I Changed The Design A Little Bit And I Decided To Give My Oc A Twin Sister

I changed the design a little bit and I decided to give my oc a twin sister

No 💀

this is prolly the only fem! reader i’m ever writing with batfam in this blog. enjoy.

(implicit) yandere batfam x dommy mommy! reader

— in which these men realize you were far more than just an assistant

Galas were fun at times. But when forced to attend such repetitive events in addition to their vigilante work — well it was safe to say, it was not boding well for their sanity.

You worked as a general assistant for the BatFamily. As Alfred’s daughter, you endeavored to ease your father and his employers’s lives. You were a sweetheart. An absolute angel. The loveliest lady to ever exist.

Until you were pushed past the brink of your limits, stress wise, of course.

The whole Jason coming back from the dead and Bruce being dead took a massive blow to your sleep schedule. The boys took it as an opportunity to blur the lines between work and personal life. Slowly inserting themselves into your day to day outside of what you tirelessly scheduled for them.

So when a villain managed to break into the Batcave while you were there all on your lonesome (took a while for you to schedule every single one of them so that they’d be too busy to bother you), you didn’t take it all too kindly.

By the time the boys got back home, they were only privy to the following things

(1) You were a lot stronger than what you appeared to be. If the footage of you absolutely decimating the man wasn’t already a sure sign there was also the fact that you managed to somehow replicate a lot of the moves the boys would learn during training. Must have been something Alfred drilled into you as extra measure.

(2) You were a lot more menacing and sadistic when stressed.

The intruder looked at you with pleading eyes. His face black and blue. Could you blame yourself? You only had one night of peace and this man ruined it.

You sighed. He seemed to be incapacitated enough. Pulling out the chair to the iconic Batcomputer, you took a seat and pondered.

Bruce gave you access to all the alcohol you would need to ease the stresses of life. Might as well you shrugged.

You slowly took off the stockings Dick gifted you a while back. It was a prototype of his merch he said. You knew it was just because he really wanted to see you in fishnets. Then, you used the tip of your toe to raise the intruder’s head to face you.

You paused for a moment, remembering how Tim would often look through the cameras old footage on his free time. His overworking and stalking habits are really be something you work on.

The thought of him seeing the way you act momentarily froze you.

But the alcohol in your system begged to differ.

“Make it up to me, and I’ll let you go.”

Eh, you’ll deal with Tim and Damian scolding you for your unhealthy habits later. And your dad’s sermons on professional behavior.

And whatever mess Jason makes you clean up for the night too.

The boys watched the footage with bated breath and tighter pants at your actions. This was a side they’ve never expected from you.

You poured a drink of your choice down your thighs and legs. The liquid slowly dripped down the skin of your calves and ankles before it reached the tip of your toe.

“What kind of an assistant would I be if I didn’t give a guest a drink?”

And (3)

They would kill to be that man.

I made him look weird

every time I read x reader “they look so beautiful “

Me:

Wtf 💀💀💀💀💀

YOU JUST CAN’T TELL !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. pornstar!leon, corny ugh, smut, daddy-daughter incest, mentions of rough sex, barebacking waheyyy, corny corny corny, anticlimactic

note. HAPPY BELATED FATHERS DAY TO LEON KENNEDY WORST AND BEST DAD EVER!!! title from my michelle purely for the opening line LMFAO I hate this.. but I wanted it gone from my mind so I can move onnnn um rbs and nice words appreciated 💪

all I’m saying is idgaf if u think leon is pure American 1998 leon is Irish-Italian and he’s tan in di trust me anyway I really don’t like this so please refrain from any criticism I usually don’t mind it but um 😳 I’m too insecure ab this fic bc it’s corny and ignore mistakes :3 thank u to anon who paid me to finish this :3 um again readers personality changes so fast pls ignore all the corny stuff n inconsistencies kind of reads like my aita fic 😓

The basement is where you and Rose end up after dressing up all pretty for a night on the town. Only the dank walls and the scuttling critters are able to see how cute your getup is. Another outfit wasted ‘cause your dad is more than wasted in the lounge.

“Your dad is, like, a dick.” Rose plops down on one of the two blue bean bags you have to decorate this infinitely grey and murky room. An old television you’ve never bothered to work sits atop a pile of books you’re sure dad has never read.

“He’s not a dick, he’s being sensible,” you tell her, kicking off your heels in a heap near the basement stairs.

“He’s a drunk, ugh.” She kicks her feet in the air. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“He’s not a drunk.”

“An alcoholic then.”

“Okay, well, not everyone can be like your dad, Rose.” Your dad is a present deadbeat if those exist. He’s laid-back, sleazy and lazy—An asshole essentially, and when he’s not an asshole, he’s a cunt.

You’re being quite harsh on him nothing your dad does is intentional—Leon’s kept you alive over these past years, he’s not shy when it comes to affection and I love yous, but by god can that man drink.

You knew him as a baby, but babies don’t really know anyone unless they’re eye level with the breasts they suckle from. Then they know that’s mommy.

Like, you never had to spend more than a few days with him up until about three years ago. Mom moved on with her boyfriend, which meant that you were no longer a part of her story. Which you understand. Mom was great. Until the kids at school pointed it out, you never thought about how your dad was never around, she didn’t need to fill shoes that hadn’t been there in the first place. You didn’t need a dad. Never have, and you thought you never would.

As a child, Christmas, birthdays and the odd vacation were the only times you saw Dad. He was alright. Nothing to write home about. Put you on his shoulders when you asked, he tucked you into bed when he remembered and once he let you take a sip of whiskey when mom turned her head.

When Leon got drunk, that was another story. He got touchy-feely with mom and he pinched your cheeks too hard and got sappy about the life he could’ve had. Then you would hear him grovelling at her feet in the other room.

Baby, baby, please. You know it didn’t mean anything. She was a co-worker, you know what I do—It never means anything, why can’t you understand that?

And anytime he did that, mom would pack your bags that night and leave the following morning with you in tow.

Your aunt Sherry, she’s always been the apple of Leon’s eye. Now that she’s grown up, has been for ages, out in the big bad world, married, you think dad lets you stay with him as a sort of placeholder.

“Well, duh.” Rose beams at the slightest mention of her dad, and you wish you could do the same.

Your dad brings to mind the clammy awkwardness of a first date. Does that even make sense? Something about him has always just been off. Like, like, the colour of the walls. Cream. Not white. He’s accidental anal as a human being, y’know, those stupid Oopsy! My dick slipped into the wrong hole, but I’m going to keep going! videos. Yeah, that’s what your dad is. There’s no other way to put it.

“Bad haircut too, makes him look like a lady,” Rose says, staring and frowning at the TV so hard she might make it move. “Y’know, like those moms who show up to, like, everything and ruin everything.”

“Your dad is balding, Rose.” You point out, picking at your skin because it’s quite literally the most interesting activity there is to do.

“At least my dad drives us places.”

“You’re eighteen, you should’ve learnt how to drive years ago.”

“You’re nineteen, you should’ve learnt aeons ago.”

You face away from one another.

Your dress feels too tight all of a sudden.

“I’m sorryyy, Rose.”

She kisses her teeth, then shrugs. “It’s whatever.”

“Let’s just… I don’t know…” You look around at the smoke cloud that has dispersed into four walls, at the gunmetal floors that leave your feet sticky, at that silver screen. “Put on a movie.”

“Does it even work?” Rose gets up to kick the piece of junk, it rattles and she picks up the remote, clicking any and all of the buttons.

“Wait, wait, I think we have to, like, put something in it.” You crawl towards one of the many unmarked boxes that are laden thick with dust, really brings the colour scheme in this place together. Makes the endless grey pop. There’s no luck with the first few, they’re full of old clothes and pots and pans and things you couldn’t care less about.

Then you hit the jackpot. Enough tapes to re-open a Blockbuster.

Rose crouches down beside you. “There’s tons, holy shit.”

“I know… I know, I just feel guilty touching dad’s things.”

“Who gives a fuck?” She takes the tape marked Racoon City in black marker out, then she feeds it into the VHS player. “He won’t notice.”

The TV crackles, grey like everything else, and then it comes to life in dingy blues and grey greens. A red title card pops up.

RESIDENT EVIL : RACCOON CITY

NIGHT OF THE FUCKING DEAD

Rose drags her bean bag closer to the screen, and you follow. “What is this, like, some old zombie movie?”

“What do you fucking think—Hey, that’s my dad!” You point a finger at the TV when he shows up twenty years younger, copper hair hanging limply around his face as the rain pours.

“Oh, ew.” She grimaces. “He was even uglier back then.”

“I think he looks sweet.” All long legs and the sort of face that makes you wonder whether it’s high-fashion or a severe case of anorexia. His cheekbones gleam in the red-blue lights—something about cops is so American, even the lights are the colour of the flag—taking cautious steps towards a dark alley with a hand on his holster, ready to take out his gun when needed.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna die,” Rose groans, wiping a hand across her face, “what a moron.”

In the dark, as Leon’s back bumps the brick wall, a figure emerges from the dark in typical George Romero zombie fashion, staggering towards your dad and making all sorts of ghoulish noises.

“Hey! Stay back, put your hands in the air where I can see them!” The audio is tinny, but that’s dad alright.

“He’s an idiot, like, actually.” Rose’s commentary keeps you from immersing fully.

“Why is she dressed like that?” You ask when the zombie comes into view, her face is made up in perfect splotches of green and grey and purple, false lashes so thick you bet she can’t see a thing. Type of lashes you wear before you get a facial.

A trail of a sticky white liquid drips down the corner of her mouth. You assume it’s spit. Rabies gone wild. Her denim shorts are cut above the crease of her ass cheeks, splattered in more sticky fluid, and her tank is torn across her perky tits in a very deliberate manner, enough to bare the fat, but hiding the areolas.

“Nineties, man.” Rose shrugs.

“Ma’am!” Your dad says, his tone urgent, “Please stay where you are or I’ll have to shoot!”

The zombie just goes ughhhhhhh and guhhhhh as she slow-walks right into his chest, then she says, “Diiiick.”

And you make the same face your dad does on screen.

Before you can stop the meteoroid from blowing your world into a million tiny pieces, she drops down on her knees in a zombified manner and tugs down his pants, his fat cock knocking her cheek and his heavy balls weighing the whole shaft down.

“No fucking way!” Rose leans forward in her seat beside you.

You grab her arm and gasp, “Turn it off—Turn it off—Rose, turn it off! Oh my god, how do you pause this fucking thing?”

Cursive font pops up beside his face, head tipped back as he gets his dick eaten by this zombie bimbo.

LEON S. KENNEDY, ITALIAN STALLION.

Rose laughs. Her night is going great, all fine and dandy, she doesn’t have to watch her dad’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “Your dad's Italian?”

“Shit, Rose, I don’t fucking know.” The panic in your belly settles when you find a stop button. “Oh my god, just, just go home!”

“You’re seriously mad at me?” Rose crosses her arms and refuses to budge an inch, in fact, she makes herself comfy. “It’s not my fault your dad is a pornstar.” No, but it is her fault you found out your father is a pornstar with a very extensive resume.

“Shut up! Shut up.” You cover her mouth with your palm. “He might hear you, shut up, okay?”

“Okay, okay, calm down.” She brushes you off like this is not the worst thing that could possibly ever happen to you, like, ever. Worse than a broken nail, worse than snagging your tights and worse than being murdered and never found. Rose is so insensitive and uncaring sometimes, most things come as an afterthought to her. “Let’s watch the rest.”

“Are you fucking—Rose, are you fucking with me?” Disgust coils in your stomach like a fat python, sluggish with its latest meal.

“No? I think it’ll be fun,” she says, dead serious, “we can skip all the, like, actual porn.”

“The whole thing is actual porn, Rose.”

“C’monnn, we can sleep at mine next week, get dad to take us wherever we want.”

You don’t know how she ropes you into these things. How she gets underneath your skin like an invisible mite of some sort. How she sits your ass down and forces you to watch your dad make his way through a horde of dick-crazed zombie girls.

(At this point, you could probably opt out, but you’re in too deep.)

A single shot rings out, and in all her glory, red shorts so tight it gives her a camel toe, Auntie Claire comes to save the day and you feel lightheaded.

“No—No, no I can’t do this, turn it off, Rose…” You cover your face, and then proceed to watch through the gaps in your fingers as they make cheesy conversation in flirty voices—Oh, Aunt Claire, you don’t deserve any of this.

Your dad fucks her against the wall, she braces her hands on the crumbling brick and tries to look like she’s enjoying it, but you can tell she’s not feeling it. Well. She’s probably feeling his cock, but you doubt she’s liking it.

“I thought she was a lesbian.”

“She is!” Your bottom lip trembles. “This is so sick, Rose, I can’t watch it anymore.”

They traverse the halls of a seemingly abandoned police station on screen then proceed to suck and fuck in almost every room. They continue, something about a D-virus and a G-spot virus and there’s an immaculately dressed woman who steps out of the shadows a good hour into the film.

Yeah, you have been sitting here watching your father eat pussy and push his dick into whatever rotting zombie ass sticks itself in the air for an entire hour. You’re not proud of it.

She slots into the trite plot as a femme fatale, in her bodycon dress and click-clacky heels. According to the on-screen text, this is a lady named Ada Wong, she's too pretty to be doing this. To be saying this.

How big is that gun, officer? Oh, I think you should body search me, officer—Really, you should do a cavity check. You must have no idea what I'm hiding, right? Those handcuffs should be put to use, no? After all, you can’t trust me, officer.

“I can’t watch it anymore, Rose,” you tell her again, “I’m serious, I feel fucking sick.” It’s too much, watching Leon lay back as she sits on his dick, he groans when she manages to take all of it. The camera is focused on her ass. How it ripples when it smacks against his thighs, how it looks when he reaches around to grab at it, jiggling the fat like a fucking pervert.

Leon turns her over, her tits hanging so low her nipples brush the ground and tells Ada he’s arresting her. Pushes his dick into her ass. Just like that. He pulls her hair and she lets him. Though, something in her eyes tells you that she’s not one to take it like a dog, that this is purely for male convenience.

You turn it off, and you dry heave for a minute flat.

“We didn’t get to see the ending!” Rose shoves you in the shoulder, and her investment in this shitty porno is so genuine it brings you to tears. Because what the fuck is wrong with her? What if that was her dad—Well, no, anyone would be mortified at that. Nobody wants to see Mr. Winters with his dick out.

“Fuck you, Rose, you can watch that shit at home if you want it that bad.”

You usher her up the stairs and push her out the door, throwing her duffel bag out too. Then you shut it in her face, graced with a moue, left to ponder in the echoing space of her confusion.

Dad is snoring on the couch, you tuck him under a blanket and clear the beer cans on the coffee table into a trash bag. You leave for your bedroom, then something awful gnaws at your insides, you squeeze your fists so tight they feel like they’re no longer there.

You head back into the basement, you bust out the rest of those tapes and you watch them like a girl possessed. Maybe it’s some attempt to get closer to him. Maybe Freud was right. Maybe it’s the inherently grotesque nature of the human mind that encourages you to watch Operation Javier where your dad gets split open by some big ol’ military man twice the size of him.

He gets put on his front, arches like a cat and digs his nails into the dirt as Krauser pushes into him. Then it’s on his back, legs dangling helplessly over broad shoulders and then Leon is lifted into the air like a ragdoll and you think he sobs. His form is beautiful, no notes.

Dad looks cuter in that one like he’s grown into his face and his body has started to fill out. His dick bobs uselessly as his clothes are folded while he’s still in them. Christ, by the end of it he’s coughing up cum and you think a little comes out his nose. Krauser holds him up in the air and Leon brings his hands down to spread his cheeks to show off his puffy hole, dripping another thick load. When he’s told to push out, you think he might prolapse.

You wonder why you didn’t get that ass of his.

“Oh… Auntie Ashley, no…” You always thought she had pornstar tits, but you had enough tact to keep it to yourself. She lets him fuck her tits, ballistics you think he called them, then he pulls her hair so hard she cries, uses it to drag her around, knees marked by the dirty ground, forces her mouth down on his dick.

It’s the best Leon has ever looked, you think it’s a shame that dad looks the way he does now. You thought he was meant to be saving Ashley, so why is he fucking her half to death? There’s a Spanish man who looks like he’s off the front cover of a bodice ripper, the military man is back and so is Ada.

You learn a lot about sex positions that shouldn’t exist from this one. You learn a lot about threesomes and foursomes and fivesomes. Long story short, Auntie Ashley gets a train ran on her and takes it like a champ.

“Oh, gosh, Leon… Wow…” Ashley twirls her hair as she watches Leon take the entirety of Krauser’s cock in his mouth. Actual fucking behemoth. Then they both suck on it together, they play with his balls and make out with his shaft. Leon helps Ashley sit on it and she moans so loud you scramble to turn the volume down.

At the banal end, they ride off into the sunset, but of course—It can't be over yet. Ashley offers overtime, and Leon accepts, then he twists her like a pretzel and puts her in reverse pile driver, his balls slap against her clit and your Aunt’s voice grates on you as she squirts around his dick for what could be the tenth or fiftieth time. She could die from dehydration, the poor thing. You think her pussy is really cute, but you’ll take that thought to the grave.

You watch the one named Damnation, where your dad looks at Ada like a boy who hasn’t quite gotten over his first love. He fucks a Russian man hard and the Russian man fucks him back harder. Body shots ensue. There’s another feature-length one with a lady named Helena who's tits sit pretty. Dad looks rough in Vendetta - it isn’t memorable. Domme Island is alright. Shit name, hot lady who fucks him into next week, his eyes roll so far back into his skull you think there’s a clunk. She locks her legs around his neck and forces his nose so deep into her cunt he’ll be wearing her pussy as perfume for weeks.

Now it all starts to make sense, it clicks into place like a seatbelt. Your dad is a washed-up pornstar. Of course he is. Oh, you understand everything now.

You don’t know what to make of this. Don’t know what to say or feel or do. Each time you descend the steps and submerge into the grey, you’re consumed by another round of mind-numbing porn. You put it down to morbid fascination. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all there is to it.

The ache between your thighs is only natural, that’s what happens when you watch porn for hours on end, some part of it is bound to turn you on.

Dad’s porn career was ten years too long, a quick Google search tells you he only retired three years ago, around about the same time your visit turned into a roommate situation.

Some of his most recent videos are plain, to say the least, gone are the cop uniforms that were store-bought Halloween costumes, the action movie sets are swapped out for suave hotel rooms and houses you see on real estate websites. Like they’ve been furnished purely to provide surfaces to fuck on.

Before you can help it, before your brain is able to put a stop to your constant stream of bad decisions, before you’re even able to process the tags, you click on it.

The intro is a shitty logo flashing across the screen and then a split screen of multiple women being fucked in painful positions, cunts gaping, mouths hanging open and dicks big and hard enough to break through concrete.

It fades, and your dad appears on screen grabbing a pretty little thing that couldn’t be a day over twenty-one by her curly pigtails, sporting tits bigger than her head and a shaved pink pussy. He says something ‘bout how her pussy gets wet the second she sees a grey hair, spreads her legs for any old man, oh it doesn’t matter what he looks like as long as he’s been put through the wringer. The cock carousel.

(She’s just like you.)

Naturally, she sticks her ass out and says Yes, daddy! in an awful papery voice. When she moves to kiss Leon, you notice his sickening choice of facial hair. Who in the fuck told him that was okay? The moustache is more disturbing than any of this. Jesus Christ, it’s more jarring than seeing his dick.

You won’t take a dick a day under forty—What would your old man think, huh? Can’t even say that word around you can I? Hm? Haven’t even put it in yet and you’re goin’ stupid, baby.

Screw dad and screw this bitch with her stupid, fake, barely legal tits and her migrating lip filler and her veneers and her hairless legs and her grabbable little waist—

“Pumpkin, the Jehovahs came knockin’ again, that’s the second time this week, you didn’t take anything from them did you?” Dad, without his moustache, with his cock neatly tucked away in the depths of those sweats, opens your door.

Where does he put that shit? Up his ass?

While she’s busy shaking her stupid teen titties at dad on-screen, you slam the lid of your laptop shut and give him a plastic smile. “At least they knock, dad.”

“Don’t need to knock, my house,” Leon retorts, childish as ever, he’s changed for the worse ever since you forced him to take his meds regularly. You regret it - trying to whip him into shape. Maybe your daddy started drinking to deal with the weight of his own ego.

“My room,” you point out, when you shift you’re made aware of the wet between your thighs, panties sticking to your core.

“Okay, but you’re my kid.” He puts a leaflet on your side table and sits next to you. “I gotta check on you, what if you're kissing boys up here? Could take the door off its hinges if I wanted to.”

He has the face for porn, you note.

(And the dick for it.)

“I’m your kid now?” It’s hard to act like everything is fine when he’s beside you, a soft hand that has groped so many teen tits settling on your stomach, so you close your eyes and focus on the ripple of light in the dark of your eyelids.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dad takes his hand back, a small mercy.

“I’m your maid when your friends come over, and last time I checked I was your girlfriend when the landlord came over.” God, that’s so messed up. He’s so fucked up and your pussy is so wet. He hasn’t even done anything and that’s the problem. If Dad stepped up, if he tried to be a real dad, if he got out of porn young and he threw away those tapes, maybe you would have a shot at being mentally sound.

“She wouldn’t get off my back,” Leon argues, a vague scowl lining his lips, “had to do it.”

The landlord is an older lady with a severe face and a forward way of speaking. You’ve caught dad with a hand up her skirt, but he says she pushes it on him.

“You should be nice to her, might get to live here for free.”

“Doubt that, she’d take me and my money,” he muses, pressing his face into your neck. Dad is like a cat, he comes to you when you need it the least, he quietly begs for affection when you don’t have the time to give it.

“You need to shave,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch your stilted breath when he drags his scratchy cheek over your soft skin.

“Look awful when I shave,” Dad mumbles into your neck, “don’t it feel good?”

Why is that hot? Everything sounds good when your pussy is wet. “No, it tickles… Can you go now, please?”

“Why?” His eyes plead with you, and you pet his head to appease his neediness. “I’m spending time with my daughter.”

“Okay, and your daughter has had enough, dad.” He’s getting too close for comfort, and your cunt is too wet for comfort.

“When you were a baby,” Dad starts, and you have detached yourself from this narrative entirely, in your world dad came into your life now, so when he speaks of the early days you space out and think of his dick, “you used to cry for me all day, didn’t even want mom to hold you, now you don’t even want to touch me.”

He sounds like a neglected housewife that has spent all too many years prettying herself up for a dick that isn’t worth it.

“I’m not a baby anymore.” You’re not a baby, and you wish he would see that now. You want him to see what he’s done to you, that he’s fucked you over so bad you can only get off to the sight of his dick gaping a tiny hole.

“I know.”

You have tits now, and your ass is decently big and you’re taller and 1 in 5 men have liked the way you suck dick.

“But you’re daddy’s baby,” he coos, pinching your cheek lightly to spare you from any pain.

“Gross.” He hasn’t been daddy since you were five and hopeful, he shouldn’t be daddy unless he’s willing to take you to bed like he did with all those other girls. “It’s too hot, get off of me.”

“Aw, baby, do you want me to get a kiddie pool out back? You could splash around in there while daddy fixes the AC.”

“No, ew, dad, I want you to get off of me.” It comes off harsher than you intend, but when you spiral headfirst into a porn addiction and come out of it with a crush on your dad, it’s just a little troublesome. Knowing that your daddy gets around like a ceiling fan but wouldn’t spare a glance at you for legal reasons is crushing.

“You’re being mean, kid.” He kisses your sweaty forehead, a silent apology for making your knees weak and your pussy wet. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up, dad, it’s just hot and you’re on top of me.” On top of you in all the wrong ways. “And the AC doesn’t even work, maybe you could get to fixing that?”

“I dunno how,” Leon admits, “why don’t you find, uh, y’know the guys to do the job on your thingy.” He gestures towards your laptop, you’re lucky the sound of his dirty talk and slapping skin isn’t leaking out from the cracks.

“My thingy?” You giggle, “you can find someone yourself, I don’t know what to look for.”

He takes one end of your laptop in his hand, you wrestle it away from him. “Why ya being so touchy? You talkin’ to boys on there?”

“Why would I use my fucking laptop to talk to boys, dad?” Your fingers tremble and you hug it to your chest like a baby would a teddy bear.

“‘Cause you’re being weird ‘bout it, let me see what’s on there, and don’t swear at me, young lady.” Ugh. You hate when he tries to be a good dad. It’s sort of cheesy, and you’re too far gone to find an ounce of respect for him.

“No, dad, it’s mine, that’s not fair—I’m not a kid you can’t take it from me—“ But he’s stronger, not bigger, but definitely stronger, strong enough to pin you down. When he opens it up, you cry out when the screen brightens up. “No, oh my god, stop it!”

“Oh.”

“Oh my god,” you whimper, your trembling bottom lip does nothing to stop tears from falling. When you try to get up, dad grabs your wrist.

“C’mere, sit down.” He doesn’t sound outright mad, but in your panic, you fail to notice the amusement that comes with his words.

“Stop it, I don’t wanna do those, like, I don’t wanna have, like, a talk or whatever with you, just leave me alone.” You wipe your eyes with your free hand.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” Dad says, a gentle hand cupping your cheek as he pushes the laptop off of his lap and onto your mattress, “you always get so worked up over little things, just like your ma.”

It’s not a little thing, getting caught watching your dad’s porn films is not a little thing—This is like the biggest possible thing ever. Other than his dick.

“Dad, can you stop? Like, oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You think it might be the first time you’ve ever cried in front of him.

“C’mon, now, don’t cry about it, honey,” he coos, pulling you into his lap with a grunt, “nothing to cry about, if you needed daddy’s help all you had to do was ask.”

What a fucking liar. Leon has never helped you out a day in your life, but when it comes to sex, when it comes to fucking his own daughter, now he wants to help?

“C’mere, baby, you want me to do that with you?” He nods his head at the screen where his past self has that cute blonde brat bent in half. “Daddy can teach you.”

You do want that. It’s all you want. You just don’t want to give in because nothing about this is normal. And it’s not that anything has ever really been normal, but it would be nice to pretend that everything is fine.

“That’s so fucked up, dad,” you sniffle, but when he slips a hand between your thighs you don’t protest.

“No, it’s not,” Leon hums, he lifts your skirt until it’s a belt around your waist, “good daddies teach their little girls how to fuck, so I guess should step up ‘n be a good dad for once, huh?”

“I… I guess so…” The air is knocked from your lungs when he wastes no time getting to your slick cunt, sliding your soaked panties to the side and thumbing your little clit.

“Doesn’t matter what you think anyway.” Dad pushes his finger into your sloppy hole, your pussy clicks. “‘Cause this is daddy’s pussy and he’ll do what he wants with it.” He’s talking like he does in his videos. You clench around him so tight he struggles to push in a second finger.

“I didn’t… I didn’t like it,” you whimper as he scissors you open, pussy dripping slick down your thighs, the floodgates have opened.

“Didn’t like what?” Dad kisses the sweat-slicked nape of your neck while he stretches you out, a third finger wriggling in beside his pointer and middle. He does it so clean, like—It’s dirty, but he’s so smooth, and it’s ‘cause he’s done this a million times before. To girls with tighter pussies and perkier tits and prettier faces.

“Like—Watchin’ it.” You try to stop the tremble in your voice, but he’s playing with your clit, pushing back the hood and pressing down on it hard like it’s a fucking buzzer. “I don’t like it… ‘Cause you weren’t with me.”

“What do you mean, baby?” Daddy asks, trying to make sense of your pout, his fingers come to a halt when you go rigid against his body, your spine digging into his front when you cum.

“It’s not fair, you were with other little girls ‘n not me, dad—“ You shudder, clit thrumming as your orgasm washes over you, it feels both warm and like you were doused in a bucket of ice water.

“Oh, baby,” Leon squeezes your tit with the hand that isn’t playing with your cunt— Like that’ll make you feel better about this deep-rooted self-hatred and whatever else a lack of a father figure has given you, “but you have dad now.”

And it’s not enough. You wanted him then. No matter how much you deny it, no matter how much you say mom was enough, you wanted a dad so fucking bad. But this’ll have to be enough. It’ll do.

“I’m all yours now, you don’t have to share me with anyone, okay?” He kisses your lips when you tilt your head up to look at him, and you melt into him.

“Okay.” You nod, the faint taste of whiskey lingers in your mouth when he pulls away.

Dad lays you down and you let him. It feels like he’s fucking you into bed, when he kisses your thigh you know he doesn’t see you like he used to. You’re not really a daughter to him, but he is obligated to take care of you in any way he sees fit, and if clogging up your leaky pussy with his dick is what daddy thinks is right, you’ll let him do that.

You were dreaming about it last night so you don’t know what’s changed.

“Can’t believe you found it,” Leon says to himself, he’s shaking his head as he lowers his sweats.

“Was really easy, dad, ‘s not hard to find.” You shift and spread your legs, his head rests on your thigh.

“Did you go lookin’ for it?” He squeezes your pussy lips together, licking your clit when it pokes out between them.

“No…” Your answer is partly true. ‘Cause you did come across those old tapes by mistake, and you really were horrified at first, but you did type your dad’s name into the search bar with the word daddy after it.

He raises his brows but doesn’t question you sooner ‘cause, in his words, your pussy’s too pretty to be thinkin’ of anything else.

Dad eats you out and your legs shake. You can’t even talk about it, fuck, you don’t even remember it, all you know is that it felt fucking good. And it hit you hard. Your makeup is dripping, you look like you got passed around at a frat party, and he hasn’t even put his dick in you yet.

You grope at his dick through his boxers like you’ve seen all girls in porn do, and then you swallow hard. ‘Cause it’s big and you’re not sure you can make it through sucking his dick without a couple of bumps in the road.

“Don’t have to do that, just wanna put my dick inside you,” he mumbles when you nose at his cock, suckling on the wet patch that leaks through his boxers.

“I need daddy inside me too,” you whine pitifully, and he coos, sitting you on his tummy, pussy so wet it gets the taut skin of his abdomen all shiny.

“You need it or you want it, baby?” He laughs softly, and a gentle hand comes to rub circles into your hip.

“I need it, dad,” you whine again, not knowing what to do with your hands so you place them on his chest. You really do need it. It’s a life-or-death situation.

“Okay, baby, sit on it, c’mon, I know you can do it,” Dad urges, the most he does to help you out is take the shaft of his cock in his hand, guiding it into your tight hole, but you have to do the rest.

Your body seizes as you slide down on his fat cock, your insides are shaped like him by the time he bottoms out. He’s wearing you. Using your cervix as a cock ring.

“Is it that good, baby?” Dad pets your head as your mouth is agape, his feet are planted flat on the bed and he ever so gently thrusts upwards, the tip of his cock jabbing your cervix in a way you’ve never felt before. It hurts so good and you want him to do it again. “Do you need dad’s help, pumpkin?”

Your legs tremble and your toes curl, you admit defeat with a single nod of your head. So daddy grabs your hips and batters your cervix as he bounces you on his cock like a doll. Like a pornstar.

“There we go, you’re a natural, baby, just like your daddy,” he tells you as you collapse into his chest, your face in his neck as you cry for him, for his fat fucking cock. Jesus Christ. Your dad is seriously rawing your pussy right now, you didn't even think of a condom—He hits that stop deep inside of you, and his fingers find your clit and you’re a goner.

There are no thoughts to think up when dad’s inside of you. Your brain is blank and all you can do is call out for daddy, you want him to hold you so he does, you beg him to kiss you and he does, he kisses you so hard it hurts, teeth clacking and your spit dribbling into his mouth.

Dad doesn’t cum inside of you though, and you have to admit you're disappointed. You wanted him to warm your belly and your heart. He holds you against his chest as you sniffle, and then he asks if you want to be a star just like dad.

“You really are a natural, baby, I wasn’t kidding.” Leon rocks you from side to side. “What’d you think, hm? Want to help dad out with his comeback? Nobody has to know.”

It’ll be too hard to notice. How your nose is the same as his from the side, how you both have dimples in the same places, that your top lip is thinner than your bottom lip just like dad’s. Things like that, they’ll slip under the radar, so you accept. ‘Cause you’d do a damn good job at being his on-screen daughter.