A reader having to live with her wealthy shadow monster step dad. He's estranged, but he is very happy to have her here and is spoiling her. It's not all innocent, he gives her a potent sleeping aide and he is going to explore her body. Making hands on discoveries like finding out how big her breasts and hips have gotten, finding out she has inverted nipples, oh and that tattoo on her ass cheek-nice, and what's this, her hymen is intact? Not for long.
Kabr0z Writes episode 154: Fatherhood
Find the masterlist here!
Ao3!
A/N: The horrors persist, and so do I! Nevermind that it's been almost a month since the last episode release! Nothing bad happened, don't worry, I've just been hella busy in the times I'd normally be writing
CWs: incest; age gap; dadcest; immobilisation; intox; noncon; squirting;
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He always told you to call him if you wanted anything.
As you unblocked his number, you hoped he was right. You sat on the kerb, a pair of cardboard boxes holding your only worldly possessions next to you. It’s not like you weren’t expecting your mother to flip out a little when you brought your first boyfriend home, but kicking you out is a little extreme. For fuck’s sake you’re an adult, she can’t expect you to just not date for your whole life. But no, her roof, her rules like you’d been told dozens of times a week for the past eighteen years. Now you’re here. About to message the person you most wanted nothing to do with in the entire world.
How do you talk to someone you haven’t spoken to in years? Your mother split with him when you were tiny, barely old enough to walk. When he reached out during your teenage years you blocked him, because of course you did. Mother knows best, and she always said he was bad news. In hindsight, that should’ve tipped you off that she just didn’t want you getting his side of things, but you were a kid and kids are always a little stupid by default. That’s what parents are meant to be for, when they’re not turbo-bitches trying to control your every decision. Fuck. Sat on the pavement, finger over the send button, you cannot believe you let her talk you out of university. There’s still time for that next year, at least.
You pressed the button. It wasn’t much of a message, just asking him to pick you up from where you were. Either way, it sent and you leaned back. You tried to remember what he looked like. You’re sure you didn’t get much from him, your mousy brown hair and prominent nose were all your mother’s, as was your hourglass figure. You were a fair bit taller than her, but you always chalked that down to her smoking since she was thirteen. The only thing you're sure came from your father are your eyes. Black on black, with a peculiar shine that only really came through in film photographs. Of course, ice-pale skin and solid black eyes earned you a fair number of insensitive nicknames on the playground but you never cared.
Lost in thought, you didn't see the read receipt update silently on your message. Nor did you notice the blacked out Benz until it stopped gracefully in front of you. The door opened, and he stepped out.
“Hey, Chickidoo” His voice sounded weird. Not because it was weird, but because it was so normal. Not too deep, just a little gravelly, like any other middle-aged man who goes through a pack of cigarettes every other day. What made it weird was the face it came from. Or perhaps, lack of a face. Your father wore a tailored suit. A charcoal gray jacket and waistcoat over a white silk shirt tucked into matching trousers. A deep blue tie completed the ensemble, with some embellishments from a brushed steel watch on his left wrist. The reality of men's formalwear meant he was dressed like every other investment banker in London. The realities of his biology meant that was where the similarities ended. The suit, while filled out perfectly, contained nothing more than semi-transparent smoke. Thick, black tendrils of smog formed into the shape of a person. Tangible enough to drive, but still diaphanous. The only part of him that didn't seem to shift were his eyes. You definitely got them from him, only where the supernal glare only showed in photos for you, it was all the time for him. Flashes of black light, leaving spots on your vision when you looked up at him too long.
“You haven't called me that for fifteen years”
“Well, you haven't given me many opportunities” He was smiling, you're not certain how you knew that, but he was. Already climbing out of the car, picking up the boxes as though they weighed both before loading them into the boot. “Hopefully we can catch up a little, for now let's get you moved in and settled.”
“How'd you know I needed a place to stay?” You got into the car, pulling the seatbelt over you and cranking the air con “I wasn't exactly descriptive”
He looked at you, tilting his head “Oh yeah, because you'd call me for anything unless you had to? You’re my kid, stubborn's in your blood”
He pulled off, driving smoothly away. You didn't speak much in the car, he didn't force you. Instead you looked out of the window, mentally tuning out the cricket results playing over the radio. Suburbs changed to countryside then back to suburbs as he took the ring road around the city traffic. All this time, he never moved too far away.
“It feels awful to say it, considering,” He wasn't quite addressing you “but I had always kind of hoped you'd come to your senses. I can't bring myself to hate your mother, but she wasn't healthy to be around.” He sighed “Hopefully you’ll come to realise that too, if you haven't already”
He pulled into a driveway in front of a large detached house. Turning off the engine, he got out and gestured for you to do the same. “Grab your things, I'll get the door for you”
You carried the two boxes, some valuables, some mementos, everything worth saving - at least until you worked up the courage to face her and get the rest of your clothes. He led you upstairs, to a bedroom on the far end of the corridor
“The guest bedroom, though I must confess I did hope it’d be yours eventually.” He put your things on top of a dresser. “Sit down, get comfortable, I’ll bring you a cup of tea and we’ll catch up. Sound good?”
You nodded. The room was bigger than the one your mum gave you, noticeably so. You weren’t sure how you’d fill it though you were looking forward to finding out. You lay back, feeling the soft sheets under you. You hadn’t thought to bring bedding, come to think of it you hadn’t seriously expected him to show up so quickly when you asked.
He came back into the room, a mug in each hand, each with a teaspoon sticking out of it. He handed you one of them, a blue one “Yeah, no matching mugs here. We’ll get you one of your own tomorrow, when we go shopping for everything else it seems” He gestured at the two sad boxes, not even taking up all the space on top of the dresser “I got a couple of days off to get you settled.” He sighed, sitting next to you, “What do you think? Your old man did pretty well for himself, right?”
You returned the smile, taking a sip of the tea. It was bitter, a little floral. You blinked. Whatever it was, it was making your head spin. You dropped the mug, clinging onto the edge of the bed. Your vision swum and your heart raced. What the hell was in the tea?
“Hm. Might have been a little heavy handed there.” Your father pushed you down onto the sheets “But it should be fine. You're made of stern enough stuff, I'm sure.”
You stared up at him, shallow breath filling your lungs. Your limbs felt cold and heavy, like trying to lift weights just to curl your fingers. It was getting worse by the moment. Trying to call out only brought small, whimpering noises from your mouth, so weak you could barely hear them.
Those eyes bored into you. Silvery black. He was watching your face, the smoky outline of his head tilted to one side. Then a smile. “Good. Excellent. Now don't you worry, you won't remember a thing. Not for long, anyway, and certainly not when you're awake.” He shifted you onto the bed, leaving your legs splayed open. “Now, where to start?” He groped at your chest, grabbing a handful of the soft meat and kneading it against your ribs “this seems as good a place as any”
Carefully, he unbuttoned your shirt. Each flick of his fingers opening it that little bit wider, he made sure he didn't break off any buttons. He slipped it off, folding it neatly before setting it down and reaching behind you. A nimble one-handed motion released the hooks on your bra. He slipped it off you. Palming the soft mounds of flesh, gently squeezing them. He pinched your nipples, massaging them gently until they stood proud from the surface of your breast. Sliding his hand down your belly, he turned his attention south. Unbuttoning your jeans before manhandling them free.
He paused for a moment, taking you in. Running his hands over your legs, humming with satisfaction at the soft, smooth skin under his hands. He parted your legs, propping your heels up under your thighs and pulling your underwear to one side. Despite being seemingly made of smoke, his fingers parted your lips just fine. They rubbed against you, spreading the small amount of moisture over your skin, grazing your clit and probing at your entrance. A single finger slipped inside. He paused.
“What's this?” He smiled at you, looming over your paralysed face, staring into your eyes - the only part of you you could still love, “Still a virgin? Were you saving yourself just for me?”
He twisted his finger, pushing the tip into the upper wall of your cunt. You felt it twitch, responding already to his touch. He flexed his hand, thumb against your clit, middle finger buried inside you. Over and over, feeling the moisture start to cover his hand, watching as your body moved on its own. You could feel a pressure building. You felt like you needed to pee, your body holding it back, the muscles of your pelvic floor clenching against it. Your breath caught in your throat. Your back arched.
The pressure released. He laughed. A spray of liquid gushing from between your shaking thighs. “Wow, you really needed that, didn't you? Well, it gets better”
He stood next to the bed, cock in hand, still massaging your aching cunt. “You’re going to love this, you’ll see”
He slapped his cock against your swollen, twitching cunt. Gauging how wet you were. Satisfied you were still soaked with your own squirt, he pressed it into you with a thumb, then leaned forwards.
You felt him tear you open, the thick cock stretching your unused hole around it, forming you to his shape. Slowly, painfully, he inched inside. Leaning ever harder against you until he was butting up against your back wall, inches away from his hips meeting yours. He pulled back a little, then let himself go, pressing into you again, pushing a little deeper. Over and over, deeper and deeper. He took you, burying his cock deep inside, grunting with the effort to not go faster, not wanting to risk damaging you. Strong hands on your hips, holding your immobilised body still while he took what he wanted, all the while cooing how good it must feel for you.
He wasn't lying. You could feel the pressure building inside you again, stronger this time. Held in by the thick cock occupying your hole, getting stronger and stronger. Again your legs started to shake around him. Again your cunt clenched and tightened about the thickness inside it. Again your mind clouded, your thoughts becoming hazy and indistinct as the warmth of your impending orgasm filled your thoughts.
He buried himself in your cunt. One big thrust bottoming him out, his throbbing cock kissing your unprotected cervix. He leaned over you, gripping the back of your head and pulling your lips to his. You felt the warmth flow from him into you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. The pulsing throbbing inside your body, filling you with his essence. Driving you over the precipice.
Your legs cramped up, your orgasm painting both of your thighs in more of your slick and squirt. Still he hung on, still more of him found its way into you. At last he pulled away. A thin strand of sticky fluid still connected the two of you.
“Now, you’d better get some rest. Big day tomorrow”
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You know what I have? A ko-fi!
