Hi!!!! I hope you don’t mind writing about Realcest Michael Robinavitch, please.
They’re in the living room watching something. He notices the way she’s sitting and then notices her expression. Her heel is flush against her pussy as she’s sitting with two crossed legs or one leg bent. Maybe she’s just realising now for the first time how good this feels against her clit.
Pushes in the heel of her foot a bit more or grinds very slowly and sporadically since robby is there and she doesn’t want him to notice. Squirming here and there.
I honestly don’t know what’s his move next😅 up to you, but he knows it seems like she just discovered this now and is really liking it.
omg i’ve been waiting for this one….
michael robinavitch x daughter!reader. CW: INCEST. read the tags. block them. do not trigger yourself and then whine to me. it is your responsibility to manage yourself. daddaughterdaddaughterdaddaughter, 1.2k words
you and your dad have your rituals.
robby wasn’t the type of father who made it to every event, every game, every anything. you understood that. he is a doctor. he saves lives. and that, sometimes, is more important than anything you are doing.
but that does not mean he has no care for you. when he gets off shift, the first thing he does is come home. he asks you about your day, he brushes your hair. he says “kiddo” in that soft, tired voice. you do not know why it makes you squirm. but it does.
and, every friday night, you watch a movie together. recently, you had gotten very into shark movies, much to your father’s chagrin. he’s made you cocoa now, even though the summer night is hot and there is no real need for it. you lean into him as he kisses the crown of your head. “what are you planning on torturing me with today?” you glare. “it’s called 47 meters deep.”
he rolls his eyes. “course it is. a man can’t get a normal sci fi movie around here.” you point a finger at him. “be glad i’m not making you watch mean girls again.” he lifts his hands, openly surrendering. “trust me, i’m grateful. don’t even know why you watch those fucking chick flicks anyway.”
you do not reply, simply click the remote and scroll to the film. he pets your hair. “have a good day, kid?” you nod absently, letting yourself soak up his undivided attention.
you do not lie to yourself. often, you are very jealous of his patients. they get his full care. your dad. your only parent, considering your mom up and left years ago, and you’d have to be close to death to get the same level of care.
robby sucks in a breath. he rubs the back of his neck. “listen— i wanted to say that i’m sorry for missing that—” your voice goes cold. “i get it. you were called. you couldn’t come.” he notices the bite. he does not comment. “thank you, sweetheart.”
your eyes fixate on the screen as a sting plays, the shark swirling around the divers on screen. he mumbles. “this is ridiculous. what type of parent would let their daughters go shark diving.” you inhale, irritated at the interruption. “not everyone asks their parent’s permission for everything. specially not adults.” he raises a brow, squeezing the back of your neck. you are not sure if it is playful or not. “well, you would. and i’d say, no chance in hell. not playing with my baby girl’s life like that.”
you try to ignore the rush of heat that pulses through you. normal girls do not get aroused by their father being protective. you know that. you know that because you are a completely normal girl.
robby looks over his glasses at you, squeezing again. “you would ask, wouldn’t you? because not asking is the reason those stupid girls are gonna die at the end of the movie.” you shift slightly, drawing your heel against sleep shorts, trying to press subtly. “yes, dad. i’d ask. relax.”
he smiles, triumphant. “not that you’d be going on any trips by yourself, of course.” you roll your eyes. “like you’d notice if i did.”
he grabs the remote, pausing. “what’s that supposed to mean. i wouldn’t notice my only child going off to die? are you serious? kid, i notice everything about you.”
well, maybe not everything.
you press your heel in again, trying not to let your eyes roll back. you need to find a way to go to bed early. take care of yourself. just fingers and your phone.
his hand settles at your shoulder and the movie resumes. you try not to think of the pattern of your father’s breathing. of the way he sounds when he’s disappointed. maybe you should disappoint him. get arrested. force him to bail you out. you control a slight buck of your hips. his breath smells like mint. altoids. beer. he never allowed you to drink. too many studies on how it fucks up kid’s brains.
your breathing changes slightly as you try to control yourself. he glances down at you. “you good, kiddo? scared of the movie?” you shake your head, speech failing you.
the movie continues. there are screams, sobs, the constant, ever present weight of your father’s hand on you. you can feel yourself getting unpleasantly wetter, causing your shorts to slip and slide with little resistance.
you try not to look at him, still in black scrubs. he normally doesn’t change until right before he goes to bed, and there’s no anomaly here. do not sexualize your father. he would be horrified.
at that, your hips give a little buck against your heel. robby looks down, quick enough to catch the movement. his lips part. he closes them. he tries again. “kid?”
you shake your head. he flicks your cheek. “whatcha doing there?” you push his hand away. “stop being annoying.” you can feel the stern look he gives you, though your eyes are closed. “that the way we’re talking to dad, now?” your head shakes again. “good, that’s what i thought.”
he drags your hand, making you stand in front of him. “shorts down, sweetheart. let dad take a look.” you whine, but he makes that face again. you stomp your foot uselessly as he tugs at the cloth. “always were a thumper, weren’t you? i’d put you in time out and you’d just huff and puff and stomp.”
he reaches a hand between your legs, long, thick fingers clinically passing over your clit, your entrance. you squirm.
“yeah, i can see the problem here. someone got a little worked up.”
you blush. “did not!” he barks out a laugh “did too! look at that. got all soaked between your legs while watching a movie.”
you whine, shaking your head. “no!” he sighs, patting your bottom gently. “deny it all you want, hon. dad knows what’s going on. bend over, now.” you don’t. all of a sudden, force at your back, your hands at the coffee table. “let’s take a little look. deep breath in,” he plunges two fingers inside you, you squeal like a stuck pig, “deep breath out.”
his fingers start working you open. “all this, just for little old me? no other boy, right?” you shake your head. “no one else, daddy.”
he sighs. “see. daddy. that’s what i like to hear.” his fingers curl inside you. “that’s what conveys the proper amount of respect for the man who has worked tirelessly to make sure you got to do all your shopping, all your school trips, all your extracurriculars. worked even more when you were in school. you know that.”
your eyes roll back, this time, not in annoyance. he smiles, sharp as any shark you would’ve watched on tv. “that’s it. let dad take care of you. just like he always does.” he sighs, lamenting. “it’s a thankless job, being a father. but it’s honest work.” you clench around him, body spasming.
he keeps working you, far past the point of your first orgasm. by the time he withdraws, you are collapsed fully against the coffee table. he wipes his fingers off, swiping them over your mound. pulls your shorts up. kisses you on the head so sweetly, so paternally.
“i think it’s about time this little girl got up to bed, isn’t it?”
