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Wriothesley had never been short of hearing comments from other people, particularly other parents, who couldn't quite understand him as a father. He watched over you at all times, never letting you go outside on your own, and encouraged you to tell him every thought that ran through your head. According to him, everything he did was because he wanted to keep you safe and have a close relationship with you. It really was true, to an extent. He would rather freeze to death than see you hurt or distant with him, but it felt much more complicated within his heart.
Aside from your safety and your good relationship with him, he valued your happiness. Your smile made his day brighter; it made him feel like every sacrifice he made for you was not for naught. Whenever your eyes would shine, he believed them to be the light leading his way forward. That was just how special you were in his heart, so much so that he thought your face was that of a mirror to him, too, because when your lips curved upwards, his own ones would do so as well. His own happiness depended on yours.
Perhaps, to some, it would seem odd that he preferred to cuddle his son. How could he not, though? Each time he did, he felt a warmth in his heart that could not compare to anything else he had ever felt. Your frame held in between his arms made him feel secure and peacefully aware that you were there, where he could keep you safe. Wriothesley was able to feel calm as long as he could make sure that you were okay. It's not like he was doing anything wrong; you often said that snuggling close to his body made you feel warm as well.
"Baby," he called you by a petname, too. He never meant anything weird by it, but some people had strange reactions when the word accidentally slipped past his lips. For some reason, it seemed that some parents stopped calling their children that after a certain age. "Come here." He spoke gently to you, smiling as he gestured to his lap. Once more, he couldn't help but suspect he might be stared at weirdly if he did such a thing in front of others.
You, all too naturally, smiled as you sat on his lap. In his presence was where you felt the safest and warmest, so much so that you would often feel your cheeks heat up as he held you close to him. "What is it, daddy?" Most people your age would have stopped calling their father that word long ago, but you continued to do so regardless of how many years passed. Luckily, no one thought it was too odd. A few raised eyebrows here and there, but it never became a real problem for anyone.
"Nothing much, I just wanted to hold you." Wriothesley smiled so lovingly at you, his hand coming to rest over one of your knees. The feeling of your soft skin under his rough hand brought a sense of calm to his heart, savoring the closeness between the two of you. "Are you tired?" He asked when he noticed your eyelids closing for a bit longer, breaking the comfortable silence that had taken over the room.
"Just a little," you replied, smiling at him. You allowed your cheek to rest against his, earning a chuckle from him and some caresses to your hair. Your eyes drifted to the hand that was resting on your knee, one of your own hands coming to rest atop Wriothesley's. You let out a small sigh, feeling safe and loved. "Can we go cuddle, daddy?" You said, your heart beating a little faster at the mere idea of cuddling him before falling asleep. No matter how often you did it, you would still get flustered whenever you even thought of Wriothesley's touch, of how warm he could make you feel.
"Of course we can, darling," he answered, caressing you for a little longer before you stood up from his lap. He held your hand as he made his way to his room, which had become yours as well over time. You slept with him more often than not, so it would be more accurate to say it was "your" room, one that you both shared together.
The first smell you felt upon entering the room was that of Wriothesley's cologne, mixed in with his own natural smell. It was calming; it was all you ever needed to smile. You enjoyed the feeling of drowning in his scent. It was the most familiar smell that your nose perceived, not even your own perfume came close. Perhaps it was due to the fact that, at times, you spent more time in his room than you should. Minutes, hours, days, weeks...
Wriothesley guided you to the bed, slipping under the blankets with you and making sure you were comfortable first and foremost. "Is it too warm?" He asked you, to which you answered with a light shake of your head. You snuggled close to him, your eyes gazing up at his. He chuckled as he put a hand on your cheek, his breath lightly tickling your skin. He then teased you: "I thought you were tired."
Your cheeks couldn't have been any hotter, it even surprised you that Wriothesley hadn't commented on it yet, considering his cold hand was right on the skin that felt like it was burning up. "Yes, but..." You looked away, too shy and flustered to tell him what you wanted. Regardless of how open you were with him in your daily lives, it was in moments such as that one where it seemed like words completely escaped your brain, leaving you stranded and lost. It was in moments like that that Wriothesley seemed to read your mind, too.
"I understand, baby," he spoke softly, moving closer to you. You held your breath and closed your eyes, your cute manner of waiting soon caused him to smile widely. After just a few seconds, you felt a soft warmth embrace your lips, your heart almost beating out of your chest as if it were your first kiss ever. In fact, it had felt the same way when he first kissed you all those years ago, you could remember it vividly even after so long.
As he would always say, he valued your happiness, even more than anything else in the world. The first time he kissed you was at a time when you felt sad, often whining about how other people were having boyfriends and girlfriends, kissing and holding hands. It was so innocent and so sweet that he could not help but indulge and show you what it felt like to be kissed. Back then, he had tried to tell both himself and you that it would be a one-time thing, but as time passed, he only proved himself wrong over and over.
He couldn't stop tasting your lips, savoring the innocence in them. It was a blessing to be able to strip that very same innocence from your mouth, knowing that you would forever remember him even if someone else got a taste of you. It was sick; it was disgusting, but he couldn't help feeling the relief that washed over his heart as he was reminded that you were his.
You were happy when he kissed you, because you knew it meant he loved you a lot. You knew kisses were a special thing shared between two people who loved one another a lot, and you were sure that you loved Wriothesley back just the same. Day after day, you would come up to him and ask for kisses, getting sad when he tried to reject you and beaming with joy when his lips would warm up your own.
Ever since then, he reminded you to keep it a secret, repeating it over and over until he was sure you understood. You didn't, really. You never did. You wanted to be able to kiss the person you love in front of others, show everyone that your dad belonged to you, and have people admire how much love you held for each other, but you couldn't. You didn't like it too much— the secrecy that came with the kisses, that is. In your opinion, it made things more difficult than they needed to be, but you knew better than to misbehave and disappoint your father.
As you grew, so did your doubts about the situation. Wriothesley's insistence on keeping things a secret made you realize that, maybe, something was wrong. But he was quick to act, reassuring you that everything was okay, that you two were just like any other father and son, only a tad bit closer. He sounded so genuine as he told you that other people would simply never understand the deep connection you had. He wasn't lying to you, but he did deliberately hide some truths from you, such as why others wouldn't understand your connection.
"Daddy," you whispered once, your hands covering your mouth before he could kiss you. "I don't think we should keep doing that... It's wrong, it's bad."
He only looked at you like he had already figured out how to ease your nerves. Just as you were easy to read, you were also easy to comfort. His words got to your heart so quickly, precisely because he had influenced you that way. "Do you love me, baby?" The question seemed ridiculous, of course you did. Your response was a nod of your head, to which he smiled. "I love you too, and that's all that matters."
You never questioned things again; in fact, you only grew closer to Wriothesley. Soon enough, you were kissing every day. It would be a greeting, a way to say goodbye, an affectionate gesture, a part of your everyday life. With that, he also gradually got you used to him slipping his tongue within your mouth, seeking yours to play with. The drool, the heavy breaths and the elevated temperature made you feel a weird tingle right between your legs.
The heat made your cheeks get red, your heart beating so much faster than ever. You weren't familiar at all with such a feeling, and Wriothesley had never taught you about it. Everything felt hot and heavy, you weren't even sure if that was a good feeling or not. It was scary, but it also excited you, making you crave more.
"My... my privates feel funny, dad," you whined, clearly asking for his help. Your hands gripped at his shirt as you felt every little touch of his make your pussy pulsate, clenching and unclenching around nothing. Even if he was just holding your waist down against the bed, it made you hornier than ever.
"I'll help you, baby. You just have to trust me, okay?" You nodded your head before he even finished the question. It made no sense for him to ask you to trust him, since you wouldn't ever doubt him in the first place. It was easy for you to even get to close your eyes as you felt Wriothesley take your clothes off. He had bathed you a lot of times, so there was nothing odd or unfamiliar about having your father eye you up and down, the only difference was that your private parts were giving you funny feelings.
His fingers were careful as they teased your entrance, picking up some slick wetness from the lower part of your pussy before rubbing all the way up, his fingertips finding your clit and playing with it. Your thighs twitched, wanting to close around his hand so that he wouldn't stop touching you, but also tempted to open wider so that he had easier access to that area that was bringing you so much pleasure.
"Tell me if you want me to stop, baby," he spoke so gently to you, as if he wasn't corrupting more than he had already done in the past. A sense of guilt was building up in the back of his brain, stacking in the balance against his own desires, but remained on the higher end regardless. He couldn't deny his heart, couldn't deny that he wanted you all for himself.
"No... Don't stop..." You were moaning so beautifully as he played with your sensitive clit, making you wetter. His breath was heavy and his eyes were focused on your face, admiring your blush, your teary eyes, and the little bit of drool that dripped down your face. You were such a mess, and those were just his fingers.
He thought of what it would be like to have you on his cock, so small and tight around it. You would probably whine even more, only feeling confused and lost, and he would be the one to guide you. He would whisper to you that everything's fine, that he's just showing his love for you. Even if he would try to hold back, he might end up cumming inside you too, but he would quickly reassure you that all he was doing was store his love inside you, where you could have it forever.
Wriothesley hated how gross he felt for thinking such things, he hated how that guilt was never enough to stop him. He wanted to taint your face, your insides, every inch of your body, ensuring that he was the one to take away every last bit of your innocence. His cock had to be the one to break you, so that you would never be able to think of anything else but him whenever you felt horny. After all, who else could you ever need to satisfy you when daddy was right there?
Once he snapped back to reality, he realized two of his fingers were inside you, all wet and thrusting at a fast pace as you cried and squirmed under him. You were only blabbering nonsense, your hands holding onto his wrist as your hips made a pathetic attempt to rub your pussy against his hand, even if he was already touching you. The squelch of your cunt made him wonder if you had already orgasmed, but he had no time to think about that as he heard a whimper come from your lips.
"Daddy! Daddy! I-I'm... I feel weird. G-Gonna pee!" You cried, your face all red as you let out high-pitched noises that only served to send blood rushing all the way down to Wriothesley's cock. The squelch of your insides being thrust into got louder as his fingers moved faster, quickly bringing you to an orgasm, the knot on your lower belly releasing and wetting both his fingers and the sheets under you.
His hand slowly pulled out of your cunt, leaving you to lie down on the bed tiredly, huffing puffs of air as you tried to catch your breath. "Good boy," he praised you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "Let's go get you cleaned up."
Wriothesley was always so nice to you. He helped you take a bath, washed the sheets you got wet, and held back from making you deal with the hardness he felt on his cock.
He was such a good father, wasn't he?