daddies.

all dads, all the time. 18+ only.

[dcddies]

probably revamping. stay tuned, or don't, i'm not your daddy.

[dcddies]

not dead, just lacking in any ability to do anything at all. xo

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Some guys were hopeless when dealing with Mylo’s pussy. Frankly, it was pretty problematic of cis guys to not be prepared to deal with something other than a dick, and it usually led to those encounters ending on a disappointing note. But not with Carson. He was always good. If anything, Mylo’s situation seemed to make him even more desirable in Carson’s eyes. Maybe that’s why he found himself so attracted to his boss, beyond the obvious good looks.

“Nngh,” the boy cries out, moaning around Carson’s thick digits as they deftly worked his pretty cunt open. As if feeling that dick imprint wasn’t enough to turn him on…

He nods his head profusely. “Just for you, daddy… nobody else but you.” This was a bold-faced lie and Carson probably knew it. Mylo got around more than the newspaper. But just because that was the truth didn’t mean he couldn’t play the role of nubile young twink who’s never been touched. It only made their relationship more satisfying. 

Carson can’t help but grin. He likes Mylo for the understanding between them. It’s probably best described as a fetish, but he can’t help but confess he’s got a soft spot for the kid. Before he started working at the club, he’d cycle through half a dozen dancers a week. But what’s usually lust gets corrupted by attachment and enjoyment. He’s not a man who enjoys the company of many people: it’s hard to trust when you’re in this line of work. But Mylo’s something of a confidante. Even if the only secrets he knowingly carries are about his wife and the affair, it’s still better than nothing.

A hand firmly holding him in place, the other continues probing in and deeper inside of his boy, curling to find his sweet spot. His free hand moves, curling behind Mylo’s neck to scoop him up, pull them both closer for a kiss. Another important distinction between Mylo and the other dancers. Sometimes he deserves a little pampering. “Tell daddy you want his cock, baby boy,” he whispers while pulling his lips back. “Tell me how bad you wanna get fucked tonight.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Garrett sighs to himself, disappointed by Jace’s lack of willingness to cooperate with him and contribute to the session. This wasn’t unusual; just frustrating. But he couldn’t let Jace know he was feeling inconvenienced by the younger man’s glumness. That wouldn’t have been professional.

“If you’re really looking to get out of here, Jace, then it would behoove you to share your thoughts with me. The more you tell me about yourself, the quicker the time will fly by, I promise. This is only our first session; it’s natural you’d feel cagey with me.”

Speaking of cages, Jace’s pants were fighting for dear life to contain that massive cock underneath, which a brief glance alerted Garrett to. Nope. Don’t get distracted. Even if it’s been months since you last had sex with your ex-partner.

Jace cuts his eyes so hard he’s seeing grey matter. A dumb grin forms on his face as he rolls to the side to see how much he’s bothering Garrett. That’s the real fun of the session, pissing off the guy being paid to rehabilitate you. But it’s not what he sees that gets his attention, it’s the sudden look away from his crotch that sparks Jace’s interest. 

He chuckles. “I dunno, doc, I think I’m being pretty open.” He rolls onto his back again, biting down on his bottom lip as he rolls his hips up, cock straining in his sweats. As his ass hits the sofa once more, he lets out a quiet, devious moan. Then the fun really begins, as his hand snakes down beneath the elastic of his pants and Jace starts tugging at it. He doesn’t pull it out yet, but he wants to make sure Garrett sees him “adjusting” himself. “What’s next? Are you gonna ask if I got daddy issues?”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Okay, damn. Eugene seemed to have a nice dick, even if it wasn’t at full mast just yet. Richard genuinely wasn’t prepared for the revelation, and— wait, why was he hard at all? Did he have that erection the entire time they’d been talking? Better yet, why was Richard so turned on by this imbecile? Ugh.

Stop being dickmatized. Take a breath, Snell. 

“What is this all about, Park? That’s— you’re disgusting. Maybe that sort of thing works for you perverted liberals, but not me. I could have you #MeToo’d for that, y’know. Sexual harassment goes both ways.”

Nice save.

Were it not for the boner Richard was sporting, Eugene might’ve actually felt bad. But there’s wanting it and not wanting it, and he’s convinced that Richard wants it. He denies it for the cameras, maybe even for his pride, but Snell’s been asking for it for a long time. He’s just the last to find out.

When Eugene sits down, it’s right next to Richard. Close enough to smell his Justin Beiber cologne. They’ve both got dickprint, one’s feigning heterosexuality, there’s really no need for barriers between them at this moment. “Do us both a favour,” he says quietly, arm reaching back to wrap around Richard’s shoulders, pulling him in even closer. “Just shut up and suck. I’m sure you’re less opinionated with a dick in your mouth.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Garrett nods reverently but doesn’t interrupt, as to let Jace know he was being heard. It was important to let patients talk; it made them feel comfortable to explain themselves. A hostile patient was an unhappy patient — but Jace still seemed plenty hostile regardless.

“No, that’s not what I’m here for, Jace,” he says, tone calm as ever, even if that little comment about his brother killing a therapist made Garrett feel a bit concerned for his own safety. Just a tad. “I don’t know what prior experience you’ve had with therapy, but I’m not here to make a judgement call on your personality. I’m here to listen and help you figure out some things about yourself, alright? Now, I’m going to ask you – are you still in contact with your family? You don’t seem like you are. That’s an important thing to discuss. Do you have friends you’re close with? How do they feel about your situation?”

“Nope,” he says simply, stifling a yawn. He doesn’t clarify which question he’s answering, as frankly the distinction doesn’t matter. The answer’s not the same, but he’s not about to narc out his friends (well, inasmuch as the people he parties with and has never had a meaningful conversation with can be considered friends). 

Jace shifts on the lounger, now flat on his back rather than turned away. A little smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, mind wandered far enough to pop a subconscious chub, his sweatpants not doing much to hide it. He lets his legs stretch out, showing off the tenting cotton blend. He closes his eyes, reaches down to readjust, and lets out a contented sigh. “How much longer in the session, doc?” he asks, as if he’s been there longer than 10 minutes and the hour is nearly up. “Starting to get antsy. Last time I got antsy, I got court-ordered therapy.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Eugene was just one of those entitled liberals who thought they could just say things without reproach. How did conservatives get that reputation when liberals were so, so much worse? People like Eugene were why Tr*mp won.

“You think I would ever take it up the ass? Gimme a fuckin’ break, Park. If anybody is gonna be the bitch, it’s you. All that soy in your diet makes you a bitch. And you know what they say about Asians… they’re known to be submissive,” Richard sneers, knowing just how problematic his words were. He didn’t even believe the stereotype himself — he just wanted to trigger Eugene. “Besides, if we were the last people on Earth, I wouldn’t even consider getting off with you. I’d rather die with blue balls than be on the receiving end of your short, limp dick.” 

Kinda gay to describe what you think another man’s cock looks like, but whatever, Richard…

Choosing to ignore Richard’s blatant racism is easier said than done. A thousand yard stare and a slow exhale later and he thinks he’s managed to calm himself down. All this lashing out, the obvious attempts to get under his skin, it doesn’t broker any empathy from Eugene, but there’s one simple fact that keeps him from storming off: Richard knows more than most about Eugene’s... proclivities. He knows better than to risk whatever sort of relationship this was by showing weakness.

So he has to show dominance instead.

“The troll doth protest too much,” Eugene says flatly. As he does, he gets to his feet, and rather quickly reaches for his own crotch, sporting half a chub. He takes a brief opportunity to show it off before letting go. “I think you’re just worried that if we measured up, I’d emasculate you. I know how hard it must be, when everything you say and do is a dick measuring contest, but when it counts...” He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “It just falls short.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Mylo didn’t even have the specter of ~*daddy issues*~ to defend his taste for married older men — he was just a downright slut who lived for being a home-wrecker. That was the honest truth. Was it problematic? Sure enough. Did he write it off as him just living his bliss? Absolutely. Why did he have to be a role model? Couldn’t he just live own his own terms and do whatever he wanted? God.

If Carson wanted to shove a variety of appendages inside his tight pussy — tongue, fingers, cock— who would Mylo be to refuse him? Clearly he wasn’t getting this sort of release from his  bitch of a wife [sic] and if wasn’t going to be her, then why not Mylo? It could’ve been way worse — it could’ve been someone who didn’t welcome Carson’s advances as easily. Really, Mylo was doing that hypothetical person a favor.

But Carson was also doing him quite the favor, so to speak. “I love it, daddy,” Mylo purrs to a moan, looking down at the older man as he toyed with the boy’s pretty little cunt, bringing a sly hand down to flick at his nub of a penis while Carson ate him out. “Love how it big you feel in my pussy, mhm…”

Carson’s tongue slips up, teasing Mylo’s clit once more, taking the boy’s fingers between his lips as he rose higher up, pulling away. Always give, but leave them wanting more. The soft, tender, gesture is just a momentary bliss, a distraction as Carson’s hands grip a little tighter to Mylo’s thighs and pull him forcefully further down the desk, so his ass was just slightly hanging over the edge, and he could feel the outline of daddy’s cock through his slacks, pressed up against the presented pussy.

“That’s a good boy,” he says, giving one hand free reign to up the boy’s smooth chest, then back down again to tease. His thick fingers reach Mylo’s cunt and one presses inside, curling at the first knuckle. By now he knows how much Mylo can take, and it’s more than just the tip of a finger, but he makes the choice to start working himself in a little more slowly. It’s not Mylo he’s mad at, after all. “So tight, baby... damn, have you been saving yourself?”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Garrett met with patients like this all the time — the cocky, above-it-all cool guys who were only in therapy for extraneous reasoning, usually involving a court ruling. They were always more bark than bite; all it took was a few sessions to get them comfortable with him, and then the real growth began. Garrett was happy to say that he had a near-universal success rate in helping to rehabilitate these rowdy young men into functioning members of society who actually conducted themselves like adults.

Jace was just another example of these. Hot-headed, unwilling to cooperate, difficult. A little harder to dig into than most, admittedly, but Garrett was a professional. He wouldn’t give up so easily.

“I’d like to talk about your home life growing up,” says Garrett, softer than a feather.”More often than not, our personalities are shaped by the environment we were raised in… were your parents tough on you as a kid? Did you get along with them? What about your siblings, if you have any?”

Were it not a stipulation of his probation, Jace wouldn’t be here at all. The upside is there’s no court order saying he had to participate, he just has to show up. And if sitting with a middle aged wannabe Dr. Ruth for an hour every week is how he stays out of prison, he’s willing to make peace with that.

But then the fucker goes and opens his mouth and, without fail, Jace is seeing red. He’s got no interest in talking, and less still in listening to a cucky senior citizen trying to calm his emotions and relate to him. He shifts his leg a little restlessly, rolls his eyes something fierce, and makes a big show of stretching out on the couch. His hoodie catches a little too tight as he tries to roll away from the source, sweatpants clinging for dear life.

“Dad’s a drunk, mom’s been gone since I was twelve. Brother’s a real piece of shit, makes me look like a saint. 25-to-life for killing his therapist.” He turns his head back, flashing his teeth almost threateningly, before once again fully turning himself away from the shrink. “Go ahead, psychoanalyze it. I already know it’s why you think I’m fucked up.”

[dcddies]

hi, hey, hello. i’ve added two and a half new characters (one is technically private cuz he doesn’t quite fit the ~vibe i’m going for here, but he’s down if you’re down!)! i’ve got fuller write-ups coming. not a lot of time for a bunch of new stuff, but like this post and i’ll go through your open starters tag? if i see something i’m into, i’ll reply!

otherwise, feel free to msg/reply here if there’s someone specific you’re interested in and we can work something out.

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Mylo fully recognizes that, if Carson were even slightly less attractive than he was, that this would be grounds for an epic sexual harassment case. He’s woke. He knows these things. But if getting on his employer’s good side meant getting him off, then Mylo was more than willing to play along. Besides, Mylo rarely hooked up with guys as hot as Carson anyway. It was a mutually-beneficial arrangement.

The sudden burst of Carson’s fingers over his tender pussy sends shockwaves through Mylo’s body, and he hates (or loves?) that it’s so easy to have that effect on him. “Why are you sto—” the boy begins, his inquisition brought to a swift end once Carson maneuvers themselves into a new position — one tailored towards what the older man had on his mind. “You’re an asshole,” Mylo giggles in responds, impatient with lust to feel Carson taste him.

The way Carson sees it, it’s only morally wrong if he pushes harder than he does. He likes to think this tryst of his is mutual, even if the root of the problem is physical. Clearly he gets something more out of the arrangement, but he also hopes that it goes both ways. But he’s never seen Mylo in a mood that needed a heart-to-heart to solve. 

Until then, he’s happy to keep things as they are.

The scruff of his beard brushes against Mylo’s thighs as his lips run over the boy’s, his tongue brushing over Mylo’s clit. “Mmm,” he hums, glancing up along the long, stringbean body beneath him. “Definitely tastes better, too, baby... You like that?” he questions, a long drag with his tongue pressing to his pussy, hands gripping Mylo’s sides. “You like when your daddy’s inside you?” 

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

The mere mention of that phrase —closet case— fills Richard with anger. Not enough to lash out at Eugene, because he’s savvy enough to know the optics of that situation just weren’t on his side, but he’s clearly upset all the same. And he hates it. The only thing worse than a triggered liberal is a liberal who weaponizes that same smugness back to a conservative.

“Unlike you people, my personality doesn’t revolve around identity politics. What I do it in my private life is my damn business,” he says, trying his best to not sound offended. He takes a breath, and his face changes from a hot shade of pink to its normal beige tone. Then a knowing smirk. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to beat me at my own game, Park. I’ve been doing this too damn long to break that easily.”

Almost got him, too. Riling Richard up off-camera doesn’t seem like a way Eugene likes to have fun, but it’s hard not to take the bait. Especially when he knows he’s got the leverage. “But you were so close,” he says, with a low and playful tone. “Haven’t seen you get that red in the face since the last time...” Trailing off, he flashes a knowing smirk of his own, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone.

“What was our deal, again?” he questions, peeking up while scrolling through a few emails he figures can wait until after lunch to answer, loading up Twitter in the meanwhile. “Whoever gets more Twitter hate has to take it up the ass next time, right?” It’s easy and conversational, strangely flirty, but mostly taunting. “Should we start counting anon hate, or are you going to start calling fake news on this, too?”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

“You should know better than anyone that we’ll be in 2020 sooner than we think,” Richard says, sauntering over to sit next to his stupidly handsome opponent. “How many Dems have announced presidential campaigns already, hmm? Before we know it, we’ll be in November, casting our ballots… and Pr*sident Tr*mp will get another four years in office. You know why? Because while you liberals are still hung up on your identity politics, the rest of us will have mobilized enough to make people vote Red, even if it’s not in their better interests. That’s the difference between you and me,” he says, accepting the plate with his characteristically smug grin.

It should be clear that Richard only truly believes some of what he says. That little monologue? A performance. For show. A pundit like Richard, after all, is only as good as his ability to peddle any of shit to his audience. 

Eugene is protesting even before the words spill out of his shit-eating lips. “I thought we agreed not to speak his name when the cameras aren’t rolling,” he says, but lets the man finish his soapbox speech, doing his best to avoid the obvious disdain and cutting eye rolls he’s programmed to make. “You know, for a closet case, you sure do seem to actually believe what you’re saying.”

He grins, leaning back against the green room sofa, arms parted over the cushions to either side of him, one leg crossed over his knee, staring down his -- friend, enemy, whatever line it is they’re currently straddling. “They’re never going to give you their full blessing, you know,” he says, almost chastising. “And you can’t even suck them off to make them like you. You’re fighting a losing battle, Richard. At least I let you use my shower before I kick you out.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Mylo doesn’t need to be beckoned over twice, and saunters his way to Carson’s lap, perching his pretty little behind atop the older man’s crotch, settling both legs on either side of Carson’s person. He doesn’t quite feel a burgeoning erection in his boss’ pants yet, but it’s more of an inevitability than uncertainty. Nothing he can’t finagle into being.

“No offense, but she sounds like a bitch,” Mylo giggles, gingerly wrapping his toned arms around Carson’s neck. The arrogance of youth was strong in this one, and it showed. “If you were my husband, I’d treat you soooo good, daddy…” he begins, bucking his hips up into the air and gently slamming back down, working some friction against Carson’s crotch. “Bet she doesn’t even put out anymore, does she?” Mylo suggests, leaning in a bit closer to whisper in Carson’s ear. “Bet her pussy doesn’t feel as good as mine does, either.”

He’s not wrong, that’s half the problem. That pretty little mouth could spin circles around him, never a good thing when his mind was already wandering away. Straying from the vows he’d made. Carson never claimed to be a good man, but it was his family who often got the brunt of his failures. His hand rides up Mylo’s thigh, the skimpy dancing outfit barely covering him. He twists his fingers into the waistband, moving closer to the boy’s core.

“Not as tight,” he answers back in an equal whisper, a growl -- almost possessive -- to his tone. Carson’s fingers draw over Mylo’s cunt, heavy and thick against his delicate skin. But just as quickly as he’s in, Carson pulls back. In a fluid motion, he starts to rise, hoisting Mylo up to the surface of the desk before him. One hand stays at the boy’s hip, the other begins to push him back into a more comfortable position. “But let me have a taste,” he hums, “for comparison’s sake.”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Dancing at Carson’s club wasn’t a bad gig — Mylo could certainly remember worse ones. At the very least, the big guy didn’t seem to care very much that he was trans, and even seemed to prefer it. A low bar to pass? Sure. But Mylo was more than happy to have one at all. The lad just figured it meant Carson was a man of discerning taste. And really, who wouldn’t be into Mylo? In most cases, being sexually involved with the boss was grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit. But in this one, it was an incentive more than anything. 

“Be right there, daddy,” Mylo purrs, stuffing a wayward dollar bill into his teeny-tiny thong. As much as he liked dancing, Mylo would much rather entertain his boss in the confines of his office — his private office. Once the song was finished, Mylo sauntered his way Carson’s quarters, alerting the older man to his presence with a series of lazy knocks on the door. “So, what did she say this time,” he asks with a knowing smirk, happy to fulfill his secondary role as “stress relief” whenever Carson decided he needed it.

         Carson knows better than to get too attached to any of his dancers, as it only causes more harm than good in the long run. Whenever she catches wind of his attachments, they tend to get chased out. A shame, really. He only goes for the pretty ones, only the best, and even though the club is just a front for other things, it’s always nice when it can cover its own overhead and keep them paid. 

With Mylo, he’s really just lucky that she doesn’t think the kid is his type. And he’s not, usually, but... hey, when in Rome. Carson looks up lazily at his entrance, flashing a small, tired smile while waving him closer with two fingers, leaning back in the leather-backed chair and patting his lap. “She thinks I need to be home more, that the place can take care of itself.” He laughs low, gravel in his throat. “Shame, though.” He reaches out, fingers on Mylo’s soft skin, grazing his stomach to pull him into his lap.. “She thinks I should be taking care of her. When’s the last time she took care of me?”

[dcddies]

multipackers‌:

Look, Richard knew politics was all a game, when you really got down to it. He didn’t even believe in most of the shit he shilled for. Not anymore. But when you’ve made a career out of certain talking points repeated ad nauseam until it becomes your brand, you’re pretty much stuck with that shit. Richard was just exceptionally good at twisting facts in his favor.

“Last time I checked, my losing team was still the one running things, is it not?” Richard sneers in response, leaning against a nearby wall with his typical, cocky slant. “At least we can actually win elections. You liberals couldn’t pick a viable candidate if one literally got on all fours and presented their asshole to you. Sorry, that wasn’t very PC — their rear ends. I know you folks love not offending anybody.” 

His words sound pointed —and they are— but there’s almost a sense of camaraderie in their sparring. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re both hot-blooded men who are very clearly attracted to one another.

          Few people can piss Eugene off quite like Richard does, but something about the man’s antagonism leads to slightly less animosity. In a lot of ways, Gene pities him, but that pity gives way quickly to resentment for somebody so willing to stand up for their ideals: even when those ideals run counter to his best interest. Richard Snell is a self-serving narcissist who likes the sound of his own voice more than anything else.

And yet Eugene doesn’t hate him the way he does his peers.

“2020 is only two years away,” he points out with a raised brow, unscrewing the cap of a water bottle. “I expect plenty of things to change by then. You might want to start hitching your horse to that wagon. I know how much you hate being wrong.” Despite his own tone, he manages a small smile. “I’ve got an hour before my next appointment.” He offers the small paper plate forward, some cheese and grapes on it. “Lunch?”

[dcddies]

         ꧁  @multipackers ꧂

          Carson hangs up the phone without so much as a love you, goodnight, chasing the tail end of a bad conversation with another drink of his scotch. The club around him is lively, vibrant, a haze of smoke hanging down from the ceiling, but he’s focused entirely in on himself. 

Without a word, he gets to his feet, which causes a ruckus at two adjacent tables as his protection begins to rise, but he waves them off with a simple gesture and a shake of the head. They watch him go, cutting around the sides of the room, a little more present now. His eyes are looking for someone in particular amid the crowd of people. And when Carson spots him, he leans in. “Going upstairs,” he says in a deep, heavy tone, loud enough to be heard over the music playing. The stairwell to his office just a few steps away, barely a reprieve from the club’s excess but the best he can get on short notice. “If you’re not busy, I’ve got plenty of cash and could use the company.”