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kid who wanders into the living room an hour after it was supposed to be asleep in bed, tears streaming down its face. dad, on the couch, pauses the nfl highlights he’s watching and asks his baby what’s wrong. between sniffles, kiddo confesses that it ate two of the brownies dad’s friends gave him last week because it wanted to try them even though they’re daddy’s and now it feels funny and floaty.
and before dad can smile calmly and explain that everything’s going to be okay but this is why it’s important to listen to dad, and that there are funny plants for adults, kiddo comes crawling into dad’s lap for comfort and as they straddle dad’s thighs and cuddle into his neck, he can feel that it’s soaked through its pajama shorts. he can fucking smell how wet his kid’s cunt is as it presses warm and slick against his cock.
as long as it stays still, he can handle this. here, he’ll rub a hand up and down its back while the hiccuping subsides and once its asleep, he’ll carry back to bed and then hide the brownies a little better. once it’s asleep, once it’s—
it grinds its hips downward, cunt slotting up the length of his cock, and he has to fight the urge to buck into it and chase the sparks of pleasure. instead, he placed his hands on its small hips and holds it still, making it whine in protest and confusion.
“daddy, please. please, i need, i—“
the poor thing is high out of its mind. he doesn’t want to frighten it, make it seem like its doing something wrong with big words about why daddies and kiddos can’t do this. it fights his grip and tries to grind down again, hand balling themselves in dad’s shirt while it pants wetly into his collar. the noises its making — desperate, shivering moans — go straight to his dick and he can feel himself hardening in his sweats.
it begs again. “please.”
his kid came to him for help. came scared and helpless and shutting this down and sending it back to bed would only confuse it more. if he helps, it’ll be faster, easier, safer. yeah, safer.
he lets his grip drop and kiddo slams its hips into his, moaning high and long.
“does that feel good?”
“yeah, in my tummy. it — it tingles.”
his head falls back with a groan and he enjoys the feeling as kiddo picks up the pace, little thighs trembling arhythmically as it chases down pleasure. it’ll never get off like this, in blind desperation, no understanding of persistence or where in its body the feeling is coming from, but luckily dad does.
he shifts, reaching a hand between their bodies. “here, daddy’s gonna help.”
maneuvering around its pjs and undies, he gently dips into the sopping mess of his kid’s cunt, spreading his thighs for better access as it jerks against him. the pad of his finger brushes its hard little clit and the whining noises it makes in response spurs him to keep pressing in tight circles.
“daddyyyy.” it’s wailing now, incapable of processing the feeling building in its belly and the roughness of dad’s finger in its kiddo parts.
he moves faster and it leaks down his hand and all over his lap, wet enough to make a squelching sound every time it grinds into him. it’s started crying again, needy and scared, but he’s not gonna stop until it cums, which’ll be any minute now.
there’s a change in its breathing from shaky gasps to shallow pants and he adds a finger next to the other one and circles hard. it squirts with a scream, thrashing in his lap as his coos at it, tells it to “take it, be a good kid and take what dad gives you.”
he rubs it through the most intense part, until the sobbing turns to sniffling into his chest, and he can feel its clit twitching and jumping under his fingers, swollen and more sensitive than ever. ready for more.
“did that feel good? is that how you wanted me to help you?”
kiddo nods, holding onto daddy as tight as it can.
“here,” he says, sitting his kid back so he can shimmy his boxers and sweats down, “dad wants to help you again.”