forward, his voice full of mockery and delight. “Oh, Lt. When’d she go from bein’ your ‘girl’ to your ‘missus,’ eh? Got somethin’ to tell us?”

Ghost froze for half a second, his brain catching up to his words. He hadn’t even realized he’d said it. His grip on the mug tightened slightly, but his face- what little they could see- remained impassive.

“She’s always been the missus,” he replied at last, cooly, though the slight rumble in his voice betrayed him. “Just didn’t feel like sharin’ it with you lot.”

Soap cackled, nearly spilling his drink. “That’s it, lads. He’s done for. Proper whipped.”

Price smirked but didn’t comment, while Gaz tried- and failed- not to join in the laughter.

“You put a ring on her yet?” Gaz teased.

“… Not yet.”

The room quieted again, this time with the weight of realization. There was no bluster, no denial. Just a quiet certainty that made even Soap shut his mouth, his smile less teasing.

“Right,” Price said finally, taking a puff of his cigar. “Good for you, Simon.”

Ghost said nothing more, sipping his tea like the conversation was over. But as the others eventually moved on to other topics, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

The missus. He liked the way that sounded. It felt right.

Now, he had a new mission: find the right ring.

#noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost imagines

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periwinkla · 1 year ago

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AAI3 ideas compilation ❤ *minor spoilers for AAI games and SOJ* The idea was borne from the old "let's stow away in Mr. Edgeworth's suitcase" trick that was brought up in SOJ - made me imagine an AAI3 game where the assistant is Trucy 'cause Edgeworth the goof didn't notice his suitcase suddenly weighted like a whole 30 kilos of child more - Phoenix probably just comes by for the final case. While Phoenix gets on a plane in a panic, Edgeworth also panics because he needs to investigate murders but can't very well leave a 8 year old child by herself. Shenanigans ensue. Kay comes back. Kay and Trucy's shenanigans are Edgeworth's worst nightmare atm, and that's saying a lot. Kay probably figures out who 'that man' is, thanks to Trucy talking about her daddy. All in all Trucy and Edgeworth spending time together while Phoenix isn't there would explain why Trucy is so confortable with him on the plane in SOJ. Gosh I love that scene. When Phoenix finally reaches them Trucy and Edgeworth are so in tune that when Edgeworth figures stuff out, Trucy immediatelly knows and she's prepared to shout Eureka! with him. Phoenix is like...what. And that's how he discovers Edgeworth's Eureka idiosyncrasy. He's also floored by how cute it is. (I know it doesn't exist in the original Japanese but let's ignore that) Also, do you think that maybe the reason Edgeworth doesn't notice 30+ kilos of child is that perhaps he doesn't even lift his suitcase in the first place? And in that case the poor soul that has such a task is obviously Gumshoe. Gumshoe probably thinks it's totally normal for Edgeworth's suitcase to weigh like half his weight. Which, tbh, isn't that farfetched an idea. *also clothes are a bit inconsistent bc I drew them at different points in time ahahah ^^''

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #wrightworth #trucy wright #kay faraday #aai #aai3 #fanart #my art #periwinkla

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cogitrot · 2 years ago

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This little scenario with Mirkon and those harpies is very, very bugged lol.

The harpies kill the kid, and I mean obliterate them, and I get a notification that they've been ~*~saved~*~. Wyll gets inspiration, even. He's very proud of himself. This happened twice. I reload both times, because that's obviously not right. Decide I'm going to have Astarion knock them out right out the gate so they can't go get themselves attack-of-opportunity-ed for the thousandth time, and I triple-check that non-lethal damage is on. I send Astarion in.

Get a journal notification.

Kid's dead.

I'm looking at their 1HP right now.

Larian, istg, what do you want from me.

#baldur's gate 3 #I've never run into this scenario before so I'm not sure how to go about it but I feel like #the kid getting shredded by harpies is probably not the happy ending the journal wants me to think it is #what was it just so traumatic the whole group collectively decided to pretend that actually it all worked out okay?#larian c'mon #for that matter why is my half-orc cleric just meekly watching this small child toddle out into deep water?!#mirkon weighs like 5 pounds just pick them up!#not to mention starting the battle lured when my guy VERY CLEARLY beat his saving throw #I should at least get one turn of grace for that #I'm beating them out of spite now no matter HOW many times I must reload to beat the bugs

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astars-things · 1 month ago

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bubble wrap

Lando Norris x reader

warning- broken ankle

Lando was half-asleep on the couch when his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet apartment. He frowned at the screen, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Y/N’s mom’s name flashing across it. Calls this late were never good news.

“Hello?” He answered quickly, already sitting up straight.

“Lando, sweetheart,” her voice was gentle, but there was something cautious about it. “I don’t want you to panic, but we’re at the hospital with Y/N.”

His heart dropped. “The hospital? What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, just… well, you know how she is.” There was a small laugh, but Lando wasn’t amused. “She tripped over a curb outside the restaurant and broke her ankle.”

Lando sighed, rubbing his forehead. Of course she did. “I swear, we need to wrap her in bubble wrap. She cannot go one month without getting injured.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” her mom chuckled. “She’s a little embarrassed, but she’s okay. I thought you’d want to come.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

When he arrived at the hospital, Y/N was sitting in a wheelchair in the waiting room, her leg propped up with a bright pink cast. The second she saw him, she groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Before you say anything—”

“I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap,” he interrupted, crouching in front of her with a fond shake of his head. “This is, what, the third time this year?”

Her cheeks burned. “It’s only the second! And last time was just a sprain.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You fell up the stairs, Y/N.”

Her lips pressed into a pout. “It happens.”

He couldn’t help but smile. God, he loved her. Even when she was a walking disaster.

Y/N’s mom patted her shoulder, amused. “She’s all yours now, Lando. Good luck.”

Lando didn’t even give her a chance to argue when he scooped her up in his arms outside the hospital.

“I can use the crutches,” she insisted, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Not happening.” He held her easily, carrying her toward the car like she weighed nothing. “You’d probably trip again and break your other ankle.”

She gasped, lightly smacking his chest. “I am not that bad!”

He glanced down at her with an amused smile. “Really? Because last week, you tripped over absolutely nothing.”

She huffed, but he could see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if I’m stuck being carried everywhere, I hope you know that means you’re officially my personal servant.”

Lando chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I already am.”

By the time they got home, Lando had completely banned the use of crutches. Y/N tried to argue, but she didn’t exactly mind the way he carried her inside, holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” she mumbled against his shoulder as he carried her straight to the couch.

“Maybe,” he admitted, carefully setting her down and tucking a blanket around her. He adjusted the pillows beneath her injured leg, making sure she was comfortable before sitting beside her.

She watched him with soft eyes, heart swelling at the care in his every movement. “You’re too good to me.”

He smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just love you too much to risk you getting hurt again.”

Lando had planned to stream with Max that night, but he refused to leave Y/N alone. So instead of letting her stay on the couch, he brought a giant bean bag into his streaming room and set her up with blankets, snacks, and her phone.

“You know I can just stay in the living room, right?” she teased as he fluffed up the pillows behind her.

“Nope.” He grinned, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You stay where I can see you.”

“I feel like a child,” she giggled, watching him settle into his gaming chair.

“A very clumsy child,” he corrected, glancing at her with fond eyes.

Y/N just shook her head with a smile, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

Halfway through the stream, Max noticed her in the background.

“Mate, why is Y/N in a bean bag?” Max asked, laughing through the headset.

Lando smirked. “She broke her ankle last night.”

Max burst out laughing. “Of course she did! How?”

“Tripped over a curb.”

“Classic Y/N,” Max chuckled. “You really do need to wrap her in bubble wrap.”

“That’s the plan,” Lando said, shooting her a playful look.

Y/N glanced up from her phone. “I will throw my crutch at you.”

Max cackled. “I’d pay to see that.”

Lando just grinned, knowing full well she wasn’t really mad.

After the stream, he turned off his PC and glanced over at Y/N. She had dozed off, curled up in the bean bag with her head resting against a pillow. His heart softened at the sight.

Quietly, he crouched down beside her, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. She stirred slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes.

“Done streaming?” she mumbled.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Ready for bed?”

She nodded, but before she could even think about using the crutches, Lando had already lifted her into his arms again.

“You’re really never letting me use them, huh?” she murmured, resting her head against his chest.

“Nope.” He kissed her temple. “You’re stuck with me carrying you everywhere.”

She sighed, smiling against his shirt. “I guess I can live with that.”

And as he carried her to bed, holding her close like she was the most precious thing in the world, Lando decided he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mclaren #lando x reader

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emilys-bangs · 2 months ago

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take a seat | e.p

Tags: lap sitting (sometimes in inconvenient places), bau!reader, emily’s man-spreading, reader is insecure about their weight, multiple concerns about being too heavy, too many mentions of emily’s thighs, brief mention of nail picking, there’s a bar scene but it’s not mentioned whether or not reader drinks, a gross man as a plot device, getting together, personal space does not exist in this fic, the last part skips to uc emily (rated t? it’s a bit spicy idk), the usual use of petnames

Summary: Circumstances happen. Sometimes, the solution is to make yourself comfortable on your dizzyingly attractive coworker’s lap. She holds your hips, you hold your breath. Or, 5 times Emily’s lap makes for a good seat. Requested here.

Word count: 6.5k (woah!!) (this says nothing about me)

A/N: it’s not mentioned which seasons this takes place in but I imagined season six emily because…yeah…..yall already know. However the last part does skip to uc emily (and married reader and emily yey :3). Clearly I went wild with this fic lol. I hope you like it <3

You’re the last of your teammates out the door of the precinct.

Just as you were following Morgan to the car, you realized you’d forgotten your phone—which was lying on the bathroom counter, forgotten in your haste to finish up before everyone left—and circled back in for it. It took a bit to find, your head cloudy with exhaustion after four consecutive days of working on the case. You slide it into your pocket now and briskly cross the parking lot to the open door of the SUV, starting when you find Emily already seated at the edge. Reid sits beside her, trapped by Morgan on his other side.

You blink at the three agents already stuffed in the backseat. JJ took the other SUV to drive a shaken victim home, and most of the precinct’s officers have already retired for the night. Only a few other cars loiter in the lot, the lights in the building dimming fast, throwing the night in more shadows. You quickly do the math and cringe at the solution.

You’re a grown adult. You hardly weigh a feather. Reid would probably snap under your weight, Morgan’s slight smirk already hints at the teasing you’re in for if you sat on his lap, and Emily…

Sitting on Emily’s lap is the last thing you should be doing right now. Just the flick of your eyes towards her spread thighs makes you fluster, swallowing hard at the way her left knee encroaches onto Reid’s space and forces both of his neatly together in front of the center console. Heat gathers on your neck, intensifying with the force of everyone’s eyes on you.

“Reid should get up.” You blurt before anyone says anything.

“What? No—I’m already seated, why should I get up?” His voice goes high pitched, his bottom lip jutting out in a sulk.

“Because.” You press your lips together, waiting for someone to back you up. They don’t. Traitors. “You’re a stick figure, honey. I’m—”

“You can sit on my lap,” Emily offers.

Oh, hell no.

“What?”

“She won’t bite, cupcake.” Morgan drawls, grinning when Emily shoots him a glare. “But you’re plenty welcome to sit on my lap, if you’d prefer. I know Prentiss here can get a little intense.”

Her jaw ticks.

“Come on, Y/N.” Emily isn’t harsh, but she’s not exactly patient, either. “It’s just for a few minutes.” Her eyes flick up to Hotch in the driver’s seat. Yours do, too, but your boss says nothing about the probable—no, definite—laws you’ll be breaking by finding yourself a seat atop one of your coworker’s thighs. So you do it.

“Is nobody concerned about breaking the law here?” You ask, but the attempt is half hearted. Everyone’s exhausted, and the outside chill is starting to creep in through your thin shirt.

“It’s the middle of the night,” Rossi says easily. “And we just placed a serial murderer in custody. I think the sheriff will let us off the hook for an unlawful ride back to our motel—for some much needed rest, might I add.”

Hotch turns to look at you. “I could drop them off and come back for you.” He offers.

“What? No, that’s—it’s fine. Fine. Whatever,” you mutter, shaking your head. It’s fine. The motel is hardly 15 minutes away. You can survive that long, surely you can. Looking at Emily, you try not to let it show how nervous you are—if you do, she’d back off, steadfastly refuse to sit you on top of her, and probably get out herself and demand from Hotch that he come back for her later. Which is really more trouble than all this deserves.

Fine. You’ll sit on her stupid lap.

“Don’t blame me if your legs go numb.” You mumble as you climb into the car, feeling your voice tremble in the back of your throat.

“Give me a little credit,” Emily says dryly. Her hands settle on your waist, lightly steadying you as you close the door. It shuts with a loud thud, and you gingerly settle yourself on her thighs. Her knees, really. She’s closed them to give you more space—space you don’t use as you lean forward and hold on to the back of Rossi’s headrest. You all but hover above her lap, holding most of your weight up and leaning into the seat ahead of you.

It hardly takes a minute before your thighs start to tremble with the exertion. Emily’s hands leave your waist; they leave behind a strange mix of hot and cold under your clothes. The absence of their weight is infuriatingly disappointing.

Hotch glances at you in the rear view mirror. “All good back there?”

“All good, boss,” Emily replies.

He drives off. You grip the headrest tighter as the car lurches onto the road, the low speed knocking you off balance.

Shit.

Emily’s hands return to your waist. Her fingers dig into your sides, gripping firmly through your clothes. You swallow, hands going clammy even before she leans in, her chest just brushing your back.

“You can sit.” She says into your ear, the whisper of her voice so low it’s almost elusive. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine.”

Something tickles your neck. You think it could be her hair. “I’m not exactly light as a feather.” You mumble haltingly, the particles of her fading perfume swimming in your lungs.

“And I’m not Reid,” Emily shoots back a little too loud.

“What?” Reid asks meekly.

You both ignore him. When the car drives over a bump in the road, you teeter.

Emily’s hands grip you tighter. She exhales a low, frustrated breath; it skims the skin of your neck, teasing the fine hairs at your nape to stand on edge.

“Careful, Hotch,” she mutters, fingers flexing on your hips.

The car slows. Everything is starting to cramp—your fingers around the headrest, your thighs trembling with your own weight, the heels of your feet digging into the floor between Emily’s. Outside the window, the precinct is still in view.

This is ridiculous.

You inhale a quiet breath. You’ll move back when you let it go, you decide. Holding it for a beat—two, three—you let it inflate your chest before exhaling and slowly easing yourself back onto Emily’s thighs. Inching back as if she won’t notice, gingerly letting your weight drop on her lap the more you scoot further into her. Your back finds the rounded softness of her chest. The curve of her knees nestle under yours.

You bite your lip, bracing yourself for her to push you back up to her knees—or hell, even throw you at Reid—but all she does is tug you up further into her. She squeezes once, lightly, clearly satisfied. You relax a fraction as her hands leave your waist and loop around your hips instead, a makeshift seat belt to keep you against her chest.

“This okay?” She whispers, a hand pressing against your ribs. You’re not sure if you imagined the shake of her voice or not.

You nod silently.

Muscles tense, back ramrod straight, you try to breathe in slowly and hope that Emily’s fingertips don’t catch the edge of your racing heart. They dig in lightly, much looser than the firm arm anchoring your hips to hers. You can feel the heat pooling between your bodies—doubling, spreading, scorching.

You’re used to Emily touching you. But not like this. She squeezes your elbows, shoulders, gently nudges the small of your back and lets her fingers linger when she adjusts something for you—your vest, hair, swiping invisible lint off of your clothes. You like those touches, you seek after them and glow warmly from the inside when you earn them oh so easily. But this? Oh, this could just kill you.

“Relax.” She says quietly. You fight hard against the urge to squirm at the warm fog of her breath on your neck, a small squeeze to your waist going unnoticed. “We’re almost there.” The rumble of her voice vibrates through her chest and into yours.

The car tilts. Or maybe it drives over a pothole.

Either way, you’re dizzy.

Blood rushes hot under your skin. You bite your tongue, refraining from snapping at Hotch to hurry the fuck up when a deep inhale from Emily jostles your chest as well.

It’s a small miracle that you get out of the car without stumbling, knees weak and legs boneless. The cold air slaps your cheeks and gives you reprieve from the heat burning them. You don’t get a good look at Emily until you’re in the elevator, trapped between her and the wall; the moment your eyes fall on her, her gaze snaps up.

The corner of her mouth curls imperceptibly. She wets her bottom lip, dragging it into her mouth with a shine of teeth, the shadow of a dimple flashing, there and gone in an instant.

Her cheeks are pink.

Oh, heaven help you.

Your whole body feels like it’s been rammed by a truck. Your feet throb in your shoes, your shoulders ache, and your lower back is finally getting back at you for the way you’d outrageously slouched for the large majority of the three hour car ride. Two agents, a few hundred miles—hardly worth a whole jet for their comfort, right? Sometimes you think the BAU has you spoiled.

But then again, here you are, in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, leaning against the front desk of a dilapidated motel lobby because for some reason—in spite of the laughably low demand—yours and Emily’s rooms still aren’t ready yet. The scrawny guy at the front desk had looked at you confusedly, scratching his chin and mumbling, that’s tonight? much to your dismay. You hadn’t been hoping for a five star service, but the least you can ask for is a ready room by the end of the night.

He’d scampered off—presumably to get the rooms ready, but it’s been ten minutes and he’s not back yet which leads you to think he’s maybe avoiding the disgruntled glare you’re throwing at the wall. It’s not like you can help it at this point. Your hip aches where you lean it against the vacant desk, and every so often you enviously eye the lone chair that Emily occupies in the narrow stretch of space so generously called a lobby.

And that’s a whole other thing, because you’re trying hard not to stare.

Emily’s bag rests in the wide open space between her spread legs. Her hands are on her thighs, fiddling with the creases in her slacks like she always does, idle, her head lazily tipped back against the wall but her eyes still razor sharp.

You wish she would just close her damn legs. Every time your eyes fall on them, unabashedly staring at the flex of her thighs when she restlessly shakes them out, you’re reminded again of the car. The overwhelming heat of her body, the strength of her hands on your hips—protective.

It does nothing to help your massive, debilitating crush on her. Not when you now fluster every time you see her sit on a damn chair, gaze wandering to her thighs and the way they held you up, the smooth scent of her perfume settling down in your gut with each inhale. Talking to her is even worse. Somehow, the line has blurred more. You have no idea where you stand, what you are, or how you’re expected to behave. You’ve always been an overthinker, but this is bursting your head.

Safe to say, work has been hard lately. Especially with Emily’s amplified flirting. At least, that’s what you think it is. You can’t figure her out sometimes (most of the time) when her lips stretch into a smooth curve, eyes going sparkly with playfulness and words dripping charm you can’t tell is manufactured just for you or is mass distributed to everyone in bulk.

You snap out of your head when Emily lifts her head, arms crossing over her chest. Drawn to the movement, your eyes meet hers.

“You’re sulking.” She notices.

Her calm tone grates on you. “I’m tired.” You snap. “I’ve been on my feet for half the day.” And you’re hogging the only seat. But you’re mindful enough to hold your tongue on that one. She’s hardly the reason you’re in this mess.

But she is making it harder to deal with—in several aspects.

“I’m pretty comfortable if you want to sit on me.”

You blink at her, irritation wavering.

Her eyes go the slightest bit wide. Lashes blending into bangs, a deer in headlights look there and gone in a flash. The inside of her cheek moves with what you think could be a bite as her mouth opens, brows delicately drawing together. “I mean…” She begins then trails off, her usual silver tongue failing her.

You feel your mood lighten. Emily’s cheeks tint a faint red and you press your lips against a smile, trying to ignore your body’s reaction to her words. Because you know damn well how comfortable she is.

“How forward of you. Or you could get up,” you suggest, halfway torn between laughing and bursting into a ball of flame.

Where’s the stupid reception guy?

Emily’s chivalry fails her. “I’m not getting up, I’m tired, too.” She protests, bringing her knees together. Your eyes drop to them. “I’ve been in heels all day.”

Your lips purse in displeasure.

It only takes a few quiet beats before Emily sighs, bending down to reach for her bag. “Okay, fine.”

Your eyes widen when you see what she’s doing. Immediately, you back down.

“Hey, no, don’t. It’s okay, I was just complaining—”

She gives you a docile smile. “I don’t mind, babe. I’ve been sitting for a while—”

“Emily, don’t you dare get up—”

She ignores you. Before she fully stands, you walk over to the chair and sit down, forcing her thighs back on the seat.

Emily lets out a quiet huff; the flimsy chair almost knocks backward from your sudden assault, teetering on its back legs. She steadies it and grips your hip, long lashes fluttering up at you as her thumb digs in under the hem of your blazer.

Oh, god, what have you done?

The corners of her lips twitch, messing with the pattern of your already unsteady pulse. “See?” She says, her voice strangely high pitched, “Now we’re both sitting.”

Your arm is just shy of her chest. When Emily inhales a little too deep, the buttons of her shirt press against your bicep—a short kiss, then gone.

You’re still numb with your own stupidity. Only your eyes do any good, scanning her face and watching as the blush deepens on her cheeks, fair skin blooming red in real time with the fast pace of your heart.

You move to slide off her lap. Emily holds you in place. “What, am I that bad of a seat?” She murmurs, her arm lightly circling both your thighs. If you weren’t so focused on trying to control the heat in your face, you would have lingered on the strange tremble of her voice.

You ignore how heavenly it feels to sit down. You also ignore the way the tips of her fingers rest on the crest of your ass.

“I’m making you uncomfortable.” You say, horrified and unsurprised to find your voice choked.

Emily shakes her head, mussed bangs slipping from their place. “You’re not, promise. Besides, it’s—uh, it’s not our first rodeo.” Her brows raise, a small arch.

You flick your eyes away, overwhelmed by the small distance between your faces.

Her hands loosen their grip. “But if it’s—if you’re uncomfortable, I mean—”

“I’m not.” You say quickly.

“Okay.”

Her hands disappear from your body. You try not to make it obvious you’re staring—or disappointed—as she hooks one arm over the back of the chair, her nail notching on the tattered skin of her thumb. She peels away at her cuticle, repetitively picking at the skin as she watches the open doorway of the lobby. Her nail digs in, twists, and draws blood.

“Stop.” You take her hand unthinkingly, wincing at the sight of her nails. Emily’s eyes are hot on your face. “Doesn’t that hurt?” You ask, your thumbs gently holding either side of her wrist.

“It’s an easy pain.” Her voice is breathless. “Manageable, I guess,” she shrugs, her eyes darting away.

You frown. Her cuticles really are a gnarly sight—uneven skin and jagged nails and blood on her thumb.

Emily’s hand twitches in your loose grip. You look up, she looks away again, swallowing as her eyes return to the door. A visible pulse beats in her throat; the line of her jaw is sharp.

Her leg starts jolting. You jolt with it.

“Emily—”

“Uhh, your guys’ room is ready.” The receptionist says as he walks into the lobby. He briefly stares at the largely inappropriate sight in front of him. You stand quickly, fixing your clothes.

“Room?” You echo.

“We only have one available.” He says bluntly.

Your eyes meet Emily’s. Any retort you expect from her dissolves into silence, the both of you staring at each other with similarly wide eyes, hot cheeks.

Well, shit.

When you see the guy from the corner of your eye, you tense. He’s almost concealed in the shadows frothing at the corner of the bar’s walls, waiting just beyond the bathroom you came out of. You quietly curse and dodge through a group of giggly women in hopes of losing him.

He’d been practically glued to you at the bar, sidling up to your side with lecherous eyes and overwhelming cologne, both of which left a sour taste on your tongue as you ignored him from behind your shoulder and placed the team’s orders. When JJ came over to help you with the drinks, he stayed behind, but the heat of his eyes followed you all the way back to the table, lifting the hairs on the back of your neck. You saw him while dancing—lurking at the edge of the floor, inching closer until you hid behind the broad line of Morgan’s shoulder. Now he’s materialized on your way to the bathroom, and still he’s on your tail. You could deal with him, you know that—and your friends would be more than happy to—but it’s not worth causing a scene over.

At the table it’s just Reid and Emily. Hotch and Rossi are both long gone, and everyone else is busy dancing as Reid rambles over a bowl of forgotten chips, mouth moving rapidly, hands gesturing wildly in excitement. Emily nods along and pops nuts in her mouth with smooth flicks of her wrist. Her hair is fluffed from her earlier dancing, skin gleaming under the lights. You see her, knees spread, arm hooked over the back of the booth, and it sparks your brain.

“Emily!” You gush, slipping into the area between the table and her body and promptly dropping into her lap, both your legs slotting in the ample space between hers.

She stiffens, her body going tense when your ass perches on her thigh. You briefly hate yourself as you press yourself into her chest, draping an arm around her shoulder and pressing the flat of your wrist to the warm, smooth curve of the nape of her neck. “Behind me,” you breathe into her ear, the dark strands of her hair rustling to skim along her exposed collarbone.

Emily instantly relaxes. Her arm slides around your waist, heavy and strong, fingertips idly skimming along your side as if she’s been doing it for years.

“Sweetheart, what took so long?” She murmurs sweetly, the warm drawl of her voice turning your knees to mush. Her eyes meet yours and you go almost nauseous with want, dizzy at the way the bar lights outline her irises and make them gleam, dizzy at the honey-thick pet name that burns in your blood. You draw a sharp breath, stomach clenching; it trips in your lungs when her slender fingers graze your jaw, teasingly getting a feel for the hard bone nestled under your skin. “You had me worried, I was about to come looking for you.”

You can barely think. You know you’re too heavy, all your weight on one of her thighs, probably numbing it beyond belief, but you’re fixated on the way she touches you still. The searing heat of her gaze is enough of a touch all on its own. Having her look up at you, lashes so glossy they look wet, is a strange high you can’t get over.

“B-Bathrooms were full.” You stammer. You’re sure your pulse beats through your wrist and right into the back of her neck. It’s too much, all of it—her warm hands, the solid muscle of her thigh flexing as she brings it, you, in closer. Turning your head, you accidentally meet the guy’s gaze, his looming form jolting you back into reality.

You tense on Emily’s lap.

She feels it. Her hand leaves your jaw to grab your thigh, securing you further into her chest. The inherent protectiveness of it makes you flutter.

“Can we help you?” Her voice sharpens as she turns too, her eyes narrowing. It’s a tone you recognize—the unforgiving edge she serves to unsubs in interrogation rooms, cold and stripped of mercy.

You almost shiver. The guy certainly does, though he tries to hide it with a stony glare.

“I’m alright,” he snipes, dragging his now disgusted gaze up and down your body. Emily’s hands tense, flexing on your hip and thigh until he finally turns with a shake of his head, sulking away to the bar.

You straighten the moment he does, inching away from Emily’s chest. “I’m so sorry,” you say breathlessly, clambering to get off of her lap. “God, Emily, I don’t know what came over me—”

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice tender but her lips pressing together into a thin line. The edge of her jaw hardens. “How long has he been bothering you for?”

You grimace as you settle on the booth next to her, eyes flicking up to Reid. You’d forgotten he was there, honestly—he’d been observing in silence, and other than his concerned look he doesn’t give any other reaction.

“A bit,” you say, not really wanting to elaborate. Emily’s eyes look far too murderous right now, and, really, this was supposed to be a fun night out. The enjoyment has fizzled out like flat soda, and though you throw Emily a smile, your heart’s not in it anymore. Your head is too cloudy, stomach tangled and twisted in knots—half nervous, half lovesick. A small tremor rocks your hands. “He was just being bothersome. Really, it’s okay, Em.” Before you can think you’re leaning over, your lips finding her cheek in a quick kiss.

You’re close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath.

When you lean back you find that her pupils are blown, her lips slightly parted. A fleeting rush of confidence brightens your smile. “Thanks for saving me.” You murmur.

Her tongue darts across her bottom lip. “Yeah,” she says. Her voice is gritty, the smoky remnants of a bonfire. Emily clears her throat, “Yeah, anytime.”

You seem to have shocked her out of any reprimand. But you haven’t distracted her enough to stop her from splitting a cab with you and dropping you off, though your apartments are on opposite ends of the city.

Fully composed, she drops a similar kiss on your cheek. Your keys almost tumble to the floor.

It’s a strange sort of exhilarating to be allowed to brush your lips over the raven strands at Emily’s hairline. Her skin is warm, and after months of teasing, months of relentless tension, stolen glances and sly touches, here you are, red string finally pooled loose on the floor between you.

It’s a rare weeknight. Takeout has been ordered, movie switched on, and you get to experiment with things like these. Finally.

Her hair smells like coconut. You sift your fingers through it when you straighten, smiling as Emily’s arms gently hug your waist, her forehead rubbing against your torso.

“What was that for?” She asks as she tilts her chin up, the lilt of her voice curving to match her smile.

You really have no clue.

“Just because I can.” You shrug one shoulder. “I can, can’t I?”

Her eyes trap you from beneath coal-dark lashes. “Honey, you can try to set me on fire and I’ll let you.” She drawls, warm and flirty. You’re briefly caught off guard, too distracted by the velvet-smooth cadence of her voice to notice her hands skimming until they find your hips. Fingers curling down around the backs of your thighs, she tugs gently, forcing you in until your legs hit the couch.

“That seems irresponsible.” You stammer a little, flustering under her stare. She does it so openly, eyes unabashedly burning holes into your skin and flaying you open.

You somewhat thought that confessing to her would make it easier on your heart. You now know you were dead wrong.

Emily tugs more. You all but stumble into her, bracing a hand on her shoulder to keep yourself steady. It’s not hard to know what she wants, but you play dumb anyway, a roiling pit settling in your gut.

“Emily,” you say nervously, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She indulgently squeezes the soft of your thighs. “Sit.”

“I’m good,” you blurt, tensing against her hands. “I don’t wanna bother you, plus there’s plenty of room over here”—you gesture to the couch—“your couch’s awfully comfy, I don’t know if you know—”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me,” Emily interrupts softly. “Not at all. Is something wrong?” She asks after a beat, when you’ve let the silence stretch. You chew on the inside of your cheek and shake your head, trying not to squirm away from the intensity of her gaze.

Her hands loosen on your thighs. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” She says seriously, all previous mirth gone. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I expect stuff like that from you.”

“I know,” you say, your skin itching. You fiddle with the hair that cascades down her shoulder, for some reason stuck here in front of her though she’s not holding you still. The truth is, you know how good it feels to be that close to her. To feel the strength of her beneath you, the warmth that glows in the gaps between your body and hers. There’s a certain…safety in the space between her arms. You can only imagine how it would feel when you’re both openly allowed to be affectionate with each other, all previous barriers crumbled and broken down at your feet.

Emily takes your hand and brings it to her lips. Her kiss is just a gentle press, the slightest pressure on your knuckles. “Okay,” she says softly, smiling as she pats a spot on the couch next to her. “C’mon, I want to start the movie.”

You love her for letting it go. It’s a comforting warmth under your skin, and it’s just enough for you to ignore the anxious churning in your stomach.

“I want to.” You say, voice hushed as you place the backs of your fingers along her jaw, dispelling nervous energy. “I want to be close with you like that, and it’s not…it’s not that it makes me uncomfortable—I mean, we’ve tried it before.” Your lips twist into an ironic smile.

“Then?” Emily nudges, her hands gently roving over the sides of your legs. The whisper of her too-soft tone is almost too much.

You puff out a small laugh, chest aching. “Come on, Em. I’m not exactly the lightest person in the world.”

Her expression doesn’t shift. “So?”

“What do you mean, so?”

“So, what does that have to do with anything? I’m not the lightest person in the world, either.” Her shoulders raise in a shrug, brows furrowed like you’re not making sense.

You can’t believe she’s making you spell it out. It certainly wasn’t something your previous partners were ever hesitant about, never mind the teasing tones they used in a futile attempt to soften the blow. Baby, my leg’s gone numb—with a squeeze of your waist, a condescending had any dessert today? masked by a smile, the way it pulls enough of a reason for you to clamber off with a bad taste in your mouth.

But stupid, kind Emily.

“I’m too heavy.” You say flatly.

“Not to me.” She shoots back, her palms hot on your thighs. “I can take it.”

Heat flares at her words. You gape, mouth dry, “Jesus—”

“I can.” Her voice drags into a half whine. Emily’s eyes flash, her nails digging into the fabric of your jeans. “Come on, give me a little credit here. You’ve sat on my lap before—”

“Because I had to.”

“And did I drop you? Did I complain? Honey—” She shakes her head, the drag of her tongue across her lip briefly distracting you. “Let’s get one thing clear here. You want to and I want to, right?”

You nod.

“Then all you have to do is worry about being comfortable. That’s it. I want you here.” She says clearly, enunciating every word. “You’re not too heavy, and you definitely won’t be bothering me.” Her eyes go soft, her fingers rubbing over your pulse where she’s still got your wrist clutched in her grip. “I got you. I promise.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You really don’t mind?”

“Please.” She breathes, as if she might die if you don’t.

Your face must give, because her hands are gently nudging again. This time you don’t fight the pull, letting her help guide your knee up to the edge of the couch, then further. Emily’s other arm circles your waist and tugs down to get your hips to meet hers. You hesitate, hovering above her.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs. Her smile is gentle, reassuring. You return it nervously as you settle in the rest of the way, her hands never leaving your body even after you sit with a quiet breath. It’s awkward at first; you shift to get comfortable, moving your limbs this way and that, but Emily waits patiently until you do. You finally find the right spot, your knees settling on the sides of her hips, snugly hugging her narrow waist. Your heart pounds in your ears, just about drowning out the sound of her low, almost inaudible sigh.

“Hi, gorgeous.” She beams, all but throwing the light of the sun in your eyes.

“Hi.” You lean into her hand when she cups your cheek. Her other draws patterns on your hip. “I didn’t know you wanted me to sit on your lap that badly.”

“Are you kidding?” Emily places a small, singular kiss on your closed mouth. “The thought hasn’t left my mind since you first sat on me in the car. It was so hard to keep my hands to myself.” Her voice has gone smoky, low and rumbling through your chest.

She didn’t, really. You would’ve said just that, but you don’t think you can say anything. She’s overwhelming you—totally, completely. The hand on your hip moves gently, traveling and squeezing; her fingers trace up from your jaw to your cheekbone, sometimes reaching the corner of your eye before returning to carve the same path. And just—her. The scent of her perfume and the curves of her dimples and the exposed triangle of her throat all thanks to her form-fitting shirt. Her touch, the relaxed slopes of her posture. The way she smiles and leans in to nuzzle her nose into yours.

It’s not possible for her eyes to soften further, you think, but you’re proven wrong. “You’re thinking too much,” she whispers. “Don’t think.”

Her lips seal over yours, warm and sweetened with her saccharine words. She traces the seam of your mouth with her tongue, slips her hand under your shirt and palms the warm skin of your waist, aiming to distract. You hardly last before melting into her, muscles gone liquid. When she kisses you like that, you couldn’t form a thought if you tried.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Emily only looks slightly guilty. She’s warm with the glow of the desk lamp washing over her, pen held between long fingers, hand stilling over yet another report. You blow out a huff as you cross the floor of her home office, trying to hold on to it and not let your lips twitch into a smile when she rolls her chair back automatically, leaving ample room for you to slot in between the desk and make yourself comfortable on her lap. Because really, there’s nothing funny about this. It’s nearing midnight. You’re sure she hasn’t left that chair in more than a few hours.

“You should be in bed.” Emily murmurs. Her hand settles warmly on your waist, her thumb tracing the slopes under your pajama shirt.

“You should be in bed.” You return none too gently.

“I will be,” she promises, dropping a kiss on your mouth, “in a minute.”

You level her a look, knowing full well she’s lying. She’s trying to soften you up with kisses and touches, but this has happened enough times that you’re (mostly) unaffected. Emily sees the unyielding line of your lips, and she places another kiss there.

“I just want to finish this last one. It won’t take long.”

“It won’t,” you agree. “But then there’ll be the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that”—you ignore her sigh—“and that will sure as fuck take long.”

You hate how work-oriented she’s been. Emily loves her job—and you do, too, you get it—but this is more than loving. It’s obsession, perfectionism, working herself to the bone. She used to be the first one out of the office. Now she’s the one declining team drinks because she’s busy with her paperwork, the high pedestal of her looming office distancing her from everyone.

From you.

You miss your wife. You’re with her almost every day, your steps in time with hers, but it hasn’t been the same lately. The skin under her eyes is constantly dark with exhaustion, calluses hardening on the sides of her fingers from hours of continuously holding her pen, and she’s been trying to hide the strain in her neck but you feel the knots every time you cup the back of it, trying to coax her away from uncomfortable chairs and bloody files.

You shift on her lap, knees spreading to slot her waist between them. It’s become a natural move, smoothened with time. Now you bring your chest almost flush with hers, your pelvis to her hips, hands spread over her ribs—just to feel her here with you.

“You’ve been neglecting me.”

It seems a petty, selfish thing to say, but it hits home. The fight immediately leaks out of her, the skin between her brows creasing, her eyes going soft with regret.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I know I have, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

She fidgets with the pen in her right hand. Hasn’t even dropped it, you notice, relying on her left and shifts of her hips to bring you in close. You fight the urge to pull it from between her fingers and instead rub wide arcs over her torso, thumb skimming over the softly fluctuating movement of her chest. The buttons running down the center of her shirt are cool under your skin. You toy with them.

“You don’t know when to stop.”

Nimbly, you flick open the buttons of her Henley, starting from the bottom. One after the other, as Emily’s breathing quickens and fills the silence her words had failed to. The sides of the shirt wilt open; her skin shines gold under the lampshade. You dip your head to kiss it, honey-colored and just as sweet.

“When was the last time you went to bed with me, hm?” You murmur, involuntarily smiling when her thighs flex under yours. “Just went to bed with me, and we fell asleep together. Can you remember?” Your hand roams, finding the hem of her sweatpants and slipping past. Emily’s chest rises sharply under your lips.

“Honey.” She grips your waist—her right hand still notably absent. “I really need to—”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Your teeth dig into her flesh. Emily hisses lowly, muttering a curse as you soothe the sting with your tongue. “’M’sorry,” she says breathlessly; you look up to find her pupils blown, bottom lip blooming a fresh red like she’d bitten on it. “I know I’ve been caught up with work, I’ll do better, promise.”

You skim your fingers over her hip bone. Emily jolts beneath you, her thighs tensing again. Her hand is hot on your cheek as she brings you in, kisses you with more attention than you remember getting from her in weeks. You can feel the desperation behind it—an apology—as your hand wanders deeper between her thighs.

“I’ll do better, amor,” she mumbles against your mouth, frayed and trembling.

It never gets old how she reacts to your touch. Nothing gets to her like the feeling of skin on skin—kisses, squeezes, tight hugs and idle fingers everywhere. It’s how she communicates, how she wants to be communicated with, craving the weight of your touch and the whisper of your skin. There’s solace in the scarce bit of space between your bodies.

You hum against her mouth, fingers nudging past damp fabric. They wade through searing, wet heat, and immediately get soaked to the knuckle. Emily’s hips buck into your hand, a choked gasp on her lips.

“You don’t know when to stop,” you murmur, wrist already cramping at the angle. With your free hand, you skim idly over her jaw, feeling her stuttering pulse under your finger. “I can do that for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a lot on your plate, I know, so let me help, hm? Even Unit Chiefs need a little support.” Your fingers sink home, and Emily’s lashes flutter. “Yeah?” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah,” Emily gasps. The skin at the base of her throat gleams. You curl your fingers and she breathes your name; you tilt on her lap, rising with the rock of her hips, but her grip on you is bone-crushingly tight.

“Been so long, hasn’t it, Em?” You’re thrumming now, blood hot under your skin, your pajama pants sticking to your thighs from her overwhelming body heat. A tilt of your wrist, a slow circle with your thumb, and her jaw clenches.

The sight of it sends sparks crackling down your spine. It’s like you’re drunk on her.

“It’s okay.” You kiss her chin, catching the edge of her lips. “I won’t let it happen again. And neither will you, right?”

Emily whines quietly, both her hands digging sharply into your hips. You smile, the gesture gone unnoticed beneath her closed eyes.

Paperwork is the last thing on her mind.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights@professorsapphic

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #divider by saradika

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mattrempeswife · 12 days ago

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EVEN WHEN YOU THINK I’M SLEEPING

requested: yes | req: whispering gentle reassurances to lukey after he has a bad day while you think he’s sleeping but he’s awake and all he can think of is how incredibly lucky he is, you don’t even realise he’s awake till a tear slips out the corner of his eye.

pair: luke hughes x f!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, slice of life, established relationship.

warnings: emotional vulnerability, one curse word, reader comfort and caretaking, soft crying, mention of sports-related stress.

summary: after a long, rough day on the ice and the weight of expectations heavy on his shoulders, luke comes home feeling like he’s failing his team, his family, and himself. but in the quiet of the night, your soft whispers and gentle reassurances wrap around him like the warmest hug, even when you think he’s asleep.

The door clicks shut with that defeated sound, you pause the show you weren’t really watching, setting the remote down. The apartment is dim except for the soft kitchen light you left on for him. Always. Just in case he needed the feeling of home when he walked through the door.

Luke doesn’t say anything. Just drops his bag by the front door and shrugs out of his jacket like it weighs twice what it should.

No greetings.

No kiss hello. That’s when you know it’s bad.

You let him go. He walks straight to the bedroom and disappears behind the door.

You sit still for a minute, then slowly rise from the couch. You give him time, Luke needs that sometimes. Space to be quiet. He’s not one to explode or rant. He just folds inward, like a paper crane tucked too tightly.

After a few minutes, you follow him.

When you enter the bedroom, he’s lying on his side, hoodie still on, the blankets only half-heartedly pulled up over him. One arm is bent under his pillow, the other resting across his chest, hand curled like it forgot what it was reaching for.

You climb into bed gently, careful not to shift the mattress too much. Facing him, you tuck your arm under the pillow and let your fingers brush the back of his hand.

He doesn’t flinch. But he doesn’t move either.

You whisper into the space between you.

“Rough day?”

No answer. You don’t really expect one.

You scoot a little closer, closing the gap until your knees are touching. Still, nothing. His breathing is slow, even. But it’s not sleep. You know the difference.

You let the silence stretch a little longer before you start again, softer this time.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

His chest rises, then falls. Controlled.

You keep going, voice barely above a breath.

“I know it probably felt like everything was on you tonight. And maybe it didn’t go how you wanted. But that doesn’t mean you’re not still everything good.”

You shift your hand up to his forearm, your thumb tracing soft patterns over the fabric of his hoodie.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Luke. The way your teammates see you. Your family. You’re not just this game, or this moment, or the mistakes you think you made.”

Still no movement.

But the air around him has changed, more fragile, like glass held at the wrong angle.

You lean closer, whispering into the space behind his ear.

“You’re the same guy who cuts strawberries into heart shapes for my breakfast. Who sends me memes in the middle of practice just to make me laugh. The one who puts his hand on my lower back everytime we cross the street, like you’re afraid the world might take me away from you if you don’t.”

You smile to yourself, lips brushing his temple as you continue.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel like home isn’t a place, it’s you. Just you.”

You feel a tremble. The smallest shudder in his body.

And then, quietly, a soft sniff. And the tear that slips down the side of his face, pooling against the edge of the pillow.

You freeze. Your fingers tighten on his arm.

“Luke?”

A beat. Then he shifts slowly turning toward you, the tear shining like silver under the dim light.

“I wasn’t asleep,” he says, voice raw.

You lift your hand to wipe the tear away, thumb gentle.

“I know.”

His eyes flicker over your face, taking you in like he hasn’t seen you in days. Like he’s remembering something essential.

“I tried so hard today,” he whispers.

“And it just wasn’t enough.”

Your heart cracks. You slide your hand to his cheek, cradling him.

“You were enough the second you walked through that door.”

His throat bobs as he swallows.

“You make it too easy to fall apart.”

You laugh softly, tucking your forehead against his.

“Maybe falling apart isn’t the problem. Maybe the trick is finding someone who’ll help you gather the pieces.”

He exhales shakily, eyes closing for a second as your hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair.

“Don’t ever leave me,”

He says suddenly, like it spills out before he can catch it.

You freeze, then whisper fiercely,

“Never. I’m not going anywhere, Luke.”

“I think I’d lose my mind if I didn’t have you to come home to.”

“Good,”

You tease softly, brushing your nose against his.

“Then it’s mutual.”

He finally laughs, just barely a broken little sound that still feels like a sunrise. Then, slowly, he presses his lips to yours.

It’s not urgent. Not hungry.

It’s slow and soft and sure. A kiss that says thank you. A kiss that says I’m here. A kiss that says I hear every word you whisper when you think I’m sleeping.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lucky,” he murmurs.

You smile, brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“Then I’ll have to remind you more often.”

Luke moves again, pulling you into his chest this time. You settle there, cheek pressed to his sternum, listening to the thud of his heart as it starts to calm.

His voice rumbles above you.

“You’d make a really great captain.”

You blink up at him.

“What?”

“Just… you know what to say. And when to say it. You lead with your heart.”

Your lips part in surprise.

“That’s… really sweet.”

He shrugs, looking sheepish now.

“It’s true. I think you’d be the kind of captain that makes everyone feel like they belong.”

You blink back the emotion suddenly blooming in your chest.

“Well, if I’m the captain… you’re my favorite line mate.”

He grins. The first real smile you’ve seen from him all day.

You burrow into him, wrapping your arms around his waist, and he holds you like he’s memorizing the feel of your entire body in his arms. Like the ache in his chest has finally, finally started to ease.

After a while, just as you’re about to drift off, he speaks again.

“I was serious, you know. About marrying you.”

You hum sleepily.

“I know.”

“Not just someday. Soon.”

You peek up at him, heart thudding.

“You’re not allowed to propose while we’re both half-asleep.”

He chuckles, then presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Fine. But just know… I’m already planning it.”

And when he finally falls asleep this time with his breathing even, his body relaxed, and his hand tightly gripping yours, you stay awake just a little longer.

Watching him. Listening to the soft exhale from his lips. Pressing tiny kisses to his knuckles.

Because he may think he’s the lucky one.

But the truth is… you’re both just exactly where you’re meant to be.

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes angst #luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes nhl #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes x f!reader #luke hughes x fem!reader #luke hughes one-shot #nhl imagines

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anticanonsposts · 1 year ago

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sex drought :(

nsfw-mdni, but also fluff

One time you go through a sex drought because he accidentally hurt you during sex

everything was going fine...

you guys were having sex in missionary and it was feeling amazing

but then...

he reached his right arm up and tried to grab your right wrist

(he was gonna bring your hand down so you could feel where your bodies were connected)

however you tried to reposition and prop yourself up on your elbows at the same time

and his knuckles collided with the side of your temple

his eyes shoot to you to see if you're ok and you verbally assure him you are

however seconds later you start crying while still telling him you are fine

i do not mean this lightly when i say this man freaks the fuck out

he immediately pulls away from you (and out of you) positioning you so you are in more of a sitting up position

he gently cradles your head and kisses whee he bumped into you

this is followed by man 'bitte bitte' 'i'm so sorry, please forgive me schatz'

you repeatedly say that its ok but he just shakes his head

for the next couple weeks anytime you mention needing to get up and grab something or do something he is already up at the speed of light, grabbing it for you

god forbid there is a small red mark on your face that sticks around for a couple days and guy's heart WRENCHES every time he notices it

even after a lot of reassurance that you were fine and you understood it was an accident he would not touch you sexually for so long (probably like a week and a half)

during this time no matter how much you teased, begged, pleaded with him he would not fuck you....ok jk

after weighing the pros and cons he would resort to just giving you head but would not allow you to do anything for him afterward

(he would usually just go rub one out in the bathroom afterwards)

when you finally do have sex again, the first few times he treats you like you are quite literally made of glass

and insists that you be the one in charge, calling the shots, feels a lot of relief when you are on top of him because he sees it as less risky

he just feels so bad that he hurt his perfect fucking angel and will probably always remember this

he always just wants to make you feel so safe with him and doesn't want anything to threaten that

(I have an increasingly unhealthy attachment to this man)

#könig smut #könig #könig x reader #könig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty modern warfare #cod smut #cod mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig blurb #könig imagine #könig x you #konig blurb #konig imagine

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jjjjisun · 5 days ago

Text

Kitchen Accident

Wonyoung X Male OC | 9968 words

TW: Incest

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Jae was again awake in the middle of the night; it was becoming common. He would wake up and find it impossible to get back to sleep without at least getting himself a drink of water. The hard-on he awoke with also suggested he might need to relieve himself in their master bathroom before he rejoined his wife in bed.

He quietly rolled off the bed and threw on his robe. The forty-three year old didn't bother to close it because, frankly, nobody would be awake and it was his damn house - he could walk around naked if he pleased. It was a bit of a funny sight, Jae thought, looking down at his erection as it stood proudly between the flaps of the white robe. He knew he had little to worry about in the size department. His wife certainly didn't complain, not that she'd slept with him in over a month.

That was probably what had him waking up almost every night. His wife always seemed to find an excuse not to have sex, and Jae was tiring of being rejected. Until he figured out what was wrong, a quick jerk would have to do, and he'd be able to fall back asleep, somewhat satisfied. He tried not to allow the thought that someone in his wife's tennis club was taking his spot in bed, but it wouldn't have surprised him all that much.

Jae closed the door behind him silently and sidled out into the hall. Everybody else would be fast asleep. His daughter Da-ah was in her junior year of college; her door was closed and 300 miles away until the summer. Jinwoo, his twenty-three-year-old son, stayed home for a while as he saved money to move out on his own. The boy slept like a rock and could be heard snoring through his half-open door.

The room before the stairs was Wonyoung's, his youngest daughter, and the bright spot in his life. Jae's dark-haired teenager took after her mother, thankfully only in her looks. She also played tennis in high school and competed at a pretty high level. Jae loved Wonyoung with all his heart and spoiled her every chance. On her eighteenth birthday a few weeks ago, he'd bought her a costly tennis racket and made her swear not to tell her mother. Wonyoung readily agreed, holding the racquet against her chest and squeezing it tight as promised.

At an age when most of her friends complained about their fathers, how strict they were, or the intolerable grounding they had to endure, Wonyoung felt completely contrary. Every minute she could, she spent with her dad. She tried to take an interest in the things he liked: cars, electronics, and such. And he did such a fantastic job being a part of her interests that many of her friends were jealous that her dad spent so much time with her.

But Jae worried about Wonyoung sometimes. His daughter was getting prettier and prettier every day, and she didn't seem to understand how that changed how men and boys looked at her. Her older sister Da-ah certainly didn't set a great example, and now some of the outfits that Da-ah brought home from college were also starting to show up in Wonyoung's repertoire.

His teenage daughter was 5'8" with black hair and big brown eyes. Tennis had slimmed her body, and her affinity for lying out in the backyard had tanned her skin wonderfully, despite his protests for her to take it easy. From all the times he'd carried her to bed at night, he knew she weighed less than 100 lbs. When he started to worry about her was a few years ago when her breasts developed. Now she was sporting a C-cup, even larger than her mother's and impossible not to notice. Since she'd begun imitating her older sister, the tight cotton tank tops and V-necks constantly reminded him that he should keep his eye on her.

Not that he minded... as Jae reached the bottom of the stairs he realized all the thoughts of his baby had made his cock grow to its full length. He needed a glass of milk, a cookie or two, and then maybe a hot shower while he took care of his not-so-little problem. He'd try his hardest not to think of Wonyoung while he stroked, but knew from experience that it wasn't such an easy feat.

They were very close, Wonyoung and her father. Though he didn't like to admit it, Wonyoung had been a source of comfort while the intimacy with his wife had been dying down. Having his beautiful daughter snuggled up to him on the couch as they watched TV or shared a long conversation about nothing during a car ride made things far easier, and he loved her for it. If only Wonyoung shared his bed every night, he'd have a perfect relationship. The thought of Wonyoung in place of his wife, making love to her...Jae shivered.

From time to time, there was tension between Jae and his teenage daughter. He prayed that Wonyoung didn't see it as sexual, but he knew better. Just last week, she had been lying with him on the couch wearing very little. He'd tried to explain to her why she shouldn't wear clothing like that, but it was more difficult to say so without telling the innocent little brunette that it was he she had to be more decent around.

Her tube socks that day, a tiny pair of cotton shorts, and a shirt that, no matter how many times he tried to fix, kept slipping down over her shoulder and dominated his thoughts as they watched TV together. The exposed skin was already too much for him, but when Wonyoung had tried to move around on the couch, she had unknowingly brushed her hand right against his crotch. It was enough to make his cock jump to attention and, terrified that his daughter would discover it, he abruptly got up and walked out of the room. Even when he returned, he had to keep his daughter at a distance, though she quickly tried to cuddle up with him without the slightest concern for how she might be affecting him.

Sometimes his affection and the resulting thoughts he had about his teenager made him feel guilty. But Jae felt turned on when a pretty cashier touched his hand as they exchanged bills, or he heard a sexy voice on the phone; he resolved to stop beating himself up over it. Occasionally, his mind was going to places he hadn't asked it to, like right now when he remembered his daughter in her bathing suit as he passed it hanging on the railing to dry. God, did she have an unbelievable body, if only he could get his hands on her... all over her... He buried the thought and reminded himself that his cock was thinking for him at the moment. He reasoned that he'd probably hump a wall in his state right then.

To Wonyoung, her father was also the best part of her day. He just understood her better than everyone else. Despite what he said, everyone in the family knew she was his favorite. He never seemed to yell at her like he did with her other two siblings. Especially Jinwoo, they sometimes got in some screaming matches that scared her.

Her dad was a big and strong man, with hair that showed just a hint of gray with his age. All her friends swooned over him. Whenever they knew her dad would be around, her friends always seemed to put extra care into their appearance. Wonyoung frequently had to endure her friends flirting with her father or bending over at the car window when he came to pick her up so he could see down their shirts.

"Hi, Mr. Jang," they'd say in a sing-songy voice. Especially Yujin! Though she was Wonyoung's best friend, Yujin always turned gaga whenever Wonyoung's father was around.

"He's hot, Wonyoung. Any one of us would love to have him all over us like he is with you. Get over it!" Yujin would say whenever Wonyoung complained.

Wonyoung didn't ever agree out loud, but there was no denying some of the things they said. Of course, she knew he was a good-looking man; she was the one who spent so much time around him. He had a broad chest, and she could feel it when she laid her hand and head against him on the couch at night. He worked out often, and she knew that because he would chase her around the house when he came home, all gross and sweaty from the gym. His handsome face did little to reveal his age: forty-three with the spirit of a younger man.

He was the only boy, well... man, who gave her attention simply because he loved her. The boys at school only came near her when they were trying to touch her butt or put their hands on her boobs. Even her male teachers would leer at her when they thought she wasn't looking. Ugh... she often came home and ran to her daddy's arms to feel something real for once.

Wonyoung was a good girl and daughter, but her friends' words sometimes made her think... Every once in a while, she noticed her dad looking at her lovingly, making her feel tingly. She didn't mind having his eyes on her, though perhaps she should have, and occasionally she sought it out by wearing things that she thought made her look sexy or even a little slutty. She hoped her father didn't think less of her for it, but sometimes she just couldn't help around him.

That night, Wonyoung had stayed up late binge-watching a TV show on her computer. Hours after everyone had gone to sleep, she was still awake. A racy scene in the show made her fingers practically guide themselves under the covers to her panties. It wasn't very graphic, but as she heard the female character panting and watched the couple having 'sex' on screen, she knew she was getting turned on.

Wonyoung had never had sex before, and she didn't think she'd know how to properly. The pretty brunette had only ever kissed a boy, and she let one other touch her breasts over her shirt. But both boys had turned into super-jerks shortly afterward, telling everyone about their accomplishments with Wonyoung and making her the talk of the rumor mill at school for a few days each time. Of course, her father had been there to make her feel better when she got home, but she'd decided to keep boys her age at a distance since then.

So as Wonyoung's fingers found her panty-line and pried underneath, she did so without much knowledge of how to make herself feel good. A couple times, when she was turned on, Wonyoung had been able to rub the outside of her pussy until she had a short but rewarding orgasm. Last week, she had done so after a long night of cuddling with her dad, and had felt guilty afterwards knowing that he had played a part in her arousal. This time, after she had tried unsuccessfully for a few minutes, Wonyoung decided to try something new.

Yujin had told her that she should try using a vegetable. Wonyoung knew that was how sex worked, but for a long time she had felt guilty even touching herself, let alone sticking one of her mom's cucumbers up there! But now she was just too horny and very curious so she decided to take a look in the fridge.

The cute brunette walked on tiptoes to her door and opened it as quietly as possible. She wore a pair of cotton underwear when she'd gone to bed, but she had pushed them off in her heated frustration. Now all she had on was a white cotton tank-top, and though she considered going back to her bed to find her panties, Wonyoung felt sure she would be alone for as long as it took to get to the kitchen and back.

So she closed the bedroom door behind her and tiptoed down the stairs toward the kitchen. Wonyoung listened closely to the quiet of the house and, hearing nothing, went as quickly as possible to the fridge. It was dark in the house, with only the light from the clock on the microwave to illuminate the nearby space. Wonyoung almost knocked a vase to the ground, but steadied it before it fell.

'Phew,' she thought, shivering with a little chill as she felt the cool night air on her naked bottom. She had been so wet that her inner thighs were damp; had thinking about her daddy made her so horny like that? Wonyoung didn't always feel guilty when her father entered her thoughts inappropriately. Occasionally, she told herself that fantasizing about him wasn't wrong; she couldn't act out her thoughts. Plus, there was no way her father would ever reciprocate, even if she wanted him to.

Her little pussy felt even colder when she bent over to look in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. From behind the tiny brunette would have looked incredible, her legs held together and bending at the waist, naked bottom and her cute, bare pussy where anyone could see.

Still groggy as he walked down the stairs, Jae rubbed his eyes and yawned. But no matter how tired he felt, Jae knew he'd have trouble sleeping until he carried out this frustrating nighttime routine. He barely opened his eyes, knowing the house backwards and forwards as he did. When he finally came to the fridge, it didn't appear odd that it was already open. He was half awake and only had one thing on his mind: to take a big swig directly from the milk carton like his wife hated. Jae simply grabbed the handle of the open fridge and swung himself around it lazily, precisely the way he scolded his son for, to get a look inside.

Wonyoung was rummaging deep in the drawer when her fingers finally found what she was looking for, it was the perfectly sized... ughhhHHH

Bent at the waist the way Wonyoung was, her tiny young pussy couldn't have been in a more perfect spot.

As her father came around with one hand on the door and the other rubbing an eye, his erection couldn't have pointed any more directly.

He hadn't seen her there... he hadn't been looking for anyone there, but as soon as Jae's feet squared off toward the open fridge, he felt her. There was no mistaking that he had just come to a halt with his cockhead securely inside a wonderfully warm and tight pussy.

"Ouuuuuuwwwahhhh..." Wonyoung whined. She couldn't make sense of what had just happened and couldn't form words to protest. One second, she was searching in the fridge, and the next, she felt very intense pressure from the very spot she had been touching minutes ago. She could feel pain there, too, and it had happened all at once.

Jae's mind was still foggy, and the sudden change in sensation to his hard member made him throb, and his mind lost its place in time. The very intimate position in which he now found himself made him assume he simply hadn't checked to see if his wife was asleep when he got out of bed, and now he was finally getting the relief she'd deprived him of.

He hadn't been inside her in far too long, and seeing that she had yet to complain about the surprise sex, he made an impulsive decision to give in to his desires. Jae reached down and wrapped his hands around her bare hips; it wasn't like her to sleep bottomless, or with the sexy little tank top she now wore, but he wasn't going to complain. With a gentle push of his hips, Jae sank further into her.

"Nooooo...owwwfuuuuck!" Wonyoung cried.

"Bab,y please...it was an accident, I promise...but we haven't had sex in weeks." Jae pleaded

Wonyoung froze, her father could feel her go stiff through his palms, which were needily feeling her hips and tiny butt. Suddenly, she realized what had happened. Her father had accidentally put his penis inside her and now he thought Wonyoung was her mother. What's worse, Wonyoung could feel that her little pussy was so wet her father had slid into it easily.

She didn't know what to say. Her father had paused after pleading to continue, and Wonyoung was speechless. When she had been quiet for a few seconds, still bent over with her hair obscuring her face from his view, Jae took her silence as enough consent for him to finish his plunge into her.

"Noooo... stoppp," Wonyoung begged. Her father only did so when he'd sunk his entire cock into his daughter's young sheath. She felt so tight bent over like that; Jae made a mental note to fuck her in this position more often.

"But honey... You feel so good... I'll be quick, I promise." Jae continued. He was nearly buried in her. Hoping to convince her to submit, Jae pushed hard against her backside and forced his head to seek just a bit deeper.

Wonyoung felt him shove further and her untouched pussy throbbed with pain and unknown feelings as a result of being stuffed full of her daddy's cock.

"Nooo daddy... it's me... oooughhhh... It's Wonyoung."

Jae had only been half listening. The broken words coming out of her mouth hadn't registered, but the unfamiliar tightness of her pussy and the smaller, more toned nature of her backside was further confusing his addled brain. Jae withdrew his cock from his daughter's tight quim and was about to penetrate her for the second time when he heard:

"No daddy, pleaaassse!" Wonyoung muttered, her voice betrayed by the feelings her father's cock was causing her. "You can't, Daddy... It's me... your daughter."

Jae heard her this time, but he couldn't have heard right. Then again, something hadn't felt quite right when he first entered her, and her skin was smoother, her body more youthful. He reached down, palming the vicinity of Wonyoung's breast and lifting her upright so he could see her face. He didn't dare remove himself from inside of her; he couldn't bring himself to do so, regardless of the truth.

He hadn't misheard her. As he lifted his teenage daughter so that her hair fell around her shoulders, he recognized her face immediately. Suddenly the fact that her pussy had felt twenty years younger and her body more lean and seductive made sense. He had, only in unspoken fantasies, imagined what it would be like to make love to his beautiful daughter. Now, in the lone light of the open refrigerator, he was mistakenly penetrating her as he'd only dreamed.

Jae had stopped pulling out of her so that his tip now pulsed with excitement just beyond her pink lips. Wonyoung could feel her daddy there, a wider part of his manhood holding her quim open to him. She prayed he would remove himself and then explain to her, as he always did, that everything would be okay.

With his hand upon Wonyoung's pert breast and his other on her naked hip, it simply wasn't an option to stop. He was already committing incest. Jae had been buried inside his little eighteen-year-old once; what difference did it make in doing so again? Holding tight to his baby girl, he buried his waiting cock in one slow but steady thrust.

"MMmmmmphh... no Daddy, no!" Wonyoung pleaded as she felt her father fucking her again. "Daddy, I'm a virgin, you have to stop...ooouuuuw!"

"Oh Wonyoung, Daddy didn't mean to... ughhh," he sighed as his pelvis once again met his daughter's petite backside, "it was an accident baby... I didn't... ughhh... see you there."

Wonyoung felt her father pull out halfway and then shove back into her as he spoke. Jae knew what he was doing was wrong, but his morals were being battled by the warm entrenchment of his rod inside Wonyoung's teen pussy.

"It's okay, Daddy... I know you didn't mean to, but you have take your penis out of me... mmmhh... before you take my virginity."

Jae looked down between them at where his cock was halfway inside Wonyoung. He could see a small amount of blood from when he'd first encountered resistance at his daughter's hymen. Her years of tennis had probably made it so her cherry wasn't entirely obstructing her entrance, but there was no doubt that when he'd first entered her, he had taken his youngest daughter's virginity.

"Honey, you aren't a virgin anymore now," he told her definitively. He let the words sink in and couldn't help himself moving as slowly and imperceptibly as possible so he could feel the walls of Wonyoung's unclaimed pussy stimulating his cock.

Wonyoung cooed, she could feel her daddy's penis still moving inside her, "Oh no Daddy... did you take my virginity, are you sure?"

"Yes, baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."

The evidence of Wonyoung's virginity wasn't the only thing that Jae had noticed as he looked down at their incestuous connection. It was also hard to miss that his pretty teenager was soaking wet. Her juices had coated his rod thoroughly and were dripping down around his full balls. The realization surprised him and again he thrust upward into Wonyoung's quim in lust.

"If you're sorry dad... oooouummph... why do you keep fucking me? You're cock is too big daddy...oooooo... it hurts me"

Her father was surprised to hear Wonyoung say those dirty words, but far from chastising her. Jae was getting less and less subtle about continuing to chase the pleasure his tiny daughter's quim was giving him.

"Wonyoung, your little pussy makes my cock feel very good... ohhh... it won't hurt as much if I just fuck you a little more honey" his hips slapped against her buttocks and Wonyoung could feel her father prodding her deep enough to encounter resistance inside her.

His hands started to wander around Wonyoung's chest. The friction his fingers were causing by rubbing his fingers over her nipple with the cotton tank top between made her shiver involuntarily.

"But you can put your thing in mommy's pussy... ohhh shiiiit... You can't put it in mine. You could get me pregnant, Daddy!"

Jae stood his daughter up straight and slid his hand from her hip to the hem of her shirt. He didn't want to ignore the pleading of his baby girl; he hadn't even dreamt of deflowering her. But now that he had, Jae couldn't help himself. He could still feel his daughter's opening leaking with desire, and it gave him hope that he might win her over.

"Your mom doesn't let me anymore honey, and you are so much more beautiful than she is..." he told her truthfully, "you can only get pregnant if I cum inside you honey... ouhhhh... I promise I won't!"

Wonyoung felt him shoving his big cock into her again. She'd lost count of how many times he'd plunged into her now, but she was tingling from the inside out between that and the sweet compliment he'd paid her.

She could feel her father's hands getting bolder. One of them had found its way under her shirt and was moving its way up her flat stomach to her boobies. When he reached there, he hesitated with his thumb and forefinger, making a half-circle under her breast. As Wonyoung held her breath she felt her father move his hand so he was cupping her tit fully and testing its weight. Finally, he took her nipple between his fingers and squeezed gently; Wonyoung mewwed in response.

"Oh God, Daddy..." Wonyoung moaned as she felt her father urging his cock in and out of her.

She felt bad for him that her mother had not allowed her wonderful father any relief for many weeks. He was desperate enough to seek it from his daughter, though he may have mistakenly done so initially.

As Wonyoung's father was fucking her as gently as he could stand from behind, she could feel the shock and pain of losing her virginity to her father begin to subside just as he had promised. It was being replaced by something she had never felt before: a building pressure each time her father sank into her.

"Mnnnhhh... what if someone sees... unnnhhh..." Wonyoung complained, "you should stop now, you shouldn't fuck me anymore daddy... oooumpph..." No matter what she said, Wonyoung's pussy was drenched and her moans indicated to her father that if he continued she was going to experience her first orgasm by penetration.

His hands were roaming around, one on her tit and the other massaging the soft flesh around her hip. Her daddy was manhandling her, much different from how he usually held her as they fell asleep watching TV.

Twenty minutes ago, her father had crossed her mind more than once as she touched herself in the quiet darkness of her room. She had been thinking of him when she reached into the vegetable drawer in the fridge. She'd wondered what vegetable would be most similar to her father. Now that he was fucking her, she was pretty sure that nothing in the fridge was large enough to match him.

Wonyoung knew it was wrong; she knew she should push her father off and stop the incest they were committing right away. Why did she stay? Wonyoung wondered what her friend Yujin would say. She was always talking about how hot her daddy was and how bad she wanted him. Did Wonyoung want him too? Is that why she was starting to excitedly anticipate each time his cock would again be snugly thrust inside of her after withdrawal?

"Fuck daddy! You're cock is huge..." he was increasing the vigor of his thrusts, grasping her hip tightly and making sure he was into her before pulling back out. "Be careful dad please... unnhhhh... it hurts more when you fuck me harder!"

"Is this okay, baby?" Jae asked his daughter. He slowed down the pace but still savored the feeling of filling the tiny brunette completely again and again.

"Yes daaaad... uhhhh uhhhh... that feels much better."

He was surprised to hear his little girl finally yielding, and her wet pink pussy was still easing his repeated entry. The sounds of the house were always soothing to Jae: the drone of the fridge compressor, the click of the air conditioner turning on, or the breathing of his sleeping family. But the sounds coming from his teenage daughter were more wonderful to him than anything he'd ever heard... her labored breaths... the swishing of her tight pussy as it accepted his pistoning cock and the quiet whimpering as she felt a man's cock inside her for the first time.

Jae had been there for all of Wonyoung's firsts: her first steps, her first words, her first day at school. He'd held her when she got hurt or when she got a bad grade or whenever he felt his wife was being too harsh with his little girl. He had been there for Wonyoung's first break-up, even when she bought her first bra. Now Jae was always going to be his daughter's first time with a man, and the knowledge that he was claiming her bare, untouched pussy by reaching places with each thrust into her that no man had ever been before... the truth of it was the amazing beyond words.

For years, he'd looked on as Wonyoung became the beautiful girl she was today. In the dressing room, she'd asked how multiple bras looked when he took her to the mall to try them on. He shouldn't have been looking at his young daughter, but with her perfect globes nestled inside the supportive cups, even then, her body was a sight to behold. The thought that she would become such a gorgeous young daughter scared him... He loved her completely, beyond compare, and only dreamed that a man would be deserving enough to have her someday.

Now as he looked down, the dimples in her back where he'd pushed up her shirt and curve of her hips... he gasped... he couldn't believe he was the man fucking his daughter.

"Ohhh fuck... Daddy keep fucking me... ohgod..." she was forgetting to resist now, "you feel so good in my pussy dad."

Jae had felt so guilty when he realized for sure that it was his daughter whom he'd buried his cock into. Even more so when he discovered that he'd taken her virginity as well. But now... now that she was asking him to continue.. she wanted him to keep fucking her...

Jae established a good rhythm and could feel his little girl leaning backward to help him. In short order, he could tell that his teenage daughter was going to have an orgasm. She was breathing more heavily, crying out more needily.

"Ohh fuck... I feel strange... ouuuhhh... wai,t Daddy... hold on..."

But Jae knew what to do, and soon his little girl would be cumming on his cock just the way he wanted her to. He continued to push into her folds and prod her deep within.

"Ohh fuckkk... oh Daaad... "

Wonyoung's knees went weak. Her father supported her while continuing his unrelenting thrusts into her pussy. Her mind was suddenly white, and she felt pins and needles in all of her extremities. She howled

"Ohhhhhh Daaaaaaaaddyyyy."

It was like nothing Wonyoung had ever felt before. Her father had shoved into her and stayed there as she rode out her newly discovered orgasm. She felt so incredibly full. Her body seemed to conduct electricity through thin wires stretching from her fingers to the tips of her toes and all leading back to the apex point of pleasure behind her eyes.

Jae's cock throbbed as his little girl curled her toes against the hardwood floor and reached back clumsily for some kind of hold on him. He loved watching his daughter climax and simply savored the sight of her quaking in front of him, not to mention the way her virgin walls were clenching him as she did. Though her father's cock fit perfectly inside Wonyoung, she was even wetter than before and her juices were dripping from within her.

For the first time, Jae decided to remove himself from his daughter's drenched tunnel. She stood, but only with the support her father gave her. He turned Wonyoung towards him, her head hung low. With a finger at her chin, Jae lifted his daughter's head to look into her eyes.

She looked so pretty, a light sheen of sweat on her brow and flushed cheeks. Wonyoung kept her eyes closed for a moment, but they weren't angry when she finally opened them. They weren't hurt or sad or anything he had expected. Wonyoung had pleaded with him to stop, but as she came back to the world from an earth-shaking orgasm, Wonyoung was glad her father had kept fucking her.

She only looked a little embarrassed, like she hadn't expected to see so much pleasure from having her virginity taken by her father.

"I love you, baby," he told her.

Wonyoung looked at him closely, her big brown eyes holding his gaze for long enough that he was desperate to know what she was thinking.

"I love you, too, Dad."

He kissed her on the cheek, right next to her lips, and lingered there. Wonyoung felt him hesitate and brought her lips close enough to kiss him. Simultaneously, they closed the gap between them and brought their mouths together. Wonyoung kissed her father hungrily, thanking him for the beautiful feelings he'd shown her.

Each peck, each explorative placement of his lips on hers, Wonyoung understood why she wasn't upset with her daddy for continuing to fuck her when he did. Wonyoung's friends seemed to love her father and didn't know him half as well as she did. He was the best father a girl could have, and he was handsome to boot. So many times she had thought of him, alone in her bed at night, but she didn't ever know how he could make her feel. The tingling surface of her skin and her sensitive pussy was more than she had ever dreamt of. Now that she had the chance, why shouldn't she willingly accept her father? Nobody had to know... Wonyoung shivered at the taboo thoughts.

Their tongues darted out to meet each other. Wonyoung didn't have much experience kissing boys, but she loved kissing and making out with her dad. Jae felt like a teenager again and found his hands moving of their own volition to feel the tiny frame of the teenager in his arms. He wanted to be inside her again, but only if she chose to this time.

When her father's hands once again found her perky breasts under the shirt, Wonyoung knew he wanted her to take it off. She readily lifted her arms above her head, surprising her father with her willingness. He quickly obliged her, pulling the shirt off and revealing her young tits to him.

God, she was so gorgeous and irresistible, and her breasts were more prominent and shapelier than her mother's. Jae put his hands on her, and Wonyoung watched closely as they roamed all over her.

"You're so beautiful, Wonyoung," he told her, "and you made me feel wonderful, honey."

As Wonyoung was looking down she caught a glimpse of her father's cock again. It WAS large, and it was silvery with all the wetness she must have covered him in. It was sticking straight upward, and she could feel it bobbing against her leg at a pace that must have been his heartbeat.

"Why is it still so big, Dad?"

"Because I am so turned on looking at you. I'm thinking about making love to you, sweetheart."

Wonyoung shrugged with embarrassment. In doing so, she looked adorable, and her teardrop breasts shook with the motion of her shoulders.

"You want to fuck me again don't you daddy?"

Jae felt guilty. Hearing the naughty words from his little girl's mouth made the deed very real. Still, he shook his head, 'Yes.'

Wonyoung may have been inexperienced, but she knew how dangerous it would be for them to have sex again. In class at her high school, the book showed her how to find out when her period would come and when she was most likely to become pregnant. If she was doing it right, she was right at the best time for her daddy's sperm to find her egg and make her pregnant. And the book had also said always to use protection, like a condom or birth control, and she wasn't using either one.

"What if I just put my mouth on it?" Wonyoung suggested. She felt his penis throb perceptively when she did.

"You like that idea, don't you, Daddy?"

Wonyoung proceeded to get down on her knees and gingerly take her father's erection in her hand. She could still feel her stickiness on him, and she knew more was coming from deep within her.

Wonyoung tested the head of his cock at her lips, looking up at him with her pretty eyes and hoping she did a good job. Slowly she opened her mouth and took in the head of her cock. She sucked on it gently, not minding at all that she could taste herself on him.

The little brunette tried to emulate what her father might have felt when he had his big penis inside of her; she encircled his shaft with both hands and moved them up and down while she lapped at his tip. Her father moaned.

"Oh, honey, you're doing wonderful," he said as he tossed his head back.

Wonyoung sucked on him and tried her best to take more into her mouth. She knew that some girls could take the whole thing, but hard as Wonyoung tried she could get less than half of her father's cock in her mouth. She wondered what it would taste like if he squirted his white stuff into her mouth.

Wonyoung sucked and stroked and like an angel she praised her father with her mouth. He did his best to watch her, though she made him feel so wonderful that he could barely stand at a few points. When he did look at her, the image of her perched in front of him with his cock in her mouth and looking up at her with her soulful, innocent brown eyes...it would be burned in his mind forever. He told her that his daughter was doing a wonderful job for her first time. But hard as she tried, and beautiful as she looked kneeling, Jae had one thing on his mind.

"Baby," he beckoned her, "stand up, let me see you again."

She obeyed him, arising so that her breasts brushed against his abdomen as she did. After admiring her for a few more seconds, Jae wasted no time lifting his daughter onto the island and she knew immediately by the proximity of his cockhead to her entrance what his intentions were.

"Daddy," she warned, "I don't think you should fuck me anymore, it's too risky."

"I promise, sweetie," her father sounded desperate again. I'll be very careful. If I'm very careful, you won't get pregnant. Cross my heart."

"I don't know, Daddy," she continued to protest, "I don't think we should, it's too dangerous right now for my fertility cycle. We'd be in so much trouble!"

"I know, honey, how about I just put the tip in you for a minute?" Jae negotiated. He was already prodding his daughter's mound with his large head, and Wonyoung was beginning to wish he would press harder and keep making her feel good. For a brief moment, the thought of her father's penis shooting his warm sperm into her pussy entered Wonyoung's conflicted brain. She knew it was even more wrong than having an orgasm or sucking her daddy's cock, but what would it feel like? Wonyoung loved her father more than anybody, even her mom; what if he did get her pregnant? She was so confused and wasn't supposed to want it, but this night was unlocking feelings she'd never conceived of before.

"Okay, but only for a minute, right?" Wonyoung relented. She didn't want to sound as eager as her body felt.

Jae didn't respond with words. The waiting had nearly driven him to madness. He pushed his tip against Wonyoung's still very wet lips. They parted and allowed his head to pop into her entry. Once again Jae had the thought that he'd never feel something so good as being inside his daughter's little pussy.

"Ouuwwh, Daddy!" she cried, feeling him inside her again. Her father's tip alone felt bigger in their new position. It hurt a little, but still she watched intently as he withdrew his tip and pushed it into her again. Both gasped as he did so, listening to each other and feeling everything from their incestuous connection between them.

Jae removed and replaced his tip in his teenager's pussy enough times that she lost count. He had gone on longer than promised but wasn't done yet.

"Ohhh fuck Dad," she whimpered, "it feels terrific now!"

Wonyoung's mouth had brought him close, but Jae needed to come more than he ever had before in his life. He dared push his cock a little further into his daughter. She noticed immediately, but assumed it was only an accident.

When he did it again, Wonyoung called him out.

"...Fuuckk," she blurted, "Daddy, you promised."

"I know baby, just a little more!"

Maybe Jae had intended to keep his word, but once he felt her tiny channel more deeply wrapped around his cock, his promises began to evaporate.

He pushed into his daughter again, and then deeper, and then withdrew, and then thrust back in. In a few moments he was fucking his youngest daughter along the full length of his cock. Wonyoung, for all her protest, could not hide how much pleasure it was giving her,

"Oooohhhh Dad... mnnnh fuck... It's so big..."

She certainly didn't sound like she wanted him to stop, and Wonyoung's feet were wrapped around her father's tight core. His abs rippled as he fucked her deeply and ever so gently her heels were pulling him in. She watched in wonder as the tip of her father's penis would peek out from between her lips and then the whole thing disappear entirely into her. She couldn't believe it fit. She lost track of time, but when she looked back at Jae's face, she could see him cringing and focusing hard.

"Okay, Daddy, shouldn't you stop now?"

Instead, she felt him grab on tightly to her hips and squeeze. Wonyoung put her hands on his strong chest, not knowing whether she wanted to push him away or hold on tight. He was much too strong for her; she could do nothing but accept the deliberate thrusts of her father into her. Her hands felt his manly chest instead, the hair upon his pecs and the dampness of sweat from fucking her so well. Did he know how badly she wanted him to continue? Should she keep protesting?

As he held on tightly, Jae could feel his orgasm building. He watched the soft spot between her hips mounding as he buried his cock in her fully before removing it. Her melodic panting and moaning were beginning to be too much for him.

"I'm almost there, sweetheart."

"Alright, dad, please... ouuumphh... It's too risky!"

Wonyoung felt her father pick up speed for a few more thrusts until he squeezed her hips tight and began to tense.

Then she knew what was happening.

"Daddy, no!"

Jae went stiff as soon as he was buried in his young daughter's pussy. He gladly released a first, powerful jet of sperm into Wonyoung's womb. It immediately gave his daughter a jolt. Then another, and another; his tip painted the little girl's walls, her cervix and everywhere it could with his forbidden cum. Whether he had promised to or not, the intensity filling the beautiful teenager felt unquestionably right.

Wonyoung tried to be mad at him, but before she could scold him or yell or even try to push him off, the hot, forbidden sensation of what she knew was her father's semen made her quake from the inside out. Like before, Wonyoung's body trembled, her skin crawled and her insides squeezed more cum from her father's buried cock. It was the most wonderful feeling, and her second orgasm rocked her more powerfully than the first. It was so wrong that her daddy's cum squirting into her was making her quake with so much pleasure.

Jae shakily withdrew an inch of his embedded member from his daughter's insides and then roughly pushed it back in. His cock emitted another rope into her fertile and unprotected womb.

He had never felt so invigorated and so satisfied, and Jae was quite certain that he'd never cum so much in his life as he just had inside his daughter. Wonyoung wrapped her arms around his neck when her orgasm had struck her and was, willingly or not, still quivering as the last bit of her father's seed dribbled from his head and topped off her overfilled pussy.

His daughter held onto him, overwhelmed by the climax she hadn't expected and the incestuous load she now carried inside her. The sheer amount of it, and the feeling of her father's cum was unlike anything she'd ever felt and still his hard cock was filling her the rest of the way.

"Daddy...you promised," Wonyoung pouted as she met his eyes with hers.

"I know, baby, you were just too sexy... I had to!" Her father reasoned.

She was still mad, though his tactics to win her weren't completely lost.

"You lied to me! You said you wouldn't cum inside my pussy and then you came so much!"

Wonyoung was right; he could feel his semen all over his buried rod. He knew that if Wonyoung had been telling the truth, his little swimmers would soon make their way even deeper into his daughter, and she could conceive his child. He looked down to see it.

Jae pulled his cock, still hard, from within his daughter's sensitive hole, watching her tremble as he did so. As soon as his head was revealed, white, milky cum pushed its way around him. As he fully disengaged, his load cascaded from within her deflowered pussy.

Wonyoung's eyes went wide.

"Oh my God, Daaaad! There's sooo much!" She sounded more amazed than upset.

"Quick, daddy, get it out before I get pregnant!" Wonyoung cried, reaching down to where his cum was dripping from within her.

Jae took his daughter's hand tenderly instead, "It's too late for that, honey."

Wonyoung felt so conflicted. She was worried, but only because people like her mother and that awful teacher in her sex education class told her she should be. Yet her daddy didn't look worried at all. As he took her hand and pulled her up toward him, Wonyoung was already feeling much better. They kissed lovingly, neither fully believing the wonderful, forbidden, and life-changing thing they'd just shared.

"What should we do, Daddy?"

Jae looked down at his daughter's young and freshly-fucked opening. Seeing that his cum was about to flow onto the granite countertop, Jae made a quick decision. He'd only once accomplished it with his wife, but he thought his odds were better with a beautiful girl whom he loved far more. Could he fuck his daughter again while his defiant member bobbed, still rock hard, tantalizingly close to Wonyoung's cute little slit?

Jae dared to scoop up the stream of his cum that had leaked out with his cock head and push it back into his daughter's pussy. He was too turned on to stop fucking his beautiful little girl yet. She shrieked with sensitivity.

Usually, even the faintest touch would send a shiver up Jae's spine, and it did, but he kept fucking her. Feeling the lubrication of his fresh cum easing his path into his daughter he decided to press on.

"Ohhhhh Daddy... ohhh pleaaase... It's too sensitive... fuckkkkk!" his little girl cried.

Jae had been here before, and his desire to follow through prevailed. He cringed and he bucked, but he was determined to fuck his little Wonyoung until he was utterly spent. It was not long until he could feel his balls, unbelievably, building toward a second consecutive orgasm.

Wonyoung had been so overwhelmed by her father's actions that she hadn't the chance to look, but when she finally did she could tell that her daddy was going to cum inside her again, and so soon after he just had the first time!

"Ohhhh fuck daddy... twice?" Wonyoung was about ready to pass out. "You can't cum in my pussy again!"

He didn't answer, with a labored series of grunts and moans, Jae once more buried his cock as deep as it would go and unloaded another sizable amount of semen into his little girl. Jet after jet, he added his cum to her already charged insides. He held her tight and Wonyoung watched him intently as he came. Though he was doing exactly what he'd promised not to, seeing her father so wholly give himself into his desires, and knowing that she had been his lover through it all, warmed her more than the multiple loads of her father's seed she now held within her.

Before he allowed his whole body to go limp, Jae lifted his baby off the kitchen counter and lay down on the nearby area rug with her on top of him. He didn't pull out of her. He didn't want to ever again.

Wonyoung and her father lay in the dark for an untold time. As they drank each other in, the teen's soft breasts pressed against Jae, and he felt her breathing deeply. She seemed tinier when draped over him as she was. His baby girl... completely naked and still with his softening cock inside of her... the thought was incredible to behold.

The young brunette propped her head up on her hands, the hairs on her father's chest tickling her palms. She looked up at him. She could tell he was utterly drained, and she could feel his cum slowly making its way out of her sore pussy.

"You're bad, daddy!" Wonyoung said.

Jae opened his eyes and peered down at her. Expecting her to be upset, or sad, or something of the like, he was surprised to see a naughty grin on his pretty daughter's face. Confused, Jae furrowed his brow and replied:

"You're not mad at me?," hoping she wasn't.

"Wellllllllll..." she teased him, tilting her head and making him wait for her answer, "you did take my virginity, daddy..."

"I know, baby, I had no idea... I didn't even know it was you... I never would have..."

"Hmmmph!" Wonyoung interrupted, "You never would have? You seemed like you liked fucking me Dad..."

She was goading him now. That girl he knew was a little rambunctious, definitely with a naughty streak.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes. I'm not stupid, Daddy." He didn't know what to say to his little girl, but she was right. "I think about you sometimes, too, Dad..."

Jaee raised his eyebrows, "You do?"

"Every once in a while... when I'm in bed and can't fall asleep. My friends talk about you all the time, I can't help it!" she told him. Knowing that his daughter thought about him that way made the fact that he'd just fucked her seem a little better. "But I never thought you would put your big thing in me when I was just looking in the refrigerator, like totally out of the blue!" she exclaimed.

"I swear it was an accident, sweetheart, I didn't mean to startle you," Jae reiterated

"And what about all this cum daddy? It's dripping out 'cause you put so much in me! Was it an accident when you came in my pussy...? TWICE!?" He could tell now that she was just playing with him. She reached between them where it was seeping out of her. Jae watched, incredulous, as she took a finger and swept some of it from the stream that had made its way out from her tight little tunnel. Without hesitation, she brought it up, looked at it curiously, and then popped her finger in her mouth, tasting it and swallowing his excess semen like it was no big deal.

Jae looked at her sideways, "Okay, maybe that wasn't an accident..." he admitted, "but you don't look so upset, baby."

Wonyoung smiled, licking her lips. "...maybe because I'm not."

Her father smiled too. He slid her little body up so her lips could meet his, and they kissed. Firs,t Wonyoung just pecked at him, but shortly thereafter, they were making out again and playfully dancing their tongues about. When they broke apart, Wonyoung laid her head next to her father's.

"You know I'm not on birth control, right, Daddy?"

"Yes, I know." Jae said with an 'oops' look on his face.

Wonyoung giggled, "And you still squirted all that sperm in me, even when I told you how easily I could get pregnant?"

"Yeaaah... I did, didn't I?" Jae replied playfully.

"Hmmm..." his little girl sighed, "That would be so naughty, wouldn't it, Dad? You could have gotten me pregnant already!"

The possibility didn't scare him like he thought it would. An image of Wonyoung, his favorite daughter, with her beautiful black hair and brown eyes staring at him, the bulge of his child in her belly. She would look so lovely with that tiny body and his baby inside of her.

"We can go to the store tomorrow if you want, sweetie. We can get a pill that makes sure you don't get pregnant."

"Oh," Wonyoung said, sounding disappointed. Or...? " she asked nervously.

"Or what, honey?" Jae asked, totally confused.

"What if I don't take the pill?" Wonyoung said with an embarrassed shrug. She hoped her father wouldn't be mad at her suggestion.

Wonyoung thought he looked surprised, but then his eyes were full of love. "Well...I don't know... I mean I..." Jae stuttered, feeling smitten that his daughter would suggest something he'd only fantasized about.

Wonyoung thought it was cute that her dad was trying to pretend when she could so clearly tell that the thought appealed to him. "I guess we'd wait a little while. You'd miss your period, your belly would grow, and then we'd know you're carrying your daddy's baby."

Wonyoung's brown eyes were opened wide, waiting for him to say more. The corners of her mouth turned upward, and she looked adorably curious. Jae could hardly say no to his little girl, but this was entirely different. Thoughts were racing through his head, not least of which how wonderful it felt to have his naked little daughter draped over him as they spoke; that he'd never have another child with his wife; that he fully intended on fucking Wonyoung every chance she allowed him. If she was willing, she'd be perfectly fertile and healthy to make a baby with him.

"Do you think you might want that Wonyoung?" he paused, "I know you'd look so pretty with our baby growing in your belly."

Wonyoung giggled and bit the tip of her finger. "I think I might, Daddy, but I don't know for sure. It makes me so happy thinking about it that I'm tingling, but..." She was obviously working hard to wrap her head around it.

"You don't have to decide no,w honey, and nobody would know for a few months," Jae assured her.

Wonyoung knew that she loved her father more than life itself. For month,s she had been taking on her mother's role in his life, and she did so knowingly. He had confided in her, held her like a lover when she was down, even taken her out on dates. She was now awakened to the thought that she could truly be her daddy's forever. Her mom couldn't have her father's babies anymore, but she certainly could. Wonyoung was starting to allow the thought that she wanted to, badly.

"I graduate soon, daddy," she reasoned, "would anybody at school have to know?"

"No, sweetie. It could be our secret." He couldn't believe he was considering it.

"And then what?" Wonyoung continued.

"And then... well..." her father looked deep in thought. I don't have it all figured out yet, Wonyoung, but I'd do anything for you, no matter what."

Wonyoung felt so completely enveloped in his love that she ached for him. Her little pussy was much too sore to accept him again that night, but Wonyoung had never felt such desire for a man before then. It was as if their little accident had brought out a part of her she never knew existed, locked in tight by her virginity: the part that wanted her daddy to be her lover, to be his again and again, and to become pregnant with his child whether the world said she could or not.

"How about we talk about it more in the morning?" Jae suggested.

"Okay, daddy, but we'll have to be extra careful." Wonyoung was very surprised and felt lucky nobody had heard them making love. Most of her family were heavy sleepers, but she had certainly been making a lot of noise as her father impaled her in the kitchen. It was also funny to Wonyoung that she suggested being careful when so much good had come from her father not being careful, cumming in her vulnerable little pussy with no condom.

They kissed again. It was a long one, and different than before. They both intended to build upon an unspoken promise of more, a deeper love. Wonyoung knew she wasn't supposed to feel that way about her father, and Jae about his little girl, but neither cared. Taking their relationship to such heights had primarily been by accident. But the sexual tension between them had been broken by the forbidden seed Wonyoung carried inside her, and they kissed with an unhinged passion most could never know.

Jae picked up his daughter easily. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he slowly carried the cute brunette up the stairs toward her room. They could both feel his cum seeping from Wonyoung, telling definitively of their act. Their naked bodies holding each other tight and the looks they exchanged were evidence enough.

Jae gently sat his daughter on the bed, and she held on tight, not wanting him to leave her. She watched lovingly as her father pulled the covers back and slipped into bed with her.

"I love you so much, Daddy," she told him sincerely. I was nervous at first, but I don't regret anything that happened."

"I love you, too, baby, and I want you to know that I will be here to ensure everything turns out okay."

"I know you will," Wonyoung said adorably, holding her father tight as she drifted off to sleep.

Not long into her slumber, she felt her father leave quietly. Feeling hurt, she reasoned that he probably needed to return to her mother's bed so they wouldn't get found out. Still, she felt jealous, wanting him only for herself.

But the door to her room opened again, and back came her father.

He saw her eyes open and hurt. " You thought I was leaving you, didn't you, sweetie?"

"I know you need to, I just don't want to sleep without you tonight," she admitted.

"I had to clean up our little mess," he explained, holding up their discarded clothing. "...probably not a good thing for your mother to see our clothes all over the floor or how wet you made the kitchen table, right?"

Wonyoung smiled guiltily, "Definitely not! I suppose I shouldn't tell her that daddy came in my pussy without a condom on TWO times tomorrow at breakfast?"

"No, you probably shouldn't mention that," Jae laughed. He wrapped his arm around his naked daughter and pulled her tight to him. "Now get some sleep, honey."

Wonyoung cuddled up to him with the biggest smile on her face. A naughty little part of her hoped that he meant to get some sleep because she would need it. Her recently filled pussy was still recovering, but Wonyoung knew she'd want her daddy to fuck her again before too long.

Jae had fallen asleep deep in thought, planning what to do next. With his beautiful daughter nuzzled against him, he felt certain that everything would be different. They had a whole new life ahead of them.

As they drifted off, Wonyoung's young womb was also striving to make a new life. By morning, she could already have conceived her father's child. For now, it was enough that the beautiful teenager could fall asleep, cradled in the arms of her loving father. Tomorrow was another day; they could spend it and many more tomorrows falling more deeply in love. Wonyoung was so young that it could be many months before her belly showed evidence of the night they had shared... or those to come.

#ive smut #wonyoung smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #ive #wonyoung #smut #kpop #ive wonyoung #girl group smut

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lieslab · 3 months ago

Text

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Han X gn reader

Summary: Your boyfriend finds you celebrating your birthday alone in the dark.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I'm choking on nostalgia at 1 am and if I'm suffering, I'm afraid I'm going to make you suffer with me too. Happy birthday, celebrate your birthdays, or I'll cry.

_ _ _

“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me.”

The lyrics were murky as your brain tried to remember the song from so long ago. With the light on above the kitchen sink, your view of the area was pretty dim. In front of you, a perfectly wrapped cupcake was topped with sprinkles and a single lit candle.

Still tucked in your pajamas, you stood beside the kitchen island and sang quietly to yourself. The small flame reflected in your eyes and once you finished the song, the dark kitchen went back to silence. Your eyes remained on the flickering flame.

The wax of the single black candle slowly began to ooze down the side. In the back bedroom, your boyfriend was sound asleep. Han had been out cold since he came home a few hours ago. Another day of practice and recording left him exhausted.

In your head, it was fortunate. Your birthday was today, but the truth? You never had plans to celebrate it. What was the point, anyway? Another year of growing older. Another year where you’re forced to confront that you’re creeping closer and closer to death.

Days tick by, but the thought haunts your subconscious. One of these days, it just might be your last and you’ll never know until it happens. Your anxiety surrounding death had been growing lately.

Birthdays weren’t special to begin with. Birthdays were somewhat enjoyable as a kid. There was cake and ice cream. A few presents and a signed card.

And then you grew up.

The presents became less. The cakes disappeared. The few friendships dissolved and that was that. If anything, birthdays were just a painful reminder of how lonely you felt. Was there really anything to celebrate anymore?

The wrinkles deepened and the mistakes of the past weighed on your heart heavily. Three-hundred and sixty-five days had passed since this time last year. So many years from when you were born into this world and it still felt pointless; just another nail in the coffin.

“What are you doing?” Han’s sleepy voice broke through your thoughts. Across the way, his hands wiped at his sleepy eyes. He yawned and his attention went down to the flickering flame. “You made yourself a cupcake at this hour?”

“Um…” Your head shook and you leaned forward to blow out the candle. “Something like that, I suppose.”

Finally more awake, his half-lidded eyes met yours. He scanned the sink behind you for dirty dishes, but there wasn’t any. The scent of cake didn’t linger in the air. It must have been something you bought from a store.

“A cupcake for a midnight snack is a weird choice, isn’t it? I’ve heard that sugar can give you nightmares before bed.”

An ache squeezed your hollow heart at his words. You longed for the flavors to burst on your tongue, but instead you nodded. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. I’ll probably just save it for dessert tomorrow after lunch or something.”

The empty plastic container that used to hold the cupcake had been placed on the back counter. You spun around to grab it and blinked rapidly, trying to hide your tears. Han didn’t remember your birthday, of course, he didn’t.

It wasn’t something you could be mad about. It’s not like you told him about your birthday. In fact, when he brought it up, you switched the topic. Your birthday felt so unimportant and dull, you tried to forget about it most of the time.

But this birthday? Nostalgia bit into your heart this year. You longed for rich icing and moist cake. You wanted to recall the way your laugh sounded higher-pitched in childhood. If you chewed and squeezed your eyes shut, you were sure you could remember your mother back when you were only seven.

When her hair was its original color and time hadn’t worn her down. Back when her joints were younger and she didn’t mention pain all the time. Her hair was longer and life seemed brighter.

To a time when your father seemed to notice you more. When the future was bright and sitting on top of his shoulders made you squeal with delight. Up there, anything seemed possible and with his hands supporting your legs, you could do anything.

Time is cruel and adulthood will rob you of everything you hold dear if you let it. Sharp teeth rip bites from your heart. Relationships fade and without work on either end, the distance between people grows like wild ivy. Phone calls dwindle and the steady texts disappear.

Your parents become strangers. Friendships you knew like the back of your hand become foreign. Everything crumbles and then you’re left holding onto, not people, but the memories. Memories are just daggers to a beating heart.

Things feel so achievable when you're young. Birthdays are some of the most exciting times of a child’s life. Dreams were so easy to accomplish back then, the sky was the limit, but this was now. Your star-dusted dreams died out so long ago, you couldn’t see them anymore.

Han didn’t notice you reaching up to wipe a tear, but he noticed the rainbow sprinkles on the cupcake. He knew a lot of things about you and he knew that you didn’t like sprinkles on your cupcakes. You claimed they were too childish and yet, they were scattered along top of swirled icing.

When it finally clicked, his eyes widened. “Oh my god, wait.” You spun around and his head snapped to you. “It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does! What do you mean?” He rushed across the tile floor and grabbed you. “Happy birthday! I can’t believe I missed out on telling you that. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe birthdays are just stupid.”

You pulled yourself from his grip and grabbed the cupcake with two hands. You didn’t get far when he grabbed a fistful of your shirt and gently tugged you back to face him. “What do you mean?”

Your eyes stayed on the floor. You couldn’t bear to look at those soft brown eyes. Not tonight, not with all the jumbled emotions swarming you. If your eyes found him, you’d fall apart in seconds.

“What?”

“Do you ever think about how pointless they are? So? I’m a year older, who cares?” You tried to squirm from his grip.

“I care.” His hand reached up, gently grabbed your chin, and he made you face him. “I care an awful lot about your birthday. You’re here with me, aren’t you?”

His cheeks puffed up in a sad smile. “You made it. Look at you go. Isn’t that something worth celebrating? Something to be proud of? You’ve done so much.”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“You’ve done everything. You’ve survived every challenge and you learned a lot. You discovered new things about yourself. You exist and that itself should be celebrated.”

Your bottom lip quivered and you blinked rapidly. Your voice came out wobbly. “You’re not supposed to make me cry on my birthday.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to make your boyfriend cry on your birthday either, but it’s happening.” His thumb reached up to catch a stray tear. Just as your tear fell, his own soon followed.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because it makes me sad that you don’t view yourself like I do. You’re so precious to me and I hate that you can’t see the good. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated. Haven’t you ever had a surprise party or a party with all of your friends?”

“Not really. I’ve had stuff with one or two friends, but never a surprise party. I didn’t have a large group of friends. My birthday parties were themed around my family and then I started to grow up. Families don’t care about birthdays once you reach a certain age.”

His head shook, but you nodded. “That’s how it was with my family,” you continued. “Birthdays are just a waste of time and-” You gently lifted the cupcake. “Money. Besides, sprinkles are childish.”

It tore his heart to shreds. In the dim light, you looked defeated. Your hair was a mess and brown bags curled beneath your eyes. Sadness pooled in the corners of your eyes and stayed there.

He reached out and pulled the cupcake from your cupped hands. Setting it back on the counter, he hurried over to grab a lighter from a distant junk drawer. His name left your lips, but he ignored you.

He came back to the table and the lighter flickered to life. The sparking flame reappeared and relit the candle on the cupcake. He stepped back and gestured to you to step forward. “Go ahead and make a wish.”

“But I-”

“Make a wish.”

You stared at him for a moment. Wet streaks lined his cheeks, but the way he looked at you in that moment, it inflated your heart again. The flutter of hope in his eyes. The way the flame danced in his pupils. His hands kept gesturing for you to blow out the candle. His usual smile still tugged at one side of his mouth.

You shut your eyes, stepped up, and sent out a single stream of air. The flame was there and then gone, just like that. Before you reopened your eyes, Han clapped excitedly. “Happy birthday, baby!”

You squealed as you were grabbed by your waist. “Han Jisung!” He giggled with glee and slung you over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“No can do, we’ve got places to go, people to go see, and a birthday to celebrate. The night is still so young and we’re not going to waste it.”

“It’s midnight!”

“It’s basically happy hour somewhere. So first I was thinking that we should go get Minho. We can use him to break into Seungmin and Felix’s dorm. We can steal Felix’s video games and while we do that, Minho can draw a mustache on Seungmin with a permanent marker. In the morning, it’ll all be Lix’s fault.”

“That’s cruel.”

“And the entertainment from pranks lasts forever. So then we’ll sneak into Chan’s and Jeongin’s place and raid their food stash. We’ll end the night in Changbin and Hyunjin’s dorm. You can get sappy with Hyunjin while we eat snacks. Changbin can sing happy birthday at the top of his lungs.”

When he put you down outside your apartment’s front door, he grimaced. Your arms were crossed over your chest and you scowled at him. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

“Uh…”

“It’s perfect, let’s go.” You looped your hand through his and began to tug him into Seoul’s darkness. “But since it’s my birthday, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Hey, I thought you didn’t like your birthday.”

“It turns out, I like it when it can be used as a get out of jail free card.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #skz fanfic #stay #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz #han jisung #han jisung stray kids #han skz #han jisung skz #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #han jisung x y/n #han jisung comfort

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unstable-samurai · 8 months ago

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Instructions

Irene x Male Reader

word count: 3.2K

—

You drive up to Irene's mansion, where every inch of the lawn looks meticulously manicured, and the fountain at the entrance shoots water in a pattern that can only be described as "obscenely expensive." You still can't believe you were hired to train a woman who doesn't seem to need a single day in the gym, but money is money, right?

You step out of the car and walk to the front door, a massive wooden structure that probably weighs more than your car. Before you have the chance to knock, the door opens as if the house has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. Irene appears, and the first thing you think is that the photos simply don't do her justice.

She's like an upgraded version of a classic diva, someone with a beauty that would be admired in any era of humanity, now enhanced by all the improvements time could offer. Black hair cascading in soft waves, feline eyes that devour you in a fraction of a second, and a posture that makes you wonder if you're standing before a queen or a trap disguised as a woman.

"Oh, I was excited to finally meet my personal trainer," she says.

"Ms. Irene," you reply, offering your hand in a gesture that feels outdated in her presence. Her hand is soft and firm, and the grip is just enough to make you feel that you are, without a doubt, in foreign territory.

"Come on, I'll show you the house," she says, turning quickly without waiting for a response. You follow her, walking through a house that is a maze of marble, stainless steel, and glass. Every piece of art on the walls screams in a flamboyant way, "I have more money than you can imagine," and the faint scent of fresh flowers lingers in the air, as if even the aroma of the house was custom-made.

"This here is the living room," she says, passing through a room larger than your entire apartment, and you pretend not to be impressed. "And over there is the kitchen. You might need something to drink after the workouts. Or during, if I decide to tire you out too much."

She smiles again, and this time you can’t help but smile back, with that kind of irony that only arises when you know you're in trouble.

"This is the bedroom," she says, stopping in front of a closed door. You feel the tension rise a bit, and she notices it. "Not that you’ll need it, but I thought you'd like to know where it is." She opens the door and reveals a room that looks like it came straight out of a decor magazine: an immense bed, silk sheets, and a view of the garden that seems hand-painted.

"Nice place," you say, more out of politeness than anything else.

"Thank you. Now, the gym," she says, as if this was the true purpose of the entire visit. She leads you to a room where all the exercise machines seem to shine with newness. "I need to stay in shape, after all," she says, leaning casually on a treadmill, her posture suggesting that the idea of sweat is something completely alien.

"Shall we begin, then?" you ask, already pulling out the water bottle from your bag, trying to appear professional.

You decide to start the session with the basics, which seems like the best approach when dealing with someone whose idea of physical effort probably consists of reaching for the remote control.

"So, Irene, have you trained before?" you ask, but in your mind, she doesn’t exactly look like the type who frequents a gym.

She smiles, that smile you're already beginning to associate with trouble. "Only if you count marathon shopping trips and half-hour Pilates sessions with my instructor who told me to breathe deeply and think of happy places. Does that count?"

You smile back. "Well, let's start with something simple. A warm-up. Just to prepare the muscles."

"Oh, I love a good warm-up," she replies.

You guide her through some basic stretches, and of course, she starts asking for help. "Can you show me how to do this one? I've always had trouble with it," she says while trying to touch her toes.

You approach, placing your hands on her waist to guide her, trying to ignore the fact that she’s perfumed for a workout. "Like this, push a little further forward... That’s it."

She lets out a soft sigh, almost inaudible, but you notice. "I don't think I've ever had someone help me like this," she says, making you realize that "help" has multiple connotations for her.

"Practice makes perfect," you respond, trying to stay focused.

After the warm-up, you lead her to the weight machines. "Let's start with something simple, like the leg extension machine. This will work your quadriceps."

She looks at the machine as if it were some kind of medieval torture device. "Quadriceps... Right. And this does what exactly? Makes me gain muscles?"

"Exactly. You sit here, adjust the weight, and lift your legs to extend the knee. It’s great for toning the thighs."

She sits down, but instead of following your instructions, she just pretends to be confused. "I don't think I'm getting it. Can you show me again?"

You lean in to help her adjust the position of her legs, and you feel her gaze fixed on you. "Like this? Is it good now?" she asks, her voice softer than it should be for a simple exercise instruction.

"Yes, it's perfect," you reply.

"So, have you been training for a long time?" she asks as you guide her through the exercise. "It’s noticeable, you know... by your physique, the way you explain…"

"I’ve been training for a few years. It’s a passion of mine."

"Passion? Interesting," she says. "And are you single? Or is there someone waiting for you at home after you spend the day helping women like me stay in shape?"

You hesitate, realizing that the conversation is veering off course.

"I'm single. I guess my work takes up most of my time. What about you? You told me your husband is always traveling, right?"

"He's away most of the time, yes. His work is... demanding. But luckily, I know how to take care of myself," she says, lifting her legs on the machine with a little more enthusiasm. When Irene was done, she paused to drink water, then walked between the machines until she chose the next one. “Hey, help me here. I don't want to mess up the movement, I need your guidance." She says, standing in front of the lat pulldown machine.

"Oh, great. This one’s for your back and shoulders," you explain, adjusting the weight. "You hold here, pull the bar down, and then release slowly, feeling the resistance."

She looks at the machine as if it were an abstract art piece.

"Looks complicated. Show me how it's done?"

You demonstrate the movement, feeling her eyes on every motion of your body. When you finish, she positions herself, but instead of pulling the bar, she holds it for a second, looking at you with a false expression of confusion. "I think I’m not doing it right. Can you guide me?"

You approach again, this time placing your hands on her arms, helping her execute the movement. "Like this," you say, your voice a little lower. "Pull with your back muscles, not just your arms."

"Since you’ve been working out for a long time, you must be very strong," she comments as she pulls the bar, her muscles tensing softly under your hands. "And you must be used to lifting heavy, right?"

"It depends on the workout," you respond, trying to ignore the fact that every word she says seems to have a double meaning. "But it’s always good to vary, to do a bit of everything."

"So, how many of these should I do?" she asks, as if she’s genuinely interested in the answer, but her eyes say something else.

"Let's do three sets of twelve reps," you reply, trying to keep a professional tone. She does the first set with you close by, watching every movement, and then asks for your help with the next machine.

The dynamic continues until, by the end of the workout, she’s sweating, but in a way that looks more like a healthy glow than discomfort. She stretches, her muscles relaxing, and looks at you with that same smile that started everything. "I think you made me work pretty hard today. Maybe I’ll need a massage afterward," she says, her tone provocative.

You smile, unsure whether to take her seriously or laugh. "Massages aren’t part of the package, but we can talk about a relaxation stretch."

"We’ll see," she says, stepping closer with that smile that always precedes trouble, the kind you should have learned to avoid. “It seems like I’m the only one sweating here,” she says, with a sweetness that’s pure venom, before leaning in and, without warning, licking your cheek.

You take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. "Ms. Irene, what is this?!"

"I told you, you’re not very sweaty. And I licked you to prove it," she responds with the casualness of someone asking the time.

"But what the hell does that mean? I came here to work—"

"And you’ll get paid at the end, of course!" she interrupts, her smile widening in a way that only makes things worse. “I just want… to have a little fun with you. Include that in the deal. You could earn a bonus for it, if you’d like.”

She takes another step forward.

“Irene, you’re married. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”

“No one needs to know, sweetheart,” she whispers, as if it were a secret you truly wanted to hear. “You’re too young to be so worried about life.”

You try to speak, but the words come out jumbled, as if your mouth forgot how to work.

“I-I… This isn’t right.”

She laughs, a sound that makes you feel like a mischievous boy caught in the act. “I bet I’ll make you change your mind once you see what you’re missing.” With a quick, decisive movement, she removes her top, revealing small, pale, perfect, and provocative breasts. Her smile widens, and you feel your face flush with heat. Worse than that—you feel your cock pulse in your pants.

“What do you think?” she asks, each word dripping with irony and certainty.

“Cover yourself, please!” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, but the plea is almost pathetic.

“Oh, don’t play the saint with me,” she retorts, suddenly stepping closer, grabbing your hand with firm resolve and placing it on her breast. The touch is warm and soft. You swallow hard, but it feels like the lump in your throat is stuck there for good. And the worst part? You can’t pull your hand away.

“What do you think? My boobs are small, but they fit perfectly in your mouth,” she teases, her voice lower, more intense.

“This isn’t right, Ms. Irene…” you try, but your resistance is fragile.

“Shh! Just call me Irene,” she orders, and before you can protest again, she seals any chance of escape with a kiss—warm and commanding, as if she already knew you wouldn’t say no.

Before you could even process what was happening, Irene had already wrapped her hand around your cock. With force. With a desire that you felt reverberate down your spine. “You’re so hard for me,” she whispers, her lips pulling away from yours, but the heat of her proximity still clinging to your skin.

“Irene…” you murmur, the name escaping as a whisper, almost a plea, but for what? For her to stop or to keep going?

“That’s right,” she continues, giving you no room to regain control. “I want to hear you moan my name while you fuck me good.”

Before you could refuse—or worse, agree—she pulls you toward a weight bench like she’s practiced the move a thousand times. It’s astonishing how a woman so small, so delicate, can exert such absolute control over you. You feel like a toy in her hands, powerless to resist.

You take off your shirt while she kneels to untie your shoes, making sure every detail is perfect, that you’re comfortable—but not for you, for her. When she asks you to take off the rest, you comply without question, feeling the cool air caress your exposed skin. She compliments your physique, her words sliding over your skin like hot oil. Her hands roam over your muscles, her fingers tracing the contours of your biceps.

“You’re so hot,” she murmurs, kissing your chest, her lips warm and soft. The excitement builds within you, uncontrollable, wild.

You sit back down on the bench, Irene kneels between your legs, her smile a mix of wickedness and pure desire. She takes your cock with a confidence that makes you hold your breath, her touch firm, almost possessive. “Wow… you’re much bigger and thicker than my husband,” she murmurs, licking the tip, teasing, while her eyes remain fixed on yours. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to have something like this… I’m going to love gagging on this cock.”

She slowly opens her mouth, her lips stretching around the head of your cock, and the sensation is mind-blowing. You watch, mesmerized, as she starts to take you in, inch by inch, until her mouth is completely full. “Oh, yes,” she mumbles with difficulty, her words muffled as she struggles to accommodate your size.

She begins to move her head up and down, faster and faster, the wet, warm sound of her mouth creating a steady rhythm. Her small mouth adjusts to your cock, fighting the instinct to pull away, but instead, she pushes forward, making it clear she wants more.

The sight of her, drowning on your cock, is almost unbearably arousing. You can’t resist, your hands go to her hair, pulling to gain more control. With a decisive move, you push deeper into her throat, and the muffled moan she lets out is a mix of pleasure and challenge. “Just like that,” she moans, tears welling in her eyes from pleasure and effort, but with no intention of stopping. She wants this as much as you do.

You feel her throat tightening around your cock, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you as she takes you as deep as she can, not giving up even when her air becomes scarce. The mix of pain and pleasure on her face only fuels your desire further, and you continue, deeper and deeper, until she finally has to stop to breathe, gasping, but with a satisfied, lascivious smile on her face.

Irene stands up, her gaze burning with a desire that mirrors your own. She starts to take off her leggings, revealing she’s not wearing any panties. The sight of her like this, naked and ready, is enough to take your breath away.

Without a second thought, you grab her firmly, your hands holding her slim waist as you lift her off the ground with an ease you didn’t even know you had. Irene lets out a low, sensual moan as she wraps her legs around you, locking her ankles behind your back, pulling the two of you even closer. With a decisive movement, you press her against the nearest wall, the cold concrete contrasting with the growing heat between you.

“Ohhh, yes,” she moans as you penetrate her for the first time, her head falling back, hitting the wall, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You’re so thick!”

With each thrust, Irene responds with louder, more desperate moans. “Just like that, baby… more, please, more!” Her voice is a mix of command and plea, her nails digging into your shoulders, pulling you closer, as if she wants to merge with you.

“That’s it! Oh, God! You fuck me better than my husband!”

That somehow spurs you on, every movement becoming deeper, stronger, as if you’re trying to shove every inch of yourself into her. Irene bites her lip, her face in pure pleasure, and then she starts babbling, as if facial expressions weren’t enough to describe what she’s feeling. “Yes… fuck me… fuck me hard… do what my husband never could…”

But she’s not the only one on the edge. The heat of her body, the almost painful tightness around your cock, every moan and sigh, it all makes you want more, makes you lose control.

After what feels like both an eternity and an instant, you feel like you need more. With a quick move, you pull away from the wall and carry her to the bench. Irene drops to the floor, turns around, positioning herself on all fours while you sit down. She positions herself, slowly lowering onto your cock, moaning as she feels you stretch inside her, filling every inch.

She leans back against you, her head resting on your shoulder, her body sinking even further into your lap. Your hands immediately move to her small breasts, squeezing them, while your lips find her delicate neck, biting and sucking the soft skin. Irene lets out a loud moan, the sound of pure satisfaction, and arches her body, pushing herself even deeper.

“Yes… leave a mark… mark that you were here… that you fucked me like no one ever has,” she pleads, her words breathless, interrupted by moans that only grow louder as you squeeze and thrust into her.

You don’t hesitate, biting harder, leaving a visible mark on her neck, a testament to what’s happening. Irene shudders in response, her pussy tightening even more around you, each of her movements sending waves of pleasure through you, making you forget any shred of morality. She moves against you, her rhythm frantic, the need for more, always more, evident in every gesture.

“Yes… yes, baby… fuck me until I can’t take it anymore,” she moans, her hands reaching back, grabbing your neck, pulling you closer as she continues to move, to lose herself in the sensation.

Irene, breathless, leans in closer, and with a soft voice, almost a whisper, says in your ear, “I want you to fuck my tight ass.”

Her words are like a match striking the box, igniting something fierce within you. Irene rises off your lap and walks to a corner of the gym, where she grabs a bottle of lube. She returns with a mischievous smile, shaking the bottle in the air. “I brought this just for this moment,” she says.

“You had this in mind from the start, didn’t you?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Irene doesn’t bother replying. Instead, she kisses you before lying down on the padded floor, her pale skin contrasting with the dark material, her body exposed in a posture of pure submission, but with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they want. “Come here, you naughty boy,” she calls, her voice like poisoned honey.

You kneel beside her, your hands trembling with desire as you reach for the lube. Irene smiles at you, then gets on all fours and arches her back. With steady movements, you pour the gel into your palm and begin applying it to her ass, feeling the warm, soft skin under your fingers. Irene lets out a low sigh, closing her eyes, savoring the sensation. "That's it... get me ready, I want to feel every inch of your thick cock inside me."

You don’t waste any time. With one hand, you spread the lube around and inside her ass, your fingers gently penetrating to prepare her. Irene bites her lip, her body slightly writhing, a mix of pleasure and anticipation. "Feels good, keep going... make me ready for you."

When you feel she’s sufficiently lubed, you apply the rest to your cock, rubbing it until it’s fully coated, hard and throbbing.

Irene changes position, lying on her back on the floor. You position yourself between her raised legs, and she looks at you with eyes full of desire. "Come on, don't wait any longer," she begs, her voice low and sweet. You press the tip of your cock against her tight entrance, pushing slowly, feeling the initial resistance. Irene lets out a moan of pain mixed with pleasure, and you keep going, advancing inch by inch, feeling the heat and pressure around you.

"Ahhh… yes," Irene moans, her eyes closed, her hands gripping the padding beneath her as you penetrate her slowly. "It's so big… so tight…"

You keep pushing, feeling her ass open up, millimeter by millimeter, her body adjusting to your size. The heat, the pressure, the sensation of filling her completely is indescribable, and the low moan she lets out only fuels your desire. "Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me deeper," she pleads.

You obey, pushing deeper until you're finally all the way inside her. Irene lets out a muffled moan, a sound of pure satisfaction, her body arching with pleasure. "Yes… like that… don’t stop," she begs, her eyes shining with wild desire. You start to move, slowly at first, savoring every second, every contortion of her body, every moan that escapes her lips.

As you gain rhythm, Irene’s moans grow louder, more desperate. "Yes… fuck my ass… do what I never let my husband do… ahhh… harder… please," she moans, every word an encouragement for you to go deeper, to push both of you to the limit.

And you do, increasing your speed and force, your hands gripping her thighs firmly, guiding each thrust with precision, feeling her body tremble with pleasure until it all comes down to heat, sweat, the pure desire consuming you both.

Irene then begins to tremble, her body stiff with imminent pleasure. She looks at you, her eyes burning with lust and urgency. "Mmm, I’m about to cum, babe… Let’s cum together?" she asks, her voice broken by moans.

You feel her body pulsing around you, each contraction almost pushing you over the edge.

"Do you want to come inside my pussy? Fill it with your cum?"

The desire and madness of the moment take over you. “Can I?” you ask, your voice tense, almost disbelieving.

“Of course you can,” she replies with a wicked smile, "I'm on the pill, darling. I want to feel you unload everything inside me."

With that, you both move into the classic missionary position. Irene spreads her legs and bends them, her feet planted on the floor, while you kneel between her thighs, your cock positioned exactly where she wants it. Irene wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth and tightness of her pussy confirm your decision: you need to cum inside her.

You start thrusting into her, each stroke deeper and faster than the last. Irene moans loudly, the sound of her moans echoing through the gym. “Ahhh, yes… more… harder…” she screams, her eyes closed in pure ecstasy. “Fuck my pussy… Make me your cum dump.”

You’re on the verge of exploding, your entire body tense with the anticipation of climax. Irene feels it and, between moans, murmurs, “I’m almost there… I’m going to cum…”

“Me too… I’m almost there…” you reply, your breathing fast.

She opens her eyes, her gaze burning with intensity. “Have you ever cum inside a stranger before, huh? Ever filled a married woman with cum, you pervert?” She asks, her words hitting you like a wave of heat.

Those words make you lose control. With one last, powerful thrust, you bury yourself deep inside her, feeling your cum release into the depths of Irene’s pussy. She screams as she cums at the same time, her body writhing beneath you, her legs tightening around your waist.

“Ahhh… I can feel it all… it’s so warm… so good…” Irene moans, her words loaded with pure pleasure, her breathing ragged as she feels every hot stream filling her. You keep moving, even as the orgasm leaves you breathless, prolonging the pleasure for both of you.

When you finally pull away, your cock slipping out, cum begins to slowly drip from her pussy.

Irene smiles, a satisfied and wicked smile, as she looks at you, her breathing still uneven. "That was… exactly what I wanted," she says, her eyes gleaming with contentment, as the cum drips between her thighs, and you watch, fascinated, as she uses her fingers to spread her lips, letting the cum flow freely. She collects some of the semen with a finger and brings it to her mouth, tasting the result of your mix.

Irene kneels beside you and leans in for a deep kiss, her lips warm and moist against yours, while her hands glide over your body, caressing you with a certain tenderness.

“So, handsome, what did you think of the workout?” she asks.

You, still with your body pulsing with residual pleasure, respond with a smile, “I loved it. It was… incredible.”

Irene smiles back. “Good to hear that,” she says, with a note of amusement, “you can consider yourself my official personal trainer now. And the best part, you’re still getting paid for it. Isn’t it the best job in the world?”

You laugh, a mix of incredulity and amusement, realizing that your concept of ‘job’ will never be the same. “So that’s it? Daily sex with a gorgeous woman and I’m going to get paid for it? What are the downsides?”

“There aren’t any. As long as my husband never finds out, of course. But that’s my problem. Your only requirement and concern is to keep me satisfied.”

With that, she gets up nonchalantly, and starts gathering the clothes scattered on the floor.

You also get up, and as you’re dressing, you can’t help but think about the absurdity of the job you’re accepting.

When you’re almost ready to leave, Irene approaches, casually adjusting her hair.

“Don’t forget, tomorrow is training day again,” she says, her voice full of light arrogance. “Same time. Don’t be late. I want more of that… energy,” she adds with a smile.

You nod, laughing to yourself as you try to regain some of your composure.

“Sure, I’ll mark it on the calendar.”

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