#toxic!simon

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

situationship!ghost who has blatantly told you many times before that you meant nothing to him besides a good fuck. how he'd text all his friends immediately, all his other links in front of you, and take calls so he could leave the room right after cumming in you so when he gets back you can be gone and he doesn't have to deal with you.

he treats you so badly and the only time he actually speaks to you is to ask if you want to come over to his, says his bed is feeling cold and lonely. even though he practically kicks you out and you have to beg him to cuddle for what he lets to be an hour. only says nice things to you when he's balls deep inside of you, going on and on about how you're the only one who can make him cum like that. when you squeeze him so tightly it's like you're made for him, you're made to just take it.

but every time you try to ask him to be something more he just shuts you down and tells you it's never gonna happen, why would you even think that? that if you're so attached to him he should just go on to his next favorite fuck. will lowkey insult you to another one of his hookups, texting that they ride him better than you do. or a different one knows how to use their hands. or how another one sounds better when he can make them cum so nicely. it's insulting. you're pretty sure he's doesn't mean all of that. why else would he keep you around. maybe he's just trying to mess with you... right?

all of your friends that you tell and ask for advice basically rip you one apart. telling you to get your head out of your ass because you keep hurting yourself trying to wait for a guy who won't give you the time unless he needs something to stick his cock into. they confiscate your phone every time you have the urge to call him up late at night, or when you're high or drunk and craving him again, they try to set you up with so many other people who are better. or at least give you a placeholder in the meantime.

all you could think about was what he was thinking when you stopped texting him, but your friends all had to show you your own receipts on that you carried 90% of the conversation, even the ones where you asked to link up. he would just initiate by asking for pics or during what you used to call a "very good week" was when he asked for you to come over twice or even three times. but then your friend's plans started working when they said if you wanted to meet someone then they could introduce you to somebody.

and it works, because for the first time you're not worrying about texting him. in fact, it hurts but makes you feel a little better when he doesn't contact you for a couple weeks. and you're meeting new people and going out on dates that you've never gone on with ghost. you get to chat with people can get flirted with! it's so different and you're being treated so well, courted so nicely. and when the long awaited "what u up to?" text dings on your phone?

it's like you finally flushed out the rest of your feelings towards ghost when you send a "busy" text back. you don't even reply to the measly one letter acknowledgement he sends you as you get ready for another date with someone you've been liking a lot lately. they make you feel everything that ghost doesn't. and all the good things ghost made you feel, your date does better.

you think that's the end of it because another couple of weeks go by and you're practically starting a new relationship. and when you're cuddling with your new date, ghost sends a text asking for you to come over. and you scoff and tell him you're not interested. you date takes your phone and snaps a picture for you to send as well, hoping ghost will get the message. kind of irks you when he asks if they can fuck you better than him. to which he gets his answer later when there's a picture of a sight ghost has seen a million times. the sight of you cumming. but the difference this time is that you're smiling.

ghost just stares at his phone for a second and thinks "hm, good for you." but doesn't realize how much it affects him until later on. from what used to be calling you up sometimes first, sometimes if his second or third option didn't reply and you were the next choice, he finds himself thinking more and more about you. and the lack of you.

suddenly starts thinking and trying to track when you switched up. when you started seeing this someone new. someone who's not him. did you also have a roster of people besides him? when he didn't answer you on purpose, did you jump to the next person like he would do? he shouldn't be thinking too hard about it. but he is.

he doesn't fault you for deciding to cut it off with him. but he starts going over all the what if's. especially when he sees you out and about, can hear your laugh when you're shopping with your new partner. can hear your voice. can hear how different you were compared to with him. he starts scrolling through all your old texts, starts thinking about when you'd try to start conversation with him after he fucked you. that you still had energy to try to talk to him, to get to know him.

and how he can't stop thinking about how you were the only person to give him the time of day aside from being a quick and good dicking down. maybe he did miss the way you'd text him all these random things or give him little voice memos. leaving some of your belongings in his home so you'd have an excuse to come back and see him even though you didn't want to get into his bed.

he's created a little pile of your things: a shirt you left over, some bracelet and ring, and even a toothbrush you brought once. he thinks he should return it to you, an excuse to see you again. the whole time he's trying to think of what he'd say to you though. he'll keep scrolling through your social media pages and starts seeing new photos pop up of you smiling and going out on dates with someone he thinks has a really punchable face. grits his teeth when he sees stories of you having a lazy day in bed together, thinks about all the times he kept you in his bed. chalks it up to him missing being able to bury himself deep inside you. but can't truly tell anyone that he's just extremely jealous he let you slip through your fingers.

thinks he finally has his chance to talk to you again when he tries to go to the club to snag a new fuck buddy, get his mind of you. but when you're there and having the time of your life on the dance floor? he thinks it must be destiny, another shot for him to maybe clear it up. maybe bend you over the bathroom sink like he did the first time you two met and started linking up. but then when he starts making his way through the crowd, he sees who's you're dancing on. he sees the way you turn to wrap your arms around a familiar neck. he sees the way you just look so happy.

and when he sees you giggling and being pushed into the bathroom by your partner, all he can think is, "damn. i messed up."

“Simo—“

It’s quick, he’s grabbing your forearm, dragging you to the living room and placing you on the couch. A pout forms on your lips, you already know you’re in for it. Internally cursing at yourself, your big brown eyes follow his movement to the steps upstairs.

“I-I don’t want to.” You squeaked out. And Simon stops in his tracks, eyes squinting at you.

“ ‘S it ‘bout what y’want? The fuck did I tell you to do?”

Without another word, he’s up the steps and you can feel the lump in your throat build. He’d let you sit in fear for a few minutes, restless, heart beating louder than the house creaking. You hear Simons heavy footsteps as he comes back downstairs, your brown eyes on him again, and this time his hands aren’t empty.

A little vibrator with a remote in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. He sat on the couch and looked over at you, “Gonna get in daddy’s lap or am I gonna ‘have t’make you?”

Most didn’t know unless you were on an opposing person, Simon was ridiculously heavy handed. Calloused & large hands that were good with multiple weapons of destruction were also good at keeping things in order. Keeping you in order. And the first smack is like a strike of thunder. Egregiously loud, painful, “It hurts!” You yelp out trying to get out of his hold.

“‘S meant to,” he grunts, his lips in a thin line, pulling you back on his lap, rubbing your bottom, soothing it.

The next couple smacks has you thrashing around, trying to apologize ‘I’m sorry’ ’I didn’t mean to’ and trying to get out of this man’s grasp so much he pinned your arms behind your back, smacks down to your thighs now—

Letting out a sigh through his nose, “Make it worse f’y’self, don’t give a shit kid.”

And you sob, body jerking with every swat, then resetting itself properly over Simons lap. Your ass was raw by the time he’d decided to stop, something the older man knew he’d have to take care of later because it would be purple from how bad he bruised it.

Simon almost wants to ask if you’re the crazy one here because despite him making sure your ass was busted and blue— your panties were soaked. To the point it’s starting to get his jeans wet. It’s almost laughable. Almost.

He slides your panties to the side, dipping a thick finger inside the wet ocean that was your hole then replacing said finger with a devilish little vibrator Simon only brought out to fuck with you. And you despised the little thing. Simon lifted you off his lap and to sat you on the ground, right on your aching bottom so he’d see you cry a little more.

You looked so gorgeous crying for him.

He gave you a devlish grin, sucking your remnants that was left on his finger. “You stay like that till I say.”

You frantically shake your head, wiping away the tears, “Daddy I- hicc- I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Simon thinks for a moment, taking a cigarette out of the pack. He cracks his neck, lighting the cigarette after a few ‘flick’s of the lighter that sat it on the coffee table, raising two fingers as he rests his elbows on his knee.

“Got two options, you know ‘em don’t you?” or was your brain already fizzled out?

You’d either: take the vibrator out yourself and make this whole situation ten times worse or you’d handle it.

Good girls handled it, didn’t they?

The blonde had turned the tv on, a burning cigarette hanging from his mouth, nursing a glass of whiskey. His eyes were on the monitor, fully laid back like what was happening to you wasn’t happening, but he’d kept you in the corner of his eye. Observing, watching as you withered to a complete, fucked out mess.

“Pa, I wan- I wanna stop. I’m sorry.” You keened, you were fully laid on the floor. Your body trembling on the carpet.

But all Simon did was lift his pointer finger to his lips, shushing you.

“Hear that?” and your eyes are shaky following his gaze as he gestured to the quiet of the room. The only thing heard was the murmur of the tv and your soft mewling as that damned vibrator humming inside you. “It’s what it should always sound like when you don’t piss me off. I don’t think you understand that yet though.”

“I do! I do pa-“

“Shut your fuckin mouth [+].”

Slowly but surely turning the vibrator up, up, up and that fatherly sixth sense kicks in because he knows you, and I mean really knows you. The way you moan, the way you squeeze your legs together for friction, closing your eyes shut because you’re about to cum and at the exact right moment, he turns it all the way down so you won’t.

And every time you beg, plead for forgiveness, you whine, sob, roll around on the floor like a god damn animal. You’d reach out to hold on to him, he’s pushing you off, right on your tender bottom, and turning up the tv.

Simon doesn’t want to hear it. It gives him a headache.

And it goes on like that, for hours.

It could’ve been days and you wouldn’t have realized. edging you to completely dumb you down and sub you out, till you’re on the brink of insanity.

Shaky breaths, and a tear stained face, face laying on the couch and drool & snot wetting the cushions, mumbling incoherent words.

And then you hear it, God speaking, “Come here Kitty.”

And it takes everything in you to pull yourself off the floor, legs just about ready to give out with every little step you made towards Simon. You stood in between Simons thighs, flopping down on your knees and full on weeping into Simons thigh. Oh the dramatics.

Your chest rapidly moved up and down, choking on your on tears. Ghosts large hand came down from what seems to be heaven, taking your face in his hand. You immediately leaned into it, your eyes finding his.

“You understand doin this shit is annoyin don’t you?”

“I- I understand.” you hiccuped, biting your lip to hold in whatever cries were still left in you.

“I don’t like beatin you but you have to understand. You don’t curse at me and bitch all fuckin day and think I’ll let it slide. Didn’t raise you like that, have I?” Simons huffs, going through the end table in search of something, then places it in your hands. “Wipe your face doll.”

“No sir,” you sniffle, wiping away whatever mess was on your face has been left there with the tissues Ghost gave you. “I- I was- I wasn’t bein smart.”

“No, no you weren’t. You were a dumb little brat. You use your words when you’re annoyed at me, think it’s quite a simple thing I ask of you and still you went and threw a tantrum. Almost gave me a headache from that whinin… but it’s just a little fuck up huh, honey?” He lifted your chin in his fingers, still his pretty baby, just a little absent minded.

“Yes sir, I- hmm- hicc- I wanna be gooood,” you slurred, gripping his hand in your own. He hummed, gently pulling you into his arms. Your body immediately melted against him, rubbing your face in his neck as his hands rubbed your back. You hadn’t even realized you started humping his thigh, soft whines leaving your plump lips.

He chuckles, “Damn, you’re fuckin trouble, thinkin with your fuckin cunt. Such a slut. Think I should help you? Hm, let you cum once?” One of his hands trail from your neck, down the valley of your breasts to your ruined underwear, bucking his hips against yours.

You moaned just from his touch, “Need you- need you shoo bad daddy. Only you. I’ll be good- promise! I’ll be good!”

“Turn around then, you know what to do.”

Like instinct, you got your hands and knees on the couch. Gripping the back of it and lifting your ass in the air. Simon ripped your panties off, sliding two fingers inside your cunt to fetch the vibrator that had hiked up inside you. You moaned, lashes fluttering shut and body finally going limp from exhaustion once he pulled it out. Simon caught you though, gripping onto your cheeks from behind and squeezing them together.

“Ah, ah, ah, stay with me now doll, gotta give you what you asked for.”

And all you can do is take it because it’s truly what you need after he’s out you through the wringer. Daddy’s cock giving you a nice and hardy K.O.

“Biiiig stretch, come on baby, fuckin chokin me ‘ere.” He’s rocking into you, slow. Making sure you’re stuffed and every vein of his pulsing dick that was splitting you in half.

As soon as he’s fit himself fully inside your pussy, a smack lands on your bruised ass. You look back at him with those big doe eyes, so fuckin sexy, “Hurts pa.”

“I’m sorry doll,” Ghost crooned, hands trailing up and down the sides of your hips. “Didn’t mean to.” Force of habit.

Your bottom lip stuck itself out, eyebrows furrowing, “You’re lyin.”

That damned smirk can’t help but form on his lips, chuckling before slamming his hips into yours, “Fuck, you’re my pretty girl for a reason. Know me. so. damn. well.”

Simons jackhammering into your cunt, fast and incredibly rude thrusts into your velvety walls. So fucking big, you could see the budge forming in your stomach in your low eyes with every kiss Simon gave your uterus with the tip of his dick.

“I can- I can feel it, alllll the way in my throat pa,” your fucking blabbering whatever was coming to mind, drool starting to come out of your mouth. “ ‘mazin, so amazin daddy. Thank you, thank you,” Hearts were forming in your eyes.

“Tch, So fuckin stupid on my cock, a brainless kitty. You love it, don’t you sweetheart?”

You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head “Love it soooo m-much nnngh!”

Ghosts hand cums down to your puffy cunt, giving your clit a little flick with his fingers before slowly starting to rub it.

“ ‘M sensitive. It’s sensitive Daddy.” You mumbled, trying to push his hand away but all he did was rub harsher, cooing, “Shhhh, I knooow kid, it’s okay, lean into it.”

Your breath hitched, eyes widening as your stomach turned, you knew that feeling. Too strong, to powerful, too much— “No, ‘s too much-”

“-Cut it out [+],” Simons voice is sharp, it drops lower. the slouching of your sopping cunt and his precum getting louder by the second with every movement.

“The couch’ll get messyyy!” You mewled, You were kicking your legs, as if that would do anything with the position you were in.

Ghost grabbed you by the hair, tight, pulling you you into him, growling in your ear, “Then get it fuckin messy you filthy. bitch.”

And it’s like a guns gone off, you see every single white star forming in your eyes, your whole body shaking, fucking spraying the couch with your juices as you scream. Creaming all over Simons length, dripping down your thighs.

And Simon holds you against his chest, a tender kiss meets your forehead, “good girl, princess.”

a/n: celebrating 2k!!! Thank you everyone so so much!! I love youuuu stinkas🥺 I’m not all that confident in my work but at least one of you reads it. I’m greatful. In the words of Marge Simpson, “whoever you are, thank you🥺😘”

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