The Pookie books? Oh, that’s Ivy Wallace’s handiwork! I adore how she blended storytelling with her background in visual arts—it makes every page feel alive. Pookie’s world is soft and inviting, like stepping into a watercolor painting. Wallace had this knack for capturing childhood innocence without making it cloying. My favorite detail? How Pookie’s wings are treated as this utterly normal thing, like a kid wearing mismatched socks. It’s that subtle magic that makes her work endure. I’d kill for a reprint with updated paper quality, though; my vintage copy’s spine is holding on for dear life.
Ivy Wallace! Her name might not ring bells for everyone, but her creation, Pookie, is pure comfort in book form. I first discovered Pookie through my grandmother’s dusty bookshelf—she’d saved her childhood copy, and the delicate pages smelled like history. Wallace’s illustrations are dreamy, almost ethereal, with Pookie’s little wings and wide-eyed wonder. There’s something so tender about how she wrote him; he’s curious but never mischievous, kind but never saccharine. It’s a shame her other works aren’t as celebrated, because her artistry was ahead of its time.
Ivy Wallace, a British author-illustrator, gifted the world Pookie in the 1940s. What I love is how her style feels both vintage and fresh—like Tove Jansson’s 'Moomins' but with a distinctly English coziness. Pookie’s stories are simple but never boring, and Wallace’s art has this delicate precision that makes every leaf and feather matter. It’s the kind of book you’d read under a blanket fort, tea in hand.
Pookie is the adorable little rabbit created by the talented author and illustrator Ivy Wallace. I stumbled upon 'Pookie' years ago in a secondhand bookstore, and the whimsical illustrations instantly charmed me. Wallace’s work has this timeless, cozy quality—like a warm hug in book form. She wrote and illustrated the series in the mid-20th century, and Pookie’s adventures, with his iconic wings and gentle personality, became a classic. It’s one of those rare children’s books that feels equally magical to adults, maybe because Wallace poured so much heart into it. I still flip through my worn copy when I need a dose of nostalgia.
Funny enough, Wallace wasn’t just a children’s author—she also worked in animation and even designed puppets! That multidisciplinary creativity shines through in Pookie’s expressive, almost animated style. If you’ve never read it, I’d describe it as a mix of 'Winnie-the-Pooh' and 'Peter Rabbit,' but with its own quirky charm. The fact that Wallace’s work isn’t as widely known today feels like a crime; Pookie deserves a comeback.
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ALL YOURS, DADDY
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"Does my son f*ck you this good? No? Then take this d*ck like the good girl you are." My father-in-law had me bent over the kitchen counter, hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my moans, while his son—my husband—called my name from upstairs...
***
You think you know what you're getting into? You don't have a f*cking clue.
This isn't some tasteful romance where the camera pans away. This is the raw, uncut, NC-17 version of your filthiest 3 AM fantasies—the ones you'd never admit to anyone, not even yourself.
We're talking D*ddies who don't ask permission because you already gave it with those desperate eyes. Men old enough to be completely off-limits but experienced enough to make you forget your own name. They'll bend you over their desk, f*ck you silent at family dinner, and make you call them D*ddy while reminding you how young, and tight you are.
Trigger warnings? Everything here is designed to trigger you. Age gaps that'll get you disowned. Rough hands leaving fingerprint bruises on your hips. Choking that blurs your vision while he calls you his perfect little slut. Public s*x in places you'll never see the same way. Getting passed around because one man isn't enough.
These men don't make love—they f*ck, claim, own. They'll use every hole like it belongs to them because it does. Degrade and worship you in the same breath. Call you their dirty girl while balls deep making you scream.
Now be a good girl, turn the f*cking page, and let Daddy show you what you've been missing.
Victor stood behind me, cock still half-hard and glistening with our combined mess. He reached down, scooped a finger through the cum dripping from my hole, then brought it to my lips. "Taste how full I left you, baby girl."
I sucked his finger clean without hesitation, moaning softly at the salty, musky mix. "More," I whispered. "I want both of you again. Harder this time."
Jamal chuckled low, stroking his length back to full hardness. It looked even longer now, curved and slick from my spit. "Greedy little thing. Flip over. I want to see your face while I fuck you."
Cum Inside Me, Daddy is a collection of straight-up filthy stories about raw, no-limits sex. Bodies crashing together in hard fucks. Holes stretched wide, throats used rough, sheets drenched in cum and sweat.Each one dives deep into pure hunger, cocks slamming in deep, pussies taking it hard, asses getting claimed with no mercy. All the taboo stuff you crave, laid out in brutal detail.No romance. No sweet talk. Just hard, wet, pounding sex that leaves you spent. This book isn't about love. It's about need and giving in until you're soaked.
"Crawl to Daddy on your hands and knees, little whore. I want to see you beg for this d*ck before I split you open and breed that dripping c*nt."
*
Daddy's Naughty Pet is a collection for readers who are tired of vanilla bullshit and want stories about people who fuck like their lives depend on it. Five chapters each of the raunchiest, most depraved scenarios that'll make you wet, hard, and wondering what's wrong with you for loving it.
The stepmom who "accidentally" walks in on her stepson jerking off and decides to help. The personal assistant who schedules "meetings" that are really just fuck sessions on the conference table. The priest who breaks his vows with a parishioner in the confessional. The doctor who gives very hands-on examinations.
The landlord who demands payment in pussy. The mechanic who test-drives more than cars. The massage therapist with wandering hands. The yoga instructor who teaches flexible positions for other reasons. The lifeguard who performs mouth-to-mouth that turns into face-fucking. The uber driver who takes a detour.
Every character is controlled by their cravings. The married woman sneaking out to get railed by her ex because her husband's dick doesn't satisfy. The college girl who fucks her entire fraternity in one night. The businessman who keeps a submissive locked in his penthouse.
These stories don't have plot—they have positions. No character development—just hole development. No emotional connection—just physical fucking that leaves them sore, sticky, and immediately ready for round two.
Expect: Every depraved kink you can imagine and some you didn't know existed.
This collection is shameless, filthy, degenerate smut with zero redeeming qualities. And that's exactly why you'll devour every word.
Ready! Now flip that page like the good little girl you are.
“Daddy, please don't stop..." I begged, aching for one more thick finger stretching my dripping pussy.
**
There are two mistakes a girl should never make.
One: comparing your daddy’s best friend’s cock to your boyfriend’s.
Two: actually fucking him.
I did something worse.
Daddy told me to email my résumé to his best friend because I’d been jobless for months. Drunk and reckless at 2 a.m., I sent Troy Reynolds something else instead—high-definition nudes of me spreading my soaked pussy, my tits squeezed together, tongue out, and begging for his cum.
I knew it was wrong. I’d wanted him since I was seventeen. But the universe handed me the match… and Troy lit the fire.
He never forgets.
Now he wants me. He wants me dripping with his cum, claimed, ruined, and marked with his name on every inch of my skin. He wants me crawling to him on my knees.
He fucked me. Then he hired me—not as his intern, but as his personal slut. His eager whore. His favorite fucktoy and willing little plaything.
And every time he buries himself deep inside me, he makes me moan the one word that seals my fate.
“Daddy.”
This is a box—a wicked little treasure chest overflowing with daddy kinks. K-I-N-K-S that twist and tease in the darkest corners of desire. Inside, you’ll find forbidden daddy taboo stories dripping with raw power and aching submission, where boundaries dissolve and hungry hands claim what’s theirs.
This book is not suitable for all readers.
It contains highly explicit scenes—100% raw sin and sex with zero plot to hide behind.
Keep your tissues close… you’re going to need them. .
On My Knees, Daddy: A Compilation of Short Stories
Mystikal Penn
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What if your next filthy favorite story started with a moan… and ended with “Yes, Daddy”?
Then take a deep breath… •ON MY KNEES, DADDY• is ready to leave you soaked, breathless, and aching for more.
This is a raw, erotic collection of dominant men who don’t ask—they take. And their submissives? Oh, they beg. They kneel. They come apart, over and over.
Inside, you'll find stories that cross every line: hotel-room threesomes, forbidden stepdaddy fantasies, one-night stands, rough office sex, taboo roleplay, and the kind of dirty stories that will have your thighs clenched and your fingers wandering.
Warning: 18+ only. Featuring hardcore taboo and age-gap erotica.
This is an erotic boxset containing yet another twelve stories of irresistible steam, steam, fun, and naughty stories. If you're not up to eighteen, this book is not for you.
Get ready to be intrigued. To feel. To...burn.
---------
"You think I'm a softie?" My voice is deceptively gentle when the rest of me is so hard. "Do you know why I pulled over?"
"Why?" she says, seeming to hold her breath.
"I pulled over because I know tight pussy when I see it." I frame her jaw with my right hand, tilting her blushing face up toward mine. "I'd like to fuck you on all fours, right here in the middle of the road, little girl. Rough as you can stand. Still think I'm a softie?"
"No," she gasps, the green of her eyes deepening to a forest shade. "I don't."
"Good."
I wish I could help you find 'Pookie' online for free, but I’ve gotta be honest—I’m not sure where it’s legally available. Sometimes, unofficial sites pop up claiming to host comics or books, but they’re often sketchy and might even violate copyright. I’d hate to see fans accidentally support piracy or deal with malware risks. Have you checked platforms like Webtoon or Tapas? Even if it’s not there, libraries sometimes offer digital loans through apps like Hoopla or Libby. It’s worth a shot!
If you’re really invested in finding 'Pookie,' maybe join a fan forum or subreddit dedicated to indie comics. Fellow readers often share legit ways to access niche titles. I’ve discovered hidden gems that way! Plus, supporting the creator directly—if possible—ensures more stories like this get made. I totally get the hunt for free reads, but balancing that with respect for artists’ work keeps the community thriving.
I stumbled upon 'Pookie' quite by accident during a weekend bookstore crawl, and it turned out to be one of those hidden gems that lingers in your mind long after the last page. The novel follows Pookie, a quirky, introverted artist who inherits a mysterious old house from a distant relative. At first, it seems like a simple story about rediscovering roots, but as Pookie uncovers cryptic letters and half-finished paintings in the attic, the narrative spirals into a surreal blend of magical realism and psychological depth. The house itself feels alive, whispering secrets from the past that blur the lines between memory and hallucination.
What really hooked me was how the author wove themes of identity and loss into Pookie’s journey. The supporting cast—a nosy librarian with a penchant for folklore, a reclusive neighbor who claims to have known Pookie’s ancestor—add layers of intrigue. By the climax, the boundaries between Pookie’s art and reality dissolve entirely, leaving readers to question what’s imagined and what’s hauntingly real. It’s the kind of book that makes you stare at your own walls afterward, wondering if they’re hiding stories too.