cassie fucks johnny to get back at her mom and hes pretending to not be into it but he gives in

Notes: Once again, this was written by my partner, BottomBitch. If you're interested in more of their work, hit up their AO3. You can find their commission info here.

"How do I look?" Cassie asked, standing before her father in less than would be considered proper even by the cheerleaders that she was attempting to emulate with her short skirt, a dark blue to match the uniform of her school, and a shirt that showed off more cleavage than it made any attempt to hide, even on the underside. Cassie had no intentions of being a cheerleader, though, proper or otherwise. What she wanted was to make sure that her father saw her for the sexy, just-about-legal girl that she was.

"You look, um," Johnny began, trying to figure out what the right level of interested to be was. As a father, he didn't want guys to be looking at his daughter the way that he was in that moment, but he also recognised that she was an adult now and that he had little right to tell her what to wear in the first place, considering how many girls at exactly her age he had been sleeping around with when he had been younger. The words were hard for him to find, but Cassie didn't give him the opportunity to find them.

"You don't think I look good, daddy?" she asked him, as she faced away from him and stuck out her bum. The skirt that she was wearing covered some of it, perhaps just about enough for her to get away with wearing it under the intended circumstances, but as she turned and the skirt lifted a couple of inches in the air, he got a flash of ass and of very flimsy, barely-there thong that made those words even harder to find, even as she had narrowed them down for him.

"I think that—" he began, only for her to cut him off.

"If you're about to tell me that mom wouldn't approve, I am well aware," she replied. Finally, something that he could actually respond to.

"Is that what this is about?" he asked her, trying his best to avoid letting his gaze linger on her for more than a couple of moments.

"Don't be silly, daddy," she told him, turning towards him again and leaning down—evidently, to be face-to-face with him, but it had the added bonus of practically pushing her cleavage into her face because of the height of the softa that he was sitting on. "This isn't about mom at all," she lied, "this is about me wanting my daddy to be able to tell me that I look hot."

"I don't think that I should be telling you that," he replied.

"And why not? Because it's weird? If I'm hot, just say so," she urged, and she found a perverse sort of pleasure in watching the way that he unravelled as he struggled to find the words once more. Finally, with a sigh and a pinch of his nose, he leaned back and turned his head to the side.

"Yes, you look hot," he told her, prompting Cassie to smirk at him.

"That wasn't so hard, was it, daddy?" she asked him, and the emphasis that she placed upon the word 'daddy' revealed that she knew exactly what she was doing, not that Johnny had any reasonable way to address that. He had barely gotten time to look towards her again before he noticed the angle that her head was at, looking straight down towards his crotch, and before he had any opportunity to protest she spoke up again. "Wow, I guess something ended up hard," she noted.

It was true. Johnny hadn't realised it until he had seen where she was looking, but his cock was rock hard, its length a firm and shapely imprint on the leg of his pants. Once more, words completely failed him, right when he needed them the most. With a sigh, he looked up towards Cassie again.

"It's just a natural reaction to the clothes that you're wearing," he told her, and then, in a flash, she brought her hand down to the crotch of his pants and gave a firm squeeze to the bulge running down his leg. Johnny was left speechless after that, whilst Cassie merely smirked at him.

"How many more of those 'natural reactions' of yours do I get?" she asked him, as her fingers worked against the edges and trailed their way to the tip. She made sure to trace them then around the head, right where its edges rose upon the fabric. Her fingers then traced down to the urethra below, pressing firmly against it until she felt a wetness begin to form there.

"None," Johnny told her, grabbing onto her forearm and pulling her hand away. Even once he had pulled her hand away, he kept a firm grip on her forearm. "We can't do this. You're my daughter," he told her, to which Cassie gave an immature pout. Whatever strength Johnny had wasn't as strong as it ought to have been, because even though he was able to keep a firm grasp on her forearm, when her other hand moved down to give his length another squeeze, he made no attempt to stop her.

"See, daddy? It feels good, right," she urged, a knowing smirk on her face.

"It doesn't matter how good it feels, it's not right," he replied, but continued to make no serious attempt to stop her despite the fact that her hand continued to squeeze at his member through the fabric of his pants. As he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, he felt her finger trace circles around the head.

"It feels pretty right to me," she spoke, slowly, her face mere inches from his, and then whatever control he had over himself collapsed entirely, in favour of a sole, strong need for his daughter, no matter how wrong it was, and no matter how little Sonya would approve if she were ever to find out about it.