#*we know he is daddy because they are ALL orange

[sing-you-fools]

up until now the kittens have been in one little room we had closed off for them. their mama (not sure of her name but we were calling her reeses cup or just mama cat) was with us too, we were still looking for an owner at first, but it was getting cold to leave them outside all the time so we took them all in while we looked.

we finally gave up on finding an existing owner, but we kept having people who "might want mama kitty" and took a while to find out if they were allowed. none of them were, and unfortunately our other cat, Zoomy, is not particularly cool with the existence of other cats, so while we figured she'd eventually reluctantly accept the kittens, she wasn’t gonna take another adult. we knew this from experience.

we took mama (and daddy kitty,* who wasn’t with them all the time but kept showing up and screaming at our doors at random times, just all "hey i'm horny lemme in," and happened to show up at just the right time today) to the shelter today. it was sad. (not sad about daddy, he wasn’t basically our cat for a month even if he seemed really nice other than all the screaming, but mama was the sweetest brightest orange cat and we will miss her.)

my kid suddenly realized she was gonna miss reeses cup as soon we got them out of the car at the shelter. she wanted to carry her (not too heavy, but too wobbly to feel confident, as it turns out). she looked like she was about to cry. I told her i'd miss her too, and it’s okay to be sad. she was amazed that i could tell she was sad. girl, you are doing this 🥺

anyway. now that mama isn't here, the kittens have been allowed out of the little room they've been in with their mom. which means that, though they've met her in passing, they suddenly have to deal with...

the Zoomcat.

(you know. the other cat, Zoomy, who i mentioned earlier. this shouldn’t be surprising information or anything i'm just a dramatic bitch.)

Ghost is being SO brave. my husband thought she was the most scared, but i'm convinced she just doesn't really like being picked up or most ways of petting. i think she will be a "sit near you" cat. she doesn't run away once she realizes you're not going for her. she's not scared. she was the first one with a paw out the door once we opened it. she's the one who stares down Zoomy. she is also, we are pretty sure, the one who start all the fights between the three of them. Bat and Pumpkin don't seem to fight on their own, but they both fight with her and the three of them will all fight together.

i see three paths for Ghost. she could rule the house with an iron fist, getting even Zoomy under her rule. she could just be a strong independent kitty who doesn't really need anyone else but does actually very much want to know what you're doing and would do really well as a solo kitty for someone who's not home a lot or just wants a cat they can hang out with and talk to but who won't climb on them or want to sit on them or be picked up (no disrespect in the in the notes to these people, some people get overstimulated but like cats and want companionship) and in this case omg i am going to bother this cat so much because if this is her we are kindred spirits. you can't go be a solo kitty you will be MY kitty and i'm gonna give you so many kisses. or. OR. she ends up too actually fighty and actually needs to go be a solo kitten. i do not want this. i would be so sad. i love her so much.

they're all doing well out here. i'm just so proud of Ghost. here's a picture i managed to get of her on the stairs 🙃

it was so easy to get pictures of them before but now they have a whole house to escape to! i always loved that Mitch Hedberg bit:

My apartment is infested with koala bears. It's the cutest infestation ever. Way better than cockroaches. When I turn on the light, a bunch of koala bears scatter. And I don't want 'em to. I'm like, 'Hey, hold on fellas - Let me hold one of you.'

well, now i am living it. hey, hold on babies - lemme take a decent picture of one of you.

[muntitled]

Poor thing ♡

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: sleepy gf ♡ horny bf

♡ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Smut +18 (Minors DNI) dumbification dollification, Slight ddlg, Brief Daddy Kink, Somnophilia, which means dub/con, Breeding Kink, Domestic Kink, Corruption Kink, Unedited, Mentions of Bondage

This might be tmi but I got turned on writing this and that's probably because I didn't realise how much I love this man. It's so bad girl, pray for me

You'd spoken about kink since the peroration of your relationship. It had been something you'd both decided was very important.

Although Jake admits he only thought kink was a few whips and rope, you assured him it was indeed a whole other world.

“What about somno?,” you'd asked him, while you both sat lazily on the comfort of your living room floor, soaking in the idle 808 beats of some Metro Boomin track while you both had a notebook out in front of you.

Although Jake craved for nothing more than to close the large distance between the two of you while you jotted down your sexual boundaries, even if it was just a hand placed on your thigh, he stopped himself.

He knew that distance was necessary when discussing sexual do’s and don'ts.

There couldn't be any sort of touching involved while you both fleshed out and divulged what would and would not be allowed within the sexual confines of your relationship.

All this talk about sex, however, had regressed his adult brain back into adolescence and he nursed an annoying boner the more you spoke.

“What's that?” He asked with his head tilted unconsciously. All you could do was chuckle softly as you eyed your boyfriend sitting on the floor adjacent to you. Your legs were splayed out and running parallel to his but still evaded the possibility of touch. You did not only find it adorable to witness just how much your boyfriend was trying to behave for you, you also found it so incredibly attractive.

“C'mon,” you had said as you shyly spun your finger on the rim of your glass containing a mild coke zero (no intoxication when discussing boundaries. Another infuriating rule, Jake found). “I do not have to explain to you what somno is,”

Jake only shrugged as he eyed you from across the small room. His back leaning against the couch was tense as he said, “afraid you do, babe,”

It was the way he was looking at you, with his eyes carelessly conveying just how turned on he'd managed to get during this short time of abstinence.

Your eyes never leave him when you talk. Hoping to convey your own need as you said “You can google it, Jake.”

“I can,” he nodded almost immediately, “Course I can, but I don't want to.”

What he didn't say is that he much rather preferred it when you used your words to divulge your knowledge on every filthy little detail about a particular kink. It turned him on to know what slept inside your mind and it made him uncharacteristically unhinged with lust when such dirty words left an unusually dignified mouth.

Corruption Kink. You had given him that diagnosis sometime throughout the evening.

“Jake,” you shake your head again, feeling the heat seep into the worn fabric of Jake's old Tupac shirt. It was probably unwise to be dressed in nothing but his oversized graphic tee and you're only made aware of this dire mistake right now. “You know.”

“No, actually, I don't.” He breaches the rules. Fuck the rules. And he lets his hand reach to tentatively rub at your cute little toe before returning his hand to his notebook.

“Tell me what somno is-”

“Sleep play.” You eventually shoved the words out of your mouth like unwanted visitors.

The second they registered in Jake's head he was sitting just a little straighter.

“Jesus…” Is all he said as he downed the rest of the 100% orange juice which he had really wished was 60% straight fucking vodka.

“Y-Yeah, but we don't really have to go into this one. I could just write it down in the ‘not interested’ list and we can just move on-” at the sight of you bending your head to furiously scribble inside the notebook containing the safety guidelines of your sex life, Jake reached out once again until his hand was perfectly encapsulating your entire foot.

“Nah, hold on.” He said, with a hint of a smile and nothing but sheer intrigue swimming in his eyes, “don't get rid of it yet.” He said. “Let's talk about it.” The devil shrugged. “Give it a fair chance.”

And although the evening had ended with Jake ravishing you on the living room floor -you were folded in half as he ate you out with the fervour of a starved man- Jake Sim did not incorporate any of the kink you two had just spoken about into the act.

In fact, all of your sexual escapades have been fairly vanilla with added hints of praise and degradation here and there before this very night.

Let it be clear that Jake Sim did not expect sex on this particular Thursday evening.

He had been having a particularly cursed day with nothing at all going right for him except the prospect of seeing you after dance practice. The possibility of you cradling him against the plushness of your breasts while you sang to him with your fingers running through his hair kept him afloat until he let himself into your apartment by the end of the day.

“Yo? ‘anyone home?”

Instead of finding you tapping away at your laptop or consuming a starkly provocative HBO original, Jake found you asleep, in your room. Fairy lights on while the sound of crashing waves bled through your phone speaker.

Before he got horny, let the record reflect that Jake was perfectly content with climbing into bed with you and dozing off himself. But he couldn't help how his body responded to the softness of your curves pressing into his side the moment he lowered himself onto your bed and into your warm pink quilts. He should be closing his eyes, dozing off alongside you but the longer he stares at the miniscule details of your face, the more his stomach tightens and warms.

Perhaps, venturing into more sinister territory, Jake's eyes skate down to your slightly open mouth and then- down to your frame nestled under his armpit, where you lay in a foetal position with your stuffed animal held in an almost primal grip.

It is then that the first beginning of guilt seeps into his lower stomach, feeling that he doesn't really wish to dissect, especially given your very persuasive reassurances that “kink should never feel icky if it's consensual.”

And you gave him your consent.

Jake still remembers your slightly laboured breathing when you admitted to being turned on by the idea of somnophilia.

The smile on Jake's face as he bends down to nestle his face in your headwrap is placid, like calm still waters on a Sunday afternoon. Doing a very good job at hiding the tempest within.

You stir in your sleep and Jake swallows thickly. With his lips still pressed against your head, he stares into space with a vague look of worry and discontent. He knows, logically, that he should not feel bad for what he's about to do. It was only human, after all, to feel sexual desire for your partner. What did not feel normal, however, is how he managed to grow impossibly hard in his sweatpants, and all you've done was sleep, you poor thing.

This time when you shift again, it's to hike your leg up further along his torso, and unbeknownst to you, a broken moan seeps out of Jake's mouth because your leg is now brushing right up against his tense and hardened cock. Jake attempts to regulate his breathing through his nose (in and out, in and out) but his brain loses sight of how unethical this all is under the realisation of just how warm you are underneath him. The arm he had wrapped around your frame flexes as he brings his hand up to the curve of your voluptuous hips. It's then when he thinks about them… you having his kids, and suddenly, he's manoeuvring you even closer into his arms.

“Jakey? Baby, you home?”

Home.

It felt so domestic and it didn't help the heat seeping out of Jake's tense body.

Your groans perpetuate through the confines of the bedroom. You're slowly waking from one of those ghastly kinds of naps. The kind of nap that existed outside space and time and everything else in the known universe. The kind of nap that had you groggily opening your eyes crowded with crust as you try to make sense of your surroundings.

His voice is raspy as he whispers back, “I’m home, Bunny,” Everything in the universe begins to right itself when Jake presses a warm, slightly sloppy kiss to the top of your head and you can feel yourself coming to grips with your surroundings. A warm sigh leaves your mouth and you melt into the sensuality of Jake's second kiss which he displays across the side of your face, moving lower and lower and hiking up your leg still splayed over his lap.

Jake's eyes are closed, brows furrowed and his kiss is lingering. His lips never stray from your skin and you can feel your limp, half asleep body being pressed in further against his warmth. You're suddenly becoming all too aware of your core pressed against Jake's hips at this angle; you and your boyfriend's limbs are practically intertwined.

His warmth is all encompassing.

“Ja-What…” a sleepy little yawn squeaks out of your throat and you unconsciously bring a limp hand up to wipe away all the sleep.

Jake watches you with grave, grave admiration. The kind of feeling that squeezes at his heart and, perhaps more shamefully, his cock. “What time is it?”

“Not important, Bunny,” he kisses you again. Heaven's he was brimming with kisses for you. They felt like a lullaby, coaxing you back to bed. “Just go back to bed,”

Those particular words have you blinking up at your boyfriend who begins to come into focus under the hazy orange glow of the fairy lights. Your body stretches ever so slightly as you crane your head up to meet his half lidded eyes.

“What time is it-” you begin to answer again, but Jake stops you once again.

“You don't need to worry your pretty brain about stuff like that,” he nudges his chin towards you as if beckoning to play along with this scene he's orchestrated for the two of you. Despite feeling your heart strings tugging at the idea of playing along, you're still very much plagued by rationality.

“Jake- Baby, you have practice tomorrow. I don't think you can sleep over-”

“But pretty girls don't think,” he nestles his head into the crook of your shoulders and he squeezes. Once again, begging you to play along, “You never have to think when you have me.”

You could feel the better part of you being dragged into the safe, plush wonderland of your subspace, just from his words alone. When Jake doesn't get a response he pulls back to make eye contact with you once more, Sickeningly satisfied to see the fog beginning to fill your pupils.

“But, Jakey-” he has you. He knows he has you.

“You still sound so sleepy, Baby,” he whispers, and you're quite shocked to find yourself being lifted off the bed, “You want Jakey to help take the sleepiness away, don't you?”

Another kink you two had discussed ad nauseum but had failed to ever orchestrate in real time. It happened flawlessly between you both. A torrid yet natural dance. Ddlg, you called it.

Jake is still lying supine on the bed as he manoeuvres you to straddle his legs. Your hands anchor yourself by the rough skin of his torso through his pitch black shirt while his hands find home on your thigh, “I need you to help me out and then you won't be sleepy anymore, yeah?” The smile he gives you is enough to get any person to bend to his every will and so you find yourself nodding dumbly, with your eyes still half lidded, and a part of your brain experiencing a sleeplike calmness. “Jakey needs you to be good for him, okay?” You swallow thickly and yelp when Jake lifts his hips, subsequently lifting you as if you weighed nothing at all. His eyes are pained when he uncovers his hard, leaking dick from his sweatpants. You're not sure if it's the sleepiness still raining heavily on you but you're suddenly plagued by the need to enclose his cock in your hand.

So that's what you do

With your limbs operating on autopilot, your hand falls lazily over his cock while you tiredly rub your left eye with your other hand.

“F-Fuck, Bunny- What're you doing?” Jake looks up at you with wild, pained eyes and you peer down at him with a tilted head. Ever so clueless. Ever so beautiful, “I wanna help,” You whisper and his cock immediately twitches in your hand, “I wanna help,” You mumble as you lower your front against his, nuzzling into his neck while you sleepily begin to pump his cock.

Your chin hangs over his shoulder as your eyes flutter shut, all the while, Jake bites his bottom lip until he's on the verge of breaking skin.

“You're trying to off me, you know that?” Jake whispers into your ear as the warmth of your palm struggles to keep him thinking rationally. Unable to stop himself from lifting his hips slightly to grind against your hand, Jake hopes for more friction, more fucking pressure, but it never comes. Not when you've basically passed out on top of him.

“F-Fuck me,” Jake whispers as he lift his hands to lightlyoaw at your hips. “You're making me fucking insane, you know that?” Jake's voice is coated with singsong need as he shuffles you lower on his torso until your hips meet his. “You said this is okay, didn't you baby?” The only answer he gets in return is a few lightly snores as he lifts you up, having you hover djrectly over his aching cock, twitching to be inside you.

For a while Jake is perfectly content with humping lazily against your pyjama pants as you shuffle intermittently.

His hands rub over your back, feeling your chest pressed against his before drifting his hand down to the curve of your ass and the thin pyjama shorts hugging your hips.

He immediately decides he can't do it.

“Daddy needs to be inside you, Bunny.” Your breasts push against him as he reaches down to swipe your pyjama pants and your oantjes to the side, “Your hands and mouth…They just won't do, baby. I need to fuck you, d'you understand?” he asks with so much concern and so much consideration it would have your heart clenching in its cage if you were conscious.

Jake's breath is caught in his throat as the head of his cock prods at your tight opening. As he tries to guide his cock in, you shift a little over him, causing him to pat lovingly at your back, coaxing you to sleep as he forced his cock into your cunt. Instead of swallowing him like you usually did, your cunt is vehemently trying to push out the intrusion, which only succeeds in turning him on more.

Jake buries his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing in your scent as he pushes himself in despite the tight fit.

“You're gonna make me cum so quick, Princess,” he whispers into your hair.

You barely made it 10 pumps before your shuffling above him with your cunt was split into two.

He wanted to use you, he needed to make you his dumb, unresponsive toy and Jake shivers as a bead of precum streams down the side of his cock.

“You're doing so good for me,” his hips lift as his hand on your ass presses down, forcing you to meet his steadily growing thrusts“You don't wanna disappoint me, do you?” he asks your cute, sleeping form. As if in response to his words, your body subconsciously reacts and your cunt tightens around his cock, immediately sending Jake into a bitter delirium.

Soon, his head is thrown back into the pillows and both his hands are firmly on your ass as he begins to fuck up into you with less care. “F-Fuck Princess, I think I could cum like this,”

You're shuffling again. Threatening to wake up. It only has Jake fucking you harder, bringing him closer to the edge.

“F-Fuck-this fucking pussy-” You were being split in two. You on top of him somehow felt like he was going deeper than how he usually went. “Oh God, you're so warm, Bunny,” He exclaims, looking up at the ceiling with his own pained expression, completely and utterly trapped in his dom space as he begins to move you up and down on his cock.

Your limp body followed, unable to conjure up the strength of your own movements. He had all the control over all your movements, kinda like-

“Y-You're my toy, aren't you, Bunny?” Jake is so completely fargone as he watches your ass bounce with each of his rabid thrusts, completely uncaring over whether you're awake or not. “Fuck, you’re my fucking toy,” Jake's a blubbering mess and it only makes you wetter as you slowly blink open your eyes, in the very middle of one of your most prized fantasy’s. Your cunt squeezes around his cock. Your heart hammering in your chest. Your orgasm crests along with his.

You had never thought you'd ever know what a sleepy orgasm would feel like but somehow you knew it would ram through you with way too much intensity.

“You like me deep inside, yeah? You like being split open while you sleep, Bunny? Hm? You're so fucking perfect you know that? So fucking pretty- J need you to have my babies, yeah?” The more he talks, the more it's difficult to pretend to stay asleep. A groggy and tired moan slips out of your mouth while your arousal slips out of your leaking cunt. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? Us having babies.”

Jake's hips stutter against yours. His jaw is locked tight as you clench around him, “F-Fuck you would like that-” It is then that you're starkly aware of the hidden narcissism that this kink bred. Here he was, using you to get off with only himself as the audience. Jake was guiding himself to orgasm with his own dirty words as if he were God and somehow that thought succeeds in bringing you to orgasm.

“Oh God, Jake-”

“You need me to get you pregnant, don't you?” Your head nods almost unconsciously, without the permission of your rational brain and Jake speeds up his fucking into you, as orchestrating a new form of movement. He was always leading you, even when it came to his pleasure.

“Just like that, Bunny,” he always praised you without a second thought…

Jake is working himself to orgasm with short, shallow breaths. His hips lift to thrust into your dripping cunt and in his mind he's about to come to the fact that you really are his toy.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum,” he whispers into the side of your head, “Your leaky fucking pussy's going to make me cum, Bunny-”

His orgasm triggers another one of your own and both your legs spasm, locking around him as Jake releases his cum deep inside you. His hand clenched down on your hips, forcing you to take in every single drop until it's forcing itself out of your dripping cunt, trailing down your thigh. After riding the high of his orgasm, Jake looks bright eyed again, like he's gotten rid of something very dark and very oppressive until the sunny Jake Sim was back.

“So good,” he smiles down at you, “You always do so well for me”

[menagerofmischief]

Can I please have Oscar piastri and lando Norris ,stuffed cherry tomatoes ,hot appetizer ,pizza ,carbonara chicken quesadilla ,grilled cheese ,boba and whiskey 🙏🙏

Dia's Diner Menu

stuffed cherry tomatoes sugar daddy hot appetizer sweet sex pizza "My good girl" carbonara "Look so good on my cock" chicken quesadilla "So pretty with my cock down your throat" grilled cheese "I buy you nice things and then I get to fuck you in them, sounds fair to me" boba anal whiskey double penetration

Lando Norris x sugar baby!girlfriend!reader x Oscar Piastri

TW: blowjob, fingering, PiV, PiA, double penetration, threesome, rich people being rich people

WC: 1.7k

A/N: first off, tysm for 200+ followers, I love you all. now, this is my first threesome fic so bear with me if it isn't that great. anyways, enjoy your papaya sandwich

“I really don’t think you needed to buy me this many things.” I said, opening the apartment door for Lando and Oscar to come inside, their hands full of bags. 

Today was shopping day and Lando and Oscar had insisted on dragging me into every single store we came across, no matter what was being sold inside. 

Technically all of this did start as a money arrangement, to make it easier for me to afford living in Monaco because while it may be tax free the cost of living here was still very big. So what started as a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship to cover my apartment cost along with some other luxuries quickly turned into more.

Especially considering the two of them somehow roped me into moving in with both of them, when they weren’t even living together in the first place. And really, I wasn’t with them for the money they could offer me, I loved them. And I knew they loved me too, they always made sure to tell me that … and show me as well.

I look over the bags they put down and pick up an orange Hermes bag from the floor. Once it’s in my hands I look down, confused by what’s inside. I reach my hands into the bag and pull out the object inside.

“Okay,” I say, holding it up. “Who bought an Hermes sleeping mask? I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

I look between the two of them and I immediately know which one it was. Sure, Oscar loves buying random stuff, and lot’s of stuff. But the stuff Oscar buys is, more normal, dare I say.

“I think it’s very nice,” Lando says, nodding his head. He reaches out his hands and I pass the sleeping mask to him.

“Lando, it has a whole bunch of padding inside, it looks like leather ate a cloud.” I tell him, observing the mask. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I hope you bought it for yourself, because I’m not wearing that.”

“It’s trendy,” he defends, proudly holding it up.

“I don’t think it is, mate.” Oscar says, rolling his eyes at Lando who in return glares at him. “It looks like one of those things you buy while waiting for them to offer you a Birkin.” His gaze moves to me and he offers me a smile. “By the way, do you like the Birkin we got you?”

At that, I move to grab a much larger Hermes bag that glaring up at me from the pile and now that I’m looking at it, I don’t know how I haven’t seen it yet. “What!?” I open the shopping bag and pull out a very expensive, very new Birkin from it. “Literally when did you get this?”

“When you returned to the grocery store to buy ketchup.”

“God, you two are impossible!” I groan, storing the bag away with caution. “We already talked about spending extensive amounts of money on me for things I don’t need.”

“But we love spending money on you!” Oscar protests, shutting down whatever ‘shopping ban’ talk I was preparing because we always did this.

“And I’m very grateful for that,” I tell him, leaning over and placing a kiss on his cheek. “But then it makes me feel bad because I can’t repay you -”

“We don’t want you to repay us!” He quickly shut me off.

“Although,” Lando says, the tone of his voice enough for me to know in which direction the rest of his sentence will be heading. “If you want to repay us, I know a way you can do it.”

Lando grinned at me, one his cheeky boyish smiles and I could feel Oscar’s gaze on me. I smile, dipping my head in a half nod. “Let’s go boys.”

And that’s how we ended up in the bedroom just moments after. I took off my dress, both boys groaning at the sight of the lingerie I was wearing underneath. It was a matching set with lacy bra and crotchless panties they bought me the last time they insisted on going shopping. 

“Fuck sweetheart,” Oscar groaned, his hands running over my body, fingers moving along the outline of my breasts. “You look breathtaking.” 

I blushed at the compliment, moving my hands behind my back to unclasp the bra but before I could, Lando grabbed my hands and pushed them back. “Leave it baby,” he said, leaning forward so I could feel his breath on my neck. “We buy you nice things, and then we get to fuck you in them. Sounds fair to me, don’t you agree Oscar?”

I could see Oscar’s eyes darken, clouded with lust. His voice was rough when he spoke, his hands gripping my waist. “I absolutely agree, Lando.”

I felt Lando’s hands slip down and cup my ass, giving it a squeeze. “Think you can take us both at the same time tonight, baby?”

I nodded, instantly. We had done this before, one of them fucking my pussy while the other was fucking my ass. “Yes, please!” I said with a slight whine. I may have been a little eager but I loved when they did that.

“Why don’t you suck Oscar off while I open you up, baby?” Lando said. It may have sounded like a question but it was much more of a command, one I was gladly planning to obey. 

I gave a nod in reply and the boys wasted no time in getting undressed. Oscar laid down on the bed and positioned himself half sitting up against the headboard. I crawled over him, leaning down and placing a few kisses on his stomach and thighs.

I could feel Lando position himself behind me and heard him squeezing lube out onto his fingers. I leaned down, pressing my lips against the tip of Oscar’s leaking dick, giving it a suck before taking the rest of him down my throat.

Oscar’s hand wrapped in my hair, not tugging, just holding me there. I breathed in through my nose to steady myself, gagging a bit from how far down my throat he was.

One of Oscar’s hand cupped my cheek, making me look up at him through my lashes. “Fuck sweetheart, you look so pretty with my cock down your throat.”

I started slowly moving my head along his shaft, running my tongue along the underside, causing Oscar to groan, slightly bucking his hips up. Lando’s fingers circled my hole a few times before slowly pushing in, making me moan around Oscar’s dick.

I continued sucking Oscar off, spit running down my chin and tears filling the corners of my eyes while Lando worked on opening up my whole, now steadily thrusting two fingers in and out of me. 

I could feel Oscar getting close by the way his thighs tensed under my hands, and his groans got louder. Before I could do anything, his fingers tightened in my hair and he pulled my head away from his dick. 

“Wanna cum when I’m in you sweetheart.” He said, his voice raspy.

Lando laid a gentle smack against my ass, his fingers pulling out of me making me whine at the loss of fullness. “Go on,” he said, signaling for me to move up.

I moved myself further up Oscar’s body, my dripping pussy rubbing against his cock, the tip nudging against my clit, making me moan. 

“Come on, sweetheart.” Oscar said, helping me sink down on his dick which hit all the right spots inside of me. “There we go,” he cooed, leaning forward to peck me on the lips. “Look so good on my cock.”

I tried to keep myself as relaxed as possible while Lando spread my ass cheeks and started slowly pushing himself inside of my other hole. Oscar rubbed his hands along my back in a comforting manner as Lando pushed the rest of himself inside of me, making me gasp, slightly out of breath.

“You’re taking me so well,” Lando said before leaning down and placing a kiss on my back. “So well, baby. That’s my good girl.”

They both stilled, waiting for me to give a go-ahead for them to move. I took a breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Move, please,” I said, my voice coming out more as a whine. “Please, need it.”

Lando started first, pulling himself out halfway before pushing back in. Oscar followed, planting his feet firmly against the bed so he could thrust up into me. They went slow, opting for slower, deeper and more passionate experience, rather than the fast, desperate and hard one they usually provided. 

I could feel my orgasm approaching, the stimulation of being filled in both holes and passion I could feel cursing between the three of us quickly bringing me to the edge.

Oscar sneaked his hand between our bodies and his fingers quickly found my clit. He toyed with it, rubbing it in circles. At the same time, Lando reached his hands around me, grabbing my tits and pinching my nipples through the material of the bra.

I couldn’t manage no warning other than the loud, pornographic moan that escaped me as I came. Both boys kept fucking me trough my orgasm, their own following soon after.

Oscar came first, his dick twitching as he emptied himself inside of me. Lando came right after, a grunt slipping past his lips as his cum filled up my ass. 

They both waited, giving me a moment to catch my breath before pulling out of me. I flipped over and laid down next to Oscar. Lando came over and laid down on my other side.

“We may have to spend more money if this is how you repay us.” Oscar said, wrapping his arms around me. 

Lando hummed, leaning his head down on my chest. “How about we buy you a car next. Then you can take us for a joy ride in it.”

“That’s possibly the best idea you’ve ever had, Lando.” Oscar replied with a hum.

“God, you two are insatiable.”

[pin-k-ink]

BACK IN THE GAME ⋆✦⋆ hinata shoyo

synopsis ➸ fresh off a trip from brazil, hinata’s crashing at kenma’s place. the last thing he expected? being drawn to his old friend’s daughter

tags ➸ dilf!hinata, dad’s best friend trope (kinda), age gap, sexual tension, hinata and kenma have some tension between them (and it’s not the good kind), sorta ooc hinata, me mentioning his happy trail every five sentences, groping, dry humping, making out, biting, spanking, daddy kink, rough sex, blow job, face fucking, deepthroating/throat bulge, nipple play, fingering, overstimulation, dirty talking, kitchen sex, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, begging, hair pulling, manhandling

wc ➸ 16.4k 💀

The rhythmic pounding echoed down the hallway, rousing you from your half-doze on the living room couch. You frowned blearily at the Netflix menu awaiting your resumption, ears perking at the unexpected sound of knocking on your front door.

Glancing at the clock, you couldn't help but bristle at the late-night intrusion. Didn't these losers ever just take a hint and leave you alone at this hour? Your dad may have been a famous streamer in his heyday, but that didn't give creeps free rein to wander up to your doorstep at all hours.

"Dad?" you called out in a raised voice to no response. Typical. Kenma slept like the dead most nights these days.

With an aggrieved huff, you snagged your baseball bat leaning against the bookshelf and stomped to the entryway. Through the peephole, the shadowy figure of a sturdily built man loomed close to the door, hand still raised mid-knock.

"Yeah, whaddaya want?" you barked out bluntly before your apprehension could spike any higher.

A brief pause, then a warm, distinctly male chuckle reverberated through the thick wood. "Well now, that's one heck of a way to greet an old friend after all these years! Kenma didn't mention his daughter was so...feisty."

You arched one eyebrow, taking in the rich timbre of his voice - smooth velvet with a hint of rasp that sent an inadvertent shiver tracing down your spine. Repositioning the bat over your shoulder, you pulled open the door to face the mystery man fully for the first time.

And immediately had to tighten your suddenly slack grip on your improvised weapon, lest it go clattering straight to the floor.

This was no vagrant creep or overzealous groupie eyeing you predatorily in the dim lighting. The figure standing there exuded the sort of unbridled masculine charisma that conjured half-baked fantasies about a forbidden tryst with your hot older teacher from high school days. Only...magnified exponentially into the stuff of genuine wet dreams now rendered flesh.

From the tousled carrot-orange thatch to the sculpted musculature rippling beneath his well-worn shirt with every subtle shift, this man was the literal embodiment of tall-dark-and-smoldering personified. And those eyes - vibrant pools of rich amber that seemed to gleam with unbridled mischief even surrounded by the crows-feet and laughter lines of someone clearly on the wiser side of his prime.

You swallowed hard against the sudden dryness coating the back of your throat despite your best efforts. Forcing a disaffected look to the contrary, you shrugged carelessly and made a point of raking an appreciative once-over up and down his form as blatantly as possible.

"Yeesh, you sure this is the right house, old man?" you drawled, deliberately pitching your tone into a low lilt that never failed to rile up horny douchebags in the past. "Because if you were looking for a hookup with a hot young thing like me tonight, we both know you're seriously barking up the wrong tree, Daddy."

Rather than look suitably shocked or affronted by your veiled taunts, the rugged older man simply chuckled again - a rough, airy sound that raised goosebumps anew along your arms in a way that set your nerves thrilling dangerously. Those striking amber eyes positively gleamed beneath hooded lids as he regarded you with an inscrutable expression.

"I always forget how spirited Kenma's little girl grew up being," he mused, the low rumble vibrating straight through you. "But I promise you this - your old Uncle Shoyo would never disrespect you like that if he was looking for a good time tonight."

At those words uttered so casually, your breath stuttered dangerously in your lungs as the ground seemed to shift sideways all of a sudden. Jaw plummeting slack, you gawped at this stranger in your doorway with fresh awareness dawning.

"Uncle...Shoyo?" you echoed dumbly. Like the legendary Monster Generation volleyball star that your dad occasionally reminisced about in his youth? That Uncle Shoyo?

The man's bright smile widened to boyish degrees crinkles radiating outwards from the corners of those molten amber eyes that still somehow managed to glitter with devilish hints despite his mature age. "The one and only! Though I guess it would be more accurate to call me Uncle Hinata these days, now that I'm an old geezer in your eyes."

Before you could summon any further response, another rich baritone voice echoed from somewhere deeper in the apartment. "Shoyo? That really you?"

You pivoted instinctively with your jaw still hanging slack as the familiar silhouette of your father appeared around the hall corner - all tousled bedhead and barely-contained excitement shining from his pale amber gaze now.

"Kenma! It's me alright, just like I promised," Uncle Hinata—Hinata exclaimed, already ambling forward to enfold your dad in a tight embrace. "Brazil hasn't changed a thing, buddy. Still somehow managed to grow taller than you even after all these years."

"Oh please," your dad retorted without any real heat, hugging his apparent childhood friend in turn. "Says the guy who spent a whole decade getting brain damage in the sand just so he could keep jumping a few inches higher until retiring."

The two men - former athletic rivals turned coworkers turned...whatever their bond was nowadays - shared a laugh you felt utterly excluded from. In that suspended heartbeat, you couldn't help but rake your eyes over Hinata's tall, rangy frame once more in renewed scrutiny.

Somehow the man beamed with youthful vibrancy and rakish appeal you'd assumed impossible for someone your dad's age and station in life - everything from that windswept tousle of sunset hair to the laidback charisma radiating from his very pores like some eternal beach spirit entranced you dangerously.

"So you're really him...?" you murmured once your mental faculties finally rebooted with a jolt. "The infamous Ninja Shoyo that Dad never shuts up about?"

A strange mixture of relief and renewed intrigue flickered across Hinata's striking features as his molten gaze returned to you - flicking up and down your frame with unabashed appraisal that made you straighten self-consciously.

"That's me..." he drawled in that low, smoky timbre that plucked straight at something deep in your feminine hindbrain. "Though nobody has called me that kinda name in years now, [Y/N]. Hard to be a ninja master when the rest of the world grows up faster than you do..."

At the playful self-deprecation, his eyes crinkled in that way that did utterly sinful things to your rapidly pounding pulse you refused to examine too closely. You forced a scoffing sound, jutting one hip out in an artless sprawl you hoped came across as aloof rather than captivated.

"Well you sure made one hell of an entrance tonight for being a 'retired old geezer,'" you couldn't resist taunting, relishing in the way his intense amber stare remained riveted to you as the faintest curl teased the corner of that full, expressive mouth.

"I just don't see what the big fuss was about if you were really such hot stuff back then," you drawled, deliberately dipping into that same honeyed lilt that had always been Kryptonite for cocky douchebags in your vicinity before. "But then again...maybe you are a different breed afterall, Uncle Shoyo..."

You held Hinata's gaze steadily, refusing to falter beneath the renewed heat you could have sworn flared behind those penetrating eyes as your meaning registered with naked clarity in the space between you. Your heart hammered a wild, furious tattoo against your ribcage that you couldn't quite place or dismiss the implications of just yet.

All you knew in that suspended breath of charged silence was that no matter how or why, this particular worldly older man - one you expected you should still view in some detached, innocuous uncle-figure capacity - had effortlessly sideswiped your flustered wits and begged exploration of places you could never revisit unscathed again.

The tension only mounted as you hastily retreated to the kitchen, mind whirling while you prepared a tray of tea with shaky hands. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the burn of Hinata's lingering stare nor the visceral lure of his powerfully-built frame.

Unseemly thoughts crept in of how those strong hands might feel on your body - calloused palms mapping every dip and curve with rough insistence as he crowded you against the nearest surface. You bit your lip hard, imagining the scrape of his stubbled jaw branding your fevered skin while pinning you in place with that intense smolder alone.

By the time the tea finished steeping, you grabbed the tray and took a fortifying breath before heading back to the living room. Uncle Shoyo and your dad were settled on the couch, deep in familiar conversation that felt almost jarring in its animation compared to Kenma's usual reservation.

You hung back for a moment, surreptitiously drinking in the sight of the older Hinata with fresh, unfettered appreciation. The sleeves of his t-shirt clung to every flexing cord of muscle in his biceps and forearms with each emphatic gesture, straining in a way you refused to find tantalizing.

More distracting still was the fabric pulled taut across the defined ridges and hard planes of his abdomen - clearly outlining the intriguing trail of auburn hair disappearing into the snug waistband of his pants. You swallowed hard, pulse thrumming as you watched that obscenely fit torso undulate and stretch with every deep inhale and rich laugh rumbled free.

"Oh [Y/N], there you are," your dad's voice rang out abruptly, startling you. He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing as his gaze swept over your flustered expression. "Everything okay there? You look a little...feverish."

Heat flooded your cheeks as Hinata turned those scorching amber eyes towards you once more, shameless interest glinting from their depths. His stare raked over your form in a lingering, unabashed appraisal that made you want to squirm like a prize heifer on display.

"Hmm, you might be onto something there, Kenma," Hinata drawled in that low, rumbling timbre that sent tingles dancing down your spine. "She did look maybe a little worked up about something when she came back just now..."

"Uncle Shoyo!" you sputtered despite yourself, outrage burning away any lingering embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thanks for your concern."

Kenma continued scrutinizing you with that canny, assessing look he always wore when suspecting you were up to no good. You jutted your chin up stubbornly, meeting his stony gaze in wordless challenge until Hinata chuckled softly.

"Hey now, no need to get so riled up right off the bat!" he interjected placatingly, hands raised in mock surrender. "I was just messing around, [Y/N]. We're all friends here, right?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but faltered at the heated undertone of his words and the sly wink accompanying them. Kenma scoffed loudly then, scowl deepening as his focus swiveled to pin Hinata with an exasperated glare that promised retribution.

"Don't even try it, old man," your dad growled with an almost protective edge. "My daughter isn't one of those groupies constantly throwing themselves at your feet back in Rio, understand?"

Hinata laughed again, completely unbothered as he angled that hulking frame forward. His shirt rode up obscenely, revealing a tantalizing strip of tanned, toned abdomen you couldn't seem to tear your eyes away from despite your best efforts.

"Easy, Kenma!" Hinata rumbled, lush lips curved in a wicked grin that promised sweet sin. "I think it goes without saying that [Y/N] here is way out of an old beach bum's league. Was just messing around is all..."

He trailed off then, once more dragging his blatant perusal up the length of your body with liquid heat in his smoldering stare. You clenched your thighs instinctively, desire and outrage warring as your teeth dug into your lower lip to stifle any reactions.

The next few moments seemed to stretch into a thick, electrically-charged silence. You, your father, and Hinata simply regarding one another - the weight of unspoken tension and challenge thrumming through the air with every weighted pause. Until finally, you broke it by clearing your throat and stepping forward.

"Well, I brought the tea you wanted," you announced airily, like nothing untoward had just happened. "Then I'll be going to my room if you two want to keep reminiscing about the good old days."

"[Y/N]..." your dad started in a tone of clear warning, eyes narrowing as you stepped past their tangle of limbs on the couch to set the tray on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about it," Hinata interjected smoothly, rising to his towering height with languid, boneless grace you tried not to notice. "Your old Uncle Shoyo is probably overstaying his welcome as it is tonight."

He cast you one final, heated look from beneath lowered lashes, expression utterly inscrutable beyond the banked hunger simmering there. Then without another word, he turned and prowled towards the guest bedroom in a loose-limbed lope you tried desperately not to track too closely.

Only once his broad, muscular back disappeared from view did you let out a shaky breath. Kenma remained seated on the couch, radiating a silent but palpable displeasure and glaring accusation you refused to acknowledge directly.

So instead, you strode forward and leaned down to press a chaste peck to his cheek while avoiding eye contact entirely. "Goodnight, Dad. I'll see you in the morning."

Then before he could respond or break the tension hanging thick in the air, you spun on your heel and hurried to the sanctuary of your bedroom - every molecule buzzing with the unsettled aftershocks of Hinata's disarming presence so near.

Because as much as you tried to deny or bury it, his raw masculine vitality and promise of unshackled experience called to you on a primal, instinctual level. Echoing through your thundering pulse in a siren song of temptation you knew could only lead to utter ruination in its wake if you let your guard down...but that seemed increasingly inevitable with each passing second.

The next morning, you shuffled out of your bedroom in rumpled pajamas and messy bedhead, stifling a yawn. The memory of Hinata's unexpected arrival had already begun to fade into a vivid but surreal blur against the slate of your drowsy morning routine.

At least, until you rounded the corner into the kitchen and pulled up short with a sharp inhale. There stood the man himself - tall, broad-shouldered, and utterly shirtless, giving you an unobstructed view of his chiseled back flexing as he rummaged through your cabinets.

You felt your mouth go abruptly dry, gaze riveted to the tantalizing vee of muscle trailing down from his sculpted shoulders, dipping into the waistband of those low-slung sweatpants hugging his hips enticingly. Each subtle shift and roll of his powerful frame drew your hungry stare, unable to look away.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Hinata rumbled without turning around, as if sensing your presence instinctively. "Your dad said he had some company stuff to deal with early, so he stuck me with babysitting duty for now."

You blinked dazedly for a beat, still struggling to reconcile this morning vision of masculine glory before you. The crisp auburn hair tousled by sleep, the enticing glide of defined musculature shifting beneath tanned skin, the shameless confidence radiating off him in delicious waves...

Clearing your throat, you finally managed to find your voice around the lump of arousal lodged there. "I hardly need a babysitter, old man," you drawled in what you hoped sounded nonchalant. "Especially not from family friends who look closer to collecting social security than—"

Hinata finally turned then, bracing one hip against the counter and propping his arms behind him as those molten amber eyes swept over your body from head to toe in a single scorching appraisal. Your breath hitched at the lingering heat dripping off the heated rumble of his next words.

"Watch that smart mouth of yours before it really does get you into trouble, sweetheart," he crooned, lips curved into a wicked smirk that bordered on indecent promise. "You really think your dad asked me to stick around and play nice this morning?"

Despite your best efforts, your traitorous gaze couldn't help but skate over every taut line and definition of his exposed torso shamelessly. The crisp trail of auburn hair disappearing beneath those sweatpants seemed like an insistent beacon, taunting your curiosity.

Clearing your throat again, you forced your attention to the half-chopped produce on the kitchen island. With slightly shaky movements, you grabbed a knife and began working on the remaining ingredients to distract yourself from the living sexual fantasy just a few feet away.

"Well considering he pays the bills around here," you tossed out as breezily as possible, still not meeting Uncle Shoyo's stare directly. "I think it's pretty safe to assume your role this morning is closer to the 'creepy uncle nobody likes' end of the spectrum."

A low chuckle reverberated through the open kitchen, low and syrupy in a way that made your heart stutter. You risked a glance over to find Hinata's eyes utterly fixated on you now – devouring your every move as you brandished the sharp knife with utterly rapt interest.

"Whatever you say, pumpkin," he purred, shifting his stance subtly to cross one sinewy arm over his abdomen in a way that made all those flexing ridges pop in sinful definition. "But I gotta warn you, your little jabs don't exactly have the effect you think on me..."

Your mouth went bone dry once more as he raked that brazen stare over your sleep-tousled bedhead next, unruly mop and all. Then those full lips quirked in a way that made you want to simultaneously combust and punch him right in that shameless mouth.

"In fact, they kinda just make me want to bend you over this counter and teach you some proper manners until you're begging for mercy all night, sweetheart."

You almost missed the suggestive lilt at the end, abruptly choking as his words slammed into you like a physical force. The knife slipped in your grip slicing neatly into your thumb as a startled yelp punched its way free.

"Shit!" you hissed, sucking the shallow graze instinctively only to see a few glistening beads of crimson well forth.

"Whoa there, easy!" Suddenly Hinata was crowding into your space without any warning, large hand closing over yours to inspect the damage with surprising tenderness. "Let me take a look at that, [Y/N]."

Before you could respond, Hinata's hand was coaxing yours up towards those full lips with intent simmering in those hooded embers. You watched in stunned silence as his tongue darted out to swipe over the tiny wound in one long, heated glide—only to suck your thumb directly into the wet heat of his mouth with a low groan of apparent satisfaction.

Every muscle in your body instantly seized up at the erotic massage of his tongue swirling deliberately around the pad in a sensual slide. Watching those sharp cheekbones hollow with each languid pull, you felt the throb between your legs intensify to an almost painful ache of pure, thwarted need. But you seemed incapable of looking away, utterly transfixed.

Uncle Shoyo maintained searing eye contact as his dexterous tongue swiped over every nuance of your thumb with devoted reverence, chasing every copper tinge hungrily. Then with one final swirl that made you stifle a desperate whimper, he slowly released the digit from captivity with a harsh exhale – eyeing your swollen lips with naked hunger as a slick trail of saliva clung between you in an obscene string.

"Be careful now, beautiful," he rumbled in that deep, gravelly timbre that sank talons into your very core. His gaze scorched over your body once more as he stepped back slowly and ambled back towards the exit without a backwards glance. "I'd hate to have to really punish you next time if you keep taunting me like this..."

Then he was gone, leaving you standing there bereft and throbbing deliriously with frustrated longing in the empty kitchen. Because you knew deep down the provocative Uncle had just issued point-blank challenge and promise: that this was only the opening gambit in his heated pursuit, and he had zero intentions of backing down until you'd been claimed utterly.

Unable to resist any longer, you slumped back against the counter on trembling legs and slid one hand between your thighs with a desperate keen – already picturing Hinata's smoldering mug as you sought frantic release in his smoldering wake. Because despite your best efforts, you were now officially hooked on indulging in the forbidden byproducts of his unshackled virility – no matter how dangerous or ruinous the ultimate destination...

You barely made it back to your bedroom before collapsing against the door, legs trembling violently as the aftershocks of Uncle Shoyo's brazen stunt continued ricocheting through your veins. A whimper punched free as your thighs clenched instinctively, the memory of his ravenous stare haunting you as he slowly, purposefully released your thumb from captivity.

Heat coiled molten and liquid in your belly as you palmed your breasts roughly through the thin cotton tanks, thumbing over rapidly pebbling nipples. Squeezing your eyes shut, you could practically feel Hinata's searing presence looming over you once more - massive palms engulfing your curves as his calloused fingertips teased sensitive flesh with maddening patience...

Before you could surrender fully to fantasy's sweet oblivion, however, a strange urge gripped you. Almost frantic, you shed your rumpled pajamas and quickly rushed to the shower to freshen up before you busied yourself rummaging through your dresser and closet for a fresh dress to change into. You needed to get out of this house, away from the lingering fog of temptation still swirling thick and cloying after such an intimate morning encounter. At least for a little while...

Finally settling on a soft, breezy yellow sundress, you slipped it on hastily and attempted to secure the back tie yourself. But after several frustrating attempts, you realized with an inward groan that the ribbons were too tangled.

"Dammit..." you huffed under your breath, smoothing the front over your hips with rigid motions. You swept your gaze towards the vanity mirror, preparing to just gather your hair over one shoulder and let it hang for now.

The delicious expanse of tanned skin and flexing muscle that greeted you instead nearly sent you crashing to your knees with a dismayed cry.

There, leaning one broad shoulder against the doorframe and utterly at ease, stood Shoyo in nothing but those obscenely slung sweatpants riding sinfully low on his chiseled hips. Streaks of early morning sunlight gilded every defined ridge and hollow of his upper body in buttery warmth, licking over flaring biceps and the mouthwatering trail of auburn hair trailing temptingly beneath the loose waistband.

"You look like you could use a hand there," Hinata rumbled in that smoky baritone you were quickly growing addicted to hearing. Those molten eyes found yours in the mirror with delicious weight, smoldering openly now rather than even attempting to conceal the naked provocation simmering behind his heavy-lidded stare.

Despite the sudden lurch of panic kicking your heart into overdrive, you couldn't quite seem to tear your gaze from his inviting reflection hovering behind you. Drinking in the indolent sprawl of that powerful frame radiating unchecked masculinity and quiet dominion - like a supreme hunter casually awaiting its hapless prey's next stumbling move on instinct.

You swallowed hard but held his smoldering stare steadily, refusing to falter or acknowledge the way your nipples tightened beneath the silken fabric. Despite having watched on breathlessly while Hinata lapped at your thumb, relishing the debauched slide of his tongue over your heated flesh...something about his supreme confidence sprawled behind you now made it abundantly clear he could and would ruin any last vestiges of innocence left within you given half a chance.

"Just stay right there and let me get that for you, babygirl," Hinata purred in a low rasp that raised goosebumps rippling over your exposed arms and back.

Before you could so much as open your mouth to respond, he was slinking closer with that same predatory, liquid grace you'd witnessed in glimpses during the party last night. The air around you seemed to crackle and sing with electricity, only mounting higher as Shoyo's physical presence blotted out every other consideration entirely.

You held yourself utterly still as those large, calloused palms seared lines of blissful rapture wherever they grazed over your shoulders and waist from behind. Hinata deliberately braced one broad palm across your abdomen, exerting the barest hint of insistent pressure to pull your curves flush against his powerful torso in a silken slide you felt all the way to your molten core.

"You smell..." he growled thickly by your ear, breath fanning hot and teasing over the racing pulse in your throat as his free hand set about loosening the tangled ties at your back. "...like temptation itself, you naughty little thing..."

A piteous keen slipped free as Hinata's questing fingers completed their task, leaving the ribbons hanging undone as his palms skated back up to clasp your hips in a punishing, possessive vise. Those scorching pads scorched searing brands over the indentations of your hips, pulling you even harder against the intractable ridge of his cock notching between your trembling thighs in a single, uncompromising move.

Your lashes fluttered as the delicious pressure radiated white hot sparks dancing across your vision, mouth falling open around a shuddering exhale of helpless rapture. In the mirror, Hinata's eyes found yours swimming with naked hunger – the simmering embers of whatever tinder sparked between you last night rendered a roaring furnace in the wake of this morning's torrid duel.

"You gonna keep tempting me like this, pretty girl?" Hinata husked in a gravelly rasp dripping with promise and lingering challenge. "Or do you finally have the good sense to run now before you really earn yourself that punishment you've been courting so hard after...?"

With one final squeeze of warning that made your core spasm with empty ache, he slowly eased away and turned to saunter out of the bedroom without another word. You watched him retreat through the mirror's unforgiving reflection - powerless to do anything but gape and tremble wretchedly as the fog of his surroundings presence dissipated incrementally.

Yet this time, rather than any shaky sense of relief, you found your chest heaving with frustrated desperation and need. Because thanks to Uncle Shoyo's heated morning indulgence, you discovered an agonizing new truth:

You didn't just crave sampling the forbidden delights of his singular experience unfolding before you.

No, you utterly ached to immolate yourself completely in the smoldering rapture only he could bestow through sweet, rapturous ecstasy....or hellfire oblivion – so long as you drifted within orbit of his radiant intensity from this moment onward.

Some time later, you finally emerged from your bedroom in a dazed stupor - only to very nearly collide with your father striding up the main hallway towards you. Kenma pulled up short with a frown tugging at his features as his assessing gaze raked over your flushed, tousled state, and the frown deepened pointedly.

"Everything okay, [Y/N]?" he asked in that careful deadpan you knew meant a veiled accusation lurked beneath.

You shook your head in a vain attempt to clear the lingering afterglow clinging from your encounter with Hinata, tugging at the hem of your sundress self-consciously. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? I was just getting ready to go grab some fresh air—"

"Ah." The single syllable came clipped and flat from your father's otherwise impassive expression.

Several fraught heartbeats ticked by in heavy silence before Kenma shifted forward – not quite blocking your path, but radiating an undeniable command for your full, tempered attention nonetheless.

"Going somewhere with my old friend in tow, I take it?" His assessing stare remained level and unreadable save for the undercurrent of warning you recognized all too viscerally from childhood. "I thought we might have a... discussion about setting some ground rules first concerning his company here, [Y/N]."

Despite your frustration spiking anew at his paternal insinuations, you felt a hot flush of shame creeping up your throat. Try as you might, you couldn't meet your father's gaze directly as your mind flashed back in vivid relief to the exhilarating yet illicit thrill of Shoyo's sheer presence looming over you just minutes ago.

Seeming to sense your lack of response, Kenma finally allowed the first cracks to shudder across his typically stoic facade with a weary sigh.

"Look, ...your Uncle Shoyo might still joke and carry that same sunshine-kid energy as back then," he started evenly. "But the reality is he's still a grown man now, with...certain appetites and lack of restraint Hinata's always struggled with at times."

He paused to pin you with a searching, almost beseeching look that somehow made you feel even smaller and more transparent in his presence.

"I'm not saying to stay away from him entirely while he's staying here," Kenma went on more softly. "I remember how much you adored him back when you were little, and that bond means the world to him still."

He shifted closer then, reaching out to brush your disheveled hair aside with a tender yet firm touch that compelled your chin upwards instinctively.

"But I need you to understand that regardless of your...curiosities, your Uncle Shoyo inhabits a vastly different world of adult experience than anything you've had yet, sweetheart. One wrong seed planted could veer things down a dangerous path leading to hurt for everyone."

You shivered despite the gentle warmth and fondness radiating from your father in that infinitely precious moment. Because you recognized the stark sincerity behind his warning, and couldn't necessarily refute its validity after staring down the ravenous, unshackled hunger radiating from Uncle Shoyo's very presence earlier.

Still, even as you nodded mutely in acquiescence, a reckless splinter of thrill lanced through your core. Because now, having glimpsed the erotically-charged path being laid out before you both, you felt all the more determined to keep tumbling headlong and heedless into whatever deliciously ruinous aftermath awaited. No matter the cost or lasting implications...

The sudden, unexpected warmth of Kenma's hand cradling your cheek brought your awareness spiraling back sharply. Before you could quite process what was happening, he'd leaned down and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss against your forehead – just above the crease between your brows.

"Be smart, [Y/N]," he murmured gruffly against your hairline, eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't quite place. "And be back before curfew tonight too, you hear me? No exceptions this time."

Then he was brushing past you towards the front door, thick quiet settling in his wake like physical fog as you remained rooted to the spot. Utterly reeling between the rapidly conflicting currents of exhilarating temptation...and warning stark enough to make even your rebellious core quake in trepidation despite your best efforts otherwise.

You spent the day out with your friends, attempting and mostly failing to clear your head of the heated memories from this morning's encounter with Hinata. No matter where you went or what activity you immersed yourself in, phantom wisps of his smoky presence and provocative words lingered like an intoxicating fog.

On one hand, the lively chatter and antics provided a much-needed distraction from replaying his heated bedroom encounter over and over.

But on the other, your mind seemed to grind to a screeching halt anytime the conversation veered towards your houseguest's identity. Which, given how famous Shoyo Hinata remained in sporting circles thanks to his legendary athletic career, happened far more frequently than you were prepared for.

"Wait, wait...are you seriously telling me the Ninja Shoyo himself is crashing at your place right now?!" Mari, your most relentlessly thirsty friend, practically screeched after some sly prompting from the others.

You shot her a withering glare and mouthed for her to shut up even as the rest of the group devolved into giggles and raucous speculation over whether the confirmed bachelor was as virile and charismatic in-person as rumored.

"Oh come on, [Y/N]!" Aiko wheedled between bites of her burger, dark eyes gleaming mischievously. "You can't just dangle that kind of forbidden fruit in front of us and not expect us to beg for the details!"

Chewing your lip in embarrassed silence, you tried to tune out the rising din of increasingly risqué jokes and pleas to get them invited over for an audience with the legendary Hinata Shoyo. Phantom echoes of his deep, smoky rumble and intoxicating scent seemed to cling to the edges of your consciousness no matter how hard you tried shoving them away.

"At least get us a signed photo if you end up too chicken to let us meet him in person, you miserly brat!" Mari tacked on with a mock glare. "That'll be the closest I ever get to seeing total sex-on-legs unless I end up a cougar!"

Their laughter rolled on undeterred as you hunched further over your meal, cheeks burning and belly clenching with resurgent heat that had nothing to do with the food. Squeezing your thighs together surreptitiously only offered a momentary respite from the low, pulsing ache - one you tried studiously ignoring as well.

"Look, are you all done gawking and gossiping like vultures?" you sighed in fond resignation. "Because let's just say that if you met him properly, you'd realize my uncle is way out of all your horny little leagues..."

A fresh wave of cackling and raucous giggling met your faux-dismissive quip, spurring you to stand and begin making your excuses for the evening. Because despite your best efforts, you could already feel that reckless splinter of need and anticipation resurfacing in your gut at the prospect of returning home to your father...and his houseguest.

So you deflected the suggestive teasing and crude demands to invite Shoyo out properly, firmly refusing to think too hard on why the thought of sharing any part of Shoyo gave you pause. On some deep, instinctual level, you were rapidly becoming consumed by the urge to keep his unbound presence all to yourself from this point on out. Regardless of innocence or ruination that inevitably awaited in his merciless wake.

By the time you reached your neighborhood streets, the crisp night air helped settle your determination somewhat. One last chance to sidestep and avoid tumbling any further down whatever rabbit hole of depravity Hinata seemed intent on leading you both...

But then your apartment building's modest facade loomed into view with the lights still glowing in the windows, and you felt a strange gravitational lurch in your core. Like being reeled inexorably back towards the inescapable flames of illicit temptation despite your best efforts otherwise.

When you reached the front door and paused to let your pulse steady, the subdued sounds of a movie playing somewhere within gave you momentary pause. Maybe your dad was simply unwinding alone – granting you an opportunity to slip inside unnoticed and steer clear of potential pitfalls for tonight at least?

Only as your hand closed over the knob and you pushed the door open a crack, the rich timbre of Hinata's voice reached your ears – gruff and unmistakable in the entryway's dimness.

"Well well, look who finally decided to come back!" he called out in mocking tones. "Your poor old uncle was starting to think maybe you'd slunk off for greener pastures tonight after our fun little morning together earlier."

You froze in place with your heart abruptly lodged in your throat, berating yourself for not simply fleeing in the opposite direction while you still had the chance. But like a moth drawn to flame, you found yourself drifting further inside until the living room came into view.

There sat Shoyo, lounging at ease on the middle sofa cushion with one powerful arm slung along the backrest in apparent comfort. Weirdly, a blanket was draped across his lap – though you found your gaze drifting over the exposed vee of his shirt and every flexing cord of that tanned bicep with reflexive hunger before you wrestled your focus away again.

But it was the other person sitting opposite that really made your heart plummet into your stomach with dread. Your dad, Kenma, sat slouched in his usual armchair – dark eyes trained on the television with characteristic stoicism as he took in whatever movie was playing.

"Evening, [Y/N]," he spoke up evenly without glancing over. "Good timing – Shoyo and I were actually just thinking about putting on another film if you're interested in joining us?"

You opened your mouth, mind racing as you sought some reasonable excuse to demure and retreat to the safety of your bedroom. But before you could formulate a single syllable, Hinata had straightened upright on the sofa and fixed you with those smoldering amber eyes burning through the dimness.

"Actually, you know what?" he rumbled in that gravelly baritone that made your thighs clench reflexively. "I had something better in mind than another boring flick..."

Despite your sinking feeling worsening by the second, you watched helplessly as Uncle Shoyo rearranged the blanket pooled across his lap...then patted the cushion beside him in an exaggerated motion that would've been comically exaggerated in any other circumstance.

"Why don't you bring that cute little butt of yours over here and make yourself comfy next to your favorite uncle for this next one, hmm?" he purred, not even trying to disguise the open insolence and provocation dripping from his every word. "We can kick back...you can cozy up right here where I can keep an eye on you staying out of trouble like a good girl..."

The blatant, unrepentant innuendo left zero ambiguity over his true intentions. Despite your best efforts to shore up your beleaguered senses, you felt your face flushing hotly and palms growing damp with visceral thrill racing in your veins. Because no matter how stern your father's earlier warnings had been...this was Uncle Shoyo boldly commencing his dogged pursuit anew right out in the open.

You shifted uncertainly on your feet for a moment, caught between Shoyo's provocative invitation and the mounting tension radiating off your dad beside him. The living room suddenly felt unbearably charged, rife with unspoken challenges and wordless dares testing the fraying threads of propriety permeating the air.

Just as you opened your mouth, still grasping for some semblance of stable footing, Kenma's measured baritone cut through the hush with deceptive mildness.

"Actually, [Y/N], why don't you go ahead and get changed into something more comfortable first?" he suggested without tearing his gaze from the television screen. "No sense being all dressed up if we're just lounging around and catching up on crappy movies together."

The pointed emphasis on that last part hinted at unspoken layers simmering just beneath the surface of your dad's composed demeanor. You darted a fraught look between both men, but Kenma steadfastly refused to meet your gaze while Hinata...

Well, Hinata simply sat back with that same searing intensity blazing from his heavy-lidded eyes, lips quirked in the barest hint of a self-satisfied smirk you already recognized meant danger. Despite the veneer of this wholesome father-daughter scene being painted before you, the undeniable insinuation of his unabashed perusal made you clench your thighs together instinctively.

"You heard the man," he rumbled, syrupy timbre dripping with implicit promise. Uncle Shoyo's tongue dragged over his lower lip with exquisite leisure, drawing your rapt focus there like a moth to flame. "Don't keep your favorite uncle waiting too long now, sweet girl..."

Kenma shifted infinitesimally then, casting a weighted look of silent warning in Hinata's direction before your dad finally relented and turned towards you fully. Despite the careful blankness written over his features, something simmered and roiled in those pale, flinty depths when he held your gaze with quiet gravity.

"Take your time," was all he murmured with clear emphasis, expression giving nothing away.

You felt distinctly as if you were being weighed and measured against forces rapidly spiraling beyond your ability to anticipate or control. Despite the mounting vertigo gripping your senses, leaving you adrift, a spark of reckless determination lanced through the fog.

With a tight nod, you drew a fortifying breath and spun on your heel without a backwards glance – stoically ignoring the heated undercurrents still crackling along your exposed nape from Hinata's ravenous scrutiny. This morning may have shattered the last vestiges of innocence ushering you along a dangerous precipice with Hinata...

But tonight, some primal instinct whispered darkly, tonight you were well and truly teetering upon that razor's edge with nowhere to go but fully losing yourself to the sweet, ruinous oblivion now inevitable on the other side.

The rote motions of changing into a loose cotton sleep set blurred into a trance-like haze as you moved through your bedroom mechanically. Every nerve was hyper-tuned for more veiled warnings, another blazing gauntlet thrown down anew to tempt or dismay you from your unraveling trajectory.

But deep down, you understood the futility in feigning obliviousness any longer. Not after Hinata had plunged you into the rapturous crucible with his touch, his taste, his ravenous gaze marking you in a way that could never be unmade or forgotten henceforth.

All that remained was answering the final summons echoing amidst your thundering pulse with honesty...and letting the aftermath of indulgence or consequences tear you both asunder into oblivion if need be.

So when you re-emerged from your bedroom in a fresh white ribbed tanks clinging to your curves and miniscule sleep shorts leaving little to imagination, you met Shoyo's searing amber stare levelly. His broad chest expanded fractionally around a harsh inhale, swirling embers of naked desire and insatiable longing burning behind those hooded eyes clear as day.

Even as you made your way closer, edging around the coffee table until within arm's reach of the back of the sofa where he reclined awaiting you, you refused to falter. The indolent sprawl of Hinata's powerful, chiseled form seemed utterly at odds with the palpable, carnivorous threat radiating off him now in molten waves.

You paused there, petrified beneath that searing, loaded stare raking over every bare inch of your silhouette without a shred of shame or restraint. After several suspended heartbeats dripping with escalating tension, Uncle Shoyo shifted imperceptibly. His free hand dragging the blanket aside to reveal bunched sweatpants and a blatantly obscene tenting of the fabric that made your mouth go bone dry around a whimper.

"That'll do just fine," he rasped in a guttural rasp that sent a frisson of electric heat spearing between your clenching thighs. One calloused fingertip crooked lazily, beckoning you closer with arrogant expectation gleaming from his heavy-lidded gaze. "Now get that sweet ass over here where I can keep you close and out've trouble beside me, pretty girl..."

Twin jolts of panic and exhilarating arousal lanced through you simultaneously at the naked provocation. Because even filtered through the dim lighting, you glimpsed the engorged shape promised beneath the thin material and knew without doubt what sort of wanton claiming Uncle Shoyo had in mind for you tonight.

Yet despite the adrenaline screaming through every cell, fueling your instinctive urge to flee, you felt an even deeper, more primal compulsion tugging you inexorably forward until your senses were bathed in his smoky, alluring presence. Hinata radiated unshakable dominion and leashed force, even slouched indolently before you like a serpent coiled to strike at any moment.

"Sho..."

The single hoarse syllable of warning hissed from behind made you flinch despite yourself. You whipped your head to find Kenma staring at the both of you with a stern, paternal gaze - everything about his rigid posture radiating the quiet yet firm protectiveness you recognized so viscerally.

Rather than match your father's intensity head-on, however, Hinata simply exhaled a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the charged space between you in a delicious rasp. You watched, utterly transfixed, as he straightened up and shifted the blanket aside in one fluid movement.

"Easy there, Kenma," he rumbled with that infuriatingly roguish half-smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "You know me better than that. I'm not about to go tarnishing this homecoming and ruin my chances at more of your lovely daughter's..." His gaze raked over you with blatant heat. "...delightful company while I'm in town."

Despite the distinctly provocative undercurrent still simmering in his tone, Hinata seemed to deliberately soften the edges in a show of placation towards your father. You felt the simmering tension ebbing incrementally even as fresh exasperation flickered behind Kenma's carefully schooled expression.

"For old time's sake, fine," your dad relented at last through gritted teeth. His pale eyes found yours with weighted meaning etched into the stony planes of his visage. "But one more toe across any line here, Shoyo, and you're out on your ass before your old bones can even try spinning another excuse. [Y/N] isn't some naive little girl anymore, either."

The naked warning laced beneath that last softly uttered statement wasn't lost on either of you. Logically, you knew Kenma was trying to shield you from potential hurt or missteps in whatever unspoken exchange unfolded before you. But at the same time, you bristled instinctively at the implication you required such explicit paternal protections - no matter how well-intentioned.

Before you could unpack the bristling mixture of gratitude and indignant frustration any further, however, Hinata cleared his throat meaningfully. When your focus snapped back towards him, he simply crooked one finger in a beckoning 'come hither' gesture that raised your hackles anew despite the clear invitation tingeing his amber gaze with yearning heat.

"Well? C'mere and park that sweet little butt already, kiddo," he rasped, patting the couch cushion beside him once more with exaggerated insistence. "Promise to keep my hands where you can see 'em for now if that'll ease your dad's worries some..."

The blatant implication behind his easy words and rumbling timbre was not lost on you in the slightest. Kenma shifted in his armchair with a weighted sigh somewhere between exasperation and fond resignation you recognized all too well. He was placating Shoyo's incorrigible provocations for the moment - not out of obliviousness, but rather mindfulness of allowing both of you a fragile pretense to navigate whatever inevitability loomed ahead.

So you exhaled a steadying breath and made your way across the living room without faltering any further. Despite the scorching simmer radiating from Shoyo's simmering mug as he tracked your approach with utterly unabashed hunger, there remained an undeniable flicker of warmth and tenderness burning behind the primal furnace in those rich depths you'd come to crave. Reassurance and promise alike, vowing he had no intentions of treading upon the sacred boundaries of your father's trust without permission first.

Instead of claiming the cushion directly beside him as originally beckoned, however, you settled primly on the outer edge of the opposite side. Leaving a respectable yet still charged gulf between your forms that both men seemed to silently recognize without verbal acknowledgement. Kenma grunted something unintelligible but otherwise maintained his silence as the weight of expectant tension clung to the air like humid fog. For his part, Hinata’s nostrils flared ever-so-slightly as he drank in this fresh recalibration through hooded eyes - once more adjusting his restless body language until every coiled inch radiated perfect nonchalance and ease despite the undercurrent still humming between you both like a plucked string.

"Well alright then," he husked out at last once satisfying whatever internal calculations measured your positioning as acceptable - for now. "How 'bout I kick us off with something a little light to set the proper mood before getting into the heavy stuff, huh?"

Kenma exhaled an audible scoff as Shoyo thumbed the remote, queuing up some random movie or TV show with practiced ease while slinging one arm over the back of the couch cushions in an artless sprawl. Pointedly avoiding fixing you with any further heated looks, but leaving little ambiguity how aware he remained of your presence like a physical magnetized force beside him.

You swallowed hard despite yourself, painfully conscious of every tantalizing inch between your bodies and the delicious masculine presence rolling off Hinata in waves once more. He may have dialed back the overt provocation for the moment...but that inexorable undercurrent still thrummed with blistering promise of the untamed pleasures lying in wait should you falter further into his orbit tonight.

Almost against your will, electricity zinged along your nerves with each subtle shift and adjustment of his powerful frame beside you. Muscles flexing, fabric straining obscenely over the rigid outline of his cock bunching the sweatpants in teasing hints of his devastating endowment. You squeezed your thighs together hard enough to feel the dig of your nails embedding crescents into your palms, warring desperately with the reckless compulsion to simply throw yourself over his lap without shame or hesitation and indulge whatever incendiary rapture could be had here and now while within reach.

When Shoyo finally settled back fully with a contented grunt, you risked a sidelong glance and immediately felt your breath catch at the heated smolder awaiting you from those heavy-lidded amber depths. His tongue flicked over that full lower lip in a slow, indulgent glide that punched the breath from your lungs before Hinata even rumbled a single syllable.

"Just making myself comfy too, little minx," he murmured in that low, liquid rasp drenched with sinful promise despite his guileless expression. You shuddered despite your best efforts as his gaze dragged over every inch of you shamelessly before fixing on your parted lips with ravenous focus. "No need to go getting all worked up on me...not until we're good and ready to really blow off some of that tension proper, that is."

Your mouth went bone dry as his blatant implication crashed over you in molten waves, stoking the already swirling embers suffusing your limbs and core alike into wildfire ecstasy despite your best efforts. Yet before you could muster even a token protest, Shoyo quirked that same wicked half-smirk of his and deliberately settled back to focus on the film playing out before you.

For a merciful stretch, the only sounds permeating the dim living room came from the television's muted dialogue and occasional commentary muttered between your dad and Uncle Shoyo. You sank further into the plush cushions, knees pulled up to your chest in a subconscious show of self-preservation from the magnetic force radiating off Hinata's form beside you.

Despite his surface placidity now that the films were rolling, you could practically feel the heated undercurrent of his focus sweeping over you in lingering, liquid caresses – drinking you in from the corner of his vision like a serpent savoring its lure. The same leashed intensity and dominance promising utter rapture in the right circumstances from the very marrow of his bones.

You shivered despite the warmth of the room, senses still humming from his earlier provocations and insinuations sizzling in memory. The fleeting image of his thick, mouthwatering cock tenting the front of those sweats flickered behind your lids with maddening clarity. Stoking the delirious compulsion to reach out and caress, grip, indulge the intoxicating mysteries promised beneath with shameless abandon—

Just as you felt your restraint slipping further towards cataclysmic surrender, the unmistakable weight of Hinata's palm settled over your kneecap with searing possession. You flinched bodily but remained rooted in place, breath catching in your throat despite your best efforts.

"Easy, kiddo," he rumbled without shifting his gaze from the screen, somehow pitching his smoky undertones low enough to avoid disturbing Kenma's engrossed state. "You're looking a little tense over there...lemme help you loosen up, hmm?"

With maddening leisure, Hinata's large palm began smoothing up the sensitive expanse of your inner thigh with heavy insistence. You bit back the whimpering keen that immediately welled up, casting a wild glance between your dad's oblivious form and the man openly caressing your bare flesh so brazenly now. Yet not a flicker of reaction showed in Hinata's cool countenance apart from the subtle curve of that infuriating half-smirk ghosting his chiseled profile in the dim lighting.

You squeezed your eyes shut and fought for some semblance of composure as those rough, calloused fingertips mapped higher over your straining hamstrings. The unbearable heat of Hinata's touch seared lines of rapturous bliss through your veins with every teasing inch relinquished until you felt his knuckles graze the hem of your minuscule shorts threateningly.

Just when you thought you might vibrate out of your own skin from the maddening denial coupled with raw primal need, Hinata suddenly withdrew his hand from between your trembling thighs. You risked a single wild peek towards those simmering amber eyes, mouth parted around a desperate plea, only to suck in a harsh breath.

Because Hinata was already twisting upright on the cushion, seemingly ready to rise and depart your coiled position after reducing you to a melted puddle of longing desire. Before you could summon even a meager syllable of reproach, however, his powerful frame angled fully towards you and those devilish eyes trapped you utterly beneath their hooded, Scorching Gaze.

"Have a good night, sweet girl," Hinata husked with sinful roughness that made your core clench deliriously. In one dizzying blur, he dipped down to ghost his lips over your tingling, parted mouth in a blistering almost-caress brimming with unbearable erotic promise. "Try and get some rest after that little warm-up session...because you and I both know I'm nowhere near done indulging my sweet tooth for you proper yet, baby."

Just like that, he straightened up and sauntered from the living room before you could even hope to recover from his relentless provocations. Leaving your reeling in his smoldering wake, swaying dazedly from the delirious whiplash of rapture and untamed yearning still ricocheting through your veins like molten lightning.

When you finally mustered the wherewithal to meet your father's gaze once more, Kenma pinned you with an inscrutable look from across the quiet space. For several fraught heartbeats, neither of you spoke or moved a muscle – hovering on the periphery of whatever unspoken undercurrent now shuddered between you in the aftermath of Hinata's brash moves tonight.

"You should go on up to bed, [Y/N]," he finally rumbled evenly, features schooled into a careful blankness you knew better than to mistake for complacency. "There's no need for you to get further tangled up with whatever your uncle is trying to play at here tonight, kiddo. Get some rest while you still can."

Despite the searing weight behind his words, Kenma refused to meet your questioning stare directly. Almost as if he already knew precisely where your treacherous thoughts ultimately lay in the wake of Hinata's scorching ministrations...and wished to avoid acknowledging the truth staring you both in the face any longer.

Because in the end, you realized with fresh crestfallen resignation, your dad would never fully reckon with the gravity of what Hinata was igniting between you – much less grant tacit approval to see where the smoldering ashes might lead henceforth. Even if it meant witnessing you surrender yourself over to devouring rapture entirely and without reservation from this moment onward...

Over the next few days, Shoyo seemed to revel in keeping you teetering perpetually on the edge of sheer frustration and desperate arousal. Whenever the two of you found yourselves alone, whether briefly in passing or for snatched interludes, he radiated casual nonchalance and ease.

Yet his every glance, murmur, or teasing brush against your side dripped with the same primal undercurrent of restrained hunger simmering just beneath. You quickly discovered Hinata possessed a diabolical talent for igniting your senses into overdrive with little more than a heated look or suggestive comment virtually imperceptible to any casual observer.

He'd catch you off-guard in the kitchen with that smoldering gaze dragging over your body with open appraisal before rasping some ostensibly innocent quip about needing to "cool off" that made your thighs clench instinctively. Or fold his large, calloused hands around your hips from behind while reaching for something overhead - the scorching bulk of his chiseled frame molding against your backside in a delicious grind before withdrawing as casually as if nothing untoward occurred.

More maddening still were the heated glances and subtle lip-licking gestures Hinata indulged whenever your paths crossed in random hallways. His tongue would drag over those plush lips with exaggerated leisure, hooded gaze promising rapturous sin as you fought not to squirm like a prize filly on display.

Sometimes you wondered if the expert teasing was intended as punishment for not surrendering fully to his rapacious desires that first night. Other times, the agonizing compulsion to fling yourself bodily at Uncle Shoyo and beg for release became so overpowering you found every shred of self-control straining not to give in.

And through it all, your dad remained oblivious - too preoccupied with long work hours down at his office to pick up on the delirious tension humming between you and his houseguest. Leaving you utterly unguarded to endure Hinata's shameless flirtations and provocations without interference, until the entire apartment felt saturated in an erotic, static charge ready to detonate at any moment.

When Kenma did happen to be around, Hinata maintained a guileless facade of easy friendship and casual indifference around him. No hint of the lascivious teasing or ravenous heat frequently ignited whenever you two were alone. Leaving you silently reeling and doubting your ability to endure the breathless free-fall into either bliss or ruination promised in his molten stare much longer...

You tossed and turned restlessly in your bed that night, sheets tangling around your legs as you fought against the endless swirl of unbidden thoughts and desires tormenting your exhausted mind. No matter how you tried to clear your head or will your frazzled senses into oblivion, the same searing flashes kept replaying in vivid detail.

Shoyo's powerful frame looming over you, those intense amber eyes burning with naked hunger while calloused palms mapped every curve and hollow with insistent possession. The way his tongue would dart out and trace his full lips in a slow, taunting glide that made you ache with thwarted longing. That low, rumbling timbre swirling like dark velvet through your core whenever he rasped some molten insinuation dripping with sin...

You released a shuddering exhale into the stillness, sweat prickling along your nape and lower back as liquid need unfurled between your tightly clenched thighs yet again. Wetness seeped through the sparse fabric covering your overheated flesh, only fueling the delirious spiral towards capitulation threatening to unhinge your last vestiges of restraint entirely.

With an impatient huff, you shoved the tangled bedding aside and sat up - realizing that sleep, let alone any semblance of inner peace, was utterly forfeit tonight. Not while Hinata's intoxicating aura and tantalizing promise lurked within such maddeningly tempting reach under the same roof, catalyzing your deepest longings with effortless expertise.

Maybe retrieving a cold drink or nighttime snack would temporarily dull the scorching inferno smoldering through your limbs enough for coherent thought to prevail?

You slipped from your bedroom as quietly as possible, bare feet padding across the hallway towards the kitchen's dim glow. The silence reigned heavy and leaden, broken only by your shaky inhales and the muted hum of the refrigerator as you pulled it open with a soft creak.

Peering inside, you allowed the soothing chill to wash over you in waves while your eyes slipped closed blissfully for a precious handful of seconds. Some of the raw, reckless tension eased fractionally from the reprieve of chilly air ghosting over your sweat-damp skin and feverish nerves - at least until a quiet throat clearing shattered the fragile peace.

Your eyes flew wide, heart leaping into overdrive as a startled shriek lodged in your throat. Before it could tear free with enough force to wake the dead, a massive palm clapped firmly over your mouth while the other arm snaked around your midsection to immobilize you completely. The scorching planes of a powerful chest pressed flush against your back, swallowing you up in a masculine heat and presence so intoxicating, so overwhelmingly familiar that the fight instantly left your body in a boneless slump.

"Shhhh...hey, it's just me, kitten," Shoyo's husky rasp tickled the shell of your ear as he pulled you tight against his virile frame. Every syllable seemed to vibrate through you down to the delicious slide and flex his raw physicality shifting behind you with predatory grace. "Easy there, I'm not trying to scare you."

You managed a trembling nod against his broad palm, eyelids fluttering despite the rising current of panic and arousal sparking deliriously across your nerve endings. Gradually, Hinata eased the steel bands of his hold, allowing you to pivot and face him properly within the tight confines of his inescapable orbit.

There he loomed in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants hanging sinfully low on those chiseled hips, fresh from sleep by the looks of his tousled ginger thatch and drowsy bedroom eyes. You swallowed hard while drinking in the sight of his defined torso and powerful shoulders bracketing you - close enough for the humid puffs of his breathing to feather over your parted lips with every exhale.

"What are you doing prowling around at this hour, sweet girl?" he husked out, searching your flushed features with smoldering intensity you already knew was a precursor to much darker, breathless indulgences on the horizon. "Surely you weren't thinking of sneaking off without me again after our last little encounter?"

Your cheeks flushed hotly at the blatant insinuation, eyes darting down to the utterly obscene tenting of his pants now on full display without an ounce of shame or restraint. The thick ridge of his cock straining there seemed to twitch in delicious invitation, spurred by your hungry stare alone.

Your mouth went bone dry at the unbidden urges surging through you in roiling waves. The maddening temptation to simply sink to your knees and indulge your starving curiosity with lips, tongue...mouth yielding in utter obeisance flooded your every synapse without compunction now that opportunity knocked so brazenly.

Almost against your will, you found yourself inching incrementally closer until Hinata's smoldering presence utterly enveloped your overheated senses once more. The hunger, the scorching craving for just a taste of the forbidden pleasures he so unrepentantly dangled ever nearer soon blotted out every other earthly consideration beyond chasing oblivion through rapturous ruin entirely.

Just as you felt your restraint fraying to mere gossamer threads, Hinata cupped the nape of your neck in a searing brand while using his other hand to urge you backwards with insistent pressure. You remained frozen in place, utterly transfixed until his thumb lifted your chin upwards and those smoldering, hooded eyes captured yours in a mesmerizing trance.

"This isn't the time or place for that, baby," he growled thickly, the words rumbling through your core down to your drenched pussy between your quivering thighs in molten promise. "At least not until I've got you somewhere quieter...more private, hmm? Where I can really take my time ruining you by the end of this little midnight rendezvous..."

His calloused palm drifted lower to map the swell of your hip boldly before squeezing with exquisite possession. You arched helplessly into the delicious heat of his body pinning you against the fridge as Hinata continued rasping heated endearments over your feverish skin.

"I've half a mind to toss you over my shoulder and finally show you exactly what happens when you push a starving man's restraint too far like this..." His tongue darted out to blaze an electrifying path along the slender column of your throat, stoking the swirling embers into outright wildfire. "Have you screaming my name and begging to take every last fucking inch until you're left utterly wrecked and spent beneath me, sweet girl..."

You couldn't bite back the desperate whine that punched past your parted lips, even as you trembled in his unrelenting clutches and chills caressed your overheated skin from the open fridge. The aching vacancy between your clenching thighs throbbed mercilessly, liquid arousal flooding your pussy at each wanton promise slipping from Hinata's tongue.

Before you could summon the wherewithal to respond or surrender further into the rising tide of blissful rapture, Shoyo sighed heavily against your jawline. You felt the last fraying threads of tension suddenly ease incrementally from his uncompromising bulk confined behind you, until his palms smoothed over your hips in a gentle sweep.

"But I won't..." he murmured in that rumbling baritone somehow laced with the barest undercurrent of regret now. "Not without your full consent first, kiddo. That's the line I promised your dad I wouldn't cross..."

With aching deliberation, Hinata began extricating himself from where he caged you against the kitchen counters. Every subtle shift and retreat of his rangy, scorching frame sent a new frisson of loss prickling along your sensitized nerves - until he'd repositioned entirely behind you again with respectable distance.

You blinked dazedly for several suspended heartbeats, mind whirling from the roller-coaster of sensations still ricocheting through your limbs and core alike. When you finally mustered the courage to turn and face Shoyo once more, you found his stare guarded yet intense - still burning with the weight of visceral, undeniable yearning despite his display of restraint.

"You should probably head on back up to bed and try getting some rest, [Y/N]," he rumbled out lowly, running one hand through his wild bedhead in a gesture of reasserted nonchalance that rang hollow to both of you in the aftermath. "We can talk things out properly tomorrow after I've had a chance to cool off and think..."

Despite the gently-uttered suggestion, a daring splinter of molten want lanced through you at the weighty implication behind his parting murmur. Some impulsive, elemental part of your soul recognized this as the precipice you'd been hurtling towards all along: the choice to finally tumble into Uncle Shoyo's waiting inferno utterly and surrender whatever innocence remained...or reluctantly retreat from temptation's siren call.

He finally moved to slip back into the shadows—only for your hand to shoot out on pure reckless instinct, snagging his wrist in a vice.

Shoyo froze in place, chest swelling around a shuddering inhale that stirred the tendrils of hair fluttering across your flushed nape. Despite your bravado, you found your throat working convulsively as his piercing focus zeroed in on the fragile point where your thundering pulse danced below your jawline.

"[Y/N]..." he rumbled in that smoky timbre that made your core clench deliriously. "Don't go starting something here you ain't fully prepared to see through to the bitter end now, baby. 'Cause I promise you won't be leaving this kitchen the same sweet, blushing little minx you wandered in here as—"

"Please," you burst out in a desperate, trembling rasp before you could overthink the impulse further. Tears of frustrated yearning stung the corner of your eyes as you maintained your fragile grip on Hinata's wrist through sheer force of will. "Please, Uncle Shoyo...I can't—I need—"

You broke off in a piteous whimper despite your best efforts. Because how could you even begin to articulate the smoldering vortex of compulsion and visceral craving warring through your veins in the wake of his unapologetic provocation? How starved for his touch, his possession, his claiming rapture you'd found yourself since that very first night permitting him to infiltrate beneath your boundaries?

Hinata's chest heaved in visible effort, muscles tensing and bunching as his control clearly wavered on a razor's edge right alongside yours. Then with a low, guttural groan of surrender, he turned fully back into your space - allowing your trembling grip to capture his wrist once more as those smoldering amber depths searched yours from mere inches away.

"Okay, kitten," Shoyo rasped out at last in a voice gone ragged around the edges. "Okay...I hear you loud and clear now. And lucky for us both..."

His free hand snaked around the small of your back in one fluid yet inescapable glide, crushing your body flush against his chiseled torso with insistent possession. Despite your initial startled inhale, every fiber of your being instantly melted into the scorching heat and masculine power radiating from Hinata in molten waves of delirious ecstasy.

"...I would never in a million years dream of denying a sweet, desperate thing like you exactly what she so clearly craves from the very core of her being ever again..."

Those plush lips skimmed teasingly along your cheekbone, eliciting a shuddering sigh as your eyelids fluttered in utter surrender. Then Shoyo's sinful mouth ghosted a trail downwards, tracing the contours of your jaw and neck with such agonizing precision you nearly sobbed aloud from the unbearable ache of anticipation unfurling inside.

"So let's start this proper now, baby," Hinata murmured directly against the shell of your ear. You couldn't help arching against his frame like a bowstring as the low, sinful rumble washed over you - his hands already sliding down to capture and squeeze your hips with bruising force.

"You’re not going to call me uncle anymore, kitten," he continued with a sinful lilt. "And you're certainly not going to refer to me as Shoyo either. Not while I’m fucking you. Understand?"

Hinata's palm smoothed over your trembling flank before cupping your ass in an unmistakable act of dominance. You gasped out a broken mewl, only for him to hitch you tighter against his virile torso as you fought to keep from melting into an absolute puddle at his feet.

"When we're all alone together like this, you'll be calling me Daddy instead," he growled directly against your racing pulse, tongue darting out in a hot, electrifying stroke along your feverish flesh. "Is that understood, pretty girl?"

You managed a dazed nod, eyes slipping closed entirely as molten arousal coursed through you in heady torrents. Hinata clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, releasing your hip only to give your bottom a swift, resounding slap. You jumped at the unexpected impact, yelping as a new flood of liquid heat soaked through the already sodden fabric of your panties.

"Words, kitten," Shoyo husked against your fevered skin. "I need to hear the words. Are you gonna be a good girl and obey, or do we need to have a proper lesson before we move on to the fun stuff?"

A shiver raced down your spine as a fresh surge of liquid arousal spilled from your throbbing pussy, dripping onto the hardwood beneath you. You whimpered aloud at the scalding sensation, squirming within Hinata's steely grasp as he pressed a chiding kiss directly below your ear.

"I—I'll be good, Daddy," you gasped out at last. Your cheeks burned with equal parts mortification and wanton desire while Shoyo hummed his approval against your flushed nape, trailing hot kisses and playful nips all along the sensitive flesh.

"Mmm, I knew you'd make a sweet, obedient little angel for me, kitten," he murmured in that low, hypnotic rumble. One hand slid from your hip to trace the line of your spine, teasing along the hem of your tiny tank top with aching slowness. His fingers hooked around the fabric and began tugging it upwards, the pads skimming over the feverish expanse of flesh he gradually bared to the balmy air.

"It's just too bad your first lesson will have to be the roughest," he rasped directly against the shell of your ear. A frisson of raw anticipation rippled down your spine at the dark, dangerous undercurrent of lust that laced each syllable. "After all, we're long overdue for a proper punishment for how brazenly you've been taunting and teasing poor Daddy, don't you agree?"

The tank top soon flew into the darkness, leaving your quivering, exposed form in nothing but the thin satin of your panties. You couldn't help squirming under Shoyo's piercing stare and the searing weight of his touch as it skated back down to grip your bottom possessively.

"So, how does that sound, kitten?" he purred lowly, kneading the firm, supple flesh of your ass in his broad palm. You keened and arched against his towering frame, unable to resist the overwhelming compulsion to surrender every last scrap of your remaining dignity under his sinful ministrations.

"Punish me, Daddy," you whispered breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut as his thumb dipped tantalizingly beneath the soaked silk of your panties and brushed a feather-light stroke against your throbbing clit. "Want you to spank me, please..."

"Spank you? Now there's an offer I can't possibly refuse," Hinata replied with a dark chuckle. His palm smoothed over the swell of your bottom, the calluses sending delicious frissons of sensation zipping through your nerve endings with each passing stroke.

"But, I think it's only fair I give you a chance to make up for all that mischief and teasing you've put poor Daddy through first." His lips captured the delicate skin of your nape in a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made your toes curl against the hardwood. "What do you think, kitten?"

Before you could even process the question, Hinata's other hand abandoned your hip in favor of hooking one finger under the thin strap of your thong. He gave a swift, sharp tug that snapped the delicate lace and left the garment pooling at your feet in an instant.

You trembled with unabashed desire as Shoyo's gaze swept hungrily over the newly-bared expanse of flesh, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating until his irises were nothing but thin rings of liquid gold. You could feel his thick, twitching cock straining against the sweatpants, and couldn't resist squirming back against his pelvis to draw a choked-off groan from the man pinning you.

"Mmm, you're soaked through, aren't you, pretty girl?" Hinata husked against your flushed, damp nape, his other hand still kneading the firm curve of your ass as he pressed forward. His cock grazed the seam of your thighs, sending a shuddering gasp tumbling from your parted lips as the aching vacancy between your legs throbbed.

"I can feel how desperate and empty you are for it, kitten," he rasped, giving your bottom a brisk, stinging swat. You gasped and jerked into his hips with a helpless whimper, eyes rolling back as another gush of liquid arousal dripped onto the floor between your legs. "Look at you, dripping like a little river and squirming like a bitch in heat, just begging for Daddy's cock to fill you up nice and tight..."

He rolled his hips in slow, torturous friction, cock catching against your drenched pussy and the underside of your clit until a wanton whine slipped from your lips. Then with a low, rumbling groan, Shoyo withdrew and took a deliberate step backwards - putting enough distance between the two of you to make the sudden loss of contact nearly palpable.

"But first we’re going to train that bratty little mouth of yours," he murmured huskily, reaching out to cup your chin and tilt your face upwards towards his. "Get on your knees, baby."

Your breath hitched and your knees trembled as the words registered. Even in your thoroughly compromised state, the implications sent a jolt of fear lancing through the molten haze of arousal clouding your brain. But, when you dared a glance back at Hinata's piercing golden stare, your heart skipped a beat and your pulse quickened at the raw, unbridled hunger etched into every hard line and angle of his features.

"Don't make me repeat myself, kitten," he murmured warningly, giving the supple swell of your ass a swift, stinging swat that had you squealing and stumbling towards him on unsteady limbs.

You sank onto your knees with a soft huff, blinking dazedly up at Hinata from beneath your lashes. He stood above you like a towering titan, silhouetted by the faint moonlight slanting through the kitchen window and the shadows enveloping the two of you. The sight of him, wild and feral and utterly irresistible, left your core clenching and your breath stuttering.

"Go ahead, baby," Shoyo urged you huskily, fingers skimming over the flushed, feverish skin of your cheek before tangling in your hair. "Taste Daddy."

You shuddered, eyes fluttering closed as his grip tightened and he began guiding you forward. There was a single, suspended moment of anticipation as you hovered just before the massive bulge tenting the front of his sweats. Then, just as you reached out to tug the waistband down, Shoyo halted you with a harsh tug on your hair.

"Ah, ah," he warned you lowly, eliciting a whimper of frustration from you that had him chuckling lowly in response. "You don't get to use your hands. Just your mouth, baby."

Heat rushed to your cheeks and a fresh flood of arousal pooled at your core, dripping down your thighs and onto the hardwood in a steady stream. You bit back a frustrated groan, squirming in his grasp as his cock twitched and throbbed beneath the cotton, mere inches away.

Then without allowing yourself another moment of hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right where the mushroom head strained the fabric. Hinata's breath hitched and his grip on your hair tightened, a low hiss of approval slipping past his clenched teeth.

You glanced up, meeting his burning stare with your own as you traced the outline of his cock with the flat of your tongue. The taste of salt and musk and him, all man and virile power, exploded across your taste buds. A shudder rippled through you, leaving your core clenching and dripping in the aftermath.

"Fucking tease," Hinata groaned, his eyes falling closed as you began mouthing at his clothed erection, the wet patch slowly spreading and growing more obvious beneath the force of your ministrations. "Get to it already, kitten."

He yanked you forward and you gasped at the sudden pressure against your mouth, squirming and shifting as he ground his cock against the seam of your lips. Your cheeks burned, arousal pooling deep in the pit of your stomach and spreading outwards like molten honey as the musky scent of his precum filled your senses.

Then finally, you caught the elastic waistband between your teeth and tugged it down, allowing Hinata's heavy, aching length to spring free at last. You blinked, momentarily stunned and dazed by the sheer, impossible girth and size of his cock as it bobbed before your face, droplets of precum glistening on the swollen mushroom head and a prominent vein snaking down the underside.

"Open wide for Daddy, kitten," Hinata husked above you, giving your hair a warning tug. You barely had time to suck in a desperate breath before he was thrusting forward, spearing between your parted lips and sliding along your tongue in a hot, thick slide of molten flesh.

A garbled moan spilled from you as his cock hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your vision go blurry. The salty tang of precum burst across your taste buds, only to be washed away as he withdrew in a slick, obscene glide and plunged back down with a guttural groan.

"Oh fuck, that's a good girl," he grunted, his hips setting a relentless pace as he fucked your mouth with abandon. You whimpered, tears streaking your cheeks and spit dribbling from the corners of your lips as the force of his thrusts rocked you on your knees.

Hinata's breathing grew labored, his muscles bunching and tensing as he pistoned into your mouth, chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded fervor that left you delirious with want. His cock throbbed and pulsed on your tongue, swelling impossibly larger and harder until you could hardly breathe past the sheer thickness filling every inch of available space.

Your hands scrabbled for purchase against his hips, fingers clawing into his flesh and digging into the ridges of his Adonis belt as he drove deeper into the tight, constricting tunnel of your throat. A strangled groan spilled from him, his pelvis snapping forward until his balls slapped against your chin and your nose was buried in the thatch of hair at the base.

"God, such a perfect fucking cockslut," he grunted, voice reduced to a ragged rasp that had you shivering and quaking with a fresh wave of liquid arousal. You whined in response, eyes rolling back as he slid down your gullet, the flared mushroom head forcing your throat to stretch impossibly wide around his girth.

Then suddenly, Shoyo wrenched your head back by the hair. You sputtered and coughed, gasping desperately for air as the string of spit connecting his cockhead to your mouth snapped and a trickle of saliva dribbled down your chin. Your vision was blurry and tears clung to your lashes, but the sight of Hinata's cock, flushed and gleaming and positively coated in your spit, made your core clench and ache with a renewed desperation.

"Such a pretty mess," he murmured, the pad of his thumb catching the rivulet of drool and precum and smearing it along your lower lip. You whined and leaned forward, trying to catch the calloused digit between your lips, only for him to yank it away with a chuckle.

"Not so fast, kitten," he admonished, releasing your hair and taking a single step backwards. You swayed on your knees, eyes following his movements as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them down in a smooth, sinuous glide.

The fabric fell in a rumpled heap at his ankles, leaving him bare and exposed in the moonlight. His cock jutted proudly from his pelvis, swollen and twitching and absolutely dripping with your saliva and an ungodly amount of his own precum. You licked your lips, the taste of salt and musk still lingering there, and squirmed where you knelt.

"You look so hungry, kitten," Shoyo said with a devilish smirk. He wrapped one large hand around the base of his cock and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke from root to tip. You watched, utterly mesmerized by the flex of his arm and the sinful glide of his fist, until the tip was once more dripping and you could practically feel the throbbing pulse against your tongue.

"But you know, I don't think you've learned your lesson just yet."

Before you could fully process the words, Hinata had seized your arm shoulders and shoved you back until your spine hit the cool marble of the counter. You yelped at the sharp, sudden impact, only to have the sound muffled by Hinata's cockas he leaned forward and stuffed your mouth full.

Your head thunked back against the marble and you whimpered around the heavy, thick length. Above you, Shoyo grunted and set a brutal, unforgiving pace as he speared past your lips and fucked into the tight, hands braced against the edge of the countertop and eyes dark and glinting.

You squirmed and writhed beneath him, eyes rolling back and a steady stream of saliva and precum dribbling from the corner of your lips. Your fingernails scraped at the hardwood, hips bucking and core clenching around nothing as his cock dragged along the flat of your tongue and plunged deeper than before.

"That's right, kitten," he husked, reaching down to grip the hair at the crown of your head. His pelvis rolled forward in a devastatingly deep thrust, drawing a choked gasp from you. "You take Daddy's cock so fucking well, like you were made for it, weren't you?"

A low, needy whine spilled from you, sending a frisson of vibrations racing up his cock. He hissed, head dropping and his fingers tightening to an almost-painful grip on your hair as his thrusts turned wild and frenzied. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed off the walls, mixing with the lewd squelch and slurp of your mouth and the ragged groans that tumbled from his lips.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—gonna cum, baby," he panted out, his movements growing erratic and the swell of his cock pulsing. The words were a trigger, sending your head spinning and your vision going hazy. You moaned, a fresh rush of arousal dripping down onto the hardwood between your splayed thighs.

Shoyo's hips snapped forward once, twice more, and then with a strangled, wordless shout, he pulled out and pumped his cock. His release shot in pearly white streaks, splattering over the hollow of your throat and the tops of your breasts.

You panted, blinking up at the ceiling as your head spun and a dazed smile curled the corners of your lips. His cum, warm and sticky, slid down the slope of your chest and between the valley of your breasts. But, the euphoric haze was shattered when Hinata's fingers slid around your neck, pressing hard against the sensitive skin as he squeezed and forced you to tilt your head up.

"Open up," he demanded, the head of his cock nudging against your lips and painting them with a thin sheen of his release. "Be a good little cumslut and clean me off."

You parted your lips and allowed him to push his softening cock past the seam, the salty-bitter tang of his cum exploding across your tongue. He held your head still as you swallowed, his gaze never once wavering from the sight.

"That's a good girl," he purred, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek. You whimpered, leaning into the gentle touch, only to have it vanish. "Now, on your feet. We're not done here yet."

It took you several long, painful moments to gather your wits and regain control of your limbs. Your thighs were quivering, weak and unsteady, and your mind was fuzzy. You staggered upright, clinging to the edge of the countertop for support, and glanced back up at Hinata.

He had stepped back, the golden halo of his hair glowing ethereal and unearthly in the moonlight and his eyes burning into yours. You shivered, feeling a fresh trickle of his cum slide down your chest and drip onto the floor.

"Look at the mess you've made, kitten," Shoyo drawled, a predatory gleam to his eyes and a devilish smirk curling his lips. "Such a naughty little slut, making a puddle on the floor and dripping with Daddy's cum."

His thumb swept beneath the curve of your breast, smearing the pearly streaks of his release over your flushed skin. He gathered up a thick dollop and pressed the calloused digit onto the sensitive peak, leaving you trembling and breathless as his thumb and forefinger closed around it and rolled the hardened nub between the pads.

"I think it's only fair that I clean you up in return," he murmured, voice dipping into a husky, sinful timbre. He leaned forward, his lips skimming over the sensitive shell of your ear and eliciting a full-body shudder.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, he was crouching before you and his lips were closing around the puckered nipple, lapping at the salty, musky cum with a low, rumbling groan. Your head dropped back, a garbled moan spilling from your parted lips as his tongue swirled around the aching peak.

Your knees quivered and buckled, but Hinata's hand clamped around the back of your thigh and held you in place. His other hand came up, his broad palm cupping the full swell of your breast and squeezing it. He flicked his tongue against the bud, sucking and laving and coaxing the bead to distend even further, before switching sides and repeating the motion.

"S-Shoyo, please," you whimpered, the ache and need between your legs growing more desperate and unbearable. "I-I can't, I'm gonna—"

His teeth immediately closed around the taut peak, sending a jolt of electricity shooting straight through to your core. You arched into the sensation, a garbled whine slipping past your lips as your hips bucked and ground against the air.

"Ah, ah," Hinata warned, lifting his head and meeting your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of molten gold encircling them. "That’s not how you address me, kitten. Be a good girl and try again."

Your stomach clenched and the ache in your core intensified, the molten pool of arousal spreading throughout every nerve-ending. You swallowed, a whine slipping past your parted lips as you squirmed and fought to form coherent words.

"D-Daddy, please," you finally managed, voice barely a whisper and hoarse and raspy.

"Please, what?"

You could see the way his eyes darkened, the gold flecks seeming to glow. It left you shuddering and quaking in the aftermath, your hips jerking and twitching as his gaze trailed over every inch of your flushed, heaving body.

"P-Please, fuck me," you whispered, cheeks burning and the shame and humiliation making you ache all the more. "Please, Daddy, I-I can't wait any longer."

A low growl, deep and guttural and primal, slipped from him. Then, before you could blink, he was standing and spinning you around. His hands landed on your shoulders, pressing you down until your cheek was flush against the counter and your ass was arched in the air.

"Don't move," he grunted, stepping back and giving your ass a resounding smack that had you mewling and squirming. You could hear him rustling behind you, the slick, obscene glide of his hand over his cock. Then, just as suddenly, his hands were on your hips and his pelvis was pressed against the curve of your ass.

"You want Daddy's cock, kitten?" he husked, the mushroom head slipping between your folds and parting them. He dragged his cock up and down, the blunt tip catching against your clit and the flared ridge rubbing against your swollen, hypersensitive folds.

"Yes!" you keened, back arching and hips grinding and trying to force him inside. "Yes, yes, please! P-Please, give it to me."

Hinata chuckled, his hand coming down in another punishing slap against the swell of your ass. You jerked and moaned, the sting and heat sending a fresh surge of arousal pouring down onto his cock. His cock twitched, the mushroom head catching against the rim of your entrance, and a low hiss spilled from his lips.

"Fucking slut, look how fucking wet and eager you are," he grunted. His hips rocked forward, the tip of his cock just beginning to breach your soaked, tight channel. "You've been waiting for this, haven't you, kitten? Just couldn't wait for Daddy to bend you over and stuff you full of his cock, huh?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, tears burning the backs of your eyes as the need became unbearable. "Oh god, Daddy, I-I've been such a good girl. Please, just—"

His hips snapped forward, the flared mushroom head of his cock splitting you open in a single, brutal thrust. You choked on a gasp, fingers scrabbling against the marble for purchase as a strangled moan slipped from your lips.

"Fuck, look at you," Hinata growled, his fingers digging into the flare of your hips and his cock buried to the hilt. He kept a firm grip on your waist, not allowing you to squirm or wriggle or try to adjust to his massive, pulsing girth, as he slowly pulled back until just the tip remained nestled between your folds. You were dimly aware of how your feet weren’t even touching the floor, how you were simply being held aloft by his bruising grip on your hips and the sheer, impossible size of his cock.

"Look at how easily you take my cock," he hissed, and then slammed back home with a wet, obscene slap. You cried out, eyes rolling back and blunt nails dragging across the countertop, as he set a ruthless, merciless pace.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered, the tears burning the backs of your eyes now trickling down your cheeks and mingling with the saliva dribbling from your lips. "S-Shoyo, please—"

"What did I tell you?" he growled, his pelvis slapping against the curve of your ass and driving his cock even deeper. He reached around, his fingers delving between the apex of your thighs and finding the swollen, aching nub there.

"You don't get to use my name, kitten," he hissed, his middle and ring finger sliding up on either side of the bud and pinching it between them. You squealed, hips jerking and back arching as the pleasure-pain had your head spinning and your vision blurring. "Now, let's try that again, shall we?"

"D-Daddy, please," you choked out, a sob tearing free as his fingers began to slowly, agonizingly roll the bundle of nerves between his fingers.

"Mmm, much better," he cooed, his tone soft and honeyed, though the brutal pace of his thrusts never faltered. His cock seemed to swell even more, the throbbing length spearing impossibly deep and drawing a garbled cry from you.

"God, such a perfect, pretty little cocksleeve," he grunted, his voice a ragged rasp as he leaned forward, blanketing his torso along your spine and pressing you down. The new angle sent the head of his cock slamming into your g-spot, forcing the air from your lungs and leaving you a sobbing, trembling mess.

"Gonna fill you up, kitten," he groaned, lips skimming over the curve of your ear and his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin. You shivered, hips arching and thighs quivering and core clenching, and a desperate mewl spilled from your parted lips.

"Is that what you want, baby? Want Daddy to stuff you full and paint your pretty pussy white?"

"Yes, yes, oh god, please," you babbled, the words tumbling freely and incoherently from your lips. Hinata grunted, his hips snapping and the drag of his cock against your g-spot sending sparks skittering across your vision.

"Fuck, gonna cum, kitten," he panted, his lips moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the curve of your jaw. He reached up, his large hand curling around the column of your neck and squeezing. You felt your eyes flutter, a high, keening cry slipping from your lips, and a moment later, you felt his teeth close around the tender flesh where neck met shoulder.

He slammed his hips forward one final time, and the pain of his bite coupled with the unrelenting assault of his cock, his fingers, was too much. Your release hit, hard and sudden, and it tore a strangled scream from your throat. Your eyes rolled back, limbs seizing and spine arching as the pleasure washed over you in an unending torrent.

Dimly, distantly, you felt Hinata's teeth release their hold, and then he was groaning and his cock was pulsing and twitching as his cum painted the inside of your walls white. The flood of his release was enough to prolong your own orgasm, sending another wave crashing over you and leaving you choking and gasping.

Hinata slumped forward, his weight pinning you to the counter and his cock still nestled deep inside you. You could feel the slow trickle of his release and your own arousal slipping from between your folds and coating the insides of your thighs, but you were far too exhausted and fucked-out to care.

His lips skimmed over the marks left by his teeth, and he slowly straightened. You whimpered at the sudden movement, the stretch and shift of his softening cock still lodged inside. His hands stroked soothingly up and down the expanse of your back, fingers dancing across the knobs of your spine and his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the curve of your shoulder and the slope of your neck.

"I've got you, kitten," he murmured, his tone soft and gentle, in direct contrast to the way his cock was still splitting you open and his cum was still leaking out around it. He eased off of you just enough for you to set your feet on the ground, and you felt the instant your knees buckled.

With a grunt, Hinata wrapped his arm around your waist and kept you upright, his cock still buried to the hilt and his hand splayed flat against your abdomen. You shuddered and sighed, a small, content smile curling your lips and the exhaustion beginning to set in.

"Such a good girl," Hinata hummed, his lips finding the curve of your ear and his hand smoothing up and over the curve of your ribs. "So, so good for me. Daddy's good girl."

You preened at the praise, a shiver skittering up your spine. The ache between your thighs was becoming more bearable, the overwhelming need and desire ebbing away. You felt him shift, felt the slow drag of his cock as he finally pulled out, and whined.

"Shh, it's okay, kitten," Shoyo crooned, his arm still curled around your waist as he reached around and slid his hand down your front. His fingertips dipped between your folds, smearing the remnants of his release and the thick mixture of his cum and your arousal over your aching, abused pussy. You gasped, hips twitching and thighs trembling and your core clenching around nothing.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his palm resting against the apex of your thighs and keeping the heel of his hand pressed firmly against your throbbing clit. You whimpered, squirming, and his arm tightened.

"Stay still, kitten," he ordered, voice dipping into a growl, and you shuddered. "We don’t want to waste a single drop of Daddy's cum, do we?"

Your stomach clenched and you shook your head, lips parted and a thin, reedy mewl spilling out. His cock gave a weak twitch, the fat, swollen head nudging against the curve of your ass, and you felt the slow trickle of his cum leak out of you.

"N-No, Daddy," you mumbled, a shiver running through you and the molten pool of desire reigniting within your core.

"Then be a good girl and stay still."

You did, the only movements coming from the trembling and twitching of your hips and thighs. His palm kept a steady, unrelenting pressure against your clit, his fingertips slowly stroking the slick, sensitive folds and smearing his cum into your skin.

"That's a good girl," Hinata murmured, pressing another soft, tender kiss to the back of your neck. "Now, let's get cleaned up and get some sleep. It's late."

He pulled his hand away, and the sudden lack of contact made you whimper and writhe. You could feel the mess between your thighs, feel the thick, pearly ropes of his release dripping down onto the floor, and the knowledge of it left you breathless and needy.

"Daddy—"

It was just then that the kitchen light flicked on.

[pookieace]

HAND HOLDING WITH THE GENSHIN MEN

contains : fem!reader, smut (yeah this is smutty not soft sry not sry <3 lmaooo), mentions of cervix fucking, size kink, tummy bulges, breeding / impregnation kink, creampies woohoo, oooh the praise in this has me going a lil insane tbh, some degradation too, lots of oral, fingering, soft doms *sniffles* my weakness. includes scenarios for zhongli, kaeya, dain, tighnari, xiao and childe. this is not proof read at all, please ignore any mistakes i will not be fixing them cause i'm lazy :D

i thought about this scenario with xiao and then i spiralled from there. sorry not sorry i needed to get this out of my system actually... i am so unwell bye. likes / reblogs are appreciated and feedback is always welcomed <3 minors dni !!

zhongli : oh he is so big. listen, everythingggggggg about him is big okay, he's literally a dragon like? his hands? big. height? bIG. cock(s)? BIIIIG and he thrives off being big. sinks his cock into you while being in a half dragon form just because his dick is bigger than his human form. golden horns on top of his head, the colour of his skin changing from his normal pale one to somewhat mixed. hues of black, orange, yellow and golden the further you travel down his body. his hands and fingers are slightly longer in this form. nails coloured black, almost resembling claws. he enjoys this form because it lets him keep his human-ness but it also embraces his past. his favourite form when you two get intimate because he wants to see your cunt struggle to take him. "there you go darling, takin' me in so well." he'd whisper as his tip pushes past your entrance, thumb rubbing against your clit. "loosen up for me, that's it." as your cunt begins to flutter around himjdhfhf aaaaa don't even get me started on the bulge he'd make in your tummy :( it's inevitable. he's just so damn big.

favourite position is you on your back, couple of pillows under your body and him holding your waist to raise your lower half off the bed, claws digging into the flesh of your waist as your cunt clenches around his cock. it's only when he's bottomed out and you're bucking your hips to signal him to move that he'd lace his fingers with yours. pins them above your head. have i mentioned zhongli's big? he's so big that he only really requires one hand to have both your wrists in his hold. daddy zhongli is so strong too, doesn't matter how much you move or thrash around when he fucks you, trying to get your wrists out of his hold so you can just touch him, he doesn't budge. waits for you to really beg, tears in your eyes as you sob out "please, please, please" will he soften up. intertwines his fingers with yours as he rocks his hips slower, but sooo deep. leans over to place a kiss to the top of your head while you thank him for letting go, and he does that every time when you two hold hands :( he's so <3 mm yeah best daddy me thinks.

kaeya : this man,, lord kayea is a wild card in my very humble opinion. he's a tease, we all know this. but i think sex to him is so intimate, especially when it's with someone he would give his heart to on a silver platter. he's like the perfect mix of tease and praise and degradation and somehow giving you what you need all at the same time? idk, just listen okay. the word tease might as well just be kaeya's middle name, he's just that good at it. he likes to hear you beg, plays dumb too. "hmm? my sweet little thing, you're so quiet. what did you say, i'm afraid i missed it." all the while he is knuckle deep into your cunt, fingers curling up juuuust right so they nudge your spot. but only just. he knows your body so well it's almost annoying. the curl of his fingers isn't enough to give you proper satisfaction but it is enough to have you crave for more. enough to make you gasp and buck your hips to try and get the satisfaction you need. "ah ah ah, don't be like that. i can't reward you if you're being a needy slut for me darling. use your words." starts withdrawing his fingers and ultimately you need to grab a hold of his wrist and b e g for him not to do that, beg for his touch. it makes his head go a little dizzy if i'm being honest. "there you go. that wasn't so hard now, was it?" and he gives you what you've been needing :( slender, pretty fingers pushing deeper into you till he physically can't anymore. letting them curl against your spongy spot and making you cum with a cry of his name liiike he thrives off teasing you and giving you what you want.

puts his dirty fingers in your mouth while he kisses your stomach, slowly kissing his way up your body (he is a romantic man after all) and makes sure to give your tits a squeeze too. grabs a hold of your chin to make you look at him as you let go of his fingers with a little pop and presses his lips to yours. it's a little messy, slippery and sloppy but you can feel how in love he is with you. spreads your thighs apart so he can press his hard on against your cunt while you kiss, tangles his fingers with yours while he ruts against your centre like he has all the time in the world :(( he takes it sooo slow, grinding against your cunt, the fabric of his boxers rubbing your clit so nicely, his lips against yours, giving your hands a little squeeze as you fiddle around with the elastic on his boxers. he just holds his body weight up with one hand, the other still tangled up with your fingers as you pull down the material just enough to have his cock out and while he fills you up nicely, he just tightens his hold on your hand cause you feel so tight around him every damn time <33

dainsleif : starting this off by saying he is SO touch starved. honorary member of the touched starved crew. he still gets so shy when he sees you naked in front of him no matter how long it's been. dain might look rough and tough on the outside, but he is so soft for you. he adores kisses your body. your lips? he kiss. your cheek? he kiss. top of your head or your nose? he kiss. inside of your wrist where he can get a slight wiff of your perfume? he kiss. but his favourite you may ask? his favourite type (aside from your lips) of kiss is when you're laid out on the bed. where he's between your legs and he's lifting your shirt off, placing kisses along your tummy, the valley of your breasts, then a gentle kiss underneath your earlobe before he's tossing your shirt to the side and making his way down your body again. this time, he places kisses to both your ankles once your pants are off, kissing up both your legs and your thighs. the last kiss he places is to your clit before his thumb presses against your nub, gentle circular motions that already have you seeing stars. dain rests his head against your thigh as he teases and rubs your clit over and over, watching how your hole clenches around nothing.

"always so pretty for me, aren't you?" another soft kiss to your upper thighs that have you wanting to shut your legs at how sensitive you feel. "keep 'em open, that's it. there you go." he'd say, your trembling thighs spreading once again. he's not the best with words of affection but he'll be damned if he doesn't praise you, let you know how pretty you are. how good you are for him. and when your hands clutch his hair and the bedsheets the closer you get to your orgasm, he'd bring the one that was holding the bedsheets closer to his mouth – dain places a kiss to your wrist, to the tips of your fingers before he slides his fingers against it and lets you grip it. he enjoys holding your hand so much while he does this, i cannot stress that enough. he likes it when you feel real. and it's only then, will he place his mouth on your cunt, letting his tongue tease your folds and dipping into your hole to really get a taste of you. feeling a sense of pride when you gasp and whimper out his name, tightening your hold on his hand as the other one still in his hair, buries his face deeper into your pussy.

tighnari : furry king he's so cute, sighs. like kaeya, sex for him is very very intimate with someone he loves. it's not about getting off, it's more so about the gentle touches, the praises that come from both your lips and his, it's about the way you two latch onto each other when you make love and he will die on that hill. yes every now and then, his animalistic urges take over and it is about a quick fuck but more often than not, he likes to explore your body. he loves it when you're straddling him. his favourite thing to do is feel you up while the both of you kiss. even though tighnari takes it slow, his movements almost feel rushed, desperate to have your clothes off. but it's the gentle kind of desperate, you know? where he wants you to be naked so he can appreciate every dip and every curve on your body without any flimsy layers of clothing in the way. hearts in his eyes even though it's the nth time he's seen you naked. you're wearing nothing, seated on his lap while his eyes dart all over your body, never really able to linger on one part for too long. admires how out of breath you are just from a make-out, lips slightly swollen and pinker than usual. continues to place kisses against your jawline to your neck as his hands grope your hips and thighs, eventually one hand inching closer and closer to your heat, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you feel the pad of his thumb finally brush against your clit. "feels good?" he'd mumble against your skin, ears twitching with excitement every time you let out more content noises followed by a soft "yes."

tighnari's good with his fingers, great in fact. he pays attention to your body, listening to every noise and taking mental note of how your body squirms in his hold as he touches you – he's so good that your hands don't really know where they should go. sometimes digging into the skin of his shoulders or his biceps. sometimes when he hasn't riled you up to where the only replies he wets are broken whimpers, they're in tighnari's hair, patting just behind his ears which has him rutting his hips against you, or sometimes they're just tangled in his locks tightly as you need to feel something to ground you. but tighari's favourite is when you plead him for his hand. the little taps against his bicep or wrist make his heart melt, followed by the "hold me, please." it almost makes the animal in him want to manhandle you, toss you on the bed and pin you there while his cock is hitting your cervix and you can't do anything but lay there and just take it. but the rational part of him tells him no. the rational part of him brings your hand to his lips, places a kiss to each and every one of your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours, all while his other hand is buried knuckle deep in your cunt and being soaked with your juices.

xiao : he is very very very desperate with how he holds your hands. it's more so to remind himself that you're there with him, that you're real. he's a very passionate lover, how could he not be after eons and eons of thinking he's alone? of eons and eons of being alone. he's also a honorary member of the touched starved crew god he is so DJKFDHJGKD i'm so in love w him <333 he just wants to please you okay? like. all the time. every day. whenever you ask him or hint at it, he's ready to give you anything you want. he would do aaaaaanything for you to be honest. he's not very good with words, he knows he's terrible with words. but what he lacks vocally, he makes up for it with his actions instead. slow, but deliberate. almost like he's forgotten all those little stripes and freckles on your skin even though he's been memorising every dip and every mark whenever you two get intimate. gentle, barely there touches while he takes your clothes off, ghosts his fingertips over your pussy and breasts at first. likes it when you inhale sharply but he does give in. he's not much of a tease like kaeya is, gives in so quick. "'m gettin' there. just wait." he'd grumble, but there's no bite behind it all all. places a kiss to your hip bone before he spreads your legs and laps your cunt like a starved man. he's so good with his tongue, i can't stress that enough. another man who makes sure you've came on his tongue or fingers before he thinks about fucking you. the thing about xiao is, he gets pussy drunk so quick, and so very easily. the second he hears you let out a sigh of satisfaction after his mouth is on you, he's gone.

he's soo gone. xiao is an adepti, he's much stronger than humans. it's super easy for him to hold your body down with his hands, whether they be on you waists or even hooked around your thighs, he's not moving his mouth off you until he feels your hole clenching and gushing. or unless you're trying to pry his head off cause you "wan' be filled, please xiao!" flips you onto your back and makes sure your face is pressed into the mattress and your ass is up ohh my goddjghf yeah,, fucks you like that actually, he's pussy drunk. let him bury his cock in your cunt any way he wants plssss. he may not be long, but fuck is he thick. makes you clench the bedsheets while your noises are muffled out by the bed but :( xiao needs to hear you – tugs your back flush against his chest, makes his cock go even deeper in you that you're going dizzy and you're even more dizzier when you feel his fingers on your clit aaaa. firm believer xiao uses one hand too rub your clit while the other turns your head towards him so he can kiss you :(( he loves kissing you so much when you're fucking, tries to kiss you every time before you cum on his cock. it's so romantic for him. feels you cum around his cock and he's trying to hold back a groan but but but that's when he moves his hand that was on your clit to hold yours :( still kissing you too till he orgasms and spills his cum deeep in you and makes out with you for a couple of minutes. doesn't really care how sloppy it is, he just likes kissing you while you hold hands like that :((

childe : listen... childe is actually so romantic (we'll get there soon) i dunno about you. hand holding is his middle name, it's true i've seen the birth certificate. a romantic, mean perv is the best way to describe him. such a tease too. he won't give you what you need till he sees tears in your eyes or you actually start crying. he's kinda mean about it too. gets you sooo close to an orgasm only to just rip it away. "nawww, you cryin sweets?" and proceeds to lick your tears away. "don't cry, you pretty thing. gonna give you what you need, 'kay? just lay back f'me. there you go." smiles darkly when you listen to him again and lay your body flat against the bed again while shaking. and he just keeps doing that until you're full blow sobbing. "aj– ha– 'jax! please.. can' take it a'more... need to c-cum please." and watches you grip his wrists while you cry. it sets him off. he loves that you can get so pathetic for him :( some days when he's made you cry by not letting you cum, his favourite this is having you on top. just to add a little bit more humiliation into the mix. lays down first and gets all comfy without telling you what he's doing and just pats his lap. "not gonna get over here? thought you wanted to cum." has you scrambling over and once you're straddling him he'd put his hands on your thighs and just stroke them since they're shaking so much. but gives them a little slap, just enough for there to be a sound but not enough to hurt when he feels you try to lift your hips to take his cock in "relax baby. didn't i say i'm gonna give you what you need?" hhhh and when your thighs have calmed down and he's made your lips all swollen from kissing you so much will he lift your hips for you, letting you guide his cock into your hole and gives you time to get used to the stretch when he's bottomed out.

while you're taking your time and breathing whilst trying to hold back the orgasm that's approaching once being filled up, he'd let his fingertips trail up your arm, hand cupping the side of your face and rubbing his thumb along your lash line to gather the tears that haven't fallen yet and makes you suck the saltiness away from his thumb... and that makes his cock twitch in you. doesn't let you move though, wants to see how ruined you look before he's even fucked you right. and once he's admired you enough he'd go "c'mere sweets." and proceeds to hold out his hand for you. coos at how your hand is sooo tiny in his though. and he lets his other arm wrap your lower back, essentially he has you resting your head against his tits while you two hold hands. it's gentle, a contrast to how he was being mean to you earlier. as you grind on his cock and the little tufts of hair on his lower tummy make you cum around his cock, he brings your intertwined hands to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of your hand and bucks his hips up into your pussy to get to his high. but the thing is, once ajax feels soft like this, he'd just keep you above him, kiss you and keep holding your hands till he's hard again and fuck you till your lower halves are all messy and sticky.

[sujiri]

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹ random days with papamin

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: nanami kento x fem!reader, papamin!au, househusband!nanami, married life, fluff

a/n: I love papamin!au sm. I'm loving the headcanon that he's a girl dad.

𐙚 candies

another day with nanami kento and his daughter left home as soon you went to work this morning. particularly, it's not boring that they are home. he makes sure that she's entertained since she's very in need of attention from her parents. a little while later, kento checks their food and supplies and thought to go out. he then dresses his daughter so they can go to the grocery store.

“papa, may we buy this?” she asks as she shows a bag of candy— those orange shaped gummies that's quite popular lately to kids to be exact, to her papa. kento was a bit busy reading the contents of the seasoning that his attention caught. he was planning to buy some ingredients for tonight's dinner. going back, his attention went to his daughter, who is still showing the candies to him. “sweety, you just placed a pack of gummy before that.” after being said, she looks down at the cart and noticed the pack of gummy bear candies she just placed before.

she looks at kento again and he looks back at her without any word. just staring at each other, as if they're reading each other's minds. ah.. there she goes, giving him the puppy eyes. she knows that she's a daddy's girl, therefore she's going to beg for another pack of candies without any use of verbal communication. not until she gives up

“more please?” she asked politely. kento stares at his child again, he wants to say no, but she might be upset to him if he does. while thinking of the right answer, he then remembers your last scolding to your daughter being stubborn after you said no on buying her a new toy, resulting kento thought to take it as an advantage.

“you want mama angry?”

“no, papa.” she quickly answered.

“good.” he simply answers, he even noticed a hint of pout that forms in his daughter's face. it makes him want to chuckle but he hold it back, she's cute after all. victory

𐙚 first day

“papa, we go home now?” his now 5 year old daughter asks as soon they arrived at her school. there's always things for first days and first times, she was all prepared for the special day, she's neatly wearing her ironed uniform and he even mastered to tie her hair into pigtails— all looking pretty. she was so excited these past days because she's going to school as a kindergarten, but right now it seems the bright and thrilled daughter you have turns out to be so nervous and scared. obviously, wants to go home as soon she saw she'll be alone inside a classroom filled with other kids she doesn't know. especially she even saw other kids crying while clinging to their parents begging and telling them to leave at once.

“no, sweety. we just got here and it's your first day.” kento kneels on her height level and patted her head. he notices the quite fear look painted in her face as he lightly pinch her cheek to catch her full attention. “hey sweety, it's gotta be alright, papa will be watching you from outside.” he assures and holds her small hands as she nods. thinking that there is nothing to worry about since she have her papa around.

“me do great, papa!”

“that's my princess, good job.” he smiles and walks to the entrance with her holding her papa's hand.

𐙚 princess

“papa! me going to be princess!” she excitingly says while jumping. kento hums as his lips curve into a smile, looking at her daughter while watching her favorite princess movie. cheering and singing here and there and showing you both how she twirls and dance, imagining like a ‘real’ princess while wearing her new dress you both gifted.

“you're already a princess, dear.” you said and your daughter clings to your lap. “papa will be my prince!” her eyes sparkles and you both look at kento who has a soft look to his world. he can't help but smile, kento stands up and holds both her hands since she was raising it. your husband and daughter dance in front of you, filling with laughter and giggles your home. “mama dance too!” she reaches her hand to you— you have no hesitation to join your dearests.

“anything you want as long its you, our princess.”

[marvelstan0905]

Random Kenji Sato Boyfriend Headcanons:

TW : fluffy/slight angst/ idk what else lmao

©all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

"Small Gestures"

Kenji is the king of small gestures. This man be peeling your oranges. Feeding you. If you have your menstrual days, Kenji keeps a stack of pads, wet wipes, tampons and clean menstrual cups everywhere and in the car. Kenji is the type to keep notifications on when you have your days or when your ovulating [do with that information what you will😈]

"Communication"

We all know what happened in the movie. We all know that Kenji rarely cries and he holds in his feelings till eventually he kinda bursts. With you, yes you, the best partner, you'd kinda have to coax it out of him. Get him to tell you what's bothering or what's wrong. It would take a lot of patient and understanding. Kenji would really try is damndest to communicate despite his habits.

"Intimacy"

Kenji would be really patient and understanding when it comes to sex and intimacy. The man would praise and worship you all night. We all know this man would be the type to pin your hands above your head and make you look into his eyes. I definetly feel like a Kenji is a hard dom/brat tamer kinda guy. I can definetly see the daddy kink coming. He's definetly an equal giver and receiver. Man's is definetly kinky and I definetly feel like he'd very open to try anything, long as he's in control. And his aftercare is top tier. The hot bath and cuddles with loving affirmations.

"Love & Marriage"

Don't know why, Kenji gives off 'dating to marry' vibes. The man's been distant with everybody, keeping people away at an arm's leg but after finally finding that perfect person. Kenji is all the way. He's commited. Forever. As in you won't shake him off ,even if you try [you wont😑]. He's the most loyal sweetheart and baby ever. Hurting our man here is like killing a puppy. Don't do it. I feel like he'd dead deadass get a tattoo with your name and the date of your birthday. That's how commited he is.

"Chivalry"

I'm talking opening doors, sliding out chairs. Kenji will hold your hand when you go down the stairs and when you're sitting down just to make sure you're safe and make sure you sit nicely. If you wear a skirt and it's cold, he'll lay his jacket on your legs. If you're cold in general his jacket is yours. His arms are yours. He just wants to make sure you're warm and happy. God forbid, it rains. Kenji won't even allow you outside because he doesn't want you to get cold but if you were already outside. You'd have most of the umbrella.

"Clinginess & Attention"

Clingy. He'll never ever let you go. Once you're his, you're trapped and commited [a dream ,really😌] Kenji would always find some time of way to be touching you. Somehow. His pinkies linked with yours or you're feet are touching. He just needs the contact. He's a clingy, baby. He needs your attention and love. He's been deprived🥺 give him the attention he deserves.

-What do you guys think? I've decided to open up requests but they'll be open starting 26 June at 5PM [MT ] up until 28th June 1PM [MT].I don't want to be overwhelmed or swapped!I've been feeling a little burned out nowadays hehe so I need to recuperate! Speaking of requests, If I don't feel like I can do it or it's just something I'm not comfortable with ,I will delete your ask! I'm sorry! Thank you so much for the love and support!

Gif credit @soranatus

[connorsui]

You know, something that I was thinking about while I was walking my way towards my car was how the lads' men would treat you on mothers day with their kids?

Like think about it? — the morning hasn't even started yet, and they are already up and ready for the day before you could even crack a centimeter of your eyelids. and that's not because they didn't bother to wake you up on such an important day…

But because they promised their kiddo, they would serve you breakfast in bed

Like Xavier?... Now you cannot tell me Xavier wouldn't guide his toddler on how to properly stir the pancake batter from the bowl– like this man is patient, gently guiding their tiny hands with his own– he would soften and tender his voice as his baby tells him how much they want their momma to love it – that I even bet you by the time you wake up to the smell of pancakes and fruit on a tray …Xavier is already standing by your bedside with your child proudly presenting their new creation.

“Papa, is this enough?” they ask, holding up a slightly uneven cup of flour. Xavier glances at it, his blue eyes soft with patience.

“A little more,” he murmurs, placing his hand over theirs to guide the pour. “Careful, not too much.”

They continue working together in silence, Xavier focused on making sure everything is perfect, while the child chatters excitedly about surprising you.

“I bet Mama’s going to love this!” they exclaim, cheeks dusted with flour. Xavier’s lips twitch into a small smile, his voice steady as ever.

“She’ll love it because you made it for her.”

Sylus: now we know this man can cook ..and if he could ..he would prepare an entire cuisine that would rival Michelin star restaurants…he can make it basic ..but we all know he won't..it ain't gonna be some cereal with milk and maybe an orange on the side..NAH ..he gonna be wide awake in the morning with your toddler bouncing all over him in the kitchen eager to help at all costs to give you what you deserve – like he would task your baby to give your favorite drink in the morning in a glass cup as he whisks eggs and butter together.

“Daddy, I think I made a mess,” she says, eyes wide with innocence.

Sylus smirks, wiping a streak of flour off her nose with his thumb. “It’s not a mess. It’s art,” he declares, glancing at the bowl of slightly lumpy batter.

She giggles again, bouncing on her toes. “Mommy likes art …right?”

“Yes, she does," Sylus says, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as he pulls the tray together. “But maybe next time, we’ll leave the drinks to me, alright?”

Zayne: …now zayne tho …zayne is a different story ..he always lets his actions speak louder than his words and this is no different like he doesn't need to tell you how much he appreciates you but the gentle way he guides your toddler as they cut fruit says everyyyythingggg — like he would let them take the lead and offering quiet encouragement as your baby carefully cuts another strawberry in half

They frown, concentrating hard as they carefully slice the strawberries, while Zayne watches quietly, offering the occasional word of encouragement. “You’re doing great,” he says, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he slices the melons beside them.

“Is Mama still sleeping?” they ask, their voice soft with excitement.

Zayne nods, his green eyes glowing with quiet pride. “She’ll be surprised when she sees what we’ve made.”

As they finish assembling the fruit salad, Zayne picks up the tray, balancing it carefully with one hand while resting the other on his child’s shoulder. “Ready?” he asks, and they nod eagerly.

When they walk into the room, your child bounces onto the bed, proudly holding up a forkful of fruit. “Mama, look! I helped!”

Zayne sits beside you, his voice low and warm as he says, “Happy Mother’s Day, love. We wanted to make this day special for you.”

Rafayel: …oh my lord ..rafayel ..listen you walk into that kitchen and it's gonna be mess …ur toddler still gonna be smiling in the corner all proud of themselves saying how much they love you and prepared you sum scramble eggs with toast— only for it to be burnt and half baked. Flour is everywhere…the fruits they planned to put together that your toddler suggested they should make a smiley face with the eggs as eyes?? …all over the place. But it doesn't mean the morning went to waste!? – the whole scenery is adorable and filled with affection that you bet Rafayel is still going to say it was made with love.

You wake up to the unmistakable sound of chaos coming from the kitchen. There’s laughter, the clatter of dishes, and... the smell of something burning? You sit up, rubbing your eyes, just as Rafayel strides into the room, a lazy grin on his face and your toddler trailing behind him, still beaming.

“Mama! We made you breakfast!” your toddler shouts, bouncing on their toes with excitement.

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Yeah, ‘breakfast’ might be a generous word for it.”

Consui random thoughts

[azsazz]

A Snowy Starfall

Daddy!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Batbabies waging their OWN snowball fight imitating their dad & uncles. Some take it too seriously, others don't take it seriously at all, it's pure chaos that ends in cocoa.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,003

Notes: Happy Holidays my loves 💙

_________________________________________

“Come on, you three,” you tut towards your mate and his friends. They’re standing before the large glass windows overlooking your backyard. The sun casts deep oranges and reds across the snow-ridden land, your children shrieking as they play in the snow. A valiant snowball fight is running its course, and Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand stand, faces pressed to the windows as they watch, quietly cheering their children on. “They’re going to notice you staring.”

“Maybe they already have,” Feyre adds from her spot at your kitchen counter. She’s concentrating intently on decorating a cookie, adding swirls of black icing to the gingerbread woman’s hand, creeping up her extended arm. The cookie’s dress is provocative, bare dough legs showing between slats of laced icing. She hardly glances up as she continues, “They’re probably imitating them as we speak.”

Curious, you peek out the window, too. Indeed, Wren and Baz have built a fortress in the snow to protect themselves from the onslaught of snowballs being thrown their way. Gideon and Nyx have joined forces against the two brothers, the latter packing the fluffy snow into tight, white balls, while Gideon launches their ammo towards your sons.

Your eldest daughter, Zuzu, and Nyx’s younger sister, Asteria, had joined the competition early on. They’d been a formidable team too, but grew bored of their brothers and cousin who were taking the snowball fight a little too seriously. Now, they are in the snow with little Castor, who had cried until she’d been let outside by her protective father, bundled up in so many clothes her wings nearly disappeared into the fabric. The girls are making snow angels, though Castor’s looks very much like a circle on the lawn.

Dark streaks dart behind the wall your sons have built and you frown, watching as Baz’s shadows help roll clumps of snow closer, creating perfectly circular snowballs. From what you’d heard from your husband’s friends, using shadows was against any and all snowball fight rules.

You cut Azriel a glance but he’s conveniently occupied, watching the game outside.

“Well, at least they’re both on the same team,” you comment to your mate, who refuses to let his gaze stray from the little boys. Good, he can watch them while he does the dishes then, since there’s a window above the sink. You pat him on the ass, nodding towards the mess of dishes in the sink. He nods in response, loping quickly over to peer out the window again. “So they’ll either both lose or both win.”

“They’ll both win,” Az responds immediately, a quick but pointed look your way. “They do take after me.”

Cassian scoffs behind you and you turn to see a scowling Nesta shooting him a look as he tries to steal a cookie. Jax giggles in her lap at his uncle's antics, but when Cassian hands him part of the cookie and its head falls off, Jax’s smile wobbles. He’s not outside due to the nature of his powers. As an empath, sensing the competitive nature of his siblings and the sting of a snowball to the face, it had been in his best interest to be inside around the luscious scents of cookies and warmth, instead of out in the bitter snow.

Nesta coos, bouncing him, and Cassian is thankful for the distraction, slipping further down the counter to where the High Lord sits, trying—and failing—to gain his mate's attention. The commander slips an arm around Rhys’ shoulders and glares at the back of Azriel’s head, continuing his complaining. “The only reason you’ve won so many is because of those damn shadows, Az.”

Azriel throws over his shoulder, wincing as Baz takes a snowball to the face, his face going red with fury. “How was I supposed to know they were unaffected by the magic restrictions?” he claims, sending said shadows out into the yard once he sees Baz’s slipping through the snow, headed for the icicles hanging off the railings of the porch. His intercept his sons in a display of authority, spearing them into blackened mist. Baz glances up to the window, locking eyes with his father, who wears a look of warning on his face, brow raised. Azriel watches his son visibly huff and take his anger out on the snow, building a ball and launching it across the playing field in frustration.

His gaze cuts across the yard, narrowing his eyes. Gideon and Nyx are crouched low behind their own pile of snow, looking like they’re scheming. He wants to trail his shadows in their direction, listen in on their conversation, but he’s alerted to Malos’ whines from the other room. If one of his youngest is awake, they either both are, or will be soon.

“Malos is up,” Az tells you softly, shutting off the water to the sink. He wipes his hands on a towel and kisses you gently on the cheek. You’re mixing color into icing for the cookies, getting ready for when it’s too dark out for the children to play. They’ll get all cleaned up and have some hot chocolate to warm their bellies, and you, Feyre, and Nesta have baked cookies for all of the children to decorate. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll join,” Cassian answers, stealing another cookie off of a platter. He dunks it into your icing to the neck, the cookie dripping with sugary goodness as he lifts it to his mouth, shoving it inside. He ducks under your glare. “Gotta go get my baby.”

Cassian and Nesta’s youngest daughter, Sif, had been put down for a nap with both Knox and Malos. She’s still a little too young to be outside without supervision, and the eldest children of the Inner Circle demanded time outside without their parents, probably because they knew their fathers would try and take over their snowball fight had they been outside. They didn’t want any tips or tricks, not even your children, even with Azriel’s hundred of wins beneath his belt.

Jax climbs from Nesta’s lap over Rhys who lets out a harsh exhale when his knee lands a little too close to his private area, and then over to Feyre, who finally sets her cookie down to scoop your middle son in her arms.

“Pretty,” Jax comments, pointing at her decorative cookie. It looks just like her, and there’s one next to it that looks a little like Rhysand. Purple dots for eyes stare up at him. “Uncle Rhysie?”

“Good job, Jax,” Feyre coos, pressing kisses to his cheeks. They pink with a blush and he settles into her arms, looking utterly at bliss. He revels in the warmth of her emotions, the pride surging through her. It feels like warm bubbles in his chest, and he noses at her collar.

“Look who’s ready to party,” Azriel announces, entering the room, arms full with your two youngest children, Malos and Knox. Knox still looks a little sleepy, head resting against Azriel’s shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. His tiny wings are droopy with sleep, and his twin sister, Malos, is already reaching for the cookies. 

Nesta is quick to scoop her away from Azriel. She claims not to have a favorite niece, but Malos and her have an understanding. You see more of Nesta in Malos’ personality than any of the children of the Inner Circle, and you’re extremely happy that they have such a close connection. 

“Hi baby,” you greet Knox, who is signing mommy to you. You ease him out of Azriel’s arms, who promptly returns to his position in front of the window, pressing exaggerated kisses to his chubby cheeks. It makes him smile wide, flaring those wings that he hasn’t quite figured out how to control. “Are you ready for some yummy cookies?”

His dark eyes light with excitement. Of course your children are ready for sweets, they always are. They picked that up from Azriel, who has the biggest sweet tooth you’ve ever seen.

Cassian reenters the room with his daughter in his arms and Rhys pouts. Almost everyone in the room is preoccupied with a child in their arms, except for him. Maybe he can convince Feyre to have one more. The youngest children in the family are two now and he misses having a tiny babe around.

By the heated look in her eyes, his mate seems to be considering the same, sneaking past those shadowy walls in his mind to catch a glimpse of his thoughts. The High Lord smirks. He sends her over some imagery to go with his thoughts, and her cheeks go red. That hot look turns into one of warning, and she’s speaking out loud now, “Why don’t you call the children inside so they can get warmed up and decorate some cookies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rhys sweeps from his seat in a wisp of darkness. 

Breaking a cookie in half, you give part of it to Knox, who signs thank you, munching on the sweet. The other half is passed to Malos as you head towards where your mate is finishing up the dishes, leaning against him for a moment, reveling in all of your family happily together.

“I love you,” Azriel murmurs into your hair, leaning over to sneak a bite of Knox’s cookie. Your son stares up at his father with wide eyes, and like this, he looks just like Az. It makes your heart warm, and Jax squeals in happiness in response, your happiness radiating to him. It makes your grin wider, peeking over your shoulder to see him so content in his aunt's arms. 

“I love you too, Az,” you whisper back to him, resting your forehead against his. 

It’s a nice moment, until the children from outside are wrangled through the door by Rhys. The boys are arguing about who has won their snowball fight, while the girls are peeling away their winter gear, excited to decorate cookies with icing and sprinkles and the edible petals Elain had given you before her trip to the Summer Court with Lucien. 

“Now, now, boys,” Rhys starts, but the diplomatic tone he’s using does nothing to deter the cousins from arguing. “I’m sure we can come to a consensus without yelling and acquiescing.”

“But Baz used his shadows,” Nyx complains, wringing his gloves between his hands in frustration. “We all saw it.”

“Nyxie, don’t be mean to Baz,” Wren counters, brows furrowed. He doesn’t like it when his family argues, especially over trivial things. His heart is so kind. “You can win the snowball fight if you want, but Baz and I are gonna win the cookie decorating contest, right Bazzy?”

“No,” Baz says flatly, dropping his gear onto the floor. You give him a look but he almost seems un-bothered by it, done with the debate his cousins are currently having. “We won the snowball fight and we’re going to win the cookie decorating contest.” 

You share a look with your mate, watching the scene unfold. Baz is quite the Stubborn Suriel, no matter what it comes to.

“Dad,” Nyx groans, “Can’t you do something?”

Cassian is the one who comes to the rescue, Castor reaching up at him for her sister. He helps the little one down and the older one with her undressing, peeling her thermals off layer by layer. “It’s not about who won, right boys? It’s about spending time and having fun with the ones you love.”

Feyre, Nesta, and yourself awe at his words, but Azriel and Rhysand are rolling their eyes and muttering under their breath at Cassian’s cheesy words. 

“What a kiss ass.”

“Smug fucker.”

“Azriel,” you hiss, turning your body away from him, like that will hide Knox from his vulgar words. “Language.” 

He winces, “Sorry love.” 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now, bouncing Knox in your arms a little as you turn fully from your mate. You poke Knox’s belly playfully before addressing the rest of the room. “How about those cookies, then? They won’t decorate themselves!”

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part II: I See Your Father as My Father

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part III

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Inappropriate relationships; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Ass play lite; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Praise kink; Aftercare; Size kink; Spitting; Come eating; Thigh fucking; Oral sex

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 12.3K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

2. I See Your Father as My Father

When he swings the door open, he’s still half pulling a t-shirt over his curl messed head, faded gray, rust orange longhorn across the front, a flash of hair sprinkled belly. All man, man, man. It stretches over his broad shoulders so the holes strewn there stretch and gape wide making your face heat unbearably. And he’s struck silent for a second, realizing it’s you taking up space on his front porch, trying to hide against the shadow of the wooden beam at your back, ringing his bell in the middle of the night like the Devil’s on your heels. Brow pulled low, he steps out onto the porch, into the shadows with you, his gaze flashing back and forth between your eyes. He says your name, and you hate it. “Did somethin’ happen? Are you alright?” And you want to say no, that nothing is alright. That you know you shouldn’t be here, but you’re here anyways now, and so he needs to tell you what’s going to happen next because this is as far as you’d planned. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, that’s as far as you’d planned. The rest is up to him now, even if he doesn’t know it. Your eyes fall down the long, broad length of him. Rumpled jeans, hastily pulled on, and his bare feet, oddly erotic. They’re paler than the rest of him, sun deprived, and briefly, ridiculously, you wonder if he has that funny sock tan men get around their ankles. The skin stretched over strong tendon and bone, beautifully arched. You give a tiny shake of your head, something like a whimper slipping up your throat. And you think he must realize or understand because he sighs, long and drawn out, dragging his palm over his mouth as he watches you struggle. You think that’s his tell, that dragging hand; he does it when he’s thinking, confused, worried, upset which leads you to worry that maybe he’s upset you’re here now, but it’s done, you’ve come. There’s nothing either of you can do to undo it now. Your eyes move back up to his face, and he’s taking stock of you now also. The soft, loose jersey shorts, too big pullover almost covering them entirely, the sleeves twisted around your clenched fingers. “You gotta tell me what you’re doin’ here, sweetheart. You gotta say it out loud.” You let out a rough, frustrated sound through your clenched teeth, looking away from him for a second. 

“We never talked about it,” you say instead because you want to hear him acknowledge it, you want that to be said out loud. 

He understands immediately, “You never gave me a chance to.”

You look back at him, he’s taken a step closer, and you wrap your arms back behind the beam, trying to meld yourself to the wood, keep yourself away from him.

“What else was I supposed to do? If we talked about it, it would’ve happened again.”

“Well, then that’s why – that’s why we never talked about it.”

“But did you want to?” And your voice breaks a little at the end, “Did you want to talk about it?”

He sighs again, a muttered curse under his breath. He isn’t going to give you the easy way out. “Tell me why he left you,” and you flinch. He, his son. It’s the truth, no reason to cower. You were left. You have to look away again, unable to confess this when looking into the kinder version of eyes that never loved you. 

“I think you know. I think you could tell from the very first moment you saw us together.” He hums his agreement, and the sound fucking hurts. “He never loved me. He never even really liked me, I don’t think. But that became okay after a while.” A tear falls, and you listen to the sound of him suck in a sharp breath; it makes you smile just a little, that small sound. You look back at his face, “I don’t want you to think I’m not okay with that now because I really am. It made me realize that he’d never been what I wanted or needed either. That he couldn’t ever give me what I wanted either.”

“And what’s that?” His voice sounds gentle, but you know that it’s put on. You know there isn’t going to be anything gentle about this. 

You choose to ignore that, “You know he said once, that I’d lied to him about who I was. But I didn’t�� I really didn’t, Joel,” and you say it with such panic, or fervor, or something that’s desperate to ensure that he doesn’t think the same of you. That he doesn’t take you for a liar also. “He just couldn’t understand that this is the only way I know how to be. Being scared all the time makes you a liar. It makes you what the moment needs you to be no matter what that is. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what you mean,” but he looks nervous, the truth of him too close to the surface, and it soothes you. The two of you are the same, you knew it. 

You peek down at your twisted fingers, nails gnawed raw and bloody and disgusting. “I don’t think he ever loved me and that made me sad. But now, I don't think I ever loved him either, and that makes me sadder. It was all for nothing, I let him turn me into that thing for nothing, and I was always waiting for him to treat me better, different. But a person who can treat you badly once usually finds it quite easy to do it again.” You look back up at him, shocked for a moment at your sharp honesty. “I’m sorry. He’s your son. I shouldn’t say these things to you,” even thought it sounds like hypocrisy, for look at where you’re standing in the middle of the night.

“And you’re you.”

And the sober way he says it sobers you, recenters you. “Yes. I’ve always been only myself.” And it’s the truth, the most difficult one. That despite Sam’s claims that you’d made him believe you to be someone you weren’t, despite the sick desire for complacency, to please all those around you, you have always been only you. Even when they’d tried to force you to be something you weren’t, you were still always only yourself. You say it again, just to hear the sound of the words. 

“You gotta tell me what you’re doing here then. You want to talk about that? About what happened that night? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, that telling gesture over his stern mouth again. “If we do this, there’s no goin’ back, and I–”

“There already is no going back for me. I can’t forget. I can’t stop remembering.”

“It would be different– if we– if I take you, it’ll be different. You get me? I won’t be able to stop. I know myself well enough to know that. I won’t be able to stay away from you after.”

“I don’t care.”

“So that’s what you want?” But you can’t say the words out loud, you can’t, you can’t. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated by your own desire, small and slanted. Despite all your progress, and as much as you want it, you still know you shouldn’t. “I gotta fuckin’ hear it, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You shake your head a little, another tear, wrapping your arms around yourself. You can see the fight in his eyes, trying to hold you off from the inside out. I don’t know, another tear. He makes a frustrated noise, turning to pace to the opposite end of the porch, hand fisted in his hair. When he turns back he seems to deflate, eyes going cool and steady and then, suddenly, like a ricochet, bright and light, a flash fire. Once more: “What do you want?” To be wanted. To be good. “You want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?”

And your eyes flutter closed in relief, there it is, finally, the hard part’s over. It’s been said out loud. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He’s on you in three ground eating strides, big hand wrapping around the contours of your jaw, the other fisting in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you up so that you’re balanced on the tips of your toes. Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting embarrassingly ready for him to kiss you, but he gives your head a little shake between his palms. “You’re supposed to belong to my son, goddamnit. I’m not supposed to want you like this. This is wrong.”

“I never belonged to him,” and then bitter truth, honesty laminated in humiliation, “And I don’t care if it’s wrong.” Followed by a thought, a wash of shyness, held in his hands as you are, large strong hands: there is a part of me that feels very innocent still, naive, experienced hands that will finally teach you how to be good. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the sun roughened skin of his throat, and when you look back up at his eyes, there is nothing like innocence, nothing like naivety in them, only the reflection of something complex, something more. He goes very still, almost vibrational with restraint, his fingers clench around you once, and then, with unbearable control, his hands flex open, releasing you. 

“Get in the house,” he says very, very quietly. You cup your own palm around the space of your chin where he’d gripped you and turn on your toes, scampering inside, into the home of the man who would have remained your father-in-law for the rest of your life had his son ever decided to love you. The door slams shut behind him. 

-

He steps into the dark restroom with a staying hand out and ready, as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal. 

His son, his son is a cruel and small man. Joel is coming to realize this with something like horror running in currents beneath his skin. Quick to anger, quick to aggression. And you, his daughter-in-law, no one knows this better than you do. He’d naively thought, when his fully grown son had appeared at his door steps all those months ago, that the question Joel had carried on the tip of his tongue for half of his adult life had finally been answered. Alone but never necessarily lonely, something like a film of boredom and monotony over his life. He was content with the place he’d made for himself; he had his business and his brother and friends, and Joel was fine. But a child of his own, he’d never expected it, never even considered it a possibility. And what he’d come to discover: his son, who shouldn’t still be a child, but in many ways, was. 

He licks at the groove of his molar as he watches the tremble of your back, trying to hide your weeping face in the shadows of the bathroom wall. A small, anxious thing that had been, out of everything, perhaps the biggest shock of all. To learn that he had a son, an entire life lost to time, and that there was someone in the world that his son should have loved enough to tie himself to – it was shocking. To discover that his son was married when Joel was not, disorienting. 

He says your name softly and watches the jerk of your frame, that vein of anxiety he’d sensed in you from the get go that he was fairly certain Sam had a large part in sowing. You’d shown up with your hair picked up today, only the second time you’ve ever worn it so. Piled messy at the top of your head, a few strands laying against the nape of your neck, the vulnerable slope of your shoulder. He feels strangely afraid of you, afraid for you. Unsure of what to say, heart beating out of his chest, rebounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure you can hear it. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it. He–”

“Please, don’t apologize for him.” A tiny sniffle. “Don’t apologize for him,” you say again, and there’s a hum of exhaustion in your voice, brokenness, it makes Joel go from afraid to entirely terrified, but then angry too… angry too. He takes a step forward, another, he’s an arms length away from you now. He could touch you if he was brave enough. If the intent behind it wasn’t as wrong as it is. Angry because he’s looking at that vulnerable nape, imagining the fit of his palm molded over the delicate column, and you’re something to be taken care of. Something like a gift. Even though he doesn’t know you well enough to say such a thing yet, even though he shouldn’t be thinking such a thing about his daughter-in-law. Even though you hold yourself with a hard rigidness most of the time, quiet dignity and cold vulnerability that seem almost impossible to get through. And yet he suspects that with enough care and patience you could become immediately soft, easily penetrated. He should see his son as a gift, and he does, he does, he does, he swears he does. If Joel repeats it enough times in his mind surely he’ll come to believe it with his whole heart, but what he sees more than the gift of a child that was kept from him, is nothing but a boy beating down a creature that was not taught to defend itself. And that makes him angry beyond belief. 

Joel can be a hard man. He is a hard man. Perhaps, a large part of the reason why he’s still alone, why nothing more than a quick fuck ever seems to work out for him. Women like him, they enjoy his company, they come to bed with him easily. But Joel is hard and cold, and he’s never much minded his aloneness, a difficult thing to sell to a woman, the reality that he doesn’t really care to need anyone else. And so perhaps, this is his son’s inherited vice, that coldness, but despite Joel’s preference for solitude, for the fact that he doesn’t care about making a person stick around, he tries to never be cruel, and he is sure to never hurt those that are more easily hurt than himself. He doesn’t think there’s any worse sort of sin, and so he knows that this cruelty he’s witnessing didn’t come from him. But then he thinks that if it didn’t come from him, then it surely came as a consequence of him, of his absence, and so he is just as responsible for it. So he can’t help himself when, instead of more platitudes in favor of his gift of a son, he says: “You should leave him.” You let out a bitter sound of a laugh, something that pokes at that wound of fear of his. 

“Should I? I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth. It’s what you need to hear right now,” The sweetheart he adds at the end has a tiny shiver moving down the length of your spine that his own vertebrae can’t help but imitate. You hang your head, bearing more of that lovely nape, head seemingly bowed in supplication for something gentler than what his son can offer you, and he can’t help himself again. He wants to sink his teeth into that soft expanse of skin. You’re too pretty, pretty in all the ways a perfect thing can be, and Joel is a hard man, not a weak one, but he feels weak now. He feels brought to his knees, heavy stone of guilt weighing in his gut as he lays his palm on the back of your bared neck. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch, this doesn’t belong to you. He tightens his hand, grips the column, presses the calluses of his palm to the soft skin. “Look at me–” he gruffs, turns you by the pressure of his hand, a kitten gripped by the scruff and made to listen. “You deserve more than that shit.” That shit being his son, his blood. Joel is two feet tall and so ashamed he’s nauseous. But your eyes, they look up at him, tear filled and so lost, and he wants to show you how it should be. “You deserve more,” he says again. Later, he’ll tell himself he surely must have said the words out loud, asked for it with teeth and tongue. The blame can only be his, he provoked it, he soothed the wound, incited it, because you’re surging up and against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and throat and pressing your mouth to his, clumsy and tear stained and open so that the first thing he tastes is your breath on his tongue, then your tongue on his tongue, and then absolution tinged with shame, gross desire like desperation. He groans like a dying man, clutching at you immediately, unthinking, pulling you into himself, soft, full tits against hard chest so that he feels like he’s burning and dying and coming back to life all with the taste of your spit and tears in his mouth. He holds you steady, hand still clamped to the back of your neck and thinks that if he’s going to commit a sin he might as well take his fill. He eats at you. Head held in place, knees bent and arm banded around your waist to bring you level with each other, he pulls your head back, mouth open and tries to swallow you whole. And Joel doesn’t think of his son, not for a single second, while he kisses his daughter-in-law.

His lips slide to your throat, hunting for your pulse, tasting the tiny flutter, going weak at the knees at the whimpered sound you make, cock harder than it’s been in years, a noise like begging, like more. He sucks hard at that thrum, but your noises shift to frightened, protesting, fingers digging into his shoulders to warn him. He can’t leave marks, he can’t leave marks on something that belongs to another. His erection is an iron band down the leg of his jeans, and he has to force himself not to thrust the aching cock into the soft apex of your thighs, feel your warmth there. He has to stop, he has to– to what? To let you go back to a boy that mistreats you? Even if that boy is his son, it’s wrong, it goes against everything Joel is as a man. He presses his face into the blistering heat of your throat, a muttered fuck under the ledge of your little chin. A rattling shiver has started up in you, teeth chattering with the force of it, and he bands his arms around you tightly, pressing the air out of your lungs, hand smoothing up to twist in the back of your hair and force you entirely still. “Don’t,” his voice is so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it coming out of his own mouth, “Don’t be afraid.” The sound of his popping knees as he unbends to his full height, your weight still in his arms. He lets you go in increments, slowly so as not to jar you further, hands holding tight until the last moment when he forces them to unclench, let you go. “Don’t be afraid,” he says again. “You did nothing wrong. This was all me.” Your eyes are huge, but you’re not crying anymore, and that feels like victory to Joel, despite the rest, the only thing that matters.

You run from him after that, because of course you do. What’s the other option? That he’d keep you there in that dark restroom, from his son and your marriage and the world, forever? He clutches at his chest and is swallowed whole by his shame and his guilt, the terrible fear that he isn’t the sort of parent that can blindly see past their child’s faults, love them despite everything else, not the type of man who can keep himself from wanting something he shouldn’t, he hadn’t felt so when he’d kissed you with that sick desperation on his tongue. And once he hears the sound of a slamming car door, and Sam’s truck peeling out of the drive and speeding away, he takes out his hard cock and fucks his fist until the heat of his semen is sliding over his skin, a handful of pathetic strokes and the sound of your name almost like a sob in the dark.

-

You listen to the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor, and your head feels like it’s breaking water, seeing clearly for the first time in years. It’s a rich parquet, gleaming in the dim light of the street lamp glow. You wonder if he installed it himself, like the wallpaper, proof of the care and attention to detail in his home. You think you would like to be cared for as such also. There’s a soft green throw draped over the back of the chocolate leather couch, and you dig your fingers into it, twisting amidst the knitted weave as you turn to face him, and he has that look in his eyes again, the one from before. The one like too much, too much, the one like fear and want. Stopping just in front of you, the tips of his bare toes meet the front of your shoes, and he reaches to drag the pad of his thumb over the high slope of your cheekbone, the fine skin catching beneath his calluses. “You’re too beautiful,” he says, and you wish it sounded like an accusation, but it doesn't, and you want to tell him you don’t believe him, just to be difficult, just to be contrary, but you know he’s not the sort of man that lies. It only sounds like praise. His eyes are so dark in the shadow of the house, the green and brown and caramel striations gone away in the night, and he’s shifting his jaw, chewing on a thought before he spits it out. His other hand comes up to gently, so gently cup the other side of your face, and he holds you there, just so, angling you this way and that, appraising you, chewing, chewing slowly. “Too beautiful – I never even stood a chance,” he says more to himself than to you. This is a man that does things with intention. This is a man that sees you as a complexity, as something more. This is a man. “He told me something – last time we saw each other.” Your heart beats painfully in your chest, you can feel it in your eyes and ears and the backs of your knees.

“What’s that?”

“That the two of you were havin’ problems. In– in the bedroom. That–”

You try and jerk away, but he holds you trapped. “Stop. Please. Don’t–”

“Is that all this is? Older man – want me to teach you somethin’?”

Cradled as you are, you close your eyes, brow folding in a frown, unable to refute him with a shake for the way he’s captured you. You bring your own hand up to circle his thick wrist, fingers not meeting around it. He has hair here, your palm slides further down, hair here too. All man, man, man. No longer in the hands of a boy, and you’re touching him. Now you’re touching him too. “That very first time I met you– I wondered what you’d taste like. How heavy you’d be inside of me. If you’d be rough, leave marks, or gentle. You know I– I wanted– If he hadn’t been there, if–” Now he’s the one that begs you to stop. 

His hands on you are tighter now, almost strangling, squeezing a moan out of you. “Are you going to tell him?” His grip goes loose again, caressing. “ If we do this– are you going to use this against him? It’s yours to do with as you will, I just want to know beforehand. It won't change the way I have you tonight.”

“Only tonight?” Your voice sounding strange, hungry. 

His eyes move entirely around your face, taking you in, held as you are. His gaze is manic, fevered, but his words are slow, stacked one on top of the other for you. “No. No, I don’t think it’ll only be tonight.”

“I’m not going to use this against him.” For the first time in two years, what you’re doing, the decisions you’re making, have nothing to do with your ex-husband. This is only for you. Joel is only for you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he asks for the last time. 

“To be good,” you finally say, and the rough sound he makes, the flush you can faintly see crawling up the column of his throat, it has a painful knot of want tightening your cunt, the wet drip of slick pooling in your panties, all hot and bruised feeling on the inside. 

He lets his hands slide slowly from your face to hang loosely by his sides, and you take it as your invitation to touch him as you like now. He’s so much taller than you, your neck craning back to look up at his face. You start there, the crest of his cheek, the strong, curved nose, plush mouth that looks specifically made for kissing a cunt until it cries. He makes your thoughts feel savage, he makes you feel like something you’ve never been before. “You’re just a little girl, aren’t you?” He says softly. Your hands move down to his thick neck, and you try and cage him there, hands too small to circle him entirely, the insinuation of a strangling. Too small, too small, too small. You shake your head, mesmerized by the contradiction of your small fragility trying to capture all that strength held inside of him. You look up at his eyes, holding him around the throat as you are, and shake your head. You’re not. “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know. I want you to show me.” And that does something to him. You see the change come over him in that very moment, something chimeral in the change your words provoke. He’s made of nothing but vibrational restraint, giving you your moment of peace to explore him as you need to before he takes you for himself. You’re almost certain you can hear the sound of him grinding his molars to dust inside his mouth. And you want him to show you, it’s the truth. As wrong or whatever it is that it may be, it’s your truth. You’d always felt like you’d done being a woman the wrong way, a grating way, an unappealing way, but you didn’t want to be unappealing or wrong. You only wanted to be yourself. And worst of all, you’d been made to feel like that, over and over again, by the man who should have done nothing but the opposite. And you know it might be bad now, to want to be shown or that there was no right way, but still, but still, you want it. You would still like for someone, for Joel, to teach you how to be better, how to be good. Was that really so bad?

Your hands slide down to the thick muscles of his chest, thumbs dipping into the dents of his collarbones, lower to the soft of his belly, the edge of his jeans. The both of you are trembling now, you in lust, desperation, him in restraint maybe. There are beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you think so?”

He nods, but he’s cupping your elbows in his big hands anyway, pulling you towards him so that your breasts graze the top of his belly. “But we’re doin’ it anyway.” You go up on your tiptoes, hand cupping the sharp edge of his jaw to pull him down towards you, and he’s like a leashed wolf; heavy, hot breaths fanning across your face, and he slowly does as you bid, mint, mixed with something sharp like whiskey. He’s watching you so intently, watching to see what you’ll do with him, but your eyes are only on that soft wet mouth. You want his tongue inside of you, and that first press is so, so soft, barely there. A sound like dying, you can’t tell who it comes from, another soft brush, and you’re taking his top lip between both of yours, sucking on it lightly, hands snaking over his thick shoulders to bring yourself up closer so that he’s finally wrapping his arms around you, pressing you tightly to himself, belly to belly. He still hasn’t closed his eyes, he’s still watching you, and your heart is beating so fast and so hard and you want this so much that you’re sure he can feel it reverberating into his own chest cavity, spurring his own beating muscle on. You press another tiny kiss to his full, open mouth. “I’m scared,” you whisper onto his tongue, and he smoothes a staying hand down your spine, settling over the curve of your ass and squeezing there, holding you in his snare. He’s barely even touched you, and yet, you already know that no one else has ever been like this. 

“That’s alright. Got nothin’ to be scared of – I’m gonna be so gentle with you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” hint of an obstinate, provoking whine in your voice.

“But that’s what you are.” He changes the angle of his descent, and now he’s the one moving in for another tiny kiss. “Just a little baby.”

“And I don’t want it gentle.”

“You’ll take it how I say. How ‘bout that?” Another kiss, and now the taste of his tongue. You’d never forgotten it, the slick, hot slide of it, from that other time. He licks into you, takes away your ability to talk. In a single blink of an eye, less than a second’s thought, he’s taken all control from you, made the game his own, and now you’ve finally gotten what you’d come here for. Now you can finally say it out loud. He wraps a massive fist around the length of your hair and eats at your mouth, makes it his more than it’s ever been yours. All tongue and teeth and wet spit, the sound of his pleasure for you vibrating in your ears, and there is it, the pressure of his hard cock as he slides his hand lower, between your legs to feel the heat and damp of the pussy that’s wet only for him, pulls you further into himself. The heft of the bulge has you whining and squirming in his hold, clawing at his shoulders and the skin of his neck to climb up the length of him, get closer, get more. You want that cock, you want it inside of you, filling you with its weight and its come. You’ve wanted it from the first time you’d met him as his daughter-in-law, standing beside his son in the place of his wife. You’d wanted his cock more than you’d ever wanted his sons, and you’re only ashamed that you’re not ashamed at all. And he tastes that desperation on you, nips at your lip with a gruff settle, a little yank of your hair to tug your head back and unlatch his mouth from yours, sliding in a wet trail to your neck, settle, settle. He bites at the line of your throat, hard. Sucks even harder, leaves a mark, leaves a claim he wasn’t able to last time. The deeply rumbled sound that comes from him attests to his intention and your answering, whimpered mewl is nothing but a cry for more; I know, baby, I know, he whispers into your ear. His mouth moves down your chest, pulling the already stretched neck of your pullover wider to nuzzle at the deep groove of your cleavage. You want to ask him if he’s worried, guilty, if he’s wanted you for as long as you wanted him, if he was hard when you kissed him that night in his little wallpapered restroom, but then the heat of his mouth is clamping around your nipple and sucking, wetting the fabric of your top with his tongue, biting down at your breast, the sharp of his teeth clamping down around your sensitive flesh, nothing but your soft sleep bra beneath to protect you. You yank hard at his messy curls, trying to pull his punishing teeth away and pull yourself closer, all at the same time. His eyes flash up to yours, mouth latched at your breast, cheeks hollowing as he takes a hard, wet pull and there’s laughter in his gaze, hot and bright and infectious. “I’ll be gentle, but I’m not gonna be nice, baby.” He nuzzles into the wet spot left behind, presses another kiss, soft and conciliatory now over your throbbing nipple. “You want me to be nice? Want me to be nice to this little pussy?” He rubs the flat of his fingers over that desperate place between your legs as he turns to walk the two of you back towards the front of the sofa. There’s no response to be given, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He turns to sit, pulling you to remain standing between his spread thighs, hands wrapped around your hips. “Gotta use your words, pretty baby. I wanna hear what you want.”

“I want whatever you want. I want it however you want it,” you say through your flush and your shyness. You want to be honest, not a liar here in this moment with him. 

He lets his head fall forward to rest against your lower belly, nuzzles there, and you hear his whispered, Jesus, fuck, before he pulls back to look up at you, drags his palms down the back of your legs all the way to your ankles, nudging your shoes and socks off, and then sliding all the way back up, scratchy calluses making you shiver until he reaches the edge of your shorts and tucks the tips of his fingers there. “Take your shirt off,” he says gently, and you only pause for a second of timidity before you’re pulling it over your head, left only in your soft pink sleep bra not intended for the eyes of ex-father-in-law’s you’ve come to seduce. Your shyness flushes higher, burning your face, sprouting beads of embarrassed sweat at the nape of your neck. He untucks his fingers from the waistband of your shorts, smoothing his palms up the slopes of your curves, thumbs dragging up the plane of your belly, dipping into the dent of your navel to reach up and squeeze your breasts tight in his big hands, then pulls the straps down over your shoulders, the bra down over the curves of your breasts to leave them bare and heavy. And his eyes never leave yours as he gets you naked for himself, fingers sliding down your sides now to pull your shorts and panties and the scrunched bra down, the flush in his face deepening, heightening even though he’s yet to look at you. Don’t be scared, he whispers again, shaking his head a little when you wrap your arms around your breasts, trying to hide yourself away from him. When he’s taken your shorts from you, gripping each ankle to help you step out of their circle, he finally looks at you, takes in the entire bare expanse of your naked body, gently prying your arms from your breasts. “Lemme see, lemme see, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” He runs his hands all over you, the slope of your belly, lifts the weights of your tits in his palms to let them fall and sway heavily, down the outsides of your thighs and back up and around to squeeze the lush of your ass. He pulls you further towards him with that clutch on you and presses his nose into the apex of your thighs, nuzzles at the soft thatch of curls there, brings his thumb up to pet at it and breathes deep. “I like this – so pretty,” he tells you again. If it was possible for a person to die of shyness you surely would in this moment, but this was what you’d come here for, this was what you hadn’t been able to say out loud. He presses his nose there again, takes another deep breath, and then starts to mouth wetly, pressing soft kisses and then the wet of his tongue, licking and parting at your slick seam. He groans so deep it sends you to shivering, hands coming up to cover your face, to hide away from that sound of lust, the feral look in his eyes when he looks up at you with the taste of your cunt in his mouth. He starts to lap at you in earnest, closing his eyes in sheer enjoyment as he pets at your clit with his tongue, shifting his angle this way and that to get at you more deeply. He pulls one of your feet up onto the edge of the sofa to open you, and you’re jostled forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulder as he spreads and eats you. His hand on your ass shifts lower, searching for your opening from behind and starts to pet at you there too so that he’s coming at you from the front and the back, and it’s too much, his sucking mouth and probing fingers. Your standing leg buckles, and he’s forced to pull his mouth from you, steady you. You let your knees give out slowly, coming to a folded kneel between his legs. He leans forward, mouth glossy with your slick and pulls your face to his, chin pinched between his fingers to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue sets something off within you.

Suddenly, your shy insecurity doesn't really matter as much with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. You surge up on your knees, pressing closer to him, pulling him to you with your arms twisted around his neck, moaning into his mouth as you taste the sweet muskiness on his tongue. Like kindling catching fire in your veins you start to claw at him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, scratching at his skin. He half pulls you up and on top of him, your steaming hot form, entirely bare and naked on top of his clothed one. You can feel the heft of his cock against your belly, grinding there, trying to find whatever friction possible, and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, pushing you back down onto the floor and pulling back to open his jeans. He’s panting and sweating, chest heaving and cheeks flushed a bright red. He wants you just as much as you want him. And it’s bad, it’s bad and wrong to compare, God knows, but when he finally pulls his cock out, he’s not wearing anything beneath his jeans, you know that this is a man unlike your husband ever was; long and thick, fucking big, swollen, flushed tip peaking out from soft surrounding skin, leaking a clear slick of drool. He takes it out and sits back, pushing his hips forward to settle into his seat and stretches his long legs on either side of you. You listen to the sound of the scooting coffee table as he shoves it back with his foot. His cock arches obscenely from his open jeans, and you reach up slowly, a little intimidated, to circle it with your fingers delicately. “You’re so hard,” you whisper. 

He drags a gentle hand over the crown of your head, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail as he goes. “This is how much I want you. This is all you.” He circles his big hand around your much smaller one, squeezes his big cock tighter with both of your hands, and you flush with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. You can make a man hard, the proof is right here in front of you. 

He’s uncut, and that’s doubly intimidating. “I’ve never seen one like that,” he pulls your hand up slowly with his, squeezes and twists hard at the sticky wet tip. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he croons, looking down at you with a maniacal sort of glint in his eyes. “Just open your mouth,” he wraps his other hand around your jaw, “You don’t need to see it if it’s inside you,” wedges his fingers between your molars over the skin of your cheeks, prying your mouth open. You bend your head forward, tongue hanging out, and he taps the heavy weight of his cock there, jostles the wet tip slightly from side to side, the wet sticky sound of it has your pussy clenching around terrible emptiness. He slides his hand up your cheek, twists his fingers through your hair and directs you how he wants you, slides his cock further back on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him, give him your first real suck, tongue swirling gently around the fat head. Pulling back with a sharp hollowing of your cheeks, he squeezes his fist around yours almost painfully, and you press an open mouthed kiss at the spongey tip, gently tonguing the slit, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue like a little kitten. The sight of you licking his dick has him groaning, bearing the white line of his teeth at you. 

“You taste so good,” you say up at him with big wet eyes, “Like I always imagined you would.”

“Fuck–” he snarls, “Killin’ me,” and he’s jerking you up off the floor roughly, pulling your knees apart to settle you in a straddle on his lap, pressing you close with a hand on your ass so that the wet heat of your cunt is meeting the heat of his cock. The both of you groan like it hurts, like you’ve been waiting for this for longer than is right, and he pulls your mouth back to his, wet and messy, sucking on your tongue, gripping your hair so tightly, your eyes smart and water. You claw at his shirt, pulling it up, trying to get at his skin, and he pulls back suddenly, frustratedly ripping it over his head, and then coming back to your mouth, single minded in his dedication to having the taste of you on his tongue. You try and grind down on him, but he hitches you up higher so your breasts are level with his face. “This’ll be over ‘fore it’s even begun if we’re not careful,” he laughs as he settles you, cunt leaking against his stomach and turning the hair there sticky sweet with your slick, and slots his hand between your thighs, gives you something to rub yourself against while he kisses you. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the wettest little cunt,” he says between kisses, lips sliding down to suck at your neck, lifting your breast to his mouth to lick and bite at your swollen nipple. 

And past sense, past restraint, you beg: “I want your cock, please, I want it so badly.” 

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

You whine and beg that you are, you promise you are, but he only sucks at your tits harder, presses his hand harder between your thighs, and you can literally hear the wet squelch of your pussy as you ride his palm, your clit grinding against his belly on the forward slide as you work yourself up into a frenzy, wet whimpers and a pathetic little tear or two slipping out in your frustration to come. Need you nice and soft to take me, sweetheart, he murmurs into the tender skin beneath your chin, but he decides to be kind, crooking his finger just so that it brushes up against your clit, setting off a shivery little orgasm fluttering through your belly. He laughs softly, humoring the silly little thing wiggling around in his lap that’s so desperate to come, decides to be kinder halfway through your orgasm and starts to slowly press a single thick finger into your hungry, clenching hole. Shit, you hear his curse, while you moan and cry into his shoulder, mouthing and biting at the sun freckled golden skin there, gnawing on him like some rabid thing. And then he says, a little teasing: “Just from this, huh? Just from a little wiggling around on daddy’s lap?” sending a wash of agonized relief through you as he wedges a second one of those thick, thick fingers inside to stretch you further. It’s what you’d wanted to call him from the first moment. Just one more thing said out loud. You nod your head against his shoulder, a whine and a breath and daddy, daddy, daddy, as he stretches you; make that sound again, he begs and pets and coos at you, yes, yes, I could come from that sound alone, gives you all the patience you’d always needed. “Look at all this slick you’ve made to take my big cock in your little cunt, baby. What a good girl you are.” He twists his wrist, fucks space into you with his fingers, “You’re so fuckin’ tiny – how’re you gonna take me in this little thing, huh?” He bites down on your soft breast, encourages the sway of your hips with his fingers hooked inside of you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” presses a kiss to your forehead, scratchy beard against the sensitive skin there, gently stroking you into another orgasm around his fingers, petting at something raw and bruised feeling inside of you, sending you to tears. 

He pulls his fingers from you slowly once you’re done, leaving your body to tighten and gape around terrible emptiness, and you feel the wet smear of your come on your asscheek where he grips you, searches and pets your asshole to slick it with your wet. “You want daddy to fix you?” He says then, “Want me to make you all better? S’what you want, right?”

You nod slowly, sniffle, “Make me good,” you mumble into his neck. 

“But you’re already good,” and he takes away all your choices, the ability to argue or refute, “You’re already so good. A perfect, gorgeous girl.” Kindling in your veins, madness, something more desperate than anything else you’ve ever felt in your entire life, true hunger. Worse than your desire for your father to understand you, to love you, to not be angry, your fight to keep a husband that would have never stayed. You reach for his cock, trying to impale yourself on it blindly, shifting to press the hot, blunt head at your wet opening. He moans like a dying man, “Wait– wait, lemme get a condom.” He sounds like he’s begging. 

“No, please, now.”

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so eager to jump on my bare cock without a rubber or anything.” But it’s only because no one has ever touched you like this, and when he grips the thick root of his cock and notches it as your cunt, pushes inside slowly, you realize he’s doing it in a way that makes you understand the difference between the man and the boy. 

“I need to feel your skin,” you sound like you’re begging now too. Sighing in relief when he starts to stretch you, when it starts to hurt. It’s slow going, fitting the largeness of his body into your much smaller one. But his hands are steady and soothing as he works you down another inch, another, let’s you fuck yourself on his cock. Murmured praises and all of his desire for you and yeah, just like that, take daddy’s cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, holds you down, presses and grinds there, thick tip made fatter by his foreskin kissing your cervix. Finally, he pulls you back by the hair, and your father-in-law’s cock is inside of you. “Want you to look at me while I teach you how to fuck– how to take a cock,” because he knows, because he’s always known, had the gross ability to read you exactly as you are. He shifts his hips back, presses up, up, up, inside of you, and his eyes are so beautiful, and he teaches you how to take a cock, not a little girl now, only a woman. You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss his face, lick his tongue, nibble on his ears, feel him all over, he’s all over and everywhere, and it should maybe be humiliating, riding the cock that made the man that was your husband, it should feel wrong or something like a sin, but it only feels, instead, like it was made for you. Like this is where you should have been all along. Once you’ve adjusted, he grips your hips tight and harsh, makes your skin smart enough you know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers and pounds up into you, the slick slide of your cunt sucking him deeper, taking him as hard as he wants to give it to you, swollen and sensitive, squeezes your ass and grunts and moans and says, yeah, baby, bounce on this fat cock, like it’s the only thing you’d ever have to do for the rest of your life. You wish it was. And the sounds he makes, that’s what really makes you come again, what sets off your orgasm while you’re riding him – the desperate, rough sounds of a man fucking up into a tight, hot cunt that’s wet only for him. It coils in you so tight it hurts, it hurts, and then goes loose and fluttery, pussy flooding around his thrusting length. You can’t even moan, mouth hanging open, proably drooling a little, probably crying a little, nothing but hot air and wet and not a little girl anymore, only a woman, and he doesn’t gentle, fucks you harder, rougher, squeezes your ass and chases his own orgasm. His thrusts going sloppy and uneven, his moans turning to cracked whimpers. 

“I’m not on birth control… but– but my period’s soon,” you whisper into his ear, and he makes a noise not wholly human, going still for a moment, throbbing inside you, thinking, thinking of the risk, decides he doesn’t give a fuck by the murmured,  fuck it, I have to, and starts to move again, harder, hurting on every punch up against the mouth of your womb. I have to, is what he says, and that settles something inside of you. “Gonna come in this pretty, tight cunt. Gonna make it all mine.” You decide you don’t really give a fuck either. “Make daddy come. Squeeze down on daddy’s cock – yeah, just like that. You wanted to play at being the big girl? Now m’gonna treat you like one – gonna fuck you full, baby.” And you’re nothing but want and yes and please and thank you, daddy. And that first spurt, that hurts too, burns you, changes something inside of you that you know will never go back to the way it was before. You’ll want that hurt for the rest of your life, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, and it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but the heat of it spurs on another small orgasm of your own, jars you with the swell and throb of his cock, fills you till the come from your cunt is leaking down onto his slick balls and the leather beneath. And he holds you through the whole thing, stroking and squeezing and tasting, taking sips of your mouth, pressing his breath back into you, breathing life into you. No longer a ghoul in the night either. You feel him go soft and yet still heavy inside, a muted bruise against your womb, sighing frequently as you settle, little kittenish sounds that have his spent cock stirring lazily inside of you while you leak and leak and leak and go drowsy and then just on this side of fully asleep. 

“Are you okay?” You remember to ask in a small voice while his fingers play gently in the wet where you’re connected. 

He makes a soft sound, like he’s humoring you, like you’ve surprised him. “Course I’m okay,” presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When he shifts you off of him to stand, a protesting whine at the back of your throat, he shucks his jeans off with a soft grunt, finally as naked as you’ve been the whole time, and his cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with your cunt as you stare up at him while he looks down at you. Afraid for a brief uncertain second before he’s lifting you in his arms, and when he carries you to his bed after, you feel terribly like a child. Again that naivety, that hope, but it isn't a bad thing, here and now with him. Not something to be used against you, not a bruise or a wound or a lost limb, and you haven’t failed at being good because he’s already made you so. 

-

You’re pressed right up beneath his chin when he wakes up. Your soft, warm form all along his side, lush tits and the vulnerable slope of your belly against his skin, and it feels so intimate, entirely twined around him as you are. He brings his palm up to cup the small bowl of your skull, and in the hushed morning light, your mistake breathes life into the world. Joel has always been a hard man. Joel has always been a hard man, but never weak, and certainly, not good, per se, but never cruel. But there’s something like weakness, there’s something that should be like cruelty here, waking up with you bare, still leaking his spend in his bed, and Joel can’t tell if that weakness, that cruelty is his, born of him or of his own making, he only knows that it should be here, probably is here. It’s difficult to gauge the moral acumen of what he should or should not be feeling when he has you like this beside him. And most confusing of all, that it actually feels nothing like a mistake. Only like it was always meant to happen, and now it finally has. 

He’d come inside of you, worst of all, sense gone away in the night, couldn’t claim exemption from weakness now, filled you until you’d leaked down his balls, the woman who’d been the wife of his son, and he should feel guilty, he should feel disgusted with himself. A betrayer of his own child. But all he feels is that he needs it again. That he needs you again. That if he could, he’d keep you. 

Joel had never wanted children. The thought or desire had never really crossed his mind… and yet– You make a sweet little keening sound in your throat right before you open your eyes, and he feels the stretch and wiggle of your little toes against his shins, the flutter of your long lashes against the tip of his chin. “Good morning.” Soft hand coming up to cover his mouth, hold him in place while you wiggle and slither all over him. 

“How do you feel?” He’d expected you to be shy, regretful, nervous waking up, and to find you entirely not, to get to wake up to you like this, soft and warm and lovely in his bed smelling of his come and his sweat, smiling that pretty little smile; it’s the mightiest sort of victory. You drape yourself on top of him, all soft limbs and softer tits, and the heat of your cunt pressed against his belly as you nuzzle into his chest hair. You’re different now, compared to before, that exhaustion he’d sensed is closer to the surface now, more easily visible, as if your body’s been collecting it, pulling it from the depths of you, getting ready to finally expel it. But there’s a clarity about you now too, you’re tired, but you’re also more yourself. Or on your way there. So lovely it hurts, vulnerable and fragile but entirely yourself. Afraid too, he can tell, because it’s your right to be afraid, because it’s normal, because we’re all afraid sometimes. “Sore?” Another nuzzle, and then, settling on your cheek to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes that’d damned him from the very first moment. 

“Just a little.”

“You did so well last night,” he pets your hair slowly. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.” And oh, you like that. Blooming, the temperature in your body seeming to spike suddenly, suffusing all your limbs, radiating from your belly. Shifting and squirming on top of him. His half hard erection, trapped between the two of you, aching already, and you try and rub yourself all along its length, hitching a knee up by his hip to open yourself. He gives you a rough sound to settle, but you want something from him now, trying to rub your wet pussy all over him. If he was younger, a man of less control, he’d be fucking into you already and without thought. “It’s time for listening now, little girl.” He grips your hair tightly, tilting your face up to look at him, uncurls his fingers to cup the small bowl of your skull and hold you in place. “Sometimes people need time, sometimes they need us to be patient with them, wait for them. That’s what you needed, and there ain’t anything wrong with that. And you’re not gonna feel bad or less for getting there a little more slowly than others. Everything comes in its due time, and that’s okay.” You’re staring up at him, wide eyed, something like fear or panic, but you’re going to listen to him if it’s the last thing he does. He fists your hair again, gently forces your head into a nod. “Agree with me now. Say yes.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper very softly, pressing up to peck him lightly on the mouth. He catches you by the nape, a kitten picked up by the scruff, and holds you there, immediately turns the kiss wet and savage. You feel, so much, like you’re his, and this terrifies Joel. You aren’t his to keep, he knows this. He is not unaware of what’s happening here, of the consequences. He is not delusional about how this will end. But still, but still, you feel like his. 

You’re back to you’re squirming now, whines and pleading moans as you try and rub yourself against his cock, and he reaches down to cup you, gently fingering at your folds, feeling the havoc he’d wrought on your pussy last night. “You’re so swollen, baby. Can’t fuck you again so soon.”

“Please, daddy, please, please. I can take it, I promise.”

“Not gonna hurt my soft little cunt.” The start of another whine, but he cuts you off, gives you a staying look, cranes his neck to lick into your mouth. “I’m not.”

“I want you so badly. I want you to make me come.” Tiny kisses and kitten licks to his jaw and throat. There’s fire in his belly, cock throbbing something fierce. He grips beneath your knee, opens your leg and pulls back to slot his cock between your thighs, up against your slick, swollen cunt, then presses your thighs closed back together tightly. 

“Just like this – how ‘bout that?” He says as he starts to thrust up slowly against your pussy, trying to keep his movements gentle, careful not to hurt you. He runs his palms along the length of you, squeezes your tits and pinches and plucks at your swollen, sucked dark nipples. The signs of him are all over your body, and it makes him something like wild, infuses him with something like madness. Joel has never felt like this about any woman, ever. And to have it be you – to have this happen to him with you, there is something like weakness and like cruelty here. He needs to keep his head on straight. Remember what can and cannot be. He squeezes your ass tightly, digs his short-shorn fingernails into your soft cheeks, brings one hand up to get his fingertips spit slick, and then pulls your cheeks apart again to pet at your asshole. His gut goes tight and fire hot, he wants to fuck you here too. He wants all of you to be only his, his, fucking his. You hitch your hips in a desperate little arc as he presses gently on the tight ring of muscle, teasing you. “You like that?” He gruffs. “Want me to fill your little ass too, sweet girl?”

Yes, daddy, and he’s sure those must be the greatest words ever uttered to any man in all history. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he says while you sing and moan for him. “When I touch you like this,” he moves down to the wet mouth of your cunt, taps on it gently, “And like this,” further, a flutter at your clit while he fucks between your thighs, “And the way you cry when you come for me,” back up to press at your asshole again. “Will you do it for me again?” Christ, he’s going to end up taking you if he doesn’t stop, and he will not hurt you. With a rough sound of frustration, he flips the two of you over suddenly, laying you flat, kneeing your thighs open wide and spread for him. He shakes his head down at you, squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of your bare tits and messy hair and swollen lips, cock hungry blurry eyes, isn’t helping his restraint. “Gotta stop provokin’ me.”

“But it’s so fun, daddy,” you whine, arching to brush your breasts up against his chest. He lets his head fall, opens his mouth wide and takes the whole, heavy weight of your tit into his mouth, sucks hard, bites soft, switches to the other one, gives it the opposite. He pulls back then, going to his knees between your spread thighs and holds you open for inspection. Cunt all red and swollen and shiny with slick just for him. He’s sure if he pressed his fingers inside he’d be able to feel the slippery slide of his semen still. Another shake of his head, and he runs his palms down the soft of your thighs, cups the round of your knees in his palms. You jerk the right one back when he squeezes you there, and he fingers the sore spot, “What’s this from?” bends forward to press a soft kiss to the small hurt. 

“I was in a rush last night,” you say shyly. 

“Rush for what, silly girl? I was right here waitin’ for ya.” Your face does a little spasm at that, confused and vulnerable and then maybe even a little hurt, brow crumpling, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When they spring open again, they’re feverish, “Please, please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t–”

“Quit.” He pinches the inner slope of your thigh. “Not gonna convince me to hurt you.” You moan, frustrated and wanton, on the verge of tears, petulant and trying to twist away from him, but he traps you in place, stretches himself over you, propped up by one thick arm, and you drag your palms all down the length of his chest and belly. He squeezes your jaw with his other hand, pries you wide, “Open, lemme see.” He tilts your face this way and that, inspecting the wet gleam of your mouth, your little tongue and shiny, white teeth. 

“Wha’re y’lookin’ for?” You mumble with your jaw wedged open, eyes comically large. 

“Hmm, wonderin’ what it’d look like filled with my come,” he says with a laugh. He feels like a teenage boy, all the excitement of discovering sex with a woman for the first time. And it makes his stomach hurt a little bit, his heart pinch in fear. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, widening the angle, “You think my cock’ll fit in that little throat?” And you moan, eyes fluttering shut, writhing beneath him, begging for it, a garbled groan that sounds something like please, let’s find out. “Dunno… should we?” He let’s go of your face, goes back to his kneeling position between your legs, and finally gives his aching cock the relief of his fist squeezing tightly around it. He could come just from the sight of you, he’s sure, is just there on the edge already. He squeezes hard, almost painful at the root, sliding up dry, scratchy calluses catching at the soft skin around his head to make it hurt and sting, strangling the heat he feels pooling at the base of his spine and in his balls. He smiles at the memory of your wide, comically shocked eyes when you’d realized he was uncircumcised. I’ve never seen one like that before, and all he’d stupidly wanted to say was that you’d never see any other ever again. Ridiculous. 

He drags his thumb over the head of his cock, through the sticky drool of precum there, then reaches to pet through your slick soaked folds, parting you down the middle. You watch him with wide, wet eyes, as he pops his thumb into his mouth, humming around your combined tastes. “You wanna taste how good we are?” All you’re able to manage is an open mouthed nod. He leans forward and over you again, “Open,” he orders, and spits onto your waiting tongue, hand clamped around her jaw. “Close now – swallow. How’s that taste?” He asks when you obey so nicely. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw shifting from side to side as you savor the taste of your shared want for each other. 

“S’good. Want more.” You look back up at him, mouth open, and nothing in his whole life has been scarier than this. Not even a twenty something year old son, who should have been a man, but was still nothing but a child in such desperate need of his father, showing up on his doorstep one day out of the blue. There should be guilt in that Sam-shaped spot inside his chest, he’s sure of it, and maybe there is, maybe there’s a bitter ribbon of guilt threaded all the way through him, but it’s also entirely overpowered, overshadowed by the desire he feels for the little girl splayed out beneath him. He pulls back again, tries to temper the rising heat in his core, takes hold of his cock again and starts to slowly jack himself. “Finger that little pussy, lemme see. Be gentle with her.” But he grips your hand right as your fingertips are about to make contact with your glossy folds and brings them to his mouth, spit slicking them, there you go, before giving them back. You play in your wet, watching mesmerized as he slowly jerks himself off to the sight of you, circling your swollen clit, thrumming at it gentle, gentle, be soft with her, petting at the leaking mouth, winking at him, begging to be filled. He shifts closer, squeezing and twisting at his tip, pulling the skin back to make the bulbous dark head bulge. He wants it to hurt, he deserves for it to hurt. You watch the rough handling of himself like you’ve never seen anything like it before, head tilted on your neck so your cheek is squished against your shoulder to get a clear view of what he’s doing to himself. “You want it so bad,” he teases, and you nod, looking back up at his eyes. He shifts forward a little closer so that the backs of his knuckles are brushing up against your sex now, wet and sticky, and you let your fingers trail up his wrist, his forearm, while he quickens his pace, moves against you, over himself. You spread yourself a little wider, bringing your knees up higher to your chest, opening yourself for him, and he pulls his hips back a little, you want to come, he can see it in your eyes, you’re almost there, presses the tip to your wet clit, slides down the to the hungry mouth, circles, circles there, presses just a tiny bit. You’re nodding your head up at him, goading him on, please, please, just do it, please. “Not gonna,” he gruffs. “Not gonna convince me.”

“You’re so mean,” you cry, arching your hips, writhing, trying to find firmer pressure. 

“Didn’t I tell ya last night I wasn’t gonna be nice?” But he takes pity on you, presses the fat head just a little harder, gives you just the tip, grinding breathlessly against it, popping it in and out of your hot little cunt. “Better?” His whole body feels like one boiling vat of hot blood, sweaty and desperate, grunting, more animal than a man. “Gotta come just like this.” He quickens the jerk of his fist, bumping it into your clit on the slide forward, watches the stretch of your cunt taking just the first inch of him. He feels unhinged, thinks for one second of just fucking all the way in, hearing the sound of your cry as you take the hurt. He has to be able to do this all again, entirely, have you again the whole way “God, baby,” he groans, “You’re gonna let me fuck this tiny little pussy again, right? Tell me you’re going to let me fill it with my cock again?”

Please, please, daddy. Please. “Just do it now.” Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything like the sound of you begging for his cock, anything as pretty, ever. “I– I need to–”

“I know what you need, baby. Just let daddy put his come in you, and then I’ll take care of you.” He’s just there, one last harsh squeeze and twist, and there’s warmth flooding his cock and balls as he starts to come for you, covering the entirety of your sex with his white milky spend, groaning like he’s dying. He pulls his hand from his spent cock, smearing his semen into your skin, little begging whimpers of his name and daddy, please from your mouth, and he spreads your legs and lowers his mouth to your swollen sex, eats his own come out of your cunt, pressing two fingers inside, slow and gentle as he can, to give you something to bear down on. He laps softly at your clit, soothing the ache, eats you until you’re going tight as a fist, cunt sucking his fingers as deep as it can and gushing all over his face, slick pooling in his palm where he laps and slurps at it when he’s unlatched his mouth from your pulsing clit. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he tells you later, while he dresses you slowly, sits you on the bathroom counter and brushes your teeth for you with his own toothbrush and combs the knots and gnarls out of your hair. Holds your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand as he drags a warm washcloth over your sweaty face. 

“Don’t want you to stay away,” you say in a small voice as you paw at his chest, twisting his t-shirt in little grabby fingers, pulling him into the cradle of your hips with sharp heels at the small of his back; needy, needy, needy thing. And worst of all, a sick part of him, something bitter sitting heavily on his tongue, wants to be the thing you need, the thing you’re desperate for, the thing you cry those pretty tears for. He’s weak now, he is. Joel finds in himself that he does have the capacity to be a weak man when the moment demands it of him. He shucks the washcloth into the sink, cups your face in his hands like something precious. He’d said once you were a gift, he’s sure of this now more than ever. 

And he tells you, because he knows he must: “We can fuck, but we’re not allowed to fall in love,” and tells himself that he only imagines the glint of defiance in your eyes when he says it. 

- That meeting in the dark had stayed with you, the sound of his voice telling you to leave his son, that you deserved better. The sound of his kindness, you’d stretched toward it like a flower seeking the light, the singular attention of a man like that. You’d gone over the memory of it over and over again in your mind, worn the edges of it until it was faded and worn. And when Sam had served you the divorce papers, and you’d all but gotten on your knees and begged him to please, please, stay, please, don’t leave me alone, that sound of kindness had been what you’d clung to through all the rest. That terrible clamor of failure and abandonment and not good enough, his kindness had remained, and you’re sure now, that it had brought you here too, to his home, to his bed, into his arms. This was where you’d always been meant to end up, perhaps, even from that first moment you’d met Sam all those years ago on the college green, in the arms of his father. Nothing could feel wrong after kismet like that, even if you weren’t allowed to fall in love.

Part III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[wormdebut]

WALK HIM LIKE A DOG

@hellion-child you did this. Inspired by this legendary post.

‘It’s not illegal to go to the dog park, just to hear hot dads say Good Girl.’

Rating: M CW: overusage of the term daddy and Eddie just being a horny bastard.

——

“You know, this is fucking insane, right?” Chrissy laughs while Eddie lounges on the park bench.

Yes. He’s aware.

He and Chrissy don’t even have a dog and yet—

“Chris. Look at all of these great pet parents, taking care of these little doggies. Look at em. Wonderful. Stunning, very normal.”

Chrissy levels him with a glare. Being on the wrong side of a Chrissy glare is a scary thing, but alas his dog park visits are worth it.

“No. Look, listen. You’ve got all of these doggy daddies taking their lovely pups out for runs and walks and what not and then daddy wraps up his run and takes the precious ones to this here dog park. Woof.”

It really was worth it to Eddie, alright? There is nothing wrong with going to a public dog park to maybe hear a hot sweaty man coo at his dog.

‘Good Boy’

‘Precious Girl’

Bark bark bark or whatever.

Would Eddie ever talk to any of them? Absolutely the fuck not, but a man could dream.

He was bummed though because none of the hot guys were out, today.

Damn.

He is busy scanning the area to see if he missed anyone, Chrissy yapping on and on about how they could just get a dog when someone slows their run to chat.

“Hi!” She says. This woman is tall, short hair messed up from running, she’s got a bright ass orange jacket on, and she is most certainly Chrissy’s type. Thats not fucking fair at all, now is it?

Chrissy’s complaining tapers off. “Hey.”

They smile at each other, and this is truly unfair, Eddie thinks. This whole dog park thing was for him and yet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but me and my best friend just moved to the area and honestly, I think you’re pretty so—I just thought I would say hi.” She hardly makes eye contact with Eddie. So it’s clear who she’s talking to.

Like recognizes like, he supposes.

He can respect the straight forwardness of it all. Chrissy is just kinda staring at her so he speaks up. “Well, I’m Eddie and this is Chrissy, and I can confidently say that she also thinks you’re pretty.”

Both woman turn to stare and him, Chrissy with big eyes and the other woman with a smirk. She speaks, “Well, it must be my lucky day.” She turns back to Chrissy, “I’m Robin.”

The two get talking and Eddie is happy for his best friend, he really is, but where are all the hot men?

He’s about ready to call it quits when he sees a fucking god, running with a ridiculously stunning dog.

Hot people own hot dogs, he supposes.

This guy is—fuck. He’s sweaty from running, and his hair is fucking gorgeous, even after activities. Thats a green flag. Eddie is just shocked.

This is the dog daddy of all dog daddies. He’s wearing tiny fucking red shorts that expose thighs for days and—

“Jesus fuckin’—see?” Eddie doesn’t even care that he is interrupting the girls conversation cause this guys is—god damn. “He could slap a collar on me and walk me like a dog.”

Chrissy balks. “Eddie. We are in the company of a new friend. Robin doesn’t deserves this.”

Eddie simply shrugs and Robin laughs, “No. I think it’s hilarious which guy caught your eye?”

Oh, he likes Robin. “I like her. Get her number—“ He smiles big at Chrissy, before gesturing towards the fucking Adonis in tiny little running shorts. “Anywhozle. That one, look at him. On my knees in a second.”

He ignores Chrissy’s eye roll, and watches as Robin takes in the guy, before busting out in a laugh. “Oh my god—Steve?”

Oh shit.

“I—do you—“ Abort mission. Abort abort.

“Oh yeah, remember that best friend I was telling you guys about?”

She is still laughing, and Chrissy joins her before handing Robin her phone.

Eddie feels like he just got bamboozled.

“Chrissy, babe, I’ll text you. Eddie? I’ll see what I can do.” She smiles at them both before running over to ‘Steve’ and his—their?— gorgeous dog.

“No wait I—“ Eddie tries but she’s already over with Steve who is listening intently to what Robin has to say.

Oh god, oh no. Oh god.

Chrissy is just laughing softly into her hand, which turns into full laughter quick because Steve turns to look at them, smiles and winks.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 5: acorn

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

This is kind of flangst if you squint, but the idea came to my mind and I thought it would be really cute. One of my favorites, enjoy, and reblog if you liked it!

You and Spencer walked in silence, with only the sound of the orange leaves crunching under your feet. Autumn had undeniably arrived, and you knew perfectly well that this season was a blessing for many children, providing them with leaves on the ground to play with, warm clothes, and tons of candy. Somehow, it was also your favorite time of the year, as it brought back a few pleasant memories you guarded closely in your heart.

“How did he behave over the weekend?”

“Very well, actually,” he replied, happy that you had finally decided to break the silence. In the distance, you could hear the giggles of a child you both made sure to check on from time to time. “We made pancakes, I took him to the aquarium, we drew a lot, and overall, he didn’t throw any tantrums or anything like that. He even asked me to tuck him in.”

“He always wants that,” you said. “Sometimes he makes me read the books you give him.”

“And he asks me to sing him lullabies you taught him.”

You both fell silent again.

It wasn’t often that your ex-husband’s days off aligned with yours, and the truth was that you both only sought to see each other when strictly necessary. Many times, Jason spent weekends with his father, and when Spencer had the chance, he would take him to school and other activities.

As a father, you couldn’t complain about him. He tried his best after the divorce, as if wanting to make up for something, and you both made sure to keep arguments away from Jason’s ears because the last thing you wanted was for your son to suffer because of it.

It had been somewhat complicated explaining the dynamics of your post-divorce life to Jason, as he didn’t understand why his father, whom he loved so much, had to move to a new apartment. Spencer had tried to be as kind as possible when talking to his son, not wanting him to feel, even for a second, the abandonment Spencer himself had felt from his own father. He called him all the time, bought him an endless number of things, and made sure to have him with him whenever work allowed.

Work, work… that damned work.

“That’s just how he is,” you said simply.

A cold breeze filled the air, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets, just as your husband did. Once upon a time, you might have held hands to deal with the cold, but now that was unthinkable.

“He also told me he already has a costume for Halloween, right?”

“He wants to be Sherlock Holmes. It was between that and Albert Einstein, but he went with Sherlock because he said his job was similar to his daddy’s.”

Spencer let out a chuckle that was stifled in his throat and looked in the direction of the little boy who was hopping around in the leaves, already too dirty from the nature of the park.

“Do you need money to buy the costume? I could ask JJ where they sell some, or…”

“It’s okay, Reid. I’ll probably make it myself or ask my mom,” you murmured, shrugging. “But he wants you to take him trick-or-treating.”

“I’ll try. But you know with cases… it’s unpredictable.”

“Explain it to him, not me,” you muttered seriously.

Honestly, conversations between the two of you were almost always uncomfortable. Sometimes Spencer tried to find a normal or interesting topic for you, but you rarely carried the conversation forward. Other times, you wished you could ask him about things that really mattered—his mental state, his feelings, or simply what was happening in his life—but you had no idea how to go about it.

That’s why you both preferred to talk only about Jason.

“Look, Mommy!” your son suddenly shouted, throwing a bunch of leaves into the air and laughing when they fell on him.

“How nice, baby,” you responded with feigned excitement, somewhat relieved that your son was having fun.

You both stood there watching the little one, and you could feel your ex-husband’s gaze from the corner of your eye. So many years of knowing him, of loving him, had allowed you to detect when he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Sometimes, you still felt guilty for being able to read him so easily, and you had no doubt he felt the same, especially with that eidetic memory of his helping him.

“Jason talked to me about Christmas the other day,” he began, seemingly gathering the courage to speak. It had to be something important if he had taken the trouble to bring it up. “Has he mentioned anything to you about the presents he’ll ask Santa for?”

“Not yet, but he’s usually happy with whatever he gets. We can ask him later what he wants or tell him to write a letter for something specific, but I think some of the other gifts could be a chemistry set or art supplies; his teacher says he’s shown a lot of interest in both.”

“I see,” he murmured, nodding slightly. But he didn’t seem satisfied with your answer. “He said something interesting to me the other day. I just wanted to know if he had told you about it already.”

“Maybe if you tell me, I can answer,” you said without looking at him, trying to stay calm.

You had a suspicion of what your son had talked about, but you didn’t want to make a mistake. And Spencer felt exactly the same.

There was silence again for a few minutes, which felt like an eternity, and then he spoke:

“He told me this year he doesn’t want to ask Santa for anything because he wants to save his wish for something special,” he began. He paused for a moment and then continued, “I asked him what it was, and he didn’t want to tell me, so I suggested he could write a letter even though it was still early. He did, and after I put him to bed, I went to read it. There was a drawing and some words written in a messy but legible way. It said his only wish was for his mommy and daddy to be together again.”

By the middle of the conversation, you already knew what it was about. By the end, a few tears had welled up in your eyes.

“I know. He tells me that often,” you confessed, feeling a tightness in your chest. “And I never know what to say.”

“Have you thought about remarrying?” he suddenly asked. It was barely a murmur, but enough for you to turn to him in evident surprise. “I mean… with someone else. Or maybe having a boyfriend?”

“Jason takes up most of my time, and work takes up the rest. I don’t think there’s an opportunity to even consider it,” you said seriously. Since the divorce, neither of you had thought about the possibility of Jason having a stepfather or a stepmother. “What about you?”

“Never. I believe marriage is a pact you make only once in life.”

What was he trying to do? Was he criticizing you? Was he hinting that he saw the possibility of living together again?

“Well, that way Jason won’t be confused. At least until he grows up.”

“Don’t you think he needs a father figure?”

“What do you think you are then?”

“A permanent figure,” he clarified. “And a mother figure at the same time. We worry about ourselves, but we never thought about how this would affect him.”

“Of course I thought about it, Spencer. That’s why I asked for the divorce.”

Low blow. And a painful one.

“Listen, I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’m not trying to justify myself. But it’s been two years, and I think I’ve changed enough to prove to you that I’m not a bad father.”

“I don’t need proof of that. I know you’re not,” you said firmly. But when you spoke again, your words were harsher. “But I can’t trust that you’ll be a good husband.”

“I was before.”

“Yes, but then you ended up in prison. And you decided your work was worth more than your family.”

“That’s not true,” he exclaimed, clearly offended. “You and Jason have always been my priority, even now. I live only for you, and in return, you abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

“Spencer, stop blaming me. I had to choose between taking care of you or raising my son. Our son. So I sacrificed my marriage to make the best decision for him. We came second.”

“But divorce doesn’t have to be forever,” he insisted, stepping in front of you to make you look at him. “If you want, we don’t even have to sleep in the same bed. I just… I just want us to live together again. For Jason. I think he deserves to have a complete family because I know how hard it is not to have one, and I don’t want him to go through the same thing.”

You were finally talking more than you had in months. But to be honest, you wished it wasn’t happening. He took one of his hands out of his pocket and reached up to touch your cheek. You were freezing, and it became a fervent desire to lean into you and lose himself in your lips.

“Spencer, don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to think with a clear head. And you’re just clouding my judgment.”

“Why does it have to be a decision you make with a clear head?” he said, sounding hurt. “I’m not a stranger; we once loved each other. I still love you.”

His other hand came up to cup your face, and you placed your hands on his wrists, trying in vain to push him away. You didn’t have the strength, neither physically nor mentally, to do it.

“Spencer, nothing guarantees that getting back together will make us happy.”

“And nothing guarantees that it won’t,” he murmured, pleading. His fingers stroked you gently, and you felt yourself succumbing to temptation.

You were looking into his honey-colored eyes again, and you realized that was one of the things that hadn’t changed despite all the years; they still looked so sweet, so docile toward you. And suddenly, you felt as in love as the first time, and that terrified you. Loving meant the fear of getting hurt again.

You were about to say something when a shout caught your attention, making you think for a second that something had happened to your son. Luckily, it was just him trying to get your attention.

“Come play! Please!” he said politely, with that persuasive little voice he was already learning to use.

“We’re coming, my love.”

The conversation was interrupted by that activity, and although Jason asked why you were crying, you reassured him, blaming the cold in the park. As the minutes passed and you two began to follow your son’s lead, the mood lightened. You even reached a point where you were genuinely having fun, the three of you together, and it was undeniable that your little boy was brimming with happiness.

“A squirrel!” Jason suddenly shouted. He loved animals, so he didn’t hesitate to get closer.

“Careful, honey,” Spencer hurried, always the more fearful of the two of you. “It’s not a good idea to touch squirrels, even if they look cute. They’re wild animals and could bite or scratch you if they get scared. Plus, they can have bugs or diseases.”

“But I want to pet it! Can I, Mommy?”

“When Daddy says no, it’s a no.”

Your son pouted, pretending to be upset, but looking as cute as any 6-year-old. Your ex-husband tried to cheer him up by crouching down to his level.

“Better let’s observe what it’s doing. What do you think it’s looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, there. In its little hands.”

“An acorn!” he exclaimed happily. The squirrel was picking some off the ground and putting them in its mouth, filling its cheeks. “Why is it doing that?”

“It’s storing food for the winter. It buries them in a safe place, and then when the snow falls, it looks for them to eat.”

“There are more over there!” your son said, pointing with his little finger. “There are three. Do you think those are its mommy and daddy?”

“Maybe, son.”

“They’re like us, right?” he smiled.

You looked away from them because you didn’t want to meet Spencer’s eyes if he turned, and you only heard him laugh.

“Yes, maybe they are.”

Jason watched the animals for a few more minutes, and then he got distracted by a nearby hot chocolate stand. Spencer bought a cup for each of you, which felt wonderful. During the time you all sat on a bench to drink it, with Jason in the middle of both of you, you could sense the furtive glances Spencer gave you, and unwillingly, you did the same toward him.

Jason played for so long that the sky darkened, and he was completely exhausted. By the time you hugged him, ready to head home, he had already fallen fast asleep. And although his presence was evident in theory, you were once again effectively alone with your ex-husband as you approached the car.

He offered to drive to avoid waking your son, and then he opened the passenger door for you, where you settled in, trying to make Jason as comfortable as possible. Halfway through the drive to your apartment, there was an awkward silence that couldn’t even be avoided with music because Spencer had forgotten to fix the stereo.

You struggled to admit it but, to be honest, you hadn’t had such a bad time that afternoon. You were genuinely happy about the family moment you shared, and proof of that was how you clung to who you would always see as your baby, smiling as you watched him sleep so peacefully.

Spencer didn’t expect you to speak during a red light.

“We can meet up to spend Christmas together as a family. Stay in the same apartment, open presents together, and all that,” you said, not looking at him, trying to focus on anything else to avoid him “And it’s too soon to make such a drastic decision, Spencer, like going back to a practically married life. But we can think about it and decide after the new year.”

Despite your indifference, he knew you were being sincere and not just giving him false hope. And he also knew that he would work twice as hard to win back your trust, forgive your mistakes, and, with some luck, recover your love. You hoped you had the strength to forget what had happened and see Spencer for who he was now, not for who he had been.

“I’m glad you said that. And I agree,” was all he replied.

When you got home, you both made sure to leave your son comfortably asleep in bed, and as an extra favor and a show of commitment, you stayed a long time watching him sleep, as if trying to preserve that childish image forever. You didn’t say anything when Spencer wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and he pretended not to notice that you leaned into him, resting your head lightly against his chest.

All you could think was how you hoped time would be kind to you and allow you to eventually rekindle the love you once had and offer it to the beautiful child lying in front of you.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Zayne: Sugar Zaddy | 18+ Headcanons

So I didn't write this. You heard me right, this was not written by me. Instead my discord kitten, my lil meow meow, wrote it. Well...kinda. We were discussing something that happened earlier and she was like "Consider a Sugar Daddy though..." And then went off on Discord. She's too shy to actually post this herself, so she gave me permission to. The green text is my contributions on discord that she included in the doc. Small note: This is an 18+ post, however the first part is mainly SFW (except for one bullet in particular that warns with NSFW beforehand). The more raunchy ones are under the "NSFW" part. So again, this is 18+ but the first part isn't as bad.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Warnings: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Spanking, Begging, Possessive Behavior (Hot), Zaddy /ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ Pairings: Zayne x Reader

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

Daddy Zayne , to whom if you ask him to cut your food for you because you feel like having a butler or doing something so you won't get your hands or nails messy, would do it immediately - He would peel and cut an apple for you, feed you an orange, just doing everything for you if you ask.

Zaddy Zayne who, sometimes when you beg enough or have been behaving well enough, would let you show him off - But he might tease you while doing so.

Zaddy who would feel bad if he picked out the wrong gift for you, because he's like, "Nah, my Jimmy Neutron brain really thought this was a good idea?"

Zaddy who grips your thighs when sitting together, even at restaurants.

Zaddy , as usual, Zayne doesn't like risk like public.

Clothing wise, would he let you dress him up to match with you? We’re not talking about him dressing us up because DUH, IT'S Zaddy . It depends on what you’d be wearing to be honest. If it’s something too flashy, then no, but if it’s something classy, he would definitely match with you. Not to mention that means when you’re out in public, if for some ungodly reason you leave his side and someone tries flirting with you, he just walks up next and you can just TELL y’all are together with your outfits.

It depends on what you’d be wearing tbh. If it’s something too flashy then no, but if it’s something classy? He would definitely match with you. Not to mention that means when you’re out in public, if for some ungodly reason you leave his side and someone tries flirting with you, he just walks up next and you can just TELL y’all are together with your outfits

Zaddy who, when someone mocks you, just pulls you closer subtly showing off. If you seem upset, he buys you double the things he usually buys for you.

Zaddy who uses his busy schedule against you and in your favor. Sure, he may take off some activities to spend time with you, pampering you, but he also uses it against you when you're most needy, suddenly taking over Dr. Grayson's next surgery just because he is a "kind soul." This man likes and loves hearing you beg, and it gets worse if you try to backfire it on him. Trying to make him jealous or sending him a naughty picture will just make him take even longer, but not enough to make you cry of frustration or simply just get turned off, just the right amount because after all, he knows you like the back of his hand and knows how to keep his pretty princess behaved and happy.

Zaddy who would give you another copy of his credit card.

You wanna live in another place? Sure, as long as it's not too far from him

Moving into the apartment under his.

NSFW: You wanna travel? Gotta squirt five times to make him consider it and make up for lost time…time which will also be taken back when you come back.

Zaddy who buys you a present wherever he goes out, going out of his way to buy something for you after surgery before going back to the airport.

Zayne who dislikes you talking back.

Zaddy who cooks for you.

Zaddy who (this is more based on me, I dunno you) pampers you triple when you bake for him.

Zaddy who, if you practice any kind of sport, isn't the kind of pervert to just watch to get off, but maybe occasionally, depending on the mood, if you're doing yoga in such a position, will not need to bend you down since you already do it for him.

Zaddy who occasionally starts the act if you say you're not in the mood, will give you tons of kisses just so you don't feel bad.

Zaddy who loves when, during shopping sprees, you make a quick stop by the pastry shop for a sugary treat or ice cream.

Zaddy who is the silent jealous type but is a gentleman and would not take it out on you.

Zaddy who thinks it's just established how your relationship with him works and if you ever doubt it, he will make you learn it word by word.

And if you say, "Heck nah, get away," he will understand your wish and get away.

Zaddy who has nurses and girls after him, and he gives them the cold treatment.

Zaddy who, depending on his mood, sticks to you, gives you the side eye if it's a dumb jealousy, makes you suck it up or indirectly humiliates the other person.

Now, would Zaddy brag about you? Like comparing you with others (you on top, of course, you're his pretty princess). He knows you're the best so he doesn't need to brag or compare. He may compare to make you feel better if you're sad though. It's literally the phrase, "if you need to talk about power then you don't have it." I think dating Zayne would be 90% of your relationship, married life comes later, after all, he's just like your husband the day he started pampering you.

Zayne who, when he has a crush on you, gives you mixed gifts, some little cheap things and some very expensive, to see your reactions and study your reactions to win your heart.

Zaddy wouldn't let his money do all the work though; this man will rizz you up HARD.

Zaddy who does his skincare with you ��.

Zaddy who, if you ask him to or if you're tired, will do your skincare for you.

Zaddy who cuddles you the first night even if he did or didn't rail you before sleep.

Zaddy who, if you're a gamer ass, as long as you keep him happy, will buy you the best PC or consoles.

Zaddy who isn't interested in video games but if it's a cozy one and you ask him to play, he will and will surprise you with little things in the game.

NSFW

Sugar daddy Zayne who gives you sweet kisses when you cry while he's pounding you ❤️ - Telling you how good you are for being able to take him. Telling you how it’s fine if you can’t walk tomorrow, he’ll carry you wherever you need to go.

Zaddy with both cock warming kink and breeding kink.

Zaddy who wants to beg for you to try and come back and tried just one time against his ego to get you back with gifts, and if it works, he's going to hold himself back until you finally have sex with him starting it.

Zaddy who, if you catch him not in the mood, will keep it in mind later to give you what you need and make up for it.

Zaddy who, duh, loves edging you; it's Zayne .

Zaddy who, if he's desperate, would have masturbating sessions with you over the phone.

Zaddy who has a secret folder on his phone for your intimate photos.

Zaddy who, of course, loves seeing you in lingerie.

Zaddy , the panty stealer, when work hits too hard.

Zaddy , the mother who nudges you to go out by going shopping if you've been in too long and fucks you to keep you inside if you've been out too much.

Zaddy who would tie your hands and have you sit on his face while he eats you out *

This guy has all the cake he ever needs so he doesn't need yours for anything other than spanking..

Zaddy who, if you spanked his butt like in the bongo headcanons, would, depending on his mood, have you lay down on your lap and slap your ass or would just give you the side eye and retrieve the gift he was going to give you, making you beg for it. And if you're masochistic, make you beg (optional, depends on horniness).

Zaddy who seems to be the most horny one but in reality is not. Zaddy , that has you start reaching for his cock.

Zaddy who reeducates your bad habits by edging you or making you cum twice the amount you messed up.

So there it is! All written out and lovely! Thanks again to my dear friend who just went feral over this idea. She gave me permission to let y'all know who she is so it's @nati-cutie-patootie she did such a good job, ya? I think she did.

[dilfl0v3rss]

annoying things they do

𝑜𝑛𝑦

- doesn’t let you sleep in unless he’s sleeping in too. like this nigga would literally wake you up at eight am. durag, plaid pajama pants, and hoodie on. with his keys jingling in his hands on some, “ma get up we going to the store.”

- goes through a bottle of juice in less than two days. you literally have to buy him his own minute made and orange juice because if the two of you share it’ll be gone so quick.

- steals a lot of words and phrases from you, and they’re either used so wrong that you laugh or so right that you’d have no choice but to stand in shock. like he’d come home from the barbershop and go up to you like, “like my cut ma? it’s eating rightttt?” and you’d just be standing there like how do you know how to use that?

- this man is greedy. like all of them are greedy, but ony is a different type of greedy. he would never eat your food without permission, but let you open up a bag of chips around him. the next thing you gon see is his big ass hand in your face on some, “lemme get one” or if you eating a burger or a slice of pizza and he see you enjoying it. he’s in your face immediately. “lemme get a bite ma. shit look mad good.”

- smacks your ass so damn hard. like when y’all are having sex it’s not really an issue, but why is he sending you flying at eleven in the morning while you’re making eggs.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- says the dirtiest shit in your ear and just walks away after. he doesn’t care where y’all are either. you could be walking through the baby section of walmart just because it’s the fastest route to where you needed to go and he’d come up behind you, making you stop in your tracks as he put his hand on top of where yours were gripping the cart, dick print all on your ass while he whispers in your ear. “keep screaming ‘nut in me daddy’ while i’m fucking you and soon you gon be buying shit from here”. you didn’t even get to reply because once you moved to turn around he backed up from you and kept walking.

- always wants to finger you while he’s driving. especially if you have a sundress onnnn. he don’t care how long or short the drive is, you’re going to cum before y’all get to the destination. and it be so random because he asks so plainly like “ma pull your dress up. wanna play wit her”. not even looking away from the road. you’d try to talk him out of if, but ony doesn’t care. “ion care if we five minutes away. i could make you cum in two.”

- will fuck you literally anywhere. if you tease him you have about ten minutes to fix it or he’s going to fix it himself. which means taking you literally anywhere so he can get what he wants. sometimes you don’t even have to tease him. all it really takes is a pretty outfit and some nice perfume and he’s on you. he’s fucked you in fitting rooms, club bathrooms, party bathrooms, his old bedroom at his moms house, and the list goes onnn. if you looking good he’s on that ass.

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒

- heavy sleeper like it’s ridiculous. the first few minutes of him sleeping he’ll probably wake up if he hears something, but once he’s been sleep past an hour there is no waking that man up.

- literally bites you. if you point in his face he’s going to try to bite your finger. if y’all are play fighting and he gets on top of you he’s going to try to bite your neck. when y’all are chilling and he’s laying on your ass he’s going to eventually bite it. he has a serious problem.

- mocks your moans or plays your tapes out loud around the house if he feels that you’re “playing” with him. so if y’all are going back and forth don’t even bring up anything about his dick because he will use your moans against you.

“that’s not what you was saying last night. what happened to, ‘oh my god papi your dick so biggg’ and ‘please daddy i wanna have your baby’?”

or if y’all just got done arguing and you decide to just walk away and start cleaning (i clean when i’m mad). you’d be washing the dishes and out of nowhere just start hearing pornographic slaps and moans being played on the house speaker.

“daddy pleasee m’so sorryyy.*slap slap slap slap* you sorry ma? *slap slap slap* y-e-sssss fuckkkk.”

you’d sprint from the kitchen to the living room where connie was sitting, just sitting there rolling up like the whole house doesn’t sound like a scene off of pornhub. you’d try to snatch the phone from him, but he’d move his hand and get up. putting the phone high in the air so you can’t reach. “connie you bet-”

“say you sorry and i’ll turn it off”

- sometimes he’ll purposely not kiss you back when you kiss him. just letting you move your lips on his while he keeps his in a straight line to piss you off.

- just starts randomly acting like you. like you could be getting something from the fridge and he’ll walk up to you, chest full of tattoos, sweats sagging on his waist, holding up his phone. “girllll you really ate the girls up wit your new ig post. the fit is giving rich gyalll.”

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- eats you out for sooooo long. like he doesn’t care if you are screaming crying or passed the hell out. only when he feels like he’s done will he stop. if you try to stop him he’ll just say “it’s not about you mami. this for me” and then continue to remove your soul from your body.

- will purposely hit the wrong spots inside you when you piss him off. they aren’t particularly bad spots, but he knows you’ll never cum from him hitting them. of course you’ll complain about it because you know he’s doing it on purpose. “con s-stop ittt!” but of course he just has something smart to say back to you. “stop playin in my face and maybe i’ll hit it right.”

- another one that’ll fuck you anywhere, but he’s worse with it. he’s fucked you on the side of the road one night. passenger door open with you bent over the seat while he fucked you from outside of the car. he gives no fucks.

- is always breaking something. you tried to cuff him one time while you gave him head. he broke the cuffs…and it didn’t stop there. he’s broken two headboards, one of your nails, your glasses, and almost all of your waist beads while fucking you.

𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛

- if you piss him off before going to bed he’s going to take your bonnet right tf off while you asleep. then will proceed to laugh at you in the morning while your yelling cursing about your hair being fucked up.

- randomly starts yelling song lyrics. like y’all could be sitting on the couch and your bones would literally shake in your body cause he thought it would be okay to yell pop smoke lyrics out of nowhere.

-bends you over and starts acting like he’s fucking you. like if you’re making a tiktok while he walks in the room he will literally push you down by the back of your neck and start “drilling” your shit in the camera.

- wakes you up just to make you do stupid shit. you would be sleeping like a baby just to be shook up by his big ass hands on your shoulders. you’d wake up in a panic and he’d go “mama. mama look! the obama’s need our help we gotta get the men in black and shoot the aliens cmon!” and of course your confused ass is gon get up, taking the broom he handed to you and going into the living room to “fight”. when you realize what he said and turned towards him, he was already well into laughter. watching you mumble curses under your breath before walking back to your room.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- if you’re the one coming to him for sex he’s going to make you work for it. he loves when you take the initiative, getting on top of him and taking what you need. it was the sexiest thing in the world so now if you want it you have to come get it. if you try to whine about it he’ll just tell you, “s’your dick mama. if you really wanted it you would take what you need instead of just having daddy fuck you silly all the time.”

- teases you soooo much. whether it be standing real close behind you, staring at you with that sexy look on his face or just straight up choking you, tonguing you down, then walking tf away. aran lovessss to tease you.

- if he sees you getting a little too “friendly” with a guy he will make you call them while he’s fucking you. purposely hitting all of your favorite spots so a moan or two can slip just so they can know that you will always be his. he’ll also make it very known that he’s the one fucking you.

“uhh huh. ask em how his day was mama” he’d say in a breathless tone. loving the way your ass bounced off his lower stomach. “h-how was your day?” your friend wouldn’t know whether to be horrified or turned on at the situation. clearly the latter since he began to palm himself through his pants on the other end of the phone.

if they choose to stay friends with you that’s fine because aran knows that every time they see you they’ll think of him.

- sometimes will make you watch him eat you out, knowing that it always made you cum faster when you’d watch him slowly let his spit drip from his mouth to your clit.

𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑎

- sucks a massaging feet. one minute he’s rubbing and squeezing the tension from them, then the next minute he’s trying to put them in his mouth or he’s putting them in the chokehold while tickling the fuck out of them.

- do not let this man buy you a pair of sneakers. he will watch you like a hawk, just itching for you to do something wrong so he can cay something.

“mama don’t walk like thatttt. you gon crease themmm”

“baby pay attention where you walkin. could’ve been stepping in shit like five times and you wouldn’t know a thing.”

tanaka has so many different sneakers and treats them like babies so when he buys you a pair you need to treat them that way as well or it physically pains him.

- bumps his head all the timeeee. you have to watch this man around the house or the next thing you know you gon be hearing “OWW…shit that hurt!” cause he bumped his head on the corner of the kitchen island while picking something up.

𝑛𝑠𝑓𝑤

- always eats you out before and after sex. doesn’t care if you shaking and pushing his head away because your “too sensitive”, after he gets done fucking you he’s going to eat you out. whether he nut in you or not

- purposely fucks you harder when he knows people can hear. loves the embarrassed/shy face you make while getting dressed after he’s finished knocking the mario coins out of your pussy in your grandmas bathroom at your family barbecue.

- if y’all fuck after arguing he makes you repeat everything you said while you were mad while he’s pounding you into the mattress.

“say it ma. repeat what you said t’me”

“y-you not the o-only n-nigga i need shittt”

“now is that true?”

“nuh uhhhh. s’not true daddy”

“then if i hear it again ima fuck you even harder cause not only are you being disrespectful, but you lying too”

- will fuck you like the meanest nigga on earth. i’m talking slapping your ass so hard you actually seen hints of red in your skin, spitting all in your mouth, choking you while giving you light slaps on the face to keep you from passing out, then will have the audacity to go hop on the game all giddy and happy like you weren’t still on the bed trying to remember your name and who you were.

[corroded-hellfire]

Good Girl - Eddie Munson x Reader

Collaboration with the amazing and wonderful @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: When Eddie reminds you to take your antidepressants, little does he know that he’s stumbling onto one of your favorite kinks.

Note: This is a reminder to take your medicine if you haven’t today. Make Eddie proud.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), praise kink, corruption kink, allusion to daddy kink, prescribed use of antidepressants

Words: 2.7k

“You’re seriously trying to tell me that Steven Tyler is better than James Hetfield?” Eddie gawks at you with a disbelieving shake of his head, turning off your Aerosmith cassette in protest. 

“I didn’t say that; I said that he has a wider vocal range. Which is factual,” you retort, snapping the tape back in place and cranking up the volume. 

But Eddie’s not buying it; he paces around your room and mumbles under his breath dramatically. Spotting the bright orange bottle on your dresser, he snatches it up and shakes it. “I thought these things were supposed to make your brain work better,” he teases. “Are you sure you took them today?”

It’s meant as a lighthearted joke, but his smile falters when he sees your gaze drop from where he’s putting on his little one-man show. “You did take your bye-bye sad pills today, right?”

You roll your eyes and grab the bottle from his grasp. “They’re called antidepressants,” you grumble, making no effort to hide your annoyance, “and, no; I didn’t.”

“I think my name for them makes them a little more fun,” he says as he flops onto your bed. “But why didn’t you take them?”

There’s no sense hiding anything from Eddie; he’s been your best friend for far too long and can see right through you. “I’m tired of having to rely on medication to be less sad,” you admit. “It’s, well, it’s fucking depressing.” The irony isn’t lost on you.  

Eddie sighs and lifts himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You know, people need medicine in order for their blood pressure to remain stable. Them not wanting to take the meds isn’t going to do anything except have their blood pressure levels either plummet or go through the roof.”

Tilting your head at Eddie, you shoot him an unamused glare. “My blood pressure is fine.”

“Fine,” Eddie says as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “Go tell Wayne to stop taking his blood pressure medication because he should rely on his heart the way it is. We’ll see what happens.”

The daggers you’re shooting at Eddie only get sharper because both of you know that you can’t come up with a retort for that. When you don’t soften, not even a bit, Eddie groans and drops his head back. 

“C’mon,” he whines. “Be a good girl and take your pills.”

All of the muscles in your body seem to lock as one at the term. Heat begins to crawl its way up your body and you can only pray that it doesn’t appear on your face. 

“W-What did you just say?”

“I said,” Eddie starts, as if being annoyed he has to repeat himself, “be a good girl and—oh. Christ, does that…?”

“Shut up,” you snap with far more venom than you intended. “Give me my meds and forget it, okay?”

Eddie’s looking at you like the cat who ate the canary. The smirk on his face is becoming more self-satisfied by the second. “Oh, absolutely not, sweetheart. I just found out that my best friend in the whole world has been hiding her secret kink from me.”

“I said, drop it.” You clench your fists in a feeble attempt to ward off the humiliation. “We’re not fucking, so it’s none of your business what any of my secret kinks are.”

“Kinks? As in more than one? Oh, do go on.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, but it fades when he sees your eyes welling up with the beginnings of tears. “Look, you don’t have to be embarrassed. We all have things that turn us on. Even pure, chaste, little ol’ me.”

Now that makes you laugh. “Okay, Mr. Celibacy over here…tell me one of yours. It’s only fair.”

“I think it would just have you clutching your pearls, Miss Good Girl.” He winces when you give his ankle a playful kick, but he obliges. “Fine, fine.” He puts his hands up in surrender. “I like the idea of corrupting a girl. Sweet thing getting ruined by a freak like me.”

“You don’t get enough of that shit talk from the meatheads at school?” Idiots like Jason Carver seem to have a never-ending list of insulting nicknames for him, with Freak being their go-to. 

Eddie shakes his head, frizzy brown curls brushing against his cheeks. “No, this is different. I don’t want to be called a freak. I just think the idea of a nice, innocent girl wanting me to corrupt her is hot.”

“Like…a good girl?” You’re trying to replicate his teasing tone from earlier, but it comes out more salacious. You bite your tongue, though the words have already escaped your lips. 

Eddie just chuckles, somehow oblivious to your gaffe. “All right, well played. Laugh it up so we can call it even.”

You unscrew the cap of the bottle and take a pill, washing it down with the water you keep next to your bed. “But, Eds, I took my medicine! See?” You stick out your tongue with an exaggerated aaahh. “Just like a good girl.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow; he’s not sure how to interpret the situation. To be honest, neither do you. “Don’t play this game with me,” he says, suddenly serious. “Because you get to forget all about this, while I’m stuck with blue balls for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

He nods. “Plenty of experience.” He rubs his sweaty palm along his denim-clad thigh, his eyes never leaving your body. 

“Lucky for you, good girls don’t let their best friend walk around with blue balls, do they?” This is it. It’s now or never. You walk over to the bed and straddle his waist, pressing your hands to his chest. His heart is beating a mile a minute. 

Any semblance of self-control is gone as Eddie hisses, “They certainly fuckin’ don’t.” His lips crash against yours in a hungrily, sloppy kiss. His palms are on either side of your face as he holds you impossibly close. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s grinding up against you, creating a delicious friction between your thighs.  

Eddie wraps a strong arm around your waist and lowers you down to the mattress. Lips never leaving yours, his hands slip up the inside of your shirt, his rough calloused fingers causing goosebumps to break out along your skin. When you’re forced to break apart for air, you take the opportunity to yank your shirt off over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor. Eddie copies your motions, so when he leans back in this time, your bra is the only material between your two chests. 

“So pretty,” Eddie mumbles as his kisses move down to your jaw. One of his hands comes up to cup your breast through your black cotton bra. “Such a good girl for me.”

His words have you whining and arching your back. It forces your chest even more into Eddie’s hand, which has him smirking as he runs his nose up to your ear. He places a soft kiss there before reaching down for the button of your jeans.

“You really do like it when I call you that, huh? Tell me, baby, did you ever think about me calling you that before? Lay here at night with your hand between your legs, picturing me calling you my good little girl?”

An almost pornographic moan slips from your lips as he speaks, and you’re barely able to concentrate on lifting your hips up enough for him to pull your jeans and panties off. 

“Wanna be your good girl,” you mumble, face heating up at the admission. “Just f’you.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Eddie coos, leaning to capture your lips in another soft, slow kiss. Your hands slide down his pale chest until they rest on the handcuff buckle belt that you’ve stared at so many times, always wondering what it would be like to take it off of him. 

“Pants off, Eds,” you say.

“Excuse me?” he says against your mouth. “What was that?”

A small whine tumbles from your lips before you squeak out, “Pants off, please, Eddie.”

“Much better,” Eddie says with a wicked grin. “That’s how good girls get what they want. Take your bra off, baby. I want to see all of you.”

Reaching behind your back to unhook the garment, your eyes never leave Eddie’s form as he strips himself of his jeans and boxers. All the times you’d imagined Eddie naked in your bed…they didn’t do the real thing justice. He’s long and wider than you expected, and even more mouthwatering than you could’ve hoped for. 

“Staring, huh?” Eddie says and you can hear the smirk in his voice before you even look up to see it confirmed on his face. “I’m flattered, sweetheart.”

“‘S bigger than I imagined,” you admit shyly. “Need—I mean, can you please use your fingers first?” 

Eddie nods, running his pointer and middle fingers through your wet folds before pushing them inside you. “Aw, y’already soaked for me, baby? Barely even touched you.” He continues fingering you as he nips at your earlobe. “Y’sure you’ll be able to take my cock, pretty girl?”

The nicknames have your head spinning. “Y-yes, sir,” you choke out, whimpering when he stops moving his thick digits. 

“Well, shit,” he says with a small chuckle. “Looks like you’ve unlocked a kink I didn’t even know I had.” He looks deep into your eyes as he orders, “call me ‘sir’ again.”

“Yes, sir,” you manage, feeling his thumb making slow circles over your clit. “Anything f’you. I’m a good girl f’you, sir.”

Eddie growls as he slides down so his nose is level with your sex. “Not a good girl. You’re my good girl.” 

“Your good girl. Only yours, fuck!” You yelp loudly as he starts sucking on your swollen bud, simultaneously fucking you with his fingers. Your legs tremble, which he takes as a sign to lap at your pussy with more vigor. “R-right there, sir. Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop, sir.” You sound pathetic, but it’s working for both of you. 

You feel the pressure mounting in your core as your orgasm washes over you. “I’m cumming, holy fucking shit, I’m fucking cumming—” But just as the coil begins to snap, he pulls away from you, chin shiny with your slick. 

“What the fuck?”

“Ah ah,” Eddie chides. “Good girls wait so we can cum together.” He spits on his hard cock, fucking into his fist a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. “Y’okay?” he asks, pushing the tip in only after you give him a resounding yes. The feeling of him inside you is one of ecstasy, and you wrap your legs around his to pull him impossibly closer. No one has ever filled you the way he has; no one has ever stretched you so deliciously. 

“Eddie,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. His hands grip your hips as he buries himself within your walls. “I-I mean, sir, y’feel…fuck…feel s’good.”

“Me?” Eddie laughs incredulously as he continues thrusting into you. “No, baby. Nothing compares to how good you fuckin’ feel. Nice an’ tight, aren’t you, angel?”

The new nickname sends shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you bite your lip as you squeak out an agreement. 

“Tell me, my sweet girl,” Eddie growls, cock twitching within you, “what would your friends think if they knew the freak was balls deep in your pussy right now?”

You can only moan in response, and Eddie beams at your apparent wordlessness. 

“Fucked the words right out of you? Cute little head of yours can only think about my cock, hm?”

“Feels…feels…” You wrack your brain for any descriptors for the waves rippling through your body, but you come up empty-handed; rather, empty-headed. 

Eddie’s all-too amused by this, pistoning his hips as he beckons, “Come on; good girls use their words. How’s it feel, baby?”

“So good, Eds. Y’make me feel so good.” It’s barely two sentences, but it placates him. 

“Aw, you like the way my cock makes you feel?” A sneer crosses his face. “Like when the freak’s cock splits you open? How about when I do this?”

Before you can register his words, he’s bringing his thumb to your already overstimulated clit and rubs it while fucking you. “I know you like that, angel. Can feel you getting tighter around me. Fuck, anyone make you feel this good before?”

“N-No, just you,” you manage, another wanton moan escaping your lips. 

“Good girl, using her words f’me.” Your pussy clenches at the praise, spurring Eddie on further. “Just wanna wreck you. No one else can have you but me.”

“Only yours,” you slur in your cock drunk state. Every nerve in your body feels alive as Eddie pounds into you. Your eyes flutter closed so when Eddie leans down and flicks his tongue over one of your nipples, it surprises you. “Oh!”

“Can’t forget about these gorgeous tits, baby girl,” Eddie purrs. “They deserve some love as well.” He laves his tongue up and down the swell of your breast before sucking the nipple into his mouth. A new decibel of a whimper leaves your throat, and it has Eddie smirking around the hardened bud in his mouth. 

Your hand comes up and tangles in Eddie’s hair, fingers ever so lightly digging into his scalp as he gives your nipple a particularly harsh suck. He pulls off with a pop, hips still pounding into yours vigorously. The motion of your bodies causes your bed to shake and your headboard to bang repeatedly and obnoxiously against the wall. 

Eddie gives the same attention to your other breast, exploring the soft skin with his tongue and lips before ravishing your nipple. It only adds to the intense pressure that’s already built up in your core.

“Ed—Sir, please. I need—”

His teeth grazing your nipple has your sentence ending with a strangled gasp. 

“I know what you need, baby,” Eddie coos, leaning up to hover his face over yours. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Letting the freak use your tight little pussy. And you enjoyed it, didn’t you, sweet thing?”

“Yes,” you whine, practically a sob. “S-Sir?”

“What is it, princess?” Eddie asks, teeth clenched as he tries to stave off his impending orgasm. 

“Want you to cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he growls. It takes him a second to regain enough composure to be able to respond. “Yeah? That’s what my good girl wants? To have the freak’s cum deep inside of her? Want to feel it dripping out of you and down your legs? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll fill you up nice and good.”

Eddie bucks his hips a few more times before he cums, fucking his spend up into you with primal groans. “Take it—fuck, take my cum. Jus’ like a good girl.” He doesn’t stop until he’s soft and panting, flopping onto your chest without daring to pull out. 

The two of you lay there for a moment, catching your breaths and relishing in the post-sex glow. A post-sex glow that you’re sharing with your best friend. Your best friend, Eddie Munson, just had his dick inside you while you called him ‘sir’ and he called you ‘good girl.’

“Um, Eddie?” you manage, and he lifts his head as he finally withdraws and lays down next to you. “What…what exactly did we just do?”

“Well, when two people love each other…” He starts to tease you, but his face blanches when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean, like, as friends…”

“Right. When two people really love each other as friends, they discover each other’s kinks and have mind-blowing sex.” 

Eddie wiggles his eyebrows. “Mind-blowing, huh? You know that flattery works with me.”

“‘M serious,” you say, trying to redirect the conversation back to your original thought. “Where do we go from here?”

He considers this, tongue poking out between his lips in contemplation. “I’m spent; you wore me out with your insatiable appetite for lust.” He chuckles as you flip him off. “So I say we take a nap, and when we wake up, we can see what other kinks we wanna explore.”

“What other kinks do you have?” You rest your head on his chest and snuggle in as he wraps a protective arm around you, kissing the top of your head. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” he taunts, yawning as he says it. “Sweet dreams, angel.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

[lieslab]

Nothing new

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Minho X gn reader

Summary: Minho finds you on the porch when the hurt from the issues your father gave you tends to bubble up and fizz over.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 1.3K

Trigger warning: Daddy issues, grief, depression, anxiety, mentions of physical violence and emotional abuse.

A/N: I forgot that I wrote a daddy issue post like a week or two ago because I have the memory of a goldfish. I haven't done a Minho drabble in a while and honestly, this was one hundred percent completely self-indulgent and I cannot lie about it. I was spiraling and this was what conjured up in the middle of my grief. I'm so sorry if you can relate, we deserve better <3

_ _ _

"Why are you hanging out here alone?” Minho plopped down beside you on the back wooden porch. 

You couldn’t remember how long you had been here. Maybe it was mere minutes or maybe it was more like hours. Time seemed to blend together out here and you let it. 

The sun was starting to set. It painted the sky with roaring reds and bright oranges. Streaks of clouds were beginning to fade further and further away into the distance. Soon the sun would set and the moon would begin to climb the darkened skies. 

“I’ve been calling your name for a while. I thought you were in our bedroom, but you didn’t respond. I even thought you were showering until I found the bathroom empty. I was starting to think you had been kidnapped or something.” 

You shrugged, “I’m just here.” 

“So what are you thinking about?” 

“Noth-” 

“Bullshit. You don’t turn into a recluse unless you’re truly struggling with something. You know that I’m not going to judge you, so what are you really thinking about?” 

“Everything all at once.” 

“Anything specific?” 

“Family.” 

His face softened at the mention of your family. Life with your family has been chaotic. He knew the stories, you always told him about them. More specifically, he knew the issues that you had with your father. 

“Daddy issues again?” 

“Or perhaps my brain is the issue.” You shifted and leaned back. Your legs hung down the descending stairs, but your upper half clung to the deck. “I just…I just wish I could stop making it a big deal. I wish things didn’t affect me so much. I wish actions and words would run off me like water instead of sticking.” 

“It’s not wrong to mourn the things you missed out on. I understand that it must be hard to deal with the cards life gave you. Everyone has struggles and yours just happens to be your father.” 

“You’d think it’d stop once you grow up.” 

He paused for a moment and his eyes went out to the backyard. Off in the distance, the shared vegetable garden bloomed. Bright grown plants flourished in every direction. Two white cabbage butterflies chased each other around and around. Soon they’d land on an outer cabbage leaf and begin to munch away without a care in the world. 

“I think realizing it when you get older makes it worse. You become aware of the injustice and hurt which causes a cognitive disconnect. It makes it cut that much deeper. You don’t have to feel bad for feeling something so natural.” 

“You know what the worst part is?” You finally got out. The sting of tears began to collect in the corners of your eyes. “He’s not even a good man. We’re talking about one of the worst people out there and yet I still feel myself chasing after him.” 

“The kind of person who picks strangers over his own children. The type who spends money on stupid things instead of the youngest child’s needs. The kind of person who has no issue yelling and screaming in someone’s face. The kind that lets their anger control them and make all the decisions.” 

“But yet…I keep chasing. I keep hoping and praying. I’ve started to talk to God,” a tearful snort fell from your mouth. “I don’t even know if I believe in him, but I’ve talked to him. I keep asking for a better father, but all I hear is silence.” 

“They say you should stay in contact with your parents because they’re your parents, but what if a parent is making you so stressed and upset, your hair falls out? What if it leads to sobbing and emotional distress? What if it leads to screaming and fighting? What if trying to love my father is what kills me?” 

Minho’s heart broke apart at your words. He knew it was bad and it had been for a while, but he didn’t know it was this bad. His hand instinctively reached out for yours. The warmth of his palm connected with yours and curled around your fingers. 

“And you know what the worst part is?” 

“Hmm?” 

“If I leave him, that’s it. He won’t change and try to become a better person. He won’t think about his actions and go out of his way to change. He’ll just point the finger and belittle me. Run my name through the mud to every family member. He’ll belittle me, turn me into an outsider, pull the curtain over everyone’s eyes again. He’ll always be the good father in his eyes and I’ll just become another asshole that did him wrong. Just like the hundreds of other people that he once upon a time knew.” 

Narcissism was deadly for some. Too much of an ego and too much self-imposed-importance left people craving attention. No matter whose character they had to rip apart, they’d do it. Whether that meant belittling them to everyone they knew, screaming at them, or even assaulting them. 

Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. 

All the attention had to be swallowed by them. Like some sort of powerful sun, the rays never knew how brightly they burned. Any ounce of criticism was a pot of boiling hot water. 

The huffs and puffs. The finger in your face. The yelling and screaming as spit flew everywhere. The broadening rage that seemed to fill the room without a single sound. The angry marching from them as you tiptoed along on eggshells. Just when you let out a breath, they snapped and lashed out. 

You didn’t have time to react before you became a victim of another episode. Another rage fest where things went flying. When the refrigerator door slammed shut so hard that the shelves full of condiments shook. The way that cupboards were dented from the force of wood slamming against wood. 

Your dad would always be your dad, but he’d never be a good father. You could cry and cry and cry. You could cry enough tears to create an ocean, but it’d never be enough to wash the hate out of your father. That realization caused your heart to break apart. 

Your biological father would never love you, at least, not the way you loved him. Your chasing was starting to slow down. You could spend a few more years chasing his love and begging on your knees for it, but when was the last time your father said he loved you? 

When was the last time you were your father’s child? When was the last time that your father seemed to give a shit about you? Did he know your favorite color? Did he know the songs that caused your heart to boom with adrenaline? 

Better yet, did he know something as simple as your birthday? Does he know or does he laugh as he asks you because it’s not such a big deal to him? So when he hands you a card from the dollar store with his name, does it feel just as worthless as his love for you? 

“Is it wrong to want to be loved?” 

“Never. It’s never wrong to be loved and I’m sorry you don’t have that kind of love. If you want me to, I’ll share my father with you.” 

“I haven’t even met your father.” 

“Oh, I was talking about Bang Chan.”

“Minho!” You leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. Before you could reach it, he jerked out of reach. His hand grabbed your wrist and he jerked you closer. 

“Hey!” 

Your annoyance instantly dissolved the moment his lips met yours. Your body relaxed and you began to kiss him back. At this moment, none of your father’s lack of love mattered. Right now, you had this and what a fool you’d be to ever give it up.

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