Captain Stark

[seavannahs]

just thinking about men who lean their heads down to listen to what you have to say because of the height difference, humming along to your words, accidentally nosing against your cheek because he knows it flusters you before murmuring, "keep talking, sweet girl. i'm listening."

[gutsby]

Come Again?

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After you spend spring break away from him, Joel just wants to make sure you’ve been good.

Warnings: 18+. FAUXCEST + PUSSY INSPECTION —AS ALWAYS: IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T READ IT. Joel and Reader are not related, just roleplaying. Age gap. Two (2) pussy spanks. Daddy kink. Hyperspermia* This is a work of fiction, and all characters are adults.

*I’ve explained what this entails in a separate post - read here!

Word count: 5.2k

You came home half-drunk and baked from the sun.

A stupid smile played at the corners of your lips, despite the grueling two-hour flight that had somehow turned into five that morning with all the delays, gate changes, TSA short-staffing, ground operations snafus, and screaming, kicking, crying children that clearly couldn’t have hated air travel more if they tried.

Panama City Beach for spring break was a good fucking time regardless of all the nonsense that it took to get there. Your string bikini was practically glued to your skin underneath your clothes, and your brain was filled to the brim with wild and dumbass memories that would last you several lifetimes, if not longer.

“Bye-eee! Try not to die!!” your friend yelled presently, leaning out the driver’s side window of her car to wave.

You stood on the front stoop of your boyfriend’s house, one hand shielding your face from the sun, and you smiled. Pained and now nursing a hangover that felt like it might legitimately kill you, you shouted back:

“You, too!”

“Tell your dad I said hi!”

And before you could return with so much as another syllable—or, your middle finger, as your friend had probably expected—the little sedan sped off down the road. You were left standing on the porch with all your luggage, shaking your head and thinking it was pretty insane to be dating a man almost three times your age.

Knowing, deep down, your friends would have a whole lot more to say about your relationship if they knew what other things happened behind closed doors.

Shortly, the one in front of you creaked open.

Joel stood there. His brown eyes shone.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Admittedly, this was a fucked up way of showing love.

What you and Joel had come to explore over the course of the last year wasn’t normal by any means. People would probably call you freaks if they knew. This…routine that the two of you had fallen into had started out as a joke, frankly. And a bad one at that.

‘Daaad,’ you’d groaned one day, pulling the covers over your head in an effort to defy his beckoning hands. ‘I don’t wanna go to school. I wanna stay here with you.’

The ‘funny’ part was, you didn’t have class that morning or afternoon. Joel obviously wasn’t your father, and it sure as fuck wasn’t his job to make sure you got your butt out of bed. It had still ended with you folded in half underneath him, ankles bobbing at either side of his head while he drilled you into the mattress.

That was when both of you learned you liked roleplay.

Daddy and his darling daughter, sweetheart and her doting father—whatever you two called it, it worked.

It turned you on to no end pretending like Joel was something a little more paternal. And dirty. And wrong, running his hands over your body with a darkened glint, like, ‘I really shouldn’t be doin’ this, sweetie.’

And yet you did, every single time.

It only got better with practice, and the fantasy took on wilder and more intricate, filthy dimensions every day.

Tonight, Joel made dinner. You sat and ate in relative silence, admiring the grays in your old man’s beard and wondering if he might not have aged a year in the week you’d been gone. You took another bite of your chicken fried steak and smiled—the gravy was perfect.

“I got somethin’ on my face, babygirl?” Joel hummed.

Across the table, he met your gaze, and your grin grew.

You probably did look silly chewing and staring, but you didn’t care. Joel didn’t seem to mind it, either.

“Nuh-uh,” you answered.

“Nuh-what?” Joel returned, a little more pointed.

You swallowed and then straightened in your seat. Softly, apologetically, and also making sure to lick one corner of your lips as you did, you corrected yourself:

“No, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Already, Joel was somewhat disgruntled that you hadn’t bothered to tell him what time your plane would be landing, and that he hadn’t been able to pick you up from the airport because of it—‘You know I’m not crazy ‘bout surprises, baby. And your safety’s most important. OK?’ Ever since then, it seemed as though the guy were trying to find some reason to scold you, and be stern. Whenever you spent too much time away from him, he had a tendency to get a little more possessive; this evening was no exception.

“Clean plate club, remember, pumpkin?” Joel pointed with his fork at your plate of food, still only half-eaten.

Beside the china, on the table, your phone buzzed.

“I…um,” you started off, slow. Distracted. “I ain’t—”

“‘Am not.’”

When you looked up from where you’d just read the notification that had popped up on your device, Joel was scowling again. Challenging you with his eyes.

Sure you wanna go this way, sweetheart?

“I mean, I am not too…hungry,” you said.

“Well, you said you’d eat it, remember?”

Simultaneously, your phone vibrated again.

That seemed to snag Joel’s attention well enough—almost immediately then, he rose, clearing his throat.

The little breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen wasn’t particularly large, and he didn’t have to travel very far to reach your spot from across the way. Just as you were retrieving your utensils again, conceding, ‘OK, OK, I’ll eat it! I promise I’ll eat all my food,’ Joel was standing over your shoulder, hand quick as a whip to land on the back of your chair as he leaned right in.

“I’ll eat it, Dad, I’ll—”

“—be a good girl, or I’ll put somethin’ else in that pretty little mouth’a yours that won’t fit as nice as this steak.”

OK.

OK, fine, maybe you did want to suck his dick, but—

Another two painfully loud vibrations sounded.

From: Harry Castillo

Make it home OK?

Missin’ you pretty lady

Fuck if that stupid motherfucker couldn’t catch a hint if it were hotglued to his palm. Inwardly, you groaned.

Outwardly, you bat your lashes at your pretend father.

“I’ll eat it all, don’t worry, D—” you started.

“Who the fuck is Harry?”

Well, it just wasn’t fair.

A dipshit like that texting at a time like this.

You’d been towing what almost anyone else would’ve considered a razor-thin line between discipline and getting the lights fucked out of you right there on the kitchen table, and then came the mess with the texts.

On your second night out at the beach, you and your friends had made the acquaintance of a group of guys from Ole Miss—all seniors in Sigma Chi, all super nice, and all on their spring break together—and you’d gotten along great. Drank heavily and bar-hopped from place to place throughout the week, making a groupchat to keep up-to-date on plans. You never thought much of it, or of any of them, but you’d had a sneaking suspicion that Harry Castillo was definitely into you, even though he knew you had an ‘older’ boyfriend back home. The funny thing was, he probably figured Joel was a grad student just a couple years your senior and not an almost fifty-year-old man.

Damn if Harry could see you now, getting your legs spread wide over this old, oak farmhouse table for two.

You weren’t getting fucked anytime soon, though.

No, your dear old man was making damn sure of that—he had you half-spreadeagle there getting absolutely nothing while you sat and squirmed and wanted to cry.

“Dad, this isn’t fair!” you huffed, blowing out a loud and indignant breath. Squeezing the edge of the table underneath your butt and wishing your skimpy blue bikini bottom was off and not just pulled to the side.

Joel didn’t gratify girls who’d been bad, he’d told you.

“‘Hey. Just wanted to say…you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I wish I could’ve gotten to know you better. If you’re ever down in Oxford, just H-M-U.’” Your boyfriend rattled off the lines by heart—that particular text had stuck with him, for obvious reasons.

After seeing the two most recent messages from Harry, he’d gone through your entire text thread with the guy. All of six or seven texts had been exchanged between you and Harry while you’d been in PCB, mostly to update the other on bars and parties and events your friend groups were going to. But, of course, Harry had had to end the week by sending that message Joel had just repeated, after everybody had said their goodbyes and the guy suddenly felt the need to confess all of his deepest, dumbest feelings for you.

You’d left him on read and never responded to it.

You had zero desire to entertain any of that bullshit, and by that point in time, you were already on your way back home, so why even bother sending a rejection?

Evidently, though, Harry still had had hope, as he’d sent you a string of texts during your dinner with Joel:

Hey you

Just got back to Oxford 😌

And then:

Make it home OK?

Missin’ you pretty lady

Now you were paying for that goddamn idiotic persistence in spades—Joel had you splayed over his table like you were the main course, and he wasn’t particularly hungry. He was just there to toy with you.

Torture you.

“Y’know why I hate whenever you’re away for too long?” The man’s voice was low, tone serious. His old, weathered hand slid up and down your inner thigh, and the texture was almost like sandpaper. The calluses on his palm made your shivers multiply a thousandfold.

“W-Why?” you stammered before sucking in a breath.

“Can’t...keep my hands on you. Keep an eye on this.”

And with that, Joel finally moved his touch to your wet and aching seam. Like he knew your body better than the back of his own hand—which, in truth, he probably did—he started to thumb little circles over your clit.

Your head fell back on a soft moan.

All of your body was hypersensitized and as full to the brim with energy as a live wire at the moment; you couldn’t help it. You also couldn’t resist blurting out:

“Oh, fuck, Dad. Fuck me, please.”

It was lewd.

It was wrong.

It was everything you simply weren’t able to keep contained inside your chest and nothing of what your faux father, Joel, wanted to hear from you right now, strict as he was about you not using crude language.

So, you weren’t surprised in the least when that thumb on your clit was replaced by a spank between your lips: one quick, light swat on your slit just hard enough to grab your attention, but not sharp enough to hurt you.

Still, you keened, whining petulantly.

“Owwww! That hurts, Dad.”

“Does it, sweetheart?”

Why that fucker was grinning was beyond you.

“Y—You don’t...” you started to say, then stopped. Swallowed, blinking harder. “…don’t trust me enough to spend a week at the beach with m-my friends?”

Your face was flushed, and your body was almost incandescent with heat. While your pussy pulsed and drooled between your legs, there was no doubt some indignation had started to creep into your words. Really, what was he so worried about, anyway?

“Ain’t you I don’t trust,” Joel returned instantly.

‘Is not’ you could’ve corrected him.

But you didn’t. Joel went on:

“‘Course it ain’t you I’ve gotta worry about in the slightest, no…It’s those goddamn boys with their pryin’ eyes and sniffin’ noses, goin’ after what’s mine.”

And at the same time, before you could even process what was happening, another blow landed on your throbbing clit. A peal of pleasure and pain blossomed through your limbs, and your hips bucked by instinct. This time, fortunately, Joel’s move was succeeded by a thumb pressing down, dulling the sting of what he’d done with a string of tender, apologetic lemniscates.

While the motions on your clit sent wave after wave of mollifying pleasure spiraling through your system, you could feel the burn with it, too. You could see the firm and paternal look in Joel’s eyes and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath a fine dusting of salt-and-pepper stubble before he spoke to you again.

Calmly, then: “Mind if your old man takes a look?”

You knew what that meant; you didn’t need to ask.

And Joel didn’t need an answer beyond the one you were supplying with your eyes and the single dip of your chin. It might as well have been tattooed over your forehead—‘Please, pleeease touch me, Dad’—and it wouldn’t have reached him any more clearly. Both of you were more than familiar with this kink.

Inspection, that is.

Was it even properly labeled a fetish if it came to be imbibed by you both more easily than the air you breathed? A mix of dominance and submission, give and take and touch and baiting each other endlessly.

“She been good f’me?” Joel said then, spreading your slick down your seam with just the pad of his thumb.

He was seated. You were perched on the edge of the table with your legs spread open to him, one ankle hooked over his shoulder and the other dangling up in the air. It all felt so precarious, what with you in only your barely-there, yanked-aside bikini and your man—this father figure of yours, who most folks would probably assume was just that at a glance—had a front row seat to your most intimate parts in the quiet and calm of this kitchen. Should a neighbor decide to stroll past the big bay window to your right, your secret and Joel’s would be exposed in a blink, no doubt about it.

“I said, has this pussy been good f’me?” Joel repeated.

“She has.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise, Dad. Didn’t…do…a thing.”

Almost too swiftly, Joel spit. One thick, glistening glob of saliva dropped from his lips to hit its target—your cunt—and mixed without a hitch as those circles of his continued. The sounds were delectable, and the sensation was amplified beyond what you could even begin to describe, Joel’s gaze locking with yours.

That lined face was handsome. Warm. Watchful.

“You wear this bikini out on the beach?”

“I— P-Please—”

“By the pool?”

You tried to reply to him again, but the sound caught in your throat; Joel planted his free hand on your thigh to hold you wider, and then he lowered his head. What you expected then would be his tongue appearing in the next second to lick a long, wet stripe up your slit ended up being just the tip of one of his fingers instead

Gently, Joel prodded at your entrance.

And though he didn’t breach you so much as a millimeter, simply the presence of his touch—the anticipation of being teased and pressed and stretched—was enough to have you whimpering.

You dug your heel into Joel’s shoulder. Your hips twitched restlessly, desperate for more contact.

“No wonder that boy’s been blowin’ up your phone,” Joel said, and at the same time, began tracing the rim of your cunt with his long and callused middle finger. “Lookin’ the way you do, pussy as sweet as she is…”

“He— He didn’t…I didn’t show him anything.” You barely managed to choke it out. Every nerve-ending in your body was alight, and it was taking all you had not to cum from the way his touch was grazing against you

Then that middle finger pushed its way inside.

“Harry never touched this, huh?” Joel cooed.

With the intrusion, it was as if every muscle in your body contracted at once; your walls clamped hard around Joel’s finger, and you couldn’t even hope to control it. Your cunt choked him, then made it almost impossible for the man to drag his finger back out.

Gently, though, Joel managed. He slid his big—now glistening—digit out of your pussy, and he smirked.

“You let those boys down in PCB touch you anyplace close to here, darlin’? They get to see, or…cop a feel?”

“No!”

Just as the protest clawed out of your throat, and you sat up stiff as a board to assure him, of course I didn’t do that, Dad, Joel’s mouth descended again. He nudged you backward, and you had no choice but to make space for shoulders bulldozing their way in.

It happened with one flick of his tongue.

One measly little lick, Joel groaning:

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, honey?”

And then you were finished.

‘Embarrassing’ was the first word to come to mind while it happened. Embarrassing that your thighs trembled against the table, gut clenching as if you’d just been punched. Embarrassing that you let out a cry of ‘Daaaaaad!’ loud enough to wake half the neighborhood and humiliating that Joel’s lips hadn’t even been attached to your clit for two seconds before you came unraveling underneath his touch. Just…what the fuck? And why the hell now? And how?!

And what would a fictional sex scene be without dialogue to send the incel fuckwit losers on an anonymous confessions blog into a frenzy?

“Dad’s so proud of ya, kiddo. Cum f’me.”

“But— But— it’s wrong. We shouldn’t.”

“I can feel you squeezin’. Keep goin’.”

In just a dozen or so words, Joel told you even more. He wasn’t simply giving you permission to let go but to feel what you wanted, think whatever you pleased to get to your peak, and lean into this dynamic—completely fabricated and without any basis in reality. No need to feel guilt or shame over a silly little forty-five minutes of roleplay with a person you loved. You were safe to navigate whatever fantasy you wanted with him, and because of that, it all flowed naturally.

The façade slipped a second as you reached for Joel and he held you right back, gripping your hand and grinning like the most pleased-as-punch old fucker.

“Oh, Joel. Joel, Joel, shit,” you whispered in a rush.

“I know, baby.” Joel said, almost seeming to commiserate. “I know, I know. Jus’ let it happen.”

And you did.

Joel thumbed at your clit with his other hand, and another miniature wave of ecstasy rolled over you—whether it was a new orgasm or not mattered very little to you. You just moaned and rolled your hips, and you smiled back at Joel in that sleepy and entirely contented way you did. You felt boneless.

“Maybe…pick back up where we left off tomorrow?” your old man started to say after you finally came down, rubbing your thigh. “Know it’s been a long day with your flight an’ all. Don’t want my girl feelin’—”

“I do.”

“—pressured.” he finished.

“Perfectly fine to keep going, Dad,” you corrected.

If you could’ve bottled that moment to keep safe inside your memory forever, you would have. The way you watched the corners of Joel’s lips twitch up again, buried beneath a swath of silvery dark hairs you’d come to love dearly, was bliss. The great bulk of his chest, the gentle curve of his tummy and the indent of his navel, his biceps—all visible through the tight gray fabric of his t-shirt. His smile, so unassuming and sweet, didn’t seem to belie a man capable of calling you his perfect, precious daughter and in the same breath slide his cock inside you to the hilt. But he did.

And he was, currently, taking himself out. You helped.

Joel’s cock was long and hard and heavy, flushed red with an uncharacteristically large pearl of precum beaded at his tip. He might’ve run his hand down it once or twice then before you felt yourself salivating.

Angling your hips, and admiring the way his length looked so imposing and big over your body, you said:

“Are you sure it’ll fit, Dad?”

You played up the bit.

Your fingers spread your puffy, swollen lips to give Joel the clearest view of your cunt, dripping wet for him, and you could feel air cooling you. Your slit was shiny and slick. While you peered up at him sweetly, you also made sure the man could see your still-pulsing hole underneath where he was currently fisting his cock.

Joel lowered his hold and dragged the head of his dick through your folds, all the way down until the crown met your entrance. His hips flexed, but the rim of your cunt didn’t budge. Joel grunted, seeing and feeling it.

As if partway in a trance, and a little pussydrunk now already, he went on gently, “We’ll make it fit, honey.”

He put on the ‘Dad voice’ so effortlessly—it seemed it became second nature right before he worked his way inside you. Like the rest of the world was white noise and all that mattered was that thick, hard thing fitting in your tight, wet, sticky warmth, he guided you as tenderly as ever. He planted a hand beside your head on the table, not too far away from all the plates and glasses and silverware from your since-abandoned meal, and he started to push ahead with deliberation.

At first, it was just the tip pressing forward. Testing you, almost, as if to make sure your pussy could stretch to accommodate his girth. Joel knew better than this, of course, and you whined in answer.

“M— More’n that. Can take more, Dad,” you moaned.

“I know you can, kid,” Joel answered, still just stretching your rim with the tip of his cock. Holding onto his base. He’d barely breached more than an inch, and he already had your legs shaking, clutch sucking at him with all the force it could manage. He grunted.

“I’m…checkin’.” He stopped to exhale again. Dragged his cock forward and backward just to scrub the first bit of your inner walls. “Makin’ sure this pussy ain’t been touched since the last time I been inside her.” And once more, knitting his brows and thrusting as if he were really feeling around for something, accent growing coarser and more distinctly Texan as he did so, “That’s a good girl, you jus’ sit tight right there.”

And tight you were. Tight you gripped him, cunt gaping into a perfect ‘o’ around his length, and high-pitched were your moans as he fed you just those couple inches, again and again and again. Joel slowed.

Your pussy involuntarily clenched, and he shuddered on a groan. His hand curled into a fist on the tabletop.

“Fuck me,” he panted out. “Kept it nice an’ tight for dear old dad, knowin’ just what it’d do to him, yeah?”

You might’ve giggled if you weren’t so turned on. If your hands hadn’t drifted to your bikini top and freed your breasts to start toying with your nipples outside of the soft, nylon fabric, you might’ve taunted him back. But the truth was, your body was as taut as ever, your pussy was leaking liquid heat, and you were dangerously close to your second, or third, climax of the night with just a fraction of Joel sawing in and out.

He sank deeper, and both of you tensed, moaning.

“‘S’why she’s so sensitive now, huh?” Joel murmured, thrusts slow to pick up. The sounds of him hitting the table with each jerky motion echoed through the kitchen. “Why you came so fuckin’ fast on dad’s cock, ‘cause this pussy ain’t been touched all week? That it?”

Joel’s grin was wolfish and sly, but there was a tenderness to it all the same. He knew damn well he didn’t really need to feel inside to know you’d behaved.

“Haven’t been touched. Not even…on my own.” You pinched your nipples and let out a low, shaky breath.

“Not once?” Joel questioned.

“N— No, sir.”

Out of habit, you glanced down your body, and your cunt throbbed. Half of Joel’s cock had disappeared and was reappearing, soaked all the way to his balls.

“Guess we’re in the same boat then, you an’ me.”

And, as if the man could read your mind right then, Joel sank all the way in on his next thrust. He filled you up until those round, swollen globes of his were kissing your ass and the tip of his cock was hitting your cervix, and then he let out a sound of pleasure. Contented and craving still, his voice was hoarse and throaty and low. He leaned down until his body blanketed yours completely over the table, then fucked in deeper.

Joel moved his hands to grip either side of the wooden surface to the left and the right of your head, and in time, the wet plap-plap-plaps got even faster. Louder.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Darlin’ girl.”

“Dad couldn’t cum all week without this perfect little pussy snug ‘round ‘im. Y’know what that means, hm?”

Joel’s words were punctured by a breath, and without a syllable more from him, you could already sense it.

Could tell from the way that thick and throbbing head was gliding—diving—into your core repeatedly while his slick-drenched sac battered your ass with an agonizing weight, ‘Dad’ was close to having an orgasm

More than that, though, this was going to be a lot.

After not fucking for an entire week, not only did Joel tend to blow his load much sooner than usual, but the stuff that came out of him was insane in its sheer volume. He could already practically paint your face or fill your tummy on any given day, but when he’d been deprived of release long enough, his cum was just…

“—so. fucking. much.” Joel’s voice cut in over the crescendo of sound buzzing through your skull. He repeated what he’d said: “I love you so fucking much.”

He rutted into your needy, leaking cunt like he meant it

You kissed him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as your legs did the same around his hips.

In between panting breaths, you managed, ‘I’ and ‘love’ and ‘you’ against Joel’s soft, stubbled mouth.

‘Dad’ as his cock carved a path toward your center. ‘Dad’ to make the lips kissing you back form the faintest of smiles as he fucked you. ‘Dad’ because it drove you both batshit crazy with how wrong and taboo and wild the word sounded between you two in moments like these. ‘Dad’ because that wasn’t what your relationship was at all, and you and Joel could distinguish fantasy from reality like full-grown adults.

“Ain’t gonna last,” Joel murmured shortly. His hips stuttered, your own mostly-naked body writhing against the motion, and he watched your tits bounce.

He soaked up the sight of you grinding and moaning and soaking his length with that bright blue string bikini shoved to the side—the one that had probably driven every guy half out of his mind in PCB last week—and you could tell that he was relishing the fact that this was all his. You were all his, and no fuckwit fratboy from Ole Miss was changing that. His gaze brightened.

Then those eyes traveled up. Past your pussy being split in two over his pistoning cock, your bouncing tits, over your face and up to something out on the table.

He hesitated only a second before peering back down:

“You gonna cum again for me?”

With his thumb moving between your bodies and pressing to your clit to draw little circles again, you didn’t even need to answer in words. You just did it.

You finished on Joel’s cock, and his thrusts continued to land relentlessly, fucking you all through your high. There were whimpers and cries and fingers clawing at his sides, and it all felt so indescribably good you thought you might burst. At the same time, Joel sucked a breath through his teeth and groaned.

His cock jerked inside you, a sign of impending release.

Just as Joel’s hips drove furiously against you, and your wetness all but flooded and stuck to your writhing bodies with each and every thrust, you tried to speak.

You’d just started to form the words on your tongue:

‘Cum inside me, Dad. Cum inside me, please.’

And then Joel was pulling out.

Reaching for something over your head while he fisted his cock and let out a hoarse, almost strangled sound.

“C’mere, sweetheart. Knees—on your knees.”

As soon as he said it, you didn’t hesitate.

You didn’t even try wondering at what he might be saying—you just slid off the table he’d just been fucking you on and then dropped to the floor.

Your face was right beside the edge of the tabletop, eye-level with the surface, and your head was spinning.

Stars burst along the periphery of your vision, and you were still busy trying to catch your breath from your most recent climax when suddenly, you heard the sound of porcelain on wood. Sliding over, as it were.

Joel had taken a plate—your unfinished meal, by the looks of it—and he yanked it to the corner of the table. Still fisting his cock in his other hand, he let out a grunt

“Right here, kiddo. That’s it,” he commanded.

Then, once he’d positioned the china right where it appeared he’d wanted it, he grabbed you by the chin. He tugged your face forward, closer to the table where he’d just moved your plate, and he made you look up.

He bared his teeth in almost a sort of wry, knowing smile, and then he peered down at you under him.

Starting to stroke his cock again, he went:

“You want Dad’s cum, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

Again, you didn’t think.

You just stared up at him, mindless and fuckdrunk as you’d ever been, and you opened your mouth. Stuck your tongue out like a good, sweet, obedient girl and waited for Joel’s load to come spattering on your face.

And it did, in fewer than three or four seconds.

You kneeled there, chin tilted up, and you couldn’t help but grin, too, as you felt rope after rope of Joel’s hot, heavy seed spilling all over your skin. It felt like a goddamn prize showering you and sinking into your open mouth, eyes, and everyplace else. Evidence of you being the best, most precious girl to your old man after he’d fucked you so well. And, just as you’d expected, there was so much stuff coming out.

Joel might’ve painted a third of your upturned face and filled a decent part of your mouth when he groaned again, reaching to the left of him jerkily.

And then, to your quiet, wide-eyed disbelief, he kept on going—pumped his cock again and again, and again, more cum spurted out from his pulsing tip.

This time, though, he’d pivoted toward the table.

Joel jerked himself over your dinner plate, cursing, and let four or five ropes more spatter over your mostly uneaten meal. Each one landed with startling precision

Dimly, you remembered what your dinner had been.

Chicken fried steak—a Southern staple and one of Joel’s favorites to make. Almost all of it was there.

Smothered in gravy.

Joel was finished.

He turned to you, just as your cum-drenched face was peering into the thick, wet, sticky-white mess the man had just made over the plate. Your mouth was slightly agape, and you couldn’t deny a little spit had begun to pool inside it, right along with the rest of Joel’s load.

Joel moved a warm and comforting hand to the crown of your head. He stroked it gently, in that excruciatingly paternal way he’d perfected of late.

Then, meeting your gaze, he finally spoke again:

“Clean plate club, remember, kiddo?”

[cumsocket]

Public Fuck Stations

It’s easy to keep women in line if you remember our basic operating instructions. Stimulation of the cunt will induce obedience, sexual excitement, and craving for humiliation.

To maximize the potential of the female mating response, it would make sense to implement public fuck stations. Basically these would be phallic objects for women to casually impale themselves on during the day.

Imagine going to a restaurant and the server asks how many are in your party. The next question is how many cunts are with you. When you get a table, the place settings for the bitches are chairs with fat dildos securely fastened on them. Your wife, daughters, and any free use sluts you picked up can lift their skirts and sink down to impale themselves for the meal.

Buses, subways, and commuter trains all have lines of plastic cocks for women to bend over and secure themselves on. Men can experience the entertainment of watching bitches struggle to balance on a rocking train solely by clenching their cunts on the stabilizing pricks.

Movie theaters and sports stadiums have bitch seats for any females accompanying a man. Even grocery carts are modified to have an extended arm with a fake cock so women can shop while filled, waddling down the aisles with their staked cunts on display.

It will become second nature for females to plan their day around cock. To walk into a board room filled with men and complacently take the bitch seat in the corner to take notes. To use the fuck stations next to vending machines hoping to catch a man’s eye while he’s on his lunch break.

Since no dildo will ever replicate the feeling of being stretched on a man’s cock and feeling his cum drain into the bitch hole, women will be in a constant state of desperation and humiliation. Even a stray glance from a man will leave a bitch panting and fucking her cunt on the nearest fuck station or bitch seat. When she’s finally lifted off a dildo and onto a man’s cock, she’ll whimper in gratitude as her body latches on to the cunt plug about to fill her with semen.

[cumsocket]

Public Fuck Stations cont.

Living as a bitch in this society requires constant attention for the cumsleeve. The natural female addiction to being impaled is encouraged rather than suppressed, to the point where women have difficulty thinking about anything else.

Every bitch wears skirts that barely cover their crotch, which is of course instantly exposed by any movement at all. Pussies are expected to be bare and well-maintained so men can appreciate watching them get stuffed.

Every morning, I walk to the bus stop. Today I recognize the man already waiting there; he was my younger brother’s best friend growing up. I was bossy to both of them, something they’ve each made me regret many times.

He eyes me as I approach. “Hi, bitch.” Casual, barely interested.

I nod to him as I approach the stop’s fuck stations. I hate to do this in front of him, but my cunt is already aching from being empty. I turn around, bend over slightly, and sink my pussy down on one of the dildos protruding from the bus stop wall.

He chuckles. “I love watching you get bitched,” he smirks. My cheeks burn as my eyes drift to his pants, wondering if he’ll decide to replace the plastic in my hole with his cock. I shudder in anticipation even as my face flushes in shame.

He sees where I’m looking. “Don’t get excited, cunt. I already had a bitch this morning.” But he reaches out to squeeze one of my tits anyways. I groan loudly, as I’ve been taught, making him chuckle again. My cunt squeezes harder on its fuckpole.

He casually degrades me until the bus finally comes. The one at this hour is very full. There’s only one fuck station left, and I groan as I realize it’s covered in semen. But I have no choice. I sink down on it, feeling the still warm cum coat the walls of my pussy. It’s not unheard of for a bitch to get pregnant this way—not even getting the benefit of a fuck.

The idea of getting seeded by a stranger’s leftover cum activates my bitch hole even more. Some females are simply slumped on their stations, passively impaled with an occasional bounce as the bus hits a dip. My cumsleeve is too needy for that today, though.

I start pumping myself back on the fuck station eagerly. I squeal when the bus hits a big bump and the dildo thrusts hard inside me, almost knocking me down. A few men turn to watch my display. I meet their eyes as I thrust back on my station, my feet barely touching the ground so the bulk of my weight is suspended by my pussy.

It’s times like this that I feel the reality of being a woman. The way my flesh crawls with shame at displaying myself like a prize breeding pig. How good the shame makes my bitch pussy feel. The overwhelming drive to earn a real cock in my jizz drain.

I keep eye contact with the men watching for the entire ride. Any of them could decide to stop the show to fuck me, but it seems today they’ve decided my humiliation is better. I nearly sob as my stop approaches, since I know it’s forbidden for a bitch to cum unless impaled on a flesh cock. It’s for the greater good, so women never forget that a real fuck is a privilege and not a right.

When the bus rolls to a stop, I groan and lift my pussy from its station. It’s raw and gaped, twitching with the need to cum. One of the men who watched me casually gropes it as I pass. I barely suppress the urge to beg him to fuck me, knowing that would make me late. I can only hope to have better luck over lunch.

[littledes1re]

The laundry load 

⤷ Masterlist ── .✦ ⤷ Read on Ao3 ── .✦ ⤷ Taglist ── .✦

Pairing: pervy!old!joel miller x female!reader

Summary: Joel catches himself always staring as you walk over in that flimsy sundress, smile sweet as pie tugging at his restraint. Those pink panties you 'forget' on his bathroom floor? They shouldn’t make his pulse race, or have thoughts he shouldn’t entertain. It’s only laundry, but each visit leaves him harder, hungrier, and his restraint cracking further.

Warnings: +18, smut, pervert!joel, age gap (20s and 60s), neighbour!joel, unprotected sex, pinv, dub-con (?), pantie sniffling and licking, fingering, clit rubbing, cream-pie, male!masturbation, praise kink, degradation, teasing, no outbreak

A/N: hey babes 🩷 took a little break but I’m easing back in. this one’s on the shorter side, and i really missed writing this pervy old, old man…sooo I hope you enjoy it pookies!! <33

You know, the first time it happened, Joel didn’t think much of it.

It can happen to anyone, no? Leaving dirty underwear on the bathroom floor of your old neighbor?

Joel decided to let it slide when it happened, just because you’re the bubbly girl next door, 20-something with your little ‘hello’s’ in sundresses that hug your curves just right. And he already hated himself for catching himself staring at your ass when you bend over to garden, or your tits bouncing as you jog by, ‘She’s half my age, for fuck’s sake’—but his cock twitches anyway because, yeah, it’s been forever since he’s buried himself balls-deep in a tight, wet pussy and filled it up to the brim.

He was only a man, after all.

So when you knocked on his door, the first time, with a smile sweet as pie, asking if you can use his washing machine because your ancient piece a’ shit gave up on you, and you have week-old clothes, he couldn’t say no, his eyes fixated on the soft, baby pink bras and thongs in your basket.

And after you did your load, he came back to find one of your pink cotton panties on the bathroom floor (maybe it slipped from the basket, he thinks).

Joel picked it up, saw the faint damp spot in the crotch from your day, and that night, alone in his dim bedroom, he wrapped it around his thick cock and stroked real hard, imagining your sweet face as he grunted and shot ropes of cum into the fabric, staining it further.

Guilt hit after, of course. But the high lingered.

Then, it happened again. You, wanting to use his machine, with a: “It takes forever to be repaired, I’m sorry.” And then leaving yet another lacy, pink underwear on his floor.

That time, Joel was bolder—he sniffed it first, tongue darting out to taste the salt, then jerked off in the laundry room by himself, leaning against the dryer, fantasizing about bending you over it and rutting into you from behind until he flooded your cunt with his load.

And now, when he hears the door knocking, he anticipates that you want to drop off yet another one of your panties on his bathroom floor because the repair guy is taking so long, but—a third time? That would be a bit too much, wouldn’t it?

“Again? That’s the third time now, darlin’. Your machine still out?”

There you are; standing once again with a basket full of pink underwear, an apologising smile on your face and a soft sundress clinging to your skin in the humid afternoon air. 

You nod quickly, shifting the basket in your arms, your voice coming out small. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Miller. The repair guy’s dragging his feet. It won’t take long, promise.” 

He sighs heavy, trying not to show his excitement, and steps aside to let you in.

“Fine. But you just like wastin’ my water, huh?Comin’ over here every other day.” 

You set the basket down by the washer in his cramped bathroom, glancing up at him with a soft laugh that doesn’t quite hide your nerves. Your cheeks tint pink as you start loading the clothes. 

“No, s’not like that, Mr. Miller. I appreciate it, really.” You say. 

As you bend over, one hand ‘accidentally’ brushes your pocket—a pair of your sheer, white silk panties tumbles out, landing softly besides the machine. You straighten up quick, pretending not to notice, but you bite your lip hard, pulse thumping.

Joel spots it right away, blood rushing through his cock, jaw clenching tight. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the door with that stern look. “And those panties…”

You swallow hard, your face heating up like fire, eyes flicking to the floor. “W-what?”

Shit, you were caught.

You knew this was gonna happen the third time. I mean, who the hell even washes laundry three times a week? 

“You like leavin’ me little souvenirs?” His words come out firm, almost instructional, like he’s correcting a bad habit, but there’s a husky rumble underneath that he can’t quite mask. 

He’s trying to play the responsible neighbor, the gruff teacher, but you see the way his jeans tighten, the tension in his stance.

You fumble with the last shirt in the basket. “I... they’re just laundry. Must’ve fallen again.”

Again, again and again? 

He chuckles. 

Joel steps closer, slow and deliberate, bending down to pick up the panties with just two fingers. He holds them out like they’re proof in some lesson plan, dangling them in front of you. 

“First time, fine—must’ve fallen. Second? Alright. The third? Right in front of me? What the hell’s that about?” His voice is gruff, eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demands answers. 

Inside, you know he’s been thinking about it—about you—just like you’ve hoped.

Your breath catches, and you squirm a little, the sundress suddenly too tight against your hardening nipples. “Can I have them back? Please?”

“They’re full of cum now, girl. Both pairs. What’d you expect me to do, just toss ‘em? After you left ‘em there, all damp and smellin’ like you?”

And you would be surprised, ashamed even embarrassed if it wasn’t exactly what you were planning on. The old, lonely man from next door who always stares at your tits when you walk by, who always has an eye on your curves when you bend over. 

Who would’ve thought that he would use the panties you left for them?

You press your thighs together as a rush of wetness soaks your bare pussy—no panties underneath this time, just for the risk of it.

“You…you used them? Mr. Miller, that’s—“

—That’s disgusting and perverted, and you sure as hell didn’t want that to happen? Oh yeah, sure. 

Joel’s restraint cracks just a fraction; he stuffs the panties into his pocket and shuts the door behind you both, then he backs you up against the sink, not crowding you fully, but close enough that you feel the heat rolling off his body, smell the faint musk of him.

“Need to teach you some damn manners, apparently.”

“Teach me?” you whisper, your voice half-challenge, half-plea, hands twisting in the fabric of your dress as flutters build low in your belly.

“Yeah. Lesson one: Teasin’ like that gets a man thinkin’ things he shouldn’t.” His rough palm cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip—gentle in that gruff way, like he’s demonstrating instead of just saying. “You been droppin’ these on purpose? Hopin’ I’d notice? Hm, baby?”

“No... I mean, maybe a little. But I didn’t think—“ You avert your eyes, flustered, but you lean into his touch anyway, craving more.

He tilts your chin up with firm fingers, his eyes stern and unyielding. 

“Look at me when you answer. Been jerkin’ off to your scent every night, fist pumpin’ hard while I pictured slidin’ my cock into that tight little pussy of yours. That’s what you wanted huh? Me leakin’ all over your pretty panties, fillin’ ‘em up with my load.” 

His other hand trails down your side, calluses scraping lightly, then hooks the hem of your dress and inches it up slow, exposing your thighs.

You whimper, nodding as your face burns hotter. “I’m sorry. I just...wanted to you notice me. Makes me feel...”

“Wanted? Fuck, yeah, you are.” He finishes it for you, voice dropping to a gravelly growl, his hand slipping higher to discover you’re bare beneath. 

His fingers trace your slick folds, parting them gently at first.

“Christ, no panties today? Lesson two: Own what you provoke. You’re soakin’ wet already, drippin’ down your thighs for an old man like me.”

He circles your clit with his middle finger, pressing just right—slow, firm circles that make your knees buckle. You love it, the way his filthy words twist in your gut, making you clench around nothing.

“Mr. Miller—“ you moan out, hips bucking forward instinctively, chasing the pleasure. Your hands grip the sink edge behind you, flustered breaths coming fast.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say it—admit you left ‘em for me, wanted me strokin’ my cock to the thought of buryin’ it in you.” 

He dips one thick finger inside your pussy, curling it deep to stroke your inner walls, the stretch making your eyes roll back. His free arm braces above you on the mirror, caging you in as he pumps slow, agonising.

You gasp, walls fluttering around him. 

“I did...wanted you to touch yourself to me. Please, show me more.” 

The words tumble out, embarrassed but honest, and you push back onto his hand, loving how full he makes you already.

“Good girl. Y’learnin’ fast.” He adds a second finger, stretching you wider, thrusting them in and out with wet, obscene sounds that echo off the tiles. His thumb starts  working your clit, building that coil tighter.

“Feel that? How your greedy little cunt sucks me in? Been dreamin’ of this—your tight hole grippin’ me like it never wants to let go.”

You nod frantically, moans spilling free as pleasure sparks through you. “Yes—feels so good, don’t stop.”

Your body loves every filthy syllable, the way he talks like he’s claiming you, making your arousal drip down his knuckles.

He withdraws his fingers suddenly, leaving you aching and empty, and you whine at the loss. But then the rasp of his zipper fills the air and his cock springs free—thick, veined, the head flushed pink and leaking pre cum. He wraps his hand around the base, stroking once, twice, his eyes devouring you. 

“Lesson three: How it feels to take what’s been buildin’ up. Gonna fuck this sweet pussy raw, fill it with my cum just like I did your panties.”

He rubs the fat head along your slit, coating himself in your juices, teasing your entrance. 

“Sweet pussy. Sweet fuckin’ pussy. Been so long since I had one this tight and wet.” He growls.

You love it, the praise mixed with his dirty edge, making you throb for him.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushes in—inch by thick inch, the stretch burning so good as your walls part for him.

“Breathe through it, darlin’, let me in deep.” His hands grip your hips hard, guiding you down onto him until he’s buried to the hilt, balls pressed against your ass. “Thaaat’s it, honey.” 

You brace on the sink, pushing back to meet him, the fullness overwhelming you. 

“Mr. Miller—oh god, you’re so big. Deeper, please.” Your voice is breathy, flustered, but you rock your hips, loving how he splits your pussy right open.

He starts thrusting—slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, the slap of his hips against your ass punctuating each drive. One hand slides up to cup your breast through the dress, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you arch. 

“That’s right, take every inch. Been holdin’ back too long from a little tease like you—now you’re milkin’ my cock, beggin’ for it without sayin’ a word.” 

His pace picks up, pounding deeper, the angle hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

You cry out, legs trembling as you wrap one around his waist, pulling him closer. 

“Yes—fuck me harder, Mr. Miller.”  The words feel bold, but his filthiness eggs you on, your pussy clenching rhythmically around him.

“Greedy girl.” 

He grunts with each thrust, sweat beading on his brow, his free hand dropping to rub your clit in tight circles. The dual sensation has you spiraling, the bathroom filling with the wet sounds of him fucking you senseless, your walls clamping down real greedily.

“I’m close, don’t stop.” You whimper out.

You shatter first, orgasm crashing over you like a wave—your pussy spasms wildly around his cock, gushing wetness as you scream his name.

He follows right after, burying himself balls-deep with a low goran, his cock throbbing as he unloads. Thick ropes of hot cum pulse into you, flooding your walls, so much so that it starts leaking out around him with every grind. 

“Take it all, darlin’—fillin’ this sweet pussy up, markin’ you with my seed. Fuck, you’re perfect—taking every drop.”

He holds you pinned there through the aftershocks, his mouth crashing down on yours in a deep, possessive kiss, tongue claiming as his cock pumps the rest of his spurts.

Finally, he pulls out slow, watching with dark eyes as his cum drips from your swollen pussy, trailing down your thighs. 

“Trouble,” he mutters gruffly against your lips, but his hand strokes your back soft, almost tender. “But you’re gettin’ the idea now.”

Also look who I got yall🥰🥰😜hehe

Taglist: @vickie5446 @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @afyreinjuly @shivispunk @kyloispunk @marisemonteiroo @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @blueberryfruittart @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner @millersweetheart @wildthyng @armandispunk @chick66i @bratty-spicee @am1a-niigo @hopelessromantic727 @styleslfreak @psclcain @susieqorion24 @rxsemarinusx @jandtmillersgirl @fertilise-me @mitskilover88 @lostboys1987girl @begginforthread @pinkangelglitterdusttt @facethepascal @ddiana111 @twilightblogss @cheeseizts @pedrosgirl03 @swimmingnightcolor @gabfromgreedycity @bartzabel4 @blueflowerstranger @easybbgrl @madnessofadaydreamer @sadie6sinks6slut @hopelessromantic727 @miramindlesslywriting

[competitivehole]

I fucking love cock.

Seriously….a hard, throbbing, dripping cock is so fucking sexy.

A fat boner begging to be sucked…please let me slurp on it til my brain goes blank & I am totally relaxed.

Nothing more soothing than focusing on worshipping a cock. Pleasuring a man is so calming & fulfilling. I get to suck…I get to drool, choke & gag on dick….I get to lay between his legs & nurse on his balls…

Just…yum 🤤🤤

[lord-of-dice-and-kinks]

Look at you. Younger little sub. Oh so needy for his touch. Oh so needy for that age gap. For that immoral and filthy feeling. For the imbalance of if all. Oh sweet little angel. Younger needy little slut. Looking up at that older man, with those pretty sparkling eyes of you. Craving his seed. Craving his roughness. Craving his touch.

Him being older than you only makes you wetter. You like that difference in age you have don’t you? That difference in experience. Difference in control. In power. That difference in outlook. Young and old. Innocent and corrupting. You want to be his young little plaything. His eye-candy. His slut. His whore. His fucktoy. To have him teach you. Guide you. Corrupt you. Ruin you. Protect you.

Look at you. A young little toy wanting to get corrupted. Wanting an older Dom to use you as their personal plaything. Train you to become their personal pocket pussy and cocksleeve. Corrupted into doing alll those nastyyyy things he wants. You feel like it’s wrong but your pussy drips so much for it. Oh how needy of you. Craving their touch. Their humiliation. Them using you. So so desperate of you.

And that’s why you want it. Admit it. You crave it don’t you? For me to pin you down and strip you. For me to hold your younger body in my hands and position you however I want. To touch your needy young pussy until it’s dripping and warm. Strongly smelling of horny cunt. Ready for my cock. As I rub my veiny shaft against your slick and fertile little hole.

Only for me to push in my tip. Then stretch you out further by pushing in my shaft. Sliding in deeper and deeper until I’m slamming against your cervix. Battering and ruining your young pussy. Until I’m mounting you full force and ramming into you like an older beast trying to mate with its younger prey. So think about it. About my fat cock splitting you open. About me holding you down by force. About me taking you. Claiming you. And mating with your young body. Overwhelming you with my size and weight as you are forced to take it. As my arms wrap around your throat. As your stomach bulges with my cock. As my weight crushes you. Your young body covered in my smell. Marked in bruises. Soon to be claimed by my older Dom seed.

But first I’m pounding you. First I’m choking you. First I’m biting you. Licking your clit. Sucking on your nipples. Groping you. Spreading your ass. Slapping your face. Spitting on your tongue. Pounding you deep. Until you feel wave after wave of hot cum pump inside of you. Until you feel my cock throb and twitch in your cunt. Until you feel me unload my seed in your pussy. Covering your young insides with my warm load. Until it starts to leak out of you and puddle beneath you as I grab hold onto your ass from below and make sure to uplift you into my thrusts. Mating with your fertile young pussy. Impregnating you, even though the difference in age. After all, I want you full of cum. Stuffed with my creampie. You are made for breeding. Made for cum. Made for me.

So that’s why I won’t pull out. That’s while I keep ramming my older cock inside your young pussy. Stuffing you with a thick load as I slowly keep thrusting the rest of my cum into you. Pumping your insides white. Claiming them. Filling you up with my seed. Before pulling out, lifting your legs up on the air and using a plug or toy to keep your tight cummy little hole plugged and filled with my seed. Breeding you in the process. Turning you into my young cumdump.

[the-sensitive-sadist]

Facefucking where my big, rough, possessive hands are wrapped around your head and neck, and I'm just dragging your mouth up and down on my cock, completely overpowering you and forcing your mouth to go exactly where I want it, grinding and thrusting deep your throat while I shove your head down so hard you gag and struggle remain conscious, your pretty little face covered in your own spit, your brain so fuzzy you can barely tell how long I've been using your mouth. That pretty, perfect mouth. Gagging and leaking spit all over yourself. Your throat reduced to nothing more than my drooling needy pocket pussy.

[b1ting]

just the tip -> being mounted and bred balls deep pipeline

[ccarisi]

sleepyhead

summary: Your stepdad finds you fast asleep after a stressful day of work. warnings: age gap, stepcest, smut, somno, dubcon/noncon, virginity loss, unprotected piv, creampie, brief oral, daddy kink duh, kid/kiddo, sonny has zero morals 2.3k words

a/n: ever since i got this ask i couldn't stop Thinking. rushed this in one day so i hope its decent enough happy fathers day sonny <33 only proofread this once so you get what you get dt: @johnnydubcek do you forgive me for going on vacation

—

Sonny wasn’t sure if it was possible to have a day worse than this. If dealing with Buchanan as opposing counsel wasn’t bad enough, Liv was on his case from start to finish. If she brought him a weak he can’t win that wasn’t his fault. It was one thing after another and the only thing on his mind was going home, cracking open a beer, and watching whatever game was on that night.

And you, of course.

If he’s being honest you were the main thing on his mind. Coming home to your smiling face was the only thing that got him through the day sometimes, knowing that at the end of the dark tunnel that was his workday you were always there waiting for him. He figures he would have gone insane a long time ago if it weren’t for you.

On my way home now. Have you ate? I can make us dinner.

Sonny shoots you a text as he makes his way out of the courthouse, heading in the direction of the apartment. Your mom was working late tonight and he wants to make the most of every second he has alone with you. He knows how much you love his cooking, you’ll pick eating at home with him over a fancy restaurant everytime.

You there? I can make your favorite.

You always reply as soon as you get his texts, but those three little typing dots never pop up. Staring down at his screen Sonny tries again.

Is your phone off? Be home soon. Love you.

It wasn’t like you to ignore his texts and Sonny’s spiralling is in full force before he has the chance to stop it. He always did jump to the worst conclusions, but in his line of work who could blame him? Realistically, you were either away from your phone or it was dead.

Sonny finds himself rushing home, he knows he won’t relax until he sees you. It was hard to think rationally when it came to you, call it fatherly love and then some.

Almost dropping his keys in the process Sonny quickly makes his way through the door, half haphazardly dropping his briefcase off to the side. He calls out your name to no answer and his heart gets caught in his throat. He thought he was being ridiculous thinking something had happened to you, was he actually right?

Sonny treads down the hallway towards your room, peeking his head through your half ajar door only to discover you fast asleep. You were always a heavy sleeper.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as his eyes fall over your sleeping form, curled up into yourself in one of his old worn shirts. Sometimes he swore that you had more of his shirts in your dresser than his own.

You were here, you were safe.

Sonny quietly makes his way into your room, shedding his jacket before neatly folding it and placing it off to the side. The bed dips as he sits on the edge and he freezes for a moment, hoping he didn’t wake you from such a peaceful and heavy sleep. You’ve been picking up more shifts at work lately, something about wanting to have your own money and not rely on him. Too bad he’ll always spoil you rotten.

Brushing some hair out of your face Sonny admires how peaceful you look fast asleep. Wrapped up in your blanket with flushed cheeks, your soft plump parted lips, and the way you’re clutching that same stuffed animal he bought you ten or so years ago.

He couldn’t name a more precious sight even if he tried.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh baby?” Sonny murmurs under his breath as he pets your hair. No matter how old you get you’ll always be his baby, he’ll make sure of that. “Think you’ve been workin’ too hard, poor thing.” He leans in and leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Your skin was warm and soft against his lips, causing heavy desire to flow through Sonny’s veins like a river. It’s been such a long day and well, you’ve been working hard too after all. Don’t you deserve some loving?

You’ve talked about this before, there’s been sessions between you that ended up a little too hot and heavy. It’s not that you didn’t want to do that with him, you did. But would you be able to face your mom everyday knowing the truth? There was that part of you that was scared to go all the way, too. You knew he was…well endowed. The thought made you nervous.

You met in the middle, you let Sonny go down on you and you promised that you’d go all the way when he finally leaves your mom. Whenever that is.

Maybe Sonny was appealing to his darker nature when he peels your blanket off to reveal the rest of your limp body. You’ll forgive him, he wasn’t worried about that.

As gently and slowly as he can he maneuvers you to lay on your back, sushing you when you mumble incoherently in your sleep. With a deep breath Sonny moves your underwear to the side and slides two fingers through your folds. He just needs to feel you, that’s all. Maybe watch you get off and he’ll feel better.

There you go. Sonny fights back a groan when he feels your growing wetness, body responding to his touches even in your deep slumber. His fingers move to your clit next, rubbing your sensitive bud in small firm circles. His eyes stay glued to your face, watching for every reaction he can pull out of you. You looked so sweet and innocent as you subconsciously let out a hum in pleasure.

He should stop here, but he won’t. He knows that much about himself. Slow and steady as not to wake you, Sonny slips your underwear down to your ankles and tosses them to the side. He waits for a reaction that never comes while you remain fast asleep.

He used to joke that you could sleep through anything. It was a real war to get you to wake up for school in the morning, all the kicking and screaming. He would hear your multiple alarms going off from down the hall and without fail he had to wake you himself every time.

Gently spreading your legs Sonny inhales sharply as he sees your pussy slick with need. He’s just giving you what you want, isn't he? The tip of his finger circles your leaking hole and it’s just so inviting. Without thinking twice Sonny slips a finger inside of you, letting out a strangled groan at the way your pussy grips his finger. His eyes move from the sight of his finger inside you up to your face, no indication that you’re aware of anything that’s happening.

Sonny slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, admiring the way that his finger glistens from your arousal. He slips the finger inside of his mouth and moans from the sweet taste you left behind. That was enough to throw the last bit of rational thinking he had left out the window completely.

Sonny carefully positions himself between your thighs, lips ghosting over your little aching pussy. Leaning down he presses his nose against you, inhaling deeply. “Oh christ, baby.”

Without a second thought Sonny licks a broad stripe through your folds, eyes falling shut from the taste. His hands find your hips as he softly kneads the warm soft flesh there. You’re so sweet, inside and out.

His lips find your clit as he sucks softly and you let out a whine as your toes curl. Sonny has his way with you, licking and sucking away as you remain in your peaceful slumber. You were his favorite taste, and he would spend hours between your thighs if you let him.

Sonny feels the strain on his back from his position, not being able to maneuver both of you comfortably. God, he was getting old. One of these days he’ll get you a new bed, this was the same twin sized frame he built you too long ago to count.

Sitting up with a grunt he rolls out his neck and stretches his back. He could leave you be, go finish himself off in his room and be done with this whole thing.

His hands move on their own as he lowers his zipper and fishes himself out. Before he knows it his hand is wrapped around his heavy cock as he gives himself a few pumps. He can’t help it when it comes to you. But how could he? His sweet little baby.

Just over the outside, he tells himself. That’s not technically going against your wishes, so no harm done. Sonny slides his cock through your wet cunt, coating himself in the slick he left behind. He watches the way his cock slides through your slippery folds and the way your slick sticks to his shaft. You were just so fucking tempting.

Maybe just the tip, that doesn’t count. It’s hard to resist when your tight little hole was close enough for him to slip into without a moment’s notice.

And that’s exactly what he does.

With a strained groan Sonny notches the blunt head of his cock inside of you and stills, stopping himself from pushing inside you any further. Just the tip. He pulls out only to find himself naturally pushing in more. You were so tight and wet around him and he was barely inside you, the sheer thought of what it’ll feel like to bury himself to a hilt inside you has him feral.

If this was wrong then why did your pussy stretch around him so naturally? Your body works to accommodate his length as he slowly sinks deeper and deeper inside of you. “Oh fuck, kiddo. That’s it, take Daddy’s cock.” Sonny sighs as his hips meet yours.

Sonny moves as slowly as he can manage, careful not to wake you if he can help it. It borders on painful to be this slow, there’s nothing more he wants than to pound into you mercilessly as you hold onto him for dear life.

Your pussy pulses and squeezes around him as he slowly pumps his cock in and out. “Doin’ s’good sweetie, jus’ lie there and take it.” Sonny’s body gently rocks against yours and you slowly find yourself coming to.

The first thing you notice is the dull pain between your thighs from the stretch of your stepdad’s cock inside you.

The second thing you notice is the wet sounds in the air of his hips meeting yours.

The third thing you notice is Sonny himself.

“Dad…?” You mumble as you try to sit up, movements groggy and slow from sleep. “Shh, sweetie. ‘S okay, jus’ go back to sleep.” Sonny tells you gently as he lays you back down on the bed, his larger body crushing yours.

Sonny can feel his inhibitions leaving now that you’re awake, no longer worried about possibly waking you. Now that you’re awake he could focus on your pleasure, eager to hear every moan and whimper he can pull out of you. “Wh– what are you–?” Your question is cut off by a particularly deep thrust that leaves you breathless.

“‘M not done, honey. Jus’ a little bit more, okay?” Sonny grunts as his thighs slap against yours, your pussy gushing around him unknowingly to you. Your sharp gasp fills the room as the tip of his cock hits your cervix, filling you in a way that was indescribable.

“Dad– S–slow down–” you plead with him, still not having adjusted to his size since waking up. “Oh I know, honey. Daddy’s sorry, sweetheart.” Sonny apologies as he continues using your poor abused cunt.

Two fingers rub firm circles over your sensitive swollen clit as you bury your face into his neck. “Oh there you go. Feels good huh, baby?” Sonny coos as you nod against him. Your pussy clenches around him as he grins, there was nothing he loved more than making his baby cum.

Your body shakes against him as he pulls your orgasm out of you, steady fingers never leaving your clit as he fucks you through it. Your walls clamp down around him and Sonny lets out a deep guttural groan from the way you soak his cock. “Fuck, that’s it baby. Cum all over Daddy’s cock. Such a perfect fuckin’ angel–”

Sonny pounds into you faster and harder than expected as he chases his own release. Sweat rolls down his back as you drool against his shoulder while you lie there and take it, just like he told you to. “Oh fuck, that’s good. So fuckin’ good.” He moans as his cock punches your cervix repeatedly.

Without warning Sonny’s back bows as he cums hard and deep inside you. “Fuck– take it baby– take all of it–” he growls in your ear as he fills you with his hot and sticky cum. You’re too out of it to realize he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck baby, ya really milked me dry, huh?” Sonny chuckles against your neck as he lazily fucks his cum inside of you. You wince from the feeling as you come down from your high, reality settling back in. “I thought I said…” you whine, not sure if you’re talking about the fact that he came inside you or that you had sex with him in the first place.

Sonny presses a chaste kiss against your lips before unceremoniously sliding out of you, his cum spilling out onto the sheets. He’ll do you a favor and wash your sheets for you, he’s not that cruel. Tucking himself back in Sonny gently pats your thigh.

“Alright, up. Ya slept through dinner.”

[classicfilmblr]

Psycho dir. Alfred Hitchcock | 1960

[yourdaddyfigure]

Please love, roll your eyes again. Give daddy a good reason to leave a pretty handprint on your face.

[verpissdich]

[afterdarkftm]

I'm totally not thinking about grinding on someone's bulge. whining and moaning like a stupid slut begging for more…..that would be crazy

[theprettiestinpink]

Fuck I wanna grind on a bulge with a big t-shirt/panties combooooo

[xdreamyxdaddyx]

Good girls love to suck dad cock.

[russianblush]

JOSEPH QUINN as ERIC A Quiet Place: Day One (2024), dir. Michael Sarnoski

[dix0nvix3n]

this image is just so,,,, y’all I could get so explicit but I won’t. He is so strong and so broad. LIKE. the exertion. ohmygod.

[vevoblog]

let’s just watch movies in just our underwear and kiss a lot