#Sasha Sokol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hibewriter · 6 months ago

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A Father's Love

Masterlist Read it on AO3

Shadow & Bone | Darklina | 3.2K | E

Tags: Underage | Noncon Voyuerism | Incest | Bondage | somophilia

They lived in underdeveloped suburbs that ran in between the capital city of Os Alta and Ryevost. A small cottage, nothing too fancy, that sat on secluded land, the mailman taking just five minutes to drive from the start of their driveway to the middle gate, where their mailbox was. To the back of the house, a small lake somehow connected to the Sokol River, though she'd never taken the small skipper to find the path to the river.

Why would she, when all she needed was right here?

Her father was a good man. When she turned fifteen, he continued to let their live-in nanny, Genya, assist with her studies. Rather than shipping her off to boarding school like her mother had wanted to. Her mother had wanted a lot from them. To be perfect . The shining crown of the General and the Princess. Esteemed guest of the crown always. Always prim and proper, hair perfect, words even more so.

But that wasn't what Alina was. That wasn't what daddy was. They were running through the woods behind the Little Palace, mud trailing expensive nightgowns that grew out of style in the 1800s. Yet Luda insisted it made her look like a princess. There'd be screaming matches when Alina would trapeze away at balls, whatever new Grisha child would entertain her leading her away through the halls to explore. To play.

So, Luda left when Alina was five, following her "heart" to a well-bred aristocrat with far better manners and no children to speak of. A role where Alina could peruse the city blog sites, watching her mother play the perfect princess she was born to be. Never a word of her ex-husband, the military General who'd secured Ravka's borders for years, maybe even centuries to come. No news of her daughter, discarded and left behind like furniture on the street.

Her father retired when she was seven. No longer General Kirigan. No longer demanded to take meetings day in and day out on the security and welfare of Ravkan citizens. He was just Papa. Her Sasha . So he brought their cottage, close to the city so she could see her friends, but away from all the expectations that Luda had for her. Not that she got to have them for her anymore.

The attacks started when she was eight. A brick through a window here; a burning pyre on their lawn, two lumps that looked suspiciously like the both of them in the center; a slashed tire and red paint across his car. They all led her Sasha to call the Palace, getting granted a security detail in his retirement. She likes Ivan and Freydor. Ivan is stern, but typically bends when she cries. Freydor always has a snack for her.

She doesn't like the new floodlights installed. She could call the sun to her at any moment but they needed artificial lighting? She saw how all the lights, no corners left for darkness, affected her Sasha. He slept later, blackout curtains from Amazon giving him plenty of time to stay in his shadows before she'd crawl into his room around noon, a lunch breakfast on a tray for him. They'd eat, and talk, and she could see some of his life back in him again.

So she knew when he'd pad his way into the shower, nearly one in the afternoon as she crept back to her room, free for the rest of the afternoon as her studies only lasted the morning. She knew no one would knock at the door, Ivan and Freydor patrolling the edges of their property with other Grisha during the day. No one knew about her secrets on the laptop. No one knew what she did this next hour.

So what, if she was twisted? In her defense, it started out as wanting to see him. All their mornings apart. Then, when she turned sixteen — listening to whispers of local girls the few times she went into town with Genya — she wondered why he never dated after her mother.

Which morphed into a curiosity, a desire to know. Was her father hideous under the black Kefkas he wore regardless of the year? She knew it wasn't his face. The whispers of women as they occasionally passed them on father-daughter date nights were enough to tell her that his face was attractive enough. (And if she agreed with those whispers she'd never tell.) So she had to know. And so she found out.

He didn't see her when he cleaned himself, slick raven hair falling behind him like silk as he relaxed. As he breathed. Some days she wished her system came with speakers, but it was already difficult enough buying these undetected. Even more difficult was slipping them into his room and making sure they worked. Cameras above his bed, above his showers, in his closet.

His body was not hideous. That was certain. She realized the first time she'd done it. So, she knew now that this — this daily activity, her fingers buried in her tiny cunt as she watched the screen of her laptop —it's wrong. When she watches him in the shower. She watches how he takes the 3-in-1 body wash that she hates, lathers his loofah and begins to touch his body. The hard planes of his back fade into the hardened muscle on his ass, skin littered with small freckles from too many hours in the sun. It was a sin; to watch her father this way. When he didn't know she could see him. He never saw her.

The cameras were invisible, and she was too. But she doesn't mind. Soon, she'll have him where she wants. And she won't have to watch from behind a screen as he grasps his cock, leaning against the wall as the spray of the shower runs down his back. No. Soon she'll finally hear what he gasps as he climaxes. She'll know what causes his face to contort in a way he never showed her before. And she won't be stuck with just her fingers.

Yes. Soon.

____

The plan started on her seventeenth birthday. She never asked for a party, relishing that Genya would gather friends she'd known from the Palace without her asking. People she'd known all her life; if she only did see them once a season. The cottage was never big enough for the party, so they'd go to the back, lounging on the large lakeside deck. Eating over a burning fire, even as their security detail remained at the edges of the party until Alina would offer Ivan some cake, and the gruff men would crack into smiles as they too joined the revelry.

She would dance, barefoot in her white dress, see her Sasha sipping on a beer as he watched her, carefree and listless. She knew the moment was close, as she twirled over to him, the music of a British singer singing of a love long lost.

Their first kiss, her lips landing on the corner of his mouth as her arms ensnared one of his. Dance with me Papa , a plea as she pulls him from his seat, pretending to ignore the darkened gaze in his eyes as the song switches to a more sultry tune. Gruff guitar notes twangy and hot in the background of a sordid love affair.

The linen of her dress flowed around them, the party fading behind them. All that mattered was her Sasha's hands on her waist, the fairy lights illuminating them. His laughter at her occasionally clumsy moves filled her heart. And when he held her, face in his chest as the song came to an end, his scent filled her senses, and she never wanted to leave.

He didn't know about their second kiss — the one after the party when he slept as she crept into his room. The steady rise and fall of his chest beckoned her like a tether she couldn't break if she wanted to. Her petite body barely shifted his bed as she crawled into it, pressing into him softly as she looked at his sleeping face. Lips touched, and a barrier was broken. I love you, daddy , whispered into the millimeters between them. Darkness fell over her as she slept. But in the morning she was still gone, their third kiss stolen from his lips.

When she finished her studies, Genya still stayed, more a head of house than a nanny, but a welcome presence all the same. She taught Alina to hem her dresses, to loosen or tighten a bodice, to let the fabric out. She was almost a mother, in some regard. At least, she cared more.

So Alina's hems would get shorter in the summer breeze, and her bodice would push the tiny breast she sported up. She didn't care if it wasn't modern or trampy like Zoya and the other girls from the Palace wore their tank tops and jean shorts. She liked them because she liked them. And if her Papa's gaze, one that should've held disapproval and disgruntlement, instead held desire and lust? Well all the more to wear them that way.

She loves summer. The long days are fading into glorious sunsets and she can convince her father to watch them with her. Climbing into his lap, cooing at how peaceful it is with just the two of them. How much she loves him, how she couldn't imagine ever leaving his side. Not to get married, not to have children. She just wanted her Sasha.

And he'd reply. As if it pained him, he'd reply. Oh Alya , one day you must. I'm just your father after all . And she saw it, the wrinkle of dissatisfaction. The way his grip would tighten on her waist as he pretended to watch the lake, its surface still as glass.

So she'd steal a kiss each night, one for each unsatisfactory word. Wishing he would take her in the way she wanted. If he knew what he could grasp in his hands if one day he just took it from her. Her heart was already bleeding before him, all he had to do was pick it up.

Tonight was no different, as she watched him shower a day off, his routine only slightly different from his afternoon shower. And she waited with bated breath for him to turn off the lights, draw his curtains closed, and lay down. Twenty minutes it normally took for him to fall asleep. Twenty minutes until she could steal her kisses. The clock was menacing tonight. She watched its analog numbers change slowly, willing it to go faster.

12:19

12:20

12:21

12:22

She ached. Forever wondering if he ever counted the time as she did. If he ever waited with breath halted in his lungs for her to enter the room. If he could match the desire in her heart.

When it was finally time, she padded down the hall, avoiding the creaking boards, the dampened air in the home from open windows on summer nights warping them. She'd have to remind him to call a contractor about updating their floors. Not tonight though. His door was silent as she crept inside, legs moving slowly as she crossed the dark to his bed. Silent as the night and light as a feather she climbed in, searching for his body in the black silk sheets.

Looking for me, Alya? Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, no longer in the bed but beside it. Though she couldn't see. And she refused to give herself the light.

He found her instead, breath warm against her neck as she felt his arms on either side of her. She was caged, kneeling on the bed as his body pressed behind her. You thought I wouldn't notice? His hum vibrated in her, the beating of her chest now in sync with a million vibrations. She wondered if he could hear it — loud and triumphant as if a speaker inside her.

You thought I wouldn't notice your stolen kisses, solnyshko? His fingers grazed her arms, a shiver running through her. His lips brushed her neck, and she wondered if this was instead a dream for herself. I wouldn't notice how you display yourself, like a whore for daddy? To her chest, the bodice long gone in favor of the night, thin nightgown doing nothing to protect her from his fingers. Firm and insistent, needing her flesh delicately before coming to pinch hardened nipples, forcing a gasp from her little mouth.

'M s-sorry daddy. Her whisper was unconvincing, not as he pushed her forward. A child pose for his child. He immediately pushed her arms forward, until she felt that darkness coil around her wrist, the shadows pulling them high above her head as she whimpered. Out of fear or desire, she did not know.

She felt warm air against her ass as he lifted her gown. It was dark but she knew he could see the creamy expanse of her skin as he sucked in a breath. His hands were on her again, kneading her flesh before he pulled her hips higher. We'll see how sorry you truly are.

His only warning before his tongue was on her barren slit. Wet and firm as he tasted her. She couldn't help her gasps, the whimpers that followed as he found her clit, toying with her yet devouring her as if starved. A soft moan escaped her once more, before she found her mouth filled, something cold yet smokey filling the space, only leaving room for air.

Shhh, solnyshko, we wouldn't want the guards to find us . She could only breathe as he returned to his ministrations, a finger slipping into her as her wetness began to seep down her legs. She had no control, her thighs, tickled by the scrapes of his beard, only adding to the sensation as his fingers pumped within her. He stroked every spark within her, pushing her further to the precipice.

Whispered daddy yes on her lips, muffled and strangled by the darkness in her mouth as her hips did what she could not admit. Grinding against his mouth, desperate and wanton as her heart. She didn’t know what was approaching, the slow twine in her lower belly, growing tighter and tighter as her father continued to touch her. It came at once, a tidal wave as her pussy clenched around the fingers inside. No reprieve as he continued to lick her. To move within her as a ghost, drawing forth that coil within her again, tears staining her cheeks as the euphoria washed over her.

She wanted to scream when he pulled away. Wanted to spit the offending darkness out of her mouth and yell at her Papa to please keep going . But he was back in an instant, warmth against warmth as he pulled her up, her back flush with his front. The shadows moved, snaking as if rope around her body. Forcing her legs apart, her arms behind her back. Trapped. She'd never been more aroused.

Gonna give you exactly what you wanted, Alya. His whisper was a threat as she felt it. The dull head against her cunt, barely a warning before it pressed. If she could cry out, shout, or scream she would've, but just like her papa, the darkness infected her like a disease. Twisted, all-consuming, yet she didn't mind. You're being so perfect for me , he'd nearly sing in her ear as he filled her. Hands were on her waist as he took took took all she could give

The first shallow thrust she clenched, moan tangled and softened as he continued to use her. His words were a melody, right in her ear. You have no idea how long I've yearned for you, my baby girl, my first love . She relished it, like the darkness that came to pinch her nipples, cold against her burning skin. And her skin was burning because her Sasha was finally giving her what she'd been screaming for, had he only listened.

Her eyes, useless anyway, rolled to the back of her head as his shadows found her clit. One day we'll teach you to be quiet, and I won't have to gag you, his hands were sin on her, bruising and encompassing. She yearned to hold him back, to whisper the dirty secrets she'd held to herself. But instead, a surprise as the orgasm snuck to her. As she came, animalistic as her body shook, his shadows let her fall. Her face soft in the mattress as he continued to fill her. Fill her full as his hips pistoned within her, soft grunts filling the room as he chases it. The release inside her he'd been yearning for.

You can give me one more, solnyshko, he demanded. His shadows came back to her clit, pressing just as she'd like. Her moans filled the gagging shadows, fist clenched in the sheets. She could've sworn she felt another pressure, just light at her puckered hole, and she fell apart. Gladly, clenching his every movement until he stilled. Hips flush with hers as she took his spend, deep within. Hers to keep inside.

When he fell to her side, the shadows were gone. Except for one, the cold push of his spend back in her cunt, a shiver through her body. Yet he pulled her tear-stained face to his and stole his own kiss from her. Not like their first, or the hundreds she'd stolen. His lips were demanding, almost punishing. And she kissed him back, his tongue an explorer in her mouth. It felt like ages they laid like that, bodies flush together. When she finally drifted to sleep, his arms protecting her from the horrors of the world, she felt content.

4:45

4:46

4:47

She knew the ticking of the morning clock like the back of her hand, methodic and digital, never yielding. She was, however, unfamiliar with the feeling of her father, cock already inside as he fucked his baby girl. Whispers shhh solnyshko, I just want to keep you full. His hands were reverent against her breast, his kisses quick against her face as she fought for consciousness.

It took little, his thumb pressing delicious circles into her clit as his hips thrust lazily at her center, for her body to fall apart. The all too new, yet all too familiar pull of her orgasm as she cried his name. Sasha Sasha Sasha . And all he did was pet her hair as he continued to move, and she fell asleep to her father coating her walls once more.

If she stopped attending parties in the next year. If the staff of the house noticed her ever-rounding belly, the steady stream of doctors in the house (twins, they all said). If Alina began to sleep in the same bed as the man who raised her. No one said a thing.

In fact, Genya was happy to be a nanny again. Sweet Pasha, rambunctious William. They both kept her plenty busy. While Alina and her Sasha walked the property, neither was terribly interested in going to the city. Only going when the twins demanded, pretending they did not hear the whispers.

They said the general adopted, but those kids look just like him.

Occasionally they considered moving, leaving the comforts of their cottage to a faraway place where no one knew who they were. Where no one could tell what the general had done to his daughter. But they found they didn't care, each night, wrapped in each other's arms. It felt as natural as rain, and Alina wouldn't trade it for the world.

#Darklina

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