Dad fucks his daughter but his daughter was never really taught anything about sex, so when Dad slips into her the first time as she's sitting on his lap before bedtime, she thinks it must be some sort of accident or something normal her dad is doing if not a bit odd mostly because it's new. She thinks maybe her dad doesn't even realize that his boy part is inside her. She didn't even realize there was an inside her until just now.
She doesn't ask him why he keeps doing it after that. Never asks what the white gooey stuff that drips out of her after is. Doesn't question when her father starts undressing her more, starts licking all her sensitive spots and sucking her nipples. It's just something dads do with their daughters, right?
A little comfort because I need him | cw: 18+ mdni, fluffy shit, dad bf!simon (idgaf), meanie!simon, lite dd!lg
You must’ve angered a God or something.
You’d had, had to since you had the shittest day to date. You were already working a shitty job (Ghost didn’t want you at), didn’t help that you gotten blamed for things you didn’t do, overstimulated by the rush of everything, forgotten your lunch, and to top it off, you’d missed your afternoon call with Ghost.
Don’t cry over spilled milk, they say— you were trying your best not to. All you needed to do was get home, shower, get in your favorite pj’s, make a nice cup of hot cocoa, snuggle up into your bed and watch an episode of your favorite comfort show. And you were this close (👌🏾this close) to finishing your plans.
A breakpoint— you’d dropped your favorite-absolute-must-use mug, a 90s looney tunes one, something your mom got you when you were six, on the floor.
Oh how badly you wanted to throw everything in the kitchen to the floor, punch and kick the walls, yell at something— crash out. But all that comes out is sobs and tears staining your face. Nothing was going right, even you having to go and get the fucking broom because who else was gonna clean up this mess?
Those loud thuds hit the wooden floor, until you hear that deep voice with a manc accent, filling the space, “Fucks happened?”
You sniff, once.
Twice.
“My mug broke,” your voice is straggled as you sweep up the white shards crushed with every movement. Oh god, your poor mug. Gone but not forgotten. Play Bye Bye by Mariah Carey.
The blonde follows you with his look, getting every piece of glass in the dust pan, wrapping its remnants in a plastic bag and into the trash. “Yer cryin’s loud, ‘ve got work to do.”
Simon, the scoundrel, oh so wise with his word choice, he was trying to get you to calm down, believe it or not. Tell you that whatever the fuck happened, you were okay. You’d sort it out together. Just how you needed sometimes, Daddy’d help. His words though, without fail, always got rearranged into the opposite when they came out.
You’d known that, but it didn’t mean it any hurt less.
You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, wragged breathes and muffled cries leaving your mouth, trying to side step that big oaf to put the broom and dustpan away. Mumbles of, ‘sorry’ and ‘give me a second.’
“Shit- didn’t mean- fuck, kid, come ‘ere.” Ghosts already pulling you close, thumbing away your tears. “you’re so mean Si.” You hiccuped, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
“I’ve heard. Didn’t help I said that shit either, did it?”
“No! Today-today hicc- was fucking terrible.”
“Looks like it.” And he takes you in his arms, letting you wipe your snot and tears in his shirt. Once the crying have finally died down to soft sniffles, he pulls away slightly, just to get a look at you. A blabbered mess, his pretty babydoll was.
“Sit with pa till ya feel better, yeah?” before you can give him a reply, he’s lifting you bridal style and taking you down the hall to his office.
“But you’re working.” That damn pout forms on your full lips.
“So? Don’t wanna sit with your old man?” There’s a rumble from his stomach as he teases you, the ends of his lips slightly turning upward. You slap his chest and huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.
But that’s what does the trick after such a stressful day, the click clack of your boyfriends fingers on the computer keyboard as you sat in his lap, his chest rising and falling opposite of yours, his hands rubbing your thighs and waist everytime his fingers needed a break. Like magic.
You were out like a light, snuggling closer into his neck. Simon absolutely loves it, how comfortable you are with him, his baby, giving your temple a soft kiss, gently playing with the ends of your curly hair that was in a low ponytail, playing the music he’d known would keep his pretty girl rested longer.
The blonde would order you another mug on his second monitor, one that would look absolutely adorable in your hands even though he’d say it was ugly, that brought a smile on your face, and help ease your mind from days like this one.
a/n: this would’ve healed me and made me a better person yesterday istg cause my day was shit. I have a taglist for simon, lmk if you want to be on it (or dropped, my writing it’s— well, it’s something)
get crazy perverted about spencer NEEEEOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW please
dadbf!spencer reid headcanons ⋆˚꩜｡
MDNI. fauxcest, age gap, prof!reid, smut, orgasm denial, praise and degradation and dumbification, we eatin' good tonight my fellow freaks, fem!neurodivergent!student!reader. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ masterlist.
—𖥔. thinking about post-prison dadbf!reid, who was surprised at himself for liking this... relationship so much. initially, he felt guilty. you were so young, still in college, and worst of all, his student. just the ethical dilemma is enough to send him into a spiral.
—𖥔. but once he'd stumbled into your orbit, try as he might, he couldn't leave. your gravity was too strong, too tempting—your bright eyes, staring up at him like he'd given you the world (wellhisdick'sjustasbigamiritewhaaat), your breathy giggles as you passed by him in the hallways, chatting with your friends. he didn't know he could love a sound so much. sound—scientifically, at least—is nothing but vibrations. molecules being disturbed just so to communicate. how can that be so attractive, he wonders.
that is, until he hears you moaning beneath him for the first time.
—𖥔. your relationship is an exasperating game of push and pull. two forces—one constant, pulling with increasing magnitude, and one who's just weak. the slightest push and you're bent over his desk. the slightest pull and he's ignoring you. telling you i'm too old for you, sweetheart. i'm your professor. do you even understand what's at risk here? you've got your whole life ahead of you. this is not a good decision. at least until you tug at his tie, pulling him into the storage closet, batting your lashes just so, and suddenly he's forgotten what the word ethical even means.
—𖥔. you aren't just young. you're stubborn. and probably unhealthily attached. but is it really your fault? you've never had this. never had somebody take care of you. never had a lovely man who's way too old for you scolding you on skipping breakfast, leaning over your shoulder to explain the mistake in your assignment he damn well knows you're too smart to make. you like his voice, is that a crime? is it a crime to purposefully bring home a bad grade and be punished for it? you revel in just how dumb he makes you feel, scolding you, how you should've tried harder, how look, you've made dad upset now, i don't like punishing you either, but we've gotta discipline somehow, right? you're far too spoiled, making you promise you'll do better next time, not letting you come even when you beg. he leaves you right there, sweaty and trembling on the bed, handing you your backpack with a stern look.
—𖥔. maybe sometimes, if you've got a test in his class, he fails you on purpose. gaslights you into thinking that he hadn't marked it wrong, that you didn't answer correctly, slapping your drenched cunt when you try to dispute it because how dare you? d'you think you know better than dad, hm? we need to work on your manners, baby.
—𖥔. and when you do in fact bring home an A? he is so proud. puts it on the fridge and everything. kisses your forehead, murmuring just how much of a good girl you are, how you work so hard, and he knew you could do it, my smart girl, and how dad is just so proud of you, that you deserve a reward. he does let you come this time. tells you to lay back, not allowed to lift a finger, whispering there you go, thaaat's it, kiddo, let go. you've deserved it into your neck as his fingers work on your third orgasm.
—𖥔. you don't need to lift a finger outside of your sex life either. like your coffee made a very specific way, in that one special mug, at the exact same time before school? it's on the counter, every morning, at the same time, made the exact same, without fail. nothing to eat? dad's got it. you just rest, sweetheart. exhausted from school? he's already got his arms open the second you get home, wrapping you up, getting rid of your bag and your coat, tying up your hair 'cos it's so hot, i dunno why i wore it down today, rocking you in his arms right there in the entryway. kisses on your temple, his hand warm under your shirt, aw, honey, s'okay. you jus' rest now, yeah? i've got you murmured into your ear. he waits for you to relax a good amount before gathering you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. undresses you himself, pulling your favourite pajamas over your head, wiping away your makeup oh so gently. you're practically half-asleep, head lolling to the side. he has to hold you up to ensure he's gotten all of it off, 'cos you'd be upset otherwise and we can't have that, can we? he'd always vowed to take care of his sweet girl. he'd like to make good on that promise.
—𖥔. he's annoyingly caring about your health, too. mental and physical. tracks your cycle, has not only pads but chocolates and warm tea ready. notices you being extra quiet in class, shoulders hunching in on yourself, leg bouncing beneath the desk, shrinking away from all the noise, so he calls you to his office for a 'talk', which, really, is an invitation for you to decompress before your next class. keeps a pair of noise-cancelling headphones in his desk drawer, hair ties, chewing gum, your favourite snacks, fidgets, and your favourite cardigan of his—that worn knitted navy blue one, embroidered with little yellow stars along the hem. it's so old it hardly fits him in anymore, but on you? it's perfect.
a/n: thank u for the req!! not sure what exactly u had in mind, but i had someone (@craftyglitterluvr ty for opening my eyes babes. ily) asking for spencer under my dadbf!matt hcs post. I litr have another request older than this asking for the exact same thing. is it the same anon😭 idk, probably. but I'll also probably do smth with that too. but thats a maybe. I fear i make too many promises and don't live up to them. anyways, enjoy you freaks.
