I Need His Big Soft Belly Pinning Me Down As He Slams My Face Into The Floor Over And Over Again - Tumblr Posts

uhh dad strade x fem reader drabble or short fic? make it as gross as you want. hope you’re having a good day :)

PAPA

{ dad! strade x adult daughter! reader }

word count: 880

warnings/tags: INCEST, age gap (18+ reader), molestation, alcohol use, descriptions of blood, violence, oral mutilation, and decapitation, poorly translated german lol

You live blissfully unaware of the horrors lurking just beneath the surface of your father's life, drawn instead to his charm and rough affection. Even as an adult, you seek comfort in his embrace, climbing onto his lap where you feel the familiar outline of his knife sheath against your back. The weight of his large, calloused hand rests reassuringly on your hip, and in these moments, you feel only safety and love. Unbeknownst to you, the same hand that holds you close could, with chilling ease, end your life.

Consumed with lustful thoughts, your father gazes down at your body, imagining all the ways he could destroy it. His rough fingertips reach to trace the curve of your stomach through your shirt, his breath hot against your neck. He imagines pulling out every one of your teeth, tasting your blood as it drips down your chin, and licking away your salty tears as you cry out in agony. He wants to hear you scream and feel you struggle as he stifles your sounds with his cock, shoving it deep into your gummy, bloody mouth.

But above all else, he wants to take your head. He helped bring you into this world, after all, and he insisted on being the architect of your departure. In his darkest fantasies, he envisions the satisfying thud of your head as it strikes the basement floor, followed by the crimson tide of your blood, warmly spilling, seeping into the rough, porous concrete beneath.

Fuelled by alcohol, his hand squeezes your flesh roughly, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you.

"You are so beautiful, Mein Schatz," he murmurs, "Just like your mother…" His fingers press roughly into your flesh, causing you to wince as sharp waves of pain ripple through you. You try to wriggle away but his grip tightens, anchoring you in place.

"Oh, don't be like that," he breathes, his voice a soft, velvet purr that belied the sharpness in his eyes. "Don't you want to feel how much your old man loves you?". He asks, his hand sliding down between your legs. You try to protest, but your words are smothered by his free hand tightening over your mouth. He paws at your thinly-dressed crotch, seemingly deaf to your whines and enraptured by the warm sensation of your skin.

His fingers tremble slightly, the alcohol undermining the steadiness of his grip on your face. In his clouded mind, he thinks of a myriad of ways to end your life—each more lingering and excruciating than the last. Yet impatience whispers to him, suggesting he could end it all now, right here on this couch. The thought curls his lips into a sinister smile as he imagines the swift draw of his blade across your tender throat, releasing sanguineous rivulets that pour down your front and stain the fabric beneath.

He withdraws his hand, the touch lingering like a shadow as it slides from between your legs and back to your torso. "You know, I always thought about what it'd be like to have a daughter," he murmurs, his voice low and thick with a twisted mirth. "And I got one, didn't I?" His fingers crawl higher, skittering across your ribs before they hook around the edge of your bra. "You were such a pretty thing, so quiet and sweet. I'd just watch you for hours."

You shudder under his gaze, locked into his intense stare. His face shows pure love and adoration, yet hides something sinister beneath that bleeds through each touch. It’s as if he’s two people rolled into one and you can’t tell which is real.

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear, his words a whisper laced with menace. "But you grew up, didn’t you? You became a woman, and oh, how things changed." His eyes, predatory and cold, scan your face as he pauses. "I told myself I wanted to keep you safe, to shield you from the horrors of the world," he continues, pressing his fingers deeper, pinning you with a force that shatters his protective guise. "But the one you need saving from is me."

Your eyes widen with fear and confusion as you squirm against the heat of his embrace and the confinement of his arms. He watches you silently, curiously, pondering your thoughts and feelings. Yet instead of releasing you, he draws even closer, his breath unsettlingly warm against your face. "Mein süßes Mädchen," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face with deliberate slowness. "I've always wondered how you'd look splayed out on my workbench... I'm just dying to know what's inside that pretty little head of yours..."

Your heart flutters as he speaks again, his voice low and hypnotic. You try to reply, but the words snag in your throat. His eyes gleam with eagerness as he observes your panicked struggle.

Then, with a contrived snicker, he shakes his head. "Oh, you should see your face!" he exclaims, his fingers darting out to tickle you. "You’re so easy to scare!" His laughter rings out again, hollow and disconcerting. You try to laugh along, but it comes out as a strangled gasp, hanging in the air as your father's chuckles continue to echo around you.