Work Text:
“Your dad is a man with a hard life, be gentle.” Your mom’s voice resonates in your ears, even though she is far away from you, her familiar shake of the head and curled up brows flash in your mind. Too sweet, too nice, agonizingly when the topic is that man. You didn’t inherit this - you don’t know your dad, you’ve seen him only in photo albums, secretly hoping you don’t look like him.
It was amazing without him, really. You never felt the lack of dad. Good luck can’t last forever, cause the closest college was next to him. Perhaps, for once in his life, he decided to take responsibility.
So the house stands tall and in all its pride, looming over you as for the first time in your life a long time you feel like a little child again. The same feelings of those apartment buildings your eyes would study until the feeling that they will fall on you and the primal fear would force you to run away like a scared doe. This time is different.
Now standing in front of his door feels heavy, thoughts fill your brain anxiously - that’s the last thing you expect from yourself. Standing there and staring at it feels surreal, every passing second the door moves further from you. Blink. A normal door, it is in its place, nothing changed. Stress makes one mad. With a heavy sigh, your knuckles hit lightly the front door. Knock-knock. Silence, a little bit of rambling behind the door. Is he at home even? Or will he ignore you like always? You don’t care about this man, don’t change your mind. You are not a pussy. And this isn’t a meeting with the president.
This should be easy.
“Sorry, sweetheart..” A low and raspy voice comes out before the door opens. Your dad is in front of you. A look of hope and recognition flashes in his eyes before they get fogged by disappointment. What was that? Leon sighs, rubbing his eyes. “…did the road treat you well?”
“It was fine” you brush it off quickly, while your eyes are occupied on his face. That’s maybe your first time seeing him in flesh and blood. He looks good, but also like shit… light stubble across his cheeks, darkish spots under his eyes giving him an even more tired look. Messy dark brown hair, did he just wake up? He looks miserable. In photos he had much lighter hair, did he dye his hair when he was younger? Or blonde people just became darker with age. Unlucky for them.
Both don’t know how to act.
“Don’t stand like a statue, come on” His hand reaches for luggage, sighing again like it is heavy underpaid work on a construction site.
Tiredness washes over you after stepping inside. It looks okay here. Dusty, old, and empty bottles of cheap bourbon, no wonder he looks like shit, it is probably his first dry day since forever. A quick glance around, you didn’t catch many details, photos on shelves most of them were taken a long time ago - a photo of him and your mom, then another shelf with a girl with a red jacket and a big bear-looking man. Huge biceps. And your dad is in the middle.
“Did your mama tell you something about me?” His next question sets in the air as soon as the door closes with a click behind you. Luggage was already settled on the floor with a soft thump while you were busy studying the unmarried man’s dwelling.
Your mom. She is a good woman, with her own cons and pros - at the end of the day, she always tried to be a decent human being and you close your eyes on many things you didn’t comprehend. It is hard to raise a child alone in this economy. Still, dad as a word was empty - she never told you about him other than a simple “you have a dad”, “it is his birthday, don’t forget to call him.”. Nor he was a knight in shining armor tale-like, it was an empty word. And Daddy’s Girl or Princess is a mythological title, one you would see in movies.
“I don’t think so?” Why would she? You knew about his existence which is enough and your mom always tried to force him to interact with you. It didn’t turn out well - he’d always ignored your calls or messages. Even birthday texts.
It is awkward. His face is tensed; his eyes run away from yours, as his hand scrapes the stubble nervously - not pleased with the consequences of his own decision.
“Now… we have all the time to get to know each other” Leon speaks up again and you want to go to your room. He tries hard to pull out a memory related to you. Really. His fingers ran through his hair. “I was so busy these years” Yeah, crawling back to mom. “I remember we talked in a call, you were a cute kid, smart too”
“I don’t remember that” or like that. There is no memory other than one. And he still got it wrong. A call on your mom’s laptop which you accepted just to see his confused expression on the screen. There were no questions about your life, no greeting, just a simple one, you’d ask a stranger - “Where is your mom? Can you call her?”
“Cause you were a child, believe me,” Leon pauses. Trying to find another believable excuse. “Your old man isn’t going to mess up with you, dads are a girl’s first best friend”
“Sure…“ What a nonsense.
“Don’t be so vindictive” Leon tries to brush it off further. It isn’t hard to catch on to your clear hostility - the perks of his job.
“I am not” You shake your head. “…Just tired”
He wants to strangle you. No one likes a woman who talks too much or talks back to men. Even worse when somehow your tone and presence hint at his absence, - it is conscience talking. No man likes to be pointed to his own shit.
Leon silently watches you move to the stairs, dragging luggage behind you. An intrusive urge to keep the conversation going, to keep you here with him.
“You look so much like your mom, you know that?” His eyes travel from your face to your body. You stand there on the staircase, now higher than him, and look down. Like a judge silently deciding his fate. Leon clears his throat, his palm rubs his stubble again. “Your room is the first one to the right”
“…thank you”
For a moment, your stomach swirls uncomfortably at his blue eyes - they are sweet and warm, there is no hint of malice. At least you can’t catch it. But there is a hint of something else. Turbulent, like violent waves crashing against the rocks of the pier. And something raw. The latter you have seen that look in weird, creepy men in the bar - urging their hands on you or your friends.
To think of, you don’t know why he has a spare room in his house nor you are going to ask to not hear the answer you don’t want to swallow as a hard pill. It looks fine, better than you’ve expected. There are no posters or unique decorations - the same room you’d find in every hotel; too clean with every basic item and absence of constant living. You can fix it, unlike a hotel room.
——
It has been two months already, college keeps you busy and buried in your room, giving you more accessible excuses to avoid your dad. When he is at home, which isn’t a lot thankfully. The house is tremendously empty, even though the traces of him being here are visible, the feeling of loneliness is pressing on your brain every second of your little breaks. Nor is his presence calming, still, it soothes the void in your chest. Maybe you just miss back home, nostalgia makes the memories of the Sun warmer on your skin, ice cream tastier, and life easier.
Your panties have been disappearing. An unnatural amount, you’d be sure the place is haunted by a perverted ghost. Fortunately, you weren’t aware Leon was at fault. Nor did you try to ask him, maybe your dad appeared creepy and icky, but he wouldn’t steal your underwear, right? Most of his time he is out there working(or drinking in bars) or emptying one shot after another. And he can’t help himself, after all, you look like your mom, same face, the identical curve of your waist, and the same glimpse in your eyes.
“My ex-wife was struck by lightning, now she is my wife.“ Even your micro-expressions - your eye roll every time he jokes.
“No, she isn’t” No laughing, nothing. Your mom didn’t like his jokes either, the same tasteless bitch.
His genes didn’t fight back, perhaps one of the reasons Leon never cared for you until now. Like a cat after giving birth rejecting one of the kittens for an unexplainable reason. Instincts are wiser. He isn’t a mother, but he is a dad so this is applicable to him too, right? Of course, not because he was much busier to crawl back to your mom just to end up rejected for the thousandth time.
Your underwear is his guilty pleasure. Leon can’t help himself, he is long gone already. His attention easily glues to your underwear in his grip, free hand of habit frees his hard cock - it bobs up towards his hip and twitches in the air with already formed beads of pre-cum on his aching red tip - begging for any kind of attention. Your lips would be nice, the image of your lips around him, tracing the shape of the most prominent vein on his cock. Leon groans, leaning back against the back of the couch, the fabric of your underwear is so nice to feel pressed against his cock. O, to cum on your face - to see your pretty features to be tainted with his cum. His fist cups it in tighter, slowly pumping his cock and watching more pre-cum spill from the slit - staining your underwear, mixing with your scent. Another visual of you in his mind - your puffy folds in front of him, glistening with your slick, how his cock would press nicely in between your pussy lips, parting them and smearing your slick across his flesh. His cock twitches in his hand, quickening the pace and rubbing harder the soft fabric of your underwear.
There is a light, brief hint of clarity in his brain, whispering - Daughter! Your daughter! But it ends up being an encouragement to groan and stroking himself faster across his hardened cock until he finally gets his high. His cum spills over his knuckles and your underwear - he keeps stroking himself through his orgasm to hold on to this. Wet, dirty noises mix with his heavy breathing once he gets overwhelmed and too soft to keep it going.
At this point, this isn’t about your mom, but you. He doesn’t think about her anymore. His last chance to get what he had in his youth is you.
The obsession rooted deep in his body started to become heavier, every time you were doing your own business he wondered if your tits are the same as hers or even better. Does your pussy taste like her? Or better? Identical in appearance, the same would be applied to sex too, right? God, when his hands get on you, it would be so easy to play with you - the pressure on your spongy spot, to feel the familiar weight of your tits in his palm. He never met you until recently, but he knows your body to a T. He’d bet his teeth on that. You brought the smell of her back with the memories and he must not lose his last chance.
Maybe alcohol is doing its own deed, pushing even more inappropriate thoughts into his head - a good excuse for himself, there is no way he will admit to being on the bad side, too much happened in his life that ponders on him since he was 21 years old. Tonight Leon is brave, braver than he has ever been now that he is going to do something more than steal your underwear to jerk off on them. He’d make out with a bottle of alcohol as a gratitude.
Your entire presence here is like a gift after many years of enduring his job and rejections from your mom. You are a miracle, divine or not he hasn’t decided yet. You never lock your room, easier for your dad to get what he wants. And the night is young.
The mattress beneath you dips softly with added weight, in the dark room the outlines of your figure are still visible. You look peaceful, calm, and unaware of his presence. Of his intentions. and the edge of your shirt is riding up and shamelessly exposes the flesh of your stomach - what a tease you are and you don’t even realize it. Your unconscious body, deep in the sleep, and he probably has all night to enjoy you. This heightens his arousal, not daring to touch you for a solid minute - not believing this is real, this may be a divine gift at this point. Still need to decide on that. Blood buzzes in his ears; adrenaline, excitement, and alcohol pump his blood faster, for a moment afraid you may wake up without even having the taste of fucking you. Or he is going to have a stroke. Both scenarios aren’t optimal.
Already hard, not the hardest he has ever been - you should cut him some slack, alcohol isn’t the best friend with the boner and he is too excited. He grips his cock, slowly dragging his fist across his half-hard cock as his eyes are focused on your unconscious face. Your lips are parted slightly, a glimpse of your teeth and he can’t help himself again. Shifting closer to your face, guiding his cock to your mouth. The soft and plush skin of your lower lip connects with his tip. No need to rush, Leon, she is here, for you.
And what if she wakes up? A little bit of kitty scratches and weak slaps wouldn’t hurt. Actually, sounds even better; little bruises or scratches from you would work like an encouragement for him - in case, Leon can easily overpower you, anyway.
Slowly tracing the form of your lip with his tip, teasing himself for what is going to come. It has been years since he had a woman similar to her, they always lacked something. You are ideal. Whole. It is enough to slowly harden his cock, pre-cum bead forms on the slit just to smear it across your plush lip.
“Open up, let your dad have his fun” Finally. He nudges his cock in, slowly and watches your mouth easily open up as the tip disappears and gets enveloped with the wetness of your warm mouth.
And Leon gasps.
This is better than any pussy he had in years, maybe the lack of action comes back to haunt him - but he doesn’t care, his cock hardens in your mouth. It presses down on your tongue as he guides his hips back and forth slowly - the tip rubs on the soft surface of your wet heat. Not too rough or quick, in case you’d wake up so soon, he’d prefer that with his dick buried in your cunt. And to cum before he feels your cunt would be a sin. Your mouth hangs open, saliva hoards in the corner of it - you look like a perfect doll for him. Pulling his hard and wet cock out of your mouth, a string connects with your lips - like something he’d find in porn sites with dirty titles.
Deadbeat dad fucks his unconscious whore daughter - this would have been the title for the hypothetical porn video. And he gets even more excited.
Roughly pulling higher the fabric of your shirt, he needs to see your tits. To feel them in his palm. And they are perfect, he is memorized by the sight of your nipples stiffening up as the chillier air makes contact with them. His palm holds your breast, it fills so well - god, fuck, your tits were made for him, so perfectly sit in his hand and soft. A squeeze and they are softer than before. Softest even. Your skin is like the most expensive silk under his fingers, addicting to touch - your chest would cure his insomnia. This is something he’d expect to find in after death. Instead, he is alive and well. Miracle, alright.
“Your tits are perfect, better than I’ve imagined” Leon whispers, not flickering away from your chest.
His thumb and index fingers focus on your nipple now, in between their tips he applies more pressure. Soft, tender too. Your expression tenses, light twitches in your mouth, and how your eyebrows come together is so cute - he doesn’t even know what to stare at.
“What you like…” A light flick with his fingers on your nipple - your lips tense “This feels good, yeah?” This time his fingers twist - your lips part with a weak moan. “So good for me, for daddy” A pinch - another docile whimper, needy. For him. And his dick is painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and twitches in the air. Clearly unhappy with the neglect.
Leon isn’t in the mood to undress you - he is drunk and hard to the point his conscience doesn’t care what’s good or wrong, it whispers to him sweetly: get what you deserve, Leon, this is your gift after enduring everyone’s shit. The shit that woman’s pulled too.
“Let me see you” He positions in between your legs, fingers easily pulling aside the fabric of your shorts and underwear - exposing your pussy to his gaze.
God, fucking god, he will be damned and not to be memorized would be a sin. It isn’t wet as he expected it to be, but still, the strings of slick cling to your folds and lips, glistening like a silent spell lures him to finally fuck you. To bury his cock inside you. He adjusts his position, his cock is twitching and so close to your slick warmth.
With his hand, he guides his cock to part your pussy lips, grinding against the heat of your cunt. Its tip against your slicked folds, bumping against your clit, and watching your body flick with weak moans. The friction makes you gush even more with slick. His precum mixes with your arousal, it spreads easily on his veiny and hard cock. Would work perfectly as a lube. His free hand grips your hip tightly, angling it to finally guide his cock into your neglected hole.
His tip slowly disappears inside your slick folds, hitting his body with a rush of addicting pleasure - your walls stretch around his cock slowly, gripping every prominent vein and adjusting to the slight curve of his cock. Warm heat envelops him almost in a vice-like hold, forcing a low groan out of his throat. Your hips buck into him, sinking his cock deeper into you with a weak moan escaping - even in a badly lightened room his eyes can catch on the changes in your expressions; slightly tensed eyebrows, tongue flicks out for a moment and your fingers grip the fabric of the mattress. Your pussy engulfs him in so addictingly warm, your walls clench ridiculously tight around his cock.
The room feels with his heavy breathing, nibbling on his lower lip, and for a moment, Leon was not sure he would have been able to last long enough for him. Your pussy makes him dizzy, so much that he needed to take a pause, pulling his cock out - not entirely, leaving his tip inside you.
It is addicting to watch your hole stretching around his tip, a sight that will make him even drunker than he is right now. Popping it in and out, over and over until all he can hear are wet and filthy noises - and your moans mixed with his heavy breathing, as more slick gushes - another push, his cock sinks into you deeper and so easily. Wet teasing moment didn’t last long, already drowning in the selfish urge to fuck you. And cum. Inside you, probably. His cock twitches inside you at the thought. Maybe he will.
Slowly starting to roll his hips back and forth, which becomes deep and slow thrusts briefly. Easily losing himself in your body, his hand reaches to knead your breast, as his cock hits its tip against your cervix. His hips rock into you in quick thrusts, heavily breathing and not being able to look away from your face, every little pout or more prominent lines in between your brows, weak and breathless moans as he is fucking you - and you aren’t even aware. God, the images of you waking up and begging to stop fill his mind in a suffocating manner - that’s why he didn’t even try to drug you. Risk is too much fun to deny. His cock throbs inside you, another slam of hips. A hard gulp. A pinch on your nipple before his hand creeps up to rest on your neck before it returns to your hip.
Your skin is too perfect for him, the best silk, he’d die to have you under his hands forever.
The smell of whiskey. Cheap almost, acidic, and lures you out of your sleep. There is something else, the bed doesn’t feel firm anymore. Like sleep paralysis, an oppressive weight sits heavy on your chest and with you. Just this time, you can move and open your eyes, grogginess weighed on them before seeing your dad above you.
Like a punch in your solar plexus. Hard to breathe, too weak to do something other than try to worm out pathetically.
“G-get fucking off—!”
“I am getting off, don’t worry” Leon grunts above you, almost laughing - the dimly lightened room hides a condescending smirk on his face. Your fingers dig into his biceps, your nail will leave half-moon marks on his skin - he’d jerk off by watching them in the mirror, a good reminder of your pussy.
You won’t worm out, even a light grip on your hip is enough to hold you down.
His cock is buried deep inside you, filling your pussy to the point it feels like you lack the air. His hips meet flat against your ass after every thrust.
“Are you going to be good?“ Leon presses harder, his cock hits your G-spot, and your back arches into his hips. He wants to hear you call him daddy, really-really. You never called him dad either, which isn’t bad cause he’d probably get a boner anyway.
“Call me right, for once?” his hand squeezes your cheeks briefly to watch your lips purse out. “and not by my name”
“Asshole”
“Noo, sweetheart, that’s not it.” Leon clicks with his tongue, a slap lands on your cheek and it burns. So fucking bad. “Don’t act smart while you are just dumb bitch”
Your mind gets blank as his thrusts hit the spongy spot inside you. Your nails dig into his skin harder, this time not fighting - to grip yourself harder on him. Being gentle, maybe you should, to give what he wants.
“Fuck…” You can feel every vein on his cock, dragging inside you “Da-…daddy”
God knows he was about to cum after you called him daddy. Not sure how he didn’t fill your pussy with his load, there should be some kind of reward for that. Keeping the pace quick and his balls start to tighten in no time. He can’t keep this going forever.
“Are you going to take it? Like a good girl,” He grunts, his head falls on the crook of your neck, his lips so close to the skin - you can feel how heavy his breathing is. “Make daddy proud..”
And something isn’t right. Oh fuck. Surely he used a condom, right? Fuck, no. His hips rut against you roughly slowly becoming messier, your back arches in a perfect curve into him like you are asking for this.
“You can’t cum inside” It hits you harder, but the next protest is just choked panic. “—…no, fuck, no, no”
“Forgot you to ask” Another slap and you can only pray bruises won’t appear on your skin in the morning. Eye contact returns. “Beg”
You don’t really have the choice to protest, right? You can’t see in the dark the lamp or something else to hit him. Nor do you have the mental capacity to focus on something else than his cock rutting into you in a such right, but the wrong, filthy way. Your body loves this, gushing on his cock like a dumb whore - you? You hate this, at least that’s something you tell yourself.
“Please, Leo—…”You pause, almost let it slip. Oops, quickly fix this up! No matter how much you hate the name. “…daddy, please, not inside”
Leon hums hoarsely. You can see how he enjoys this, containing in the loud groan that wants to come out. Weird to see how much he is into this daddy thing. The hand he slapped you comes lower, fingers brush at your clit before finally applying pressure on it. Quick circle motion with the pads his fingers, rubbing the sensitive nub, and your body adores this, bucking into his fingers even harder - and deepening the penetration.
You were nice enough and he’d die to see your expression as you cum on his cock.
His pace quickens and his fingers try to keep up too before they slowly retreat to grip your face - eye contact is the way. He isn’t going to lose the opportunity. Your body dips heavier into the mattress as it becomes more ruthless and messier than before. All he can hear right now is the flesh-hitting sounds mixing with wet ones too. And your shameful moans coming from your lips. Your tits bounce with every particularly hard thrust while your pussy tightens in a silent plea to fill it, not only with his cock, but cum too.
His hips stutter in their pace for the last time, before shooting a hot load of cum inside you. You can’t help but feel used, disappointed at that. Didn’t hold his silent promise, if there was any after all. He buries deep inside, the warm cum fills your pussy almost to the brim, and his mind is blank - you can see how focused he is; his lips form a thin line, his eyes don’t look at you anymore and his brows frown as his cock pumped rope after rope inside you. Yours hits hard too, crushing to the point your body is exhausted. A tingling sensation rushes to end up in your fingertips, his skin is probably scratched and your lower stomach feels full of him - his cum, weird. You hope alcohol has been killing not only his brain but also his sperm.
When he is all spent, his body presses heavier against you - laying on you, not even pulling out his slowly softened cock. Now trying to steady his breathing. There was a weird expectation Leon’d leave you alone after orgasm, but he is still here. You want to push him off of your frame, to hit him and force him to get out of here - unfortunately, exhaustion veils the anger much easier, and your limbs grow heavier. Maybe it is lack of sleep, the grogginess that returns as your high slowly fades away and his warm body on you has a similar effect to a weighted blanket.
“Your dad is a man with a hard life, be gentle.” echoes in your mind again.
To be gentle is a gift one should earn or whatever. Not everyone was born with that. You thought you lacked that too, like a black hole the same Leon created unwillingly or unawarely in your life. Maybe not only you, the excuses for his absence swirl in your mind like a plague - Leon didn’t know better, maybe he didn’t have a good father figure either, - how could he know what to do at a young age? You wouldn’t have known either. Maybe you’d ignore your child for two decades too.
Tonight, ignorance is bliss and there should be only a weak embrace. Your arms wrap around his shoulders instead of pushing him off of you - you let him to fall asleep this once as an act of kindness you have promised your mom.