#feminized male reader

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Hellbound Angel

Male Yandere Demon x Male Angel Reader (CW: Noncon, drugged reader, drugged sex, drug-like cum, drug-like saliva, big ol' horse cock, literally equine dick, belly bulge, armpit kink, scent kink, musk, underwear sniffing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, temporarily mind-broken reader, religious themes, dehydration, forced feminization, reader has minor injuries not inflicted by yandere) Word Count: 2.2k

In the never-ending war against the legions of Hell, the middle ground where most of the fighting was done was on Earth. However, the heavenly forces sometimes deemed an incursion into Hell necessary.

You had been sent on a mission to scout ahead and take note of the coming forces.

Angels were stronger than most demons. Even so, almost your entire squad had been wiped out in a bloody ambush. The other survivors had used the one holy recall scroll to teleport themselves back to heaven.

Each squad sent into Hell is given one and only one. They probably thought you were dead already when they left still with demons in pursuit. They had to act quickly. You didn't blame them. Without it, you were trapped here. Unless you could find a demon's gate that could take you to Earth. That's how the demons made it out. But there would certainly be legions of the enemy at such places.

You had managed to escape the slaughter of your scouting party, but you were injured. Your wings had been hurt as had your leg. Relatively minor injuries, but in a hostile land, they certainly made things more difficult.

To be honest, you weren't exactly the strongest angel on a good day. This was not a good day.

You limped along the rocky landscape, using your holy staff as a walking stick. You stayed low to remain unseen by any wandering beasts or demons as you made your way out of the fiery wastelands and into the white sand desert. Hell wasn't all fire and brimstone. It was the most popular depiction of Hell's most dramatic landscape, but there were other biomes, too. Now you were getting into one of the many deserts Hell had to offer.

It was cooler than the burning wastes, but by no means was it comfortable. Water and food were scarce, the white sands were nearly blinding, and the swirling black sky was a constant ominous reminder that you were not safe.

You could go a long time without food and water. You wouldn't die without them, but after a while, you would wither up and be unable to move. You'd go into a kind of stasis. And then you'd be defenseless.

For days, you wandered. At least... you thought it was days. Despite the perpetually black sky the sun never set. Your lips were chapped, your wounds aching, hope dying in your heart. You had to find an oasis to rest at. Build up your strength. From the limited maps you had seen of this region of Hell there should be one at the heart of this desert, but with your wings and legs messed up it would still take many days still to reach it.

There were several more days of endless marching, hobbling on your injured leg that was getting harder and harder to walk on before you finally saw the oasis in the distance. You tried your best to approach stealthily, going behind dunes and sand drifts whenever possible, and wrapping your white wings around you to provide some measure of camouflage with the white sands. As you got near, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. And out of the smoke stood a demon. It was a trap.

Dark brownish red skin, sharp horns, a tail flicking back and forth, and he stood at least a foot taller than you. He was very muscular, his sweat coated abs glistened in the sunlight. He wore nothing. His long horse-like cock and big nuts swinging freely below a thick patch of black pubic hair.

You caught yourself accidentally staring and looked away quickly before readying your divine staff for a fight. Which was really hard, since you could barely stand without it.

The demon winked and chuckled.

"Do you like it~ There's no harm in just looking, you know?"

He closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and knocked the staff away in one fluid motion.

"As a matter of fact, you can do a lot more than look, little bird. My cum would make you feel so much better~ That oasis you're looking for is still miles away."

"Uh, thanks for the kind offer, but I think I will pass. I'll just be on my way and out of your hair."

You stepped back slowly, hoping to make it to your staff so you could maybe limp away and give him a good smack if he followed. But he wasn't giving you the chance.

"Oh, but you're dehydrated!"

He took a few steps forward until there were mere inches between you. He put a hand on your cheek and thumbed at your chapped lips gently.

"Your lips are all dry. Let me help~"

Before you could decline, he held your head in place and leaned down. He traced and prodded your sore lips with his long slick tongue.

You tried to push him away but couldn't do much in your current condition. And the saliva was having some kind of effect on you.

He slipped his tongue past your lips and kissed you greedily.

Your head grew fuzzy and your legs weak. His spit was some type of drug. It felt... nice...

You resisted it as long as you could, even resorting to biting his tongue, but he ignored it and continued. Moments later, you slumped against him, your head on his muscular chest. The only thought in your head as you passed out was how nice this man in front of you smelled.

He picked you up gently and carried you bridal style. It was fitting since you were certainly his little bride now, as far as he was concerned. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and then started walking towards the underground dwelling he called home.

When you woke up, your wounds had been healed, and you felt a lot better. Though you were still dizzy. There was an intoxicating smell all around you and you didn't recognize your surroundings.

Your first instinct was to jump up and flee, but you were immediately pulled back down and placed in the lap of your demonic captor. His monstrous cock poking out between your thighs.

You looked down and realized you were naked, your soft cock and balls laying on his unnaturally warm prick.

"Let me go!" You elbowed him as hard as you could but he must have made sure you stayed drugged because you couldn't muster up any strength to put into your struggle.

"Let you go? After all the trouble I have gone through to romance you?"

"Romance!? You kidnapped me and I don't even know who the fuck you are, creep!!"

You struggled with renewed anger, smacking your head backwards, elbowing, kicking, and scratching. All amounting to you gasping for breath, tired, while he chuckled at the attempt.

"You're in Hell! I could have raped you and left you in the sand to be killed by any passing monster and that still would have been considered romance."

He placed his large hands on your legs with his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your thighs.

"I saved you from the desert, treated your wounds, let you rest for days, fed you, gave you water, and bathed you. That is damn romantic!"

He started assaulting your neck with little licks and kisses, enjoying how you squirmed in protest while sitting on his equine cock.

"As for the name that you'll be moaning when I bury myself in you, it's Tevrik."

"My friends will come back for me. You should save yourself the trouble and let me go now!"

This was a bluff, of course. They almost certainly thought you were dead. You didn't know if your deception would work, but you didn't expect him to respond with a cackle.

"No, they won't! Rathiel won't let em!"

A shudder went through you at the mention of your boss who had ordered the mission into Hell.

"He's one of Hell's best agents. Gives us lots of intel."

You were dumbfounded and fell silent a moment before regaining your composure and replying angrily.

"Lies from a worthless demon!"

"I'd never lie to you, sweetie~"

He trailed his hands up and down your thighs as he continued.

"How else did we set up that ambush? Rathiel sent you to us. We needed more angel blood. But not yours."

Your blood ran cold as he began grinding into you.

"I picked you out from a bunch of employee profiles just to be my little princess. I'm half angel myself and wanted an angel bride~ We'll rule this region of Hell together!"

He repositioned you on his lap to face towards him as his flared cock grew fully erect.

"You weren't supposed to be hurt in the battle. I'm so sorry about that. I killed the demons who did it."

You didn't even struggle when he positioned you above his dick, hot precum smearing your hole as his cock pressed against it. The betrayal drained the fight from you.

"After the battle, I just followed you for a bit, so you'd be tired. And now here you are. With me."

The precum and smell of his arousal were making you dizzier. The words he spoke brought tears from your eyes.

"Awe, don't cry. After we have some alone time to adjust, I'll take you to the palace~ You'll be royalty!"

You winced as his cock entered you, expecting pain. Surprisingly, there was none. Instead it was like every cell in your body was filled with pleasure.

This couldn't be right. You had to escape. Sex with a demon was a very taboo thing.

You started struggling but Tevrik held you still.

"Shhh, I know you're upset. But just let it happen, okay? I'll make you feel so good."

As his precum continued to dribble out of his dick and into you and as the betrayal by your trusted higher up sank in you once more lost the will to fight.

Why were you fighting anyway? This cock felt so nice. And he was so kind and romantic to go through all this trouble to get you away from your evil boss right?

You relaxed and lay against his chest as he pumped into you slowly. You looked up at him and realized he had your underwear in his hand and was holding it up to his nose sniffing the crotch.

"You smell so good, girly. So good. You feel good too."

"You smell nice too!" Then your brain caught up with the rest of what he had said.

"A-and I'm not a g-girl." Too focused on your pleasure to really care.

"Nah, you're too pretty to be a man. Too weak too. Plus you have this tight little cunt hugging my dick. You're definitely a girly~"

"O-okay."

You blushed because he called you pretty. You supposed he made a lot of sense. You were clearly a girl. You wondered why you didn't know that sooner. It felt right.

He chuckled warmly as you drooled on his chest and made cute little gasps and moans. He couldn't wait until you were moaning his name.

Tevrik didn't pound you, he didn't want to hurt his sweet baby bird. Instead he just rocked his hips into you and enjoyed the effect it had on you.

After you started making those delicious noises his demonic precum began to make you super cuddly. He continued to breed your tight hole while you started nuzzling him and leaving gentle kisses on his chest. He began grinding into you a bit faster and more forcefully, his cock clearly outlined through your belly as it nestled into you as deeply as he could get it.

"Fuck babe, I'm about to bust."

But you came before he did it. Your cock spilling silvery angelic seed on his belly as you called his name and clung to him tightly. The combined sight of you cumming while impaled by his dick while at the same time calling his name just like you promised he would sent Tevrik over the edge. His large balls filled your tummy with hot demon cum. It made you feel warm and fluttery and loved. Like you could feel his emotions through his seed.

You were so tired from all the emotion and sex that you passed out on top of him, nuzzling your nose into the comforting scent of his armpit as you clung to him.

Tevrik smiled. You were just so precious. Sadly, he knew you'd regress back into struggling against him. But that was okay. He would keep reminding you how the angels threw you away and keep breeding you full of his drug-like semen. Soon you'd crave it. He'd bed you constantly until you needed it. And then breed you as much as you wanted him to after that.

Yeah, it would take a while. But he had all the time in the universe.

Tevrik sighed with content and closed his eyes, taking your underwear and putting it back up to his nose while he relaxed with his cock still deep inside you.

You may have been in Hell, but Tevrik was in Heaven.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere #yandere demon #feminized male reader #yandere boyfriend #x male reader #angel reader #male yandere x male reader #my ocs #My OC Tevrik

[kitoshii]

Omg i just love your first fan fic definitely needs a part 2 maybe where bunny reader finds out that they actually got pregnant with mr.wolf and reader is just so confused but he decides to tell mr.wolf the news and mr.wolf is just watching t.v when bunny reader comes in and wolf is just so horny that he drags bunny reader to their room and do the cha-cha but this is just an idea write you're fan fiction how you want to write it

hellooo nonnie ! so your request did help me decide on a part two, but i changed some things ‘nd cut the pregnancy part, i really hope you don’ mind ! | pt 1 here

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male ! character

lovin ? heavy orgasm denial , predator / prey themes , hair pulling , breeding , size kink , marking , overstim , full nelson , feminization , readers dick referred to as a clit

stretching your arms over your head as you lean back in your plush gaming chair, a soft pop echoes from your wrist. the sound makes you shake your ears, before standing up and closing your laptop carefully.

tugging your shorts down your legs, the soft click and thump of the front door had your ears twitching in attention, a little smile gracing your face as you assumed it was your mother coming home.

you opened your door, quickly flitting down the stairs with your moms name at the top of your tongue, before skidding to a stop, your socks slipping on the slick wooden floor, falling on your butt at the last stair. a loud squeak escaped your mouth, and your hands flung out, attempting to grasp onto the tight shirt of the tall wolf in front of you.

your hands retracted as quick as they had come, delicate fingers clasped against your chest. there was a moment of silence before your wide eyes nervously looked up, only to find him already staring down his nose at you with narrowed eyes. to your fear ridden mind, it seemed like they were glowing with a predatory urge and your breath hitched, suddenly reminded that you were in fact a prey animal.

a smirk spread across his lips, his eyes narrowing further for just a second before turning to his father, who peered around him curiously.

“he slipped.” he muttered, watching as the older wolf nodded, a concerned look on his face before walking to join your mother in the kitchen.

your eyes were still locked onto his frame, and when his met yours again you flinched, realizing you were still on the ground. shaky legs planted themselves on the ground, your arms attempting to push yourself up before a large hand was tucked under your arm, pulling you to your feet. you stumbled forward into his chest, face planted there until his other hand carded through your hair, tugging your head back to look up at him.

“you’re clumsy, cottontail.”

you almost whimpered at his actions, closing your thighs together without thinking, trembling hands coming up and grabbing onto his shirt. your eye contact only faltered for just a second when he glanced down, a cocky - and slightly predatory - smirk one again gracing his face. he tugged on your hair harder, leaning down so his lips were next to your ear.

“run, little bunny.” he whispered, his words accentuated by a deep, quiet growling that seemed to come from the back of his throat. his grip on you faltered and you were still for a moment, before you stepped back, foot slipping on the steps, and suddenly you were scrambling up the stairs, reaching your room ‘nd slamming the door behind you.

“what was that?” your mother called, peeking out from behind the wall to the kitchen, making eye contact with the younger wolf.

“it’s nothing.” he smiled, waving his hand ‘nd walking to the living room to sit on the couch, leaning back ‘nd manspreading his legs with the remote to the t.v in hand as if nothing had happened.

his father and your mother passed by the couch, his hair being ruffled by the small woman. “your dad and i want to go out for a bit, is that alright with you ?” she asked sweetly, leaning over the armrest of the couch, his father playing with her bent ears idly.

“thats fine,” he grunted, sitting up from his slouched position. “how long will y’ be gone?”

“don’t know yet. we’ll text Y/N when we’re on the way home, kay?” the youngest nodded in acknowledgment, and his father patted his head before they were on their way, the front door shutting behind them with a soft click.

you came walking down the stairs not long after, your steps slow and tentative. you noted the lack of shoes by the front door, coming to the quick conclusion that the adults had left - and you had half a mind to go back up to your room and not come out, but you had caught his eyes quickly and now his attention was on you.

offering him a nervous smile, you kept your head down and walked quickly to the far side of the couch, sitting down and focusing on the television. a short chuckle left his mouth as he took quick notice of something.

“what happened to the pretty pink shorts you were wearing earlier?” he asks, his eyes still trained on the tv in front of him, and you could only look down, embarrassed, because you had in fact changed your shorts to some plain black ones after soiling the others - but theres no way you could tell him that.

“.. they were too small for me.” you mumbled after a few moments, and he looked over to you, his eyes trailing down to your thighs and back to your face with an eyebrow raise and you realize how stupid that excuse was because these shorts are also tight - hugging your dick and squeezing your thighs.

your face flared in red, crossing your legs and tugging your sweater down.

“let me ask you again, doll,” he started, reaching out and tugging you towards him by your waist, his body moving so he was facing you, one knee resting on the couch. “why’d you change your shorts?”

you stared at your hands that were on your lap, holding your sweater down over half of your thighs.

“i… i told you..” you stumbled over your words, breath hitching when you felt his hand tighten around your waist. you only heard him grunt before you were stumbling on your feet, a harsh grip around your wrist.

your back hit the mattress, his large hands pulling you towards him roughly, plush thighs resting over his muscular ones. a whimper from you made his fluffy ears twitch, sharp eyes narrowing as he ran his big hands over your thighs, reveling in the way your body jerked.

your soft ears perked up as he began to talk, his deep ‘nd demanding voice sounding ominous to your muddled mind.

“now, i can either….” he started, big hands running under your sweater ‘nd across your stomach, “abuse your poor little clit,” he continued with a chuckle, squeezing your small cock to accentuate his words, making your back arch, “nd use you for my own pleasure without lettin’ you cum once,” he pushed up your sweater, flicking your nipple harshly, “or you can tell me the real answer, ‘nd i’ll fuck you like a good boy deserves to be fucked.”

you panted harshly, closing your eyes tight and gritting your teeth, your knuckles turning white as your small hands fisted the sheets under you.

“i- i… i fuckin- told you!” you gasped out, shaking your head as he flicked your dick with a sigh.

“well, i did warn you.”

“h-hnghh !” you squealed, voice muffled as your head was pressed into the mattress by his strong hands, struggling to breathe between your heavy breaths and lack of space.

he’d been fucking you for a while now, harsh teeth marks clear around your nipples, on your neck, and even your arms. you felt completely ruined, your hard, leaky, and red cock bouncing underneath you with every thrust, the hairtie around the base of it stopping you from cumming throughout this whole session, although you’re sure you’re multiple dry orgasms in.

his big cock presses against your prostate unrelentingly, strong arms pressing into you at different areas as he holds his weight against you, his thrusts so harsh ‘nd so fast you can barely tell apart his thrusts in and slides out of your poor, ruined hole.

a loud sob is ripped from you when his hand that was holding your head down is suddenly wrapped around your cock, his finger teasing the tip.

“you wanna cum, bunny?” he asks with faux sympathy, teasing the area around the hairtie, his cock still fucking into you with no mercy.

“y-yes! g-gna cum ! cum - please!” you squeak, your legs kicking up from the bed, feeling your gut twist once again with the painful need to release, your body convulsing under his as he only grins with pride.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it?” he practically coos in your ear, his voice lust filled, condescending, and predatory. theres a grunt from behind you and suddenly you’re being lifted, your chest to his back, legs slipped from under you, his muscular arms holding them in the crook of his elbows, and he wastes no time in pummeling back into your ruined hole in that position, cock kissing places you didn’t even think existed inside of you.

you feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs and you attempt to scratch at his arms because your small cock is so fucking ruined, ‘s pathetically leaking precum like a faucet, bouncing against your stomach as it loses some of it’s hardness - simply because the dry orgasms have taken so much out of you.

“look at that.. little clit’s showin’ me just how useless it really is.” he growls, biting deep into the marked skin of your neck afterwards, his swollen knot pressing against your puffy hole as his dick twitches inside of you, his head spinning and overwhelmed with the need to bulge your belly with his puppies.

“shit, bunny.. got me cummin’ so soon.” he huffs, a sloppy grin on his face as his hips never falter , even with how daringly close he is to teetering over the edge ‘nd filling your hole up.

his head shakes, ears twitching as his breathing picks up heavily, trying to center his mind, as it runs to fucking you until you pass out, using your pretty holes till youre filled with his cum and covered in his scent - his strong arms and hands increasing the grip he had on your legs.

he adjusts his arms so your legs are practically touching your ears, his hand coming up to shove large fingers in your mouth, his own baring his fangs into your shoulder - thrusting deep ‘nd hard into your little cunt, filling your stomach with his cum.

a loud wail is muffled against his digits, sobs wracking your chest as you convulse so harshly you’re practically pushed out of his arms, your head shaking back and forth.

“shit..” he mumbles, barking out a laugh. “forgot you had that on.” theres a large grin on his face as he sets your legs down, turning you onto your back. his hands work at untying the hairtie from your dick - rutting back into your hole with a few deep, rough thrusts once it’s off, bathing in the scream you release.

“y’said you wanted to cum, yeah?”

ahhh, i did it ! y’guys proud of me? ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

#xo . kitoshii #sub male reader #bottom male reader #bottom gn reader #bottom reader #bunny hybrid #dom male character #dom top character #sub gn reader #mlm nsft #knotting cw #feminization cw #breeding cw #wolf hybrid #sub nsft #top jjk #top cod #top gojo

[iceman-soup]

amab top!reader x bot!gaz x top!soap

putting Gaz in a crop top because you thought it would be funny but turns out he looks amazing in it and now you're hard :(

then looking over at Soap and he's just staring, boner all too visible through his jeans :(

So of course you take them both into your room, telling them to undress and get on the bed as you do the same. Crop top stays on.

Fucking Gaz with two fingers, the other hand slipped under the top to feel his pecs, whilst MacTavish praises him every time he makes even an uttered sound, sucking hickeys into his neck and pumping both their dicks.

Kyle's cock twitches and cum paints his stomach, earning soft groans from all three of you. Feeling that he's stretched a good amount, you line yourself up with his entrance, making sure there's enough lube to be comfortable.

"You ready, princess?" you press a small kiss to his clothed chest. Gaz nods. "Good boy."

He spreads his legs wider as you push into him, not sure what to do with his hands. Soap takes his wrists and pins them above his head, breathing heavy as he cums over the crop top. "Fuckin' stained now," he grunts, glancing over at you.

"Could try washing it?" you suggest, maintaining the eye contact as you rock your hips rhythmically into the man under you.

Soap hums, studying the clothing quickly soaking up the cum. "Probably won't get it all out, though."

"Make him wear it around anyway. Show it off," you grin; Kyle whines at the lack of direct attention. "Shut up, Garrick. We're talking."

#AH ok wow #finally got to call him princess yayayay #casual conversations during sex? ok sure why not #cw smut #cw feminization #cw degradation #tiiiny little bit but yk #soapgaz x reader #soap x gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut #x male reader #x amab reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #soap x gn!reader #soap x male reader #gaz x amab reader #gaz x gn!reader #soap x gaz #soap x gaz x male reader #soap x gaz x amab reader #fuckin christ thats a lotta tags

[dumbfuck11111]

❥i am currently simping over ghost from call of duty, i would like to politely and respectfully get on my knees for this man and have him treat me like his fucktoy.

#bottomposting #call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #x male reader #ftm ns/fw #ftm sub #ghost smut #bd/sm brat #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #bd/sm kink #ftm bottom

[sister-lucifer]

thinking about Jason the toymaker x male reader with some forced feminization

although Jason is pansexual and feels attraction to all genders indiscriminately, he usually only finds women to be ethereally beautiful enough to be his dolls. He only knows how to treat ladies, not gentlemen. But then he walks into the toy shop one day, a man whose angelic visage is almost too much for Jason to bare, and he needs to have him.

Jason has only ever had female victims dolls, so of course the closet in your lovely new room is filled with women’s clothing and Victorian style dresses, intricate outfits with corsets and layers of undergarments that he’ll surely have to help you with. Not to worry, he’s more than willing to assist you! He expects his dolls to be well dressed for him, after all.

The way he treats you is so condescending, cooing down at you about how beautiful you are for him. He reminds you to sit with your legs crossed, it’s not ladylike to spread yourself over the seat like that. Yes, yes, he knows you’re not a lady, stop reminding him. He’s just trying to teach you to be proper.

You’re such a pretty doll, do you know that? Yes you are, and you’re his pretty doll now, to dress up and play with however he sees fit. No, no, dont whine, be a good boy and wear the dress, okay? You wouldn’t want to anger your darling, would you?

Jason sees nothing wrong with how he treats you. What’s ladylike is proper, and you should be proper for him, shouldn’t you? He really doesn’t know any better, but a good doll shouldn’t complain either way. So behave like a good girl, okay?

anyways yeah i’m thinking about this a lot i need to write a fic

#fic ideas #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #male reader #feminization kink #jason the toymaker #jason meyer #jason meyer x reader #jason the toymaker x reader

[liquidstar]

crazy take: aside from actual lesbian romance stories, obviously, nothing passes the bechdel test better than moe "cute girls doing cute things" anime. its always just a group of girls, few to no named male characters, boys and dating are hardly ever brought up beyond the abstract, if at all. like we're focusing on the girls hanging out rn, we dont need to worry abt that shit. mugi just ate mio's strawberry.

#this doesnt mean i think all ''cute girls doing cute things'' anime is feminist btw #thats not my take. the test itself isnt a metric for feminism #im just saying if you take the rules purely at face value. that type of show kills it #but also no the genre isnt for the male gaze! everyone go watch 'a place further than the universe' and develop some emotions #even k on which i joked abt in the post- its actually a bit complicated bc of the way the anime deviates from the manga #but the short of it is the further it gets away from its source and becomes its own thing the more it becomes abt the girls #s2 being all original was the strongest. its a great story about the fleeting nature of youth and lasting friendships actually #ppl dont give it enough credit. yes its slice of life ofc but its really good #also not to mention bocchi. everyone loved bocchi. in that show they literally have a joke where they dont show the dads face #bc no male characters LOL #the acceptation being that one club owner who is meant to be more feminine? manga readers know more abt that tho

[frenchfrywrites]

His Treasure

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Service/sub top male reader, power/dom bottom yandere Rook Hunt, reader has an oral fixation, possessiveness, jealousy, obsessiveness, praise, lil dumbification, mommy kink, feminization, blowjob, ruined orgasm, sub space, google translate french

A weight on your lap wakes you up in the middle of the night. You blink away the sleep from your eyes, groaning softly as you adjust from being ripped from your peaceful slumber. 

“Rook?” you mumble, faintly making out his face from the moonlight seeping in from your open window. 

“Bonne soirée, mon amour,” he greets you softly, cupping your face with a gloved hand. Knowing it’s him atop of you, you bring your hands to his thighs, which are stationed at either side of your hips, squeezing the muscled flesh there affectionately. You’re delighted by his presence, despite not knowing why he’s in your room, or how he got here for that matter. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask sleepily, leaning into his touch. He hums softly, his sharp green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight. His hand goes from your face to your neck, finding your pulse and pressing there gently. Your breath hitches, and any exhaustion from being awoken leaves your body as goosebumps bloom across your skin. 

“I saw you with Cater this afternoon,” Rook muses. You nod, remembering the moment in question, but you don’t remember Rook being around when it happened. “Whatever could Monsieur Magicam want from you?” you audibly swallow at his question,

“Um he just wanted to see my notes for Trein’s class, and then he wanted to take a picture together,” you explain, feeling nervous, even though you know you don’t have any reason to be. Rook hums again, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I see,” he sighs, “I understand his desire to photograph you, mon beau, however…” his gaze finally shifts away from you. The pause he takes is light, but you feel uneased by it all the same. “I hope he does not post it,” Rook finally continues, “I would be very displeased if others could so easily acquire access to your beauty. You are a rare jewel, a treasure, and you should not be exploited,” he rambles, returning his attention to you. You smile, for even though it’s excessive, any praise from Rook makes your heart flutter.

Rook returns your smile lovingly, letting out a pleased sigh as he looks down at you.

“Ah, mon amour, je suis désolé, I just can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he leans down to kiss your cheek, “forgive me, it’s selfish, but mommy wants to keep you all to himself,” he whispers in your ear. An excited shiver runs down your spine, and you can already feel the beginnings of arousal setting in.

“I’ll ask Cater not to post the picture,” you tell him, wanting nothing more but for your lover to be pleased with you. Rook kisses your cheek again before pulling away a bit,

“Tell him to delete it,” he all but orders. You nod, and Rook smiles happily. “Good boy,” he hums as he begins pulling off his gloves. 

Slowly, painfully so, he brushes his now bare fingers against your lips, before leaning down to kiss you properly. You accept the kiss eagerly, opening your mouth when his tongue licks against your lips. Rook’s hands find their way to your chest, and he presses his thumbs against your nipples. You can feel him smile into the kiss when you moan from his light touches. 

When he pulls away, he leaves you breathless and aching for more. “I want you inside me,” he hums, grinding back against your half hard cock.

“Yeah,” you practically whine, bucking your hips up, chasing the pleasure. Rook makes a noise that’s halfway between a moan and a laugh at your reaction. 

“So impatient,” he chastises, his hands moving downwards so he can help you pull off your sleep shirt. You flush as Rook stares you down. It’s moments like this that remind you of your lover's fascination with hunting. There’s no better way to put it, but he makes you feel like caught prey at times. 

“So impatient, but alas, I can’t deny you,” he laughs, pulling his own shirt off. Now it’s your turn to admire him. Uncontrollably, you salivate looking at his chest. Your arousal grows as you remember how many times you’ve sucked and played with his nipples as he’s cradled your head and waxed poetic about you. 

“Ah,” he runs his own hands over his chest, instantly taking notice of where you’re focused on, “does my baby boy want to suck on mommy’s breasts?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you moan again, leaning up so you can do so. Rook stops you by pushing your chest back onto the bed. He tuts,

“I know you have better manners than that, mon amour,” you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Sorry, please, can I, mommy?” Rook smiles at your correction. 

“You may,” he permits, and you can’t get your mouth on him fast enough. Rook laughs at your zeal, but is cut off when you take one of his nipples into your mouth and suck. He moans softly, holding your head gently. “There we go, good boy,” you moan at his praise, looking up to see his pleasured expression. 

“Hm if only mommy had milk for you,” he says dejectedly, and your cock throbs at the thought. You whimper, sucking more fervently, like any second now your wish will be granted. Rook arches his back, pressing your face more against his chest.

“You make me feel so-oh good,” he coos, moving your face from one nipple to the other. You give the other side the same attention, sucking and licking at his skin. There have been times when you’ve mouthed at his skin for hours, but tonight you’re wound up and itching to be inside him. 

“Please,” you groan, pulling away from his chest, “please can I fuck you mommy?” you ask, oh so politely. 

“Asking me so nicely,” he grins down at you, “how could I possibly say no?” leaning down, he kisses you lovingly. Your hands wander for the first time tonight, tugging on the waistband of his pants. Rook assists you, and sooner than later you’re both naked, your clothes in a heap on the floor. 

You’re more than happy to be fully undressed, because it was starting to get uncomfortable having your dick strain against your sleep pants. Plus, now you can see Rook’s pretty cock, and how hard he is. You find yourself salivating once again as you stare at him unabashedly. Rook lets out a breathy giggle, jerking his hips up so his dick bobs against his stomach.

“You want mommy in your mouth, non?” you whine at being called out. He hums, “I think you might have an oral fixation, mon cher,” he jokes lightly. You don’t respond, and your silence is as good of an answer as anything you could’ve said. He touches your lip again, “nevertheless, that will have to wait until later,” you nod, excited by the promise of a future blowjob, “right now you have to stretch me.” He pauses,

“Do you think you can do that? Or do you need mommy’s help?” he teases. 

“I can do it, I just need-” you pause, looking around. Rook reaches behind you, under the pillow where you were soundly asleep not long ago. He presents you with a vial of lube you didn’t even know was there, and you’re far too consumed with lust to wonder how it got there. “Thank you mommy,” you mumble softly, lubing up your fingers as fast as possible. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he kisses your face, then leans forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, so you can reach around and finger him open. 

As your fingers brush against his puffy hole, you busy your mouth by sucking a mark onto his neck. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, it quickens when you press one into him. 

“Good boy,” he coos, pressing himself back against your hand. Spurred on by his praise, you ease another finger into him, spreading your fingers and working him open for you. 

You have him gasping for breath and moaning in no time. Your cock is throbbing and aching with need as you fuck him with three fingers. 

“Enough,” he says gently, after a moment, “fuck me,” you whimper at his command, giving a final kiss against his skin before pulling away.

Slowly, you ease your fingers out of him, and grab the lube again. You coat your cock with it, then look to Rook for permission. He smiles at you affectionately,

“So sweet,” he kisses you lips chastely, “you know how to beg, don’t you?” 

“Please, mommy, please let me fuck you,” you whine, your hands squeezing the meat of his thighs so you can ground yourself. Rook lets out a pleased hum, and aligns himself with your dick. You watch as he lowers himself inch by inch until he’s fully seated on you.

“Mama,” you gasp, feeling overwhelmed beyond belief already. Rook doesn’t let you adjust to the feeling of his hot, wet, clenching hole, before he starts moving. “Mommy- Rook- wait-” he pauses, holding himself up with just your tip inside. 

“Were you going to cum, mon trésor?” he asks breathlessly. You nod, and he moans, “that’s okay, that’s okay,” he reassures, kissing you lovingly, “tell me when you’re ready, my love.” A couple heavy, steadying breaths later you feel good enough to continue, and you tell him as much.

Once again Rook slides down your cock, and sets up a slow pace for you. 

“It makes mommy very happy that- ah- I have this effect on you,” he confesses, gazing at you fiercely, the way he looks at you when you catch his eye across the packed halls and you already know he’s been looking at you the whole time. “Hah, my pussy feels so-oh good, non?” you groan and nod, your hips jerking up into him, he grins wildly, “you only want mommy, oui? Oh, you’d only fuck me? You’d only love me?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, grasping weakly at his thighs, and letting him ride you into the bed. 

“Say it,” he all but begs, picking up the pace.

“Nghh, I only wuh-want you mommy, and I oh-only wanna fuck you, ah-and I only love you,” you struggle through it, your brain muddled with lust, but that doesn’t seem to phase Rook. He bounces on your cock, moaning at your words, clenching tightly around you. And then, catching you entirely off guard, Rook cums. 

His mouth drops open, letting out erratic breaths as he rides himself through his orgasm, his cum making a mess of your stomach and chest. Awestruck, you watch him, getting so close to your own climax, yet you’re unable to finish before he slows down and slumps against you.

“Mommy?” you can’t help but sound so small at this moment, so unsure of what’s going to happen next, all tense and stressed over not being able to cum. Rook runs a hand through his hair, then gives you a soft smile. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he leans in to kiss you, “ah, that took me off guard as well,” he confesses. You whine as he begins to lift himself off your lap. Rook shushes you, “don’t fret, mommy is going to make you feel good,” he promises. 

Rook lifts off your cock, then pushes you so you’re laying down fully. He collects his cum from where it splattered against your bodies, then lifts his hand to your mouth. You drop your jaw obediently, and clean up his fingers, moaning at the taste. 

“Good boy, now,” he takes his fingers from your mouth, “I recall telling you that you could take me in your mouth earlier,” your eyes widen as you too remember his words. There’s a few seconds of readjusting, and then Rook has his thighs on either side of your face, his flaccid penis just inches away from your awaiting mouth.

Not wasting another moment, he eases his cock inside of your mouth, and you take all of him inside easily. It’s different from when you’ve sucked off his erect dick, that much is obvious. You simply hold him in your mouth, sucking and swallowing around him, cleaning his cock of any leftover cum. As you hold him in your mouth, the outside world disappears fully, and you sink into the happy, fuzzy feeling you only get with Rook.

“Ah, look at you,” Rook muses, tracing the features of your face lovingly, “my sweet boy, taking me so well, making me feel so good.” You feel him twitch in your mouth, and pre leaks from your neglected dick. “Submissive, pacified, and impeccable,” you moan around him, and his dick begins to swell in your mouth. “All mine, making me feel good, only me,” he rambles, and you know from the wild look on his face that warning bells should be ringing, but currently all you can feel is euphoria. 

Your eyes fluttered shut at some point, as your mouth fills with his hardening dick. You have to stop yourself from choking as it presses against your throat. If drool is seeping from your mouth from the intrusion, you’re too far gone to realize it. 

When you feel a hand circle around your dick, your eyes open up. Rook, arching his back and reaching behind himself to jerk you off, is the sight you’re met with. The lube still wet on your dick allows for him to stroke you smoothly. His thighs squeeze around your head as he stabilizes himself. 

You moan around his length, jerking your hips into his touch. Rook smiles down at you, “are you close, mon amour?” he asks breathlessly, shallowly thrusting his now fully hard dick further down your throat.

You don’t answer- you can’t, of course- but the way your dick twitches and leaks pre is evidence enough. He quickens his pace then gives special attention to your tip; the fire in your loins grows, and you feel your cock twitch. He’s pulling off all the stops, and it’s having the desired effect on you. You grab his hips, squeezing the flesh there and pulling him closer, so his cock is as far down your throat as possible, and your nose is buried fully in his pubic hair.

“Ah-” Rook gasps, “go ahead baby, cum for mommy,” he murmurs, looking at you through his lashes. His permission topples you over the edge with a groan and a hip thrust. Your eyes glaze over, pleasure overcoming every ounce of your being. 

Rook catches your cum in his hand, carefully working you off until you come down from your high. Nearly a second later, he cums for a second time, down your throat. You swallow it down, choking and gurgling around him as it shoots down your throat and into your stomach. 

In a haze, you keep sucking and licking around his cock until he begins to lift his hips. “Come on, love,” he coaxes you to let him go. You lick your drool slicked lips once his cock leaves your mouth, a satisfied smile gracing your face. Rook mirrors your smile, flopping down next to you. 

He wipes his cum covered hand on your bedding, then hauls you into his arms. You’re still in that fuzzy space where you aren’t fully there, but you know you like being held, so you press yourself as much as you can against him. This pleases Rook immensely. 

“Bien précieux,” he says softly, “my darling treasure. I love you so much,” he looks expectantly down at you. Wanting nothing more than to please him, you reply with a hoarse,

“Love you too.” Rook hums, 

“It’ll just be the two of us together forever, isn’t that right mon cher?” he asks, taking advantage of your sleepy, eager to please state. You nod, and Rook kisses you before you both succumb to your exhaustion. 

You sleep soundly in his arms, unaware to the fact that you’d just sealed your fate with Rook.

#this fic is the equivalent of me going for a meditative retreat #cw yandere #cw mommy kink #cw possessiveness #cw jealousy #cw dumbification #cw feminization #spice #rook hunt x male reader

[knoxmares]

housewife in the making - mozus trein x dom top amab reader

MINORS DNI

tags: feminization, breeding kink, alcohol mention

“What’s wrong, love?” you allow your fingertips to span across Trein’s exposed chest, holding him close to you as you teasingly whisper in his ear. “You act like you’ve never poured wine before despite doing it for the better part of two decades.” your eyes focus on his quivering hand that hesitates in lifting the bottle. 

“Forgive me if I hesitate in this particular circumstance” a breathy exhale escapes him, hole clenching around your length, which is buried inside him. He might as well not be wearing anything at all with the way you have his thin silk robe gathered at his waist, lapels pulled widely apart. “You mustn’t move.” He orders gently. “It’s expensive wine.”

“So… I shouldn’t do this?” you slowly yet forcefully roll your hips into him, rubbing his prostate. Your hands rise with his quick intake of breath, and his hands grip the counter.

“No you shouldn’t” his exhale comes in the form of a low chuckle, a grace the strict man would never give to anyone else so froward. “You are so insatiable tonight, requiring me to present you with both a late night refreshment and myself” fond amusement overlays his words, one hand now affectionately laying atop your own. Fingertips dig into your skin as you begin to move again, your gentle thrusts bringing on a wave of pleasure. 

“Yet I know how eager you are to satisfy me, Mozus.” He lets out a soft moan, tilting his head backwards. “You’re like my perfect little housewife” your hand not held in his tight grasp slowly trails down his abdomen. “I should buy you one of those frilly aprons, so you’re always ready and exposed for me” his cock twitches at your slight touch, fingertips grazing the underside of his erect shaft. 

“Please” he begs barely above a whisper. The sound of his cute whining soon punctuates his shallow breaths as your hand wraps around him, stroking him slowly. 

“You sound so pretty when you beg, baby.” You can’t help but speed up the movement of your hips. “Makes me wanna fill you up” he moans your name loudly in response. “You like the sound of that, do you? Love the idea of having my babies?” Your balls slap against him as you thrust into him deeper, not slowing down. His cock is so slick with precum it glides easily in your hand as he’s pushed forward from the force of your thrusts. 

“That’s it. You feel so good clenching around me. I can tell you’re close, so go ahead and cum with me, baby” his body shakes, a high pitched moan being ripped from his throat as he finishes in your hand and you spill your release into him. You hold him flush up against you as you both come down from your highs, pressing a kiss to his shoulder that is revealed now that his robe has slipped off of it. 

“Okay, I’ll let you pour the wine. I really am famished now” you attempt to swipe a cracker with your clean hand, but Trein pulls it back against his chest. 

“You go get yourself cleaned up and wait for me. I’ll tidy up myself and take care of things here. Better to avoid any further distractions” he pats your hand and glances back at you pointedly. 

“Whatever you say, darling.”

#dom reader #top reader #top male reader #sub trein #mozus trein x reader #twst smut #cw feminization #cw breeding kink #twst ☆ trein !

[alohomoraurmom]

I’m gonna say it—some of y’all be using the ftm!reader tag as an excuse to write PIV smut. Why is a trans man getting called good girl in front of my eyes. why is he delicate and soft and curvy and petite with big boobs. if it wasn’t literally almost every single one I see it would be different. do not use ftm people as a vehicle to write straight-but-not-really-smut. fuck.

#male!reader #ftm!reader #fem! reader #f!reader #m!reader #gn!reader #masc!reader #ftm does not mean woman in a different font #why are we feminizing the trans men

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Deer's Prince(ss)

Male Deertaur Yandere x Feminized Male Wolf Hybrid Reader (CW: Noncon, feminization, misgendering, inhuman genitalia, breeding, fingering, overstimulation, reader fucked out of their mind, chasing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 1.1k

You were sprinting through the forest, running from the prince who owned you.

Under normal circumstances, you would have been able to move a lot more stealthily and gracefully, but continued captivity had dulled your senses and abilities.

When the kingdom of the deertaurs finally won the decades long war against the wolf folk they demanded many things in the treaty to end the war.

One of the things they demanded was a princess to marry their son, marriage was a typical way to seal an agreement of peace.

But there was no princess, instead they took you. And Prince Inthil had made you into his princess. Treating you like a dainty flower instead of the proud wolf hybrid that you were! Going so far as to even dress you in frilly dresses and address as a girl… and bed you as one too…

Having had as much as you could handle you fled. You tore off the female clothing and ran naked into the woods. Treaty be damned, you didn’t deserve this!

But being pampered as a fragile little lady had made your footfalls heavy and clumsy, it may have been enough to outrun a human, but certainly not Prince Inthil. His deceptively lean body was fast and powerful, four legs carrying him like he was the wind itself.

Suddenly you felt a sharp yank on your arm. You shuddered as Inthil pulled you close, you had thought you were still a bit ahead of the deer man.

His creepy grin looked even more sinister under the light of the moon, his long blond hair softly glowing, and his eyes looking at you with twisted adoration and amusement.

If you had only been looking at his face you may have mistaken him for a beautiful woman. But his muscles, body hair on his human half, and antlers on his head proved otherwise.

“Hello my lady~ You mustn’t run off like that, it is far too dangerous for a little girly to be running around in the woods at night by herself! If you wanted a moonlit stroll, I would have accompanied you~”

You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was powerful. He lifted you up and pressed you against a tree.

“If my father knew my wife ran off like that it could start a war! Don’t worry princess, I won’t tell. After all, I am sure it just slipped your mind to ask me to come with you, RIGHT?!”

As he said that last word he roughly pulled you forward then slammed you back against the rough bark. It did not hurt much, but you gasped in surprised.

Prince Inthil took this opportunity and kissed you deeply. Hungrily. His tongue swirling around yours as it invaded your mouth.

You shivered. He finally broke the kiss, leaving you both panting for oxygen.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking so much. I know what will warm you up.”

He stroked your cheek tenderly, but you knew what that look and tone of voice meant.

You growled, baring your teeth as your tail bristled and your ears moved back, almost flat, against your head.

“Awe, I bet a nice breeding will help your sour mood too…”

There were no clothes for him to pull off of you this time. He laid you down on the cool forest floor. You started to move but he stomped a hoof on you with enough force for you to get the memo.

You did what was expected of you. Keeping your face down you arched your ass up.

“My bitch must be in heat to present her pussy so nicely for me~” He cooed in his sickeningly sweet voice.

You were sniffing as tears rolled down your face uncontrollably. You were a man and you didn’t want this, what had you ever done to anyone to deserve being forced to be a girl and raped constantly.

“Don’t cry my love. I always make love with you gently, I know how delicate you are~”

You didn’t care how gentle he was, it was still against your will and sometimes forced with a bit of pain. Like just now when he had stomped his hoof on you.

You could feel his slimy cock rubbing up against your hole, eager to slide into you, but he made himself resist the lure of your insides for a moment while he prepped you.

He did this by using the tip of his prick to massage your entrance, and lather it in precum.

Then he slowly, bit by bit, slid into your ass. He gasped as he entered you.

“G-gods princess , your cunt is amazing~”

You just fit him so well, it was like sliding into a warm glove made specifically for his 10in cock.

He was large and powerful, and like always he had to resist just pounding into you with reckless abandon. It took all his power not to.

But he had to make sure you were treated like the frail lady that you were, it wouldn’t do for him to harm a princess, it would be unthinkable.

So instead he savored it, and eventually his careful ministrations were met with your beautiful little whimpers and moans of pleasure.

You always tried to stifle them away from him, but you never managed to.

His cock was kissing your walls so tenderly, touching that spot inside you that he always seemed to find.

Prince Inthil managed to coax several orgasms out of you, making you pant and gasp with each thrust into your overstimulated body. You couldn’t help humping into your hand, desperately seeking another release as his balls finally emptied into you.

“You make such lovely sounds when we make love~”

He picked up your cum leaking body and held you close, you were so fucked out that you couldn’t do anything, your arms were like jelly from being in that pose for so long.

You muttered something incomprehensible and went limp as he put you over his shoulders. He chose to interpret the noises as a declaration of love.

“Awe, I love you too. I knew all you needed was a good breeding~”

The prince kissed the top of your head softly before smiling to himself. He just had the most wonderful idea. He’d quite like to hear those cute sounds of yours on the way home.

As he slowly hauled you back home he slid a couple fingers into your cum-lubed ass, eliciting more of those cute little gasps and moans, albeit tired and weaker ones, from your pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry darling, when we get back we can mate some more before I clean you up."

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #male reader #feminized male reader #male yandere x male reader #my ocs #yandere boyfriend #yandere husband #yandere prince #yandere royalty #My OC Inthil #yandere imagine #yandere scenario

[kitoshii]

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male character | pt 2

lovin ? kinda psuedocest , feminization , breeding , degradation & praise , size kink / size difference , small reader , overstim …

your first meeting.. was a weird one. your moms telling you the two of you are going for dinner and of course this is a surprise - eating out is not a normal occurrence in your family, home cooked meals are much preferred, and you’re especially surprised when she says to dress in something nice. yet, you pick out clothes, something form flattering yet dressy, and the two of you are on your way to the restaurant when she proposes an idea, as if its from the top of her head. “why don’t we invite another to join us?”

youre naturally confused, but you don’t disagree, and reaching the restaurant, you’re greeted at your reserved table by two carnivores, huge ones at that, and your normally floppy ears perk up in interest. the younger one is tall, dark, and handsome and you’re swooning before you’ve even introduced yourself.

yet- you’re still confused. you’re not dumb, you can tell this was all previously planned and so as the night progresses a little more, you ask your mom about what’s going on. the oldest carnivore at the table barks out a little laugh, as does your mother, and the two explain that they’ve been seeing each other, and marriage is on the table.

so the tall, dark, and handsome wolf is going to be your tall, dark, and handsome brother. much less exciting than you’d have wished, although you are naturally happy for your mother. the night ends quite quickly, and the four of you say your goodbyes before parting ways.

your second meeting.. is what he can only describe as insufferable.

he thinks all of this is insanity. he swears under his breath, licking his fangs. his eyes are forced away from you- you, who is crossing your plush legs as you sit on the couch, leaning your weight on the armrest, exposing the side of your neck. a clean, soft surface is all he sees. something on you thats ready to be marked, littered with indents of his teeth and bruises that prove the presence of his lips on your neck- he adjusts himself where he sat, pulling his pants at the thighs to give relief to the problem he finds growing, quite literally, by the second. he’s afraid if he continues staring any longer he might do something he regrets.

he shouldn’t think this way, he knows he shouldn’t, he’s practically just met you, and under the promise of becoming siblings, but it’s not his fault, is it? you’re a pretty bunny boy, soft skin, soft ears, and soft tail on display for him, he’s known he was going to have a hard time since the moment he saw you - and even worse from the moment he smelt you. you’re so defenseless, the shorts that you’re wearing reveal far too much, your fair skin far too tempting, and your innocent eyes far too beautiful. he wants to ruin it all. he want’s to force you to have to put your guard up when he’s around, to rip the shorts off your plush thighs, exposing whats creating the small, compared to his, bulge in them, he wants to mark up your skin until you’re bleeding, nd he wants to strip the innocence from your eyes, forcing you to keep them closed tight as your tears struggle to crawl out.

his breath turns heavier, pants leaving his parted lips as he squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair - when he’s snapped out of his deep thoughts after your small hand is rested upon his arm and he’s suddenly aware that you’re directly in front of him- but the only thing he can focus on is your silky thighs, the cute bulge in the middle of them, and how much smaller your hand is than his because fuck, he could ruin you so easily it’s driving him insane.

a soft growl escapes from his throat and he notices the way your hand quickly retracts, and he finally tears his gaze away from his eye candy, trailing his eyes up to your face, noticing the way your long, soft ears pin backwards, as if you were a dog. worry is clear in your eyes and he raises an eyebrow, crossing his legs inconspicuously.

“are you feeling alright?” you mumble softly and his mouth opens for a second before its closed again, his fangs catching on his bottom lip. your voice is sweet like honey yet soft like velvet and his ears twitch, moving in obvious attention to you.

he doesn’t answer you, he’s not even sure if he can, choosing to simply nod his head as he stands up, towering over your small frame. he thinks he hears a squeak escape from you and his hard cock twitches in his pants, flitting through every fantasy that involves your mouth.

your third, fourth and fifth can all be considered normal, but your sixth meeting.. is surprisingly his breaking point.

he prides himself on his restraint. his ability to control his emotions, his urges- but the two of you are at your mothers house, and you are, as usual, far too relaxed, and wearing far too little clothing. he sits on a chair outside in the backyard, the shade a willow tree provides and the gentle wind cooling his face - while his lower half burns in desperation.

you’re none the wiser, innocently indulging in boy-ish behavior as you scavenge green grass for anything that may catch your eye, knees bending the blades underneath you. your back is to him - of course it is, he cant seem to catch a break, he mumbles irritatedly, curling his hands into fists from where they sat on the rests of the chair, his piercing eyes fixated on the curve of your ass, the arch of your back, the squish of your thighs, and the way he can perfectly see a prominent imprint of your balls when you bend far enough forward.

for a few moments he thinks you’re doing this on purpose, that you know of his perverted thoughts and are doing this to maybe punish him, but when your soft ears perk up, and you look back at him with sparkling eyes, a grin on your face to tell him that you’ve found, hell, a cool rock? he knows you wouldn’t do that. you couldn’t do that, you’re too dense to even notice the raging hard on in his pants every time you so much as giggle.

the two of you are inside now, still left alone with each other and you decide to join him where he stood in the kitchen, hungry for something. you open the fridge, leaning down to slide the fruit drawer open, bending at the waist and fuck..

“hm?” you ask, perking up, leaning over to peek at him from behind the fridge door. did he say that aloud?

he scans your face a few minutes before striding over to where you stood. your nose twitches in confusion and despite not being scared, your ears pin themselves back, like a dog. you take a step away from the fridge, beginning to close the door behind you before he’s on you, pressing his arm past your head quickly, closing the fridge door with a bang. you jump slightly, staring at him with big, confused, and worried eyes and his cock fucking jumps because -

“do you know that i.. am a predator?” he mumbles, looking down his nose at you with lidded eyes.

theres a flash of fear in your expression and your mouth gapes slightly. “i know.” you squeak after a beat of silence, trembling hands coming to hold onto your shirt at the chest area

“you know?” he repeats, tilting his head lightly, eyes narrowing as you nod, barely noticeable. “you don’t act like you know.”

a sharp breath escapes you and it takes a minute for you to think of an answer, treading lightly.

“how am i supposed.. to act?”

“..be wary of me. act like at any moment i will pounce on you because fuck, i could.” he growls slightly, moving himself so his forearm is propping him up on the fridge and not his hand - making an already close proximity impossibly closer.

“you could?” you repeat, staring up at him with the same big, innocent eyes but now theres something missing - the worry. the fear. “why haven’t you?” it’s a small mumble, almost a nervous stammer, quiet and hesitant but he heard it. of course he heard it, you’re the only thing he is - and has been focusing on for days.

his heavy breaths pick up, and his stare never falters from your face, slowly scanning your features with calculating movements, immediately catching any change, so when a smile creeps on your lips, a little less innocent than your eyes and in a way, teasing, he catches it. immediately. and he pounces.

a desperate, muffled cry escapes from your wet lips, his big fingers pressing against your soft tongue, sometimes slipping so far back they’d tease your uvula, making you choke around his digits. his big, thick cock presses against your flush thigh for just a moment, leaving a trail of precum.

his hand that wasnt occupied in keeping you a little quieter is three fingers into your hole, tapping your prostate so hard your body jerks with every press. he’s skilled with his hands, a cocky grin overtaking his face as his ears twitch with every cute sound from your throat and every sloppy sound from your asshole. you’re tight, too tight, he’s not quite sure his dick will fit passed the tip, but he knows you want it, and god knows he wants it too.

the thought of filling you up, of wrecking your small body and moulding you into a cockwhore for him has been infecting his mind like a virus, and he’d be damned if he stopped for anything but a safe word.

a sob fills his ears and suddenly he realizes you’d came a few seconds ago, your legs trembling and kicking up from overstimulation, sensitive dick pressing into the mattress involuntarily before jerking away.

he coos, quite condescendingly, slipping his wet fingers out of your hole, placing a light tap on your balls.

“was it too much for you, bunny?” he asks, pulling you up so your back was flush with his chest, watching as you nod with a dazed look on your tear filled face.

“yeah?” a mischievous grin that you’re unable to see spreads across his lips and wandering hands snake around you, squeezing your pretty thighs, before grasping your hard cock. his breath hitches as his entire hand envelops your small cock and his own twitches, a groan escaping his throat.

“fuck,” he laughs, watching as your hips attempt to pull away from his hand. “so fuckin small compared to me.” he grins, beginning to fist your cock, twisting his wrist around it. your reaction is immediate, a loud wail echoing through the room, your hands reaching out to clasp around his bigger one in a silent plea for mercy.

with reluctance, he gives it to you, letting you fall forward on to the bed. you sniffle, hiccuping softly before pushing yourself to your knees, arching your back as far as you could with your chest to the bed, presenting your ass to him, your fluffy tail wagging in desperation.

his mouth practically waters, hand finding its way down to his dick, closing it around himself before you reach your hands behind, spreading yourself apart to expose your twitching hole. this was you submitting , giving him full control of your body and the situation, and suddenly his instincts were screaming at him to breed you. to rut into you so much that his cum was spilling out, to imprint himself onto you, and to knock you up. to fuck you so full you had to carry his pups.

his stomach coiled and suddenly he couldn’t think, he couldn’t reason. the only thing clear to him was to breed, breed, breed.

he flips you onto your back, using a generous amount of lube, allowing his cockhead to catch onto your hole. you whimper - he’s bigger than his fingers - much thicker, much longer, and much, much hotter. you barely have time to prepare yourself before he’s grabbing your thighs in his hands, the skin spilling over his fingers at how tight his grip is - and suddenly his cock is fucked into you at full force. he bottoms out first thing and even the sound of your voice is delayed, the air being punched from your chest as your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, before a loud shriek does jump through his ears as he begins rutting into you, as if he were a dog in heat.

overtaken with how tight you are around him, and how small you are compared to him, he presses your knees up, bending you in half, watching his big cock sink into your tight hole, and the sight is almost what tips him over.

“fu-huck,” he moans, his pelvis slapping harshly against your thighs with every sharp, deliberate piston of his hips. “takin’ me so well baby, pretty cunts sucking me in so nicely.”

his deep voice riddled with obvious need and want has your ass squeezing around him, your dick twitching as it slaps against your stomach with every rough thrust.

your noises are punched out of you and then cut off with every thrust, the harshness of them making your brain spin and legs convulse. his hold on you does nothing to hide the shaking of your thighs and body, and it makes him groan in satisfaction, a smug smirk overtaking his face.

your drool and tears slide down your chin, pretty, soaked eyelashes batting quickly as you struggle between keeping your eyes open or letting them roll back. his large frame adjusts on top of you, thrusts never faltering despite his red, burning cock growing closer to release. the new angle allows him to hold your legs flush to your chest with his shoulders, while giving room to hold your clawing hands into place and he smirks, before leaning back slightly - and his entire body jerks forward, mouth falling open, fangs baring to pierce harshly into your neck as his eyes roll back because fuck - the bulge in your soft stomach is proof enough that he’s making room in your gut for his huge cock, because you’re just so fucking small.

you kick and cry at his teeth piercing your skin because it hurts, it hurts, but you’re marked and claimed and now he wont stop. teeth covering the expanse of your neck, cock drilling into your prostate with no sign of stopping anytime soon. all you can do is take it like a whore.

“thas’ it.. good girl, my cock was jus’ made for you, isn’t that right, bunny?” he growls and your hard cock spits out something like cum again at just his words because god, his deep voice, the constant stimulation on your prostate and the dirty talk did something to you.

he’s rutting into you so roughly, goin’ so hard nd deep, and you claw at his shoulders, blunt nails doing no real damage, begging him with wails and sobs to hurry up and cum because your tiny cock is so spent nd your tight hole is gonna be gaping afterwards with the effort of fitting such a large cock into you.

for a moment you think this was a bad idea - you think that he wont stop until you’re passed out, his instincts running his brain too wild, but with a thrust up into your stomach and a press down onto his cock bulge from the outside - with help from a desperate wail and a squeal that escaped your mouth - he’s cumming buckets into your soft stomach with a mumbled, “gonna fuckin breed you bunny,” pumping his hot, sticky load into you, filling you so much it’s leakin’ onto the sheets, his knot pressing painfully against your ass hole, threatening a breach as he ruts up feverishly, growls and titters leaving his throat, canines biting into his lip.

hellooo, im kiyoshi, your writer, nd his is my first fanfiction ! its very self indulgent, nd eng isn’t my first language but if you enjoyed, this is me askin’ you to please reblog nd maybe even follow me to support writers ! we can become great friends ! ^.^

#sub male reader #bottom male reader #bottom reader #sub reader #bottom gn reader #sub gn reader #amab reader #dom male character #top male character #bunny hybrid #wolf hybrid #knotting cw #feminization cw #psuedocest cw #top jjk #top cod #top gojo satoru #top mha #dom top character #sub nsft #dom nsft #xo . kitoshii

[therealmilfdennys]

Hey hey hey!! i saw that billy with makeup hc and im BEGGING you to write a domtop!male reader x subbtm!billy fic 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 Smt like billy surprising the reader when they get home and reader fucks him so good thebmakeup is totally ruined YES YES YES

Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

HI, I"M NOT DEAD SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LOL. I took some creative liberty so. This is just barely proofread so I am Sorry. CW: Feminization(like a lot I'm so sorry), a little hurt/comfort, insinuated internalized homophobia, dacryphilia, boys in panties yall, smut obvi. MDNI i do Not want to be sued.

It starts off small, and slow. BIlly knows he’s handsome, takes very good care of himself to look that way. HIs hair and skin and pretty red lips, how good he smells. It’s all out of a need to look hot constantly. It starts to pick up when he moves out and in with you. He finds out about skincare, becomes obsessed. Reads every catalog he can get his hands on, 10 Tips and Tricks on Clear Skin and Mary Kay. 

It hits him just how attracted he is to the feminine side of hygiene one night when Max and El are staying over. A year and a half after the Mindflayer, eight months after Vecna. The girls are watching Pretty in Pink and painting their nails. Billy sits with them, biding his time till you come home from work, reading Little Women for the fourth time. The girls chatter over colors, Eleven has already picked a bright cherry red, claiming it matches Max’s hair. Max is considering a nice, deep and sparkly blue color or black and Billy pipes up without thinking. “Blue will match your eyes, shitbird.” Flushes a pretty pink, and ducks his head back down to faux read. 

Eleven pipes up then, innocent and gentle in her sweet little way. “You should do Billy’s too, Max. He would look nice.” 

And so when you arrive home, beat from your shift at the Krogers outside of town to find Billy watching Real Genius with the girls, his nails clean and painted a pretty sparkly pink. You’re pleasantly surprised. The blonde goes a nice red color when you take his hand, inspect his nails without judgment. “Very pretty baby, s’a good color on you.” Is your response, and you can see the tension seep from his shoulders, his nervous grin go lazy and smug. “Yeah yeah, keep it in your pants.” 

A month later is when the make up starts making an appearance. Small add-ins here and there. A nice pink lipgloss, a little mascara, some gold powder on his eyelids to go out to dinner. He’s drawn to things his mother used to wear, nothing heavy or cakey. Nice and delicate, like how he wishes he was. 

His appearance is met with the same response from you everytime. “Gorgeous, baby.” or “So pretty Bills.” It makes him turn a pretty pink everytime, look down a little bashful before he shakes into his normal Billy Hargrove persona. 

The curiosity crescendos about two months after that. You’ve been swamped with work, as has Billy who got a small job at Melvalds with Joyce. You’re just walking through the door, but you could hear the music from outside. Billy’s favorite Zeppelin tape, spitting out Dazed and Confused from the shitty little record player you’d gotten him for his birthday. 

You walk in, shut the door gently, not wanting to possibly disturb him. Your shoes and coat placed by the door. “Bills?” You call, walking down the hall to your shared room. 

A clatter then, something falling over and hitting the floor with a thunk. Your heart seizes for a moment, rushing through the door before you can think. “Billy are you- o…kay?” You ask, dazed and suddenly hot all over. 

There is Billy Hargrove, hair done up all pretty, a dark smokey eye smeared over his lids nicely, sparkly gloss on his lips. The kicker though, is the lace bulging with the print of his cock, peaking from underneath his muscle tee. You stare, bewildered and more than turned on, straining in your jeans uncomfortably. “Hey baby.” You greet, wide eyed and lips parted. 

Billy stands stock still, you can see his lip tremble from where you stand in the door way. His eyes are getting watery and his voice trembles when he speaks. “You’re home early.”

It makes you bark a laugh, walk over to the record player and turn the music down. “Uh..Uh yeah, somebody picked up the night shift so I didn’t have to..stay/” You breathe, turn to take him in again, biting your lip. “You look nice, baby, s’this all for?” You ask, and he releases a trembley breath, a wet laugh that doesnt sound genuine. You walk over to him, cup his cheeks gently. 

“Was gonna…wash it off. Before you got home.” He chokes out, voice thick with emotion, the lump in his throat growing. The admittance makes you frown. “Why would you do that, sweet thing? Hate me that much?” You pout, stroke your thumb under his eye to swipe away a fallen eyelash. He leans into your hand, sighs. “Uh uh..Didn’t uh. Didn’t think you’d like it..s’all.” 

You’ve never seen him so nervous, not even when he first got back from the Upside Down. Not when you asked him out. He’s looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, wet and so blue compared to the dark coal around them. 

“Where you gonna keep…these?” Your hand slides up under his shirt, settles on his hip to thumb over the fabric of his panties. God, he goes cherry at that, opens his mouth once, twice, settles for a shake of his head. That makes you tut gently, click your tongue disappointed. “My sweet boy, can’t believe you’d hide this from me.” You tease, make him whine. He’s pressed right up against you, hums and bites his lip when he feels your hardness pressed into his hip. “Gonna have to make up for that, hm? Think that’s fair?” 

He let out a breathless “Yes.” and all bets are off. 

These stupid satin sheets you’d splurged on are godsend against BIlly’s skin, his thighs and tummy freshly shaved. He’s spread out on his back, shirt gone and fully exposed, save his pretty black lace panties that do nothing to hide his cock. His lip gloss is a bit smeared, a byproduct of you kissing him silly a few moments ago. 

You’re between his legs, in only your boxers, nosing and kissing at his inner thighs, marveling at how soft and supple the skin is. “My pretty baby,” You start, running your nose along the length of him through the soaked material. “You’re so hard, B. Ruining those pretty panties.” You tease, a light scolding tone that makes him keen. His hands are gripping the sheets, and he’s staring down at you reverent and a little nervous as to what’s next. 

“Should eat you out, get you off with my tongue and fingers like you’re my girl.” Billy groans loud, tosses his head back and slings an arm over his face for good measure. You grin and chuckle. Spread him open just a bit more. “Oh you like that, huh baby?” And hes nodding so furiously you’re scared he’s rubbing the make up off for a split second. Ruining it before you can do it yourself. 

He opens up so sweetly, whimpering and whining and moaning like a slut when your fingers work him open. Those little panties pulled justt enough to the side.  There’s little tears in his lash line, making them clump up so prettily. His cock is drooling through the lace by the time your cock is pressed up against his pretty little hole. 

“Mm, want me to fuck you, sweet thing? Need it?” You hum, gentle and warm and Billy sobs. “Yes, yes please baby please. In me please.” 

Who are you to deny him, truly? 

He cums so quickly like this, worked up from the emotional turmoil and gentle, deep fucking you give him. Damn near feels you in his throat, pressed so close together, legs pushed up as far as they’ll go. “Uh uh uh, please. Please cum..want it..want it in me please please please.” And fuck does he beg pretty, you can’t help but cum deep in him when he begs so sweetly. Looking up at you, make up ruined, mascara running. Looking debauched. 

Its after the clean up and come down, after the soft, gentle kisses you leave on his cheek and shoulder, over hickies and finger print shaped bruises that he speaks up. “I uh, I take it the make up was appreciated?” He croaks out, throat sore from crying and whining all night. 

You laugh out loud, shoulders shaking and mouth pressed into his pec. “Yes, yes very much so.” 

It’s safe to say the lingerie and mascara don’t leave the bedroom scene anytime soon.

#billy hargove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x male!reader #i couldve mothered him :( #billy hargrove fluff #CW: feminization #CW: dacryphilia #i'm depraved please forgive me he's all i think about

[dabisbratz]

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.

#₊˚⊹♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒶𝓈𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝑔𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒 #mgonna be outta commission for 18-20 business weeks #kiddin. #shota aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shouta aizawa imagine #aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #anime x male reader #x male reader smut #bnha x male reader #x male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #x sub male reader #aizawa x y/n #shouta x you #shouta x reader #mha x male reader #mha x trans reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x you #aizawa x you #aizawa x male reader

[sooniebby]

Restraining.. but it’s the guys weight holding you down.. bonus if he’s your sister’s ex boyfriend ;) bottom male reader, reader is mentioned to have a cock. Spanking, feminization, and light degradation. (Adding dub con just to be safe but reader consents to everything)

Smut idea where reader ends up getting fucked by his sister’s ex boyfriend and finds out he likes bigger and older men :3

After your sister, Karina,’s break up with her boyfriend, she’s been a bit of a mess. Even though she was the one who initiated the breakup. She never told you why but she certainly told you what she’d miss from her ex.

His smile, his hair, his hands, and his big co—

Yeah, it was getting annoying. You were honestly glad. You didn’t like the guy. Some bad boy wannabe wearing leather jackets and riding a motorcycle. He was.. like in his mid 20s! Too old to be a bad boy! You were at least glad you’d never see him again

But that wasn’t true when you ended up seeing him in your home… the day you were trying on a pair of shorts Karina got you.. the shorts were way too short for you—your ass cheek was basically popping out and you couldn’t even wear underwear with it.

And now here you were, gripping your bedsheets tightly with the shorts around your legs as you bit down on your lip. A constant force pushing up toward the headboard as he fucked you like an animal.

You could’ve said no. And really, you were about to.. but damn, he was kinda hot. Tall, lean, and tanned skin. Jet black hair.. why did Karina break up with him..? Personality maybe?

Fuck a personality right now though…

Anyway, while you lose your virginity to your sister’s ex boyfriend, all you could do was whimper and whine. You tried moving but his body was pressed down onto you, forcing you to take whatever he gave you

And what he gave you was harsh deep thrusts. Easily reaching your bundle of nerves and earning muffled screams from your lips. You shifted underneath him at each graze of your prostate but was only met with a swift spank to your ass.

He didn’t even say much for you to drop your shorts. A simple raised eyebrow and a smirk got you wet. Which is… very virgin like but at least you’re not a virgin now :)

You didn’t even think about how weird it was that this guy, who was about eight years older than you and dated Karina for almost two years was fucking you without any sense of guilt.

But fuck… your sister was right. He did have a huge cock.. but suddenly you thought about your sister getting fucked by this guy and now you felt disgusted. You tried to move again but was met with another harsh spank and him pushing you even deeper onto the bed

It looked like you weren’t leaving anytime soon. And embarrassing enough, you took it. Future you would deal with the guilt of fucking Karina’s ex.. present you would enjoy your first ever dick

“You do this for everyone?”

Oh. He can talk? You only mewled as his thrusts seemed to only get quicker, the sounds of skin slapping filling your room.

“Dressing in these type of shorts,” he tugged at the shorts around your legs. “How many did you seduce with these?”

You could only try to ignore him and just enjoy the feeling of getting fucked but he grabbed your hair and pulled. A cry left your lips as you glanced at him, a faint smirk on his lips.

“You’ve always been cute.. glad to know your pussy is tighter than Karina’s”

You couldn’t help but mewl at his words, your tight heat tightening around his cock. His smirk only grew—his eyes staring knowingly into yours.

He’s got you now.

You came soon after that in embarrassment. How could that even make you cum? But he loved it. His past thrusts were fast but it felt absent.. now, he was fucking you like he was wanting to breed you.

Your lips were continuously open, loud and unabashed screams left your lips. Each thrust caused your body to push forward violently.

“Look at you… taking me well for your first time. Y’know.. I think I know why some people love fucking virgins.”

His thrusts slowed down, earning a whine from you. He was slow and methodical which was good at first but randomly, he slammed into you, earning a cry in pleasure from you.

“Not for the innocence… but for showing someone new how good it is to be fucked. And the discovery of themselves.”

He slammed into you again.

“I think I don’t want this to be a one time thing. This pussy’s too good to give up.” He gave a soft squeeze to your ass.

“…’s not a pussy…” you slurred out, practically cock drunk at this point.

He only grinned. His thrusts were slow as he brushed against your prostate before stopping right there as he painted your insides. You gasped in disbelief, feeling the warm liquid.

He pulled out and got off from on top of you. You continued to stay on the bed—just hoping he’d leave now so you could sleep in shame for sleeping with Karina’s ex.

But you heard the sound of a camera going off. With the last bit of energy you had, you turned yourself around to look at him as he smirked at his phone.

He turned the phone to you, showing you the picture he took. Your bare ass as cum dripped out of your fucked out hole. Luckily you were face wasn’t in the picture but if someone had been in your room, they could tell it was your bedroom based on the posters you could see in the background

“Safe keeping. I had to delete Karina’s nudes… so I need some new material. You’ll be giving me more, yeah?”

You could only stare at him dumbly as he grabbed his shoes and slipped them back on. He grabbed his jacket and looked back at you. You could feel his eyes roaming your body before looking down at your hole that was still leaking with cum.

A twisted smirk was on his lips at the sight. You blushed in embarrassment and looked away.

“It’ll be fun helping you learn about yourself more… I’ll see you soon. Wear those shorts again, alright?”

With that—he was gone. But the only thing on your mind right now was…

Why was he even here in the first place?

And uh.. more importantly—what was he going to do with that picture?

I’ve always liked the idea of sister exbf but only if the bf is older and a bit mean, but I certainly think I can make him meaner for next time.. how do you guys like him?

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @mello-life69 @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @nakedtoasterr @ofclyde @smellwell @tomoeroi @kaedezu @loivre @millecka @iwishtobeacrow

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #oc x reader #smut drabble #smut ideas #mlm nsft #mlm ns/fw #smut prompts

[knoxmares]

celebratory cool down - mozus trein x dom top amab reader

MINORS DNI

tags: slight feminization of trein, cold temperature play with ice, alcohol mention

To celebrate the end of the school year Trein requests nothing but to have you by his side as he unwinds in the solace of his bedroom. Of course you’re all too happy to comply, bringing a suiting champagne for the occasion. That very bottle sits half empty in an ice bucket on his nightstand now, and you can feel its effect on Trein as your thumb glides over the hollow of his cheek, his skin slightly feverish beneath your touch.

Slow and gentle kisses turn more sensual as your hand slides under the material of his robe, fingertips grazing his nipple. Trein softly mewls into your mouth encouraging your explorative touch that trails from his chest down to the grey hairs of his happy trail. His robe that was only barely tied together easily comes undone, exposing his right side as your fingers move leisurely to his hip, massaging the loose skin of his stomach.

Your ministrations soon have him panting into your mouth, lips unmoving until he manages to whisper the word ‘please’ against your own curved lips. Your grin only grows as he guides your hands to his bulge, the lace of his panties exciting you.

“So this is the type of unwinding you had in mind, huh?” your fingertips gently tease the head of his cock through the fabric. “We both know you only wear these when you want to be thoroughly fucked, darling.” you allow your thumb to slide under the emerald band before letting it slap softly back against his skin. “Is that what you want?” He nods meekly at your words, a sliver of a moan slipping out.

“Hm? You can talk about the history of magic for hours, yet you can’t form a single sentence to tell me what you want? That’s quite shameful, Mozus” Predictably he lets out a breathy chuckle at your teasing. It’ll take more than that to get him truly flustered, and with the ice bucket in your line of sight you have the perfect idea.

Without a word, you straddle his thighs, reaching over to pick up one of the larger ice cubes. He regards your actions with a curious lift of the brow, lips parting slightly in surprise when you tell him to open his mouth. When you press the cold object to his mouth, however, he obediently widens his lips enough to let you slip it in.

“Good boy.” you affectionately brush your thumb across his moist bottom lip. “Now hold that on your tongue for me, baby. Don’t bite into it, or I’ll have to bite into you” you give him a little wink before trailing kisses down his chest.

He watches you with rapt attention, corner of his lips twitching upwards despite being pursed in curiosity or perhaps from the cold. Soon both his robe and panties lay discarded on the floor, and you sit positioned between his legs. A couple of bruises begin to bloom on his chest. A test of his ability to follow your simple order, and somehow he managed to hold the ice in his mouth even through his moaning.

“You did so good for me, baby, but I’ll be taking that now” you hold your hand at his chin expectantly. His eyebrows instantly furrow as he brings a hand up to shield his mouth from your view.

“That would be quite uncouth” his voice is muffled with the ice still in his mouth, but the displeasure in his tone his clear, finely honed from years of being the infamous strict professor. You’re not one of his students, however, so you meet his reaction with clear amusement.

“Don’t you trust me to make you feel good?” His features soften a bit, hand slowly coming down to reveal flushed cheeks as he looks down at your hand. He reluctantly lets the ice fall into your hand along with an inevitable amount of spit.

It’s a sight that makes you subtly palm yourself as your already hard dick twitches, and when you watch him lick his lips with eyes averted, too embarrassed to meet your gaze, you can’t help but lean forward pressing your lips against his. You force your tongue through his lips, moaning in pleasure as it collides with the cool sensation that permeates his mouth. The way his fingers grasp your bicep indicate that it feels just as good for him.

You pull away, glancing at the ice still carefully cradled in your palm. It’s maybe only a quarter of the size it was before, and looking at Mozus you let its remains drop down just above his belly button. He gasps, hips slightly bucking upwards. He seems surprised by his own reaction, so you decide to push him a bit further by bending down to blow on it. The ice barely moves but the tiny pool of liquid around it spreads across the skin of his abdomen, which you follow with your tongue, making his body tremble beneath you.

“Can you take a bit more, darling?” You ask grabbing another cube of ice from the bucket.

“Y-yes” he affirms. “It feels quite nice actually” he punctuates his sentence with a close lipped but genuine smile. So with his permission you tease his sensitive parts further by taking the ice cube and slowly gliding it across his skin stopping every so often to lightly blow, eliciting goosebumps along the trail of moisture you’ve created. You start at his neck and watch him squirm and gasp as you give special attention to both his nipples. Finally you take it down to his inner thighs, chuckling as he whimpers, trying to squeeze them together like some sensitive virgin.

“Oh great seven” he moans lifting his hips off the bed. His cock is pretty and swollen now, so you take it in your warm hand that’s not handling the ice. You consider pressing the ice to his tip, but decide to bring your teasing to a close since you are already eager to be inside him. You drop the ice onto the sheets, an action Trein would have scolded you for if he didn’t have his eyes screwed shut in bliss, and bring your cold fingers to his entrance.

The cool prodding makes him gasp and since your fingers are wet from the melting ice you just barely stretch him, inserting one fingertip. You’re delightfully surprised by how tightly he clenches around it and how he writhes more than normal. It only spurs you to stroke his dick with more fervor, which is already slick in your hand. You watch as the combination of your warm and cool touch overwhelms him, his thrusts into your hand becoming youthful and more desperate until he reaches his climax, a thin stream of cum spurting onto his stomach.

“Look at you, baby. You did so well. I’m so proud of you” you praise him. You take one of the hands that rests on his heaving chest and bring it to your lips to kiss his knuckles. “It felt good, right?” He meets your smug smile with a hum and a heavy lidded fond gaze. The cute response causes your selfish desires to flare up once again. 

“I’m going to warm up that hole of yours with my dick now, okay?”

“Of course you are” he warmly chuckles. “Just be gentle. There’s only so much excitement I can take, you know.”

“Of course, my love”

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