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hyunsvngs · 6 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚! - stepdad!bang chan x fem!reader

wc: 10.2k

cw: chan is your mother's boyfriend and you want to fuck him, chan is 30 and reader is described to be younger & in college, lix is a menace, changbin is a moral compass, you do not care about morals, SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: you're home for the holidays, and your mother - who you can't stand - has a new, young, hot boyfriend. it's such a good idea trying to seduce him.. right?

a/n: it's so here <3 my first commission! i hope u all love it <3 smut warnings under the cut ofc. i also tried a new format with this fic so pls let me know what u think?!?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dirty talk, breeding kink, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampies, degradation, cumplay if u squint?, humiliation if u squint?, anal fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), edging maybe briefly, sex with feelings

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You hated going home for the holidays.

You were a rich kid, to put it simply. Your mother loved to leech off the men that she was with, marrying them quickly and trying to suck as much money as she could out of them in gifts and straight up cash before they eventually clued on and left her. It had been why your father had left when you were a mere infant, but you’d always lived in luxury due to the incessant payments that he was forced to give. You’d never met him, but there was a plus side - he was paying your college tuition, where you met your best friends.

Perhaps if you thought about it a bit more you’d realise that the only reason you went to college was to get away from your mother. She pissed you off, sauntering around the house in silk kimonos with a maid trailing behind her, pausing to look in mirrors so that she could choose where her next round of botox would hit. She frustrated you beyond belief, but you still had to go home for Christmas. Annoyingly early, too, because she had a surprise for you.

Okay, well, it wasn’t a surprise. She’d FaceTimed you a week earlier, an irritatingly wrinkle-free face popping up on the screen as she sipped mulled wine and revelled in your absence. She had a new boyfriend, she said. You’d love him, she said. Your opinion matters most to me, she said. The last one you knew to be a lie. God, you hated her.

Still, you lugged your suitcase through the front door and huffed, booting the side with your foot to try and shake some of the snow off. No surprise, she hadn’t helped you in from your taxi. She hadn’t even come to get you from the airport a mere twenty minute drive away. You dropped the suitcase on the floor, giving it another kick just for good measure, and then you were trudging into the kitchen. You’d heard voices from there, so it had to be them.

“Oh, honey!” Your mother chirped upon seeing you. You couldn’t see the face of the man washing dishes behind her, his white shirt sleeves rolled up and back facing you. You didn’t care anyway. “You made it home safe, then.”

“Yeah. The taxi driver was super nice and let me call him mum,” You quipped. She furrowed her eyebrows, lips pursed.

“Okay, you’re being weird already,” She mumbled, and then shook her head, shrugging it off. She walked to the man by the sink, spinning him around by his slender waist to display him to you. “This is Chan!”

You felt silly, stood in the kitchen doorway in oversized clothes and covered in ivory snow. The man’s eyes found you, shocked by your mother’s harsh manoeuvring, and he blinked with surprise at your figure. You blinked with surprise, too.

Chan was hot. Incredibly so, actually, and he looked young. Younger than your mother, with a big nose you wanted to ride and plush lips parting as he raised one hand to wave at you, still wet with soapy dishwasher. You wanted to lick him clean. The white shirt he wore stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were fit to burst around incredibly toned biceps. You allowed your gaze to wander down, eyes focusing on the thick thighs in the black dress trousers he wore.

There was no way this was real. “Okay,” You burst out laughing, eyes darting between Chan and your mother. “And, who is Chan? A friend? A colleague? He’s not your boyfriend.”

Chan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, I am. I’m your mother’s boyfriend, sweetheart.”

His voice was deep - too deep, deep enough to haunt your dreams and those late night sessions you had in your bed with your trusty vibrator. This was going to be trouble. You were going to be trouble.

“You’re shitting me,” You couldn’t get the amused smile off of your face. No fucking way. Your mother hadn’t bagged that. “You’re fucking with me. You have to be. Mum, he’s closer to my age than he is to yours.”

“I’m thirty, actually,” He mumbled, looking sheepish. Your mother stared at you in shock, jaw dropped at your brazenness.

“I rest my case,” You concluded, nodding decisively. When the two of them just continued to stare, you bristled slightly, starting to hop from one foot to the other. Awkward. “You… are you actually together?”

“Yes, honey,” Your mother confirmed, still looking shocked. You scoffed.

“Okay, I really need to go, actually,” You gushed, turning around to leave the kitchen. “I’m- I’m going to my room. Really nice to meet you, Chan, really.”

Shooting upstairs, you completely ignored your suitcase still leaking snow all over the hardwood floors and darted into your bedroom. It still looked exactly how you’d left it, band posters all over the walls and teddies littering the end of your bed. You threw yourself on top of the mattress, fingers yanking your phone out of your pocket and clicking the button on the most recent group call on FaceTime. Immediately, your college best friends picked up.

“There’s already a problem?” Felix scrunched his nose up, face way too close to the camera. Changbin was on the other side, face looking confused in the little square designated to him on your phone screen.

“I just met my mother’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, right, how did that go?” Changbin questioned, tilting his head to the side. You caught sight of your face in your own little square, flushed and appalled.

“He is thirty years of age, Changbin,” You began. Felix gasped, tiny hand moving to cover his mouth. “He is thirty years of age, and he is really fucking hot.”

“Oh my god,” Felix mumbled, muffled behind his hand. “Oh my god, you have to fuck him.”

Changbin choked on air. “She has to- No, Felix, no!”

“No, I can’t do that. It would be fucked up,” You mused. Or.. “Wait, would it even be that fucked up? He is closer to my age. I hate my mother.”

Felix’s hand fell, and he giggled before speaking in his trademark goblin voice - “Fuck him.”

“Don’t!” Changbin shrieked, his phone shaking in his hand. “I really think this is a bad idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Felix grinned, looking smug. “I’d do it.”

“There’s not a lot you wouldn’t do,” Changbin retorted. Felix stuck his tongue out at him. You, however, were silent, musing on the situation and staring at your wall. Could you do it? Changbin noticed, sighing. “Baby, please no.”

You licked your lips, nodding. You could do it. You wanted to do it - needed it, even. Those biceps were going to plague your life forever otherwise. “Operation fuck my mother’s boyfriend is a go.”

Felix screamed in delight. Changbin ended the call.

SATURDAY

It was time. Your mother was out at brunch with some friends, and you had plans to invade Chan’s personal space because you had a feeling he’d be too polite to tell you otherwise. You knew he’d set up the spare room as his own home studio, because your mother had delighted in telling you how Chan was a super successful music producer and was often tinkering away in there these days. You were going to let yourself in, try to get to know him a bit.

The knock you landed on the door was anything but subtle. Your fist rapped on the door and you heard a little hum in response, so you swung open the door, eyes landing on Chan hunched over his desk. He looked even younger like this, beanie pulled down over dark curls and headphones positioned on his head. He continued to stare at the file on his computer, head bobbing absentmindedly, so you strode up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around on his computer chair, blinking confusedly at you. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” You beamed. “Sorry about last night. I was rude. I was feeling kinda weird, y’know, with the travelling.”

“No, I completely get it,” Chan put his hands up as if to diffuse the atmosphere. You nodded, still smiling. Chan stared at you when you didn’t respond instantly, and you crossed your hands behind your back, pressing against the plaid pattern of the dress you’d chosen for today. It was all part of the plan - the tight, short dress was perfect for seduction. He looked down at your chest, before clearing his throat, reverting his gaze to your eyes. “Um… did you need something, by the way?”

You gasped, as if remembering. “Oh, yeah! I did. My mother told me you were a music producer, and I was really curious. I was wondering if you’d show me some stuff…?”

It was Chan’s turn to smile, nodding excitedly. “Of course. Here, put these on.”

He linked two fingers around his headphones and handed them to you, to which you obediently put them over your ears. He was quieter now, but you could still slightly hear him mumbling as he found a spare chair for you to sit on. Your eyes scanned the files, eventually fixating on a file titled Drive. That one had to be dirty.

“Okay, so. I have this one, it’s my most recent one, and-”

“I want to listen to that one,” You cut him off, pointing at the song. When you turned to look at him, he was biting his lip nervously, pink tinting the ends of his ears and his cheeks. “What is it, Chan?”

“You- that one is a little, uh… heh. A little inappropriate.”

Unsurprisingly, you darted over his desk to grab the computer mouse and double click on the file. Chan squealed, but you ignored him, listening to the song. You were right. It was dirty, the two singers crooning about something that was a thinly-veiled innuendo about driving. It took you a second and then you clicked. One of them was Chan. This was Chan singing, on a song about sex. God, could he get any hotter?

You slid one of the ear cups off of your ear, turning to Chan with a shit eating grin. “This is you singing? You’re really good, Chan.” You weren’t lying. He was really good, and it had you wondering why he was a producer and not singing.

“Yeah, well, it was just an experimental track. Me and my mate were just messing around,” Chan mumbled shyly, hand scratching the back of his neck. You tried to avoid staring at the way his biceps tensed in his tight t-shirt at the movement. He was still blushing, but you had to kick it up a notch.

“It is kinda inappropriate, though, isn’t it?” You chirped excitedly. Chan’s lips parted, as if he was looking for something to say. His eyes stared into your own, piercing and dark and all-consuming. “I think you’re a little dirty, Channie.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrowed at your use of the nickname. “That’s- you can’t say that. That’s inappropriate.”

“What?” You feigned shock-horror. Play dumb. “I can’t call you Channie? Why not?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Chan groaned, pointing an accusing finger at you. You giggled anyway, jumping up and slipping the headphones back onto his head. You made sure to trail your fingertips down his neck after doing so. He shivered noticeably. You smiled.

“That was super good, Channie, thank you.”

You didn’t miss his groan of disbelief as you bounded out of the room. You had him, and it was easier than you’d expected it to be.

SUNDAY

Something was happening. You weren’t sure what, just yet, but something was happening. Chan was acting a little weird after what happened the day before, and you’d already caught Felix and Changbin up on the nonsense plan you had.

“I think you need to accept that this is just down to you having a fat crush on him and severe daddy issues,” Changbin mused, and you gasped. He was right though. This wasn’t completely about getting back at your mother in a sick, twisted way. You wanted him.

Phase two of your plan was underway as soon as you caught sight of him on the sofa. He was watching some cheesy Christmas movie, your mother tinkering away in the kitchen - when had she ever cooked? - so it was prime seducing time. He had one of the thick throw blankets over his lap, fingers playing with the fluffy fabric absentmindedly. You hopped into the living room in your short pyjamas, frowning at Chan when you felt the goosebumps on your legs.

“Whatcha watching?” You asked, making him jump when he realised your presence. He smiled nonetheless, motioning to the seat next to him, and you took it. You perched and ensured that you left no room between you both.

“Some cheesy film. The woman’s marrying a prince, I think.”

“Sounds awful. I can’t wait to watch it,” You smiled, and Chan chuckled, relaxing on the sofa. You managed to make it five whole minutes before you were rubbing your hands up your legs, trying to create a semblance of warmth.

Chan turned to you, frowning. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” You whined, pulling your legs up into your chest. “‘S cold in here, right?”

“C’mere,” He mumbled, reaching for the end of the blanket and throwing it over your lap. You hummed contentedly, inching a little closer under the guise of the cold weather. The blanket was warm. You were kind of jealous he’d been in such comfort this whole time while you’d been thinking of ways to get his cock inside your mouth.

“Thanks, Channie,” Chan only nodded, continuing to watch the film. You had a feeling he was pretending to be so focused on it, given you weren’t sure he even knew the plot before your arrival.

You squirmed on your seat, thrashing each way until you found yourself comfortable, hand splayed over Chan’s knee. He tensed under your touch.

“You’re touching me, sweetheart,” He warned, his voice low and deep. You shivered, turning to him.

“Am I?”

“You are. You’re touching my leg underneath the blanket, aren’t you?”

You hummed. “Is that okay, Chan?”

Chan turned to you, his eyes not even holding any sign of shock. He knew what game you were playing, you realised, and maybe he was playing along. He licked his lips, head back against the sofa, and then he shrugged dismissively.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

You left your hand there for the whole film.

MONDAY

The showers at home were something you’d missed. The ones in college didn’t quite cut it - not even now that you lived with Changbin and Felix in your own student home. All three of you were young adults, after all, and that came with you being a little too messy.

At home, you didn’t have to worry about mess. Your mother had cleaners employed with your dad’s money anyway. Admittedly, you realised you were being a little spoiled, so you’d learned to clean up after yourself. The showers were still better, though. Bigger, and the water pressure hit you just right.

Especially when you detached the shower head and pressed it to your clit. You felt pathetic. You’d only tried to seduce Chan for two fucking days, and there you were, legs shaking at the thought of him. Maybe it was the chase that got you feeling hot, or maybe it was the fact that you might actually be getting somewhere - you might actually be getting close to fucking him, muscles bulging as he ploughed into you.

It had you pressing the shower head harder, your spare hand coming up to pinch your nipple. You whined, bucking your hips into the water stream. The steam was all over the bathroom by now, staining the shower with condensation and making your skin feel pruned and flushed. Or did you feel flushed from the thoughts of Chan? Maybe he’d fuck you the way you liked. He must have experience, you assumed, being a few years older than you. You thought about how he’d make you feel, how he’d touch you, and how you’d feel in his arms. You thought about how you’d feel when you came, and what it would be like to be with him. You wanted to feel him so badly.

Was he as big down there as he was everywhere else? Sure, he’s not too tall, but he’s every part a man. That much was clear. Would he bend you in half, pushing you into a mating press and fuck you raw the way you liked, cumming inside and letting you call him daddy and-

You wailed, legs trembling with one last buckle before you were cumming. You felt wet, too wet even just from the shower, and you belatedly realised you’d have to wash again. Ugh. This plan needed to end, like… yesterday.

Coming out of the shower freshly washed, you wrapped a towel around your figure and checked the time on your phone. Your thumb slipped around the screen from the condensation in the bathroom, but the plan was going well. If you left the bathroom now, then hopefully Chan would be heading to bed, and he’d catch you in your towel. Ideally, he’d be so hot for you that he’d just have to have you, and then you could get the thoughts of him out of your head.

You burst out of the room in a flurry of steam and movement, almost tripping over your own feet when you noticed that it had actually fucking worked. Chan stood stock still at the other end of the hallway, his eyes fixated on the way the towel wrapped tightly around your chest, at risk of falling. You smiled, waving innocently, and he stalked towards you. He was seeing red. You could tell from the way he cornered you, crowding around you with the small advantage he had on your height.

“You need to stop this,” He mumbled, eyes looking at your mother’s bedroom door. He was playing a dangerous game. You were, too, and you both knew it. “I’m dating your mother. You need to stop this, sweetheart.”

“Stop what?” You tilted your head, acting confused. “I just had a shower.”

Chan scoffed, shaking his head. “I fucking heard you in there.”

Oh. You couldn’t hide your smirk that time. “Yeah, I missed that shower head. Why were you perving on me, Chan?”

Chan rubbed his temples. He wasn’t wearing a beanie today, only a hoodie and baggy joggers. You liked it. You could see his hair like this, dark and curly and frizzy on his head. He looked cute. Wait, what?

He took a deep breath. His eyes moved to fixate on you, tongue running over his teeth. “Why would I be perving on you?”

“Oh, don’t lie,” You crossed your arms over your chest. Chan’s eyes moved down to stare at where your tits bulged over the towel. “I bet you stood there for ages, cock hard in your cute joggers, listening to me moan in the shower. That’s a little fucked up, no? Thinking about your girlfriend’s daughter like that-”

You were cut off by him pushing you to the wall, lips slamming into yours. He bit into your mouth instantly, letting out a deep groan and hands moving to grab your ass through the towel. You let your lips part in a whimper, pushing your tongue into his mouth and running your hands through his hair. It was a filthy exchange of tongue and teeth, and by the end of it, you were gasping, grabbing him by the waist and trying to pull him closer. You pulled away, breathing heavily and your eyes still locked on each other. You both stood there, not speaking, as you both processed what you had just done. You both knew it was wrong, but you wanted it so bad.

Chan stepped back, breathing out a heavy sigh. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You watched in shock as he turned around, walking into your mother’s bedroom and leaving you there. You were wet again. This was getting ridiculous now.

In your room, Felix screamed so loud you had to turn the volume down on your phone. Changbin choked on air again.

TUESDAY

You hadn’t seen Chan all day. You presumed he was in his studio, working away on another track while your mother was in work. You were bored. Felix had been spending time with his family, and Changbin was out doing rich kid things that you could sympathise with. Thrashing around on your bed, annoyed and huffing, you decided you were just going to go and annoy Chan. It was your newly favourite pastime to get under his skin.

Stalking down the stairs to his studio, you paused when you heard a voice. Not just one voice, two voices. Was your mother there? No, no way. She never goes into that room, it’s his work room. You’d been in there though. You tried to suppress a grin at that realisation.

The other voice was a man’s. Chan had a call on speakerphone, judging by the tinny effect covering the unknown male’s voice and Chan humming every so often. Who was the other man? A colleague, or just a friend?

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate,” Chan groaned. You could barely hear him, and you held your breath, coming closer to the closed door. “I want her so bad, and it’s so wrong. I- I kissed her last night, Minho.”

There were a few yells from the other end of the phone. “You kissed her?! Chan, you fucking animal. You want her so bad, just fuck her. She’s clearly hoping that’s the outcome here.”

You grinned. You were.

“She’s- it’s outrageous. She walks around in practically nothing, and she’s got such a tight fucking body, man. She makes my dick so fucking hard, I’ve never felt anything like it before. Even when I met her, in the kitchen, she was-”

Chan cut himself off with a sigh. ‘Minho’ hummed, waiting for him to continue.

“She’s so bratty. She’s exactly the type of girl I would’ve gone for, before I met her mother.”

“Seriously?” Minho questioned, and Chan agreed. “You have to do it.”

“Minho-”

“No, Chan. I’m serious,” Minho’s voice was firm. “If she’s fucking you up this bad, you can’t have liked her mother that much, yeah? Just do it. You know it’s going to happen anyway.”

“It’s-” Chan began. You could imagine him rubbing his temples in distress behind the door. “She’s younger than me. I don’t want her to feel as though I’m taking advantage, y’know? The ball’s in her court.”

The ball has always been in your court.

“It sounds like she wants you to take advantage, to be honest,” Minho erupted in a fit of giggles, and you found yourself almost laughing along. Minho was annoyingly right. You only hoped he could get rid of that stick up Chan’s ass and get you a good dicking down.

It meant it was time for the next phase of your plan. You assumed Chan had wanted you, embarrassingly so, but you weren’t quite sure until he’d kissed you the day before. After hearing this conversation? Well, you had to do it.

You returned to your room, scribbling a quick note on a piece of paper. If Chan found this, which he would, it meant that he’d come to your room tomorrow night and you could maybe talk about what the fuck was going on. The sexual tension was too much for you, and now you knew he felt the same. Why were you beating around the bush? You had to make something out of this.

You ignored the stuttering of breath you heard when you slid the note under his door, and returned back to your room with a cocky grin.

WEDNESDAY

Chan hadn’t mentioned the note. You didn’t think he would, but you felt disappointed nonetheless. You’d woken up in the morning, eaten breakfast with him and your mother - cringing when he kissed her on the cheek when she left for work - and you’d even done the dishes yourself, letting him slip off to do some work in the studio. It was prime time for him to mention what you’d written, and he hadn’t. It was pissing you off.

Still, good things come to those who wait. You were confident. Felix had been egging you on all day over text, Changbin had been sending random upset emojis. It was perfect.

Settling on your sheets at night, you felt a little pathetic. You’d lit a few candles, left the curtains just right on the window so that the moonlight billowed in, and Chan hadn’t arrived. Maybe he hadn’t received your note. No, there was no way - you practically heard his response through the door when he saw it slid under. He got the note. Perhaps you’d made him uncomfortable, made him withdraw from you despite all the progress you’d made. Why had you put in so much effort? You didn’t like him, not like that. Or did you? You felt ridiculous, almost like a child waiting for-

A knock on the door brought you out of your self-loathing thoughts, and you jumped up, swinging the bedroom door open. Chan immediately crowded inside of your bedroom, pressing the door shut softly. You stood there in silence, taking him in. He looked cosy, in a baggy hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms. It was hard to believe he was dating your mother, especially when he looked so vulnerable like this - dark, curly hair still slightly wet from his shower, and his eyes blown wide with an unreadable emotion while he looked at you.

Chan sighed. “You’re really playing with fire. Do you know how this could look, me coming into your room at night? Do you know how wrong this is?”

You faltered. For the first time since meeting Chan, you felt as though he was angry at you. “I- I heard you on the phone, Channie. I thought you wanted me too.”

You watched in awe as Chan crossed your bedroom, groaning and throwing himself onto the bed. He was hard, erect in his bottoms. You blinked confusedly. He was hard just from being in here?

“I do want you,” Chan said, but it was muffled, hidden behind his hands that he had placed over his face in distress. He let them fall to his sides, staring up at the ceiling. “I want you so bad that it’s pissing me off beyond belief. I know what you’ve been doing too, trying to seduce me. It’s so pathetic it makes me feel hot, y’know?”

You giggled, following his journey across the room and settling next to him on the bed. You sat cross legged, comfortable in your long pyjamas. The candlelight flickered, casting a glow over his face, and he turned to look at you. He licked his lips, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is ridiculous-”

“It’s ridiculous that you haven’t fucked me yet,” You responded, quick as a flash. Chan leaned up on his forearms, raising an eyebrow at you. Now was the time. You had to say it. “You know how bad I want you. I touched you up on the sofa, and you let me. You wanted me to, I think. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but-”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, and you’re not wrong,” Chan admitted. You could see the blush on his cheeks despite the dimly lit room. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I want you, too.”

Chan shot across the bed, leaning in and kissing you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. It made you wet beyond belief that he just felt like he knew what he was doing, hands travelling down to your waist to softly press you into the sheets. His tongue swept into your mouth, pressing against yours and you whimpered, making him groan into the kiss. When his hands went up to your hair, he intertwined his fingers in the strands and pulled, making you gasp and let out a heady, hot breath. He pulled away, lips parted when he stared at you.

“You are such a horny little thing, it’s so hot,” He mumbled, lips pressing to your neck. He bit your skin sharply, making you keen and spread your legs, allowing him to position his hips between your thighs. The movement pressed his bulge into your core, and you tried not to shift and move your hips in a rhythm of pleasure. His fingers traced over your skin, and he chuckled, a low, sexy sound that made your heart race. He pulled back, leaning back on his legs and staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “I want to see you touch yourself.”

You paused. “What?”

“I want to know what you like. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow night. How’s that sound?” He was propositioning you, teasing you, and you were falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

You gave him a nod. Right. Touching yourself for him - that was something you could do. This was just another Wednesday for you, you loved putting on a show, especially for a man who was rock hard and obviously desperate for you. But with Chan… why did you feel so fucking nervous all of a sudden? You'd spent your whole day waiting to fuck him, and he’d taken back the power, thrown a wrench into your plans.

You leaned back on your bed. How did you sit sexily? You were stuck in your own head.

Chan moved backwards, hand moving over his clothed erection. He’d spread his legs, thick thighs parted for you to see the promising bulge between them. "Pretend I'm not even here, sweetheart," he said, eyes blown wide with lust. You almost rolled your eyes. Easier said than done, when he was sitting there with his dark curls and his thick, kissable lips and his impossibly huge bulge. “Touch yourself like you’ve done before. Show me how you make yourself cum, and I’ll fuck you tomorrow, I promise.”

Fuck it. You'd never let an attractive man break you down yet, and that wasn't going to change. You nodded timidly, hands moving to grip your breasts through your shirt. It made you sigh, and Chan responded with a noise of his own when you impatiently rucked the fabric up to above your chest. Sucking two fingers into your mouth, you whined when you traced the wet digits around your pebbled peak teasingly.

“Ah, ‘s- I’m sensitive there, Channie,” You mumbled, and he nodded as if he was making a note for it for later. You trailed your fingertips across your nipples, pinching and twisting them almost painfully just to make your hips cant up into thin air. You were too impatient to do this how you normally would, so you scratched your fingernails down your tummy and shoved a hand in your pyjama bottoms. You were met with slick, wet folds, fingers sliding around in the mess you made.

“Show me,” Chan said, eyes trained on where your hand disappeared beneath the fabric. “Show me that pussy. You’re meant to be showing me everything, remember?”

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” You huffed, and Chan shook his head in disbelief, grinning. You were shocked to see he actually listened, though, pushing his joggers down to his thighs and letting his erection spring out. It was impossibly hard, pearlescent drops accumulating on his cockhead and you licked your lips subconsciously. “I wanna-”

“No,” Chan cut you off, hand moving to wrap around his cock in a tight fist. He was long, thick and heavy between his thighs and you felt your pussy clench sadly around nothing. “Show me your pussy. I’m not asking again, let me take a look at it.”

You whined, pushing your pyjama bottoms down to reveal your slick core. Your clit was swollen, throbbing with need just from a few kisses and Chan’s general presence, and you could feel a rivulet of wetness sliding down between your lips. Chan groaned in approval, hand quickening on his cock just slightly.

“Spread it, show me your hole,” Chan said, and you moved your thighs further apart for him. Reaching down with two fingers, you moved them into a v-shape and spread your folds for him. Your hole quivered under the inspection, leaking more wetness and Chan’s eyes were hyper fixated on it. “Oh, baby. That looks tight. Has no one ever fucked that little pussy right, huh? Tell me.”

“N-No,” You shook your head, thighs quivering when you finally let two fingers rub over your clit. You started with a blistering pace immediately, making your toes curl into the sheets and your back arch upwards. “No, I- it’s only boys from college, I don’t-”

“Ah, I see. You need someone older, yeah? More experienced?” Chan questioned, his breath coming out heavy with every tightly fisted movement on his cock. You whined, nodding, and then you were breaching your hole with two fingers immediately. The stretch made you groan, head falling back against the pillow. “Is that why you tried to seduce me, yeah? Wanted to have my cock stretching you out just right, wanted to call me daddy while I made you cry?”

God, he’d got it. He was right on the mark. “Yes, y-yes, I- I wanted to, oh, I wanted to call you daddy, and- and feel you inside me, and oh, Channie, please-” You cut yourself off with a moan, perhaps too loud as you curled your fingertips up against your g-spot. Chan threw his head back, letting out a grunt as he pinched his cockhead almost painfully.

“Say it then, baby. What’s stopping you?” He polished the head of his cock, moaning before he took it into his tight grip again. His precum served as lubrication, his hand now making wet slick sounds on his thick length. You gasped when he moved his free hand to his balls, rubbing calloused fingertips over them and letting out his own gasp. “Beg me for my cock. I know you want it, look at you. Fuckin’ desperate, yeah? Beg daddy for his big cock.”

“Oh, daddy,” You whined, moving your free hand to rub over your clit. Everything was so wet, sliding around your pussy and you were honestly surprised you could feel anything - but it felt so fucking good, having him watch you like this, learning what you liked so he could replicate it. “Fuckin’- daddy, daddy, please, can I have it? Been good, doin’ what you asked, I- hnnng, daddy, oh my god-”

“No,” He smiled, a cocky grin while he rubbed one hand over his cock and the other over his heavy balls. “No, baby. Not tonight. Make yourself cum tonight, and daddy will help you tomorrow.”

“I- need more, need more, I-'' Chan surged over the bed, leaning over your figure to press his lips against yours. His tongue dominated your mouth again, and you could feel his closed fist hitting your stomach as he worked himself to his orgasm. The sensation had you whining against his plush lips, fingers thrusting quicker into your pussy and your other hand sliding around your clit messily. When he pulled away, lips digging into your bottom lip teasingly, his lips were quick to move to your neck to suck some dark purple marks into the skin. You felt yourself trembling, your body tense as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your fingers stroked your walls faster, pussy fluttering around your digits in delight, and your mouth opened in a gasp as you felt your body tense and tremble with pleasure. “I’m g’na- g’na cum, gonna cum, please, can I? Can I, daddy? Can I cum for you, please?”

“Yeah, baby,” He huffed, eyes rolling back into his head. He was practically drooling onto your skin, lips parted against your neck as you whined and thrashed on your bedsheets. “Cum for me. Been good for daddy, haven’t you? You can cum, baby, c’mon. Show me how pretty you are when you cum.”

You fell apart around your own fingers, your orgasm crashing through you like a wave. Your thighs tensed with your orgasm, your pussy clenching down impossibly tighter around your hand and flooding down to your knuckles with your cum. You begged and pleaded, your voice a barely audible babble as your body shook with the sensation.

Finally, when you’d just felt like you were coming down, Chan pulled your wrist away from your pussy. The movement left you empty, your walls still clenching down except now it was around nothing, and you whined, bottom lip quivering in need.

“Hands off,” He sighed, hand slowing down on his cock. He was trying to last longer for something - you weren’t sure what, but you let your other hand drop from your clit obediently. “Daddy’s gonna cum on this wet little hole, baby, okay? You gonna let me cum here, mark you as mine?”

“Yes,” You moaned, nodding. You couldn’t think of anything better, actually. “‘M yours, I’m yours, daddy, gimme.”

“Dirty thing, perfect little girl,” He grunted, and then he was positioning his cockhead at your hole. With a few more movements, increasing in speed, you watched as his face screwed up in pleasure. His hips bucked, and with a final thrust, he came. You felt his cum drip down your hole as he groaned through his orgasm, thick white cum plastering your pussy. It was definitely the sexiest thing you’d experienced, but you still felt a little disappointed - why couldn’t he have just done it inside you?

“Wan’it,” You whined, pulling your legs back. Chan chuckled upon seeing the pout on your lips. “Why couldn’t you- in me, wanted it in me, daddy.”

“Greedy bitch,” He mused, and then he was delving down to your core. Your mind went blank when his tongue licked fat stripes up your folds, collecting all of his cum and your wetness in his mouth. You briefly thought you could cum from this, very quickly judging by the way he knew what he was doing, but he simply leaned over you and grabbed your jaw.

Oh. You let your lips part, tongue lolling out of your mouth obediently, and he spat the mixture of your cum into your mouth. You felt him lick into your mouth again, groaning at the taste of your pussy and his load. He smiled against your lips and pulled away, your eyes wide as you tried to process what had just happened.

Chan’s lips curved in satisfaction at your state, your chest still heaving with a blotchy rash that bore the truth of what you’d been up to. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and then he was standing up and leaving the room, bottoms barely pulled over his hips. You laid there, feeling an intense mix of pleasure and confusion.

What the fuck just happened?

THURSDAY

You hadn’t even processed what had happened last night. In all honesty, you’d run out of the house in the morning under the premise of a coffee date with friends you didn’t even have. You just sat in the cafe on call with Changbin and Felix and screamed way too loudly for a public area. The whole cafe knew of your predicament by the end of it.

Upon your return home, you’d beelined to your room and kicked the door shut as quietly as you could. Unfortunately, your foot slipped on the floor and you’d ended up face down with a groan.

Turning over onto your back, you huffed at the offending item that had caused your decline to the ground. A piece of paper met your eyes, neatly folded and written on with what looked like black Sharpie when you’d finally unravelled it.

Three words. Three words that changed your life and let you know that what occurred the night before had really happened. No, not ‘I love you’ - it was simple, a scrawled ‘your room, tonight’. It did happen. You touched yourself in front of Chan, and he was planning on coming back to your room to continue what you’d discussed.

You wanted to squeal and kick your feet, but beneath it all, you felt panicked. This plan had gone too far, and you’d perhaps started to think about spending time with your mother’s boyfriend - actual time, not just sexually charged meetings. It hurt a little bit, a pang in your chest when you remembered that what was happening really was just sexual. Your little arrangement being anything else just wasn’t fathomable.

Chan was interesting. He was a fucking music producer, for god’s sake. That was just straight up cool. That, and he was older than you - you did have raging daddy issues like your friends had said, after all. His friend had sounded funny on the phone, which meant he had to be funny, too.

All things serious, you didn’t really know much about him, but you wanted to know. Felix had encouraged you to find out, and you felt like you owed it to him - or yourself, you weren’t sure.

The knock on your door once the evening fell brought you out of your reverie. Chan didn’t wait for a response, swinging your bedroom door open and walking straight in as if he owned the house. You huffed at his demeanour, yet your eyes were still fixated on the way he walked over to your bed with intent. You threw your phone to the side. Felix would have to wait for your half-typed text message.

“Back again so soon?” You quipped, and he raised an eyebrow. He was only in grey joggers, the thin material highlighting his thick dick imprint between his legs. The fabric hung low, showing off the body that you knew he worked so hard for. His chest was honey toned, yet covered in light, sparse freckles - you wanted to make yourself acquainted with every single one. You felt a little overdressed in just an oversized t-shirt and shorts.

Seeing the frustrated expression on your face, Chan’s own face fell. “Do you not want me here?” He said, voice no more than a whisper. “I can go, if you don’t want to see me tonight. I just thought-”

“I do,” You nodded, finally raising yourself from your position lying down to sitting up cross legged. Chan laid on the bed in front of you, one arm propping his head up. He gazed at you for a few moments, and you could see the relief in his eyes at your words. “I do want to see you tonight. I want to see you like… a lot. Don’t you think it’s weird though? I’m your girlfriend’s daughter, Chan, and we’ve kissed and- and done other stuff, and-”

He scooted over so that he was next to you, and you leaned into him subconsciously. He pulled you in with his arm around your shoulders, broad and muscled. You felt content, comfortable and most of all safe. It was a feeling you’d never felt before.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Chan hummed, his chest vibrating beneath where you’d landed when he pulled you in. He chuckled, then, his hand moving to your hair comfortingly. “Okay, maybe it is a little weird. I’m just very interested in you. I know you heard me on the phone to Minho, and yes, you are my type - I want to know more about you. Like, even beneath the sexually charged tension, heh.”

Oh. You licked your lips, eyes fixated on a random spot in your wall. “You do?”

He nodded. “I do.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You raised your head, surging over Chan’s body to press a kiss to his lips. His hair was soft when you ran your hands through it, despite random curls getting caught in your nails and causing him to groan at the pain flooding through his scalp. His hands went to your waist, licking into your mouth while he effortlessly pulled you on top of him. The show of strength had you whimpering into the kiss, hands moving down to his jaw. It clenched and unclenched while he had full control over your mouth despite you being on top.

You pulled away with a wet sigh, moving downwards to kiss at his neck. He groaned underneath his breath at the sensation of your lips on his skin. Your bed squeaked awkwardly as you moved down it, too quick for the old springs to handle. It felt naughty, kissing him like this in your childhood room - it felt even dirtier than the night before had, and you hadn’t done anything yet.

“I need you, Chan,” You whispered, nipping at his collarbone. “Need you. Please.”

He gasped as he felt your tongue trace the outline of his collarbone. He flung one bicep over his dark eyes with a deep sigh, allowing you to kiss and bite all over his skin. He looked like he was trying to control himself. You didn’t want him to.

Your hips started to grind against him, and you placed your palms flat on his chest. Both of Chan’s hands moved back to your hips with a surprised noise, but he didn’t stop you. His dick was hardening in his joggers, and it was providing the best clothed friction to your aching, needy clit below your pyjama shorts. You saw how big it was before, yet the length of it still shocked you when you slid your clothed core up and down the shaft.

“Daddy,” You whined, hips starting to buck frantically. You were sure that you had never felt this needy in your life. “Daddy, daddy, I want you so bad. You turn me on so bad, make me feel so hot, please-”

“Baby,” Chan groaned, his head falling back against your pillows. The soft pink bed sheets juxtaposed completely with what you were doing, and juxtaposed completely with him - Chan, the muscled man with dark hair who wore black and grey clothes constantly. It was as if he was corrupting you, and he was in a sense, being so much older. “Baby, c’mere, come and lay on the bed. Let daddy eat you out, yeah?”

“No,” You shook your head, hips still moving on his erection. Chan’s chest had started to accumulate a thin layer of dewy sweat, slick on his skin and making you want to lick it off. “I want your cock. I don’t wanna wait, I don’t wanna wait, please, just put it in, I’m wet enough, I promise.”

He knew you were babbling, incoherent in your haze of lust, but he still entertained you enough anyway. You spread your legs wider when his hand met your thigh, and then he was pushing two fingers beneath your shorts. He was met with your slick folds, and you gasped at feeling the touch of his fingertips, calloused from years of working with music.

“Oh, fucking hell. Dirty girl, dirty fuckin’ girl,” Chan moaned, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. “This pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, baby. All we did was kiss. Are you that much of a slut for me? Are you that much of a slut for your mother’s boyfriend? That’s filthy.”

“Yes!” You wailed, nodding. You reached down, canting your hips backwards a little bit so you could spread your thighs wider before hooking your fingers in your shorts and pulling them to the side. The movement revealed your pussy, clit swollen at the top of soaking wet folds, covering your drippy hole. “I wan’it so bad, so bad, so bad, please, please. Just push it in, make it hurt, I don’t care-”

Chan shoved the fingers of his spare hand between your parted lips, effectively shutting you up. “Shut up. You’ve got to prove to me you deserve it, baby.”

With those words, he was pushing a finger past your entrance. It breached your hole easily, the digit sliding through your wetness and curving up past your g-spot. Chan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and shock, and then he was pulling his finger out. With a quick movement, he’d yanked his joggers down and let his cock spring out. The coarse hair was trimmed above his long, thick shaft and you couldn’t help but imagine the type of friction that would give your clit - you couldn’t wait.

“You were right. That slutty pussy is wet enough,” He mused, pulling your hips over his bare cock. Your pyjama shorts were slightly in the way, and you pulled them aside even more, letting your folds leave wetness over his shaft. “Lower yourself on it. Stretch yourself out. Slowly.”

You did as he asked, lowering your body onto his length. You felt the stretch immediately. You moaned, loud and ringing off of your walls. You didn’t give a shit if your mother heard. Fuck, you needed this. You wanted to bounce all over his cock until there was nothing left and your hole could do nothing but remember the tight fit. Trying to sit down quicker, Chan grabbed your hips, stopping you while only half his length was in you.

“You're gonna hurt yourself like that, sweetheart. That hole is so tight around me.”

“Please, daddy,” Your head fell into the nape of his neck. You wriggled yourself in his tight hold, trying to get more of his length in your pussy. He shook his head against you, chuckling.

“You want it? Fine, but don't fucking cry to me when it hurts,” Chan said, letting go of your ass. You realised he'd been holding you up, and within a millisecond you'd slammed down onto him. You wanted to scream, the stretch more than you could take. He laughed again, raising his eyebrows at you mockingly. “Too big?”

"N-No, perfect," You retorted. He moaned, spreading his legs and placing his feet flat on the mattress. More. More. Fucking more. You began to raise on him, expecting to ride that perfect cock, but he started to thrust up into you at an unrelenting place straight away, his balls slapping against your ass. You moaned incoherently, almost babbling, hands digging into his toned biceps. He leaned up to nip at your neck, and then he was pulling your t-shirt off of your body.

“No fucking bra?” Chan laughed in disbelief. His mouth went straight to your nipples, biting and sucking on the hard peaks. You jostled on his lap with his thrusts. You wanted to rub your clit, but you felt like he probably wouldn't let you. “Knew you were fucking filthy, sweetheart. You didn't even care about me going raw, did you? You want my load in that dirty hole. And now I find out these pretty tits were only one layer away from me…”

His voice trailed off. You whined, leaning down to try and kiss him again. He shoved his two fingers back in your mouth, making you suck on them. His bruising sucks caused your nipples to hurt, and you fucking loved it. You knew he was marking you up and you'd just have to deal with it.

You tried to start riding him. He didn't let you, manhandling you off of his cock.

“Daddy!” You whined in protest. Chan chuckled. He lifted you and manhandled you so your back was facing him on your bed, and you immediately repositioned yourself so you were face down, ass up. He reentered you in one swift thrust, causing you to jolt in surprise.

“Fucking tight pussy,” He groaned, thrusting into you with the same vigor as before. You almost screamed, but managed to just moan incoherently. The mattress creaked, the sound of old springs ringing around the room. “Fucking dirty hole. Listen to that, sweetheart. Can you hear how wet your cunt is for daddy's cock? For your mother’s boyfriend’s cock?”

You tried to stop whining and moaning to hear what he was pointing out to you, hearing wet slaps. Your cheeks burned with humiliation, fingernails digging into the mattress. You knew you were dripping for a fact now. You could hear it, you could hear everything, his balls slapping against your clit as well as the wet noise of his heavy cock reentering you.

You threw your ass back against him, trying to get the tip to hit that special spot inside of you.

“I think that asshole needs me too, sweetheart,” Chan laughed mirthlessly, his hands resting firmly on your ass, encouraging your bouncing. You moaned in response, clenching your pussy tight. He was going to ruin you for everyone. You'd have to just keep coming back for more. “You want daddy's finger in there? You want me to finger your asshole?”

Oh, yes. “Please, daddy, need to be full,” You said, wiggling your hips against him. You vaguely registered him reaching around you and making you suck on the fingers that had previously been in your mouth. He was going to fill both of your holes, and he moaned loudly at the sight of you sucking his fingers. There was no way that the whole house hadn’t heard you both by now. You hoped they were sleeping.

You sighed in ecstasy, feeling the fingers begin to move inside your ass. His thrusting was now hitting your g-spot in your pussy, given the added pressure from being full in both holes. You felt the orgasm finally begin to build. You liked the way he wasn't rushing you to cum, not like those younger college boys. He was taking care of you and just having good fucking sex. “Feels so fucking good, daddy. Feels so good.”

You were now semi-incoherent, your words all joining together in one long moan. Chan loved it, judging by his moans. His cock was pulsing inside you. You wondered if he was close. You wanted him to fill you up to the point where it was dripping out of you.

He pulled out of you again, grabbing your leg with one strong hand and flipping you onto your back. You were out of breath from the exertion, despite him doing all the work, and he looked fully composed save for the thin sheen of sweat on his body.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked, looming above you. You squirmed feeling your sweaty back rubbing against the blanket uncomfortably, but you nodded anyway. You wanted to please him. He looked down at your writhing body, letting out another groan. “So fucking sexy. You don’t know how much you fucking killed me, teasing me like that. Touch that pussy for me again, show me.”

He started pumping his shaft quickly, still staring down at you. You reached down with one hand and immediately pressed two fingers against your entrance, collecting the slick gathering outside before diving straight in. You curled your fingers against that spot inside of you, whining out. It wasn't enough. Not after having that fat cock in you. He definitely had ruined you for everyone else, including yourself. Nothing was ever going to feel the same again.

“Mmm. Looks so wet, sweetheart. Daddy wants a taste, is that okay?” Chan questioned, moving back onto his knees. You pulled your fingers out and tried not to cry at the loss.

“Please, daddy. Wanna cum in your mouth,” You slurred out, pushing his head towards you. He moaned into your pussy, taking his fat tongue and licking one wet stripe up your slit. He pulled your pussy back, exposing that throbbing clit to him, and placed one lick directly onto your button. "Fuck, daddy, feels so good! Suck it, please, suck it. I - please - need to cum so bad!"

“Need to cum, huh, sweetheart? I'll make your little pussy throb for me and then I'm putting my cock right back in that tight hole, where it belongs,” He spoke. He thrust two fingers into your slit, much thicker and longer than yours. You spread your legs, holding them up against your chest. You literally almost purred when he started moving his fingers, curling them up into that spot and sucking on your clit whilst he did so. It wasn't going to take long. The man was clearly amazing at every part of sex.

You focused on the feeling of his wet tongue rubbing up against your clit and writhed, feeling closer and closer to the edge. He knew what he was fucking doing. Your thighs started to shake, taking everything in you not to just let them go from your hold and clutch around Chan’s head. You wanted him to permanently live between your thighs. Your eyes clenched shut, a deep sigh leaving you.

“Fuck, I'm g’na cum,” You mumbled out, chest heaving and flushed a shade of crimson. Chan pulled away, causing you to whine. You pouted, reaching up to grab his shoulders. "No, no! You said I could. You said you would help me.”

“What I said was that I'd make it throb for you and then I'm sliding back right in here, sweetheart. Be good for daddy, you'll get to cum,” He positioned his length at your core again, sliding right back into home. You both moaned, and he was fucking you in a mating press this time, almost as if you were a couple in love. You wished you were, and realised this was definitely your favourite position so far. The man fucked like an animal and now he was fucking you like he was going to breed you, and you loved it. He reached down with one hand to rub your clit rapidly, trying to bring you to the edge. “This is my fucking pussy. My favourite fucking pussy, my only girl, the only pussy for me, okay?”

“Fuck!” You cried of overstimulation, hands still wrapped around your legs. “G’na... getting close again, gonna-”

“Cum then, sweetheart, flood my cock. Make a mess for me, come on, do it," Chris encouraged, breathing heavily next to your ear. His eyes were focused on where he was entering you over and over again, taking note of the white ring of slick that had formed around the base of his cock, soaking the hair that rested there. You scrunched your eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed with bliss. “That's it. That's my good girl.”

White hot ecstasy overtook your body. You wanted to squirm, but with the pressure of the muscular man on top of your body, you had nowhere to go. You focused on the feeling of his slick chest rubbing against your sensitive nipples, whining and moaning as the orgasm coursed through your body and made it feel like you were being electrocuted.

“Fucking clenching on my cock, shit,” Chan groaned, his hand falling away from your clit once your breathing had began to calm slightly. His hands went down to grab your hips, and before you knew it, he was lifting your hips up and fucking you senseless, treating you like a toy. “W-Wanted to be soft with you for our first time, sweetheart. I'm not normally like this, not at all, but this fucking pussy is driving me insane, fuck... I need to fill you up. Will you let daddy fill that pussy with my cum, sweetheart? Let me breed you, make you mine?”

You nodded quickly, unable to speak at this point. Your hole felt raw, sensitive and fucked open, but you needed his cum in you. You thought you might die if you didn't get it soon. His tip jabbed into your g spot incessantly, almost causing you to cum again, but you subconsciously knew you couldn't take another orgasm at the same level as the previous one. You might die.

“Fucking- g’na breed you, sweetheart. Gonna make you mine. G-Gonna give you a baby, g’na fill you up, fuck!”

With an animalistic growl, Chan’s head dropped to your neck, biting into the skin there and definitely leaving a mark. You felt his hips still and cum flooded out of the tip of his length, flooding your hole with a new sense of wetness. You sighed with content and laid there until Chan’s breathing calmed, his body weight fully on top of you and yet not uncomfortable.

“I have to be honest about something,” Chan sighed. You looked up at him from your position on his chest, and he looked down at you with an apprehensive look. He looked a lot shyer than he did moments before, when he was fucking you senseless and calling you a slut - he was blushing now, embarrassed. You were sure that’s what you liked about him. “You’re- it’s like you were made for me. I don’t know what the fuck to do, heh. I’m falling for you, I think.”

You blinked, leaning up to rest inches away from his face. Got him. You’d got him. “Well, that’s okay, Chan. You’re closer to my age anyway, right?”

6K notes · View notes

maeumi-jng · 3 months

Text

lipgloss and kisses

pairing: enhypen x gn!reader

synopsis: he watches you put it on and he loves to take it off.

warnings: fluff, skinship, suggestive-ish for hyung line except sunghoon, swearing, humour levels: bad, proof read ig

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

one word. impatient.

heeseung obviously thought you looked good with lip gloss. in fact he thought you looked good in anything. lip balm, lipstick, lip oil, whatever that was... the reason behind it wasn't the product, it was you.

you just had such kissable lips. he had always thought so. even before you got together. heeseung liked you so much to the point any time you'd bring out some lip balm, all his attention would be focused on your lips. it was a bit strange, he couldn't deny that. but heeseung also couldn't help that you were just so captivating. the care you took to put it on, ensuring nothing escaped the borders and if it had, the swipe of your finger that tugged those pretty lips down... god... it was a lot.

honestly, you spent a lot of money on lip products. the reason? heeseung.

that man was always kissing you. on the bus, during your night routine, before bed, when you wake up, when you cleaned the dishes together, after being a part for a mere half hour....

and it wasn't just a peck. no. it was like heeseung was consuming you're entire essence. he would be breathing heavily, hand supporting the back of your neck to bring your closer if possible, kissing you as if he had been waiting a lifetime to do so. small gasps would fall from your lips while he nibbled down slightly, tugging and pulling at what was purely swollen by this point.

you lost more product than you put on. take now for instance because this is how it played out every single time. especially in the case of your stupid lipgloss.

you were getting ready for the day, adding your final touches. heeseung, who was only half dressed, still sporting his sweatpants from the night, had his arms slung around your neck, chin nestling into your collarbone, being his usual clingy morning self as you began to apply your lipgloss.

heeseung, finally registering you were putting on the lip gloss, whispered in your ear. "come on, a little faster, baby."

"hee," you whined, cheeks beginning to burn already. this was it. you could barely get through putting anything on your lips without him urging you to hurry up so he could kiss you. "stop! i always have to reapply because of you. i'm not going to kiss you."

heeseung just smiled softly, leaving gentle kisses on your neck. you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to regain your focus. "why do you make this so difficult?" you mumbled, carefully applying the gloss to your bottom lip.

you could hear a huff of amusement slip out of heeseung's mouth. "you are one to talk... you know how i feel about your lips. yet you torture me every single day."

you suppressed your eye roll at your boyfriend's theatrics. "not my fault you're down so bad."

heeseung poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, now watching you finish up without a word to say.

you had barely put the wand down let alone in the tube when heeseung's hand gently travelled to your chin, turning your head slightly so he could duck down and bring his lips to yours.

your half-groan and half-squeal turned muffled. your grip around the applicator tightened as you fell victim to the very thing you had been trying to stop. not that you were trying hard or anything. the gasp you released when he nibbled down allowed him to make a mess of you, slipping his tongue in to mix with your own and dance with the rhythm of your heavy pants.

heeseung finally parted, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths. his finger tugged down your bottom lip, only little remnants of your lip gloss dotting it. he sighed with a small smile. "you were right. i am down bad."

jongseong

the first time jay saw you apply lipgloss in a mirror, he was hooked. he only had to see you do it once and the following day, he brought several lipglosses for you.

it was like a side quest for him. every time he gifted you anything, a lip gloss would be on the side. or when you were literally out for groceries, you'd find him in the cosmetics aisle and he'd turn to with a lipgloss on hand. grabbing your hand, he'd pull you closer to him and start to compare the lipgloss in the packaging to your lips. "hmm... i don't know... maybe the red one would be better."

as much as you loved it, you were beginning to complain once your draw began to fill up with several tubes of gloss, covering any other item you had in sight. what were you supposed to do with this much lipgloss? furthermore, they actually had a shelf life.... they expired.

when you brought this up to jay, he gave you the most careless shrug. "i'll just get new ones. besides, all you have to do is put them on. i'll just take it off."

oh?

oh.

jay would also be so fucking sulky if his favourite colour was changed or discontinued. it wouldn't be obvious at first but after finding out, he'd let out little sighs every time you applied a different colour and he'd keep on looking at the expiry date, wishing time would stop.

you did manage to find a dupe, however. and the moment jay saw it, he was over the moon. like thank god and the stars in heaven.

immediately he'd ask you to put it on. and who are you to deny your boyfriend's sweet request? so you opened it and applied the colour, conscious of jay's trailing eyes. the moment the wand went back into the tube, jay grabbed your face, examining your lips with the distance of a hairbreadth.

you felt warm in his grasp, feeling his thumb hover over your lips as if he were tracing them. a satisfied smile washed onto his face, the scrunch of his furrowed brows disappearing. he nodded. "beautiful."

your cheeks tinged with a heated flush. you couldn't help but just give him a long kiss on his lips, parting to find your colour imprinted on him. you grinned, imitating his own tone. "beautiful."

jay rolled his eyes, hand travelling to encircle your waist. your mouth dried at the sudden proximity and the intensity swirling in his brown eyes. "let me show you just how beautiful you are."

STAWPPP 😳🤭

jaeyun

babe. listen. jake will stop everything he's doing if it means getting to watch you put some lipgloss on. sure, there's lip balm. but lip balm is not as pretty as lipgloss is on you.

pretty sure he has a spidey sense for it as well. like at any given time, if he thinks you're about to put on some lipgloss, he'll run right towards you.

you'll be in your room and you got a package the other day. it was some new lipglosses that you wanted to try. jake is in the living room, headphones on full blast, but yet somehow he can hear you open the package he brought from your mailbox.

you've just picked a lipgloss to try on and jake is already dragging the ottoman in the corner of your room to your mirror. "jake? i– where did you come from?"

"i heard you open your package, so," jake shrugged.

you blinked blankly. your hand stretched out to lift the headphones hung around his neck with a finger. "you heard me? with these on? jake, they're noise cancelling."

"i should sue for false advertisement," jake nodded to himself before redirecting his attention to you. his wide eyes flickering back and forth between you and the lip gloss in your hands.

you sighed, shaking your head. you knew exactly what he wanted. he wasn't slick with it. you had caught him several times, purposely placing your lip glosses randomly everywhere. on your bed, on the kitchen counter, next to your phone, next to the sink... the list was endless.

jake intently watched you open the lipgloss, head leaning in naturally. the push of your hand towards him surprised him but he realised quickly that you were fulfilling the question lingering inside his head: the smell of the lipgloss. taking a quick whiff, he noted the feigned berry scent, reminiscent of the warm plum colour it had.

you pushed down your smile at the cute little nod jake did once he was satisfied. taking the wand back, you leaned into your mirror, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

out of your peripheral, you could see jake do the same, except his teeth were sinking into his bottom lip, far too focused on what you were doing.

his eyes trailed the tip of the applicator. the warm plum colour smeared softly against your pillowy lips, mostly sheer. it had small speckles of glitter from what jake could tell. as you rubbed your lips together, finally bringing in the entire coat, jake could tell he loved this gloss.

it looked amazing on you. or well, you made it look good.

you turned to him, wiggling your eyebrows. "what do you think?" you queried, jutting out your lips for him to see.

jake was at a lost for words. all he could do is grab your face with his hands and place his lips onto yours. your eyes widened at the sudden kiss before closing once you began to melt away at the pure fervour jake had within him. he was consuming you, attempting to get closer to you if he could and seizing any air around you.

you pulled yourself away, taking a big inhale of air. shit...

your eyes fell to the plum colour smudged across jake's lips. you were sure yours looked the same. you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat when a loose grin played on his face. "i love it."

sunghoon

to be honest, sunghoon had never thought about this. like ever. he had never seen it, never mind with someone he really liked, so it didn't really register for him. jake, the most clingy person he knows, talked about it all the time. he was already down bad but whatever this thing was with lipgloss, it had jake go feral. and sunghoon just didn't get it.

like bro, it's just lipgloss? like chill.

sunghoon understood the mundane things. like watching you tuck your hair behind your ears, the way you would chew down on your lip when you were concentrating on something, or the scrunch of your nose when you would squint. he would never admit it to you, or anyone for that matter, but he loved that shit.

this lipgloss thing? eh...

but then he saw it.

sunghoon never really pegged you for a lipgloss person. you were always complaining about your hair getting stuck in your lip balm, which resulted in your tucking your hair behind your ears (a win for him). so he just figured lipgloss wasn't in your kit.

but you two were getting ready for a lunch date and sunghoon saw you whip out the warm pink gloss while he put on his shoes. he forgot all about doing the laces... eyes honing on your lips through the mirror.

now that he had seen it, he couldn't stop looking. he understood it.

it was so intriguing.

the way you had to purse your lips and apply such a pretty colour. the way the light bounced off the shine, glittering occasionally. the care you took... the rubbing of your lips to smear the colour evenly... the little satisfactory nod and smile you sported when you saw yourself fully in the mirror...

fuck, he got it.

after finally finishing his shoes, sunghoon walked up to you, watching you turn around with a wide smile. you wiggled your eyebrows. "how do i look?" you asked, giving a small spin.

sunghoon smiled quietly, mind full of only your lips. he dipped his head down to your cheek, leaving a lingering kiss on the soft surface before pulling back. "pretty."

you smiled at his compliment, your own eyes looking him up and down, hand rubbing his chest gently. you stood on your toes, pressing a quick peck on his cheek as well. "you look pretty too."

your eyes widened at the shiny pink stain on his cheek. "aw shit," you cursed.

sunghoon raised a brow, looking at himself in the mirror. his body paused on the silhouette of your kiss on his skin. he could've sworn his heart was thundering in his chest while a wave of warm washed over him.

you grabbed a fresh wet wipe from your vanity, hand stretching out to wipe off the mark but sunghoon's hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you.

sunghoon gave a small smile at the confused expression swirling in your eyes. "leave it."

your eyes go big at his words. "b-b-but it's gonna be on your skin? it's so pink and so... obvious..." you told him, voice slowly turning into a whisper as his smile got bigger.

"it's okay," sunghoon murmured, grabbing this wipe out of your hand and resting it on the vanity before intertwining his fingers with yours. "i like it like that."

soft for this type of sunghoon 🥹🤭

seonwoo

listen, seonwoo is the motherfucker that would apply it for you.

don't get him wrong. he loves watching you put lipgloss on. he admired the way you got so into it, blocking out the rest of the world for a good three minutes to make sure you had applied it well. besides, you looked so pretty.

but one day, you broke out of your trance and caught seonwoo looking invested in it. the surprise he had when you offered him the wand and a lipliner was like no other. you thought he wanted to put it on which was fine with you. especially considering you were secretly the one who loved seonwoo's lips the most. so soft... so pillowy and plump, perfect for any lip product.

but much to your surprise, seonwoo shook his head no and asked is he could put it on you. the offer was so sweet, you immediately wiped off any product on your lip, not caring that it was technically a waste, and sat ready for him to apply it.

and now... it was like a daily ritual.

every morning, as the both of you got ready, you would both decide on a combo you would wear for the day. and you would sit in front of the window, on the floor, sun beaming down on you.

it normally took three minutes at most to line your lips and then fill it with lipgloss. but with seonwoo, it took a lot longer. the both of you got distracted to easily.

he'd be lining your lips, unaware of all the sweet whispers falling from his mouth. "you're so pretty, baby," "i didn't know it was possible for lips to be this cute." and adding the final touches of your gloss, he'd say, "i just want to kiss you so bad... every day."

and this was your breaking point.

screw the lipgloss.

you would always end the entire moment by grabbing his face to kiss him. you could feel the sticky gloss move onto him, his soft pillowy lips absorbing all the colour and sparkles.

seonwoo would also get into it, pushing himself closer into your touch, making the kiss deeper as his craving for you expanded. his hands, free of the liner and gloss, would crawl up your neck, getting tangled in your hair. his eye would be completely shut, letting himself melt into you entirely.

the whole gloss thing always left seonwoo on fire. like he just couldn't wait to kiss you again and again.

you would leave the kiss by placing kisses across his jaw and kisses. practically adorning his skin in your marks while your hands fisted the end of his shirt.

you'd both spent the next ten minutes trying to wipe off the marks with wet wipes, talking and laughing about how maybe the lipgloss should be left to you, only for seonwoo to get sulky about it, refusing the proposition entirely. he was going to put your lipgloss on. even if it only resulted in it coming off.

you didn't mind though. seonwoo knew that deep down you'd wake up the next day and do it all over again just to kiss him again. because that's exactly what he wants.

jungwon

jungwon is another one who doesn't really get it. he's just so caring and romantic that he revels in the simplicity of romance.

he likes that you're the first text he sees everyday, even when you're right next to him. or when you walk around in his clothes... hoodies, matching bracelets, and keychains. when he checked on you to make sure you had eaten and to see how you're day had been going. his favourite, however, was your random urge to poke his dimples. it always made him break out into a shy smile which you teased him for.

these simple things... they kept him going.

but then came the lipgloss his sister had gifted you for your birthday. you were a big fan of tinted lip balms, he knew that. he always pretended to gape at your drawer full of them because he knew you'd end up hitting him in the arm, annoyed by his teasing.

this lipgloss, however, was truly one of a kind. it was packed with some of the prettiest glitter jungwon had ever seen. to be honest, jungwon should've thanked his sister when he saw you first apply it the next day.

you were out having a picnic. everything was just right. the sun, the comforting breeze, and the warmth of your head resting on jungwon's lap, while music softly played from your phone.

as you were resting on jungwon's lap, eyes closed and absorbing the peaceful atmosphere, you suddenly remembered you had brought along his sister's present. jungwon, who was spending most of this tranquility staring at you and combing his hand through your hair, had a mini heart attack when you suddenly opened your eyes and were lunging towards your bag.

his sharps brows furrowed at your rummaging. "what are you looking for, baby?"

your tongue hung out of the corner of your mouth. "uh," you failed to respond, trying to find the tube that you apparently had misplaced so easily in your bag. "ah! got it!" you cheered, feeling the smooth tube enter your hand.

jungwon watched as you grabbed your phone as well and went back to laying on his lap. you slid your phone to the camera, turning it so it faced you. placing the butt of the lipgloss tube in your mouth, you expertly twisted out the applicator and moved the tube between your fingers to apply the product.

the whole scene was some sort of alluring contraption to jungwon. the dexterity of your fingers surprised him but nothing surprised him more than his sudden fixation on your lips. the way you applied the warmish red in thin sheer coats across your soft lips, letting the sun capture every single speckle of glitter in it.

you were radiating.

you checked yourself in your phone before putting it down. you looked up at jungwon's staring eyes and pursed your lips. "thoughts?"

jungwon remained silent for a second, internally contemplating. but, nevertheless, a sigh slipped out of his mouth before he pressed his lips to yours. the peck was momentary before he pulled back. "i think it's pretty."

a flush of heat travelled down your cheeks. "jungwon," you whined, jutting out your lip, only increasing his urge to kiss you again. "you took like half of it off."

jungwon grinned, dimples popping out, making you instinctively poke them with your finger. his lipgloss coated lips pressed a brief kiss on the side of your finger. "i also think i'm going to have to buy you some more lipglosses."

riki

an interesting sort of impatience.

from the moment you started wearing lipglosses or he watched you put on your lip balm, riki was fixated on the act. he always pretended like he didn't care because for him it was slightly embarrassing. to be affected by something so simple, that is.

he never tries to enforce you like some people might by putting lipglosses everywhere or buying you them specifically. riki liked when it happened naturally and every so often.

on the occasion, maybe you were getting ready or you were testing out a new colour, he'd watch you out of the corner of his eye. patiently waiting for you to apply. why? it was simple because he wanted to come off.

he couldn't really grasp it. there was just this sort of annoyance that you had when riki smudged the gloss so it escaped the confines of your lips... and riki adored your reaction to it.

you'd always get slightly heated. whining and purposely trying to move away from him so you could apply it in peace. only for him to follow you out, resulting in you being chased around the house.

that was what he was impatient for. that very specific intimacy between you two. as mentioned, he enjoyed the natural occurrence of it. he could never make it happen. it just happened. and when it did, it would set the mood for the rest of the day.

like today.

you were already cautious the moment you saw riki walk into the bathroom in your peripheral. riki would raise his arms in defence. "i'm just looking for my cologne," he'd say, "i put it somewhere here because jake was hounding me for some.

you narrowed your eyes, silently turning back to the mirror and returning to your application. riki was next to you, pretending to rummage through the bathroom drawers. you can't miss the way he slowly rises up from drawers, his eyes fixated on your lips through the mirror.

by the last swipe of your lipgloss, you can already feel and see riki leaning in to mess it up. "nope!" you said, immediately retracting yourself from the bathroom counter, rushing to walk out of the room.

riki was hot on your tail. "oh come on... i'm not doing anything. i just want to spend time with you. is that so bad?" he asked, amusement underlying his voice.

you turned to him, now walking backwards out into the living room. "yes. it is bad when you have that look in your eyes."

riki stepped towards you, eyebrows pulled together in a feigned confusion. "what look?"

"that one. like you're going to eat me or something," you pointed accusingly.

riki rested his hands on his hips, standing in front of you with a slight tilt to his head. he clicked his tongue. he spoke with a nonchalant tone. "because i am."

the moment you see him take a step forward, you're off. you fell into a maze, running around your furniture which riki just inches behind you. you made it to your bedroom, in fits of laughter by this point and about to shut the door on his face.

but you're just a bit too slow.

riki's hand stretched out, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into him. you squirmed in his grip while he shifted the both of you to the bed with a soft thud.

"riki," you complained despite the wide smile etching on your face. your head fell to his chest, hair falling around your ears to cover your flushed skin.

a hum fell from his lips as riki's eyes flickered over your face, hand reaching out to push your hair behind your ears after he tilted your face back up. the action seized all the air around you. at least that's what you thought by the feel of your mouth drying.

"i got you," riki quietly teased, grinning at you.

you snapped out of your trance and rolled your eyes. you hit his chest playfully, a soft laugh following after. "let me go."

riki blinked at you, head leaning in towards you. you could feel his hot breath glide past your face. one would think your heart is in your ears by the sound of how loud it is. lips a mere millimetre away from yours, he whispered, "never."

#maeumi-jng #maeumi jng’s library — enhypen bookshelf ♡︎#enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #jay x reader #heeseung x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen headcannons

4K notes · View notes

marycorcaroli · 8 months

Text

♡ nsfw headcanons for my boys ♡

♡ english is not my first language, i apologize for the mistakes. ♡

luffy

— luffy is a whore for you. he doesn't see anything wrong with it, he will moan louder than you (canon) just because he feels so good inside you, he won't miss a moment to say it to you for the millionth time, luffy wants you to know that he doesn't use you just for your body, there is a special intimacy between you.

— he doesn't mind getting on his knees for you and licking you for hours, he just likes the taste of you and it relaxes him. luffy buries his face in your cunt and moans loudly. he also wants you to sit on his face and ride his nose, the fact that your juices will be on his face will make him cum in a second, speaking of which. licking you, luffy can cum just because his tongue is in you.

—he will touch and massage your nipples, put his fingers in your mouth to wet them, and then touch your breasts with the same fingers.

— i don't think he has a very fast pace. the first few times, he will be gentle and sensitive, but after that, girl, you are in hell of endless orgasms!!! he won't stop for a second(unless you ask him to), he wants you to cum together and kiss at that moment(canon).

— daddy king 100%, breeding king and overstimulation = luffy.

zoro.

— zoro will hold your hands during sex always, he doesn't care what position you're in, his palms will always find yours and hold them to increase your overall trust so you know he's still here and loves you dearly.

— A HUGE DICK AND IT'S A FACT. it's so big i'm afraid it might tear you up from its size, but it's also very beautiful. zoro will thrust into you to make you feel him fully and is sure to ask "can you feel me here, honey?" when his hand is on your stomach and his cock is deep inside you.

— the sloppiest when it comes to nipple sucking, he'll leave all his drool on your breasts and leave hickeys around your breasts because he's crazy about them. he'll most likely cum on your breasts and smear his cum all over them.

— will suck on your already swollen clit until you beg him to stop and push him, either way, he's a fan of overstimulation.

— will pull your hair and watch your back arch and your eyes roll with pleasure.

— size king, unprotected sex, prise kink, biting kink.

sanji.

— sanji will make you get on your knees and suck his cock forever. he won't fuck your mouth much at first, but if he sees that you like it, he won't leave you alone. without fail, he will cum in your mouth and then kiss you deeply afterward to make you feel yourself.

— not against the idea of tying your hands so you can't touch him and begging him to untie you. blindfold you so you don't know what he's going to do next and sanji can play his game.

— his hands are always on your body, his lips are always on your lips, and his cock is always deep inside you. that time when he thrusts roughly into you and your lips touch in a tender kiss will make him see the brightest stars.

— really loves playing with your nipples and won't stop until you cum from it.

— he wants to cum deep inside you and see you pregnant, he's probably always wanted that. you walk around with his baby inside you, your tummy is so cute, he gets turned on by the idea in SECONDS.

— loves rough sex anywhere but has a kink for the shower and kitchen.

— the ultimate pervert.

5K notes · View notes

dabisbratz · 5 months

Text

𝒮𝒲𝐸𝐸𝒯 𝒯𝒪𝒪𝒯𝐻 — shouta aizawa x male reader

w.c: 12.4k

warning: dbf!shouta, age gap, (sho in his early 40s, reader is 23), bottom!reader, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, feminization, mentions of gettin ‘knocked up’ regardless of anatomy, sneaking around, creampie, unprotected sex ( wear condoms ! ), praise/degradation, brat!reader, jealousy, mutual teasing, reader has an oral fixation, improper use of lollipops, mentions of exhibitionism, blowjobs, cumming untouched/hands free orgasm, ‘ taboo ’

sonny says..: not proof read, msorry !! did lotsa jumpin around while writin this. . . n five months later !! she’s all done !! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝T ˘ T⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ ♡ m’a lil rusty, forgive me !!

You’re back home for the summer.

Well— not entirely. You’re back at your family’s summer house for the season. Gifted from your grandparents, it teeters at the beginning of a beach, crystal sands and clear, blue waters that stretch out into the horizon. You’ve been looking forward to it since you’d graduated, even if it did come with a set of overbearing parents and a sinful amount of sunscreen.

The air is hot and thick, sticking uncomfortably to your skin through the windshield as you watch an everlasting stretch of greenery and trees pass you by. The road has stretched on for miles, every upcoming exit and street sign blending into one as each hour passes by. You’ve got the company of staticky radio stations and news outlets, spewing something nonsensical about sports, politics, car insurance. . . But it’s the trip you enjoy more than the destination. Traffic and all, you prefer it over the muggy air and parental scolding. Though, the beach is nice. . .

“You’re sure you’re taking the right route?” It’s your mother speaking, her voice crackling through the speakers of your car. You’re sure she’d smack you upside the head for the aggressive roll of your eyes in her. . . general direction, but she’s not exactly within eye-contact distance. Not for another five minutes, anyway.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” You have— it’s true. Though you’re only twenty-two, you’d driven this distance since you’d left for college. There’s a sound akin to the sucking of teeth through the radio, and you have half the mind to turn around and restart your road-trip all over again.

“Why’s there so much attitude in your voice?” Her cheerful, smiley voice suddenly sounds much more shrill, to your chagrin. You thrum your fingers along the leather of the steering wheel, biting back a long, drawn out groan.

“There isn’t any,” Gravel crackles under the weight of your rubber-tire car, snapping and popping into the air as it makes a smooth halt into the driveway. Shifting gears to park, the radio switches off with the twist of your keys. And, perhaps with more force than necessary, you’re slamming the door to your car and face to face with your mother. Her phone is still in hand, eyebrows pinched at the thought of her very own son hanging up on her. “. . . attitude, Ma.”

She hugs you with a squeal, ushering you up the stairs to your childhood ‘home.’ It’s almost exactly like you’d left it— save for a few recent porch decorations and repainted walls. You hope the years have been kind to it, with the irregular weather and constant pipe problems. Floorboards creak under your weight, welcoming you home after a few long years of studies. There’s an everlasting stream of bubbly speech behind you, your mom speaking, but there’s already so much to take in.

The air is fresh and salty, hints of beachy winds flowing upstream through the doorway. It smells like home, and looks like it too, as you situate your small duffel bag by the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. Your room. You hadn’t packed much— there was still a dresser overflowing with old clothes in your bedroom, after all. And now that you think about it, you should probably change into something more fitting for the weather.

“I know you just got here,” The sound of ice swirling against glass catches your attention, and you turn to face your mother. “But could you bring these out to your father?” She’s holding a tray of decorative glasses— or at least, you’d always thought they were— full of oblong ice and freshly squeezed lemonade. The glasses are stocky enough to adorn lollipops— one each, which are probably sickeningly sour. Topped with tiny, colorful umbrellas and intricate swirling straws. It’s almost like she’s trying to impress someone, with the way she’s put so much effort into the drink’s presentation.

Your lips curl to form a playful ‘no’, a boyish smile pulling at your cheeks when she huffs— as if she already knows what you’re about to do. So you shake your head instead, stealing the tray with one hand, “Let me change first.”

In hindsight, wearing clothes about. . four years too small wasn’t a great idea. The shorts that once fit you perfectly— before your growth spurt— are now much too short, like they’ve been tossed around in the laundry one too many times. You feel almost naked, moving the pink hem down with the shake of your legs.

Your mother insists they look just fine, a dramatic downturn to her lips as she rambles on and on about how fast her boy has grown up. Still, as you walk through the sliding glass doors parallel to the open patio, the sunlight bathing your legs does nothing but make you feel stuck under a rapidly growing spotlight.

It all clicks as you walk outside— the detailed drinks, the smell of barbecue and fresh coal. There is someone she’s trying to impress, someone other than your father. Maybe both of them. On a good day.

Wiping the bead of sweat from your brow, your eyes squint at the man in front of you. Around your dad’s age— maybe slightly younger, he stands at a whopping six foot something. There’s age in his face, and worry between his brows as if he’d spent most of his youth grimacing. His hair is long and black like charcoal, save for a few streaks of gray and a salt and pepper ensemble of stubble littering his chin and jaw. Two scars— forming a cross of sorts, one beneath his right eye, horizontal and thin. But the other is much longer, starting below his brow and ending at his cheekbone. It draws your eyes to a milky gray iris— heavily contrasting against the natural black-brown of his left one. It’s pretty, cloudy and almost pearlescent.

His silhouette— tall and thick, with broad shoulders that travel on and on as he crosses thick biceps over his thick chest. He’s standing in the way of the sun, and yet, it peeks through his long hair in small, short leaks. And, surprisingly, his waist is small in his black tank top. If you feel hot he must be scorching, draped in black— down to the beaded bracelet adorning his wrist. His hands— they’re big, maybe enough to cover the entirety of your face, curled into loose fists at his biceps.

And— right, you’re here to help, not gawk. But you can’t help it, shifting your weight from one leg to another as his intimidating gaze slowly sweeps you over. He’s like sex on legs, and if you can squint enough to get the sun out your eyes, you swear you can see the imprint of his cock through his black shorts.

“Uh,” You blink dumbly after introducing yourself, and suddenly the tray you’re holding is weightless. “Ma made these. I’m supposed to help. . . or something. . .”

“Or something.” The man echoes, but it’s quiet and you barely catch it. His voice is deep, way deeper than your own, rumbling in your ears and smooth like butter. Almost husky, with a dark edge to it as flames roar in his face. But it makes your father laugh, hearty and jubilant as he bounces over to where you stand. He gives you a small pat on the back as a greeting, ushering out a small, “son.”

The heat emitting off the grill is enough to make a grown man cry, but neither of you wince when you walk by it. Cold glasses of lemonade are handed out, fingers imprinted on cold condensation painting the surfaces of each glass as they’re passed around— one for you, one for your dad, another for him. You watch rivulets of water drip from his fingertips, down his wrist, past the collection of veins adorning his forearm.

“Mr. Aizawa,” There’s a beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled once you’ve been introduced. “World’s cruelest teacher.”

“Shouta Aizawa.” Is all he says, a correction of sorts, voice grumbly as his fingertips brush against your knuckles. Your eyes flicker down to where he’d touched you, his skin warm and inviting despite the roughness of his palms. You see now, that he’s accompanying your father, occasionally taking over when he walks back into the house every. . . five minutes or so.

“An old friend of mine, we go way back.” Your parents have an odd habit of rambling, it seems, because you and the handsome stranger make exasperated eye contact as your dad begins to reminisce on old memories. “You met him a few times— remember? He’ll be staying with us, so be respectful, you hear me?” His gaze seems to dip for a moment, down your lips and straight to the extra exposed skin of your thighs, then settle back to the ocean before you can comment.

But those five minutes must start now, because after a firm squeeze to your shoulder your father heads inside, leaving you alone with his. . . friend. He’s awfully quiet, busying himself as the patio door slides shut— occasionally sighing as he wipes away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. It’s obvious you’re staring, maybe a bit too hard, but he’s the best scene around, really. Even with the beach right behind him.

And maybe it’s wrong to think this way— but he’s hot. Old enough to be your dad and then some, sure, but it doesn’t make him any less attractive. He almost makes you nervous, the slow blink of his eyes as he pays you no mind.

“So you’re staying with us, huh?” You eye the juicy meat he’s been flipping for the last five minutes, golden brown and sizzling in the heat. It’s rather thick, soon to be lazily flattened by the tongs he's holding and— you can’t help but wonder. . . Is he good with his hands?

“Don’t make a habit of asking strange old men questions like that.” It’s not entirely clear if he’s serious or not, but he’s certainly assertive. Like a firm, guiding hand placed at the nape of your neck. Your eyebrows pinch in confusion, but before you can ask what he means, it clicks. You’d said it out loud, let it float into the air like an everyday, casual question. But Aizawa doesn’t seem exactly bothered, more passive (if anything), as he takes a swig of the fruity, sour concoction.

“You’re not strange.” Is what you conclude, slamming the tray down hard enough to rattle its contents, and the man notes your lack of regard. Even with a slight spill you don’t bother to clean, you’re already turning to walk off the patio and dig your toes into the hot sand before it can be mentioned— but not without plucking a lemon coated lollipop free from its icy enclosure of glass. There’s an arrangement of seashells hidden beneath the coarse mounds of the glimmering seaside. Different sizes and colors, different textures and shapes. Where some would scrape the soles of your feet, others would glide across them. But as a kid you’d liked the search for tiny crabs much more than the search for shells. Though you’re much older now, you’re not afraid to say you miss it.

“But I’m old?” Aizawa says, not too far behind you from where he stands. There’s a light glint of dry humor in his voice that sends butterflies down your throat and straight into your stomach.

“Yeah. Old enough.” Your small laughter is sweet, dancing in the air in a way that has Shouta nearly pressing his palm flat into the skillet— just to check if his heart is still beating. What do you mean by that, anyway?

There’s a divot where the tightness of your shorts dip into your skin, pressing against the plush skin of your ass whenever you bend over. Even as you’re upright, Shouta can’t stand to look for too long— you’re a real, proper, honest and genuine distraction. Yet here he is, watching you move around on your hands and knees, ass taut and round— shorts tight enough to show off the cute bulge of your balls from behind. And now that he’s really looking, it’s obvious you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He shakes his head, grunting to himself as he peels processed cheese free from its plastic packaging. You just met, that’s not right, you’re simply just minding your own.

“Ugh!” You share a groan, and for completely different reasons. Aizawa can’t help but watch you scramble in the sand, presumably after whatever sea-creature that had the pleasure to pinch you right on the finger. But you seem happy once it’s retrieved, stuck in the seclusion of its tiny shell as you hold it in your palm. From what he can see, you’re not much of a brat at all. Maybe your parents are just too hard on you. He’s always known them to be dramatics.

Still, he has half the mind to drag you over by your ankle, or maybe to press your handsome face into the sand while he fucks you from behind. Ever since you’d brought out that damned lemonade— tugging on the hem of the fabric as if you’d suddenly grown conscious of just how short they were— he’d been hard. And now he has to listen to you grunt and groan over the smallest of injuries. . . His best friend’s son, his presumed pride and joy.

He’s fucked.

From where he stands, slightly elevated, he can see the bulge of the sweet protruding from your cheeks, stuck afore your teeth. Cute, as it swishes from side to side, stuck in your mouth as your occupied fingers caress the diaphanous shell in the palm of your hand. Your lips move, puckered, around the sucker, curled and glossy with molten sugar— it’s hard to make out exactly what words your mouth forms, yet Shouta doesn’t think he’d be able to listen anyway.

Turns out the creature was a hermit crab.

Shouta learns this at dinner, the day’s hard work shared on plastic platters and glass

bottles in the middle of the beach. There’s a roaring flame between the four of you, it casts golden embers along your skin every so often, crackling into the air. Cicadas chirp with the night’s welcome, loud and joyful in retaliation to the silent, serene fireflies and settling ocean.

You’re all sipping on beers, some more than others, but it’s enough to loosen everyone up. Even Shouta, whose eyes look lidded with sleep the more he drinks. He’s not incoherent, he never is. If anything he’s observant. For one, you have an awful habit of holding onto this evening’s lollipop, it seems, as you have it situated between your fingers like a cigarette. Sometimes your grip around it tightens, like when your mother wraps her hand around his bicep, squeezing the flesh in small, sporadic rounds. And though neither of you want to say it, let alone think it— you’re jealous. That’s the second thing.

Even with Shouta’s knee brushing against your own, you can’t help it. He’s so warm, muscly legs pressed against your own in a manner that’s almost electrifying. You want it all to yourself, to suffocate in his heat and capable hands.

You zone out of the conversation, blinking at the fire with reserved eyes until a thick screwer pokes at the flesh of your shoulder, leaving behind a tiny dimple. Jet black hair invades your vision for a moment, smelling of faint seasalt and warm cologne, until you turn, “What?”

“You want chocolate on your marshmallow, right?” Your mother asks for him, squeezing a transparent bag of thick, soft marshmallows. It’s tossed to you in a flash, to which you catch, but not before stealing a glance at the man beside you. His jaw sets, poking out from the mass of stubble. Like she’d stolen a precious moment away.

“Right,” You mumble, stabbing the skewer through the excessive amount of sugar. The stick hovers above the fire, the sweet melting to a crisp, flaky brown. Sticky and gooey, it slowly begins to lose its form. Through all the conversation you can’t help but glance at the older man to your left, taking in the glow of yellow and orange caressing his tan skin. His silhouette is bold and broad, legs spread wide as he sits on a thick log. What was once brown turns a deep, dark charcoal. “Oh, shit! Fuck. I meant shoot, sorry.”

You’re not supposed to swear in front of your parents— Aizawa’s paternal intuition picks that up. But shoving the marshmallow into your mouth, even as it has yet to cool down, he doesn’t quite get. Either way, your expression. . . it’s sickeningly cute. It’s cute to watch you fumble. With lips pursed into a tight line, cheeks bitten and eyebrows pinched with apology despite how obviously uncomfortable you are with the piping, burnt sugar spreading along your tongue.

His heart could almost burst.

“You’re fine, kid.” Shouta’s voice is a gentle whisper, airy like the waves brushing against the shore. With his eyes caught on the sticky white lingering on your cheek, he's desperately aware you’re not a kid. The way you move and speak, the way you carry yourself. The way you suck on lollipops like they’re something else. He’s never been one for dirty jokes or subtle innuendos but. . . yeah, this is doing something to him. His fingers twitch with want, the desire to wipe it away and rub his thumb along your lips. He should really get it together.

And maybe the fact that he’s more worried about your parents being in the way than the fact that they’re your parents proves that.

But they’re pretty preoccupied, lost in conversation neither of you are exactly interested in. Whirling his own marshmallow, chocolate melts down its fluffy outside. It’s steaming, hot and fluffy after twirling around the fire. Looking at it now, it looks comically small in his large hands, much bigger than your own. His lips part, cool air leaving the ‘o’ shaped mold of his mouth as he blows on it with a low, “Here.”

There they go again, mouth open as your pink tongue covers your row of bottom teeth, Shouta doesn’t let go of the skewer despite the light squeezes you press along his knuckles. Instead he holds on tighter, lifting and reaching until the desert melts in your mouth and sticks to your lips. Messy on purpose, your heart plummets into your tummy when dark eyes watch marshmallow fluff pull away from between your teeth. Hungry, starving.

“I can do it myself.” You mumble, wondering if the heat prickling your skin is from the brush of his fingers against your own or the wilting fire.

“Can you?” His expression is tired and flat, but his voice tilts with blooming amusement. It’s odd, the way you’re so quick to shut him down. You almost respond more openly when you hear sneaky comments or listen to gossip— ‘that boy just doesn’t know what to stop,’ ‘why’s he such a smartass?’ — spoken about you directly by you.

“Yeah,” There’s a shine in your eye that isn’t just a product of the glowing fire. Mischievous, almost. “I don’t break that easily.”

Shouta could definitely take your dad in a fight. It’s the first thing that pops into mind as the two of you stand in the dark, dimly lit kitchen. Your parents had gone off to bed almost an hour ago, and with the clock approaching half past midnight, it leaves you two alone. So, yes, he’s considering who would win in a brawl because he can’t stop staring at his best friend’s son and his pretty, kissable lips.

They’re sheen with spit, your pink tongue licking them over as you scrub away yesterday’s dirt from the kitchen counter. It’s a noncommittal motion, your arms wiping suds and heavy contents of water along the granite surface. Yet you seem absolutely dead-set on getting that one stain. The stain that has your ass brushing against his side, bare skin rippling the harder, lazier, you scrub. Not that there’s even a stain to clean.

Yep. He’s fucked.

You suppose he should be focusing on the dishes— not that there’s much of those either— but his attention strays.

It carries him through the motion of leaning over, his body practically draping your own as you bend at the waist. Black hair again, wisps of it, lightly pressed against your back as he leans down, lips by the shell of your ear and an arm trapping you in. His cock is pressed right against the swell of your ass, and he may have to consider slipping it between his waistband.

“I think you got it.”

“Oh, really?” Your hips are moving again, side to side as you scrub shapes into nothing. “Double check for me?”

A low groan sounds behind you, big hands at your thighs that squeeze enough to have the plush skin bruised and tender in the morning. His hand travels, snaking up your thighs to meet the silky skin of your ass. Spread nicely with the way you’re bent over, warmth radiating off each globe as his thick pointer finger loops around the thin layer of pink cotton pressing against your balls.

It’d be so easy, perfect access to slip his thick cock into the warm, tight walls of your hole and pound you against the counter. You could sit on his dick for the whole day, drooling and dumb the more the head kisses your prostate again and again and again. Your Daddy could fuck you on your dad’s favorite sofa, make it squeal and whine under the weight of him filling your fucked-out and used cunt over and over.

Dark pupils blow wide as he pulls the fabric away, watching your hole flutter around nothing. He coos, sweet and deep. Just give him a minute, he’ll give you everything you need. Everything and more, until you’re a braindead fucktoy with glassy eyes and sticky, dripping holes. Until—

You’ve slipped past his arm, twisting as your growling stomach makes itself known. You inhale a quivering breath through your nose, eyes wide and expecting and waiting. His best friend’s son, wriggling and writhing under his palms, handsome face twisting as pearly teeth bite at your stout bottom lip.

He’s almost frustrated with himself, voice flat and distant when you puff out your cheeks. Forget a distraction— you’re a real, honest brat. “You’re still hungry.”

“I’m a growing man, Sho.” It’s almost consequential how your voice cracks, breathy and teetering the edge of a whine as he releases his grip on your body. Light from the fridge illuminates your silhouette in a yellow, halo-adjacent glow, and once again Shouta is staring a little too hard at his best friend’s son as he bends forward at the waist.

Aizawa weighs the juxtaposition between the middle of that sentence for a moment before his breath catches in your throat. Sho. You’d called him by a nickname, ten times sweeter than the candied fruit (grapes, are they?) you’re now sinking your teeth into. You’ve grown alright, and the proof stands hard, throbbing, and pressing against your shorts once you’ve returned to face him. It’s obvious your ploy with the fruit was just something to keep your mind off cumming in your cute, soft shorts— but he’d honestly have preferred to see that.

“I can see that.”

Rough palms press into your jaw— firm, but not aggressive, until fingers close and clasp at your cheeks. A dissolving layer of baby fat at your cheeks spills between his stern fingers, and you blink as the older man turns your face from left to right, then reverse. Seems he’s got a nasty habit of looking you over, breaking you down— bare bones. You still have enough room to chew, teeth grinding on the crystallized sugar with a hard and resounding crunch.

There’s always something in your mouth.

Dark eyes flicker to the lump appearing and disappearing in your throat as you swallow, sweet sugar dotting your lips, “You’re hard.”

“Yeah,” It earns a dark chuckle, though there’s not much light humor in it, “So are you.” His lips curl as he releases his grip, slow and lingering.

“Usually,” your gaze drops to his lips. “When two men,” Then up to his deep, dark eyes as you press against him, chest to chest. His cock twitches against the heat of your body, you can imagine it now— thick and pretty, curved upward with a sticky head and throbbing, heavy veins. “Make eachother. . . hard, they—”

A door slams upstairs, the air going still as your breath catches in your throat. As if that single disturbance has stolen all the oxygen in the world, your body goes rigid and stiff, and the sound of tired steps make their way descending down wooden stairs. The candied grapes are swapped for thick fingers, with light peppers of hair at the knuckles, and you can’t help but suck the seasalt right off.

“Behave.” He takes a single step back, dripping with indubitable authority that makes you feel light and airy. Ready to bend at his will with lazy eyelids and hazy eyes. It’s not a question, not a suggestion— it’s a demand.

“You’re still up,” Your father, shameless as he walks by the two of you with barely any coverings, makes a sleepy gesture in your general direction as he opens the fridge. “Both of you, huh?” He sounds faintly out of breath, and his skin sheen. The mental implications make you cringe, taking a step toward the characteristically nonchalant man who’d just stepped away from you.

Shouta’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t tell me I’m being replaced!” He’s always been a loud man, your father, but it seems tonight his one-too-many beers have finally caught up to him. It’s just a joke, the both of you know it, but you can’t help the prickle of heat poking at your throat. You’re pulled in by the back of your head, your father’s hand pressed against your hair as he holds you in a firm side-hug, “Rather Mr. Aizawa be your old man?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Your smile is wide and tantalizing, heavy and dripping with something that has yet to be named. “Are you a good Daddy, Mr. Aizawa?”

Then, his eye twitches, “When I want to be.”

Your laugh is instantaneous and loud, an awkward thing that stretches into deep silence. There’s a lot of things you’d like Mr. Aizawa to be— rough, gentle, sweet, and mean. But your dad? It’s laughable, and couldn’t be farther from the truth. And sure, maybe the title you'd like to use on him sounds similar, but they’re most definitely not the same. If only he knew.

“I’m sure you’re the best,” He watches you smile, opposite ends of your mouth pulling at your cheeks in a motion that doesn’t quite meet your eyes— but it’s convincing enough. “Better than your other friends, right Dad?”

Shouta is avoiding you.

You know it, you can tell! He’s always gone nowadays— a couple weeks into your vacation and you can only count a mere handful of the times you remember seeing him. You’ve barely talked, barely stole a few glances here and there— he may as well have disappeared. He’s out somewhere, somewhere that involves your father, and the ocean, and his generously sized deck-boat. You don’t want to say it, but you know you’re the reason why. You’ve gone a bit overboard, perhaps, with the flirting. Ever since that night— even before then, it’d become a natural habit of yours to call the man Daddy.

And, now, he’s grown even closer to your parents because of it. Whenever you come down for breakfast they’ve already finished, leaving your plate in the microwave— as if you’d want cold, limp eggs and soggy, get charred bacon. You want to scream, really. There’s your mother, who leaves lingering touches and bats her eyelashes like some sort of schoolgirl. You feel almost evil for the rage that sears your blood— even more so when your first thought is she’s pushing fifty.

Then there’s your father. Who is and always will be, not if you can help it, closer to Shouta than you ever will be. They drink together a lot, the guest more in moderation, but it still hurts to see them laugh about old times— over, and over, and over again. Even when you’re the topic of conversation, despite your presence being completely ignored, it hurts. You’re right here.

So you mope, lounging around in your swim trunks. Your skin sticks to every surface, humid and thick as your mother complains to you about getting some sun, stepping out the house, then something about how you need to fix the look on your face. She says the warm rays on your skin will do you some good, the salty water of the sea against your body will toughen up your bones and loosen your muscles. But there’s really only one thing on your mind.

It trickles into about an hour and a half when Mr. Aizawa finally comes back. Your father too, you suppose, with flushed cheeks that only sake can replicate. It’s once you’ve been pulled outside and forced to stand in wet, thick sand that washes away from your feet with every sweep of the shore— that they return. Once the sun has begun to set, yet still bright enough to have your brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, they return.

“There’s my boy!” No one’s boy, actually. Your father shouts with an intoxicated wave, and the grimace on Shouta’s face is hidden behind his whipping hair as he slows the boat to a stop.

Or at least, you think so. It’s hard to see with the sun in your eyes, yellow and orange flakes of the gold star percolating your vision.

It dances along the surface of the ocean, pretty and shimmering the closer you step, the further you go, until you’re submerged in water from your knees—down. There’s a shout, something akin to a ‘catch!’, and you have barely any time to react to the ball that’s flying to you with an oddly precise amount of speed and velocity. You gasp, whipping your head back to catch the ball between two sea-soaked hands.

“What the hell?!” Your hands sting, pretty eyes blinking back at the two silhouettes in your vicinity. Mainly at Aizawa, who hasn’t even acknowledged you, let alone looked away from the resplendent horizon. And what’s so good about that? Of all things to look at— you’re right here! You don’t leave with the setting sun, nor do you only ever arrive with the rising one. You’re a constant, and you know you don’t hurt to look at.

So you throw the ball back, all your force behind it with a smug look on your face until it smacks Shouta in the leg— right in the center of his calf with a horrifying thump of a sound.

“Fuck,” You shout in horror, despite it all. Despite the desire to maul him the last few weeks, rushing forward into the water with the cutest tremor to your brows. “Fuck, okay, shit, my bad!”

And it seems you can’t move fast enough to wade through the rippling waves, where schools of tiny, nipping fish and textured shells had twirled and danced about through the currents of pellucid water. But Shouta seems just fine, almost as if he’d forgotten how to react to the feeling of getting punted with a ball at full force. He picks it up, waves it in his large palm, and throws it back. You can hear it tear through the air, just as it smacks you in the shoulder with so much force you don’t register it at first.

Numbness spreads along your arm, eyes blinking up at the older man who laughs. It’s quiet yet hearty, and not at all a pretty sound. It’s more contagious if anything, a wheeze of sorts, but your lips still curl into a petty frown regardless. You can make out a huff of “Your face!” broken up with laughter, biting back on his tongue.

“I’m not laughing.” You grumble, rubbing at your shoulder with faux diligence.

There’s an eerie smile on his face, enough to send shivers down your spine as water drapes your face and drips down your body— boat engine revving with ferocity as the men float off into the boarding dock— Aizawa’s presence arrives just as fast as it leaves.

You’re left to your devices, gawking as you process the last few minutes— his smile, your brattiness and stupidity, the way you’d only just noticed his prosthetic leg— at the mention you can feel miscellaneous fish brush against your own, scales shining through the transparent waters. You can’t help but smile too, wiping it away with the back of your water-draped forearm. Fuck.

It’s only been a month and you’re smitten. He’d left you in favor of your father again, and all you can do is giggle about it.

There’s not much you know about the man— now that you think about it. There’s been a brief drunken mention of him having kids of his own, a little girl, you think. Maybe a son? Despite his affliction for quiet, Aizawa looks as though there’s more he wants to say. To share, to tell. Your father must know it all, seeing as they grew up together, and part of you can’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Hmph.

“What’re you sulking for?” His voice has broken you out of a daydream, turning your body to look him in the eyes. The man of the hour— Shouta. You almost hate how quick you are to melt under his gaze, squaring your shoulders with the stability of poorly glued popsicle sticks.“That ball bounce off your head, too?”

“I’m not sulking.” You watch him walk around the perimeter of the shore, slow and calculating, with his hands balled up in the fabric of his black t-shirt. He pulls it overhead, tummy contracting and biceps rippling— it still manages to catch you by surprise, how much muscle he’s hiding under his baggy clothes. Your brain sets off a symphony of ooh’s and ahh’s, unable to tear your gaze from the light rise and fall of his chest.

Your eyes trail back up, past the bend of his collarbones, up the display of stubble on his throat— he’s staring right at you.

“Uh — I wasn’t. . anyway. . What’re you looking at?”

His lips twitch, briefly pressed together before relaxing as he steps into the cold water. He’s slow, hair rippling just as smooth as the ocean, the further he moves forward. And, despite that, he slowly curls a finger to and fro, as if he’s talking to a small kitten. “C’mere.”

You’re frowning when you trudge forward, hesitance in your step. “Mr. Aizawa,” you grumble, still something of a cute little sound, using the prefix your father introduced him with. Something about it makes Shouta’s frame stiffen— the title, or maybe the pettiness behind it. It’s not like you call him that when you’re in a particularly good mood. “You didn’t seem to want me around earlier.”

“Quiet,” He tuts, clicking his tongue as if he knows the game you’re playing. But despite the curt, clean-cut execution of his tone, his thumb finds your cheek with the same gentleness as a spring breeze. “Your parents were always around earlier.”

Oh.

You play off your surprise well enough, swatting his hand away with a deep grunt. Sure, it feels good. His hands on your skin— such rough palms that cover your body — but you’re not desperate. Not entirely, not even when he fixes the twist of your face with a quick look to your furrowed brows. You settle for a sigh, grumbling, “They don’t have shit to do with me.”

“You’re, what, twenty-five—“

“Twenty three.” You interject, almost proud you can correct him. Rivulets of water trail down your arms, and his gaze seems to follow its motion.

“Twenty three,” He echoes with something of a breathless sigh tilting his voice. For a moment you think it’s the interruption— he’ll work on it later. Maybe he’s been struck by just how much younger you really are. “They have everything to do with you. You’re still their kid, I doubt they’d be enthusiastic about leaving you alone with an older man. A stranger, at that.”

“But they did,” You look around, as if to prove your point. Shouta’s never been one for dramatics, let alone those fueled by snappy attitudes and rolling eyes, but it looks cute on you. Maybe even cuter if it were accompanied by tears. “They left us alone. . . Half naked. . . At a beach. . . Alone..”

“I get it. We’re alone,” Shouta’s voice has always been so deep, rumbly and tired and smooth in your ears but even more so when he’s irritated. “Drop the attitude.” It’s different in a way. Leaves no room for argument, though you still feel the overwhelming need to stomp your foot and keep on pressing. You can’t help the shudder, nor the goosebumps crawling up your thighs. It’s just so fun to push his buttons, to watch his passive face twist for a split second as he processes your words.

It’s not exactly hard when he allows it. Shouta lets you push until your heart’s content, only reprimanding you with a glance or cleared throat— and it’s almost eerie. You can’t help but feel

like you should be anticipating something, even as you stand flush against his thick body in lukewarm ocean water and he looks at you with contentment.

Then it occurs to you. . . He’s letting it build up.

“And you’re not a stranger, Mr. Aizawa.” Obviously you’re softening the blows, so he watches you step forward, arms crossed over his thick, plush chest. You’re just so cute, brushing past his overwhelming seriousness with a smile— albeit sly. He can’t stay mad forever. It’s not fair, how cute you are, with lips stretched out and teeth on display, with the apples of your cheeks rising, and the cutest little twinkle in your eye. He wants to kiss you. . . He wants to kiss you so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Especially when you lean forward, sunlight bouncing off the ocean surface and across your body— painting you in pretty, golden slivers of glow. Across your face, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. It’s been a while since he’s felt his skin against your own. Since he’s run his large, calloused hands along your body.

“What happened to ‘Daddy’?” He asks, absentmindedly.

“What?” You break his trance, looking down at yourself with a hint of something Shouta can’t quite place. Uncertainty, perhaps? Vulnerability, maybe. It’s odd, you usually prance around so confidently. You wear the tiniest— tightest— clothes known to man, have the smartest mouth, egg him on day in and day out.

That’s not it. You look smug. You’re playing him for a damn fool.

“Nothing.” Aizawa sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s wrong— it’s cliché, maybe even taboo. He wants to wipe that look off your face. He wants to kiss his best friend’s son stupid. The man he’d just shared parenting advice to, the man he’d spent years upon years of highschool, college, divorces, with. It’d been so innocent when he’d visit— maybe he should’ve never stopped. Maybe he shouldn’t have come back to see you in full bloom, so handsome and lithe and sweet.

“ ‘Nothing,’ ” You echo, snarky as you mimic the flat, detached tone of Shouta’s voice. If you weren’t sulking before you definitely are now, readying yourself to push past him like some spoiled brat who was just denied their favorite candy after being caught trying to steal it nonetheless. So He holds onto your bicep, squeezing the flesh as it flexes with your feeble attempt at struggling.

“Are you done yet? Or do you need a minute to calm down?” He shifts his weight, voice calm and level as he holds you still despite the straining. Not a single hair on him is out of place, his tranquility almost alarming.

“Let go, old man!” He has to ignore the rush of adrenaline the back and forth gives him— the way he has an incessant urge to squeeze your jaw just a bit tighter.

“Hey,” You watch his lips curl to coo, a tone somewhat akin to a parent shushing a fussy child. Your face is turned to face him directly, “How many times do I have to talk to you?” Then impossibly close as his warm breath pans over the expanse of your face, “What’d I say about the attitude?”

“I don’t care what you say about it.” Your face is squished against his palm as you go to squirm your way out of his hold, but with the way his head angles down toward your face— you can barely get the words to sound convincing. There’s a giggle in your voice, like you think his frustration is amusing.“You like it, don’t you? Forget strange, you’re dirty!”

He’s the only thing keeping you upright, eyes narrowed and lidded, “Stop fuckin’ playing with me, little boy.”

“Dad never lets me drive the boat,” Though the man can sense your whining from miles away, it still manages to catch him off guard. Shouta quirks a brow in questioning, hand hovering a polite foot away from your calf as you stand to walk along the wading boat floor. “Destroyed his last one when I was a kid,” (He doesn’t have to know you were actually nineteen when you did.) You speak in a tone that makes him think just maybe you consider it more your father’s fault than your own. “This one’s nicer anyway.”

“That’s wasteful.” Aizawa bites the inside of his cheek, brows furrowed into a familiar line. Had one of his kids done that it’d be a completely different story. Surely one they wouldn’t be proud of telling either. Through the corner of his eye he watches you dig into the cooler, scrabbling past the beer bottles and iced hennessy, to pull out an ice cream.

“To you,” You spare him a glance before finally plopping down in the passenger’s seat with much more force than necessary— especially when sitting on a boat. “I did him a favor.”

The cooler did a poor job— your ice cream is already melted and soft once it’s unwrapped. Thick, velvety cream that you lap up with your tongue dribbles down your knuckles. He should find it gross, but your pretty eyes flickering upward to meet his own as you take one long, slow lick up each bend of your fingers has done the complete opposite. Fuck. It’s hot— your sticky fingers and messy lips, your pinched brows and tiny, pleased whines.

If only it were his cock.

Shouta’s thick. Much thicker than your ice cream, he’s sure you’d feel a good stretch to your lips if you wrapped them around the head of his cock. You’d probably whine about how hard you have to try, how heavy it is on your tongue— how much it’s stuffing you full when it hasn’t even slid down your throat yet. You’d cry too, maybe, with drool slicking your chin and coating his dick in a pretty, shiny layer of thick saliva.

“Want some?” You lean uncomfortably forward, though your legs are over the arms of your seat and draped across Shouta’s lap. Already close, Shouta can smell the oreo on your tongue and vanilla cream by the corner of your lips. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Sit up,” The deflection is an answer in itself, yet the dark-haired man can’t find a reason to look away. “Before you hurt yourself.”

Instead, you take his wrist, thick and decorated with a long vein, to fiddle with his fingers. They’re long— healthy, strong, clipped haphazardly— big. He watches you split his fingers apart, lacing your free hand with his own— and though he remains with all five fingers up, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the urge to close them around your much smaller ones. Shouta clears his throat while you hum, lapping at your ice cream before pressing your lips against his knuckles, “Want you to hurt me instead.”

“Hush,” There’s a sharp intake of breath, dark lashes fluttering as multicolored eyes glance past your shoulder. It’s evident he wants to say more— in the way he shifts his weight to lean outward. “You hardly know me.”

Your foot nudges his upper thigh, pressing into the firm skin as the boat moves further toward the horizon. It feels more secluded that way.. Private, even. As if there’s only the two of you left on the dreamy island. Your face looks a bit exasperated, like you’ve never had to work so hard in your life, and he has to admit it— it’s cute.

“I know you grew up with my dad,” He ignores the venom behind your tongue as you mention your father, letting out a low hum of confirmation. “I know you have two kids— adopted, right?”

“Hitoshi and Eri.” He interjects, voice soft and fond. You’d never noticed it before, but now you’re acutely aware of the gentle presence of breeze and rippling waters. Shouta’s relaxed face is much sweeter, still creased with age but not quite as deep. The cute, pinched dips between his brows are gone, but you know how to bring it back.

“Lucky. Wish you were my Daddy instead,” Aizawa isn’t sure which word he’s more hung up on, nor how it's so easy for you to completely twist his words— but as much as it rushes to his cock, gets him twitching in his pants and throbbing all the way down his heavy shaft— he doesn’t like it. You talk entirely too much. With lips much too sweet and sheen with cream. With a tongue that flicks and presses against your teeth when you smile. With a pretty voice he could listen to, all day. Something that’d sound better through choking and gagging—ragged and crackly and used. Your lashes flutter, soft and gentle against your cheek. “How old is Hitoshi? My age? If he takes after you, then. . .You’re just—“

“Listen to me,” Perhaps it’s not very characteristic of him, but he just can’t stop. Shouta moves without thinking, pressing his fingers into your cheeks until your lips are puckered. “For as long as I’m here,” he offers a squeeze. “For as long as your father is here,” then another, “Turn. It. Off.”

Your face melts into something floaty and distant, the smirk melting right off your face into something much more preferable. His thumb is so close, so close to your pretty lips. You blink once— twice, even— before regressing back into a grin, lips pressing against his long fingers. Fucking brat.

“I’ll just have to hit up Hitoshi sometime, then.”

The persistent comment nearly knocks him over, straight off the boat and plummeting into the cerulean depths of the sea. Instead, Shouta finds it better to step on the gas. . . To ignore the prickling heat in his blood, to ignore the easy taptaptap-ing of your fingers against the screen of your phone. It’s so easy for you to say anything around him— like a deliberate disregard for his reaction. His fingers thrum against the tiller, then wrap around its leather exterior to squeeze, and he doesn’t miss (not even for a second) the glance you give him through the corner of your eye.

The silence is almost painful. The motor speaks for you, loud and rushed and heavy. Aizawa’s jaw sets, clenched at each chiseled edge. His eyebrows furrow deep, angry, and his lips remain tightly shut. You can’t help but stare, watching his hair whip in the wind, dreamy and mellifluous. Not a moment of eye contact is shared, and you feel yourself slinking back into the white leather of your chair for the first time this evening.

Come the wooden dock just adjacent to the shoreline, Shouta’s throwing away wrappers (they’re all yours) and unbuckling his seatbelt. Your arms cross, a pout heavy in your lips as your eyes flutter closed. . Almost as if you being unable to see him makes him unable to see you.

“C’mon, baby.” You both miss the nickname, and despite the tension, it feels so natural dripping from his tongue.

Still, you whine. Mind occupied by your nearly offset tantrum prior to getting back at the dock. “I’m staying outside.”

“You’ll get heatstroke.” Shouta sighs, stepping back to lift you into his arms not even a moment later. You consider it ironic, for a moment, he always wears black despite the scorching heat. Bent at the waist as he leans over the open inside of the boat to unbuckle your seatbelt, his face remains stoic as your arms flail and fly to push him away. Your pretty face morphs into a nasty scowl, grumbles and mumbles toppling from your lips— you’re embarrassed.

He sets you down on the creaking wood, hands placed steady at your waist and shoulder to keep you upright— in your feeble attempt at escapism, your last result was simply going limp.

You just won’t budge, standing planted at the end of the dock despite the tugs to your biceps, forearm— hands, wrists. Your last attempt at pushing him away ends up in stumbles, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stomp down the polished dock, eyes hardening with the contact of deep, dark pools in Aizawa’s irises.

You were holding hands.

It’s been days. You haven’t left your room in days. At first, Shouta doesn’t worry. He doesn’t think twice about it, doesn’t question why you don’t come downstairs. When he asks your parents about it it’s always the same thing— ‘That’s just how he is when he doesn’t get his way,’ or ‘He’ll come around.’ The more he asks, the mode suspicion, More questions, mostly wondering why he’s so enamored by their son— even if he had been closer to you when you were younger. But that was long ago, and you hardly remember.

And that isn’t even it.

He starts to worry, to feel bad, on day six. Not a single sound that even points to your presence. No creaking floorboards, no music playing from your old, antique and overpriced record player, no sounds of muffled laughter. It makes him feel out of his skin, like a bystander watching the inhabitants of this very beach house go about their day like nothing is wrong. But this wrong, so very wrong—

He wants you. His boy, his brat, his best friend’s son. It’s wrong and it’s taboo, but so help him, he yearns.

His feet had carried himself upstairs before his mind could, following after you a good half-hour later. You heard him on his way in, the shuffle of his slipper-clad feet from the outside of your door. Still, you’d made no effort to move, no effort to free yourself from the cocoon of your childhood blankets, no effort to open the door despite his gentle knocking.

“You ready to talk yet?” He was willing to brush it all aside. The pushing, the persistent flirting, the slight disregard for his feelings, the mentions of his son. Really, he was jealous. Maybe it’s unsavory for him to admit, maybe he shouldn’t think of his son as competition. And he knows, of course, there’s nothing there— he’s only ever competing with himself. He just can’t help it.

Maybe he’s a bit spoiled too.

“I don’t like being ignored.” Your voice was small, but he could still hear it through the door. He heard it all, every implication. His sweet boy, his spoiled brat. You froze, just briefly, before he let himself in. The door creaked slowly with its open and close, a gentle click of the lock as the air grew thick.

Your old bed is small and creaky. Almost as much as the underused floorboards, your old bedroom screams with just as much personality as it does neglect. There’s tiny figurines, posters, awards, memorabilia— but it’s all too clean. Even if it has collected dust, not a thing is out of place. Pristine. There’s a few scattered photos— awkward haircuts, familial pets, the works. . Unapologetically you, maybe when you were just a tad bit more naive— but you nonetheless. It even smells like you, just with a hint of sea salt and warm, summer-y vanilla. Shouta wants to bury his nose in it.

“None of my fancy college boyfriends liked it here, Maybe ‘Toshi would.” You shift your weight as Shouta sits at the edge of your bed, the springy mattress creaking ever so slightly. There’s something left unsaid between the small string of words— and it’s sour. Twists on Shouta’s tongue, like he’s bitten into old bread, and it’s not just the mention of past boyfriends. Sure, that’s not exactly what he’d call this. . . relationship, but it’s not like it’d feel wrong. And he’d certainly feel bitter if his son were in his shoes. “Guess my sheets weren’t silky enough. Can tell you what was, th—”

“I like it.” It’s simple. The admission— simple and sweet, like it’s obvious. Shouta watches your lips part for a moment, just to close again, like a fish out of water. You look so small when you’re caught off guard, glancing to the side and shifting your weight onto your palms as you sit in the comfy middle of your bed. He knows what you’re doing— redirecting the conversation by flirting (it does get his heart beating, he’ll admit it)— and it makes you seem softer, almost.

He watches you sniffle for a moment, a quiet sound as you shift your knees with exuberating coyness. Your eyebrows furrow, cheeks puffed into a pout because, “That's it? You just ‘ like ’ it?”

He’ll give it to you, you never give up. He’d been warned, he was skeptical, and he’s been proven wrong. And, in the brunette’s head, you’d tallied over three strikes. Perhaps he was being too lenient. And now, Shouta, the weak man that he is, simply wants to indulge.

“What else would I say?”

“That it’s nice,” You cock your head to the side. “That you’ve never seen a room so nice. Which m’sure is true, anyway. . Are you low income, Sho? I can’t imagine what it’s like being a single father of two— or one, since Hitoshi moved out forever ago.”

The older man takes a breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. Pretty irises flicker down to meet the rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, like the tidal wave of emotion has washed away back into shore, his voice is level as he speaks, “You spoke to him.”

“You ignored me,” You say it as if it’s obvious, simple, that if you can’t have Shouta you’ll have to settle for the next best thing. And though it’s not entirely true, you only really stalked his social media to learn more about his father, you don’t think your heart can stomach seeing pride swell in Aizawa’s chest. “Wanted your attention, Daddy.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, cold air rattling the bones as he watches you stare up at him. Your eyes look softer, boyish, wider at this angle. His pink tongue darts over his equally pink lips, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

“Shh, sh, sh,” Shouta’s cock slips down your throat with a low grunt, the slippery walls clench around the fat head of his cock. Just as he imagined it, cutting off pretty whines and gasps, head bobbing back and forth— like you can’t tell whether it’s too much or too little. There’s a slight burn— the stretch of his thick, sticky cock nestled against your throat— but it feels good, heavy and throbbing in a way that makes your brain shut off so quickly you drool. It sticks to his shaft and slides down his balls, painting your chin in a syrupy-sweet layer of saliva, but you’re too far gone to wipe it away. Such a good boy.

He must’ve said it aloud, because there you are nodding, lazily bobbing your head as he grinds in and out of your mouth. There’s a loud, sticky sound coming from your throat, squelching and soaked, obscene in a way that makes you whimper around your heavy mouthful of cock. He’s quick to correct himself— you only ever seem to behave when you’re stuffed with his dick, and he can’t have you thinking your behavior is acceptable. With a grunt, deep and velvety, Aizawa pushes deeper into your mouth until you gag— tight throat convulsing and quivering around his shaft.

You slurp loudly, choking and gasping as you struggle to pull back. His balls hit your chin, heavy and sticky and so fucking good as tears stream down your face. You’re starting to get into it now, making a mess of yourself as you stick out your tongue to lick along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, eyes focused on the rings of saliva holding you together. Shouta pulls out to let you breathe, his cock quickly liding upupup your throat and past your lips until all you can do is whine and lean forward, lips wet with spit as you chase after what you’ve been wanting for the past month.

“Stop fuckin’ moving. Let Daddy use your throat, wanna hear you cry on it,” The bulge of his fat cock shows in your throat, in and out, in and out, in and out.

You want to whine, to beat your fists against his thighs, and kick your feet— it’s all so much. He has you by the hair, big hand pulling and tugging, lifting you on and off his cock like a warm, tight fleshlight. You fail to bite back a growl, though it emits more as a cute, pathetic sound, glassy eyes focused on his cock being shoved down your hot, wet throat. It’s so easy to press your lips against the darkness of his pubes, to smear pre along your pouty lips and cheeks. His cock jumps in your mouth, thick and long and curved, leaking at the tip.

It’s hard to adjust to the stretch, sputtering and gagging with such cute, greedy sounds. You’re getting ahead of yourself, eager, tongue lapping at the achy underside of his dick, pressed against his balls. And, with a gasp, Shouta pulls out, huffs and unintelligible groans filling the air. The blushing head of his cock taps against your cheek. Once, twice, again and again. “C’mere.”

And yet, despite all that bark, your eyes barely make contact with the ones above you. Instead they trace the pulse of his shaft, how heavy his cock hangs between his legs, how it makes his long fingers almost smaller in comparison. The way pre dribbles from the tip, sticky and warm and oh, so inviting. It’s as if he can read your mind, knows how badly you miss the weight of his thick cock stretching your throat, “You can do better than that," and you almost can't believe it.

Better? Your eyes flicker to the saliva dripping from your chin, suddenly aware of the slick pre smeared across your pretty cheeks and the heavy pants leaving your lips. What gets better than this? You let him use your throat like a new fleshlight, cried on his cock and muffled the sounds in his pubes. Ignored the aching of your own cock just to focus on his own, absentmindedly bucking your hips into nothing, even if it made you look like a pathetic puppy. Fine— you can show him better. You can break him first.

You blink rapidly, tears clumped in your pretty eyelashes, lips parting to, indubitably, sass the older man. “What, need help gettin’ it up? Fuck you, can do it m—”

Prideful boy. Shouta will have to fix that.

“— I wasn’t asking.” You really fucked up now, eyes wide as you’re lifted up by your throat and manhandled into Shouta’s strong arms. He smells good, and just as strong, as your face is pressed into his chest and your tiny, tiny shorts are pushed past your thighs. The air is cold, it spreads goosebumps along your skin, and you’re sure Shouta can feel them along his palm as he grabs handfuls of your ass. He ignores your off guard ‘Hey! I wasn’t done!’, ignores the squirm of your waist, ignores your poor, weeping cock.

Being the smooth, calculated man that he is, you’d expect Aizawa to put a rhythm and pace to his spankings. But no, there’s nothing for you to latch onto but the bundles of his hair as he hands out sporadic, random, and hard smacks along each globe of your ass. There is no back and forth, no favoring one over the other— it’s just where he wants, when he wants. If he wants to watch your thighs convulse and jiggle beneath his heavy palm he will, and if he wants to smack your hands away from his wrists as you tug and tug— he will.

Shouta groans when you let out a particularly pathetic cry, biting your lip and whimpering into his warm skin. You can feel his big hands part your cheeks, squeezing the skin until it spills over each finger and your ass has turned tender and sensitive. He coos, feeling you squirm and wriggle against his hold, “S’it too much? Daddy’s poor baby.”

It shouldn’t sound so sweet coming from his lips, even when it’s condescending and rough, even when he’s cracking his palm down again and again despite your kicks and squeals.

But it does.

“Da—ddy. . !” your voice quivers, hips rocking to an uncoordinated tune. So little contact and yet it feels like so much, his hot palms against your warm skin. . . The tears rolling down your darling face. . . The way your cock throbs against your tummy, your mouth aches with emptiness, your hole twitches beneath the weight of his fingers. The thought makes you want to whine all over again, body squirming and trembling as he holds and kneads the flesh of your ass.

“Quiet. I should shove my fingers down your throat to shut you up,” Shouta murmurs, so unnecessarily mean, kissing the dampness of your forehead before his hand cracks down against your plush ass three, four, five more times. You try to keep up your resolve, pretty legs trembling and knuckles clenching— but it’s just so hard. Being a brat is easy— it’s fun— you’ll give up a few tears, cry and pout, get your way. Easy. So you won’t break and give him what he wants. He’ll have to work for it, get a taste of his own mean, mean medicine.

Delayed gratification.

Wet llips open to speak, something smug and almost smart, but it’s reduced to a wet moan. You feel it—fingers spreading apart the globes of your ass, and more cracking down between them, on your empty, pretty little hole. For a moment your brain slips out of your body, thoughts static and turned to mush, fuzzy and convulsing where you lay. You process the sound of hushing, the feeling of wetness, the sound of slick spit against your skin. . . Thick, merciless fingers rubbing and tapping and sliding against you.

“Oh, god,” You sob, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows pinching the second more pressure builds and— oh, a finger slips inside. “Fingers— that’s, oh god..” Inching in slowly, rubbing against your velvety walls and so fucking slick you’re beginning to see stars. Whatever you had your mind set on earlier flies straight out the window, your brain short circuits as your sopping hole flutters around his fingers, sucking them in.

“Fuck, baby, look at you clench on Daddy’s fingers. Want Daddy to finger-fuck this cute little cunt silly?” If you could see his face you’re sure he’d be smiling— an eerie thing, eyes trained on his fingers getting sucked back into you. Such a needy boy. “C’mon, say it. Tell Daddy you want his big fingers in your sweet, greedy little pussy.”

You can’t help it, hole throbbing rhythmically along his long fingers, squelching and gushing with stickiness. The swell of your ass ripples as you wiggle your hips, rising and falling to grindgrindgrind. “Fuck me already, c’mon, old man.”

“That what your little ‘boyfriends’ do?” Your lip quivers— he hadn't even flinched at the sass— and instead used your own words against you. “Oh, baby. They didn’t give that little boycunt the attention he needed, hm? That why you throw so many tantrums?”

Your hand finds his wrist, fingers wrapping around thick and strong limp just enough to get his hand moving, trying to guide him deeper, faster, harder. He should reward bratty behavior, but the words spill from his mouth almost immediately, “That’s it, just needed something to fill you up, nice and full.”

It’s ironic— he says it just before pulling out his soaked fingers. And, at your nightstand, opens the drawer to retrieve lube. You watch him pause, eyes scanning the contents of the drawer until his lips quirk downward. Lollipop wrappers. An ungodly amount— you really went on a hunger strike because he ignored you? For six whole days?

“What am I gonna do with you.” He sighs, but grabs a sucker regardless, tearing open its pretty, pastel blue packaging to reveal its red, shiny hard candy. He pops the treat into his mouth, holds it on the right side with his teeth, and squirts a generous amount of lube over the globes of your ass. His hands slip and slide as he guides it around, watches it dribble down your thighs and relishes in the way your hole opens up for him, soaked and sticky.

Your eyebrows pinch, hips wiggling as he pulls the lollipop free from his mouth and directs it against your own, “Suck,” He murmurs, but it’s forced past your lips before you can process the demand. Here come more tears, burning your nose as you hiccup out a tiny, overwhelmed, “Daddy?”

“It’s okay, I’m here,” He coos, circling the pad of his thumb along the rim of your hole. Even as your feet instinctively kick, there’s no reaction from him, just a pleased hum. “Keep sucking, atta boy.”

His thumb feels like a lot, makes you squeal and shiver as he presses it inside, and something hot and wet accompanies it. That's good, the heat of his tongue licking and sucking at your throbbing rim, bubbly spit dribbling down his chin and caught in his stubble. One hand is focused on fucking your boyhole raw, till your brain goes numb and you’re incoherent. His palm presses into the small of your ass, tongue working hard until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your mouth flies open in a silent scream. He takes the opportunity to snatch the lollipop back, keeps his tongue pressed against your walls until—

He trails the glossy sphere of the candy down to your sloppy little hole, nudging and prodding until he slowly works the lollipop inside. “You can take it,” He growls, eyes trained on your fucked-out face. He can feel it, the tightening of your balls, the way your hole aches and pulses with the treat inside you. “That’s it, sweet thing. Wanna make this pussy cum, give it t’me. Let Daddy have it..”

He murmurs, and suddenly, instead of the treat that he’s popping back into his mouth, there’s the head of his perfectly thick, so big, cock pressing against your slick, thoroughly fucked-out hole and—

Oh.

“Sweet.”

You sob into nothing, back arching and spongy walls clinging down on Shouta’s cock as it’s worked inch by inch into you and— you can’t fucking believe it. You fought for so long, put on a bratty attitude and stomped your feet. Why would you ever push Shouta and his cock away for so long? Your breaths are short. Tiny little gasps as his large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs open to get a better view of the thick dick pumping you full. Your pretty little hole, sheen with spit and lube, exposed and on display for him and his cock. And, yeah, this is everything you’ve ever wanted and more. . . You want him to break you.

“You’re— fuck, you’re so gross, Daddy,” Shouta grits his teeth, “Ohh, havin’ your best friend’s son on your fat cock, fuckin’ my pussy so full. . !” You’re straight up babbling, cross-eyed as each thrust knocks coherent thoughts out your brain. A real, proper slut, desperately humping upupup to fuck yourself on his dick. With this position— knees to your ears and holes on display, you barely have the control to move— but it’s cute to watch you try anyway.

“Shut up and take it,” He rasps, voice deep and scratchy in a harsh whisper as his hips snap back and forth. “Don’t want mommy and daddy to hear their son calling someone else daddy, do you?”

“Daddy— Daddy, my pussy—“ You’re babbling, it’s all you can do since Shouta is all force with his thrusts; takes what he needs, feeds you his cock good and so, so deep. Over and over, you let out broken whines, desperate for it, looking down as best you can to watch your own cock bob and jump against your tummy, thighs sticky with spit and lube. You can hear the sound of your slutty, pathetic moans, the wet plaplaplap of skin, lube trailing and frothing between your bodies as Shouta fucks into you. You can’t stop twitching— your legs, your hole, your cock.

“This is Daddy’s pussy,” He corrects, angling his hips just right, the heat of his cock pressing against every special spot you’ve got. Every bundle of nerves, every silky, spongy wall you’ve got wrapped around him. “Just like that,” You’re gagging for it, pouty lips parting with open-mouthed pants as he continues to watch your hole tighten around his thick, veiny cock. He has to swallow down his own drool, reaching deeper into you, your body jerking back as he pounds, and pounds, and pounds. You may not be a good boy, but you’re a damn good slut.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh. . .” Your breath is caught in your throat, and if you could, you’d scream, your body tensing as your cock throbs and bounces, cum spraying across your bare chest — stickiness shooting out your spent cock until you’re twitching, handsfree and body set ablaze. Shouta shows no signs of stopping, instead keeping his cock inside you as he flips you around, eyes narrowed. He fucks you through it, watching more cum squirt from your cock, leaky hole milking him for all he’s got.

“Dumb sluts love cock, baby. S’that what you are?” His voice is a low purr, pressing your face into the mattress, watching your ass fall back onto his cock until he feels himself aching hard, hard enough to start cumming inside you.

“Yeah, mhmm,” You drool into your pillow, absentmindedly fucking yourself back onto him. You’re desperate to chase after it, the searing spiral of pressure growing in your stomach, tight hole bearing down on his cock. “Daddy’s slut, s’me!” For a minute you think you’ve passed out, everything going dark as you ride out his hard thrusts, offering tiny movements of your own, up and down to satiate the erratic spasming of your hole, to feel his balls slap against your thighs.

“Good sluts take Daddy’s cum,” Your eyes, so glassy and empty, is what gets him, groaning loud as he pumps a load inside you. “Take it, boy. Let Daddy knock you up.” It’s messy, and downright pornographic watching his cum leak out of you, just for him to fuck it back in with the head of his dick. Shouta’s cum starts to kiss your insides and spurt straight onto that small bundle of nerves— fuck, it’s so deep. His thrusts are erratic and sloppy, thick rope after thick rope frothing around his shaft as he fucks it deeper inside. You never want it to stop, not the groaning or moaning, not the filthy sounds, not the cum filling up your hole till you can’t move.

He ignores your needy, overstimulated whines when he pulls out completely, his spent cock hanging heavy between his thighs. Even when you’re limp and boneless, body trembling violently, you want more.

“Da— Da—ddy,” You sob, eyes squeezed shut as strong arms pull you up and into even stronger thighs. Sitting on his lap now, Shouta coos hums, basks in the sight of his pretty boy’s afterglow.

“Daddy’s here. I’m here, I got you.” He whispers into your shoulder, and that’s all you need to hear. The thought of his best friend melts away— you’re more than that. You’re not just his best friend’s son. . .

You’re Shouta’s boy.

Summer is coming to an end.

There’s a seasonal chill in the air and it’s getting dark in the early afternoon. The beach has switched its course, currents changing direction and fish disappearing from the shoreline. The weather is turning, branches are starting to grow bare and bloom in color, the wind picks up, and the clouds have yet to dissipate into the sky. . Shouta helps you pack, grumbles when you press chaste kisses against his skin the whole time— shuts down the stomps of your feet while you whine, “I don’t wanna leave.”

“Spring break,” Is all Shouta says, his mismatched eyes downcast in a way that highlights his long, pretty eyelashes. Then, voice barely audible, he whispers, “I don’t want you to, either.”

Your body visibly straightens, giddiness painting your boyish face as you smile wide and big. The older man almost regrets saying it, huffing with you lean impossible close to hug him tight. “Will you call me?”

“Whenever you want,” He says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. You watch as he throws your large bag of lollipops into your carry-on backpack, but not before plucking a treat free from the others. “You know I will.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

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stars4ani · 2 months

Note

i love ur blog ur writing is so good!!!! 🎀

Could you write for rafe x sub!reader who wakes up in the middle of the night crying for rafe bc she’s horny sjjskaks

thank u ur the sweetest ugh 🤍 and godddd anon this did something to me… i hope i did it justice

nsfw 18+

tw dacryphilia

maybe it was the weather, maybe everything was just too much, but today had gone so painfully slow. on top of that, rafe wasn’t home, out golfing with his friends all day. it was late and you decided to just sleep it off, but all you could do was toss and turn.

you awaken to the door opening, it’s still awfully dark out but you force yourself out of bed to greet your boyfriend.

rafe’s cologne intoxicates all of your senses as you hold him and take in his scent, the lump in your throat getting heavier. tears fall down your cheeks as you leave chaste kisses on his forehead.

“missed you so much, it’s so late now” you whisper, voice breaking.

he’s slightly taken aback by this, but he knows you’re emotional so it’s nothing he’s not used to by now.

“shit baby, was just a few hours…” he chuckles, raising an eyebrow as he takes in the way your nightgown rides up and hangs low at the neckline. “what’s wrong, you need somethin’?” his tone becoming more playful as he becomes aware of what’s really going on.

your lip quivers as you look up at him, pouting as he wipes your tears. “jus’ want you” you whine, barely audibly.

“cryin’ cause you’re horny? god, didn’t think it was that bad” he mocks in disbelief, large hands resting on your hips as he backs you up towards the bed, lightly pushing you down.

the feel of his slightly chapped lips against your warm plush ones sends butterflies straight to your core. you struggle to remove his pants as you claw at the zipper, amusing him even further.

“slow down, m’not goin anywhere baby” he smirks as he swats your hand away, getting rid of his own pants, followed by your thin nightgown.

you’re barely on all fours, your upper body immobile as rafe pushes himself into you, tight walls pulling him impossibly deeper. his large hand rests on your back, pushing you down and keeping you still. regardless, you find it hard to keep still because he’s just so big, tip abusing your poor cervix, causing you to cry out. you’re suddenly on your back, strong arms using your shoulders as leverage as he looks down at you, his coarse thumb wipes a tear off of your flushed cheek.

“wanted it real bad didn’t you?” he says, tone dripping with faux sympathy

you’re too fucked out to respond.. he pulls you up slightly by the neck, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

“didn’t you?” he repeats, his thrusts becoming sloppier

“yes- fuck rafe- yes, you’re the only one that can make me feel good” your voice trembling as you tell him exactly what he wants to hear

“good, keep talking, wanna hear your voice”

#rafe♡︎#anon ur crazy for this #and ily for it #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfiction

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hapinesbuterfiy · 3 months

Text

. ୨୧ ₊˚ʚ🪷🩷🌺ɞ˚₊ ୨୧

once you started seeing stanley cups all over your tiktok for you page you were hooked. you went straight to target and bought the light pink 40oz, so excited about your new cup!

today, rafe was taking you to the beach so that you would finally stop making fun of him for "not going outside". once you got the "i'm outside" text you slipped on your pink flipflops, grabbed your stanley, and made your way out the door and into rafe's car.

once you got in the car, you noticed the confused expression on his face. "why are you carrying a pink metal jug around" he questioned, eyeing the dainty pink ribbon tied around the handle.

"it's a stanley cup! they're all over my tiktok feed i had to buy it. isn't it pretty?" you chirped into his ear, looking up at him while taking a sip from the white straw sticking out the top of he cup. "what's the point? just carry around a regular water bottle like a normal person" he scoffed, a confused expression still on his face as he focused on the road.

"rafe! you're such a guy you'll never get it!" you rant, jaw dropped in disbelief over the fact he insulted your cup. "i-" he laughs, rolling his eyes at you. "just don't understand why you need that big thing, baby it's like half your size" he continues to laugh, peering over your shoulder while trying to find a spot in the crowded beach parking lot.

"i have to stay hydrated! it's cute, pink, and has a bow. what's not to like about it?" you continue, flailing your hands around as you argue with him. "s'all i'm saying is that it's impractical. 'm not carrying it either" his voice slowly drifting out as he gets out of the car walking to the trunk to retrieve your bags and beach chairs.

"but rafe! it's heavy and i have to carry my bag" you argue, giving him your best pout. he grabs the cup out of your hand, toying with the ribbon tied around the handle.

"fine, fine, fine i'll carry it. stop with the pout" he scoffs, placing his free arm around you as you walked up the beach.

#𓂃 ꔫ 💌 hapinesbuterfiy #rose's thoughts ₊˚ʚɞ˚₊#i have an emotional attachment to my stanley like that is my child i take it everywhere #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe x reader #♡ rosie writes ! ୨🎀୧

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eternally-smutty · 2 years

Text

Imagine your f/o craving you so badly that they can't resist touching themselves to the thought of you.

#imagines ♡#nsft imagine #imagine your f/o #self ship imagine #lemon #spicy #minors dni #smut imagine

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rafesmuse · 1 month

Note

cockwarming w rafe but he gives in before reader does?

“just sit still, a’ight? don’t wanna get you all needy f’me right away.“ rafe winks at you, holding your hips firmly to prevent you from moving, seeing who can stay still the longest. you feel so fucking tight around him— the way you’re squeezing him could make him cum instantly, but his ego forces him to put on his best poker face while his blue eyes stare at you intensely.

“you talking to yourself, pretty boy?” you taunt, making him chuckle at your confidence, accepting the challenge as he sits relaxed with you on his lap, knowing he’s going to win regardless. his hands move from your hips to behind his head as he leans backwards with the cockiest smile on his face, gazing up at you.

“i can feel you dripping down my legs, princess, making a fucking mess everywhere, shit.” rafe chuckles before slapping your ass, determined to get you to move first.

“yeah? imagine how good it would feel to thrust up into me right now, im so fucking wet for you.” you whisper the last part as you move your head closer to his ear, causing goosebumps to form all over his body as he feels your hot breath on his skin. he groans as you place soft kisses all over his neck, lightly sucking on his skin, knowing exactly where his sensitive spots are.

“i can feel you so fucking deep inside of me, rafe.” you murmur as you slowly lick from his collarbone to his ear while letting out breathy moans. “don’t… don’t say shit like that.”

he’s so close— so close to pounding into you right there and then. he gradually starts to lose control, his hands moving back to your hips, gripping the skin so firmly that it’s going to leave bruises for days. you continue teasing him, leaving love bites all over his neck and collarbone before gripping his jaw and kissing him passionately, tongues fighting for dominance as he moans into your mouth.

“fuck it.” rafe snaps, forcefully pulling you from his lap and bending you over on the couch, your head pushed into the cushions as he slips back inside of you in one quick thrust and sets an unrelenting pace right away. “i… i win.” you manage to say in between thrusts as he pounds into you, the tip of his cock continuously hitting your cervix. “yeah? we’ll see who’s winning when you can’t fucking walk tomorrow.”

#♡₊˚ for arina 🍒・₊#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you

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poetsblvd · 14 days

Text

bisous 𖤓 carlos sainz 𝒙 leclerc!reader.

❨ summary. all he wanted was a kiss, it’s not his fault the paparazzi caught it, and it’s totally coincidental that your brother’s going to kill him. ❩

❨ faceclaim. @/claudiamariewalsh on instagram <3 ❩

❨ notes. i had sm fun doing this! though it did exceed the limit i was looking at, becoming a bit long, but i do wanna do a part two to this because imo the charles x carlos beef is gonna be really funny!! i hope you enjoy xx ❩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by charles_leclerc and 30,987 others.

yourinstagram. wined and dined xo

view all 11,345 comments.

username when god has favourites 😩

username holy shit

charles_leclerc mon poupette! tellement jolie.

yourusername je t’aime cha xx

username my brother is a dick compared to charles lmao

arthur_leclerc bet you were smelly.

yourusername bet you came out of a gutter.

username now that’s more like my brother

username not carlos creeping in the likes 👀

username girl bffr he’s like 6 years older than her??

username so lol #zaddy

username don’t ever say ‘zaddy again’.

landonorris wined, dined and sixty-nined.

charles_leclerc get out.

yourusername ew you weirdo

landonorris so it’s funny when kevin in the office says it??

yourusername he has rizz, unlike you.

maxverstappen1 real.

landonorris i hate you.

francisca.cgomes so stunning my girl 😻

yourusername love u forever keeks <33

username someone look at me like she does in the third pic 😭

carlossainz55 espléndida

yourusername 🤭❤️

charles_leclerc ???

arthur_leclerc ???

landonorris ???

username lando what??

landonorris felt a bit left out there 🤷‍♂️

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by yourusername and 800,567 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ mon coeur 🫶🏼

⤷ je t’aime tellement !!

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ did you wine her and dine her??

⤷ ;) ;)

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ i bought yn a ring so similar for her 21st!

⤷ what a small world eh mate?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and charles.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

liked by carlossainz55 and 47,222 others.

yourinstagram sunny days ☀️

view all 24,432 comments.

username SOFT LAUNCH I REPEAT SOFT LAUNCH !!

username carlos crying in the likes lol

username someone check on big bro charlie 😭

charles_leclerc poupette???

charles_leclerc que se passe-t-il?? ( what’s going on? )

charles_leclerc you didn’t say BOYS were gonna be on this trip!!

yourusername is my hair not pretty?

yourusername you haven’t complimented it yet?

yourusername it’s healthier and you haven’t noticed :((

francisca.cgomes you should be ashamed charles_leclerc

pierregasly absolutely sick of you charles !!

landonorris even i noticed her stunning hair! it’s smoother!

maxverstappen1 disgusting behaviour

charles_leclerc ??? no ??

yourusername oh?? it’s not healthier? i’m not pretty anymore?

francisc.cgomes HOW DARE YOU charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc NON poupette desolee

yourusername don’t talk to me.

username me when i dream

gigihadid 😻😻

arthur_leclerc stunning hair btw

yourusername love u tur

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arthur_leclerc too bad it doesn’t help the ugly face lol

username nvm

charles_leclerc pick up the phone poupette

charles_leclerc you’re very pretty !! you’re hair is so shiny !!

charles_leclerc we’ll go shopping soon poupette 💌

yourusername okay charlie love u 🥰

arthur_leclerc i want a new ps5

charles_leclerc get it yourself.

carlossainz55 hermosa

username poor boy

username mans desperate fr

username not when she’s soft launching mate 😭😭

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,678,432 others.

yourusername replied to this story.

⤷ photographer of the year !

⤷ very much thought you were gonna use the pic of me falling.

⤷ love u

charles_leclerc replied to this story.

⤷ girls’ hair get better every day.

⤷ looks oddly similar too tbh

⤷ where’d you say you were vacationing again mate?

charles_leclerc can no longer view your stories

landonorris replied to this story.

⤷ shiny hair 👀

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ text messages between yn and kika.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ texts between yn and charles, and charles and carlos.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram

yourusername added to their stories.

seen by carlossainz55 and 986,444 others.

charles_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ poupette you’ve never done anything wrong in your life.

⤷ i’m not mad, call me please

⤷ desolee bebe

⤷ i have that new chanel you wanted ❤️

landonorris replied to your story.

⤷ so unserious lmao

pierregasly replied to your story.

⤷ charles is going to buy the entire mall y/n !!

⤷ tell him you’re not mad at him

⤷ DONT LISTEN TO KIKA

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ tell pierre to piss off

⤷ let charles buy you what he wants.

⤷ omg tell him you want a ferrari !!

⤷ IN PINK !!

carlossainz55 replied to your story.

⤷ mi vida your brothers texting me again

⤷ it’s very weird he’s apologising now??

⤷ he’s asking me if you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ bebita you should have told me you want a pink ferrari??

⤷ with a matching bag okay my love 🩷

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ TELL CHARLES YOU WANT A PS5

⤷ LO TOLD ME TO FUCK OFF

⤷ STOP TELLING ON ME Y/N

lorenzotl replied to your story.

⤷ i’m very happy for you mon chou ❤️

⤷ ignore arthur he doesn’t need a new ps5

⤷ he makes his own money.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ instagram.

carlossainz55 added to their stories.

seen by charles_leclerc and 1,410,333 others.

charles leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ who do you think you are buying MY sister a pink ferrari

⤷ you be with her, okay. you date her, okay. but buying her things?

⤷ and a matching bag???

⤷ you piece of shit.

⤷ when i said we were brothers i didn’t mean this!

yourusername replied to your story.

⤷ ma vie 💌

⤷ je t’aime tellement <3

arthur_leclerc replied to your story.

⤷ y/n wants a ps5!!

⤷ brother 😃😃

francisca.cgomes replied to your story.

⤷ you picked up the correct bag for her!!

⤷ she also likes chanel and hermès !!

⤷ you’ll be outdoing charles in no time !!

⋆⭒˚.⋆ twitter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

❨ disclaimer. i do not own any of the images above, all were found on pinterest, this is purely for fun and nothing is based on real life ❩

#౨ৎ my works #౨ৎ lilys lore #𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader

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hyunsvngs · 2 months

Text

𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲 - alpha!yang jeongin x omega fem!reader

wc: 6.2k

cw: a/b/o dynamics!, alpha jeongin, omega reader, pack alpha channie, pack dynamics overall, jeongin and reader are both desperate, jeongin gets kinda possessive, heat cycles & knotting

synopsis: you want the newly presented alpha jeongin to help you with your heat, but you're a little embarrassed - until you realise he desperately wants to spend it with you.

a/n: i wrote this in 2 nights and i was barking the whole time i'm in my jeongin feelings! sw under the cut 18+ MDNI

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: squirting, briefest fem rec oral, reader considers somnophilia, unprotected sex, copious amounts of breeding kink, a lot of slick, bath sex, doggy with his foot on her head, fingering (fem rec), dirty talk, riding, brief handjob, cum swallowing, choking, KNOTTING!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Two hoodies, a pair of joggers, a sleeveless shirt, Felix’s pillow and two t-shirts, and it still feels like it’s not enough. You stare at your nest with a frown, foot thumping on the floor and a pout on your bottom lip. You need more, and it feels like your nest is particularly lacking in a certain scent - something fresh, floral, and not Hyunjin’s rose scent.

Your preheat has your pussy throbbing dully, head feeling a little disoriented, and you walk around in one of Chan’s t-shirts and your underwear and nothing else. You’re warm, not the type of warm you are when in the throes of your heat, but it still makes your skin slick with a thin sheen of sweat. Your nose twitches when you finally try to rearrange the items on your bed, but it’s still not enough.

It needs more lavender, to be precise, but the idea of knocking on Jeongin’s door to ask the newly-presented alpha for one of his shirts makes your cheeks heat up even more. You’re too embarrassed, despite the whole pack knowing you’re entering your preheat - you can’t do that. Jeongin’s only just presented, and despite the fact you’d presented early and are younger than him, he was the baby. You saw him as your baby.

Still, your thighs tremble a little as you lean over your bed. You may see him as your baby, but he’s definitely more than capable of taking care of an omega in heat. It’s in his instincts now.

You huff, exiting your room. It’s easy to beeline straight to Chan’s room and swing open the door, seeing him laying in his bed and scrolling through his phone. The mere idea of the thick alpha cock in his joggers has you wanting to whine, but you shake your head, crossing the room to his bed to pout.

He doesn’t acknowledge you until you’re sat cross legged, arms crossed over your chest, and when he does speak it’s with an amused tone. “What’s the matter with my little omega?”

“My preheat is making me crazy,” You avoid his eyes, staring at your lap. Your hands are knotted over your thighs, and you pick at your fingernails. He coos at you cutely, finally tossing his phone to the side and opening those broad biceps to welcome you close. Your Channie smells of the beach when you press your front into his, and he lets you straddle him. He’s shirtless because you’ve stolen his shirt. “Tryin’ to nest. Not good enough. It’s bad.”

“Now, I’m sure your nest is fine, baby,” Chan mumbles into your hairline, fingertips tracing up your back through your - his shirt. You mutter a few choice words back, and when his fingers go to the small of your back, it makes your pussy clench around nothing. Chan dutifully ignores the spike in your scent, kissing your forehead. “What’s wrong with it? Can alpha make it better, honey?”

You shift in his lap. “I don’t- I don’t have everyone’s things in there. It’s- it’s missing Innie. I don’t wanna ask.” Your words are muffled where you bury your face in his chest, and you want to bite him hard when he starts to chuckle.

“Why don’t you want to ask?” He says, amused, and you kick your feet with a wail. He catches your legs with his toned thighs, trapping you between them, and you want to grind your clit all over him till you’re senseless from the show of strength. Damn preheat. “He won’t mind. He’ll like it, actually - you're treating him as one of your alphas now that he’s presented.”

“Wanted his stuff in there before anyways,” You insist, and Chan nods, humming.

“What makes it different now, hm?” His hands move to your ass, freeing you from the tight hold on your legs, and you do really gush a rivulet of slick this time. It makes you gasp, hips searching for something, anything, and Chan’s fingers just barely dip past the waistband of your panties. You raise your head, cheeks bright red, and Chan stares at you. His eyes darken, and he raises an eyebrow, before he’s smirking. “Oh, baby. You want our Iyennie for your heat?”

“N-no!” You stammer, shaking your head. “I never said-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” He muses, that stupid smirk still on his lips. You watch him run a hand through his hair, dark and curly and just as unruly as his sleep schedule. “Mm, I think it’d be nice to see, though. You know Felix helped him through his first rut? He was almost feral, baby, rutting into Felix like there was no tomorrow. Felix said he popped four knots on just the first day.”

Now, that makes you whine. Your head drops back to Chan’s chest, and you grind backwards to try and get his fingers further in your panties. Your mind is filled with the idea of Jeongin’s cock, thick and long and so alpha, his knot throbbing at the base and him fucking it into you until you’re joined together, filling you with loads and loads of his cum and-

Chan’s fingers move over your ass, finally dipping into your panties, and the pads of his fingers press against your hole. It flutters around nothing, and you leak more slick, your hips absentmindedly moving on his fingers to get some form of friction. Your eyes shut just barely, half lidded and glassy, and Chan lets out a little noise of approval at the look on your face.

“Wanna know what I think?” Chan murmurs, and you make a strangled noise in response. “I think you need to ask our baby alpha to help you through your heat, baby.”

“Hnnng, yeah,” You respond, because there’s nothing else you can say. He’s right. That’s why it felt like such a stab in the heart when you didn’t have something of Jeongin’s in your nest - you want him so badly for this heat that it’s making your pussy gush more than you ever have, and your toes curl at the thought of it. “Yeah. Yeah, alpha, I will, just- for now, can- please, and-”

“I got you, baby. Lie there and let alpha take care of you.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You stand nervously wringing your hands together an hour and a half later. Chan didn’t pop a knot inside of you, but he fucked you and ate your pussy until you were sated and crying before washing you clean in the bath. He’s so caring, your pack alpha, and now you stand in front of Jeongin’s door with a blush high on your cheekbones again, a towel wrapped tightly around your head. You’re in a fresh pair of panties and one of Minho’s shirts this time, the alpha’s chocolate scent wrapping around your senses and sending you haywire. You still want lavender more than anything.

Jeongin swings open his door before you can knock, and he’s practically beaming at you. “Baby! I was just about to look for you. I found this show, and- oh. You’re really in it, aren’t you?”

You are. Your preheat is really pissing you off, and you know it could be tonight or tomorrow when your heat really kicks in. You don’t have time to sit around and be embarrassed about asking Jeongin, and he’s standing in a sleeveless shirt and sweat shorts. The scent of lavender hits you and your legs buckle, barely catching yourself on the doorframe. Your pussy’s gushing slick again, and the simple cotton panties you have on feel heavy with it.

“Innie,” You whine, rubbing your thighs together. Your slick has started to drip down to the tops of your thighs, and it makes you huff out an impatient breath. You need something, anything, and Jeongin’s just staring at you with a blank look on his face. “Innie. Innie, I- for my heat, you? I want you, can you- please? It’s okay if you don’t wanna, I get it, I just-”

“Of course I fucking want to,” Jeongin says instantly, and you can see him chubbing up in his shorts. You have to close your eyes before you jump his bones. “I- me, though? I’ve never fucked an omega during heat, baby, I- I want to so bad, but are you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’m sure, Jeongin, I want you. I want you so bad, fuck, my nest, please, please, please come with me, I can’t, I can’t,” You’re babbling, words slurring, but Jeongin nods as if he understood every syllable. You let him usher you away from his door and down the hallway towards yours, the show he was talking about completely abandoned, and when his large palm splays over your waist and holds you close to walk there you feel like you’re about to die. Sweat beads at your eyebrow and your vision goes dizzy with it, but Jeongin guides you, firm and strong like an alpha should always be. It makes your pussy throb and you have the fleeting thought that you could enter your heat now, surrounded by the young alpha and his lavender scent.

You let him shut the door behind you, and then you’re jumping him. He lets you crowd him against your bedroom wall, only letting out a small noise of surprise when your lips attach to his and you’re kissing him filthy. Your tongue darts impatiently into his mouth, and he moves his hands to your hips, pulling you close. His hands are so big that his fingers splay over your ass, and you hear a few voices outside of your bedroom door. One sounds like Chan, and you’re momentarily filled with glee, hoping that he’s proud of you because you actually asked.

When you finally pull away with a bite to his bottom lip, spit sticks the two of you together, and Jeongin scoffs out a laugh of shock. His eyes form crescent moons in his disbelief, but before you can ask him what’s so funny, you’re working on autopilot, yanking at the hem of his shirt.

“Off, off,” You insist, and he nods, letting you work his shirt off of him. You motion to your bed, trying to walk backwards with him clinging to you. “For my nest. My nest, alpha, see?”

“Beautiful nest,” Jeongin replies, his lips attaching to your neck. He sucks right over your scent gland and moans, deep and gravelly, and you let him push you backwards onto your bed. His shirt drops from your hand and lands right next to your pillow, and you want to giggle and kick your feet in delight when his scent envelops you more. “Beautiful omega, lettin’ me see you like this. Fuck, do you need- do you need something? Do you wanna kiss some more?”

“Mm, alpha, I need- need more, please,” You say, voice high and airy, and you watch his eyes roll back into his head at your tone. He’s never been with an omega like this, and you briefly think you need to cut him some slack, but you’re too busy pushing your panties down your legs. You toss them to the floor with a wet thud, and he finally pulls his face from your neck, fox-like eyes gluing on the space between your legs.

You can see him fully like this, planes of milky white skin exposed and clenching to a set of abs that have you keening. You reach out, and Jeongin grips your hand, running it down his stomach with a small smile.

“Sexy alpha,” You muse, and he giggles delightedly, moving to lean over you again. He can’t believe you’ve let him have you like this so soon after his presentation, and it shows in the facial expressions he makes. You know your pussy is gushing slick that must reach through his sweat shorts and onto his cock, but he’s still ever the picture of self control, leaning up slightly to run two long fingers through your folds.

“Sexy omega,” He retorts, and you feel his fingers dip into you just slightly. “Do you want it? This is okay, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, please- please, please, inside, please, Jeongin-”

“You don’t need to beg, baby, I know,” He pecks your nose sweetly, and then two fingers push into your hole, straight down to his knuckles. He twists them a few times in your sloppy pussy, lips parting at the sound of your pussy squelching, and you wail when he curls them against your g-spot. “Fuck, you’re- you’re really wet, are you sure you’re not in heat?”

“Not yet,” You shake your head, eyes glassy at the feeling of having something of him inside. This is what you needed - this is the pack mate you wanted, and he’s on top of you with his floppy brown hair and cute, plushy lips. He lets his teeth dig into his bottom lip when you moan at a particularly deep thrust of his fingers, his digits long and precise, and you know it’s not going to be long until you cum. Your head feels dizzy with it, preheat engulfing your senses and making you think nothing more than Jeongin, alpha, Jeongin, Innie, yours. “Innie, Innie, when I- when I go into heat, I want you to just take it, please! Take what you want, take me, I’ll present for you, I promise-”

“Fuck, will you?” He groans, hips rutting into your thigh. It’s the first loss of his self control, and it makes you gush down to his knuckles. He grinds his palm into your clit, wet and messy and sloppy, and your eyes roll back into your head. “Be a good breeding bitch for me, yeah? Alpha will take what he wants, baby, don’t worry.”

“Oh, oh- oh, p-please, please, I’m gonna cum,” You stammer, hips starting to grind into his hand. He yanks your shirt up then, exposing your tits, nipples hard and peaked, and he spits onto your chest. He rubs it in with his spare hand, barely holding himself up with his elbow, and you moan when you smell his scent spreading all over you as if he’s marking you. You want more, though. “Jeongin, alpha, alpha, lemme- lemme scent you, please? Please, wan’it when I cum, please!”

He nods eagerly, and he slides a third finger into your fluttering hole just as he guides your head to his neck. You lick over his scent gland, messy and imprecise, and a well-calculated grind of his palm has you falling into the throes of your orgasm. You shake, keening all the way through it, and your pussy gushes more slick all over his digits. You almost feel bad until you hear the way he’s moaning back at you, letting you suck over his scent gland and get fully enveloped in him.

You’re nearly drunk with it, and it takes an inhuman amount of strength that no omega should have to pull yourself away and tug impatiently at his shorts. Jeongin finally lets his fingers slide out of you, and then he’s using both big hands to wiggle the offending fabric down. You smile satedly when he leaves them in your nest, but then you’re gasping at the sight of him naked.

Jeongin’s big. You knew most alphas were, since Chan and Minho were, but his cock hangs heavy and leaking between his legs. His knot is fully formed already, waiting for you, and you moan, soft and needy. You make grabby hands at him until he’s settled between your legs.

“Fucking- shit, baby, you want it? I can- I knot a lot, I can still knot you through your heat,” Jeongin assures, and you let him push your legs backwards to spread you open. Your pussy is still creamy and messy, and you obediently cup your hands in the pits of your knees to give him a good look. Your clit throbs when he rubs his cockhead against it, peeking out of your folds with how swollen it is. With a small, impatient whine from you, he’s sliding home. He bottoms out instantly, and your clit rubs against the thatch of hair at his base deliciously.

“Big,” You say, breathless, and Jeongin chuckles. “Big alpha cock. Mm, gimme, c’mon, fuck me with it.”

“I’m gonna fuck you with it. I’m gonna fuck you senseless,” He says, and then his hips are kicking up. All of his dance training has paid off, and his cock thrusts into you so fast your bed is squeaking. You’re happy you’ve had everyone else in the pack in this exact position already, otherwise your cheeks would burn crimson. You’re too busy whining and drooling all over your nest to care. “W-wet. Wet omega pussy, holy shit.”

“I’ll cum quickly, I’ll cum so quick, fuck- I’m gonna squeeze you so tight, alpha, I promise,” You wail, eyes finally leaking tears from the pleasure. His cock is heavy inside of you, and his head drops to your neck again, teeth just barely nipping at your scent gland playfully. With a shift of his hips, he’s fucking against your g-spot, and the feeling of his balls slapping against you drives you borderline insane. “Alpha! Alpha, oh, it’s s’good, s’good!”

“I know, fucking hell, baby,” He huffs, laughing in disbelief. “I’m gonna knot you. Fuck, baby, I can’t, I’ll last longer next time, I promise, just- let me knot you? Fuck, let me breed this cunt, please, omega, please, let alpha.”

“Alpha, please, yeah, yeah!” You babble, nodding impatiently, and his teeth bite into your scent gland firmer this time, just above Chan’s pack alpha bite. With another few thrusts, you feel his knot finally slot into your pussy, and the feeling has you squirting all over him again. You know he’s probably soaking with it, but the thought only makes you cum harder, especially when you feel his cock start to spurt hot cum inside of you. His knot causes it to leak out around his shaft, and you keen loudly, trying to grip his cock tighter with your hole to keep his load inside.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jeongin coos, out of breath. His cock is still spurting inside of you, and his hips stutter to try and push it further inside despite the knot keeping him firmly in place. “I’ve got more cum for you later, pretty, I’ll give you my pups.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You wake up to the scent of lavender and pain in your tummy. It’s hit, you realise, no doubt spurred on by the alpha who’s let you sleep on his chest. You’re both still fully naked, his cock half-hard against the base of his tummy, and your pussy’s gushed a puddle onto Felix’s pillow. You almost feel a little guilty until you realise he’ll definitely just lick it clean and thank you for it.

Your limbs are still heavy with sleep, but you attempt to stretch out your legs. The movement just makes the cramps hit a little heavier, and you whine in pain, moving to scent Jeongin and try to calm your heat. You’re sweaty, a sheen beading on your chest and over your forehead, vision blurry, and Jeongin pulls you closer into his neck despite still being asleep.

Inhaling deeply, you run your hand down his stomach just like he’d made you do earlier. His muscles ripple under your touch and you feel like you’re about to go cross-eyed. You’re not even sure what time it is. Your phone is dead somewhere inside your room, and Jeongin discarded his own phone in his room when you’d jumped him. The memory almost makes you snicker, but the scent of lavender hitting your nose almost immediately quells the cramps in your tummy and you moan into his skin.

Feeling a little impatient, you let your hand run down to the base of his cock, fingers stroking over the thatch of hair. Would he let you, in his sleep? He’d been so caring, so willing to bend for your needs earlier. Could you just… straddle his lithe thighs, let his big cock slide into your hole and wake him up with his knot locking you together?

You’re so delirious with it you shake your head against his skin, sighing out a stuttered breath and trying to keep yourself together. You can’t wake him up, not now, not when he’s just treated you so well and is just getting some sleep. You shift on the bed again, trying to move away and calm down, but a hand moving to your hair has you gasping in surprise.

“Your heat’s hit, yeah?” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. It brings a deeper tone to your alpha’s voice that makes your pussy gush impatiently onto his thigh, and he treats you with a fond chuckle at the feeling. “C’mere. You wanna ride me?”

“Yes, yes, please, please, Iyennie,” You beg, and he nods, finally opening his eyes. They’re dark when he finally looks at you, his strong cheekbones only slightly illuminated by the streetlights outside, and you clamber on top of him. You’re so wet, dripping over his body until you finally grip the base of his cock and slide down onto him in one go. “Oh my god. Oh my god, alpha, oh my god, oh my god, big, big-”

“Ssh,” He comforts you, thumbs moving to rub circles into your thighs. “Bounce on it, baby. Let alpha wake up a little.”

So you do. Your hips bounce on top of him and you work yourself up into bliss. He just stares at you with half-lidded eyes, little grunts slipping from his lips when you hit it particularly deep and gush even more on top of him.

“If you need it, you just take it,” Jeongin says, and you’re confused until you realise how he’d woken up to you in such a worked-up frenzy. “Take it whenever. It’s yours, omega, let me wake up to this messy pussy and I’ll- god, I’ll knot you whenever you need it.”

“I need it. I need it, I need it, oh, oh, alpha, I need it!” You wail, tits jiggling with your bounces, and Jeongin hums in response. He looks to be considering something, and after a long blink his eyes are open wider, more awake. With his alpha strength, he manages to pull you off of his cock, and you immediately begin to sniffle.

“Why? Why? You said I could, you said I could, alpha, you said-”

He’s flipping you onto your stomach in a quick movement, a growl leaving his lips when you just squirm on your tummy. Your pussy’s leaking even more now, and you’re crying, too, desperate for your lavender boy and his big cock.

“Remember what you said to me?” A large palm smacks your ass, and you squeak, pussy clenching and gushing. “Hands and knees like a good breeding bitch, c’mon, be a good omega for your alpha.”

“Oh, fuck,” You respond, quite intelligently, but then you’re deliriously pushing yourself up onto your knees. You arch your back for him, letting him see the way your hole flutters with emptiness, just slightly gaping from his thick length.

“Fuck, baby, alpha’s gotta- I need to taste you,” Jeongin moans, and then his nose presses into you with a deep lick. He positively whines into your folds at the taste, tongue flicking over your clit and hand wrapping around your thigh to keep you supported. Your toes curl into the sheets, head dropping to your pillow with a loud, strangled moan. His t-shirt is still next to your pillow, and your nose buries into it, inhaling deeply with every moan he punches from your lungs.

“Please, please, please,” You slur, muffled in his t-shirt, and he hums against your hole. It has you bucking back into his mouth, and when his mouth leaves you you really do sob this time. “Alpha, you said I don’t have to beg, being- being mean, being mean, Jeonginnie, Innie, why, why-”

You’re cut off by him sheathing his cock into your heat again, balls deep and heavy inside of you. He moans loudly, hand slapping down onto your ass again, and you whine in response, shaking your hips backwards onto him. It’s only a brief moment before he’s bunny-fucking into you just like he had earlier in the day, cockhead kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“Fuck. F-fuck, omega, do you always get this wet?” Jeongin keens, voice airy, and the break in his resolve has your head spinning. You squirm against him, and his hands move to your waist, trying to hold you still. “W-wet, wet, so wet, fuck. You’re making alpha’s cock feel so good baby, so pretty in your little nest.”

“W-wanted your things in it, Innie, wanted- wanted to smell you, I- please,” You’re babbling again, but you can’t help it, drooling all over Jeongin’s t-shirt while he fucks your pussy into oblivion. “I wanted you, Channie- Channie made me ask, and, and I was scared, and-”

“Never be scared, b-baby, not to ask me to fuck this little pussy,” He reasons, and you nod, whining. His cock presses deeper into you, and you feel him reposition on the bed, and then his foot rests on your head, pushing you down. “Is- is this okay, omega? Keepin’ you in place for me to fuck you, yeah? S-squirmy girl, you are.”

“‘S okay, ‘s so okay, so okay,” You try, but it’s still muffled. Your eyes are rolling back into your head at this point, your mattress squeaking and headboard thudding against the wall. Despite him holding you down you’re still trying to move, to grind your clit against something, anything, and you moan gratefully when one of Jeongin’s hands moves from your ass to underneath you, letting you grind your messy clit against his palm.

“Make yourself cum,” He instructs, and you nod, fingernails digging into your nest. It must be a mess by now, laden with cum and your scents, but you don’t care - Jeongin will help you fix it later. You know he will, even through your delirious mind and your pussy gushing slick out over his cock and his knot. You still grind yourself downwards, feeling yourself inching closer and closer to your orgasm, and his foot holds you down harder. You whine, arching your back to the point it’s almost painful.

You feel it start to gush out of you before you even know it’s happening. “C-cumming! Cumming, alpha, alpha! I’m cumming, alpha, please, please-”

“What are you begging for?” Jeongin chuckles deliriously, hand smacking your ass. “Let it all out, a-all over me, all over your alpha’s cock. Give it to me, that’s it.”

You do. Your pussy gushes over and over, and with a loud growl, Jeongin’s knotting you again. His knot swells to the point that you know it’s going to be a stretch, and it slides inside with a wet noise before he’s filling you with his cum again. It’s thick, abundant, but his knot is so big this time it keeps it nice and secure inside of you.

“Fuck, breedin’ you nice and full, yeah?” He murmurs, and you nod satedly, your eyes fluttering shut. You could sleep like this, especially when he finally repositions you to lay with your back to his chest on your side, his knot steadily pumping cum inside of you. Part of you hopes it takes despite your birth control. His hand rubs over your tummy, and he snickers when he rubs one finger over your clit and makes you whine in overstimulation.

A few minutes pass, and Jeongin manages to slide out of you, leaving your pussy gaping and messy. You want to make a noise of dissatisfaction, but you’re too tired, your heat leaving you sleepy and Jeongin leaving you satisfied.

“C’mon,” Jeongin huffs, fingernails tracing over the small of your back. “Let me run you a bath, omega. A bath and then food, yeah?”

“Hnnnfg,” You murmur, eyes fluttering shut. He’s fucked you so good it’s got you feeling floaty, heat completely sated until the next wave of arousal hits you. “‘M tired, Innie.”

“A bath and then food. That’s it, I promise. Let me take care of you.”

You can’t say no. You swing your heavy limbs to the side of the bed and follow Jeongin to where he’s fiddling with the bath taps, running you a nice, warm bath. He lets you press your face into his neck from behind to keep you grounded while he gets it sorted for the two of you, and you wrap your arms around his middle with a happy grin on your face. When he finally guides you into the bath with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek, you’re happy to stretch your legs out and let him wiggle in behind you.

“Ah, there. Feels good?” He questions, tucking your hair behind your ear, and you nod. He pecks your cheek again, before he’s using plain water to reach up and massage over your thighs. The movement doesn’t get you horny again, but moreso relaxed, and you lean your head back onto his shoulder while he looks after you.

A knock on the door snaps you both from your serene moment, and Jeongin lets out a noise of surprise. You protest agitatedly, but make a noise loud enough to let the other person know they can enter.

Chan pokes his head in, eyes soft but fond. “I’m just checking everything’s going okay. Omega, how are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Channie-”

“Hyung,” Jeongin grumbles, hands wrapping tightly around your middle. The strength of it makes you squeak, eyes widening comically. “Please go. Not right now.”

“Iyennie,” Chan begins firmly, but seems to falter at seeing the look in his eyes. He chuckles awkwardly, scratching his neck. “Are you sure? I can help, or-”

“Hyung,” Jeongin says, firmer, and when you manage to crane your neck to look at him his jaw is set in a deep line. He’s getting possessive, you realise, not wanting Chan to be involved in your heat this time around or be anywhere close to you when you’re relaxing. The realisation has you heating up again, even in the bathwater, and you reach a hand up to grip Jeongin’s wrist.

“I’ll set off,” Chan recognises, eyes flickering between you two. “Love you both.”

“Love you Channie,” You murmur, pussy throbbing between your legs where they’re splayed over Jeongin’s, and when the door shuts again he’s pouncing on you.

“Heat hitting again?” He questions casually, but the heavy breaths he’s letting out on your shoulder and the hard cock pressing against your back has you knowing he’s anything but casual. You nod in response, and he pulls you around by your waist, making you face him. The steam from the bath has caused his hair to be slightly damp, and you push it back from his features, taking in just how handsome he is - and he really is like this, all domestic and boyish for you. His bottom lip is a little pouty, and you kiss it chastely, before you’re reaching down to grip his cock.

“I gotta- next time, in your rut, let me,” You murmur against his mouth, still a little lucid despite the new wave of heat hitting. “I need to- to worship this cock, and suck it, and-”

“Fuck, omega,” He cuts you off, groaning, deep and gravelly. You pump his shaft a few times, but you’re too impatient, wiggling onto his lap further to let his cock press against your clit. It’s swollen and achy already, and with another moan Jeongin grips the base of his cock himself and guides it into your soppy hole. You’re still gaping a little from the previous time, but your lavender boy acts as if it’s the tightest hole he’s ever fucked into, a gasp leaving his lips. “Ah, there’s that pussy. I almost started missing it.”

You giggle breathlessly, forehead resting against his as you start to grind on his lap. The bathwater sloshes around you, some hitting the floor, but you can’t find it in you to care. His cock hits you deep like this, and you let out a sigh at the way his swollen cockhead presses against your g-spot. “I m-missed your cock already, alpha.”

“Yeah?” He muses, lips moving to messily kiss at your neck. “Ride it like you mean it then.”

You can’t help yourself. You start to bounce, and Jeongin’s lips latch onto your nipple immediately. He licks over the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, not caring who hears you over the sound of the rippling bathwater, and when he pulls away with a light bite of his teeth to your nipple it makes you gush fresh slick all over his cock, down to his balls. There’s still that interaction with Chan on your mind, though, and you have to ask about it.

“Innie,” You say, breathless, and he hums in response. The noise reverberates around your breast, where he remains with lips parted just above it, and you bounce a little harder in response. “Y-You didn’t want Channie to see me.”

Jeongin grabs your hips then, sharp and firm, and starts to thrust upwards. The movement really does make the water start to pour out of the side of the bath, and you move your fingers to dig into his shoulders for support. He smirks at you knowingly, and thrusts so hard it makes you jostle in his lap. “I didn’t want him to see us. You’re mine this time around.”

You wail, loud and incoherent, and you start to feel your head getting dizzy again. Your alpha looks after you, hand moving to your neck. You gasp when his grip tightens around the column of your throat. His hand holds you down onto his lap as he thrusts relentlessly into your pussy, wet and aching, and you can’t help the amount of slick flooding out of you.

“Do you like being mine? Just for a few days?” He questions, chest heaving, and you nod eagerly. You realise your fingernails must be scratching him, and when you look to his shoulders you can see the slightest bit of blood on his milky skin, but he seems more bothered about getting you to cum on his cock again. “Fuck- I can’t- baby, I can’t knot you in here, it’s not comfortable-”

“L-let me swallow it,” You whine, barely audible from his tight grip on your throat. He lets go of you then, but doesn’t stop thrusting into you, letting out a loud groan. “Alpha, alpha, let me swallow it, let me taste it, please-”

“I’m gonna cum soon, omega, I’m close, fucking- baby, cum, cum for me, please?” Jeongin’s eyes are glassy, his bottom lip covered in spit, and you whimper, nodding. Your fingers move to your clit, and you start to rub in the same rhythm he’s fucking you in, feverish and fast.

It doesn’t take long until you’re shaking through yet another orgasm given to you by your alpha, breathless noises leaving your lungs, and then he’s pulling out. Your pussy clenches with the loss, empty and upset, but he’s quick to scramble from under you and stand out of the bath.

He stands in front of you, stripping his cock, his knot just barely inflated at the base. “Suck the tip, just the tip, just the tip.”

You lean over pliantly, sucking his cockhead into your mouth, and he groans. His hand moves to your hair, pulling it back slightly, and when you look at him through your lashes he’s done for. He spills into your mouth, messy but not too much given that he didn’t knot you, and he groans through his orgasm until his cock starts to go soft. He pulls out of your mouth gingerly, and you lick your lips clean.

Even half hard, it’s still a spectacle, and you scrabble to try and get his cock into your mouth again. Jeongin only pushes you off playfully by your forehead, before he’s leaning down to kiss you, a lot more innocent than any of your prior kisses.

“Mm,” He moans against your lips, and then he’s kissing your forehead, nose and cheeks, all in a triangle. When you pull away, he’s grinning, eyes scrunched up in that silly little smile he does. “Shall we actually get clean now?”

You giggle, leaning backwards against the other edge of the bath. The bathwater sinks to your breasts, and you try to ignore the way his eyes falter down to them. “It might be a good idea. Get back in?”

“You’re a heathen,” He says, trying to be condescending, but that smile is still on his face. “We can’t fuck in here again. The bathwater will go cold, and I actually want us to get clean and have some food so that we don’t die. Sounds good?”

“I’ll try to keep my hands off you,” You smile, wide and toothy, and he points an accusing finger at you when you look down at his shaft again.

“Watch yourself, omega.”

“Yeah, like that’s not gonna get me turned on again,” You huff playfully, and Jeongin only tackles you into the bath and kisses your cheeks again. He leans his forehead against you, and you can see he’s blushing despite his playful front.

“Clean-up time, okay?”

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