a/n: i’ve written daddy!shota plenty of times, but i’ve never written about how it might have happened. so here’s a hc dump? there’s a lil smutty drabble at the end.
if this isn’t your kind of thing, pls just scroll and ignore.
tw: f!reader, daddy kink (obv), ddlg, mentioned age play, d/s dynamics, pet names: baby, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl
totally blindsided the first time someone whined out a shaky “daddy” underneath him in his early twenties. almost busted instantly. he knew daddy kinks were a thing, but that was something people joked about, wasn’t it?… at least that’s what he knew. he also knew he needed to hear it again, but shoved the thought away as the life of an underground hero took hold.
kayama was the one who called him out on it jokingly when she snickered and threw out an offhand, “okay, daddy,” in response to his being demanding and she earned a nasty glare. she proceeded to do that for the next week, and every time, shota had half a mind to shove her face into any surface he could find and fuck the attitude out of her. but he never did.
got absolutely shitfaced with some friends and drunkenly confided in kamaya as uncomfortable as it was. he wanted answers, wanted to know that he wasn’t some disgusting perv, and if anyone could understand, it would be her. while much more crass than he liked on the matter, she still had compassion.
thanks to kayama, shota soon finds places on the internet where real people are involved in “ddlg,” and a comfort settles in his chest knowing that what’s in his head actually exists.
there’s something that makes his body run hot seeing real people in innocent, frilly clothes, printed, childish panties, maybe an oversized pacifier between their lips, snuggling with the cutest plushies he’s ever seen…. he’s not sure what to make of that, and it takes time for him to figure it out.
by the time you meet shota a few years later, he’s figured out most of his likes and dislikes, he thinks. he’s considered or been in a d/s dynamic once or twice, but most of his “daddy kink” experience falls into “something i like to hear in the bedroom.”
he’s pretty perceptive and picked up that you might be that kind of person long before it came up. it’s in the small things - the way you get flustered with certain nicknames or a particular tone of voice, how much you enjoy it when he’s forceful or takes control, the way he can almost watch your brain short circuit with certain phrases, with how he insists on taking care of you, etc.
he’s probably not gonna tell you until you bring it up or it happens naturally; yeah, he wants it, but until you push him, he’s not the type to demand what he wants out of sex (or in general) in a romantic relationship because that takes work… and because most sex doesn’t involve romantic relationships for him.
when it does come out, there’s plenty of discussion. he’s open with you for the most part because he doesn’t see a reason not to be. no matter how hesitant you might be, he’s unfazed by anything you bring up; he’s been around the internet enough that he’s at least seen the whole spectrum - everything from “daddy is a nickname” to 24/7 dynamics heavy on age play.
the first time you let it slip and call him daddy is probably in bed. he’s just fucking you that good. your head is spinning and fuzzy at the same time. your voice is muffled by pillows or maybe you’re tucked into the crook of his neck, biting into his sweatshirt. it’s soft, hardly intelligible; in fact, you were desperately hoping he hadn’t heard you at all.
but shota’s hearing is sharp, and he knows that what just left your mouth sure as shit was not “baby.”
so he leans in, his lips grazing your ear. “what’s that, sweetheart?”
“huh? n-nothin, jus’ feels go-” you’re cut off as your jaw drops and you moan.
shota angles his hips slightly, pounding harder into the spot that had you trembling and seeing white moments ago.
“c’mon babygirl, what did you call me?”
you whine. heat rushes to your cheeks. “no, sho st-stop, please,” you plead softly.
“if you wanna fucking cum, you’re gonna repeat what you said,” he growls. “you hear me?”
another hesitant whimper as you clench around his thick cock. shota grunts from the sensation and concedes, opting for a bit of encouragement.
his tone is soft and low. “i need it. let daddy hear you, baby.”
a shudder runs over your skin, your voice more akin to a broken sob. “fuck daddy, fuc-nngh, please don’t stop.”
shota’s heavy groan hits your skin as he pants, and you keen in response.
“that’s it. that’s my good girl, shit.” he presses soft, warm kisses into your skin. “say it again.”
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i think the first time you really realize alhaitham’s in love with you is when you see how he inconveniences himself just for your sake. it’s subtle, you don’t even notice it until one day it all hits you at once.
“you…got these on your way home?” you ask, taking the bag he holds out. you didn’t even think he was listening last night when you said you’d like to try that new bakery off handedly. evidently he was.
and he stares at you with that aggravatingly blank face of his. “yes.” it’s all he says, all he chooses to offer even when you leave all the unsaid questions in the air.
“but that’s not on the way home,” you say confused.
“it is, if you take a different route.”
“and you took a different route?”
“yes.”
“you took what would be a slightly longer route?” you raise a brow.
“yes.” and then he walks off to change, dropping the discussion all together.
you stare at the bag in your hands, at the small token of proof that he listens, that he cares. and then it hits you, all at once it hits you. those extra pillows he spends time rearranging when he makes the bed because you insist they’re nice and you need them. the papers he gives you at the akademiya already sifted through and sorted in order for you to sign. the late lunch he takes just to have yours with you. those fifteen minutes of sleep he sacrifices to shower first so you can stay in bed a bit longer. that table he hates and always bumps his hips into that you love in the living room.
and that longer route he takes on his way home to get you something you like.
it’s all so inconvenient. it’s a lot more trouble than he likes. it’s inefficient and over complicated and probably is an obstacle to his usually simple life.
“i didn’t know you were listening,” you mumble, “i thought you were asleep.”
“well, it’s difficult to sleep with all your tossing and turning,” he says simply, making your lips quirk into an easy grin as you roll your eyes.
he turns to walk to your bedroom, and you grab his hand and keep him in place. and then you smile that little smile of yours. lean in and press your lips to his. mumble a quiet thank you, haitham against them before kissing them again. and again. and again, for longer this time.
he loves you. it’s the easiest thing he does.
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