Daddy Kink Quotes

Of course it hurts, it’s a spanking. How else would it work?

You so need a Daddy, little girl.

Let me tell you what I want. You, screaming my name, telling me how much you love being Daddy's slutty little girl while you beg me to go harder.

It was illicit, it was fucked-up, it was disgusting and nasty, but shit yeah, it was totally worth it.

If I fuck you, you’ll think all your prayers have been answered. I’ll make you see god, Middleton. I’ll make you think I am god.

Then how about while you work here you be my girl? Daddy's girl. I know you like to say yes, sir. why don't you try yes, daddy?

If I fuck you, you’ll think all your prayers have been answered. I’ll make you see god, Middleton. I’ll make you think I am god.” Ty Henderson - Act Your Age

Don’t look at Daddy like that.” He caught her chin, thumbing her kiss-swollen lips. “It’s just going to make what’s going to happen that much harder for you.

Should I be ashamed of this whole…Daddy thing? What started as a joke became something that not only has us both very aroused, but also has given me a sense of security and comfort that I haven’t felt in a very long time, if ever. Is that worse? That I call Ronan Daddy, because he literally watches over me and treats me like his little girl? Even if it is, who cares? Clearly, he and I share a kink for it, and we both enjoy it, so why should I feel weird about calling him that? It has nothing to do with Ronan being my actual father and everything to do with us giving each other something we’re clearly both craving. He feels best when he’s needed, and I feel safest when he’s there to protect me. If people think that’s weird, then fuck them.

I’ll take you home,” I say, and my words are simple, obvious. I’m surprised when she follows me to the passenger door of the Merc and slips into the seat without hesitation, but she seems dazed somehow. Naïve, maybe. Maybe that’s what got her into this mess in the first place. I suspect as much. Young, naïve and vulnerable. No way should she be out alone this late at night. No way should she be here, in this shithole part of Brighton. I feel the anger, at some unknown parents who should be worried sick, parents who should have taught her more fucking sense. A father who should be driving around looking for his daughter, who should be protecting her from pieces of shit like that fucking waster back there. I ignore the twitch in my jaw. Push aside that feeling. She needs a ride home. Just a ride home.

He retrieves a fluffy white robe from the bathroom and drapes me in it. Then he sits next to me and opens the black folder. Inside, there’s a single sheet of paper, covered in words and symbols. There’s a rough square in the center of the page, surrounded by wavy lines. Is that supposed to be water? Inside the square, there are small symbols: cliffs, mountains, an oval lake. The symbols are labeled. The Pillowy Mountains. Shipwreck Cove. Bathtub Lake. Pirate’s Lookout. Rum-un Cliffs. There are three fancy Xs on the map, drawn with curlicues and shaded in. One in Rum-un Cliffs, one in the Pillowy Mountains, and one in Pirate’s Lookout. “Is this a treasure map?” I ask, tracing my fingers over it. “Did you draw this? It’s so cool.” He nods. “X marks the spot, see? You have an hour to find the three treasures and bring them back to me.” A treasure hunt? He’s made a treasure hunt for me? A n4ked treasure hunt? “Pirate treasure?” I ask, blinking up at him. “Uh-huh.” I can play pirates. I have the perfect thing.

I swallow with bated breath. Lex, or Mr. Edwards, if I'm going for the whole daddy kink vibe, extends his hand politely to introduce himself. I’ve never been one to enjoy the age gap, but he is damn sexy, and standing here next to Alexa feels so uncomfortable, almost like she can read my mind.

I’m not your baby,” he growls, squeezing my throat. “You’re my twisted fucking Hurricane. Chaos in a brunette bottle. Who am I? Who waits for you in the dark?” I wince, even as I smile. The monster in him is finally coming out to play. I swallow against his hand, loving that exquisite tightness of breath. Meanwhile, my pussy is desperate for some more attention. “Please, daddy,” I whimper, loving the way his eyes flash with hunger and triumph. Oh yeah, Cay screams daddy dom kink. My control freak. Mr. Fixes Everything. “I need you. Fuck me so good. Own this pussy before I scream—

That man looks like my daddy kink come to life. He looks like he’s supposed to be scowling at me from the cover of a romance novel. That grizzled hunk of deliciousness looks like he should be wearing a headmaster’s robes, brandishing a cane, and bending me over⁠—

Fuck,” said Bernie. “Fuckwinky eyeballhead.” “No, Bernie. We don’t use those words.” “Which words?” “You know which words.” “You used them, Daddy.” “I made a mistake. I am sorry I said that word. It isn’t helping with our problem.” “What’s our problem?” “There may be no school today.” “That’s okay,” said Bernie. “It’ll be okay.” We weren’t sure where he had picked up that becalming phrase, probably from us, as we tried to talk ourselves out of the awful lucidity certain days afforded. The whole mirthless dwindle of things would suddenly pull into focus, the crabbed, moneyless exhaustion that stood in for our lives, and Maura and I would both start the chatter, the cheap pep: It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, we’ll get through this. When Bernie repeated these bromides, he sounded seventy years old. It broke your heart, as did about forty-three percent of the things Bernie said and did. About twenty-seven percent of the things he said and did made you want to scream and banish him to his childproofed room, or do much more heinous and ingenious things, just so he’d get the point, whatever the point could be with an almost-four-year-old, but still, to bury him alive and then save him at the last minute, or tell him that the state had passed a law against ice cream and he would go to prison if he even thought about it, because they now had the technology to detect illegal mint-chocolate-chip cogitation, had, in fact, the chips for it, seemed, if not conducive to his development, at least on some level deserved. Thirty percent of what Bernie said and did was either on the bubble or else utterly inscrutable, just the jolts and stutters of a factory-fresh brain working out the kinks.

You can’t just casually abuse my praise kink by going all Alpha Daddy on me with a pack of Snausages and get away with not giving me a proper gift,” Seth growled, pushing to his feet.

Tell Daddy how much you love being the only girl who gets to fuck his face.

Weston Belmont saved me from a grizzly bear. Saved me from myself, really. From my own naiveté. A smarter girl would be captivated by his bravery, or his deep voice, or his quippy one-liners. Not me. I’m following him down a backcountry road in the middle of the Canadian wilderness, daydreaming about his big fucking hands. I make a mental note to follow up with my therapist about this too. I have to be diagnosable. It has to be a coping mechanism of some sort. Do daddy issues give you a hand kink?

I have to be diagnosable. It has to be a coping mechanism of some sort. Do daddy issues give you a hand kink?

You’re one of us—part of the family. A severely fucked up, dysfunctional family, but it’s a far sight better than my actual family.” “I like that—being part of your family.” “Aww, you want me to be your daddy, baby?” “Fuck you, I do not have a daddy kink.

To all the good girls who just want to bone a dino Daddy.

Maddie . . . First of all, if you’ve got a daddy kink, I’ll be your daddy all day, every day.

Do daddy issues give you a hand kink?

HIIIIIIII DADDDYYYYY <333333

HIIIIIIII DADDDYYYYY <333333

So? A little daddy kink never hurt anyone.

Lex—” “You are young enough to be my kid. Hell, you were dating my kid!” he snaps, but he pulls me close like he can’t help himself. “So? Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

Grabbing my MacBook, I started by Googling the most important thing. Daddy kink equals daddy issues?

Tell me who daddy is.” I couldn’t. It was degrading and weird, and I wished my pussy would get the memo and stop getting wetter every time he said. “I can’t.” My legs tightened around him when his pounding cock drove me up the shower wall. The sound of the running water drowned out my cries. I didn’t know which kink was worse, choking me until I lost consciousness or withholding my orgasm until I gave in to his degradation.

Because sometimes it feels good to shake it all off, get out from under. Chances are, we haven’t. But maybe we have. Maybe nobody, nobody at all, knows where we are. Nice feeling, huh? You could be kinked, you ever think of that? Maybe your dad, the Yak warlord, he’s got a little bug planted in you so he can keep track of his daughter. You got those pretty little teeth, maybe Daddy’s dentist tucked a little hardware in there one time when you were into a stim. You go to the dentist?” “Yes.” “You stim while he works?” “Yes …” “There you go. Maybe he’s listening to us right now.…