#and i already love his voice and love listening to him talk

[moonstruckme]

Different person— but is it overdoing it if I request a bad car accident but with an established relationship EMT marauders 👀

Yes definitely absolutely but I'll allow it (I did have to try and make it a little different though) <3

cw: scary car wreck aftermath, blood, concussion, angst

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

By the time the ambulance arrives, you’re already in hysterics. They only get worse when you see who steps out. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out on a guttural sob, snot and tears and blood all mixed together on your face. “He was—I distracted him, and—” 

“Shh, shh.” Remus comes to you while Sirius rounds the car. He puts his hands on your jaw. “You’re alright. Don’t move.” 

“I made him look away—” 

“Stop moving, love.” His hands are still, grip firm, eyes moving quickly to scan you over. “I need you to focus.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“What hurts?” 

“But James—” 

“Sweetheart, please. Please.” Remus’ voice scrapes a little, and through your panic you register the wetness of his eyes. He’s terrified. “Sirius is with him, okay? We’re doing all we can, but I need to be sure you’re okay. Please let me do this.” 

Another sob collapses through your ribcage, but you choke out, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Remus takes a breath. His fingers shift slightly on your cheek; perhaps only adjusting his grip, but it feels like a caress. To your right, you can hear Sirius’ voice but not James’. “Focus on me. What hurts?” 

“Um…my shoulder.” You haven’t given it much notice, honestly, all your worry since the crash only for your boyfriend unconscious at the wheel, but when you take a moment to think it’s obvious. Your arm is screaming. “And my head, but less.” 

Remus nods, all business as he uses one set of fingers to feel the back of your neck, moving down your spine. “Any pain here?” 

“No?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Sorry, I’m sure.” 

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart.” He spares you a brief kiss. The stiff upper lip you’d been attempting to form quivers underneath his gentle touch. “Do you feel sick at all?” 

“Yeah,” you admit, though you think that’s more from anxiety than anything else. 

Remus seems to understand. He pulls a pen light from his pocket, clicking it on. “Look here for me.” 

You have every intention of doing as he says, truly, but it’s at that moment that you hear Sirius say thickly, “There he is. Hi, baby.” 

Later, you might think it’s sort of funny—baby. It’s unlike Sirius to call James that, and unlike James to be called it. But perhaps Sirius is only feeling very overwhelmed by tenderness and relief; that, you could certainly understand. 

You turn in your seat, the pain in your left side temporarily vanishing. You only want to see James with his eyes open, but if you have your choice he’ll be awake and talking, normal, totally unhurt, a miracle. “James?” 

“Y/n,” Remus chides, but there’s relief in his voice, too, his gaze looking past you. 

“Sorry, I—Jamie.” Your voice breaks. You’re sobbing again all at once, reaching for your boyfriend as he blinks slowly, his lovely face all pinched in discomfort. “James.” 

You’re arrested from both ends, Remus catching your wrist and Sirius halting you with a stern look. It softens after a moment, that instinctive protectiveness giving way to something gentler. He almost looks sorry.

“Don’t touch him,” he tells you, firm though not unkind. “We can’t move him until we rule out spinal injury. Listen to Remus, angel, let us do our job.” 

You lower your hand, chastened, but are unable to tear your gaze away from James. He looks confused. There’s the smallest bit of blood collected under his nostrils. 

He seems to find words slowly. “Pads?” 

“Hello, gorgeous boy.” Sirius smiles at him, holding his neck and jaw as Remus had done for you. “Funny seeing you here.” 

Remus says your name again. Only when he cups your cheek, manually turning you towards him, do you finally look away. Your boyfriend is watching you with a tender expression. 

“He’s okay.” He thumbs underneath your eye, collecting blood and tears on the latex of his glove. “We’re okay, yeah?” 

“I distracted him,” you whisper, throat tight. “He swerved too late because he was looking at me.” 

“Well,” Sirius, who has evidently overheard, chimes in with a suave tone, “who among us could be faulted for that, eh?” 

A laugh, soft and half broken, stutters out of Remus. “Very true,” he says. “Can you look here for me now, please?” 

You let him go through his tests, which eventually find you well enough to be moved from the car. Your boyfriends work as a pair to get first James and then you onto stretchers. By then another ambulance has arrived and, neither Sirius nor Remus wanting to leave you or James and each seemingly having grown slightly jealous of the other, they swap off; Remus hops into the ambulance with James and another paramedic, and Sirius goes with you. 

You see this as your chance to get some real, unfiltered intel. Sirius can always be relied upon to tell things as they are. 

“Is Remus—are we going to the same place?” you ask as he locks your gurney into place inside the ambulance, knocking on the window to let the paramedic driving know once it’s secure. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course, you thought we’d let you end up in different hospitals?” Sirius turns your head gently with his hand, wiping with something cool above your eyebrow. It stings. “We want you both where we can keep an eye on you.” 

Your fear worsens. “Why?”

Sirius glances at your eyes, his expression softening. He brushes a gloved forefinger over your forehead consolingly. “Not because we think anything bad is going to happen to either of you, sweetness. Just for the same reasons as always; because we like to.”  

“How bad is it, though?” 

“Could certainly be worse,” he says. “You have a relatively mild concussion, and your shoulder—”

“With James,” you clarify quickly. 

“Oh.” Sirius blinks. His brows draw together, not condemning but sympathetic. “His concussion is a bit worse than yours,” he says, as frank as you’d been counting on from him. “He’s in and out, rather confused, but mostly unhurt besides that. Honestly, that first blow to his head might have saved him a lot of damage. Sometimes, when people go limp during a crash, they…hey. Hey, baby.” 

You shut your eyes, powerless to stop the silent sobs that shake your middle. Sirius wipes gently underneath your eyes. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmurs. “We’re fine. We’re all fine.” 

“He’s hurt because I—because he turned—” 

“I heard you before,” Sirius quiets you. “You couldn’t control that, lovely.” 

You can feel your hairline growing damp with tears. Your voice is a scratchy, shamed thing. “I’m just so sorry.” 

“I know.” Your boyfriend presses a piece of gauze to the cut on your forehead, his gaze unflinching. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, though. You really don’t. Anyone can blame themselves, but the truth is you might’ve gotten hit no matter what. There’s no sense in thinking like that.” 

Sirius pauses, looking for understanding in your face. You press your lips together in attempt to stop crying. 

“I need you to focus on getting better,” he says. “Can you do that for me? I can’t hug you properly so long as your shoulder’s dislocated, and I think we could both use a hug right now, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

Sirius offers you a small smile, taping the gauze over your cut. “Good. So you’ve got your job, then, yeah?”

“I’ll try.” 

“You’re going to be so great at it, sweetness. I have absolute faith in you.” 

[cinnamongrl2006]

♱ Knight!Simon Riley x Princess!reader ♱

a/n: I love knight x princess stories, maybe because I want a strong capable man to take care of me, oh well, who knows. Also, I can't write accents phonetically for the life of me, so take what I give you plspls!!

warnings: fem reader, pure fluff, sfw

────୨ৎ────

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who fell in love with you the second he stepped foot in the castle. He was assigned to watch and take care of you, the princess, before a worthy suitor whisked you away to another land, where you were to rule as queen.

That was the plan your family, your kingdom had set out for you, that was the future that awaited you. That was the future you wanted, or so you thought until you met him, your knight. The townspeople and the people of the court called him Ghost, they worshipped him almost as if he was a legend, they feared him.

He was tall, big all over. He'd expected you to be somewhat reluctant at his sudden proximity, scared of him, repulsed at his appearance— at his grotesque appearance, he thought, big gloved hands gripping the sword in his belt, face covered by his dark helmet. He expected you to treat him like all royals treated the service, like a lap dog, like an appendage, a simple accessory.

But you didn't. You looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, spoke to him as an equal, regarded him with wide eyes. You sat by the training yard when he'd practice swordfighting, a hand over your eyes to shield yourself from the sun, and you'd clap and cheer him on.

A week later he told you his real name, Simon. "But you can call me Si, love." He said it softly, walking you to the drawing room with a hand on the small of your back. His fingers tightened against the fabric of your dress when you repeated his name softly, to remember it better you'd said.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who started to get closer to you, to trust you, quicker than he usually did. He thought maybe it was because of the way you smiled at him when you caught him staring, or the way you laughed at his totally unfunny jokes like they were comedy gold.

At night, after he walked you to your quarters he'd go and stand under your window, because you always wanted to keep talking to him past your bedtime. You thought it was a shame it was dark outside when he had his helmet off, his voice was so deep, and his hands so big, his touch so warm— he had to be handsome.

He'd read to you, perched against a tree trunk, looking up at the balcony where he could make out the outline of your frame. He'd stay there with you until you started to yawn, and the sky turned orange, right before the birds sang. And then he'd walk back to his quarters and get as much sleep as he could before he had to be at your door again, picking you up after you got dressed, steering you to the dining room with a hand on the small of your back.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who, after weeks of dismissing your pleas, takes off his helmet in front of you. He doesn't like taking it off when he's at work, doesn't like being Simon when he's in the suit and armor, but for you he's already made an exception. He's surprised when you pull him down for a kiss behind a tree. You're taking a walk on the far side of the gardens, where the trees are tall and the foliage thick, and the sun doesn't get in your eyes.

After that day it became a common occurrence; you'd pull on his arm and steer him outside of the throne room. Tell your mother you were going for a walk, you'd be back before dinner, and you'd spend the entire afternoon tangled together under a weeping willow.

♱ Knight!Simon Riley who told you he loved you one of those afternoons. Your head rested on his chest— armor discarded a while ago, his undershirt billowed in the wind— listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart and the rumbling anytime he spoke.

You had been telling him about a painting class you'd taken that day, his hums and caresses lulling you to sleep. It was the perfect occasion for him to say it, he couldn't hold it in any longer but he feared scaring you away if he said it out loud, the reality of your situation weighed heavy in his heart.

So he leaned his head down and kissed the top of your head, and with his lips pressed against your hair he said it.

"Love you s' much, sweetheart."

For a second he thought you really were asleep, and his words, his adoration for you, would stay a secret that only the trees that grew among you would know. But he felt you stir in his embrace, felt your hands snake around his neck, your lips find his jaw.

"Love you too, Simon."

────୨ৎ────

@cupidsworstcrime convinced me to write this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Requests are open!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[chrrific]

ANGEL, BABY ♡ things down bad bf ! enha do 。

𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗨𝗥─── ‘𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂’𝗆 𝖺𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋.

( 𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐀𝐍𝐈 ) ﹙엔하이픈﹚ bf ! enhypen x f ! r 739wc fluff headcannon 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 physical touch est. relationship forehead kisses

✉️ so .. hai >< update for two days straight, that’s such a big thing TT writers block finally not kicking my ahh so expect a lot more heheh :3

reblogs✿feedbacks for a flower ( >//< )

LEE HEESEUNG

hand in hand, heeseung and you walked down the sidewalk, the setting hues of the sun casting a glow on your faces. the silence was sweet, comfortable, filled with unspoken sentences that you already knew the words to without a question. 

his hand then slipped out of your grasp, and you had no time to be confused before he stopped walking to brush his fingers against your cheek oh, so delicately. he gave you a barely-there smile, just enough to show the love in his eyes. “there was something there,” he murmured, sliding his hand back into yours. 

PARK JONGSEONG

“you did not,” jay’s tone was filled with surprised accusation, his jaw dropping open. in his hands was a wrapped up guitar, the one he’d been saving up fro buy for such a long time—only to find it on his side of your bed earlier. 

a soft giggle escaped your lips as you stood up from the couch, smile gracing them. “i did,” you murmured, leaning closer to you your still in-shock boyfriend. “i’d do anything if it was for you.” jay felt his gaze soften at your words, lips pressing a gentle, feather-light kiss to your forehead. “i love you, so much.” 

SIM JAEYUN

the end credits of the movie rolled onto the tv screen, casting a faint light to cast over your sleeping face and closed eyes. you had fallen asleep somewhere into the movie—jake just couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.

his hands ached to touch you, to feel the soft expanse of the hair that lay in billows around your face, as you lay safe against his chest. so, that is what he did. his fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down the soft strands with a touch one could only describe as reverent, his eyes holding all the affection and love for you in the world.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon never took it upon himself to profess his love with a marching band and fireworks display, but he found the biggest worth worth in the smaller things: making you a snack he knows you like, holding the door open for you before he goes in himself, giving you his coat when you’re cold, even though he knows he might get sick because of it. 

his most favourite thing to do though, is sing you to sleep. the soft hum of the ceiling fan, paired with his quiet voice—it makes you feel calm, like you’re finally at home. he feels at peace doing it, watching how sleep takes over your body and all the stress he knows you carry dissipates, if only just for the night.

KIM SUNOO

sunoo, as much as he loves talking your ear off with all the new drama, loves hearing you ramble just a bit more. the way you scrunch your nose, hands changing from position to position just to prove your point, the way your lips move as you talk—oh, your lips. 

he’s so torn between paying attention to your words and staring at their soft, pink plumpness, but ends up choosing to flick his gaze down towards them every few seconds, which, after a few minutes, makes you ask him whether he’s even listening with a huff. 

YANG JUNGWON

whenever you’re moving through a crowded place, or just anywhere in general, jungwon made it a point to always have an arm slung around your waist. even lazing at home, he couldn’t help but wrap an arms around your middle and pull you close.

“c’mere, pretty,” jungwon smirked slightly, and you grinned back, letting out a soft hum of content as you leaned into his touch, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip soothing you to in ways you didn’t know it could. 

NISHIMURA RIKI

a yelp left your throat as you were—literally—swept off your feet by niki, his arms holding you secure as he hung you over his shoulder to bring you back to bed. “niki!” you exclaimed, weakly flailing your legs in his strong hold, although you knew that wouldn’t deter him from dragging you back inside to cuddle.

“what the hell was that for?” your pout was practically audible as he gently placed you on the mattress, and his next words suspiciously casual. “just wanted you to come back to bed,” 

a beat passed. a raised eyebrow. a face inching closer to his, teasing smirk tugging at your lips, just enough to make him crack. “fine, i missed you..” he murmured, refusing to meet your gaze as he looked away, though you could still spot the visible flush decorating his cheeks and ears. “you’re just so warm, and small and easy to hold, okay?”

[jjjjisun]

Rebellious Jiheon

fromis_9 Jiheon X Male OC | 16192 words

TW: Incest

—

Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Book commissions here.

—

Author's note: Late tribute for our cute and sexy maknae <3

—

"Why did they even bother calling me?" Jae's wife asked. She was obviously annoyed, and after a long day, he wasn't interested in listening to her sharp tone.

"You work there, couldn't they have just said something to you tomorrow?"

She wasn't really talking to him. Most of their conversations went that way nowadays, it seemed. He hadn't been paying too much attention, but what he had overheard of his wife's conversation on the phone hinted that Jiheon had been causing trouble at school again.

"I don't have time for this, Jae. Can you handle it, please?" his wife asked dismissively.

"Sure, though I don't really know what the problem is," Jae agreed as he flipped through a few channels on the TV.

"Her English teacher said Jiheon has been distracting other students in class, AND dressing inappropriately. That little brat, I'll tell you…"

Jae stopped listening. He grew tired of hearing his wife rag on her; Jiheon was an amazing daughter in his eyes. As she droned on, he couldn't help wondering if the "dressing inappropriately and "distracting other students" complaints were related.

The claim wasn't entirely unfounded, that was for sure. Jiheon had undoubtedly been pushing the envelope with her outfits of late. Only a week before, Jae had to send her back in the house when she came out for a ride to school with her belly showing beneath a snug cotton polo shirt.

"Come on Jiheon, you are not excused from the dress code because your dad works at your school. What would your mother say?"

Jiheon put on a smug look and repeated, in a voice eerily similar to his wife's, "You get back in the house immediately young lady, my daughter will not be dressing like a stripper on my watch."

Jiheon flashed a smile when she saw her dad laughing at her impression. She closed the door and skipped back inside. Jae watched her go back toward the house, finding himself more intrigued than he meant to be by the few inches of skin above her skirt in the back, which was rolled a few times at the waist to reveal more of her long, white legs. She looked incredible.

When Jiheon had come back out she was carrying her change of clothes.

"Sorry dad, I don't want to be late so I'll have to change in the car."

He'd tried his best to keep his eyes on the road, but when Jiheon pulled her shirt over her head and revealed her youthful body he had trouble remembering he was driving at all. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders and brushed the skin around the thin white straps of her push-up bra. Her breasts jiggled as he hit a speedbump, teasing her father even more. Jae was grateful when she finally pulled a new shirt over her head and covered up once more - he wasn't sure how much he could take of looking at her without reacting.

So Jae knew firsthand that the call to his wife probably wasn't a mistake. Since she'd recently turned eighteen, Jiheon had just gotten decidedly more rebellious (than she already was). He assumed she would grow out of it. He hoped she would, anyway, he didn't want to have to discipline her at home and at work.

Jae had been working at the high school for almost ten years as athletic director and taught a few history classes as well. High school kids could be angsty sometimes, but he really liked his job, and it meant seeing more of his daughter, which was always nice.

The following Monday at school, Jae still hadn't told his daughter about the phone call her mother had received. He didn't like scolding her, and she had been so sweet to him that morning, thanking him for the ride to school and kissing him unabashedly before taking off to meet up with her friends before class.

His daughter wasn't quite the same girl he used to take to gymnastics and out for ice cream after, although now it was cheerleading and she still loved ice cream. She'd given up the leotard for a cheer uniform, which he'd seen her dancing around in at most school events… He thought better of imagining her in it when he could avoid doing so.

Her hair was thick and dark, more so than both of her parents, and she usually let it fall down to her shoulders. It framed the cutest face he'd ever seen, with big brown eyes, perfect cheekbones and puffy pink lips. She had the slightest overbite that showed off her pretty smile when she bit her lower lip as she often did when nervous.

Needless to say, Jiheon had the beautiful body of an eighteen-year-old that exercised often. Her breasts were bigger than her mother's - a fact that, though unmentioned, clearly made her mother jealous. Her hips were just right too, with a cute little butt that you could get a nice handful of. At 5'-5" she was quite a bit shorter than him and, but she was just the right size. She'd playfully jumped into his arms the other day after school, she couldn't have weighed even 100 lbs.

By the time he reached his office, Jae had only just realized he'd been daydreaming of his little girl the entire time. He wondered how he'd have the conversation with Jiheon about the effect she had on her classmates without falling victim to her himself.

Jae had a lot of work to catch up on that Monday morning. He was glad of it, for he'd ceased worrying about Jiheon long before lunch. And yet, it seemed he could not escape her naughtiness for even half a day.

"Hey Jae, do you have a minute?" Said his friend Jinwoo, another history professor, as he was heading down the hall to the teacher's lounge for lunch.

"Uh oh," he said "This doesn't sound good, you mind walking? Jinwoo matched strides with his friend Jae.

"So, I hate to have to do this to you Jae, but I think you should have a talk with your daughter,"

"Oh God," Jae responded, "what now?"

Jinwoo chuckled, "Nothing too serious buddy,! I'll spare you the details, but… basically, your daughter Jiheon has been the subject of a lot of chatter lately and I thought you ought to know."

"Oh yea, and what kind of 'chatter' is that?" He asked in a frustrated tone.

"Mostly just teenage boy type of stuff, I have a group of boys that come in from their free period early every day so I overhear some of their nonsense." Jae was only somewhat relieved. "Mostly to do with 'how smokin she looks in her gym uniform when she doesn't wear a bra,' or 'how great her ass looked when she bent over.' " He had put on a mocking, punk-teenager voice to lighten the mood but Jae still didn't like hearing about his little girl that way.

"Look, I'm sure no dad wants to hear this, but I think you know what I'm talking about right?"

Jae let out a sigh, "yeah thanks Jinwoo, I'm glad you had the balls to say something."

"Don't mention it," his friend assured him, "… and one more thing, I had her in class earlier this morning… annnnd I don't think she's wearing any… you know…"

"Yea yea yea," Jae raised his hand and stopped him; he didn't want to hear any more. "I'll talk to her today."

Jae's head was spinning a little, and he tried to eat his lunch and small-talk with his colleagues without revealing his frazzled state. Jinwoo patted him on the back as he headed out and Jae had to remind himself it wasn't Jinwoo's fault. He just had a hard time coping with the fact that anyone else had seen his little girl that way. Jiheon was usually such a good girl. She got good grades, did well on the cheer team and (usually) followed the rules at home - what had gotten into her?

The rest of the day drolled on without incident. Mostly, Jae passed the time in between his two afternoon classes rehearsing what he would say to Jiheon about her behavior. He looked for her in the hallway, thinking he might confront her about neglecting to wear underwear but he never got the chance.

When next he saw her, Jiheon was skipping toward his car around 4:30 right after her cheer leading practice got out. He almost wished to see her in the outfit as usual; she always looked incredible in the tight fabric. Instead she was wearing the same gray v-neck sweater and classic schoolgirl skirt - rolled over a few times so she could show off way too much leg for her father's approval. He would mention that to her during their talk, he committed to memory.

He had almost forgotten what his friend Jinwoo had told him about Jiheon earlier that day… almost. That was until she opened the back door and reached way inside to set her bag down over her father's briefcase. Her skirt, short as it was, did nothing to hide his daughter's delicate pink pussy.

Between Jiheon's plump cheeks and exposed thighs she was completely bare and smooth. His eyes were frozen on it; Jiheon's womanhood was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. What he would have given as a boy her age to have gotten his hands and more on her… it was unfathomable. Jiheon was truly perfect from the outside in.

Jae had to tear his eyes from her tiny opening; he was already distracted when he should have been scolding her.

"Jiheon!" he yelled at her; she popped up from her bent over position and looked at him worriedly. "You're not wearing any…" he leaned in whispering, "underwear."

"Oh right… I umm… forgot." Jiheon lied; her dad could see right through her.

Jae told her to get in the car and then walked angrily around the car while glancing over at Jiheon and the feigned look of ignorance on her face. When she sat down in the car he watched her smooth the short skirt over her white thighs. Somehow, knowing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath as she sat there next to him was intriguing… exciting even

And yet the school boys, probably some of the punks he had in his classes, had seen her in the way he just had. Even his friend, her teacher and an older man, had seen Jiheon's young pussy and could have been as turned on as he'd been. Jae didn't want anyone but him to see her like that, because he was likely the only one who could resist her.

"Jiheon, we need to talk." Jae said quite seriously. Jiheon hunched her shoulders as if to retreat.

"Can you guess what I'm going to say?" He asked her.

"Yes dad," Jiheon replied with attitude, "that I have to wear panties to school?"

"Well yes, definitely that. What were you thinking anyway honey? How many boys at school do you think saw your…" naming his daughters pussy to her made it too real. "I did within ten seconds."

Jiheon's face quickly revealed a smile. "You think that's something to smile about?" Jae snapped. Why would she be smiling about her own father seeing her so intimately?

Why would she be smiling in their current situation? Jae waited for the answer, but still she was trying to hide a smirk. Had she done it intentionally? Did she want her father to see?

"No daddy…" she hesitated. Jiheon was stalling

"What then?"

"I'm just wondering…" still she paused.

"Jiheon, spit it out!" her father commanded.

"…if you thought it was pretty?"

Her father was stunned, he truly had not expected anything like that from his daughter. Mostly he had assumed she would be completely grossed out that her father looked at all, much less how long he'd stared.

"Wh…what did you say Jiheon?" Where before he had been stern and confident, now his voice was more unsteady.

"It's just that one of my friends said my pussy looked different and I didn't think so but I don't know so I…" she was rambling as she sometimes did when she was nervous, "I was just wondering if you if you liked it daddy, or was it different like my friend said?"

"That's not something I can answer Jiheon, you're not my little girl anymore. You're a grown woman."

"You can't just tell me daddy? You must think it isn't pretty if you won't just say so!" Jiheon pouted. Jae couldn't tell I'd she was playing at something or not.

"Jiheon that's not the point," her father replied. He'd certainly gotten a good look and found her tight little entry to look incredible, but he wasn't about to tell his daughter that. "The point is that you can't be going to school bottomless! Jinwoo brought it to my attention and who knows who else saw."

Jiheon looked positively defeated; with a tail between her legs, purse-lipped look and sad eyes. Still he couldn't let up, Jae had to be firm with her.

"What has gotten into you lately Jiheon? I mean you know better than that. You should be glad its me telling you and not your mother."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Jae couldn't quite hear it, but he thought she was talking back to him.

"What did you say?" he asked angrily.

"I said I'm sorry Dad!" with a tear rolling down her cheek. Jae realized he'd been wrong. Jiheon turned to the window and took a quick breath.

"Oh come on Jiheon there's no need to cry." He leaned in to look at her face. A few tears had streamed down; he hadn't meant to make his little girl cry. "If it makes you feel better, you look just right… down there… just the way a beautiful girl like you is supposed to."

Jiheon stopped her hastened breathing and was visibly relieved. She stopped crying, at least there was that. It took a few moments of attempting smalltalk and a joke or two but eventually Jae broke through to his daughter, and by the end of the ride he was feeling much better about their talk.

Every so often, however, he would glance over upon the sight of her skirt riding higher on her enticing thighs. Normally the sight of his daughter's fit little body didn't phase him, but somehow, somewhere in his head he didn't want to acknowledge… knowing she was bare, shaven and with only the fabric of her skirt to block his probing eyes, he was undone.

"But seriously honey, from now on, underwear, please?" Jae said as they pulled in the driveway.

"Yeeess Daaadd." She drew out.

Jiheon's sexiness prevailed as he watched her get out of the car, part of him wondering if he might catch a glimpse of her cute butt or her tight little pussy. Instead, as Jiheon bent over to reach for her bag, this time she held her hand between her legs and fingers trapping her skirt beneath. When she turned, she found her father behind her and knew he'd been watching her. She flashed him her cutest smile and touched his arm as she pranced by. There was something mischievous about it, and though he'd truly hoped to be rid of Jiheon's antics, somehow he doubted it.

And so the next day, as he sat at his desk grading papers, he knew what the authoritative knock was about before he stood up to open the door. But this time, it wasn't his friend, it was the school principal with Jiheon in tow. This time, Jiheon hadn't been merely dressed inappropriately but had been found in the janitor's closet with a classmate's hand up her shirt.

He looked at her, standing there looking as blameless as she possibly could. Her shirt was still disheveled looking, he could see a bit of her smooth stomach peeking out at him. Her skirt was no less revealing than the day before. For a split second he wondered if, like yesterday, were he to lift up her skirt a few inches he would find her bare and bottomless again.

All the while the principal droned on. He had never liked Principal Kim that much, and as he stood there now, being agreeable as the man chastised his daughter he wasn't gaining any respect for him.

"…Now I've brought her to you directly because I want to put an end to this before it gets any more serious or embarrassing."

"Thank you Mr. Principal," Jae offered, "I assure you I will deal with Jiheon severely.

As Principal Kim explained that he'd be giving her a Saturday detention and that he could do a lot more, Jae once again nodded and spoke when he thought the man wanted to hear anything but his own voice. Mostly, he stared at his young daughter and held her gaze whenever she would look up from her feet.

He refused to utter a word on the whole car ride home, he found that it always got to Jiheon more than any of his other tactics. She tried to get him to say something once or twice but the cold glare, unflinchingly forward, told her to keep her mouth shut. The one thing she was grateful of was that her mother wouldn't be home to add to the punishment.

When they walked through the door, Jae grabbed his daughter's arm firmly. Jiheon yelped in response as he dragged her over to the couch in their living room. He nearly tossed her to a seat on the couch, and Jiheon knew how serious he was. He wanted to, badly, but decided against raising his voice. Instead, he said as calmly as he could.

"Jiheon, I just don't know what to say. We talked about this… we agreed… and now this!"

She was silent.

"I mean what am I missing?? Do you want me to lose my job?"

"Dad…I…" Jiheon didn't finish her sentence.

"Oh now you aren't so brave like you were before huh? One minute you're a bad girl, fooling around in the closet with some boy, and now you have nothing to say." He could see Jiheon starting to tear up again and Jae felt the same way he had the day before. 'Not again,' he thought.

"I just…" she was still fumbling around for words.

"I just what?!" He demanded of her.

"I can't help myself daddy!" she said.

"What is that supposed to mean," Jae shot back.

"I mean I start feeling a certain way and then I can't help myself."

Jae truly couldn't understand what she was trying to get at - was this was an angle she was playing or she was somehow telling the truth?

"I get horny Dad, I get hot and bothered and then I start doing things I know I shouldn't. It keeps happening and I don't mean for it to."

"I don't believe you Jiheon, and you better watch your words closely or I am going to really be angry. I won't have my daughter talking that way."

"I'm not lying Daddy I swear." She was really laying it on thick now, or was she? The tears in her eyes said differently. "It's like I already feel that way in the car before I even get to school. I don't know what to do daddy I keep doing things without thinking and I just…"

Jae was feeling bad for her, if only slightly. If she was telling the truth it meant his daughter was having urges, like those he'd had toward Jiheon when she'd bent over and he'd seen her naked lower half right in front of him. Only Jiheon was obviously unequipped to deal with them.

"You expect me to believe all this Jiheon," Jae said with a look of astonishment. "and even if I did how do you expect for me to deal with what happened today?"

His little girl responded feebly, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, I know I was bad… but I'm not lying!" Jae wondered if she could really live up to her promise.

"Even if what you're saying is all true… It is still your responsibility to control yourself Jiheon. You are not a child anymore honey."

"Maybe…" She was unsteady in her words, "maybe you could help me?"

He thought about what she'd said for a minute, and knew that he wouldn't be too harsh on her in the end. Jae decided to skip some tongue lashing and a whole lot of back and forth arguing between he and his unruly teen. She'd asked him for help, though he wasn't sure of what kind.

Jiheon was finally looking at him more than down her fidgeting feet. For the past few minutes since she'd kicked off her shoes she had been wiggling her toes in the carpet and staring downward. Now she was looking remorsefully at Jae with her pretty brown eyes. She never thought that she'd end up here, involving and disappointing her father. So when he responded to her much more lovingly than she'd expected, she listened closely.

"Here is what I'm going to do…" Jae said assertively. Jiheon listened, wide-eyed.

"Jiheon I have got to ground you, I won't have any argument." He put his hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples as he said, "And not a word to your mother about this, I'd be in as much trouble as you if she found out.." Jiheon knew she had lucked out, though her father wasn't done.

"You are definitely not going to that concert this weekend."

"Uhh," Jiheon let out involuntarily, her mouth was open in frustration.

"Oh you better believe it. If your mother asks you'll tell her it is because of the call she took last week about your clothing."

Jiheon nodded.

"And that last thing, about your… feelings." Jiheon's eyes widened. "Maybe you ought to think about, you know…" he was speaking quieter now, "taking care of yourself before school…"

Jiheon blushed and looked bashfully away with a smile.

"…And if you get any more feelings like that, come to my office right away and we'll figure out a way to take care of you."

Jae definitely didn't miss the grin that formed momentarily on Jiheon's face just after his last words to her. He hadn't meant it that way, but looking at her in her adorable outfit and innocent posture, the smile provoked an inappropriate fantasy of working through Jiheon's arousal in the privacy of his office. He decided to let it go.

"Okay daddy, I promise." Jiheon shrugged. He actually believed her; she sounded sincere.

They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, searching for something in the other's eyes.

"Now go to your room, I'm still mad about all this, and your grounding starts now."

Jiheon scampered off to her room, but not before catching her father off guard with a hug. Her father watched the petite little teenager strut away. Her tight clothing did wonders to show off her slender frame, everything held snugly in place even as she bounced up the stairs. And indeed, after her pert butt came into view he could see a pair of black panties that were far too small in his opinion, for school anyway. At least she was wearing them.

Visions of the cute brunette danced through his head as he brooded over the last two days throughout the evening. His wife was actually happy with him for once when she found out that Jae had grounded their daughter indefinitely.

The next morning, Jiheon smiled and touched him on the shoulder when she came down for a bowl of cereal as he drank his morning coffee. Her face looked flushed and she smiled naughtily at him when they locked eyes. Jae was utterly distracted from the newspaper by the thought that Jiheon had been touching her little pussy only a few moments before, and the boy shorts and night shirt she was walking around the kitchen in certainly didn't help. He could make out entirely too much the shape of her young breast when she reached for a box of cereal; her nipple protrudely enticingly though the thin fabric.

Despite all her teasing, there was no trouble the next day… or the next… or the next. There was no stopping the occasional daydream about her cute bottom or wonderful breasts, but at least he didn't have to hear about Jiheon's misdeeds and imagine her being felt up by a boy in the closet. Jae was happy to be rid of Jiheon's rebellion, and his troublesome thoughts about her were less frequent without the daily conflict.

Unfortunately, his efforts were overturned as he went to hurry Jiheon along one morning when she was taking too long to get ready for school. As he reached her door and heard the soft panting from behind it, he knew Jiheon was taking his advice. Though he'd raised his hand he did not knock. He merely listened as her adorable cooing continued.

"Uh, uh, uuuuuhhh…" Jiheon sounded; she must have been close by the sound of it.

Sure enough, after a few more seconds… or perhaps it was longer… he heard his beautiful daughter moaning more loudly. She tried to use a pillow to stifle her, which would have worked if her father wasn't standing just outside the door. Jae stood there, transfixed… he'd just listened to his little girl finger perfect cute button, cumming a few feet away from him - and at his own recommendation.

When the door opened in front of him, he wasn't prepared for it. Jiheon didn't know what to say either, so she stood still. She was close to him and though she didn't mean to, she glanced briefly down at his pants. Quickly her eyes found her fathers and she tried to pretend she hadn't seen his bulge. The only sound between them was heavy breathing on both their parts before her father spoke.

"Honey , I… I was just coming to make sure you were awake." Her father told her.

"Oh… okay daddy… I'll hurry and get ready."

They locked eyes again before she made her way to the shower, wearing nothing more than a bra and pair of panties, more fuel for her father's imagination.

They were awkward around each other on the ride to school. Jiheon was confused about what was happening between her and her dad. She knew she should have been dismayed by her father listening in on her, but she wasn't in the slightest. In fact, she had a familiar feeling that caused her to fidget in her first few classes.

And her father was understandably preoccupied with thoughts of Jiheon while he got through his morning. He had set out to stop Jiheon misbehaving in school and found himself wanting to serve up his own kind of detention to his daughter. Such were the prevailing thoughts as Jiheon stepped swiftly into his office and shut the door behind her.

"What is it baby?" he questioned her as Jiheon leaned heavily against the door. Despite the morning's activities she was now more aroused than any day she could remember.

"Dad… I had to come in here…" she looked worried, "I was starting to feel that way again and I did what you told me to do and came right to you."

"Sit down honey," Jae told her, "let's try and distract you."

And try as he did to distract his daughter from her predicament, she was still visibly aroused after over five minutes of talking.

"Do you think I could… do it here daddy?"

"Do what Jiheon… wait you mean… no… not here…" He couldn't fathom allowing Jiheon to finger herself in his own office, and where was he to go while she did?

"But daddy… I promise I'll be quiet, you won't even know I'm here." Once again with the puppy dog look in her eyes Jae's resolve was quickly shaken.

"I don't know Jiheon…"

"It's okay dad, if you just grade your papers I'll be so quiet."

Jae didn't know why, but he kept quiet and glanced down at his desk. While he shuffled papers he could hear his daughter adjust herself in his chair. At first she was quiet, and he even attempted to resist looking in her direction, using his computer screen to conceal the view. But when he heard Jiheon panting his eyes were drawn in her direction.

She was sprawled across his chair, head thrown back and hand down between her legs. She looked so beautiful, and her breathing was causing a stirring in his pants. She wasn't being quite as quiet as she promised, but he was anything but upset with her. Jiheon was the embodiment of youth and sexuality as she nudged herself closer to orgasm.

She had pushed her tight pants and panties both down her legs so her naked bottom was visible to him. If he were a younger man, one of her classmates perhaps, he would have liked to join her. He would have grabbed at the painted-on pair of khaki pants and tugged them over her skinny ankles. He would have turned her sharply toward him, so her hips hung just over the edge of the chair before he…

Jae was staring at his daughter, and it was too late before she noticed. He watched her abdomen begin to convulse, tightening rhythmically as she eagerly fingered her soft mound. She was nearing her climax, and when she noticed her father watching her it was upon her before she knew it. She looked right into his eyes and searched them, knowing he shouldn't be watching her but not wanting him to stop.

What she felt next was wonderful. As Jiheon came, her eyes flitted down and back up to her father's. For the second time that day, she came and her own daddy was on her mind. This time, however, he wasn't standing outside her door but sitting right in front of her. Where before he had been listening to her he was now watching, and she knew how much he liked it. As the sweet wave of sensation washed over and through her, she felt her love for her father evolve further.

"Oh my God," Jiheon whispered.

'Oh my God,' her father thought.

As Jiheon calmed down from her heightened state she tried to slow her breathing. Her father pretended to do something with the papers on his desk but she knew she had distracted him beyond belief. She almost felt bad for him, wondering if he was hard under his desk after watching her touch herself not five feet away. Jiheon spoke first,

"Thanks dad, I needed that."

"You're welcome baby… but I don't think you should plan on doing that in here anymore."

"Why not daddy?" Jiheon asked sweetly.

"Because Jiheon, we're in my office… at your school… and I shouldn't be watching y…" He stammered, not meaning to admit it, "I mean letting you touch yourself here." Jae replied, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself.

"But Dad…" Jiheon was trying to be cute again, "are you sure it's because we're at school, or is it something else?"

Jae didn't really have an answer for the question, though he was certain he knew what his cheeky young daughter was getting at. So Jiheon flipped her hair back over her shoulder, slid out of the chair and grabbed the waistband of her pants at her ankles.

Once again her father was dazed; the sexy brunette had turned away from him and bent at the waist. As she reached down her beautiful legs flexed, her butt looked cute and plump, and best of all her tiny flower and its pink petals peered back at him above a visible gap between her upper thighs. It glistened wonderfully, betraying that what she'd done during school much less in front of her own father.

Having just seen Jiheon pant and shiver herself into orgasm, he wanted nothing more than to walk up behind her and push into her tight opening with his solid tip. And all too soon she was easing her tight waistband up and over her backside, shimmying to get it over her hips. Jae let out the breath of air he'd been holding as his momentary daydream evaporated.

"I'll see you after school daddy." Jiheon said cutely as she walked to the door. Her father intended to stand and escort her to the door. Glancing down as he placed his palms on the desk, he knew if he stood he show how he truly felt about wanting his little girl.

The bell rang. Lunch period was over. Jiheon felt disappointed she'd been cheated out of seeing her father's erection tenting his pants, as the bell gave him an excuse to sit back down. She wanted to see it, and how could she be blamed? Jiheon couldn't help that she'd been thinking of him as he sat and watched her slide her finger back and forth over her clit. It was his name on the tip of her tongue as she shook through the warm rush of pleasure.

So, it was her daddy on her mind as she sat through her afternoon classes. Math was her least favorite subject, but as she debated whether or not to continue her teasing of her father and how far it might go, the bell rang before she'd even checked the clock. And as she sat through the last class of the day, Jiheon knew her answer.

Things were happening kind of fast for Jae and Jiheon both. One minute Jae was feeling protective about his innocent teenager on display at school. The next he was staring at his daughter's midsection or her full, soft cleavage while she was sprawled bottomless on his office chair. He had never looked at her breasts with such desire before; he imagined they would look great in any position… probably pert, with gravity defying youth if she was on top of him.

They talked as usual on the way home. Jiheon had no skirt to push up high on her thigh, and she'd already unbuttoned her blouse far enough that her dad could see her white push-up bra squeezing her tits together.

There was a different attitude toward each other influencing every word and glance. Suddenly Jae wasn't just chatting with his daughter, he was flirting with her. Jiheon's smiles had him asking prying questions and joking around to keep hearing her adorable laugh.

Jiheon's mother was home when they got back and it spoiled all the fun. Jiheon wanted to be near to him, near enough to feel her daddy's warmth and intimidating presence. She had to settle for the occasional sideways grin at him at the dinner table or later a few words in the family room with her mother nearby. The only vision Jae was treated to of his young brunette was that of Jiheon's subtle curves cloaked in one of his own t-shirts. Her breasts stood out proudly in the light of her bedside lamp, but only momentarily for she closed the door and was hidden from his view.

Things had changed so quickly over the last few days. Keeping Jae up that night was the thought of his daughter's hand between her legs in his office, the tantalizing view of her breasts beneath an unbuttoned blouse, and the tortuous thought that Jiheon might be wearing nothing but his old t-shirt but a room away. Jae never had trouble sleeping, even when stress at work had him wound up all day, but this was different. His wandering mind conjured images of his baby, bare and beautiful, in all the ways he wanted her. If he went into her room right now, after all that had happened, would she want him too?

In turn, Jiheon lay awake in her own bed, wishing she could have pushed things a bit further with her daddy. She saw him looking at her with desire before he told her to change before school, and every moment up to then she'd gotten more daring. Jiheon came again that night, and with her fingers inside her pussy she pretended it was her father instead. If she could only show him that she was all grown up and that if he wanted to he could do more than watch…

Jiheon's dreams were naughty that night, and she awoke feeling more aroused than ever. She'd thought her father's hand shaking her awake was part of the fantasy she'd been right in the middle of. They were both naked in her bedroom. She was lying on her back, and her daddy was hovering over her. Below… his pelvis was moving up and down and it felt incredible with her daddy's big, throbbing…

"Jiheon wake up!"

Something was stirring her from her dream. She didn't want to let go of the feeling of…

"Honey come on, it's time to wake up!" Jae said again as he shook his daughter.

Jiheon groaned and she couldn't stay asleep anymore.

"Mmmm… good morning daddy."

Jiheon pushed her arms up and over her head to stretch. As she did so her back arched and pushed her breasts through her dad's t-shirt. Jae wanted so badly to reach out and feel them, warm and supple against his hand.

"You don't want to be late for school baby." Jae told her.

"… what time is it dad?"

"It's almost 7:15, I'm guessing you haven't… taken care of yourself this morning have you?"

her father asked hesitantly.

"No daddy but I really need to, I had some dreams last night." Jiheon said sweetly, her eyes looking so pretty that morning.

"Well you better hurry honey, you don't have all morning."

Jae stood up to go, using every bit of his will not to stay. Jiheon was his little girl, and he owed it to her not to be weakened by her beauty - that wasn't her fault. But Jiheon didn't want him to go; she reached out her hand and took hold of his arm. Jae turned around, wide-eyed.

"Maybe you could stay dad…"

"What…?" Jae asked, she couldn't have said what he thought she did.

"It would be faster if you were with me… if you helped."

Jae was silent, for the upteenth time that week Jiheon had him at a loss for words. And then Jiheon was slowly moving his hand, their fingers intertwined. When he felt the warmth of her thigh he simply couldn't fathom stopping her.

So he let Jiheon keep urging him higher between her legs. At first she may have been guiding his hand but by the time he came in contact with her incredibly warm center he'd taken over. Even the outside of what he knew would be a beautifully tight tunnel was slick with his daughter's arousal.

"Jiheon, I shouldn't be doing this."

"It's okay daddy," she said. He heard Jiheon take a deep breath; she'd been holding it in anticipation. "Please… please I really want you to…"

"Baby, I.." he started, but Jiheon cut in:

"Just until I cum once daddy… I promise I'll be quick."

She was too adorable, irresistible; Jae began rubbing his finger up and down her tiny lips. Jiheon wrapped her fingers around her daddy's wrist as he touched her. It only took a moment or two before Jiheon was taking quick and shallow breaths, so when her father pressed the tip of his finger to her opening and then past it it took only seconds for her to climax.

"Oh my God daddy… I'm cumming…"

In the instant he urged his finger into her Jae knew she was a virgin - it put a smile on his face. His daughter was a sight to behold as he continued to slide his index finger in and out of her through the orgasm.

He'd been so caught up fingering his little girl he hadn't noticed that she'd maneuvered her hand over to his lap. As if watching the sexy brunette convulse wasn't enough to make him hard, the way she was grabbing at and stroking his erection through his pants certainly did.

Jiheon came to after a moment or so but didn't stop holding onto her daddy's penis. She wasn't to see; she could tell by feeling it that her he must have a huge one. When Jae moved her hand off she sighed and wished she could go on touching him. Jae wished she would to, but with their mother getting ready to leave downstairs, he had to go.

At school that day he didn't see his daughter all day, Jae had told Jiheon that he needed time to think. He'd intended to find a way to end the dangerous game that he and his baby girl were playing, but instead he could only think of her sprawled on the bed that morning. Jiheon found herself fidgeting in class, thinking of her daddy's hands on her pussy… his finger inside of her. It took her everything not to disobey his orders and go running to his office.

The ride home was stuffy. Jiheon squirmed in her seat, wondering if her dad would speak up about their morning's activities. But he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he didn't say much at all. She sat there, conflicted about the desires toward her father she felt. She wished he would visit her later that night to tuck her in. As she wiggled her fingertip over her sensitive clit she could only think of her father.

Jiheon didn't have much experience with boys. She'd only given a handjob at a sleepover; her parents definitely didn't know there would be boys there. Even then he'd only lasted a minute or two. Somehow she knew that her daddy would be a much better lover, that he'd be gentle with her and show her things she'd never felt before.

But he didn't come to her room that night. He didn't wake her in the morning either, so Jiheon lay there awake and unable to motivate herself to masturbate the way her dad had instructed. Furthermore, her dad wasn't there to drive her to school in the morning either; her mother said he'd gone to work early for a meeting.

Jiheon was worried. Had she done something wrong? She knew her father was hesitant about what was happening between them, but she couldn't have mistaken his arousal the morning he'd sent her into a feverish orgasm. She wanted to be near him, to know that everything was okay and he still loved her.

And then there was that feeling again. It started in her first period when one of her classmates was staring at her with the same look she'd seen many times. She was wearing her sweater dress with tall dark socks. From her knee to the very high hem of the dress was completely bare. She thought she looked cute in the mirror that morning, and Jack's terrible attempts to hide his gaze confirmed it. She hadn't even gotten to show her dad that morning.

The feeling grew each period until lunch. Her friend Chae slipped past her in the lunch line, and the way he brushed his hips against her butt couldn't have been an accident. She was surprised; usually Chae didn't come on to her like that. Perhaps she looked a little cuter than she intended. All through lunch she dealt with a tingling heat building inside her.

Jae was working quietly at his desk during the lunch period when the door quickly opened and closed. Jiheon pressed her back against it and breathed heavily.

"What the heck Jiheon?" Jae asked incredulously. His daughter's chest heaved a few more times as she caught her breath. Even in the oversized sweater her body was a thing to marvel at. It barely covered anything. Or maybe it did, but his fatherly instincts had him thinking he needed to buy his little teenager a new wardrobe.

"What the heck…DAD?" Jiheon looked up and fired back.

"I don't like your tone."

"Well I don't like when a boy touches me and then doesn't talk to me ever again." Wow was she feisty, he father thought. He was surprised to hear her so confrontational, but he liked it.

"Okay first of all, I'm not a boy I'm your father. And second it isn't like that."

"What is it like DAD, because it feels like I came to you and asked for your help and now you're ignoring me?" She started to sound sad, and Jae knew she wasn't exactly wrong.

"Baby," he told her "I'm sorry… I didn't mean for it to be like that."

Jiheon took a few steps toward him. She wasn't sure what she was looking for from him, but the arousal that had been driving her crazy a few minutes ago certainly wasn't gone. Jae went on to say that he just thought they needed to take a little time off and think about what had happened. He said he didn't mean to ignore her, he loved her…

And then he stopped talking. He stopped because his hands were on his daughter's hips. His hands were on Jiheon's hips and she had just straddled his lap. Her dress had ridden up on her hips and revealed a pair of black cotton panties.

Neither of them wanted to say anything and spoil the moment. Jae was done making excuses. His daughter obviously wanted this, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it too, whatever IT was.

So when Jiheon started slowly moving her hips he didn't protest. He had been hard since he saw her walk in the door. Jiheon could feel her father's cock sticking straight up toward his belt and she guided her hips along that path. Her father's hands held her tight and pushed her firmly down into his lap.

"Unhhh," Jiheon whined as his shaft stimulated her clit wonderfully. "Oh God daddy…"

She was already so aroused, but when her dad reached a hand up and under the dress she was on fire. His fingers inched high enough to encounter her bra; but when he didn't find one he wasn't entirely surprised. Just before his hand came to cup her soft breast, Jae realized he'd never seen Jiheon's breasts. Sure, he'd caught a glimpse of them in one of her tiny little shirts, but with his hand resting just below, Jae held his breath.

Jiheon kept grinding on her father's lap while waiting for him to move his hand higher. The tingling feeling continued to spread from her core to her limbs, from her limbs to the tips of her fingers. When her daddy's hand finally encircled the bottom of her tit she moved her hand over his quickly to close it. The sensation of his large palms holding her gently quickly brought her orgasm close at hand. He pawed, he squeezed, testing the softness and bounce of her breast. This, of course, had Jiheon moaning and writhing fast in her father's lap.

"Unhh… unhhh… unhhhh…" cried Jiheon, "Daddy you're gonna make me cum… your big cock feels so… unhhh… good!"

Jae worried that someone might hear them, or walk in to see him feeling up his daughter while she humped his lap desperately. But he couldn't stop her… he wouldn't. Her bottoms were so wet that they were leaving a damp spot on his slacks, and still he only urged her down harder. The layers of cloth between his daughter's bare pussy and his solid shaft dulled the sensitivity, but the sheer weight of their forbidden actions were really getting Jiheon going.

It was too much for her and seconds later, with a gasp and clench of her thighs, Jiheon was cumming in her daddy's lap. The teenager had to bury her head in her father's shoulder to silence her cries, but still she worked her mound over her father's bulging pants. She was quivering and unsteady as she did.

Jae adored his baby girl and the level of satisfaction he'd brought her. He'd given her exactly what she needed after a tough morning of dreaming that her dad might help her cum like he had the day before. He was ecstatic to help her, but now he was stuck with a hard-on like no other and frenzied desire to lay Jiheon on the desk and ravage her.

He did just that, and Jiheon barely noticed for her head was still rattled by the effects of her climax. The added pressure of her father''s hips against her own didn't help it clear as he laid her on the desk. Jae had easily lifted the tiny brunette and placed her where he wanted her. As he scrunched the sweater up her lithe body it shuffled and creased the papers he'd been grading. He couldn't have cared less. His hands quickly moved to his belt. Jae was going to be buried inside his beautiful teenager once and for all.

His pants fell, and his fingers fumbled to Jiheon's waist. He would have ripped off her panties but he needed to be more gentle with her.

"Daddy what are you doing?" Jiheon asked when she finally came around.

"Shhh baby, daddy's going to fuck you now, okay?"

Jiheon was worried, she had come into his office wanting something, but this was more than she'd bargained for.. The bulge in her father's boxer briefs looked big… too big. And not on his desk in the middle of the school day!

"NoooOoo…" she whined, "we shouldn't… we can't Daddy."

Jae wasn't hearing her, instead focusing his energies on keeping Jiheon still so he could remove her miniature black underwear His own daughter had just humped herself into orgasm and he intended to show her how to make her father feel good too. His cock throbbed to be released and then enveloped in Jiheon's tight quim.

"Daaaad…nooo…" she protested, drawing it out when his bulge came in contact with her bare clit. Her legs hung down over the edge of the desk, panties stretched between her feet.. 'This is really going to happen,' she thought. Jiheon didn't know whether to be scared or excited; wasn't this what she wanted all along? His penis looked so large that she was worried what it might do to her,

And then the bell rang.

The two of them held still until the long drone overhead stopped. Jae took stock of his daughter: face still flushed, her dress bunched just above her perfect little nipples and her tiny opening was waiting to accept him. Jiheon's eyes didn't leave her father's as he loomed over her. What was he going to do?

Jiheon's socks brushed the backs of her father's legs, jolting him out of his transfixion. Jae couldn't make up his mind. Should he just do it, should he take his daughter's virginity right there in the middle of his office? He certainly wanted to, and she was so vulnerable and ready for it.

He was taking too long; Jiheon started to worry she would be late for class again. Ms. Sherman was the one who caught her in the closet with that boy and she didn't want to test her again. Jiheon slowly slipped to her feet, unable to help her tiny mound from coming in contact with her father again.

She pulled her dress down and smoothed it out over her thighs. Watching her nude little body disappear was a terrible thing, especially as the sweater material covered up her youthful breasts

"Sorry Daddy… I have to go." There really was remorse in Jiheon's eyes as she said it. She leaned in close, putting a hand on her father's chest and standing on tiptoe "But you can fuck me after school if you still want to…"

It was jarring to hear Jiheon talk that way. Jae was speechless as his teenager kissed him on the lips and walked toward the door.

"Thank you daddy," she said with a big smile. "I feel much better now, I promise I'll pay you back later. I get out of cheerleading at 4:30"

Jae grimaced. 'What a tease,' he thought to himself. He felt like grabbing her by the arm and pinning her against the wall so he could call in her promise immediately. From the looks of it she was going to be a very tight fit; he might have to take his time helping her adjust. He knew he was well endowed, perhaps more-so considering how tiny Jiheon's pussy was, but he looked forward to filling her up regardless.

It must have taken Jae a full hour to get even a moment of work done. Even then, he was doing it half-mast. And just when he started to return to his papers, a glance down below his desk revealed Jiheon's pair of sexy black underwear. He reached down to grab them just before the bell rang, shoving them quickly in his pocket.

Students filed in for his last class of the day. But no matter what he tried, he could not get his mind off of finding Jiheon and releasing all his pent-up arousal deep into her young, snug insides. Even the glimpse of other pretty high schoolers in his class had Jae pining to be with his daughter again. The damp black lingerie that he kept thumbing in his pocket was calling to him, convincing him of what he had to do.

He wanted her so by the time class ended that he was out the door before any of his students. He glided down the halls, checking first at her locker and then the place in the lobby where all the cheerleaders seemed to congregate. She wasn't in either place. Downstairs he checked the gym, and didn't see any of the girls out on the floor warming up for practice. As Nagyung, another cheerleader walked toward the girls' locker room, he called out to her .

"Tell Jiheon her father needs to see her right away, will you Nagyung?"

"Sure Mr. Reynolds!" she responded. Nagyung was always curiously nice to him.

Inside the locker room Jiheon's friend relayed the message. Girls who overheard "ooo-ed" and "ahh-ed" or taunted that Jiheon was in trouble. Jiheon herself wondered what her dad could want badly enough to pull her out of practice. Quickly she pulled on the rest of her cheerleading outfit. They had really gotten away with showing a lot of skin this year, with a halter-top and skirt that barely covered her behind. Of course, they had matching boy-shorts to cover up on spin and jump moves, but in her haste Jiheon hadn't put them on. It reminded her of earlier that day, which obviously brought a certain heat beneath her skirt.

Sure enough, her father was waiting close by.

"Hey Dad, what's up…" Jiheon started, but her father interrupted.

"You're not in trouble Jiheon but follow me." He grabbed her by the arm and quickly led her across the gym. Jiheon was nervous but admittedly excited about what was going on. She always liked it when boys were a little agressive; her father's strong grasp sent butterflies fluttering through her tummy.

When they reached the other side of the gym she thought he would take them through the exit doors next to the bleachers. Instead she watched her father check around them, standing next to the plastic panels blocking entry beneath the bleachers. When he seemed sure nobody was watching, Jae ducked behind the false wall and dragged his daughter with him.

It was darker there; nobody could see without looking for them. Once they were both safely concealed, Jae pulled his daughter in close and pressed her against the wall of the gym. His lips fell upon hers greedily, and Jiheon lifted a leg to pull them together. She knew what her dad wanted; the hard-on fighting against his slacks gave him away.

She kissed him with an equal amount of passion. Even though he'd helped abate her pent up urges earlier that day, thinking of what he'd meant to do to her when he'd pulled off her panties had riled her up more than ever. Jiheon didn't care that it was wrong. She didn't care that they were in her school or under the bleachers. And she didn't care that she could hear the cheerleading squad gathering out on the gym floor. By the time her other foot lifted off the ground as her father pinned her against the wall, Jiheon was ready for whatever was next

"Slow down Daddy," Jiheon giggled, "I'm all yours now…"

But he didn't slow down. Just as soon as his lips left hers, his fingers found the hem of her top and pulled it up over her head. The tight-fitting shirt rustled her hair as it left her shoulders, and her pert breasts jiggled free of their trap. Her back came into contact with the cold wall but her bare chest was immediately warmed by her dad once again squeezing her between him and the concrete.

As their lips came together again, father and daughter's tongues fought to gain ground. They practiced twirling around each other's; Jiheon licked the roof of Jae's mouth playfully. All the while Jiheon was unbuttoning her father's shirt. And before long, Jae's hands lowered to his baby's waist. He paused to grip her tit, admiring it briefly before wrapping thumb and forefinger around her thin waist.

But he didn't stop there, and as soon as his hand cleared the ruffled fabric of her skirt, he found her bottomless once again.

"Jesus Jiheon, you are a bad girl," his fingers taunted the outer lips of her now-slick entrance, "do you ever listen to me baby?"

Jiheon tilted her head, arching her back simultaneously while her father fingers pried at her sensitive lips. "I'm sorry daddy…uuoohhh… I didn't have time to put my bottoms on before I came out."

They remained silent for a moment while concentrating on what Jae was doing with his hands down below. He continued to feign that he might sink a finger into her hot little center, but then he'd pull away. It was driving Jiheon crazy.

"I'll listen now daddy…" she said through a breath and a gasp, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, I promise."

Standing there with his gorgeous daughter, touching and gazing upon her slender teenage body and its inexplicable proportions, he knew exactly what he wanted her to do.

"Okay then Jiheon," he started, while sliding a fingertip just between her wet lips, "how about you take off my pants first."

"Ok Daddy!" Jiheon complied excitedly. It was hard to do anything with her father's finger stroking her tingling inner walls.

She fumbled with his belt but in a few seconds his pants fell to the ground with a clink. Her hand held the outline of his manhood through his underwear, she was nervous to finally see it for real.

"It feels so big daddy," she said admiringly, but with apparent nervousness in her voice.

"It will be okay honey, I promise to go slow."

Still she ran her hand up and down the length of his shaft. She wanted to tease him like he had done to her. But now, with the amazing feeling of her father working his finger in and out of her pussy to his second knuckle, Jiheon wanted to finally know what having her daddy's penis inside of her would feel like. At long last, she grabbed his waistband and tugged it over him and down around his thighs

Jae's cock sprung free of his underwear impressively; it looked over eight inches long and very thick. The way they were standing it was dangerously close to his daughter's virgin hole; it made both of them hold their breath for a second as reality set in.

Jiheon carefully took him in her hand. Her father groaned appreciatively as his daughter finally touched him the way he'd wanted for too long. Her hand looked miniature wrapped around Jae's cock, but it felt fantastic when she began sliding it up and down like she heard she was supposed to.

Jae involuntarily closed the distance between his hips and Jiheon's. Only a few more inches and he'd be positioned to make her a woman.

"I've never had sex before dad, but aren't we supposed to use a condom?" Jiheon questioned innocently.

"Yes baby." her father said, respiring heavily, "but it's okay, I'll be careful."

Inexperienced as she was, she was right, but he couldn't stop now. Jiheon wouldn't have allowed him to anyway, but his promise calmed her. They both knew Jiheon wasn't on birth control, her mother wouldn't allow it. It made their secret even riskier, and all the more exhilarating.

"I had my period two weeks ago daddy, so we have to be REALLY careful.. okay?" The way she continued stroking him, picking up speed even, made it impossible for Jae to say anything that might stop them now. Even if she was at her most fertile, nothing could stop him fucking her now.

Jiheon made like she would get on her knees; she knew a little about how to give a blowjob, and she wanted to make her dad happy. But he stopped her before she could kneel before him. Pulling her back up to face him, he kissed her, looked into her eyes and said,

"Later sweetie, I can't wait any longer to make love to you," he told her.

Jiheon wore the biggest smile he'd ever seen, she felt a warmth deep inside her and a twinge of nerves.

"Take it in your hand," her father instructed. Jiheon complied. "Now point it at your … ahhh right there…" Her father was cut off as Jiheon got ahead of him. His tip came into contact with her mound and was immediately coated with her wetness.

"Are you ready… are you sure… my bad little daughter?" As he said it Jae was nudging his tip against Jiheon's opening - it felt incredible to both of them.

"Yes Daddy…"

"Tell me you want it," he asked.

"Ugghh… I want it," she said, squirming as his tip kneaded her clit.

"Are you going to take my virginity?" Jiheon asked. She pulled at him, her hand still encircling his rod as he lingered outside of her. "Ooohh… are you daddy?…or are you going to just talk about it."

Jae scoffed, hesitating a moment at her edginess, and then promptly accepting her challenge.

He pushed forward.

Jiheon's lips protested, but gave way.

Jae's tip, the whole thing, but only that, was finally fit snugly inside her. The feeling was inexplicable. Jiheon, who was experiencing it for the first time, adored the warmth bestowed in her by her dad's invading head. And Jae had never felt something so snug and inviting; they both wanted more.

With one leg lifted and wrapped around his naked thigh to allow him access, Jiheon stood helpless but fulfilled as her dad slid in further.

There was pain at first.

Jae paused, far from entirely within his little girl.

"Are you okay Jiheon?" He asked lovingly; the look on her face demanded he check.

"Oh Dad…uhhhhhhh…" she panted needily, "Daaad…"

Jiheon's chest heaved.

She was too arousing a sight. He urged just a bit further.

Jiheon howled.

Worrying they would be heard he stopped moving.

"Shhhhhh honey," he consoled, placing a finger over her lips. Luckily the noise level in the gym was full of cheerleaders and part of band practicing. "Do you want to stop? Does it hurt too bad."

Jae hoped to God she didn't.

"NO!" Jiheon cried in a hushed voices, "No Daddy, no… Keep going, I can be a big girl for you…uhhhhh… and your…oohhhh," Her father had continued channelling into her, "your big… ohmygod…thick…unnhh… cock."

By the time she finished saying it Jae was as far as he could go. Standing the way they were he could not shove all the way into his daughter's pussy. Jiheon was lucky because she was having a hard enough time adjusting to her dad's size already.

Impaled and pinned against the wall, Jiheon returned a long, desirous kiss from her father. It helped her take her mind off the discomfort of having him inside her, penetrating her for the first time. So did the way his hands seemed to glide around her body, finding all of the right spots to massage her and help her along. When he finally moved again she was ready.

Jae slowly withdrew from his daughter.

Her snug insides gripped him, resisting his exit.

As her entrance gave way to the ridge of his tip, Jiheon let out the breath she'd been holding. Jae wanted nothing more than to plunge back inside her, but watching his little girl catch her breath he knew to wait. Instead he swiped a hand under her yellow skirt and grabbed hold of her tender, padded cheek. With the other he palmed her ample breasts.

"Put it back in daddy… please," Jiheon begged after a few seconds. She couldn't stand being so empty with his hands provoking her so.

Again he thrust into her, hesitating just inside.

Jiheon acted immediately, urging him with her leg from behind.

She whimpered as her dad drove inward.

"Ohh fuckkk daaad…" she whimpered.

"Ohh Jiheon… my little girl…" her father answered, "you feel so good…you are…" she was listening closely to dull the hurt, "perfect." he whispered in her ear.

Nobody had ever told her that. Jiheon, now speared again by her father, wanted nothing more than to make him as happy as he was making her. The ache of her lost virginity was passing, replaced by the slow piston of her daddy in her pussy. She did what she could to rock her hips to meet him.

By the third or fourth time he entered her, Jiheon lost count. Jae quickened his thrusts to a level he thought his daughter could handle, higher still when he felt her returning his movements. He could feel every inch of her insides as he slid past, and she him. Young as she was there was moisture soaking their junction and easing Jae's repeated entry into her forbidden teenage pussy.

Moments later, Jae was holding his daughter's ass firmly and plunging into her again and again. His head was nuzzled into her neck and between enamored kisses and flicks of his tongue, Jiheon could feel her father's breath heavy on her skin.

"You're so bad daddy…" she hissed in his ear, "oooohhh…you're the naughty one…"

"Is that right… uhhh… my little daughter who humped my lap…ughh.. . until you came?"

He thrust harder, prodding a little deeper into her.

"You're the one… ohh fuck daaaadd… who pulled me out of practice…uhhhh uhhhh uhhhh… so you could take my virginity…"

"My little teenager…who doesn't wear panties to school…and lets boys feel her up in the locker room." he was fucking Jiheon hard enough to see her breasts shudder with each thrust.

Jiheon gasped, "it was the janitor's closet," she whispered back and pushed her father away with a hand on his chest. His cock slid out of her and sprang to attention awaiting her next move.

"Well then daddy," she replied with attitude. Turning around, Jiheon slid her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and shimmied out of it, bending at the waist. "If you're not as naughty as me," she was glancing back at him over her shoulder, "then maybe you shouldn't fuck me doggy while while I take off my skirt for you"

Sure enough, wonderfully naked, with only the steel supports of the bleachers and dim light for a backdrop, Jiheon bent over and wiggled her butt at her dad. And before she could stand up, her father took a quick step forward, directed his tip to her bare, tender opening, and penetrated her once again.

"Unnnnnhhhhh…" Jiheon cried out, covering her mouth as she caught herself.

Carefully but deliberately Jae drove into his daughter once more. He didn't give her much time to catch her breath either; her challenge motivated him to take her more forcefully this time.

Jiheon braced herself with her hands on the wall as her dad pounded into her. Her father fucking her from behind was entirely new, as was the depth his big cock was reaching in their new position. Jiheon had to stand on her toes to help him fuck her just right. The squishing sound of her slick walls separated repeatedly by his advances was audible to both of them.

"Ooo fuck…" she whined

"Jiheon…" Jae called.

"Fuuuuck daddy," cried Jiheon as he continued to thud against her butt.

His hands firmly grasped her hips, pulling her to him when he was thrusting forward. In and out again dad's cock went in his daughter's pussy. He was making her feel things she'd never even fathomed, stimulating depths inside her with his thick cock she didn't know he could.

Her back was arched impressively and at some point Jiheon began leaning into each thrust of her father's pelvis. Her breasts hung freely and swayed until her dad reached forward to hold one. It soft and wonderful in his hand, perky like only an eighteen year old girl's could be. Jae placed his other hand on her lower back, warm with perspiration, and used it to leverage driving into his daughter's hot center. His cock kept touching a spot inside her that was sending a jolt to her brain each time he slid out of her pussy and back in.

He would remove his cock but for the very tip, then pry her back open and fill her up until she whimpered and cried. Once or twice when Jae's hips met his teenager's cute butt, he held her tight, pushing and flexing for a few precious millimeters deeper in her snug tunnel. It made Jiheon writhe, both in pleasure and pain while her dad showed her how it felt to be truly full of his manhood.

When he had plunged into her enough times, pressuring the spot that was causing her to quake and moan louder, Jiheon started to feel her knees weaken.

"Daddy… I feel…ohh no… I feel like I'm going to…" she warned desperately. She was powerless to stop him, and soon she had not enough strength to even stand on her own two legs.

Her father didn't relent, he actually picked up speed. Knowing if he refused to let up he would make his baby girl cum, Jae held her tight as her legs gave out and he continued sliding his cock in her tunnel over and over.

"Daaad… wait… I'm gonna… ughhh unhhhh… I feel"

Suddenly she went silent. A feeling, one that started deep within her, shot out in all directions. If her father hadn't reached down to cover her mouth she would have screamed at the top of her lungs. Instead, as he held most of her weight, her dad pulled her straight up and speared her insides while she moaned into his hand. As she came, fluids covered his cock and dripped down onto his legs and feet. His little girl was the first he'd ever been with that came so hard.

His little girl shaking in his arms was the sexiest thing Jae had ever experienced. He did what he could to rock his hips and continue stimulating her quaking insides while pawing at her exposed breasts and abdomen. He raked her skin lightly with his nails. Jiheon was still orgasming; tears were coming from eyes.

When she finally stopped quivering, Jae was kissing her neck tenderly and holding both her tits in his hands. His elbows squeezed her tight, and slowly but surely she found strength returning to her legs. Jiheon's whole body tingled, and there was still the incredible feeling of her daddy's cock buried in her dripping quim.

"Dad…" she paused, "that's never happened to me before." Her father was pecking kisses on her cheek and ear from behind her - it felt nice. "I'm sorry I got you all wet."

Jae chuckled at that, "Don't be sorry baby, that was the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Jiheon blushed, reveling in being hugged tightly by her father. She wanted nothing anymore but to feel stuffed full of her daddy. Nevertheless he slid out of her as she turned around to face him.

"I want you to cum too daddy," she pleaded, taking hold of him and feeling her hand slide on his thick shaft from all the fluids she'd left.. "What can I do, I want you to feel like I just did."

A big smile crossed Jae's face: "Well I don't know if I can cum that hard little one, but can you take a little more?" he asked.

"Daaad… you can fuck me any time you want." she promised kissing his lips, "any way you want," planting a kiss on his cheek, "anywhere you want." she said, looking around and planting another one on his manly chest. On just the other side of the bleachers, some fifty feet away, Jiheon's cheerleading squad was practicing. Some of them wondered where she'd gone off to. If only they knew that she was so close by, losing her virginity to her loving father, and loving every second of it…

Reaching down he grasped her surprisingly generous butt and lifted her up. Not too far away was a stack of chairs covered in a thick packing blanket. It was the perfect place to set his beautiful brunette down and fuck her senseless. Not before that, however, Jiheon took advantage of her position and reached below her to grab her father's cock again. She had to lift herself a little, but it might just work. As she flexed her legs, they slid and slung over her father's arms. Jae wondered what she was doing, and a few seconds later he got his answer.

When Jiheon released herself, it was right down onto his upright cock. He hadn't expected it; the increase in warmth and pressure on him was amazing. His daughter surprised him yet again, the naughty little minx was doing her best to pump up and down on him as he held her in his arms. It was adorable and undeniably sexy; he let her exert her little body until she was panting from the effort.

She was so light he was in no rush to set her down and get in her way. Each time she lifted her tiny athletic body, her pussy fought his return inside of her. It turned him on so much that he knew he was getting close to his own orgasm.

Jiheon was watching between them, focusing hard on moving up and down, and Jae was watching her. He loved her look of awe and ecstasy as she changed the pace and stared at the evidence of their incest, their forbidden and life-altering love. At some point Jae was helping her move and the burning in Jiheon's thighs went away. She finally looked up to see him looking at her adoringly.

Without releasing from her gaze, Jae maneuvered Jiheon over to the stack of chairs. He withdrew just long enough to get her situated so he could fuck her just right. Jae lingered there, his heavy cock wagging and brushing her hyper-sensitive nub. He even slid his tip against her tender clit before rubbing it along the bottom of the his thick shaft. It was too long to be without her father inside her.

"Come on… please…" Jiheon begged. "fuck me daddy…ohhh…stick your cock in your little girl's pussy…I want it"

Jae held his finger to his lips again. "Careful honey." The band wasn't playing anymore outside, but someone was dribbling a basketball and the cheerleaders were still going. If Jiheon was too loud, they could be found.

Though the naughtiness of dad taking daughter's virginity in the school gym appealed to the pair, getting caught would definitely prevent their tryst ever happening again. Jiheon hoped it would. And if he hadn't been transfixed by her nakedness and the begging look in her eye, Jae would have been thinking of fucking all the ways he was going to fuck his daughter next.

But his adorable brunette was waiting patiently for her dad to be buried in her warm tunnel again, and Jae couldn't stand to keep teasing her anyway. Once more Jae felt his cockhead dangerously near entering his own daughter before it slid its path upward one final time. Drawing back he lined up, took a deep breath, and with his eyes gazing deep into his little girl's he pushed his cock back into her tiny teen pussy.

"Oh daaaad…" she whispered as he put an inch in. "Daaaaddy… its feels soo… it feels bigger daddyuuuhhh." Her whimpering made him throb with arousal.

"ohhh oww… It feels bigger this way dad…ooohhh please… stop for a minute."

Jae waited, but not more than a few seconds. Maybe the best way for his little girl to adjust would be for him to just keep fucking her, gradually. Mostly, however, Jae couldn't just stop chasing the orgasm that fucking his daughter from behind a moment ago had begun.

Jiheon's head rolled as her dad kept inching further into her. As her walls enveloped him, Jae knew he didn't have long. Watching his baby squirm and struggle to fit him, he took her head tenderly in his hand and hushed her.

"Shhh baby…uhh… try not to squeeze," Jae instructed; he didn't want to come so soon.

"Ooooo… nooo it hurts…" she whined, "daddy… fuck…"

The slick sound of Jiheon's tunnel accepting her dad's rod was amazing enough, and then there was her taut little abdomen. Each time he tried to sink all the way into Jiheon's tight pussy, it flexed to fit him. Past the peak of her clit, his rod made its way and mounded her skin in a path up her belly ever so slightly while it fought deeper into her womb.

His pace quickened unintentionally, and Jiheon seemed to be coming around to her father's strong thrusts. One of her hands scratched and pulled at his back while the other guided him to palm her breast and stroke her nipple. He was close.

"Cum for me daddy…"

"Oh Jiheon… say it again…"

"Come on daaad… cum for me." Her voice was like honey. "I'm yours daddy… I'm… oooo… I'm your bad little girl."

Jiheon was sensing from her father's heavy breathing that he was getting close. She only knew what she'd heard from her friends, but she knew that he was going to shoot sperm out of his cock that was inside her. She knew that if he wasn't careful like he promised he could get her pregnant… that would probably be bad.

"Daddy remember… ohhhh," he was starting to really fuck her then, "Mom won't let me take birth control… ohhh God… not inside me daddy!"

Jae was nearing as deep in Jiheon's tiny quim would allow. His balls contacted the eighteen-year-old's butt as he prodded her cervix.

"Ooooo fuck daddy… oohh oww…" her cries were of extreme sensation.

She was hugging him so tight.

His hands searched for more and more of her.

He shoved in, coming close enough to steal a kiss.

He pulled out, taking hold of her hips.

Again. Jiheon was stifling a moan, biting her lip.

He didn't want to be anywhere else except lodged wonderfully in Jiheon's welcoming little pussy. It was the best thing he'd ever felt, and watching her pleading eyes as he deflowered her the last thing on his mind was pulling out of her for safety.

In fact, the thought excited him. It was so taboo, getting Jiheon pregnant. His own baby girl, in her school's gymnasium, with the cheerleading team a few feet away… unprotected and so vulnerable. If he pulled out of her in time he could avoid a baby growing inside his own daughter.

He simply couldn't.

A few more thrusts into Jiheon and he hit the point of no return. Jiheon read the decision in his eyes. He was gripping her hips tight with his strong hands, depressions being made in her soft flesh.

"Daddy you can't…oooohh nooo… "

And then he was cumming. Her insides drew upon him and he was in heaven.

He pumped it into her generously, sending ropes of potent semen into his baby's womb. It felt so incredible, so right. His knees felt weak beneath him, so he held on tight to Jiheon's tiny frame. Jiheon moaned as her father painted her insides with his forbidden seed; there was a new kind of pressure within her beyond that of his pulsing cock

"Oh God… Oh daddy I feel it…" Jiheon told him.

…something about the sensation of her father's spunk being released into her pussy, filling her up more when she hadn't thought it possible… It flooded her with feeling, and just when she hadn't seen it coming.

"Daddy… ohhh… you're making me cum again!"

Already lost in the beauty of pumping his cum into Jiheon's burning womb, the extra grip of her cumming was another thing entirely. It extracted what little he had left in him. Her eyes teared as she shook silently, impaled on her daddy's cock.

Jae held his daughter tight and close, nestled deep inside her. She cooed and moaned while her father let out a last few defiant jets of cum, she could feel him throb. Having penetrated and filled deep within her, his semen made its way around her father's buried shaft. It peeked out around pink lips and wonderfully displayed their incestuous tryst.

It took more than a moment for Jiheon to come around. She was beside herself with the unfamiliar territory her father had just shown her. She was coming down from her second orgasm in a few minutes and dripping her father's cum from the place where he remained planted into her.

"Daddy you promised… you weren't supposed to cum inside me…" she scolded

"I know baby I'm sorry." He said.

"You could make me pregnant daaad…"

"I know honey, I just couldn't stop fucking you, it felt too good."

It made Jiheon smile hearing her dad confirm he felt as wonderful as she did. She knew he wasn't supposed to, but it had been the feeling of his warm cum pumping her full that had given her an orgasm in the first place. It felt wonderful, and knowing she'd made her father so aroused he lost control was too. She couldn't go on pretending she minded that he'd cum in her pussy.

"Soo bad daddy…" she chastised him. He came in close and kissed at her cheek and neck. "…you came so much I can feel it all in me." He was going to apologize to her again when he heard. "I like it… I'm glad you did."

Once again his little girl surprised him. He was thinking how terrible he'd feel if he had to bring his daughter in to get a pill, or worse, when she smiled and told him she liked that he'd cum inside her.

"Daddy's aren't supposed to cum in their daughter's pussy, Dad…" she continued, "especially when I could get pregnant so easily. "

"Well little girls aren't supposed to bend over for their fathers to fuck them either." He fired back, "but you didn't seem to mind."

Jiheon laughed and blushed as she toyed with him. "I'm only teasing you… I am so glad it was you to take my virginity daddy! And your cum feels amazing inside me."

They kissed once more, admiring each other and grateful for the love they'd just shared. When Jae thought the time was right, he began sliding his cock out of his daughter. Jiheon's eyes rolled back and she whimpered as he regrettably removed each inch. When it finally came to his head, her lips parted a little wider and released his member with a faint pop. Jae's pretty brunette giggled adorably when she heard it, new to all the sounds and sensations of sex. He intended to teach her everything, and thoroughly.

When his hardly softened cock finally emerged from Jiheon, a white pearl gleamed from her slit; a stream of cum followed soon after. Her no longer virgin hole urged her father's generous load out of her from where she was already overfilled. It looked unspeakably beautiful, the evidence of their lovemaking trickling out of her pussy. Jiheon was still returning to her normal pursed tautness after her father removed himself from inside her.

In fact, it looked so inviting and slick that Jae dared one last move. When Jiheon was least expecting it, he redirected his head at her cum-infused quim. Before she could protest, Jae shoved into her, excruciatingly stimulated by her ever-staggering tightness.

"Ooohhh fuck daddy… owwww, it's sore!"

The added lubrication helped, as if Jiheon wasn't already dripping wet. But the tiny cheerleader was far from used to having anything so large inside her; she was definitely going to need time to recover. On some level it did feel good, but Jiheon hoped her father wasn't hoping to have sex again so soon.

"Please dad… I promise you can fuck me again if you want…owww" she pleaded, "but I need a break before I can do it more."

After his hypersensitive tip felt the insides of his daughter one last time, Jae couldn't have continued anyway. He had simply wanted to feel his freshly fucked teenager one last time. He didn't know when he and Jiheon would be able to have sex again without risking exposure the way they currently were.

"Don't worry honey, I just had to feel you one last time. You looked incredible and you did so well on your first time!"

His compliments warmed her thoroughly. If he'd really wanted to, Jiheon would have let her father fuck her silly; especially if he was going to fill her up again. She was glad, however, when he removed his prodding erection from her once and for all. Again, cum seeped out of her, easing his rod as it slid along her clit wonderfully when he leaned in to kiss her.

After they were done making out like teenagers, Jae lifted Jiheon effortlessly and replaced her on the floor. She stood close to him and admired his towering form while hugging him the way she always had. Jae held on to her butt and scratched her back while she purred in his arms.

"I love you daddy." Jiheon cooed.

"I love you too Jiheon." Jae assured her.

After a moment or two they quietly gathered their mess of clothes. Jae helped Jiheon climb back into her uniform. Holding her shirt as she slid her arms back into it, Jae was sorry to see his daughter's tits stowed beneath the school's emblem.

Even after he had her all dressed and ready to go, she still had a trail of his cum sneaking down her leg. He could just see it beneath the hem of her skirt.

"Jiheon, your leg… you have some of my…"

She turned lazily to look, "I have some of my daddy's cum on my leg? Well it keeps dripping out of me so there's no point in cleaning it off!" She was trying to get a rise out of him.

"Hopefully you can cum in me some more later…if you want to daddy?" She was being her usual bouncy self, once again looking innocent and charming in her cheerleader outfit. After she asked, her hand found Jae's cock through his trousers and rubbed it playfully. He groaned as his daughter slid her hand over it a few times before releasing him.

"I'll take that as a yes. Gotta go dad, meet you at the car!"

He watched her pert backside push backward as she leaned through the gap between the bleachers and wall to check for onlookers. From the sound of it, the cheerleading practice was over; he wondered how Jiheon would explain her absence to her friends. She smiled back at him knowingly.

The last thing he saw as she squeezed through and her skirt was pulled upward was the white gleam of his semen on her tiny inner thigh. Knowing his daughter was going to be walking around the school with his fresh spunk inside her young pussy denied him the chance to be rid of his erection before he left the place of their forbidden rendezvous.

He walked like a zombie on the way to his office and then the car, mumbling goodbyes to whoever passed him on the way. Jiheon was all he could think of: what they'd done, how things would change, but most of all how amazing it was to have fucked his little girl senseless.

It was all he could do not seek her out before she made her way to the car. But she was worth the wait, back in the cute outfit she'd been wearing before, the short sweater dress boasted her youthfully smooth thighs. Despite having her in front of him, naked but for her long socks only half an hour before, now that her body was hidden from him he wanted to rip her clothes off and see again. It was as if his appetite for her had increased tenfold.

Jiheon was surprisingly comfortable with what had happened between them. She talked about how it felt, what her favorite part was… she was so innocent for a teenager who had so recently had unprotected sex with her father.

"My favorite was when you were fucking me from behind, isn't it called doggie?" She asked sweetly. "I felt like you were poking me so far inside, and you kept touching this spot that made me shake every time."

He explained everything she asked, and hearing his own daughter describe their incest in such detail tented his pants immediately.

"And then when you came in me, ohh my god," Jiheon sounded aroused as well. "As soon as I felt it I had another orgasm."

When Jiheon looked over at her father, he looked uncomfortable and seemed to be adjusting his pants.

"Awww Dad, am I making you get all big and hard again?" She teased him, "Here let me help."

Jiheon quickly reached over and grabbed him through his pants before fumbling with his belt and button. She wasted little time freeing his cock through the hole in his boxers beneath.

First she was stroking him, jerking her hand up and down on his pole like she'd seen before. But when she decided to change things up a bit it shocked her father thoroughly. She leaned over the center console and flicked her tongue on his tip. When she felt him jolt, Jiheon looked up into her father's eyes.

"Does that feel good dad?" She lapped at the underside of his tip twice, three times again."What should I do next?"

"Ohh honey," Jae moaned, "can you put it in your mouth?"

"It's big but I 'll try it for you!"

Jiheon opened her mouth wide, putting the tip of her father's cock on her tongue and padding it as she tried to take him into her mouth. It was a tight fit, but she pushed down further and challenged herself to take more. Her father's involuntary gasps told her she was doing something right.

"Oh you're doing well baby… just like that." Jiheon's father instructed.

She began to bob her head up and down while her father guided her by the neck. Within a minute or so, she was sprawled across the console to be able to touch him with two hands and her mouth at the same time. Her dress was already tugging downward in her position, so Jae simply took the opportunity to push it down further over his daughter's breasts.

Her young, perky chest came free and was pushed upward noticeably by the neck of the sweater. Her head went up and down, followed by a hand on his shaft and the other gently massaging his balls. Jae's daughter seemed to be a natural; only halfway home and he could feel his orgasm welling from inside him.

Jae was fondling his daughter's breasts and anywhere else he could reach as she sucked him. A few times she moaned; the hum from her sweet vocal cords urging him along as effectively as her mouth and fingers. Up and down she slurped; Jae was lucky to keep the car pointed straight. At least two cars driving along noticed what Jiheon was up to, matching his speed briefly to watch the little eighteen year-old nod her head in his lap. If only they knew she was sucking her father's cock… the truth made him throb.

"Jiheon you're gonna make me… uhhh… I'm gonna come baby…"

She didn't budge, only kept sucking him in and out of her mouth. She wagged her tongue back and forth over her daddy's shaft and tip. Her mouth was getting tired but she wanted desperately to make her father cum again.

She succeeded. While paused at a stoplight, she felt the first jet of cum squirt against the roof of her mouth. Jiheon lingered at the ridge of his helmet, sucking and licking amorously while her hand jerked up and down her father's staff. Each stroke pumped another stream of his cum into her mouth. Jiheon was humming again as she took in his cum.

Jae was lost; his vision left him and he could barely keep his eyes on the road. She obviously didn't know how sensitive his tip would be after she swallowed all of his load, and she kept slurping around his head.

"Ohhh Jiheon… baby you have to stop…Daddy gets sensitive when you make him…ooo… cum." Despite how cute she looked he couldn't take it anymore.

Jiheon looked up at him, wide-eyed and adorable. She slowly removed him from her mouth, flicking her tongue on him once for good measure. She was still holding him firmly, so she removed her hand and placed it on his chest while her father took deep breaths to recover. It made her happy to watch him so obviously drained from her efforts.

She helped him get his cock back in his pants and within a few more minutes, they were pulling in the driveway.

As the door opened and they drove into the garage, both father and daughter realized how different a situation they were in from doing the same thing the last time the door had shut behind them. The dark garage and the intimate cabin of the car would likely be the last time they could be truly alone for a while. Seeing her there, with her little dress scrunched around her waist, legs slung over the chair, all he could think about was how he wanted to spend as much time with her in his arms as possible.

"Baby, we are going to have to be very careful now, okay?" Jae said to his daughter.

"You mean I can't tell mom I fucked you instead of going to cheerleading practice?" Jiheon joked, "I can't tell her you fucked your little girl and came in my pussy?"

"Jiheon, I'm not kidding." Jae assured her, hoping her innocent look was an act.

"I know daddy, I promise I'll be a good little girl." She said it as she smoothed her skirt over her thighs and fixed her hair. "Until you come see me tonight and show me how to be bad again."

Jae smiled and his daughter did too. Neither of them knew what exactly was in store for them but both knew they couldn't simply end the inspired love and lust they had discovered. Jiheon got out of the car first, stealing a kiss before she grabbed her things and skipped to the door.

"Mom, I'm home! You'll never guess what happened at school today!" She flashed a mischievous grin back at her dad who followed through the door.

It was the same one she wore when she pretended to be asleep as her father called her name after slipping into her bedroom that night. Jiheon knew if he came any closer he'd see her face down on the bed, with her nightie all bunched at her waist, her naked lower half pushing up so he could see her bare, wet pussy just waiting for him.

Maybe he'd come to tell her they had to stop… but she doubted it.

[softlypossessive]

Hello! I hope you’ve been having a great day. I was wondering if I could request a strawhat x mute!reader. The reader has selective mutism, meaning she gets anxiety speaking to people in certain situations. When she does speak, which would be rare, it’s only when it’s just her and her crew. If she was in public she and had to say something she would whisper directly in their ear, otherwise she wouldn’t speak. The relationship could be either platonic or romantic, either is fine. I was wondering how would the strawhats react to their mute member being in a situation where pirates of a different crew surrounds and antagonizes her, trying to get her to speak to them. Also, may I ask that you not make the reader meek and defenseless? While she does feel anxiety when she’s in a situation where she has to speak to people, she’s not an overall anxious and docile person.

♡･ﾟ𓏸 All Strawhats x Selectively Mute!Reader Headcanons 𓏸･ﾟ♡

♡ Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Nami, Robin, Franky, Jinbe, Brook, Chopper, gn!reader ♡ Warnings: Fluff, Soft protectiveness, mutual understanding, SFW, platonic, romantic if you squint?? mentions of selective mutism, quiet affirmations, crew-wide affection, no use of Y/N, ♡ Notes: Thank you so much for the request! I really hope I did it justice <3 I went with a full crew interpretation (since it’s SFW) and leaned into that strong, warm platonic love—though if you squint, a few bits might read a lil more intimate. But overall? This crew would go to war for you, no questions asked. Not spicy, just full of love and loyalty.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

🍖 Luffy

At first, Luffy doesn’t get it.

“Why don’t you talk to them? Are they stupid?” (Yes, Luffy. Yes, they are.)

But the moment it clicks—that your silence isn’t a weakness but a boundary—he respects it with his whole chest

He never pressures you to speak. Like, ever. He doesn’t even notice you don’t talk half the time because he just vibes with your presence

You're still his crewmate, still part of the adventure, still cool as hell in his book

When you do whisper to him? Man lights up like a SUNRISE

“WAAAH YOU TALKED TO ME!!!”

Cue excitement. He treasures those moments

He absolutely throws hands if anyone tries to mock or push you into speaking.

No hesitation.

One second of antagonizing you = rubber punch to the jaw

Thinks your ability to stand silent and still in chaos is scary cool

"You don't need words to be strong. I can feel it. You're STRONG."

⚔️ Zoro

Completely unbothered by your silence—he’s not exactly chatty either

You two could sit in silence for three hours and that’s a perfect conversation to him

He clocks your selective mutism immediately and never asks questions you don’t want to answer

If you whisper something in his ear in public, he listens like it’s sacred scripture

He’s incredibly protective—not because he thinks you’re weak, but because he hates people who mistake quiet for easy prey

The moment someone tries to force words out of you? Zoro’s sword is already out

“You really think pressure makes people talk? Try bleeding first. Then we’ll compare notes.”

He absolutely respects that your silence is a form of control, not submission

Will stand at your shoulder like a silent wall of steel until you nod it’s okay to move

🍳 Sanji

Sanji is a soft king when it comes to your comfort

Doesn’t just “accept” your mutism—he adapts to it

Develops a whole love language around your silences: gestures, hand squeezes, looks, shared glances over food

If you whisper in his ear in public? He goes red every time no matter what you said

Treats your rare spoken words like poetry.

"Your voice... I could die happy now."

But if anyone dares try to “make you speak,” he’s fury on legs

“If you wanted a conversation, you should’ve kept your tongue attached.”

Elegant fury. Fires the first kick. Lights a cigarette after the last one drops

Thinks your silence adds to your mystique and honestly simps hard for it

“They don’t need to talk, idiot. They’re already unforgettable.”

🛠️ Usopp

Understands your selective mutism right away—relates through his own anxiety

Never makes it a big deal, just accepts it as part of who you are

Acts as your unofficial hype man 24/7

Narrates your silence like it’s legendary

“My friend here? Silent assassin. Writes poetry. Could kill you in three moves. Show some respect.”

Gets so excited whenever you whisper to him

“THEY SAID SOMETHING TO ME. PERSONALLY. ME.”

Makes little gadgets to help you communicate—flip signs, buttons, visual cues

If anyone mocks or pressures you to speak, he steps up immediately

Starts going off in a fiery, ridiculous, clearly-exaggerated monologue about how you’re a silent warrior who once stared down a sea king until it cried.

“You’re really gonna push someone who could take you out with one look?”

Absolutely nervous but still defends you—protective even when shaking

Later brags about it like he was chill the whole time

Thinks your silence is mysterious, heroic, and honestly? Very cool

🍊 Nami

Notices your mutism instantly and adjusts without missing a beat

Communicates with subtle cues: touch, eye contact, quiet words

Always leans in when you whisper, gives you her full attention

Becomes your translator in crowds, sharp and effective

“They said back off. Before I make you.”

If someone tries to force you to talk, she doesn’t hold back

Fights with sass, smarts, and no mercy—protects you because you’re strong, not in spite of it

Never treats you like a problem to fix

Calls your mutism a boundary, not a flaw

Gets genuinely touched when you whisper something soft to her

“Only the right people get to hear that voice.”

Thinks you’re powerful in your silence—deadly, beautiful, and fierce

📚 Robin

Understands without needing it explained—she’s lived through silence herself

Views your selective mutism as deliberate, powerful, elegant

You’re not “mute” to her—you’re discerning. And that makes you brilliant in her book.

She’s very observant.

Not only does she notice the exact kinds of situations that make you shut down, she preemptively handles them.

Like casually standing next to you in crowds. Leaning in so you can whisper without stress. Ordering your drink without being asked.

You two become silent duo queens, communicating entire conversations with eye contact and head tilts

But when you’re surrounded, alone, and pirates are sneering in your face?

One of them laughs, “They mute or just stupid?”

Six arms bloom from the stone walls and grab all of them by the throat.

Robin walks up, smiling politely.

“It seems you’re the stupid ones.”

She looks to you and tilts her head.

“Would you like me to break their arms or their egos?”

You murmur a single word

“Egos.”

She smiles wider.

Later, you slip her a note with a tiny sketch of her stepping on the pirate’s face. She folds it into her book like a pressed flower.

🔧 Franky

Thought you were just “cool and mysterious” at first—didn’t realize your silence was tied to selective mutism

When he does figure it out? Immediate SUPER™ respect

Doesn’t try to make you talk—just makes sure you always feel welcome in the workshop

Builds you custom tools or a gadget to help if you want to communicate in crowded places—only if you’re into it

“You don’t gotta say a thing, dude. You just being here is already awesome!”

Treats your rare spoken words like a backstage VIP pass

Will absolutely body block anyone who corners you or tries to force you to speak

If someone mocks you? Cue cyborg intimidation mode

“Real strength ain’t about talkin’. It’s about doin’. And you? You’ve got that in spades.”

Loves hearing you whisper in his ear in public.

Instantly salutes.

“COMMAND RECEIVED!!”

Thinks your silence adds mystery and badassery—he’s kind of obsessed tbh

“You’re like… like a silent laser beam! Precise! Lethal! SUPER!!”

🌊 Jinbe

Understands immediately—doesn’t need an explanation

Has deep emotional intelligence and respects boundaries like a king

Offers quiet companionship when you need it, never pressuring conversation

Has an entire repertoire of gentle nods and thoughtful glances for when words aren’t needed

If you whisper to him, he leans in with the patience of a mountain

“You do not need to speak to be heard.”

Would stand calmly beside you if you're being antagonized—silent, unmoving, radiating “Try me.” energy

If someone pushes you to talk? He won’t raise his voice—but he will command the entire room’s attention

“If your ears are so desperate for sound, perhaps you should listen to your own foolishness.”

He believes your silence holds weight—calls it “the stillness before a wave”

Deeply respects how you fight without words—calls it “an elegant form of strength”

Makes sure the crew understands your boundaries without ever making a fuss of it

Absolute guardian energy, with the soul of a poet

🎻 Brook

Surprisingly intuitive about your silence despite being loud himself

Doesn’t ask invasive questions—just rolls with it, happily filling silences with songs or stories

Makes gentle jokes to ease tension but always watches your cues

“Ah, you didn’t laugh out loud, but I saw that smile! Yohohoho!”

If you whisper something in public? Dramatic swoon every time

“A private word?! For me?! Oh my heart—wait, I don’t have one!! Yohoho!”

He absolutely writes songs about you—like full orchestral ballads of silent bravery

Believes your silence is poetic and meaningful

“Some voices are loudest without sound.”

If someone antagonizes you? Brook’s polite tone goes cold

“Your disrespect will not go unnoticed, even by one without eyes.”

cue chill-inducing violin chord

Protects you through unexpected intimidation—he’s goofy until he isn’t

Thinks your energy is ghostly and powerful in a way he deeply respects

Refers to you as “the whisper between storms” in one of his songs

🧸 Chopper

Soooo gentle and sweet with you from day one

Was nervous at first like

“Did I do something wrong? Why don’t they talk to me?”

But once he understands, he’s all in: brings you tea, sits nearby while you write, never pressures you

“You don’t have to talk. I still know you like me, right?”

Will make you little cue cards or cute picture communication tools if you want help in public

If you whisper to him, he melts.

“AHHH THEY TALKED TO ME! I MEAN—I’M COOL. I’M NORMAL.”

If someone bullies you or gets pushy?

Normally sweet Chopper goes feral mode

“BACK OFF! YOU DON’T GET TO DECIDE HOW THEY TALK!”

Will patch you up after fights and praise how you held your own, even without words

“You’re one of the strongest people I know… You don’t even need a voice to be amazing!”

Lowkey keeps a medical log of when you speak or interact more—only to make sure you’re doing okay mentally

Feels extra close to you because you both were misunderstood at first

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

You were only gone five minutes.

Five minutes to run down the street and grab new ink, maybe peek into the bookstore. Five minutes away from the crew.

Apparently, that was enough.

They came out of nowhere—half a dozen rough-looking pirates, loud and posturing. One of them stepped in front of you as you turned to leave.

"Oi, sweetheart. Why so quiet?"

You didn’t respond.

"Too good to talk to us?" "Or maybe you think you're better?" "C’mon, just say hi." "We don’t bite… much.”

They leaned in. Circling. Testing.

You stared them down, face flat, spine straight, hand hovering near your weapon—but still, you said nothing. You didn’t owe them a damn word.

And that’s when the sound of boots hit the street behind you.

Not loud. Not rushed. But deliberate.

Zoro was the first. Leaning against the alley wall like he’d been there the whole time. He didn’t draw a sword. He didn’t need to.

Sanji stepped up next, cracking his knuckles with a smile that didn't touch his eyes. Smoke curled from the edge of his lips.

Nami lingered behind them, arms crossed, watching. Sharp gaze narrowed. Robin’s shadow moved just beside hers—subtle, but present. You could feel it.

And then there was Luffy.

No drama. No yelling. He just appeared beside you, hands in his pockets, staring straight at the loudest one.

They all paused, instincts kicking in. A shift in the air.

“…This your crew?” one of them asked, voice suddenly less cocky.

You leaned in close to Luffy’s ear, barely a breath.

"I didn’t need help."

He grinned. "I know."

Silence again. Until he tilted his head, smile gone now.

"I just didn’t like the way they talked to you."

That was it.

That was all it took.

The men backed off. Fast. No fight. Just the weight of the crew’s presence and Luffy’s quiet fury pressing down on them like a stormcloud. They knew better.

As they vanished down the street, Luffy turned to you, still smiling—loose and easy like nothing had happened.

You sighed and bumped your shoulder against his in thanks. He bumped back.

Zoro huffed a quiet breath, like he’d been hoping for action. Sanji smoothed his jacket, still glaring at the retreating pirates. Chopper poked your arm, worried, but you just gave him a nod.

The crew didn’t make a big deal of it.

No lectures. No questions.

Just a warm space carved out around you.

Safe. Quiet. Yours.

Because you didn’t need words for them to hear you.

And they didn’t need words to say “We’ve got your back.”

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

[missmaymay13]

dont forget me - l.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

l.hughes x fem!oc | TEASER

summary: Years after leaving Michigan—and her—behind, Luke Hughes is living the NHL dream. But when a familiar voice comes through the radio, singing the last words she ever said to him, he’s thrown back into a world of late-night rehearsals, unspoken promises, and a love they never got to finish. Maggie Sommers was once his melody, and now she’s everywhere. All he can do is remember—and hope she hasn’t forgotten. -based on the song by maggie rogers

a/n: hi guyssss... i was so excited with how this story has been going, i decided to give you a teaser!!! expect the full version to come out in the next few days!!

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The rain hadn’t let up all morning. It dripped in steady patterns down the windshield, like the sky was mourning something too, and maybe Luke Hughes found a little comfort in that. Silence stretched between him and Jack as they weaved through downtown traffic, the early grey of a Jersey morning casting the world in a dull, wet light.

Luke leaned his forehead against the cool window, hoodie drawn up, his eyes half-lidded. The kind of tired that wasn't about sleep. The kind of tired that lived in your chest.

Jack hummed to himself from the driver’s seat, fingers drumming the steering wheel. "Devils practice at eight and you're already acting like we lost the cup," he joked lightly, glancing sideways.

Luke didn’t answer.

The radio, left low and forgotten in the background, crackled as the static faded into a soft guitar intro. A voice spilled through the speakers a second later—

"Take my money, wreck my Sundays, love me 'til your next somebody..."

Luke blinked.

"Oh but promise me that when it's time to leave... don't forget me, don't forget me."

His whole body stilled.

It was like someone had grabbed the air from the car and twisted it, squeezing the breath from his lungs. That voice. That voice. He would know it anywhere—even wrapped in reverb and studio polish, even if it had been years. There were ghosts in that voice. Every word she sang pulled at an old wound that never quite closed.

He sat up straight, the seatbelt tugging across his chest. His fingers curled into fists in his lap.

Maggie.

Jack tilted his head. "That voice sounds familiar. Doesn’t it?"

Luke didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

He nodded, barely.

Jack kept talking, something about how maybe she was local or new or something, but Luke wasn’t listening. The rain hit harder now, a heavy percussion on the roof. Maggie’s voice echoed through the small cabin of the car, and it didn’t feel like music. It felt like memory.

It had been years. Years since Michigan, years since that rainy October night when she said those exact words to him. Not in a song. Just in a whisper, voice breaking, eyes glassy, back turned toward the door she never wanted to walk out of.

Don't forget me.

He thought he had done the right thing. He thought letting her go meant protecting her from the chaos of his life, from the spotlight, the moving cities, the uncertainty. But hearing her now? She hadn’t forgotten. Not him. Not them. Not the promises they never got to keep.

And fuck, maybe he hadn’t either.

She sounded older. Fuller. Like she had lived a few more lives since then. But the pain in her voice—that ache underneath every note? That hadn’t changed.

Neither had the way it ripped him apart.

Jack turned the volume up a little, oblivious.

Luke closed his eyes.

Time folded in on itself. It wasn’t 2025. It wasn’t New Jersey. It wasn’t his NHL career and postgame interviews and life in a high-rise downtown.

It was fall in Ann Arbor. It was late nights in the music building with Maggie singing half-finished lyrics and laughing when her voice cracked. It was hands held under cafeteria tables, sweaters traded back and forth, the quiet knowledge that what they had might not last but God, it was real.

And now she was singing on the radio.

And Luke Hughes was remembering everything.

The sound faded into a commercial, and Luke stayed quiet. Jack reached for the dial.

"That was 'Don't Forget Me' by breakout artist Maggie Sommers," the DJ announced. "Word is she wrote it about someone she knew in college. Brutal, right?"

Luke swallowed hard. His chest felt like it was caving in. He didn’t need the reminder.

He had never forgotten her.

He never could.

[pukefactory]

froggy dating hcs?

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ PATH TO WEIRD LOVE ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

𖠊 Summary: A Compilation Of Dating Headcanons Featuring Froggy X Reader

𖠊 Character(s): Froggy (Ena: Dream BBQ)

𖠊 Genre: Headcanons, SFW

𖠊 Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

𖠊 Image Credits: @JoelG

˗ˏˋ The first time Froggy confessed to you, it was absolutely not romantic. He stormed into the breakroom with a paper cup of suspicious vending machine coffee and yelled, “OKAY, LISTEN! I LIKE YOU. YOU’RE STRANGELY TOLERABLE FOR A BUFFOON. WANNA DATE?!” Then he dropped the cup, burned his foot, and limped away shouting something about horoscopes and intestinal fate. You didn’t even get a chance to answer—he showed up the next day acting like it was already established, calling you his “little work assistant” and pretending he hadn’t cried into a riceball over it.

˗ˏˋ He constantly leaves you absolutely bewildering voice memos. One day it’s “Hey, sweetheart! I dreamed you were a giant shrimp last night. I was a lemon wedge. Romantic, right?” Another day it’s just thirty seconds of him wheezing from running, followed by, “I ran into a wall. I think I cracked my spine. Anyway, lunch?”

˗ˏˋ Froggy has exactly one love language and it is boisterous yelling and panicked devotion. You trip on a stair? He is already screaming at the floor architect. You’re late to lunch? “WHAT IF YOU FELL INTO A DIMENSIONAL PIT?!” You sneeze? He’s throwing three packets of soup at you and demanding you sit still while he incorrectly reads your horoscope and tries to decode which cold remedy works best for “lovesick, elegant types.”

˗ˏˋ He’s not great at physical affection, but he tries. He’ll hold your hand while narrating loudly to passersby: “DON’T LOOK TOO LONG, CITIZENS! THIS IS ROMANCE—A PRIVATE AFFAIR FOR PROFESSIONALS ONLY!” Hugs are brief, full-body crashes that leave you both dazed and covered in lint from his frog suit. Kisses? Rare. But when he does go for it, he misses by like two inches and then yells, “AHH! FORGET YOU SAW THAT. I WAS AIMING FOR YOUR SOUL!”

˗ˏˋ You are his emergency contact. He made it official on a sticky note. It says: My little work assistant: My Most Trusted Beloved Idiot. Relationship: Life Partner (Probably). Special Instructions: If I am dying, give them my frog suit. Tell them I love them. Do NOT let Ena plan the funeral. She’ll make it weird.

˗ˏˋ Every time you talk about breaking up (even jokingly), he becomes unhinged. “OH? OH?? So you’re saying you’d leave behind this? This dazzling specimen of emotional fragility? You’d abandon a man with getas so shiny?!” You have to hug him for a solid five minutes while he fake-sobs and dramatically vows to win you back with “romantic competency training” from suspicious magazines.

˗ˏˋ He gets jealous… but not like a normal person. One time you complimented the Receptionist’s voice, and Froggy showed up an hour later with a kazoo. “Do you like this better?! Am I not velvety enough for you?! I CAN HUM ALL DAY!” He hums so hard he gets dizzy. You have to hold him upright and tell him he’s “the loudest kazoo of your heart” just to calm him down.

˗ˏˋ He absolutely cannot cook. At all. But he insists on making you lunch. You open the box and find: a raw potato, three unwrapped cough drops, a napkin that says “I LOVE YOU (PROFESSIONALLY)” in crayon, and what might be a fried mushroom. “I made it with care. Don’t eat it though. I think it’s poisonous.”

˗ˏˋ When you’re sad, he goes silent. Which, for Froggy, is devastating. You know something’s wrong when he just sits beside you, looking down, fidgeting with his frog hat. Then he blurts out some nonsense like, “If sadness were a boss, I’d punch it for you. Or maybe file a complaint. I love you, okay? You’re allowed to take breaks. Even from happiness.” It never makes perfect sense, but it always makes you feel better.

˗ˏˋ He tries to plan romantic dates like he’s preparing for a boss battle. You’ll arrive to find a hand-drawn map with labeled points like “MAKE THEM LAUGH ZONE” and “FLOWER-FLINGING AREA,” followed by “CONFESSION PIT (DO NOT FALL IN).” The map is terrible. The flower-flinging zone is just a trash can full of petals. But the moment he grabs your hand and nervously says, “Ehh…let’s walk this whole stupid map together,”—You realize you wouldn’t trade this ridiculous, loudmouthed frog-man for anything.

[hotchner-sweetgirl]

DANDELIONS. S.REID

FemOC!reader X Spencer Reid

FemOc!reader : Small background : Small age gap with Spencer and you . You are smart beautiful, I imagined you having wavy , brown hair your shorter then Spencer . You’re like a breath of fresh air since you joined the team, you remind Spencer of spring . You’re witty , kind, you love reading books , you listen to Sabrina carpenter on repeat hehe . You in Spencer have been secretlydating for the past month .

SUMMARY— You JJ & Hotch end up in the hospital after a high speed chase with the unsub it was hit in run… .. Warnings : hurt comfort , trauma , based off nightmare I had . Spencer is worried about you after he in Garcia got the call , you are banged up little , Hotch in JJ are completely fine maybe few cuts in bruises no use of your name . : Wc 2.5k not really proof read because I’m not feeling well , in who has the time for that ..

Author notes : In honor of my new theme which I’m absolutely in love with right now I adore this new theme it’s so pretty in I haven’t seen this color for spring being done yet … eek a little trauma Angst hurt comfort for you .. I hope you enjoyed this with my new theme layout . If you did could you consider liking reblog in comment… if I missed anything please let me know .

Tags : @ssamorganhotchner

Prompt— “Yeah, I'm her husband," Spencer said calmly, answering the doctor's barrage of questions.

Garcia glanced at him, surprised. It was a lie—something Spencer had never done before. But he had to. He needed answers.

When the doctor finally left the room with a promise to return shortly, Spencer turned to Garcia and said quietly, "In order to get the information, I had to tell them I was her husband."

The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor hummed overhead, too bright for how dark the night felt. Garcia’s heels echoed down the sterile hallway, her pace quick to match Spencer’s longer strides.

“Emily said three of them,” Garcia murmured, eyes scanning. “Three. That’s too many. That’s way too many.”

Spencer didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets to keep from shaking. Emily’s voice had been steady on the phone, but there had been something in it—tight, measured. Controlled panic.

He spotted her first. Emily stood near the nurses' station, talking in a low voice to someone in a white coat.

“Over here,” she said as they approached.

“Where are they?” Spencer asked. He hated how harsh his voice came out.

“They’re stabilizing Hotch and JJ—she’s got a broken arm and a concussion, he’s bruised but conscious. You—” Emily hesitated. “You’re worse. They rushed you into trauma. They’re running scans.”

Spencer didn’t wait to hear the rest. He stepped past Emily, toward the direction she’d nodded. Garcia grabbed his sleeve. “Spence—wait. Maybe let me—”

But he was already gone.

The doctor was young. Calm face. Too calm. Spencer caught up to him near the swinging double doors.

“The woman just brought in from the hit and run. I need to know what’s going on.”

“And you are?” the doctor asked, brow lifting.

Something in Spencer snapped into place—an instinct, precise and immediate. “Yeah. I’m her husband.”

Garcia, just behind him, froze. “What?”

Spencer didn’t look at her. His gaze stayed locked with the doctor’s.

The doctor’s tone shifted immediately. “I see. She’s in stable condition for now—mild internal bleeding, likely from the impact, but we're monitoring it. We’re waiting on imaging. If it doesn’t worsen, we can avoid surgery. But if it does…”

He trailed off, letting the unspoken settle heavily between them.

“I want to see her,” Spencer said.

The doctor nodded. “Soon. I’ll be back.”

The second the door clicked shut behind him, Garcia grabbed his arm. “Okay. You—lied. You lied to a medical professional.”

“In order to get the information,” Spencer said quietly, “I had to tell them I was her husband.”

Garcia stared at him. “You’ve never lied. Not even when we all lie. And now you’re doing it in a hospital?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Emily came around the corner, holding your jacket. “She asked for you when they got her out of the ambulance. Just so you know.”

Spencer took it in his hands, fingers curling around the worn denim. It smelled like your perfume—something soft and warm. Something safe.

“What room?” he asked.

“Room 212,” Emily said gently.

He didn’t wait.

When he pushed the door open, the beeping of machines filled the room in a steady rhythm. You looked pale. A deep gash ran across your forehead, already stitched. One hand was wrapped in gauze, the other resting on the thin blanket.

Spencer sat in the chair beside you, silent, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. You stirred a moment later, eyelids fluttering.

“Spence?” Your voice was hoarse.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m here.”

You blinked at him, disoriented. “What happened?”

“You’re okay. The unsub rammed you guys. JJ and Hotch are banged up, but you took the worst of it.”

Your hand shifted toward his. He took it.

“You told them you were my husband?” you asked, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a sheepish, lopsided shrug. “I panicked.”

You laughed, a soft, breathy sound that made something in his chest unclench. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.”

“First time for everything,” he murmured.

Garcia peeked in from the hallway, waving with two fingers before stepping back. She’d give you privacy. Emily already had.

Spencer leaned back in the chair, your hand still in his. The lie didn’t matter. Not right now. Not when he nearly lost you.

Not when it felt more like a promise than a lie.

Derek had finally made it to the hospital, storming through the sliding doors like he was ready to square up with someone. Emily spotted him first, standing off to the side with Rossi near the nurses' station.

“What the hell happened?” Derek asked, eyes sharp as he scanned the busy ER, tension radiating off him.

Emily sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Hit and run. The unsub clipped the SUV—hard. Flipped it twice.”

“Jesus,” Derek muttered. “Who was inside?”

“JJ, Hotch, and…” Her voice faltered for just a second. “Her.”

Derek’s expression changed instantly. “How are they?”

“JJ’s got a broken arm and a concussion. Hotch is bruised up. She’s the one they rushed into trauma.” Emily didn’t say more, didn’t need to. The weight behind her words said enough.

He let out a breath, jaw flexing. “Where’s the kid? He should be here.”

“He’s in his wife’s room,” Garcia said from behind him, trying to keep her voice light.

Derek blinked. “Huh?”

“It’s nothing,” Garcia rushed, waving a hand.

“It’s clearly something,” Derek said, eyebrows raised as he looked between them. “Did Reid get married and forget to tell the class?”

Emily gave Garcia a look, the kind that silently begged her not to elaborate.

Spencer walked into the waiting area right then, hands shoved in his coat pockets, eyes dark with exhaustion. He paused when he saw Derek.

“What’s this I hear about you and her being married?” Derek asked, stepping in front of him.

Spencer hesitated for a breath. “It’s just for now.”

Derek grinned. “My man.”

Spencer blinked, confused. “It was only so the doctor would tell me what was going on.”

“Sure,” Derek said, clearly not buying it but letting it slide. “Still. Good instincts.”

Garcia leaned in closer, teasing. “I think you might’ve said that a little too fast to be just instinct.”

Spencer looked down, lips twitching at the corners like he wanted to argue but knew he wouldn’t win.

“I told her I’d be back,” he said quietly, already turning back toward your room.

Garcia watched him go, her smile fading into something softer. “He didn’t even hesitate, you know? Lied without blinking.”

“Reid?” Derek looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” Garcia said. “Didn’t even flinch.”

The minutes passed in a quiet shuffle—JJ and Hotch returned with softer faces, JJ wiping under her eyes, Hotch giving Spencer a small nod as he stepped out of the room.

“She’s asking for the rest of you,” he said simply.

Emily and Rossi were next, disappearing into your room without a word. Spencer stayed by the door this time, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on the floor like he was somewhere else entirely.

When they came back, Emily gave Spencer a small smile and squeezed his shoulder on the way by. Rossi didn’t say much—he didn’t need to.

“I’m next,” Derek said, standing.

Garcia stood too. “I’m coming with you.”

Spencer looked up. “She’s still a little out of it.”

Garcia gave him that look—the one that said she knew exactly how you were feeling even without seeing you. “She’s not gonna say no to me, and you know it.”

“She’s right,” Derek added, clapping Spencer on the back as they walked past. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep me from cracking jokes.”

The hallway was quiet as they reached your door. Garcia pushed it open gently, peeking her head in first before stepping inside.

You stirred at the sound, blinking slowly, still foggy from the meds. But when your eyes landed on them, you smiled.

“Hey, babygirl,” Derek said, stepping in beside your bed, voice soft but warm.

“Hey, you,” you mumbled.

Garcia was already at your side, fingers carefully finding your hand between the wires and gauze. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she said, tears in her eyes but her smile full of sunshine. “You scared the hell out of us.”

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” you whispered.

Derek let out a low laugh, brushing a knuckle against your arm. “Still. That was way too close.”

You glanced at Garcia, then back at Derek. “Everyone else okay?”

“They’re good,” Garcia said gently. “JJ’s got a busted arm, and Hotch is walking around like he didn’t just flip an SUV.”

Derek leaned in just a little. “And Reid’s out there pacing like a guy whose world almost came crashing down.”

You smiled faintly. “He told the doctor he was my husband.”

Garcia gave a dramatic gasp. “He did. And didn’t even flinch.”

You laughed—soft, breathy, but real.

“Rest up,” Derek said, straightening. “We’ll be back tomorrow with cookies and a very dramatic telling of everything you missed.”

Garcia kissed your forehead gently. “And I’ll bring the good gossip.”

They both started to leave, but not before Garcia turned back toward the door. “You ready, Doctor Husband?” she called softly.

Spencer was already walking down the hallway.

Spencer had stopped at the gift shop before heading back to your room. He didn’t even think twice—just picked out a few of your favorite snacks, a small teddy bear, and a bouquet of yellow dandelions.

The dandelions weren’t the flashiest flowers in the shop, but he knew you’d like them.

You always said they reminded you of spring and being a kid and not caring what anyone thought.

When he stepped into your hospital room, it was quiet—lights dimmed, the steady beeping of the monitor soft in the background.

You were asleep.

The doctor was just stepping out as Spencer came in. “She might be out for a while,” he said gently. “You’re welcome to stay.”

“Right. Thanks again,” Spencer replied, adjusting the flowers in his arm.

The doctor gave a nod and left him alone.

He set the snacks carefully on the little table by the bed, the teddy bear beside them. The dandelions went in the water pitcher—makeshift vase, but it worked.

Spencer pulled the chair closer and sat down beside you.

He studied your face for a long moment, quiet, just watching the way your chest rose and fell under the blanket. The way the bruises were already beginning to color along your cheekbone. The bandage near your hairline. His hands stayed folded in his lap.

“I could’ve lost you today,” he said softly, almost like it wasn’t meant to be spoken out loud.

You didn’t stir. You were deep asleep—peaceful, finally—but Spencer kept talking anyway.

“If I would’ve lost you…” he stopped, let the words sit in his throat for a beat. “I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

His fingers curled slightly, knuckles white for a second. He swallowed.

“We just started seeing each other. It’s only been a month, but it already feels like I’ve known you longer. I need more time with you. Way more.”

His voice cracked just slightly near the end, the kind of break someone like him wouldn’t let most people hear.

“I’m not good at this part,” he added, quieter now. “Saying things when you’re awake is harder.”

You didn’t respond. Still asleep. But Spencer didn’t mind. He just sat there, holding your hand gently in his, like letting go might make everything real.

Outside the door, the hallway buzzed with nurses and machines and movement—but in that room, it was just the two of you.

Morning sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting soft lines across the hospital room. The quiet hum of machines filled the space, steady now. Peaceful.

The doctor had already come through for his early rounds. Everything was stable. You were doing a hell of a lot better than when they rushed you in the night before.

You blinked awake slowly, eyes adjusting to the light. Your body was stiff, sore in a way that made everything feel distant and heavy. But then you turned your head—and saw him.

Spencer was asleep in the chair next to you, slouched slightly, arms folded, head resting against the back of the chair. He looked exhausted. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks, not just hours.

“Spence,” you said, your voice still rough from sleep. You rubbed your eyes and stretched out as much as the IV and soreness would allow. “I’m thirsty.”

You paused, lips dry. “And breakfast sounds good... but maybe we should talk about what happened.”

He stirred at your voice, blinking awake slowly. When his eyes met yours, they softened instantly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re awake,” he said, like the weight of the entire world had just dropped off his shoulders.

The nurse came in right on cue, carrying a small cup of pills and a little container of orange juice. “Morning,” she said, chipper. “Let’s get these meds in you, then we’ll talk breakfast.”

You took the juice and pills, offering a quiet, “Thank you.”

She checked your chart and the monitors, jotting a few things down. “How are we feeling today?”

“Still sore,” you admitted, stretching again carefully, “but a lot better.”

“Good,” she said with a smile. “Everything’s looking great on our end, so you’ll most likely be discharged in an hour.”

“Really?” you asked, eyebrows lifting.

She nodded. “Let’s just keep you on fluids a little longer and go from there.”

“Thanks,” you said, genuinely. She gave a friendly nod and slipped out, leaving you and Spencer alone again.

You turned your head toward him, voice softer now. “Thank you... for staying with me.”

Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A beat passed.

You took a breath. “We should talk about what happened.”

He nodded, didn’t interrupt.

“It all happened so fast,” you said, eyes drifting slightly as you reached for the memory. “We were chasing the unsub... and the next thing I remember is the SUV flipping. Twice.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered. He hadn’t heard you say it out loud yet.

“I blacked out,” you continued. “I didn’t even see it coming.”

He reached for your hand without thinking, his fingers curling gently around yours. “Emily said it looked intentional. The unsub clipped the back of your vehicle—hard.”

“That explains the headache,” you murmured, trying to keep it light, but your fingers tightened slightly around his. “I heard you told the doctor you were my husband.”

His ears turned a little pink. “I needed to know what was happening. They weren’t going to tell me otherwise.”

You smiled faintly. “You didn’t hesitate?”

“Not for a second,” he said.

You nodded slowly, then looked down at your intertwined hands. “Good.”

The team had made their way back to the hospital, but before anyone could speak, Garcia practically burst through the door.

"Let me tell her, please! Let me tell her we got the scum," she pleaded, her excitement bubbling over.

The team glanced at each other, exchanging a few silent looks. Spencer gave a slight nod, signaling that Garcia could take the reins. He stepped back to give you space, his expression soft but still tinged with worry.

"Spencer..." Garcia said, her voice suddenly more serious as she stepped fully into the room. "I need to tell you something."

He gave her an understanding look. "Go ahead."

With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving you and Garcia alone.

She walked in with a wide smile. "Hey, my sweets," she said brightly, pulling you into a gentle hug. You winced slightly, the soreness still settling in your muscles, but you smiled through it.

"Hey, Garcia," you said, your voice hoarse from the medication. "I'm starving."

She laughed, pulling out a candy bar from her bag and handing it to you. "Thought you might be." You gratefully took it, unwrapping it as she sat beside you.

You looked at her, a sense of curiosity already building. "So, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to tell me something serious."

Garcia’s smile turned into a grin, but there was a certain weight in her eyes now. "We caught the scum," she said, her voice almost reverent.

You exhaled sharply, as if you'd been holding your breath all night. The tension you hadn't realized was there seemed to melt away, and you finally felt like you could breathe again. "Really?" you asked, voice shaky but full of relief.

"Yes, really," Garcia said with confidence. "We got him."

Before you could say anything more, there was a knock on the door. Hotch stepped in, his presence steady and reassuring. "You ready to come home?" he asked, his voice calm but warm.

You nodded quickly. "Yes."

"Good," Hotch said. "We can get you outta here. You just have to sign the discharge papers, then we can head out."

As he spoke, the doctor walked in with the paperwork, handing it to you with a friendly nod. "We just need your signature here and here," he said, gesturing to the form.

You signed without hesitation, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. You were finally going home. Safe. And sound .

The team gave you space after everything—quiet smiles, quick hugs, and a promise to see you back at the BAU when you were ready. One by one, they stepped out, leaving the room quiet again.

Just you and Spencer.

He helped you out of the bed gently, careful with every move like you might break. His hands hovered just enough, but still steady when you needed him.

You looked up at him, your voice soft. “Spence… I heard you last night.”

His eyes met yours quickly, caught off guard. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “Right… I—um…”

You reached out, gently touching his arm. “It’s okay, Spence,” you whispered. “I feel the same way.”

His expression shifted, something soft settling into his features. That tension he always carried—like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders—seemed to ease just a little.

“I’m thankful,” you said, still holding his gaze. “I’m glad I’m still here. It felt like we were just starting to really connect, and then—” you paused, your voice dipping with emotion, “—and with you being my husband and all…”

He laughed, breath catching in that familiar quiet Reid way. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” you said with a small smile, the kind that reached your eyes even through the bruises and soreness.

He looked at you like he was memorizing the moment.

“Good,” he finally said. “Because I meant it.”

[lilbluustar]

anton's random scenarios

anton carrying their relationship in everyday life, how it would be? the day to day, his hugs, his shyness attacks, among other things...

not much to say... just that I love him too much and that he inspires me to write beautiful things :')

⋆when you make him jealous without realizing it

anton isn't the type to make a scene, but when he's jealous… it's all too obvious.

you're talking about an actor you think is cute and suddenly he stops eating and looks at you with a frown.

“do you really like him that much?”

you, not noticing anything: “well, yes, he's attractive.”

he nods slowly, but his jaw tenses and he starts playing with his hands, clearly uncomfortable.

“well… i guess it's okay.” he says, but no longer touches his food.

and you notice and explode with tenderness because he DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO HIDE IT.

"anton, are you jealous?”

“no, not at all.”

but his gaze drops, his little face looks sad and YOU FEEL THE WORST FOR MAKING THIS BABY SUFFER😭💘

so you hug him and say, “you're the only one i like”

and in a second his expression changes, he lights up and smiles happily, like he was never jealous in the first place.

⋆ when you say “i love you” for the first time.

anton is one of those who feels a lot, but doesn't quite know how to express it.

so when you say “i love you” to him first, he's shocked. literally, his eyes get big, his mouth opens just a little bit and he doesn't know what to do.

“what… what did you say?” he asks, as if he needs to make sure he heard you right.

“i love you, silly.” you repeat, laughing.

and there you have it, all red, with a huge grin but not knowing how to react.

finally, after a few seconds of mental collapse, he just hugs you tight and buries his face in your neck.

“i love you too… very much.” he murmurs, and his voice trembles a little bit because he really feels it.

and you there, knowing that this is the best moment of your life.

⋆when he sings you a song that he wrote for you.

anton doesn't tell you directly, but every time he composes something, he does it with you in mind.

one day, you're listening to a new tune he's playing on his guitar, and you're struck by how beautiful it is.

“what's it called?” you ask.

he hesitates a bit and scratches the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“it doesn't have a name yet…”

but then you notice that the lyrics describe things that have happened between you: the way you laugh, the way you look at him, the moments you've shared.

“anton… is it about me?”

and he, already completely red, just lowers his head and mumbles:

“maybe.”

AND YOU THERE, WANTING TO CRY BECAUSE THIS MAN LOVES YOU TOO MUCH.

⋆when he hugs you in the early morning because he is afraid of losing you.

it's an ordinary night, you're lying together, when suddenly anton moves and hugs you tighter than usual.

“anton? is something wrong?” you ask, sleepily.

he sighs and buries his face in your hair, as if he needs to feel you closer.

“nothing… i just dreamed i lost you.” he murmurs.

his voice sounds soft, vulnerable, as if he has really felt that fear in his heart.

so you stroke his hair and tell him you'll never leave.

and he hugs you even tighter, saying nothing, but his breathing gets calmer little by little.

because anton loves you too much to imagine a life without you.

⋆when he gets tender without realizing it.

you're in a cafe, each of you in your own world, you on your phone and him reading something on his laptop.

but suddenly, for no apparent reason, Anton leans over and gently kisses your forehead.

you look at him, surprised.

“what was that for?” you ask.

he shrugs with a shy smile.

“i don't know… i just felt like it.”

AND THAT'S IT. YOU'RE GONE. THERE'S NO WAY BACK

⋆when he gives you his sweatshirt and it smells like him.

you're cold and anton, without a second thought, takes off his sweatshirt and puts it on you.

“here, i don't want you to get sick.”

the sweatshirt is huge, warm and smells like him.

You hug it and say, “smells good.”

and anton, laughing nervously, “of course, it smells like me.”

and you can only think about how it's possible for someone to be so PERFECT.

⋆when you fall in love more than you thought you would.

one day, anton is quietly watching you while you're talking excitedly about something.

you don't even realize it, but he's there, looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

until he suddenly sighs and says, softly:

“god… i'm really in love with you.”

and you there, stopping dead in your tracks because YOU DIDN'T EXPECT IT.

“anton?”

he laughs, a little embarrassed, but takes your hand and squeezes it gently.

“nothing… just sometimes I can't believe you're mine.”

AND THEN YOU DIE. BECAUSE ANTON, PLEASE LET US BREATHE.

anton is the most precious, tender and perfect boyfriend that can exist.

he's effortlessly detailed.

his jealousy is the cutest thing in the world.

he looks at you like you're the best thing that ever happened to him.

and on top of that he is a NATURAL ROMANTIC.

[lowrisemiller]

joel, come on

old man!rancher!joel miller x fem!reader smut

one-shot based on lana del rey’s new song: henry, come on / porn&plot / 1.2k words / more /

The summer you moved in, the cicadas sang like they were mourning something lost. Not that anything was. Not yet.

The ranch belonged to Joel Miller—a man weathered and wordless, with shoulders built from years of hauling feed and heartbreak. You’d heard stories in town: he used to work construction, raised a daughter alone, lost his brother in a way no one really talked about. They said he didn’t let people close, but he had kind eyes if you caught them in the right light.

You didn’t come with much—just two suitcases and a restlessness you couldn’t shake. Your parents had passed quiet and quick the winter before, and their old farmhouse had been swallowed by banks and bureaucracy. Joel, a family friend of your father’s, offered you the spare room over the barn, said you could help out around the place if you wanted. Or not. Up to you.

You said yes before you had time to think better of it.

The mornings were golden and still. Joel would already be out in the fields when you slipped on your denim shorts and made coffee in his too-quiet kitchen. You didn’t talk much at first. Just side glances. A nod when you handed him his mug. A look when he wiped sweat from his neck with a bandana and caught you watching.

You were twenty-two. He was somewhere past forty. You told yourself it was just the sun making you feel warm like that.

One night, you were curled on the porch swing, legs tucked up, listening to the cicadas and humming Lana Del Rey under your breath.

“And I love you, Henry, come on…”

Joel stepped out with a beer in hand, sat in the creaky rocking chair beside you.

“You always singin’?” he asked, voice low and gravel-edged.

“Only when I’m not trying to,” you smiled, not looking at him.

He didn’t say anything else, but you could feel his eyes on you, soft and searching.

By late July, you’d learned the rhythm of the ranch: feed, water, mend, rest. The nights stretched long and full of things unsaid. You started eating dinners together—silent, but comfortable. Joel taught you how to ride his old horse, how to ride without pulling on the reins too hard. You painted the chicken coop white just to have something to do, and he grumbled about it being unnecessary but didn’t stop you.

Sometimes you’d find him in the barn, fixing a fence board or oiling tack, and you’d lean against the doorway and talk nonsense just to fill the air. He’d listen with his arms crossed, a little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You tried not to hope. You tried.

One evening, a storm rolled in fast and heavy. The power flickered and died. You lit candles while Joel made a fire, the air thick with something unspoken.

He poured you a whiskey, handed it over without meeting your eyes.

“You regret coming here?” he asked, finally.

You blinked. “Why would I?”

He looked at you like he wanted to say a hundred things but settled on just one.

“‘Cause I ain’t the kind of man girls like you write songs about.”

Your heart fluttered like a moth at the edge of a flame. You stood and walked to him, slowly, unsure until you were standing toe-to-toe.

“I don’t want songs,” you said softly. “I want you.”

His breath hitched. And then he kissed you—rough and trembling, like he didn’t quite believe it was real.

After that, things changed.

Not all at once. Not loudly.

You still made his coffee. He still grumbled about the damn chickens. But now he touched you—light at first, a hand on the small of your back, fingers brushing yours when you passed the salt. You spent more nights in his bed than your own, limbs tangled beneath worn quilts, his arm slung around your waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when you sang Lana Del Rey on the porch, Joel didn’t just listen.

He leaned back, eyes closed, lips parting like a man finally letting go.

“I’m bad, but I’m not that bad…”

It wasn’t perfect. Joel got scared sometimes. Pulled back. Said you were too young, said you had your whole life ahead of you.

But you’d just smile, press a kiss to his shoulder, and whisper, “Joel, come on.”

And somehow, that was always enough to bring him back.

The rain started again.

Late August, and the sky opened up like it had something to say. You’d been in the garden barefoot, dress sticking to your thighs, hair curling from the heat, when the first drops came. By the time Joel came out to call you in, you were already soaked through, laughing and twirling like you were part of the storm itself.

“You’re gonna catch cold,” he said, voice taut, but his eyes… God, his eyes.

You ran up to the porch, wet footsteps tapping over the wood, and stood right in front of him—chest heaving, dress clinging to every inch of you, rain dripping off your lashes.

“I’m fine,” you said, breathless. “You gonna keep staring or help me dry off?”

Joel’s jaw tightened. You saw the moment his restraint cracked. Like an old fence post finally giving in to the wind.

His hands found your hips, pulled you in—fast, greedy—and kissed you like he’d been holding back for years. You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in the collar of his flannel as he backed you against the wall, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

“I’ve been tryin’ to be good,” he muttered against your throat, voice rough and full of want.

You tugged his shirt from his jeans. “I don’t want good. I want you.”

He groaned, low and deep, and lifted you like it was nothing. Carried you inside, straight to the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of rain and desperation.

Your dress hit the floor first.

Then his shirt.

You laid back on his bed—with the lamplight painting your skin in honeyed gold, and Joel just stood there for a moment, looking. Like he needed to memorize you. Like maybe he was scared you’d disappear if he blinked.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You reached for him. “Come on, Joel.”

He climbed over you slowly, reverently, his hands calloused but gentle, his mouth leaving soft, searching kisses down your neck, between your breasts, along your stomach. You gasped when he kissed the inside of your thigh, his beard scratching just right, and his hands gripped your hips like he was trying to hold himself together.

Joel sloppily sucked on your clit, groaning into you when he heard your moans and felt your dainty fingers grab onto his greying hair.

It was clumsy, and perfect, and new—at least together. You’d had others, sure, but none like him. No one so careful, so quiet, so full of something unspoken and almost holy. Joel touched you like he didn’t believe he deserved to. Like you were something borrowed and breakable.

When he finally sank into you, slow and deep, his eyes locked on yours, you swore the whole world stilled.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your name fell from his lips like a prayer, and you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between you. Only heat. Only trust.

Only Joel.

And when it was over—when you were breathless and tangled in sheets and sweat and the sound of rain on the roof—he didn’t pull away. Didn’t run.

He stayed.

One arm under your head, the other splayed across your belly, thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

“I’m not gonna let you go,” he said quietly.

“I know,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, held you like you were home.

Outside, the storm passed.

Inside, something new began.

tags: @borinquenasoy

[tokyosnowd]

Am I interrupting?

[Love & Deepspace 21+, Xavier]

Cw: Slight voyuerism; 2k

Xavier has always lived up to your expectations, and yes that is a funny way of putting it, but it's true. He has been nothing but sweet, dependable and will never hesitate to lend an ear or two when you need it. On the most cloudy and rainiest of nights, when you're at your lowest, he would somehow always manage to rearrange the clouds and soak up all the rain so that the moon and stars shine their brightest just for you. You love his sleepiest moments to his most protective and everything in between, you found every thing about him endearing. One thing that you absolutely adore is his little updates that you'd receive throughout the day. He would send you a text or even call you randomly to inform you on the many adventures he had contributed in while he was away. And when you looked back at those messages as they would pour in, one of the biggest grins would form on your face.

This one particular evening he was out fighting wanderers, unfortunately for you his loving texts and calls weren't coming in nearly as frequent. The last message you received you were informed that he wouldn't be home until later that night. When you two spoke on the phone earlier you expressed your concerns, telling him to be careful and he reassured you in the gentlest of voices. Xavier being him couldn't help but laugh at your anxiousness, the way you cared about his well being was too cute. This love that he felt from you made his heart quicken and so he pressed his hand against his chest and huffed. You both said your goodbyes and he was off into the woods for the rest of the day, taking that warmth in his chest with him. As he took one wanderer down after the other he couldn't help but allow his mind to trail off on the thought of you. At the beginning, he wandered off onto the way you smiled and the way your soft lips curled into a grin at his jokes. Then it was the way you'd caress his back ever so gently when the two of you cuddle.

It goes without saying, but his thoughts of you helped him pass the time until he realized he was already done for the day. After he was given the green light he made the commute home with you still in his mind.

He couldn't wait to hug and kiss you. To bury his face into your hair and basks in your warm scent. He had it made up in his mind that he'd be lying on your chest and talking about his whole day as you listen to every word while stroking his back-complacent-by the end of the night. Wrapped up in the blankets as if he had never left to begin with. That had always been his favorite way to sleep.

And before he noticed it he was already walking up to the front door of the apartment, ready to type in the code. He paused for a second before pulling out his phone and checking the time. It was then he realized that he was-early? Okay maybe early isn't the right word but he told you he would be late. The only problem is that he's off two hours early than the time he had said. Did those thoughts of you actually help him in finishing his work faster? And if so then he would start doing that more often, he thought. A smile played at his lips.

With that in mind he opened the door ready to call out your name until a groan echoing from down the hall stopped him in his tracks. What was that? Was that a moan? From you? He went to close the door behind him and soon after, got his answer when another strangled moan echoed from behind the bedroom door. Only this time that sound went straight to his groin. The sounds grew louder and more broken as he crept his way through the hall. The light behind the door shone at the bottom, meekly lighting the hallway. Pausing right in front of the door with bated breath, he waited. For what? Even he wasn't sure. Was this an invasion of privacy if he walked in on you? You two share the same bed so that would be a no, right? Should he knock first before entering? Or should he just walk in and act as casual as possible? Unfortunately there was nothing casual about this moment. The way his heartbeat picked up wasn't casual and the way his pants grew tighter wasn't, by any means of the word, casual either. There was only one way to find out what you were doing in there and that was to go in.

Honestly that sounded like the most tempting answer by far. Being able to see you sprawled out on the bed, completely naked. Your heels digging into the sheets, your toes curling while your fingers plunge deeper and deeper into your cunt- The idea was almost too much to even imagine for Xavier. That image alone had his cock straining against his zipper, begging for the same relief that you, may very well be, searching for too. At first he was going to step away and give you the time you so desperately needed until he heard something that made his whole body burn.

“O-oh fuck, Xavi-” It came out so breathy, so soft it was almost hard to miss. Almost.

He heard it as clear as day and before he could stop himself the door was open. He made sure to open it slowly but the more the door gaped wider and wider the more he could see what was really going on. The sight was much different from what he had imagined but the effect was all the same. In fact you were on your knees in the center of the bed, straddling a pillow and what separated you from that pillow, was a vibrator.

With your back arched, your head thrown back and your eyes closed. You were completely lost in the feeling, blood rushing too loud in your ears for you to even notice that the door was now wide open. What also played a part was the small ear buds you had placed in your ears. He wanted to know what you were listening to but quickly discarded that thought when you began to move. He stood there and watched as you jutted your hips back and forth with fervor. Your breaths came out in pants and he stared as your nipples peaked and body shone from the thin layer of sweat, telltale sign that you've been going at it for a while. Your hair clung to your damp face while blush dusted your cheeks.

If only you could've seen Xavier in that moment, he was fully entranced by you. His blue eyes blown wide at the sight of you fucking yourself so well. The way your body shook from the power of the vibration had his mouth watering for a taste. He licked at his lips fighting the urge to wrapped them around your nipples and bite and nibble at your supple skin.

The scene was so perfect that he was hoping, praying even, that you never opened your eyes. Getting to watch exactly how you pleasure yourself was a rare occurrence. Sure he could've always asked you to do it in front of him but something about you getting off while not even your boyfriend was around was one of your rawest forms. Every subtle gasp and whimper you let out he felt like he needed to hold his breath—due to the fear that—if you woke from your daydream you might take extra procautions next time or become too embarrassed to do anything like this ever again. Your hands desperately grasping the pillow below you made him pay close attention to your next move. You ascended off the toy ever so slightly, your head hanging as you leaned forward.

Xavier's eyes widened and his mouth dried as he watched you ascend higher until only the tip of the toy was penetrating you. So enchanted that he didn’t notice how heavily he started to breathe. ‘You’re so beautiful’ he wanted to tell you so bad. The need to talk to you and tell you just how good you’re doing was too intense for him.

His eyes moved to where you and the toy connected before you repeated the motion again. Picking yourself back up then harshly dropping back down with a soft thud.

“Ngh!” You gasped out before rolling your hips.

'Don't stop' He encouraged. You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth subconsciously. But that didn’t go unnoticed, not by Xavier, he has seen you come in so many different ways on so many occasions so he knew what that meant. He has seen the way your eyes would gloss over when pure bliss overcomes you. He has seen the way your body starts to stutter and shake when you’re right on the peak of it. The way that you would attempt to speak but nothing would come out because the feeling is just that intense.

His eyes skimmed over your body and could tell that you were on the precipice. From the way you clamped down on your bottom lip, to the way you started to hold your breath. You were about to come and soon, in fact you were practically already there. Your thighs started to quiver, your muscles started to spasm in your legs and your back arched tightly. A beautiful whimper slipped past your lips but he doesn’t think that you even noticed it.

Your mouth hung open in a silent cry before you reached a hand between your legs to finish the job. And just like that Xavier reached his breaking point. Any reason he had for not intervening was gone along with any hesitance he had. You felt a gentle hand clasp your jaw and by the time you opened your eyes Xavier's mouth was on yours. Your body tensed up before relaxing into his touch. Moving your head back, he tilted his own and forced your mouth to open wider. This whole time you tried to be quiet, you really did, but the way his tongue stroked against yours was enough to send you over.

Your body slammed down on the vibrator and froze, your pussy clamping down on it like a vice as you came undone. Any thought of his random appearance vanished from your brain as the blissful sensation at the base of your spine split your body in two. Your eyes welcomed the back of your head while your index and middle finger of your right hand remained drawing tight circles on your clit. Beautiful dazzling stars blurred your vision and your movements stiffened, your body going taut. Every whine, every moan, every cry you tried to tamp down, all pour out of your mouth and Xavier, greedily devoured everything you gave.

Your left hand wrapped around Xavier's throat dragging him down to you, your kisses never breaking. The groan that he let out was quickly swallowed by you while you licked at his mouth. The warmth of his hand welcomed your hip as he held you in place, helping you ride out your orgasm. Your body involuntarily fought against his touch and he made little to no effort of holding you in place. It took what seemed like forever before your body finally went slack only to tense back up again from the overstimulation of the still live, vibrating toy.

“Xavier,” You moaned out “When did you-”

“Again,” He groaned as he kissed the skin of your cheek then gradually moved to your neck.

“What?”

“Do all of that again. Right now.” That wasn’t a demand or a request. That was a plea. Xavier was desperate to the point where he would beg if he needed to. He loved every bit of what he just witnessed that he needed to see it all over again.

[brainrotcharacters]

Freelancer, Jealous?

Far into the early months of being with Gavin, Freelancer doesn't understand how anyone could sideline any of the incubi.

Schoolmates and faculty alike are actually proud to say that they have a sex demon they can call when they're already in a relationship with another person. Freelancer had been forced to listen to a litany of how that one succubus drastically improved a senior student's relationship with her partner, or how the Intermediate Elemental Command professor rekindled the spark in his marriage when he hooked up with an incubus.

"Do they know you're talking about them like that?" They blurted out at one point. Absolutely no effort went into holding back. "How would they feel?"

They all laughed in Freelancer's face. "Who cares what they feel?"

Damien had tugged at Freelancer's sleeve and whispered. "Maybe don't pick that fight."

Now, monitoring who else Gavin fed from aside from Freelancer ― there's an idea. Where was the guarantee that he wasn't fucking the water elemental tutor or he wasn't taking it up the ass by some broad-shouldered junior that Freelancer walked past in the school halls?

They'd been glaring daggers at yet another schoolmate parroting about the number of positions she put a succubus into when Huxley gently elbowed them in the side. Freelancer snapped, more harshly than intended. "Ow! What?!"

"They're gonna notice you. Why are you glaring?" He said softly, but not weakly.

Freelancer huffed through their nose. They scrape away the frost that formed in the floor beneath their shoes. "Nothing."

Huxley drew his mouth into a thin line. "Damien says your new hobby is listening to anyone bragging about being with an incubus."

"Oh, you speak to Damien a lot, do you?" Freelancer challenged.

"That's not fair." The side of his lips curled. "Unlike me, you're actually dating the person you like. Go talk to him."

At the sigh that escaped Freelancer, Huxley continued in a more serious tone. "We can't both be miserable, Freelancer."

Schoolwork wasn't an effective distraction. For fuck's sake, Freelancer gave their first time to Gavin after reviewing. Every other turn of the pages in the lecture books felt like the strands of Gavin's hair when he was feasting between Freelancer's legs. Each ache in their shoulders and neck was always eased by those lovely hands and that incredibly sinful mouth.

As if summoned by thought alone (it wasn't that far-fetched in actuality), Gavin now lounged on the other end of the couch. He traced lines on Freelancer's calves, smirking like a cat. "Thinking twice about enrolling, deviant?"

Normally a rabid, even feral, creature that relished in his touch, Freelancer slowly pulled their legs back, flipping to the next page. Gavin's hair felt exactly like that when he kissed Freelancer so deeply their voice broke.

Gavin's smirk flickered, but another flash of pleasure from them had him chuckling. Freelancer was playing hard to get.

He crawled across the couch, trailing a line of soft kisses from Freelancer's forearm, up to their bicep, and to their shoulder. That was when the pleasure suddenly folded into itself and became anger.

Fear.

Gavin withdrew, blinking. It wasn't fear of him ― never, unless they were playing it up during sex, but fear... Of... Of something he couldn't pinpoint, watching the person he adored most now ignore him.

"Freelancer?"

They flipped to the next page. Their hand was trembling. "Hm?"

He forced himself to ask calmly. Pretended that he wasn't three seconds away from dying. "Is something wrong?" Did I do something wrong?

Whether Freelancer heard the shift in his tone anyway, or he wasn't as excellent at faking it as he thought, they looked at him. Searched his expression for something he didn't know, but now needed to.

Freelancer's throat bobbed. They anxiously fidgeted with the cover of their lecture book. "Do... Did you just come from..." A frustrated growl. "Are you hungry right now?"

Did you come back to me when you already fed on someone else?

If Gavin was being perfectly honest, the answer was yes. Always, and it bothered him as much as it thrilled him. Something about Freelancer reinvigorates his appetite and dries his throat that only tasting Freelancer could satisfy him. Nothing short of listening to how they moaned when Gavin was completely inside of them, and how they giggled into his bare chest when it was all said and done made him feel weightless. Sex alone couldn't accomplish that ― he would know.

Honesty. That wary, guarded look on Freelancer's face needed honesty and care. "Yes. For you."

Freelancer shut the book and set it aside, facing him fully. Gavin allowed them the quiet to sort through their thoughts. "Your fellow incubi and succubi get into relationships with people who... Already have someone else. Aren't they bothered that they're being cheated on?"

Gavin blinked once. Twice. The words settled. "Most aren't. From what little I hear of their entanglements, they have an agreement. Not every couple has the single-minded rapturous focus that we do, voyeur."

Some of the coldness in their expression thawed. But not all. He considered that beloved face. "Do you have someone else, Freelancer?"

"What? No!" Their hand clamped around Gavin's own, and his core warmed with recognition. There they are. "Don't even think that!"

"Do you think I have someone else?"

Freelancer opened their mouth. Then closed it.

It was a gamble to ask that question. And it paid off. Gavin tenderly kissed the back of Freelancer's hand. "I would only like to say this once. I have never desired any of them the way I desire you."

They clenched their jaw. Before tonight ended, Gavin mentally swore to fuck all of that frustration out of them. He kissed Freelancer's palms lovingly. "Look, I'd like us to be joined at the hip, but your life doesn't revolve around me."

"It should." Freelancer murmured, pouting.

Giggling, Gavin leaned in and kissed them. He was at his most natural self when his lips molded and moved with Freelancer's own, sucking on their tongue and mewling into their mouth. In between kisses, he says. "Jealousy looks amazing on you, Freelancer."

Freelancer pulled away first, wrapping their arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Gavin cradled the back of their head, his other hand slowly making circles on Freelancer's back. I'm here. I'm right here.

"Do you know what happens when I feed on someone else?" He asked quietly. "They're adorable when they're flustered, sure. But my effect on them is too shallow of a reason. When I make you blush, it's because I know you, and I know what excites you. I enjoy being the reason you're flustered, or laughing, or crying with pleasure." Three back to back kisses on Freelancer's head for emphasis. "I feed on someone else, and I just make comparisons with you. I just miss you... Freelancer?"

They were breathing deeply, slowly against him. Unshed tears glistened in their eyelashes, and their kiss-swollen lips moved with every breath. Asleep.

Gavin chuckled, angling his body farther than he probably should just to plant another kiss on Freelancer's lips. He smiled, and murmured. "Good night, my love. I'll see you in the morning."

[graciescott27]

I will fall in love with you over and over again — y. itadori

Sukuna apparently knew his girlfriend in a past life?

cw: pure fluff, Sukuna

wc: 863

Yuji Itadori was no stranger to crushes. From the little girl in his kindergarten class he would share goldfish with to Jennifer Lawrence, he tended to think a bit too much about girls. Of course, given his hyperactive personality, none of those little crushes lasted long. Not once had his attraction to a girl persisted long enough to actually turn into something past a few casual thoughts.

Never once did he think the girl to break the streak would be you. 

You were his closest friend since you were kids. He hadn’t thought about you in that way until you were in high school. Somehow, being fifteen and that close to a girl made everything weird. You two talked too frequently. You hugged too much in public. You spent too much time at his house. He couldn’t help himself but to grow a little… obsessive.

As Megumi and Nobara had stated many times, he was a loser. No way he was going to actually ask you out. You were out of his league by miles. And you were his best friend. He wasn’t going to ruin that just because of a little crush that may or may not have gone away in a few days. So he swore to just suck it up and act normal.

Yuji was never one for normal, though.

Somehow, after months of him floundering, he ended up dating you. The story itself wasn’t even romantic, either. You were just spending the night at his house like you normally did on Saturdays. While you were on your phone, he started stuttering sheer nonsense, and you just asked, “Are you trying to ask me out or are you having a heart attack?” He laughed and told you that it was both. And then you kissed his cheek.

Truthfully, he couldn’t have done it without Sukuna. The King of Curses was surprisingly soft at times, and tried to help Yuji figure out his feelings. It didn’t work much, but at least the idiot figured out that it’s not the end of the world to ask out someone you’re close to.

Yuji still couldn’t figure out why Sukuna cared, though. It seemed ridiculous to him. Someone who had been trying to kill him for months just… decided to help him get a girlfriend? And even worse, he listened to him?

He figured it out in the middle of month four of your relationship.

You were sitting on his bed next to him, curled up in a pile of blankets and pillows, your phone shoved into your face. It had to have been at least 12 AM. Normally you were half asleep on top of him by that point. Yuji just later next to you, eyes darting between whatever was on your screen and your face.

He was grateful that you had in earbuds because not even two minute later, that irritating, grating voice popped out of nowhere.

“You’re an idiot,” Sukuna scoffed into Yuji’s ear. “I had to waste weeks trying to get you with your little princess, and now you’re just sitting here?”

Yuji raised a brow. “Why’s that a problem?”

“Because. When I knew her, she was practically worshiped. One of the strongest sorcerers I ever fought.”

“When did you fight her?” Yuji’s face scrunched in confusion.

Sukuna groaned. “Seven hundred years before you did.”

“So she’s, like, reincarnated?”

“Whatever term you would like the use,” Sukuna replied casually. “Her name was different then. Her face is still recognizable, however. Same sharp tongue, same clear morals.”

Yuji nodded slowly, looking back at you. He couldn’t really imagine you being some great, powerful sorcerer. Sure, you were at least three times smarter than him and you were good with your cursed energy, by you were too peaceful. You never really liked being a sorcerer. You would much rather have a normal, casual life. Yuji respected that.

“So that’s why you helped me?” Yuji asked quietly, still looking down at you. You had already fallen asleep.

“Did you think that I would help out of kindness?”

“No.”

“Good,” Sukuna hummed. “I did it for purely selfish reasons. I wanted to see her face.”

“Does she really look that close to how she did in the past?”

“Extraordinary similar.”

Yuji smiled at that. He couldn’t picture you in any era other than modern day, but he figured that you probably would have looked just as beautiful. “Cool.”

“If she didn’t have such a strong hatred for curses, perhaps I would have taken her for myself and—“

Yuji cut him off with an almost-scream. “Nope. Don’t. I don’t need details.”

“As you wish.”

After that, Yuji wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Sukuna had stopped talking. He had gotten just a bittoo occupied with staring at your relaxed expression while you slept. Maybe he could see it now. You might have been some princess centuries ago and your family was made up of powerful sorcerers. Maybe you were a rogue who used your powers to survive on your own, or you were some sort of scholar.

But now, you were just a sixteen year old girl he was hopelessly in love with.

@graciescott27

[adoreispunk]

Out of Reach (joel miller au)

…"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."”

content warning: 18+ MDNI, fingering, car sex, dirty talk, grinding, praise, age gap, smut.

wc: 3.8K

an: my first time writing smut;) hope yall enjoy.

————————-

seven

The rest of the day flew by in a blur of sweat, sawdust, and coffee. Joel kept a steady pace, moving between tasks like he'd been doing this his whole life, and I did my best to keep up. Not that he ever made me feel like I was falling behind, I just didn't want to be a bother. We hit the second job site just after 1 and scarfed down sandwiches in the cleanest spot we could find.

Now, with the sun dipping low and the hum of the drive settling in my chest, I'm somehow more awake than I've been all day. My body's exhausted, but my brain won't shut off, not with Joel sitting right next to me, his knuckles relaxed on the wheel, his profile lit by the soft burn of sunset.

He pulls into the lot but doesn't move. Just sits there. Like me.

"You hungry?" he asks, voice low.

I hesitate. "Joel..."

"I'm grabbing dinner," he says, cutting me off gently. "Thought maybe you'd come. On me."

My heart's already kicking up, and I try to rein it in. I laugh, light and a little breathless. "You already gave me a laptop and the position. I think you've done more than enough."

He leans in slightly—not a lot, but enough that I feel the shift.

"It's not about that," he says, voice rougher now. "I just... wanna sit with you a while. That okay?"

It's that last part that does me in, the way he says it. Like he's not demanding anything, but he needs it anyway. Why wouldn't I give in.

I nod, softly. "Yeah. Okay."

He relaxes just enough to let out a breath, then starts the truck again.

The restaurant is quiet, low-lit, tucked between a string of other restaurants. Nothing special from the outside. But inside it's cozy. It's the kind of place where people sit for hours without checking the time.

We slide into a booth near the back. I can feel his hand on the small of my back when he leads me in.

He orders a whiskey, neat. I order a glass of wine. I tell myself I'm just trying too hard to look older. More composed. Not like the girl whose knees go soft when he looks at her too long.

At first, we talk about work. The site, the guys, and more about what I want to start working on the next day. But then it shifts more personal. Naturally, slowly, the way it always seems to with him.

We talk about music. About old records and what he used to listen to on long drives. I tell him how my dad always tried to get me into Springsteen, but I was a stubborn little brat who thought synth-pop was deeper.

And somewhere between my second glass of wine and the server clearing our plates, I asked about Sarah.

His eyes softened immediately.

"She's in school up in New York now." he said, leaning back in his chair like the words pulled some weight from his chest. "Couldn't've picked somewhere farther away if she tried."

I smiled. "That sounds like her."

"Yeah," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "She hasn't changed a bit. Still got that stubborn streak. But I miss her. House's too quiet without her around."

A quiet beat passed between us.

"I'd love to see her again sometime," I say gently. "Maybe when summer rolls around."

Joel looked at me then, really looked, and nodded like the thought actually meant something to him. "She'd like that. She always liked you."

I glanced down at my wine glass, swirling what was left, then looked up and caught him watching me with that quiet intensity he always wore when he wasn't saying much.

I smiled, a little unsteady. "You know, I used to be kind of scared of you."

His eyebrows lifted. "Me?"

I nodded, resting my chin on my hand. "You were always so serious. So... intense. Barely said a word." I scarf down what's left of my wine.

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, guess that sounds like me".

That made me laugh—really laugh. "I liked it, though. The quiet thing. You made people pay attention without trying."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in a way that made me feel like I was under a spotlight. "You drunk, Olivia?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Tipsy." I admitted, then shrugged. "Not enough to say anything I don't mean."

His gaze held steady on me. "So what is it you're trying to say?"

I hesitated—long enough for him to notice.

"I've seen that look a thousand times today." he said softly. "You've got something sitting on the edge of your tongue and you're deciding whether to let it out"

I looked away, heart thudding, heat rising to my cheeks. "It's not a big deal."

Joel tilted his head. "Seems like it is."

There was a silence I didn't try to fill. He waited.

"I think about you more than I should," I finally said, barely louder than a whisper.

Joel went still.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I added quickly, the words falling out now that they'd started. "Since the first time I saw you again, these last few weeks i've been at school. Now working with you, seeing how much you care, how hard you push yourself. I notice everything now. The way you talk, the way you move, the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

Joel's throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn't interrupt. Just watched me like I was saying something he already knew but wanted to hear for himself.

"I know it's complicated," I said. "And probably not smart. But I didn't want to keep pretending like I didn't feel anything."

Another beat. Joel leaned back slowly in his seat, like he needed the space to breathe.

"Jesus," he muttered. "You have any idea what it's been like tryin' to keep things professional with you around?"

My eyes flicked up to his, wide and surprised.

"Thought I was doin' a decent job," he added, voice low, rough. "But you walk into a room and it's like I forget what the hell I'm supposed to be doing."

I didn't know how to respond, where to go from here. Maybe it was the wine or me never thinking he would actually feel a similar way.

Then, without a word, he reached into his wallet and dropped enough cash onto the table to cover the check and a generous tip.

"Let's go," he said, standing up.

My stomach dropped. Something in his tone—firm, curt—made me freeze for a second. I stared at the bills on the table, then up at him, trying to read his expression. But it was blank.

Suddenly, I felt so stupid. How could I mess up something so bad that was literally handed to me.

"I—Mr. Miller, I'm sorry," I said quickly, rising from my seat, my voice quieter. "I said too much.

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he said it again—lower this time, slower.

"Let's go, Olivia."

And I followed, my cheeks burning.

The ride back was quiet. The kind of silence that felt thick, like it was holding its breath. I stared out the window out of embarrassment. Maybe I'd crossed a line. Maybe I'd ruined everything. The last thing I wanted was to make things weird. Worse yet, to make him uncomfortable.

The office parking lot came into view. My car was the one left, sitting under a flickering overhead light. Joel slowed the truck as we pulled in, the hum of the engine filling the space between us.

And then I felt it. His hand, steady and warm, resting gently on my thigh.

I turned to look at him, startled, heart hammering.

He was still watching the lot, one hand on the wheel, the other anchored to me like it belonged there. His thumb moved once, a slow, almost-thoughtless stroke that sent a wave of heat through my core.

"I've wanted to say something." he said quietly, his voice almost a rasp. "But I didn't know if I had the right."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The weight of his hand, the sound of his voice—it left no room for words.

He looked over at me then, and this time, I could read the look on his face. Want with restraint

"You sure about this?" he asked, eyes searching mine. "Because if we start this... I'm not gonna be able to pretend nothing's changed."

Joel's hand stayed on my thigh, his grip a little tighter now, like he needed the anchor.

"And your dad..." he started, then stopped, jaw clenching. "Jesus. If he ever found out..."

He exhaled hard through his nose, like it physically hurt to say it. "He'd never forgive me, Olivia. I don't think I'd be able to look him in the eye again. Hell, I don't even know what the fuck I'm doing here."

His thumb brushed against the inside of my leg, slow, grounding. "But I know I want you. I've tried not to. I've tried real hard."

That confession unraveled something tight in my chest. I'd imagined and hoped for it—but hearing it in his voice, heavy with conflict and need, it undid me.

"I need to know," he said, softer now, glancing at me again, "You're not drunk, right? I need you clearheaded when you say it. I'm not touching you if you're not sure."

I shook my head, quick almost desperate. "I'm not. I swear." I licked my lips, voice barely above a whisper. "I' want you so bad Joel."

I barely had time to register the shift in the air before Joel leaned in, hand moving from my thigh to the side of my neck, rough fingers cradling me like he didn't trust himself not to break me.

Then his mouth was on mine.

It was desperate—hungry and unfiltered and so much more than I was prepared for. His lips crashed into mine with a groan that vibrated in my chest, and I gasped against him, which only gave him more. He took it, pulled me closer across the truck's console like he couldn't stand the inches between us. His other hand slid around my waist, dragging me into him like he needed me there.

A small, involuntary moan escaped me at the feel of his body pressed against mine, and that was all it took.

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips, the sound raw, like he'd been holding it in for far too long. "Where did you come from?"

His tongue pushed past my lips, and I let him in, tasting the whiskey on his breath, the heat of him unraveling every bit of restraint I'd clung to. The kiss deepened fast. His mouth hot and searching, like he was trying to memorize me from the inside out. I kissed him back with everything I had, fingers curling into his hair.

Joel didn't stop kissing me—not even for a second.

His hands gripped my waist, firm and sure, and before I could blink, he was moving. In one smooth motion, he shoved his seat back with a grunt, the lever creaking under the force, and then he was pulling me into his lap, dragging me over the console like I weighed nothing.

I gasped into his mouth, but he didn't let up, didn't let go. He just wrapped his arms around me tighter and sealed his mouth over mine like he was starving for it.

The moment I settled on top of him, thighs straddling either side of his lap, I felt the hard press of him beneath me. He was so big.

It made my head spin.

My body moved without thinking, my hips rolling forward, slow and uncertain at first. The friction hit just right and I couldn't stop the low, breathy moan that left me. Joel groaned, deep in his throat, and his grip on my hips tightened, holding me right there as I rocked against him again, more confident now. More desperate.

"Jesus, Olivia" he breathed against my lips, voice rough and frayed. "You're gonna fuckin' kill me."

But he didn't stop me. Didn't try to pull away.

If anything, he pulled me closer.

My hands slid into his hair, tugging a little, and that only made him kiss me harder. Deeper. Tongue and teeth and heat, like he didn't care where we were or who could see like he needed this just as bad as I did.

His fingers brushed between my legs, dragging over the heat of me through my pants, and I couldn't help the soft gasp that fell from my mouth, my body jerking forward slightly into his touch.

"You sittin' here grindin' on me, thinkin' im not gonna do something 'bout it?"

He pressed his forehead to mine, lips brushing and teasing. I whimpered at the loss, but then he tilted his head and looked at me—really looked at me.

"I need to hear you say it, sweetheart," he added, voice softer now, almost reverent. "I wanna hear you cum. Been thinkin' about it all night."

"Yes," I breathed, not even hesitating. My hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer like I needed him to fuse into me. "Please, Joel. Im so wet already" Something flickered in his eyes—something primal.

I move my mouth to his jaw and neck, desperate to not let any of this moment go to waste. It feels like I was on autopilot.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word guttural, like it clawed out of him. His hand tightened on my thigh. "You don't know what you're doin' to me, baby."

"Then show me." I whispered, lips brushing his jaw. That broke him.

He swore again under his breath, something low and hoarse, before pulling away just enough to look me dead in the eye.

"Get in the back," he ordered. His voice was sharp, commanding.

I scrambled off his lap without question, my knees shaking as I pushed open the door and climbed into the back seat of the truck. The second I got in, he was already there, slamming the door shut behind him.

His hands were on me in seconds—gripping my waist, pulling me down beneath him, and all I could do was cling to him as everything we'd both been holding back came pouring out at once.

He goes back to kissing me just as desperate and hard. He starts working my shirt open with one hand as he supports my back with the other. Revealing a black lace bra I had underneath. Definitely not picked intentionally. He doesn't take my shirt off completely or my bra, he starts working kisses that will definitely leave a mark all throughout the tops of my boobs.

"Fuck Joel, just like that." I moan. Making his hand work up to my cleavage and squeezing it just right.

He starts making his way down my stomach with his mouth not bothered by the enclosed space we're in. He looks up at me with his puppy dog eyes as he starts unbuttoning my pants.

"Kick those pretty heels off and lift up your hips."

I do what he tells me and he starts taking my pants off.

His fingers trailed over the lace at my hips, his breath catching as he took in the full sight of me sprawled out for him in the backseat.

"Damn," he said, low and rough. "You really wore this just to kill me tonight, didn't you?"

I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't—this wasn't—" I swallowed. "I wasn't planning on any of this."

"Yeah?" His thumbs stroked just under the waistband of my underwear, barely touching skin. "Could've fooled me. You look so fuckin' pretty layin' out for me like this, babygirl."

And then his hands moved between my thighs again, slower this time, purposeful. The pad of his finger dragged across the center of me, through the lace, and I let out a shaky moan. My hips rising up like they had a mind of their own.

He murmured, voice rough and ragged. "You're soaked. I make you this wet?"

The words made my entire body jolt. There was no hiding how much I wanted him—how badly I'd been needing this. My thighs trembled as he rubbed slow, teasing circles through the damp fabric, just enough to build pressure, not enough to ease it.

"Joel," I gasped. "Please—"

He leaned in again, his lips brushing my cheek, then the shell of my ear. The weight of him, the warmth of his breath, all of it sent a shiver through me.

"You needed this, didn't you?" he whispered. "Been wound up all night, sittin' next to me like that, talkin' to me like that." All of a sudden he starts kissing my neck. Making me even weaker.

"Yes," I breathed. "God—yes."

He groaned, something guttural and wrecked, as his hand pressed firmer between my legs, his touch no longer teasing. He finally starts moving the lace over to one side as I feel his touch on my folds for the first time.

"Lay back," he said, voice thick with need, "Let me take care of you."

He slowly starts putting his 2 fingers into me. Slow and steady at first. I let out something obscene and desperate in that moment. So glad that I can finally let out this pressure.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned under his breath, like he couldn't believe it. "This pussy's so wet for me."

"Joel—" I said his name like a prayer, like a plea, and he answered it with his two fingers curling up, moving faster.

My hips jerked, the stretch making me cry out, but it was relief. It was heaven. It was him, curling his fingers just right as his thumb pressed down on my clit, working me like he already knew my body better than I did.

"That's it." he murmured, his mouth grazing my neck, his voice ragged and tight. "Wanna hear you. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck— you. All of you Joel. Don't stop—please don't stop—" I was panting now, my hands gripping, nails digging into his forearms he's supporting himself with.

He fucked me with his fingers like he couldn't help it, like he needed to get me there just to survive. The slick sound of it filled the car, obscene and perfect, and my moans only got louder with every twist of his wrist.

"You're squeezin' me so tight," he rasped. "You gonna come for me? Let me feel it?"

"Just like that —Joel—fuck—" I couldn't hold back anymore. My back arched off the seat, thighs shaking, the world narrowing to the fire spreading out from where he touched me.

And then I shattered.

The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, pulling a cry from my throat that didn't even sound like me. My vision blurred as I pulsed around his fingers, riding it out, letting him wring every last drop of pleasure from me.

Joel didn't stop. Not until I was limp beneath him, chest heaving, lips parted in shock.

He finally pulled his fingers out from me and making eye contact bringing them to his mouth, tasting me with a soft, filthy groan. Then kissing me just as desperate as before, making me taste myself on his lips.

"You've got no idea what youre gonna do to me." He says finally pulling away from me.

I just stared at him—completely fucked out, heart pounding, skin flushed. I didn't have words yet. All I could do was reach for him, still needing more. I wanted to make him feel just as good.

"I wanna take care of you too," I whispered, my fingers brushing his buldge, feeling how hard he was for me. "Let me."

His hand caught mine, firm but gentle. He looked at me like I'd just said something dangerous.

"Baby," he said softly, shaking his head with a crooked, pained smile. "You put that pretty mouth on me right now, I won't be able to stop myself."

The heat in my core flared all over again at his words, but there was something in the way he looked.

"I'll wait," he murmured, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. "You already gave me more than I fuckin' deserved."

Then he kissed me again—full and slow, all tongue and heat, like he needed to seal this moment between us. I moaned into it, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, letting him swallow every bit of me.

Eventually, he pulled away just enough to start doing up the buttons of my shirt, his touch gentle now, the intensity shifting to something quieter. Intimate.

I glanced down, cheeks flushed, still breathless, then looked around for my pants. They were crumpled on the floor of the truck. I grabbed them, laughing under my breath.

"You gonna put these on for me too?" I teased, holding them up with one hand.

Joel smirked, eyes dark but soft as they dropped to the scrap of lace still clinging to my hips.

"Sweetheart, if I touch you again right now, we're not leavin' this truck tonight."

I smiled, slipping my legs back into pants with shaking hands, still feeling the imprint of his fingers between my thighs.

He looked at me again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He looks down on his watch, "It's gettin' late," he said, voice low and a little rough. "You should get home, babygirl."

I gave a weak laugh, slumping back into the seat and tugging the last button of my pants closed, my body still humming from everything he'd done to me. "I don't think I can walk to my car."

Joel looked back at me, smirking—warm and lazy, but with that glint in his eyes like he was still thinking about what we'd just done. "Need me to carry you?"

"I think so" I said, trying to sound playful but my voice came out a little breathier than I meant. "Think I'm gonna need to ice my thighs or something."

That made him laugh, quiet and genuine, before he leaned over and pressed one last, slow kiss to my lips. His hand cupped the side of my face, fingers curling into my hair like he didn't want to let go just yet.

"C'mon I'll walk you out."

——————————————

an:

[ramp-it-up]

Captain. My Captain.

Mood

Summary: Steve has a kink. And you have the key.

Word count: 3.3 K

Pairing: Early CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader

A/N: This is a fic related to Call Me Captain When I... and comes right after Mood. It is also for @avengers-assemble-bingo. #KinkyBingo. This fulfills the square: Sir/Daddy Kink This is also part of @yenzys-lucky-charm Cranky, Grabby, Stabby, Oh My Challenge. Prompt: “just the tip I promise" *holds me down and fucks me full of cum.*” I'm deep in love with Steve and Libby. Please reblog, comment, and like!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! This Steve curses, and he is also grumpy. Steve is weak for you but a bit of a control freak. Dominate Steve, Semi-public sex act, fingering, lots of dirty talk and verbal edging, literal edging, orgasm denial, Captain and Sir kink, size kink, praise oral (m receiving), raw p in v, creampie, aftercare, soft Steve after he cums. 😜

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

It started at the briefing.

Steve sat at the head of the table, full Captain mode. The stealth suit fit him like a second skin and you’d had to will your eyes forward more than once. His jaw was set, his focus sharp. Everyone else, Sam and a few others, listened while he laid out the plan to hunt the organization behind the ambush on your training op.

The bastards who hit you were already “neutralized,” though you had yet to learn what Steve meant by that. This mission was about the ones who’d sent them. 

The ones who thought they could touch you.

It was the first time you’d worked directly with him in the field.

You were paying attention. To the plan. To him. To the way his fingers curled tight around the table’s edge. The sharp crease between his brows. The way he looked at everyone else like their Captain, and looked at you like a man who’d memorized the sound you made when you broke.

Steve’s reactions to you had always been inconvenient, but they were especially volatile now, on a mission, in uniform, with your professionalism at risk. Hundreds of people called him Captain and Sir every day, but when you said them, it short-circuited something primal inside him.

You weren’t supposed to be under his command outside of the bedroom. But this time, you were. And he was doing everything in his power to keep his shit together.

That meant no time alone. No slipping. No touching. No relief. He even insisted that you get yourself off every night to counter the maddening effects of no contact between you, but you defied him.

“Respectfully, Sir, I don’t want to.”

He’d nearly broken then, but understood. Nothing felt better than you two together. He’d decided the same. Two weeks of self-control would be hell. But he’d endured worse.

You weren’t so sure you would last.

When he asked the room, “Any questions before we move?” his gaze locked on you, unflinching.

You tilted your head innocently.

“No, Sir.”

His breath hitched. Just enough that you noticed.

Sam started talking, but you didn’t hear a word. You were too busy watching Steve’s knuckles strain, his jaw tick, and the storm brewing behind his ice-blue eyes.

He was daring you to say it again.

You straightened, hands folded neatly, waiting for him to look away.

He didn’t.

After the briefing, you didn’t even make it three steps down the hall before his hand circled your arm, pulling you into the breakroom. Not rough, but firm enough that your heart stuttered.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, voice low.

You blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sweetness.

“What was what?”

“You know damn well.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Sir.” You leaned in, breath warm against his ear. 

“Didn’t mean to distract you, Captain.”

The growl that rumbled from his chest was the sound of a man fraying at the seams.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll bend you over the nearest tactical table.”

Your pulse fluttered. “Is that a threat or a promise, Sir?”

His hand drifted, barely brushing the curve of your ass and it was subtle, calculated, and electric enough to buckle your knees.

“You’re walking the line, Lieutenant.”

You lowered your gaze, fighting for control you didn’t want. 

“Apologies…”

He nodded, sharp and curt. Turned to go and you watched America’s Ass. You waited just long enough, then let the last word fall like a stone in water.

“…Captain.”

He froze. Just for a second. Shook his head and walked away.

But it didn’t end there.

On the jet, the tension only sharpened. You sat across from him, knees brushing, the hum of the engines a thin veil over the silence between you. The rest of the team prepped and chatted, oblivious.

Steve didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just watched you watch him. Your eyes dropped to his lap, tracing the outline of his cock beneath the suit. You licked your lips deliberately, remembering the weight and stretch of him.

You leaned forward, passing him a file, fingers brushing his on purpose.

“Here you go, Sir.”

Your voice was husky and he knew you were wet, and probably desperate for any contact with him. So he didn’t take the file from you.

Didn’t move.

Just stared at you, like he was one slip away from throwing you over his knee in front of God, country, and S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice dark and tight.

You smiled, all sugar. “Yes, Sir.”

Steve’s jaw flexed as he turned to Sam, locking the need away with brutal discipline. You swallowed, steadying yourself. The mission came first.

It always did.

The mission’s success only sharpened the edge. By the time the gala rolled around, neither of you had cooled off, not even close. You’d basically begged him before the event. Your hands tangled in his shirt, your lips bruising his, your body pressed tight against his in the darkened corner of your quarters.

“Please,” you whispered. “Just the tip.”

Steve laughed against your mouth, but he’d pulled back, steady even with his pulse racing wild beneath your fingers. His hands cupped your face, thumbs sweeping over your swollen lips.

“We both know that just the tip would end up with me holding you down and fucking you full of cum, Libby.”

Your eyes rolled. “Please…”

Your wanton moan had him a hair’s breath from giving in. But you both still had a job to do.

“I want to take my time with you.” His voice was all gravel, thick with promise. “You’ll get all of me. But not now. Not like this.”

So you dressed for the gala, the ache between your thighs a constant reminder that Captain Rogers was still calling the shots. And you let him think he’d won right up until the Senator asked that question.

The man had the nerve to sidle up to you, drink in hand, charm dripping off him like oil, and ask what it was like to serve under Captain Rogers.

You didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, I always follow orders,” you said, slow and sweet. “Isn’t that right, Sir?”

You saw it, the way Steve’s glass froze halfway to his lips, the flicker of fire in his eyes, the sharp clench of his jaw as he forced down a cough to cover the sound of his own restraint breaking.

Five minutes later, he excused himself. You followed.

The hallway was empty. His hand caught your wrist the second you were close enough, pulling you flush against him, pressing your back to the wall. You were so wet.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

You blinked up at him, lashes fluttering. 

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?”

His breath ghosted your lips. 

“You think it’s funny? Teasing me like that. In front of him.”

You smiled angelically. 

“I think it’s hot. Watching you try to keep control when all you want to do is take me apart.”

His hands tightened against the wall.

“You know what happens when I lose control, Libby.”

You smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

His hand slid down your arm, fingers curling tight around your wrist as he dragged you into the nearest supply closet. The door clicked shut, the air was charged, and you could barely breathe.

“You wanted this,” he growled pinning you back against the shelves. His hands roamed, hiking your dress higher and higher until his fingers brushed bare skin. 

“You’ve been begging for it since the damn briefing.”

Your breath hitched, but your voice stayed steady. 

“Still am.”

The second the word Captain left your mouth, his control shattered and he was on you.

His hand covered your mouth to muffle the sounds, the other sliding between your thighs, fingers slipping deep, parting your folds roughly, desperate to feel you. He swallowed every broken noise you couldn’t hold back, his mouth finding your neck, your shoulder, your breast. His teeth grazing, his tongue soothing, and his lips branding you.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, voice cracking open at the edges.

You moaned, helpless against the waves of pleasure.

His fingers pumped harder, faster. His control slipping with every stroke. His fingers worked you harder, faster, until your legs trembled and your world seemed to bend around you.

Then, right before you came, he stopped.

“You wanna play games, Sweetheart?” His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

When he pulled back, he held you steady, smoothing your dress back down with those same hands that had almost wrecked you. His lips ghosted over your temple, while what he did still vibrated through both of you.

“You okay?” 

You swallowed. You couldn’t even be mad at him because you knew how much you’d teased him.

“Yeah, I….you. That was…” your voice trailed off. “...Are you?”

His smirk was pure sin. “Nope.”

You laughed, breathless and wrecked. 

“You know it would help if you didn’t look so damn smug.”

“Oh, Sweetheart, you haven’t seen smug yet. Wait until I give you at least three orgasms.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“So you keep telling me.”

—----

The second the gala ended, you’d expected him to break. To drag you into the nearest car, or corner you in some dark hallway before the flashbulbs had even cooled.

But no.

Steve kept his distance.  

All night, you’d felt his eyes track you across the room, the heat of it searing through the silk of your dress, the weight of his control stretched so tight it was a wonder he hadn’t snapped.

But he never touched you again. Never slipped. Not once.

He even sent you home in a separate car. Your heart couldn’t take it, but you knew there was more to come. And it was long past midnight when the knock came. You opened your door, heart already pounding, and there he stood.

His shirt sleeves were rolled, the tie hanging loose around his neck, his jacket nowhere to be seen. His restraint had finally cracked, written all over his face. But his voice stayed low, even.

“Pack your bag,” he said. “Now.”

You didn’t ask where. You didn’t need to. You just obeyed.

Ten minutes later, you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, your thighs pressed tightly together. He didn’t speak, didn’t look at you, hands flexing on the wheel like he was holding himself together by the thinnest thread.

By the time the car stopped,  a quiet, private safehouse on the edge of the city, your skin was flushed, your pulse wild.

The door had barely shut behind you when you felt it.

His hands.

One gripping your jaw, tilting your face up, the other on your waist.

“You think you can tease me like that,” he murmured, voice like gravel, “and I’ll just sit back and let it slide?”

Your breath hitched. “I wasn’t teasing, Sir.”

His eyes darkened, and the corner of his mouth lifted. not a smile, more like a warning.

“You don’t get to play innocent. Not after two weeks of ‘Yes, Sir’ and that sweet little tilt of your head. You’ve been testing me since the briefing.” 

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“And you knew exactly what you were doing.”

You felt the heat pool low in your belly, your legs weak beneath the weight of his words, the sharpness of his stare.

“On your knees.”

The order sent a shiver through you and you dropped without hesitation, hands resting on your thighs, head tilted back to look at him, waiting.

Wanting.

He watched you for a long, heavy moment, jaw tight, chest rising slowly.

“Look at you,” he muttered, shaking his head, more to himself than to you. 

“So damn pretty when you’re obedient.”

When he undid his belt, his fly, and freed his cock, you swallowed hard. The size of him, the sheer weight and length, was always a shock to your system no matter how many times you’d seen him.

You glanced up through your lashes, the shape of a question lingering in your throat.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. 

“You’ve been begging for this with every word you’ve said for the last two weeks. Work for it.”

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat, the heft, the impossible stretch of him. Your lips parted, and when you took him in, his breath hissed through his teeth, one hand threading to your scalp.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek, the barest encouragement as you started to bob on his cock, lips stretched wide and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth.

“Look at you. Captain’s perfect little mouth.”

You worked him slow at first, savoring the low growl of his approval, the way his hips flexed, controlled even now. But when you hollowed your cheeks and looked up at him, wide-eyed, his control cracked.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

His hand tightened on your head, hips pressing forward until you took him deeper, until tears dropped from your eyes. But you didn’t pull back. You wanted this, you wanted to watch him fall apart.

When he finally eased out of your mouth, his thumb wiped your lips, tracing the slick curve.

“Up,” he ordered softly, and you obeyed, rising to your feet. His hands were on you the second you stood, spinning you, pressing you against the nearest wall, his large body caging you in completely.

“You like making me lose control, don’t you?” he rasped against your ear, his hard length grinding against your ass through the thin fabric of your panties. 

“You like knowing no one else gets to see me like this.”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

His hand slid between your thighs, fingers finding you soaked and ready.

“Of course you do. You’ve been dripping for me all damn night.” 

His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, voice dark and ragged. 

“And I’ve been thinking about bending you over every flat surface I could find. About splitting you open on my cock until you forget your own name.”

You whimpered, grinding back against him, desperate.

“You wanted me to break, sweetheart?” 

His hand gripped your hip, his other one sliding between your legs again, fingers skating through your slick. 

“You’ve got me. But you’re going to pay for every second you spent torturing me.”

He didn’t take you to bed. Not yet.

Instead, he lifted you, like you weighed nothing at all,  and carried you to the couch, settling you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his hips, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You did, your gaze locking with his as he guided you down onto him, slowly, filling you inch by impossible inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he groaned, holding you still once you’d taken all of him. 

“You feel so fucking tight. So goddamn perfect around me.”

You clung to him, barely able to breathe, stretched to the limit. It hurt so good.

“You wanted your Captain,” he whispered against your lips. “Now you’ve got him.”

And then he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts that pushed you to the edge of madness, his mouth capturing every moan, every broken plea you couldn’t hold back. And you knew, right then, there’d be no walking straight tomorrow.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

—---

You lost track of how many times he made you cum. His mouth, his hands, the punishing rhythm of his hips. Every part of him wrecked you with single-minded precision.

But it wasn’t until long after your voice was hoarse from moaning his name, long after your body trembled from overstimulation, that Steve softened.

He shifted beneath you, easing out of your body with care, murmuring something low and tender against your skin. You couldn’t make out the words because your brain was a fog of pleasure and endorphins. But the gentle tone was enough to settle you.

Strong arms gathered you close, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carried you to the bed like you were precious. You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the salt of his skin, the faintest scent of sweat and his cologne.

He laid you down carefully and climbed in beside you. His big hands smoothed over your hips, your thighs, his thumbs catching on the marks he’d left behind.

You didn’t mind them. You liked that you’d wear the shape of him tomorrow. On your skin. Between your legs. In the slight limp no one would question, but he would know.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You nodded, still dazed, sated and warm. “Yes, Sir.”

A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled the blanket up over both of you.  

“Didn’t mean to go so hard,” he murmured, brushing your curls back from your forehead. 

“Just… you get under my skin, Libby. Make me forget how to think.”

“You didn’t forget how to think,” you whispered, tracing the curve of his bicep, the hard line of his chest. “You planned that.”

His answering grin pressed against your shoulder. 

“Maybe a little.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he asked, “And you knew what you were doing at the gala.”

You smirked against his throat. 

“You liked it.”

Steve groaned and pulled you tighter. 

“Liked it too much. Nearly lost it when you said Sir like that in front of the Senator.”

You laughed softly. 

“You like it when I say it in private more?”

His hand slid to the base of your spine. His grip was warm. 

“I like it when you say it when you're wrecked. When you’re trying not to come and you whisper it like a prayer. That’s when it ruins me.”

The silence that followed was full of heat, but not urgency. The hunger had been sated. What remained was the closeness. The wanting still there, but quiet now. Like embers under ash.

You moved and winced, the soreness sparking up.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“It’s just that you’re huge,” the words tumbled out unfiltered.

Steve stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No. Not even close. Just… I’m still adjusting. In my soul.”

He laughed then, head falling back, the sound full and rich and happy. It shook the bed, and you smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed.

His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up so he could look at you. 

“Who knew you were this much of a brat?”

You gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile.

“Only for you, Captain. My Captain.”

His expression softened completely. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and for a second, there was something deeper than heat in the space between you.

Something like devotion.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Every time. Before, during, after. I love you Libby.”

You leaned into the touch. 

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Steve. I love you too.”

And with that, he kissed you, slow and lingering, nothing like the bruising hunger from earlier. This was patient. Tender. The kind of kiss that promised more.

Not just in bed, but in the quiet spaces between missions and chaos. In the in-between moments where your heartbeat slowed and the world finally held still.

Eventually, you drifted off, curled against him, your leg thrown over his thigh, his hand resting on the curve of your hip.

And even in sleep, you felt it, his presence wrapped around you like a shield. Steady. Unshakable. Yours.

Captain. Sir. Steve.

All of him.

[story-box]

MAMA'S BOY | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | Eddie Munson x You | Eddie Munson x OC

Summary: As you gently brush through Eddie’s hair, he quietly admits how much he misses his mother, even after all these years...

CW: Emotional trauma, childhood loss, self-loathing

-

The room was silent, save for the sound of your fingers running through Eddie Munson’s wild hair.

Tonight felt...different. He sat rigid, trying to hold it all together.

His body was still, eyes shut, attempting to relax, yet you could feel the tension, the weight of something he was keeping inside.

Eddie never let anyone in like this. Especially not this way. But here he was, allowing you to comb through his hair.

Eddie had always been self-conscious about it—tangled, falling in his face, usually hidden under a bandana. But tonight, there were no defenses. He was just... Eddie. Vulnerable.

You worked the brush through his curls, the silence stretching between you. Each stroke made his body twitch, like he was holding something back.

“I don’t like people touching my hair,” Eddie mumbled, his voice low, almost embarrassed. “Feels… too personal.”

You didn’t stop. “I’m not ‘people,’” you said softly but firmly. “I’m not gonna judge you.”

Eddie didn’t respond, but you felt his shoulders relax slightly.

He was letting go, just a little. His breath evened out, and the quiet grew thicker.

Then, without warning, his breath hitched. You froze, brush still in hand.

"Sorry...it's just..." Eddie sighed deeply. “...my mom used to do this.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unintentional. You stopped brushing. “What do you mean?”

His jaw tightened. Memories flickered in his eyes, ones he wanted to bury but couldn’t. “She was a stylist. Did hair. I don’t know, it sounds dumb, but... I loved the way she’d do it. Just... gently. Like this. Like she had all the time in the world.” His voice cracked but he pushed through. “She’d sit me down like this. Not like it mattered, really... but it did. It mattered to her. And it mattered to me.”

A pause.

“So...” Eddie whispered, raw, “Haven’t let anyone do this in… a long time.”

You could see the fight in him, the struggle to keep it together, but you didn’t push. You just listened.

Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “She had this big chair... in the living room. She’d make me sit there and comb my hair for hours. The only time I didn’t mind her touching me. The only time I wasn’t squirming. I didn’t know what it meant then.”

You didn’t speak. Your fingers slipped through his hair again, brushing out the tangles.

“She’d hum a tune while she worked. Stories about when she was younger, how she wanted to open a salon, how she’d cut hair for everyone in the neighborhood. She’d laugh about it, like it was a silly dream. But she had that dream, you know? And I never told her I was proud of her. Never told her I loved those damn stories.” His voice wavered.

You felt his pulse under your touch, quick and erratic.

“I kept a photo of her for years,” he said, his words spilling out. “She’s smiling, holding scissors at some cheesy family barbecue, laughing with the neighbors. I still have it. Buried in a box, under my bed. I don’t want to think about it. Don’t want to miss her more than I already do.” His voice faltered, a moment of vulnerability. “I don’t talk about her. Don’t let anyone know I still care, but I do. I fucking care. God, I miss her, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Each stroke of your fingers was slow, deliberate. His hands clenched the bed, holding on to something real.

"Eddie..."

“I’m sorry,” his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. You don’t—”

But you cut him off, your voice steady, warm. “You don’t have to apologize, Eddie. Not for this. Not for anything.”

“Stop,” Eddie hissed, voice breaking through the tension. His body jerked beneath your touch, a desperate plea. “You don't have to do this. I'm not your charity case.”

Your fingers shifted to the back of his neck, pressing into the soft skin. He tensed again, but this time, you didn’t stop. You weren’t backing down.

“I don’t pity you,” you said, your voice steady, with a hint of steel. “I’m not here to fix you, Eddie. I’m here. With you. For you.”

You continued brushing, smoothing his hair down, as if it was something precious.

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. He wasn’t ready to let everything go, but he was letting himself be here, even if just for a moment.

“Sometimes, when I’m alone,” he continued quietly, “I take out that photo. Just to remember her... how she smelled like hairspray and lavender. How she’d hum while she worked, even when she was angry at my dad. She was still that soft... gentle woman, even after everything.”

You didn’t answer. You just let him breathe.

“God, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice distant. “I’m not... I’m not her, you know? I’m nothing like her.”

You felt a spark of frustration, but instead of letting it spill out...

"You’re not like her?" you asked softly, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re her son, Eddie. And that matters more than anything. She’s in you. Always. And I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

Eddie’s shoulders tensed under your touch. His eyes flickered with something frantic.

“No,” he growled, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to push your hand away. “I’m not like her. I’m not good. She was kind. She had dreams. I—I’m just… a fucking mess. I'm like him. Like my dad."

A sting in your chest. His bitterness grew darker. “I never could measure up. Not to her, not to anyone. She was the good one. And then there’s me. I’m just..."

"Eddie, please—"

"This mess," he continued. "This—this freak who can’t get it together.”

His anger shifted. Now, it was more than just about the world. It was about everything he couldn’t change inside himself.

“My old man used to say... I’d never be good enough for her. Or anyone. He made it sound like there was something wrong with me from the start. He’d always come home drunk, shouting about how much I messed up, how I was never gonna be anything. You ever heard someone make you feel like you were born broken?”

His anger was different now—raw, self-directed.

You didn’t stop. You just kept brushing, holding him in this moment.

“You’re not him, Eddie,” you said softly but firmly. “You’re you. You’re not your dad. You’re not the guy who—” You stopped, catching your breath. “You’re not him. You’re not broken.”

Eddie turned his head just enough for his eyes to meet yours. A storm in them—pain, regret, anger.

“I am like him,” Eddie said finally, bitterness creeping into every word. “I’m... exactly like him. A loser. A screw-up. I’m never gonna be the guy my mom hoped I’d be. I’m not gonna fix this.”

His anger overflowed. He wasn’t done yet.

"She was my mom. She was the one who cared. But I—I can’t even be that. I can’t. And I won’t pretend like I can be this hero. I’m not her, and I’ll never be. I’m like him. And that’s just the way it is."

His breath was sharp, as though trying to convince himself.

You could see the turmoil, the self-loathing. For a moment, it felt like he was unraveling in front of you.

"I’m bad, you hear me? I’m bad like him. I’m not some fucking knight in shining armor. I’m just... a guy who messes everything up. And you—you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t even be close to me. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you."

You stood there, frozen, unsure whether to keep going. You wanted to say something, but the words stuck.

He didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe you could want him—want this—when all he saw was chaos.

He looked at you, eyes wild. “You’re not the one who’s gonna fix me,” he said, voice low. "I'm not gonna be the guy you want. I can't be. So don't try. Don't pretend this is something it’s not."

And you felt the truth of his words settle heavy in the room.

Maybe Eddie wasn’t good like her.

Maybe he was bad like his father, lost in rage, incapable of seeing the worth in himself that you did.

And yet…

"You're right," you said quietly. "You're not her. And you might not be the person you think you are. But you're not your dad either, Eddie. Not in the way you think you are."

His eyes flickered, confused, opening his mouth to speak. You held up your hand.

"You don’t want to be fixed. You don’t want to be saved. I get it. But you need to stop thinking you’re destined to mess everything up just because of who your dad is. You’re not him. You’re you."

"I’m not leaving," you said softly. "But you can push me away if you want. It won’t change how I feel."

Eddie’s hands clenched at his sides, eyes torn between anger and desperation. “You’ll regret it. You’ll hate me for it.”

"I won’t," you said firmly.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, but this time, you can see the softness in his eyes. Slowly, his shoulders loosen, and he exhales in a way that feels like surrender.

Not giving up, but allowing himself to be a little bit more vulnerable...a little bit more himself.

He looks at you again “I never thought I could be this… open. Not even with her. Not with anyone.”

You smile, a soft, understanding smile.

And as you continue brushing his hair, you don’t feel the need to say anything else.

You’re here. With him.

And that’s enough.