nkbee

[nkbee]

BLURB Konig

contains: rape, somnophilia

I can imagine a perverted König who finally got his hands on the gem he's been eyeing for years now. so small under his large hands that shamelessly roamed your sleeping body.

it wasn't difficult for him to pry open your locked window- you got a better security system after finding out someone had been stealing your things. panties, clothes, shampoos, jewelry. it may have been him.

könig had always had fantasies about fucking you awake. it's surreal that now it was finally going to happen.

he wasted no time sliding your panties down your legs and forcing his massive cock into your dry unprepared hole. it hurt. that's the first thing that came to your mind as it awoke from its slumber. it hurt so fucking bad.

you screamed and thrashed under him, lifting your hands and trying to beat on him with pathetic tears in your eyes but it didn't help. nothing did.

he was too strong, too big, too muscular, and wayy too desperate for you to let up his relentless and unstrategic thrusting.

big gloppy tears streamed down your face as your cries turned dry from your screaming. snot was running down your face when you gave up, just surrending to to the intruder.

könig whispered dirty and grotesque things in your ears from under that stupid hood he wore, and it made you sick. you just hid your face with your arms hoping- praying that he was almost done with you.

and god listened.

a few more rough sloppy thrusts that pushed the tip of his leaking cock against your cervix and the man was whimpering above you- filling your cunt with an overwhelming amount of his sticky semen.

dry heaving sobs came from your chest as he pulled out. just the feel of his cum leaking out of you was enough for bile to creep up your throat.

"one more," he said in that foul austrian accent of his, "one more time,"

and once again you were subjected to the bruising thrust of the intruder. there's was nothing you could do schatz, this was the work of his twisted desires and nothing would stop him.

after all, your just a small thing compared to him. you could never fight him off.

MASTERLIST

please do not copy or upload on any platforms without my permission

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED

[nkbee]

BLURB Konig

contains: rape, somnophilia

I can imagine a perverted König who finally got his hands on the gem he's been eyeing for years now. so small under his large hands that shamelessly roamed your sleeping body.

it wasn't difficult for him to pry open your locked window- you got a better security system after finding out someone had been stealing your things. panties, clothes, shampoos, jewelry. it may have been him.

könig had always had fantasies about fucking you awake. it's surreal that now it was finally going to happen.

he wasted no time sliding your panties down your legs and forcing his massive cock into your dry unprepared hole. it hurt. that's the first thing that came to your mind as it awoke from its slumber. it hurt so fucking bad.

you screamed and thrashed under him, lifting your hands and trying to beat on him with pathetic tears in your eyes but it didn't help. nothing did.

he was too strong, too big, too muscular, and wayy too desperate for you to let up his relentless and unstrategic thrusting.

big gloppy tears streamed down your face as your cries turned dry from your screaming. snot was running down your face when you gave up, just surrending to to the intruder.

könig whispered dirty and grotesque things in your ears from under that stupid hood he wore, and it made you sick. you just hid your face with your arms hoping- praying that he was almost done with you.

and god listened.

a few more rough sloppy thrusts that pushed the tip of his leaking cock against your cervix and the man was whimpering above you- filling your cunt with an overwhelming amount of his sticky semen.

dry heaving sobs came from your chest as he pulled out. just the feel of his cum leaking out of you was enough for bile to creep up your throat.

"one more," he said in that foul austrian accent of his, "one more time,"

and once again you were subjected to the bruising thrust of the intruder. there's was nothing you could do schatz, this was the work of his twisted desires and nothing would stop him.

after all, your just a small thing compared to him. you could never fight him off.

MASTERLIST

please do not copy or upload on any platforms without my permission

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED

[nkbee]

You want a request I'll give you a request 🫡

Could you please write a bihan x wife!reader where she gave birth to triplets? How our ice boy would react to it?

I'm alive-

Bi-han x Wife!Reader

Note: y'all I'm so sorry for being dead for like, idk, 4 months. I've had writers block and have been procrastinating HARD but I'm back now :)

When you first found out, safe to say he was discombobulated. Shocked. Frazzledazzled. And most of all, he's worried about you and how you'll manage. He'd definitely make you stay in bed when you're 4 months in. You have to carry the weight of 3 likely hefty babies, since he made sure you were well fed.

When the day arrives, my boy would be worried about you the most. You just pushed 3 babies out of you, are you okay? Of course he also cares about the babies, as daunting as it was to him that there are 3. Those are still his children, but you are also his wife. You'd come first.

He made sure to ask the doctors to keep track of which baby came out first so he knows which one is his heir. Whether they're a boy or girl, I don't think he cares.

He's much softer with you after you give birth, making sure to get the best doctors to take care of you and the babies.

He'd probably take the stressful task of finding baby names, and he might name one of the girls (if you have one) after his mother. But that's probably the only name he was positive about, the rest needed days to think over.

He's hopeful that at least the first born has his ice powers or whatever powers you have. He'd be a tad bit disappointed if they don't but he'll still keep them as his heir, since it is their birth right.

If all 3 of the babies are boys, he might be reminded of him, Kuai Liang, and Tomas. He'll become a little quiet after that.

He vowed to try and not end up like his father, because look at how that turned out-

Overall, a very attentive but terrified husband that doesn't know how he's gonna manage 3 babies

[nkbee]

self care is checking the logan howlett x reader tag 27 times a day

[nkbee]

Simon Riley becoming obsessed with you after a one night stand. CW : brief mentions of pussy eating, stalking, brief mentions of masturbation and hookups.

You had a great night with the brute you took home from the bar. He could throw you around and manhandle you, not to mention he was hung like a horse and actually knew where the clit was.

But that was that. You exchanged few words the following morning, and he left.

But you wouldn't leave his head. Every night Simon tried replicating your tight cunt with his hand. He remembered your moans and whines under him. How sweet and pathetic you cried.

And then Simon started spiralling. He started trying to find women on porn sites that resembled you, he started going to bars and sleeping with women who resembled you. And yet none of them could replicate what he had felt with you.

Simon got sick of it. He wanted needed you. So, he did the only rational thing.

He stalked you.

Simon ended up finding you easily. You were such an oblivious and stupid girl.

He stalked you for weeks. Until he cornered you in a bar and you recognised him. Taking him to your home once more.

Simon was desperate once you entered your apartment. His big hands pawing at your thighs and ass as he led you back to your bedroom. Your horny brain not taking a second to realise he shouldn't know the way to your bedroom based off of one hookup two months ago.

Simon slobbered at your pussy for almost an hour to make this night last. He wanted to ruin you for anyone else. And judging from your screams he was definitely doing a good job.

The following morning you expected Simon to be gone. But his muscular arms were tight around your waist. Holding you against him.

"Never letting you go again, bird"

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

[nkbee]

OCTOBER 10TH — BEST—FRIEND!SIMON. You knew something felt off, that lingering impending doom chasing you, ‘til it was all too late. (NON-CON)

2024 KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. (DAY 10)

You've known Simon Riley since childhood. He's your closest friend, someone who you confide in and care for. There aren't any secrets between you two, and despite being open and clearly too friendly with each other from time to time, you were still oblivious to his envious and sickening attitude towards your significant other.

He dreamt of having you all for himself, to cradle you in his strong arms and have his stubbled face peppered with sweet, hearted kills while his calloused and grimey hands travelled your figure, becoming familiar with your plush body once again after being neglected of your love and adoration. The thought of returning home to Manchester to lay in your arms with your fingers nestled and tangled in his locks of hair left Simon's jealousy worsening. He craved you, yearned to hold you close and for you to reiterate.

Upon returning back to Manchester after an agonisingly long and isolating three month deployment, he was quick to make a visit to you, the first place he'd visit, desperate to admire your beauty once again. Your significant other hadn't been home for quite a while either, far away and across countries on a work trip. Despite keeping in contact with them, you still felt alone, stranded, and lost. You craved that familiar and comforting warmth that they'd bring. Simon couldn't hold himself back from the opportunity laid out in front of him. It was a picture perfect scenario, everything he'd been fantasising of; night-time quickly approaching, isolated and alone, and missing your best friend.

Pouring you a drugged glass of wine wouldn't hurt, right? Don't you trust him, Birdie? Remember his promise to keep you safe?

You didn't suspect Simon of anything, believing he'd never jeopardise your life or put you in harm's way for his own sexual and perverse enjoyment. After all, you've known each other for multiple decades. You had no reason to fear Simon. Your gut feeling told you otherwise, nagging in your spinning and aching head ‘til you were clinging to Simon drunkenly, stumbling over your incoherent words, feeling his rough fingertips wander your plush thighs and explore every inch of your numb, limp body.

He'd thoroughly and selfishly enjoy himself between your plush legs, finally earning what he deserved for always being there for you, through thick and thin.

[nkbee]

Kinktober day 11: Somnophilia + breath play w/ Ghost

Cw: somnophilia, breathplay,chokehold, creampie, unprotected sex, tell me if I mised any.

-> kinktober masterlist -> navigation

You woke up with thinned breaths, back pressed against something big and warm, skin pulled taunt and sweaty in the cool autumn air. You huffed, squirming away from the furnace that pressed itself against you. You were hot, wet and aching, sticky with perspiration from head to toe, glistening under the low, moon light through the open window and uncomfortable.

Your eyes cracked open at a quiet grunt, blinking quickly to clear your blurry vision, you mumbled a croaky “what” at the rush of pain and pleasure rushing through you. Despite your many blinks, your vision stayed blurry, body shifting up and down on your bed and panting loudly. You mewled meekly, looking down, but all you could see was a thick mass of muscle, fat and bulging veins. Then it hit you, your mind cleared slowly and you connected the dots, remembering the little talk you had with Simon months ago.

“Mornin’, lovie,” the owner of the arm rasped, his breath brushing your ear.

You groaned out your greeting, toes curling at the sudden thrust, rocking you forward. Choking back a scream, you heard him shuffle, the arm around your throat tightening and pulled your head closer to his, nestled under his chin and body arched out. Locked in a chokehold, his big and bulging arm curled around your neck, Simon had you completely caged.

Throat bobbing with every shallow breath, tits bouncing with every hard thrust and hips rocking back into him, chasing your pleasure as best as you could with your leg hanging off his other arm, you cried out his name. You clenched around him, his cock pushing into your drooling cunt with a constant and strong pace. You always marveled at his strength, easily wooed by how strong he was, but his strong initiative about fucking you while you slept surprised you. Taking your breath away in both figurative and literal way, shaking your whole being with a few sharp drive, grunts pushed out of him with a gravelly tone. it made your core knot, rapture boiling within you.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he chuckled, words coming out much easier than your moans, full and panting.

You loved him, truly, with how willing he was with pleasing you. From how soft and caring to hard and mean he could get, from the pulsing veins running down his cock to his thick base, and from the patch of hair on his navel to the soft padding of fat on his abdomen, you loved his every scar and every memory. Something you always told him when you shared a vividly, hot moment in bed, entangled in each other’s arms and inches away from bursting, but all that left your lips were gasps and moans, and the occasional groans driven out of you with a deep, oscilating pump, the bulbous head of his girth kissing your cervix.

“Oh, lovie,” he cooed, his deep voice coming out as a rumbling sound, riling you up further, “You want to come, huh?”

You did your best to nod, and he laughed at it, the desperate way your head moved in his tight hold, silently pleading with him to let you come. He hummed and tightened his hold, stealing more of your breath away as he hit deeper and harder, thrusts sharp and precise, brushing past a sensitive spot before the leaky tip pressed into the gummy entrance of your womb.

Your nails sunk into his forearm, keening airily, hand sliding down to rub your swollen clit at the same pace as his thrusts, and with a few more bucks, you came. Head thrown back over his shoulder, slipping out from under his chin, he curled around you, rabbiting into you to chase both your orgasms, cum spurting from his throbbing cock. Grinding to a slow and steady roll of his hips, he rode it out as he peppered your cheek in loving kisses, painting your womb white with his load.

Arms growing slack, they eventually found their place over your waist. Both tired and satisfied, you naturally slumped into each other, slotting perfectly together like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Surprise, indeed.”

Simon laughed.

[nkbee]

Dating Yandere Hans Landa Would Include:

As a Yandere he is quite possessive, he'll do anything to make sure you're only his. He will find any excuse to be close to you, including using spying "techniques". he will get jealous over the simplest things, and he won't tolerate being away from you too long. He will do everything he can for your affection and attention.

His yandere tendencies would go a step further – he may display stalking behavior, keeping a very close eye on his love interest's every move, and may even resort to kidnapping to keep you all to himself. He'd try to isolate his love from others, wanting your complete attention and devotion, and could even become controlling, trying to dictate how you should behave and what you should wear.

He would constantly need reassurance from you and would need to be the center of your world. Any sign of perceived abandonment or rejection would cause him great distress and could lead to irrational and potentially harmful behavior like stalking, harassment, or even physical violence. He would try to isolate his love interest from friends and family and could become increasingly controlling over your actions and decisions. His intense devotion and possessiveness could border on suffocating for you.

Hans could also display controlling and manipulative behavior to ensure you stay loyal to him. He might try to control your social interactions, activities, and even your career or education choices to keep you under his influence. His jealousy and possessiveness could lead him to demand constant communication and attention, and he might even resort to stalking or surveillance to keep tabs on his love interest's whereabouts and activities.

As a yandere, Hans also has a bad tendency to control and manipulate his love interest. He could try to dictate your actions, decisions, and even your appearance and opinions to maintain control in the relationship. He'd likely be highly critical and dismissive of any feelings or opinions that don't align with his own and could use guilt or shame to keep you compliant. He could also be prone to emotional and verbal abuse. He's also prone to violent or harmful actions if he feels threatened or possessive.

He exhibits obsessive behavior, always needing to know where you are and who you are with. He could try to constantly check in on you, monitor your activities, and even try to sabotage any potential relationships or friendships that could interfere with your own. He might also exhibit extreme jealousy and possessiveness, which could lead to lashing out at anyone he perceives as a threat to the relationship. He would be reluctant to let you out of his sight and might use controlling tactics to keep you close to him.

He has extreme mood swings and emotional instability. He could switch between being intensely happy and loving one moment, to becoming explosive, angry, or even paranoid the next. He would be susceptible and reactive, and his emotions could swing wildly in response to even minor things that he perceives as a threat to his love. He would have a hard time managing his own emotions, and might constantly seek reassurance and validation from his love interest to feel reassured and secure in the relationship

He has a twisted sense of love and might try to convince you that you are completely dependent on him. He engages in gaslighting or emotional manipulation to make you doubt your own feelings or actions, making you more dependent on him. He would constantly need reassurance and would try to keep you under his control by using threats or blackmail to keep you from leaving him.

As a yandere, he has a tendency to be very dependent on you emotionally and psychologically. He could rely on you as a primary source of comfort and support, becoming extremely upset or unstable if you are not available to fulfill his need for attention. He could be excessively clingy and demanding, requiring your undivided attention, and become extremely jealous if you spend time with anyone else.

He likely prioritizes taking you out on romantic and elaborate dates to make you feel special and appreciated. He would go above and beyond to plan the perfect outing, like candlelit dinners or private boat rides. He might also have a tendency to be excessively controlling or protective during these dates, making sure no one else interferes with your time together and only allowing you to interact with people he approves of.

Hans would likely use gifts and rewards to reinforce your positive behavior and to express his affection for you. He might even go overboard, gifting you expensive and extravagant gifts to demonstrate his devotion. On the other hand, he could also be prone to withholding rewards or even using them as a weapon during conflicts. He could threaten to take them away as a way to control your behavior and make you compliant with his demands.

He would likely have a tendency to use punishments as a means of exerting control and disciplining you. He might become hostile, violent, or resort to verbal abuse when he perceives that you have disobeyed or upset him in some way. He could also try to control your behavior by imposing restrictions, such as limiting your freedom or access to things that bring you joy. He might even threaten severe consequences if you don't comply with his expectations or demands.

He would be extremely sensitive and reactive to conflicts or arguments with you. He would likely struggle with dealing with disagreements and become easily defensive or hostile. He might also resort to emotional manipulation or guilt-tripping to make you feel bad and take responsibility for the conflict. He could use his knowledge of your weaknesses and insecurities against you to win arguments or get his way.

Hans would likely put on a charming and charismatic front in public, he would have a possessive and controlling demeanor when interacting with you. He would also be very protective and territorial when it comes to the relationship and might become hostile or confrontational if he perceives that anyone else is threatening or trying to interfere.

He would exhibit a mix of intense affection and manipulative behavior. He might shower you with praise, gifts, and demonstrations of his devotion, and be very attentive and romantic. However, this affection could also be used to control and manipulate you, as he would expect you to return his affection in equal measure and might become upset or angry if you do not reciprocate in the way he expects.

If you wanted to break up, Hans in yandere mode would likely react fiercely. He might refuse to accept the breakup, trying to change your mind through emotional manipulation, guilt-tripping, threats, or even physical violence. He could also threaten to hurt himself or others if the break-up went through, and might become extremely vengeful or destructive in response to the rejection. He might also try to manipulate his partner with promises of love, attention, and devotion in an attempt to keep you from leaving.

He would likely be very invested in the idea of marriage, as it is a symbol of ultimate commitment and possession. He might be very determined to marry you, even if it means resorting to manipulation, pressure, or trickery to make it happen. He might be very controlling in planning the wedding and could try to manipulate his partner into agreeing to a wedding that suits his own desires rather than your own. He would likely expect his partner to be completely devoted and loyal to him in marriage and might be very possessive and jealous of anyone who interferes with the relationship.

Hans would likely be very focused on the idea of having children with his love interest as a way of cementing and solidifying the bond and relationship. He might be very determined to have children with you, even if it means resorting to manipulation, pressure, or trickery to make it happen. He might also see children as a way to keep you dependent and emotionally attached to him, which further reinforces his desire to have children. He would likely expect his partner to be fully committed to your new role as a parent and expects you to prioritize the family over anything else.

If you were unable or unwilling to have children, he as a yandere would likely react extremely negatively. He might try to manipulate or pressure you into changing your mind, making you feel guilty or inadequate for being unable to have children. He might also blame himself and become very distressed, feeling like he is unable to create the perfect family unit that he desires. He could also become very jealous of other families and resentful towards you. In extreme cases, he might resort to violence or threats to enforce his desire to have children.

"I will do anything for you. I will kill for you. I will die for you. You are the light of my life, the air that I breathe. You are my world, my everything. I will never let anyone hurt you. I will never let anyone touch you. You are mine and mine alone. No one else deserves you but me."

Hair pulling - Yanking on your hair during sex adds an element of roughness and intensity that he craves. It's a way for him to exert control over you and mark you as his.

Bondage - Tying you up and leaving you helpless is a great way to show his dominance and control. Seeing you struggle against your restraints only fuels his arousal further.

Verbal degradation - Nothing turns him on more than hearing you beg for mercy while he degrades you. Hearing you plead for relief and call him names only fuels his desire to continue tormenting you.

Orgasm denial - Making you reach the brink of orgasm but denying you release is a sadistic pleasure of his. The frustration and desperation you experience only fuels his arousal further.

Gagging - He loves seeing you struggle to breathe as his cock forces its way deeper into your throats. The sound of your choked gasps, and the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks is incredibly erotic.

[nkbee]

Ex-Husband|Simone Riley - Pt. 5

tw: none... this is my happy ending☺️

A few weeks had passed after that day. You hadn't spoken to Simon much other than when he texted you once a week just to ask if you were doing alright. You had yet to open the letter he gave you.

Why?

Well a part of it was because you hadn't forgiven him yet... but the other part?... you were just scared of what it was going to say.

Every night when you got home from work, showered, and sat on the couch, you glanced down at the damn thing sitting on the coffee table. You debated on opening it, but somehow, you'd always talk yourself out of it. The anxiety in your heart was going to send you into a damn panic attack just because it was in your sight. It worried you even more that Simon hadn't asked to talk to you or see you in those weeks.

Another two weeks went by, and eventually, one night after you got home late from work, you decided the time was now to open it. Sure, you hadn't forgiven Simon fully, but the anticipation was killing you slowly.

Your hands trembled as you read over the letters carefully. Every awful thought, every terrifying nightmare, every painful memory of Simon was poured into his writing. He spoke of his past like never before... some of the things that happened to him that he never spoke of, him wanting to keep it so much a secret. But what captured your heart the most was his commitment to attending therapy. He wanted to truly work on himself - his emotions - so that he could be a better person.... for you. He begged you to forgive him, even asking for another chance to be with you. He promised that he would do better; be better. Because you deserved the world, and he was going to give you the entire universe. But he also stated how he would understand if you didn't. He knew there was a real good chance that you wouldn't take him back, but that small bit of hope kept him pleading to you.

After reading the letter over and over and over, you fell asleep with it in your hand. Your alarm the next morning woke you up, your eyes fluttering open and going directly to the crumbled up papers still clutched in your grip.

Distraction couldn't even describe your mind for the entire day as you sat at your desk, zoning out while staring at the computer screen. The only thing on your mind was that fucking letter.

Pulling out your purse, you fumbled in it to find your phone. You needed to text Simon... to ask if you could see him. Before you hit the send button, you paused....

Would he even respond? Was he on a mission? Was it the best time to text him?

Fuck it.

If he didn't respond, then maybe it was a sign. But you knew better... as soon as you sent the message, not even a minute later he was sending one back.

Yeah sweetheart

That goddamn stupid pet name made a tiny smile form on your lips, and you had to stop yourself from getting too excited. It was just a conversation.

************************************************************************

After work, you met Simon at restaurant... it was the first restaurant where the two of you decided to get drinks together for the very first time.

Why did you pick that place?

Well......... you figured talking in public would help you not shout or cry. And maybe a glass of wine from there would help ease the tension in your body. You were nervous - arguably so. Simon had texted you saying he was running 5 minutes late.... work held him up as usual. However, you weren't upset at all... you never had been upset about his job. After all, he was saving the world more times than he wasn't, and you were always proud of him for it.

"Sorry m'late. Had to finish up somethin for Price," his voice said as he sat down in the booth across from you.

You warmly smiled, taking a sip of the wine to stop yourself from saying anything stupid, "It's fine."

The waiter approached the table, asking if he wanted anything to drink. He glanced at the wine glass in your hand before ordering a Bourbon.

One of your legs bounced under the table as your hands fiddled with the glass. You didn't know how to start off the conversation at first but then asked how work had been. He answered you with short but thoughtful answers. You knew he never went into detail about what he did, but there was a slight change in the way he described something that happened earlier that day. It had your eyes widen a little....... he actually opened about work a little.

The waiter brought the drink to the table, placing it in front of Simon before scurrying off to the next patrons in the restaurant. He lifted his balaclava above his nose, taking a sip of the brown liquid before lowering it back down. Somehow, that pulled you into a trance.... you almost forgot what it was like being out in public with him. You missed it.

"I read the letter," you blurted out, making his eyes lock on yours, "Last night. I read it."

He didn't respond. He just stared at you for what felt like the longest time. The thought that he wouldn't respond flashed in your mind before you saw his jaw move.

"Wrote it the night I came over."

"The whole thing?" you asked, making him nod, "I-I... don't know what to say."

He leaned forward a little, "Say how y'feel sweetheart."

You paused, thinking about your real feelings. You had been thinking about them since you read his words.

"I miss you," you whispered out like you were afraid he would get up from the table if he heard you.

But it was far from it. The tiny smirk that formed on his lips stayed hidden behind the mask, but god, did he want you to see it.

"Miss you to love."

"A-and... I wanna try again...with you," he almost opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, "But I'm scared, Simon. I'm so scared.... You have to promise me that you'll try to do better."

He gently grabbed your hand, "I promise sweetheart. I swear," he chuckled, "Been goin to therapy. Figurin out what's wrong with me. But I want to do better for you. For us."

You nodded, quickly wiping away the lone tear that fell, "Okay."

"Yeah?" he asked, a smile evident in his voice. It made you giggle... something he hadn't heard in a long time and oh how did he crave to hear it again.

Nodding again, "Yes Simon. But-" you said, making his halt his thoughts, "-I want take things slow."

"Anything y'want love. Promise."

************************************************************************

If you had to tell yourself three years ago that you and Simon would be happily married again, you would have thought it was a flat-out lie. Getting back with him seemed so far from your grasp that it felt like a distant dream.

But your dream was a reality; a beautiful one.

As promised, your - now husband - took things as slow as you wanted. Even when he fussed to himself (Johnny) about you not moving back in the house right away.

"Aye Lt. She's givin ya a chance. Calm down," he told his lieutenant.

He grunted, but knew the Scot was right. So he remained patient... especially when you nervously eased into his embrace for the first time since the two of you got back together.

It was after a long day at work; you were stressed. All you wanted to do was crash on the bed, but he was right there to make sure you at least had dinner. When you finally crawled into the king size bed you had began loving once again, his large frame took the spot next to you as he did every night... except this time you lifted his arm before quickly - and albeit awkwardly - curling into his side, instantly falling asleep.

His muscles tensed - just lightly - before the wide grin spread across his lips. He kissed your forehead, closing his eyes as he fell asleep after you... not before silently thanking the heavens above to have you in his arms again.

Those three years were more than just a beautiful reality. It was a miracle.

A dream come true.

The complaints and painful groans as you pushed out your little baby had Simon in complete awe of the life you brought into the world.

His little girl.

Of course, once the two had developed those intimate moments again, that positive pregnancy test soon followed. The small touches from him when he caressed your cheeks or his lingering fingers on your back when he hugged you made your stomach flip. It was no surprise when those tiny kisses that were innocent turned heated one night.

The thought that you'd get pregnant again after the first time you all made love had him going out to buy a bigger ring to place on your finger once again. He was so ready to make you officially his; officially Mrs. Riley again.

He promised you and his daughter that nothing would break up his family. Not even his job as he turned in the paperwork to retire early. His teammates couldn't have been more proud of him.

Simon Riley.

Your (not) ex-husband.

Yeah so that's it for this little series. . . . . . . . for now maybe. Idk lol! I don't even know how to continue this story honestly (or maybe I do???????) Again... those on my taglist will be notified whenever I continue this

I'm so glad you all enjoyed reading this!!!🥹 Please check out my other stories if you haven't.. I think yall will enjoy them!

@maskedbyghost - Thank you for inspiring me to write this! If you all haven't checked out her page, please do so!! I love her writing!!!!!

-Daydreamer🩵

Taglist: @romanceloverrrr @jessicab1991 @bdbdhshhs @jajouska @nicolebarnes @blacpiink @myboyfriendisbigfoot @avalkyrieofparis @darkravenqueen98 @esposadomd @skzthinker @echo9821 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @fallinallinmendes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @19freeta @scaleniusrm @t-virusx @hepprine @laduenadelswing

[nkbee]

I'm over you(not)

𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been always, and always trying to get your fellow squad member to like you, but with the man masked with a skull having walls placed around him, you began to lose hope, thinking that he'd never feel the same way.

Until he shows up at your quarters one midnight, drunk and vulnerable.

Warnings: MDNI, Cursing, Alcohol-Taking, Very short.

For nearly a year, you’d tried to break down Simon's walls. You’d looked for every crack in his guarded silence, tried to coax him out of his steel shell. But he kept you at arm’s length.

He was never harsh, but always guarded, like a fortress unwilling to let you in. And slowly, it broke something inside of you, a small ache that grew with each brush-off and silent stare, she felt like it was a sinking ship, never meant to go further than whatever it just reached.

Each effort turned into hurt and eventually, you stopped trying. Feeling lost in the turmoil of each interaction you and Simon did that ran through your head, trying to think of times that he just outright just showed you that he wasn't interested, but it was a mix of yes and no's, and it just got too much, so she just stopped.

Stopped asking him about his favorite‘s.

Stopped looking for him in the hallways. Stopped lingering in the mess hall hoping for one of his rare half-smiles.

The looks, the small gestures, the unspoken connection; it all faded as you pulled back, leaving whatever had sparked between you to die in silence as you hide your growing storm inside your room, every sleepless nights, every tear shed into the difficult analysis of how would she get over it? Even worse, how would she face him?

But tonight, as you sat alone in your quarters, lost in the comfort of solitude, a sudden knock shattered the quiet. You froze as a muffled, slurred voice drifted through the door. Simon.

“Please… open up, [name].”

You recognized that voice. Heart pounding, you swung open the door to find Simon on the other side of the door.

He was visibly intoxicated, swaying slightly, eyes glassy and unfocused beneath his mask. His hands trembled as he reached out to brace himself against the doorframe, shoulders slumped, his usually commanding presence crumbling.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, words thick and slurred, his voice heavy with regret. He slumped lower, almost falling to his knees, clutching the doorframe as if it were the only thing anchoring him.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours, and the pain in them nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Every wound he’d unknowingly carved into you was raw and open again.

“Please… don’t shut me out. I can’t—” His voice broke again, desperation flooding his words as he reached for your hand, grip clumsy but desperate, fingers cold against your skin.

“Please… don’t leave me like this, l’m begging you.”

"Simon.." She stared at him with narrowing eyes, though it was out of conflict rather than pure anger.

He made her have many sleepless nights, crying herself to sleep, in a spiraling abyss that she didn't even think she could've gone out, and just as when she thought she did, he drags her back in it once more.

"You're drunk."

He took another wobbly step towards you, his hand still heavily on your shoulder, his fingers digging into your skin. He stumbled again, his balance completely off, his eyes unfocused, the smell of whiskey heavy on his breath.

"No," he insisted, voice slurred but firm, "Need to... talk. Can't take it... anymore."

He leaned further into your frame, trying to steady himself, his fingers gripping you tighter, as if he was scared you'd try to leave.

"Simon please- its late." She insisted, her hand grasping his wrist, the touch felt electrifying, and she yearned his coldness, as much as she despised it. She needed him, but could she really fix it with him? Could he just fix it with drunken apologies?

His voice caught in his throat as he felt the touch of your hand on his wrist, a sharp inhale followed by a shiver that ran through his body.

He leaned further into you, his body pressed against yours now, his head nearly resting on your shoulder. In his drunken stupor, his defenses were shattered, his touch no longer distant or cold.

"Please," he murmured, his breath hot on your skin, "Please... I need..."

He didn't or couldn't finish his thought, his hand gripping your shoulder tighter as if he was afraid you'd disappear.

And so she succumbs.

It was always the same fucking thing every time.

Now she laid on the bed, while he clutched desperately against her frame, head hidden between the crook of her neck, fast asleep from the alcohol, holding like a damn sloth on a tree for dear life.

Oh how was she in so much turmoil right now.

He slept deeply and with near-childlike vulnerability, his body pressed against yours, his head tucked into the crook of your neck. He held onto you tightly like a child clutching a toy, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt, his breathing slow and steady.

Despite being in an intoxicated state, the tension in his body seemed to melt away in your embrace. His features, normally hardened and stoic, softened in sleep, and for once, he looked utterly unguarded.

It felt like a dream, a twisted, painfully yearned-for dream.

Staring at his sleeping form for a while, she soon as well let herself be grasped by sleep.

Waking up to an empty bedside the next day.

The next morning, you woke up to find the space beside you cold and empty.

Ghost was gone, as if he had never been there. The only evidence of his presence was a slight indent on the mattress, a silent reminder of his absence.

The memories of the night before flooded back to you, the drunken ramblings, the mumbled apologies, the desperate grip of his hand on your shoulder. But where was he now?

Only a message on her phone gave her just a wee-bit of explanation from him.

——————————————————————————

[Simon]: I want you in my quarters after the debriefing.

[Simon]: Its about time I come clean.

[Simon]: Please.

[nkbee]

"I hate you."

He's expressive around you, despite the mask that hides his face. The look of utter confusion and aching hurt that settles in his beautiful eyes nearly guts you.

"What is going on, love. Please. Talk to me." His voice is so soft it makes you want to crawl into his arms and kiss him until his eyes are happy and soft again.

"I don't ever want to see you again. I hate you. I hate you, Simon."

The words cut deep but he doesn't believe you. No yet. Simon knows you too well. You neet to hit harder. Where it hurts so he'll leave.

So your stomach doesn't have to turn with the knowledge that a sniper rifle is aimed at his head right now.

"I hate you. I only ever was with you to get a look behind your mask. See what you're hiding. And it's hideous. You're just like your father."

"Lovie, you... you can't mean that. Tell me what's going on... I need- " He's taking a desperate step towards you.

"Stop!", you shriek and he falters. "You scare me. I don't want you here. I don't want you. Never did, only pretended because I was scared of what you'd do if I didn't stay."

You never knew that you'd be the one breaking both your hearts. It seems wrong that you can't hear the deafing sound of them collampsing and crumbling to pieces.

The moment it hits him is unmistakable. Simons eyes harden and you see him fight himself. You know the hurt and doubt you just scratches open with your fingernails.

Old wounds that you spent hours stitching up, torn open at your words. And yet you dug your nails as deep as possible. Clawing at his tender and fragile until you turned it jagged and sharp through just one conversation.

You hit the one place that overrides his rationality with emotions. He holds up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Gentle, always gentle.

His eyes suddenly look ancient, haunted. Like an old house that was left empty for so long that it welcomes any spirits because at least they're company. Simon's eyes are looking through you, unfocused.

"I'll leave now."

You nod, the fear in your eyes not even part of the charade when he turns to leave.

The scream of agony that claws it's way up your throat with unyielding claws dies when you bite your own tongue hard enough to draw blood. Anything to stop yourself from calling out to him. To stop yourself from begging him to come back. From apologizing.

There's a faint click in your hidden earpiece. "That's a good girl, didn't even have to blow his brains out. But we all know I'm very trigger happy. You know what comes next."

[nkbee]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[nkbee]

[nkbee]

tw: emotional neglect, military inaccuracies, one sided relationship, sex, cursing, not necessarily unwanted sex, but not encouraged

You told him.

Over and over.

If he didn’t stop treating you like a maid and fuck buddy, you were done.

“Simon, you didn’t do the dishes like I asked and now I have to do them before I can get started on dinner,” you chastise, moving dishes around so you can get them done. His team was coming over for dinner that night, but he’d made no move to help you.

“Ah, I forgot. ‘M sorry,” he called from the couch, eyes still glued to the game flashing across the screen. You huffed and got to work, mentally creating a list of everything that would need done before the guys arrived in…four hours. Great, you had to shower too. 

Only once you’d finished the dinner and were getting into the shower, did Simon finally rise from the couch. He pushed his way in, joining you in the shower. His massive hands found your hips before sliding between your legs, searching for the little bundle of nerves.

Oh, now he wanted to pay attention to you? “Come on, luvie. Let me feel your tight cunt on my cock. I know how much you love my cock,” Simon grunted against your ear, his fingers dancing over the most intimate parts of you. And you let him.

Let him take what he wants because at least, he’s paying attention to you, right? You sigh as he slides into you, feeling the familiar burn and stretch. It’s quick and dirty. He pulls out to shoot his seed between your legs and down the drain. You don’t finish and climb out of the shower to let him finish in peace. 

You stand in front of your closet, opting for a black dress that flaunts your curves but still allows you comfort. Stepping out of the bathroom, fully nude as he uses a towel to dry his hair, he grunts when he glances at you but makes no effort to compliment or even really look at you. 

“I thought I asked you to do the laundry. You know I have that court marshal and Price will have my head if I don’t look presentable,” Simon rants from the bedroom, looking for the ONE button up he owns that he wore earlier in the week to a meeting with some big wigs that the higher ups wanted them to meet. 

The issue was that you were currently bedridden and unable to leave the bed for more than a few minutes to use the restroom or grab food. You’d been laid up with a case of pneumonia that led to bronchitis, making breathing difficult, let alone doing your boyfriend’s laundry. 

You didn’t answer him, rolling away from the closet and curling into yourself. He’d not even been taking care of you, citing that he couldn’t afford to get sick. What if he needed to be deployed, but he was stuck in bed because he was taking care of you? His reasoning was fair, but you were his girlfriend. Shouldn’t he be more worried about getting you well?

It was Simon’s last night home before being sent on a mission. You weren’t privy to where he was going or how long he’d be gone, but that was normal. Something you’d adjusted to when you started dating the man. 

Normally, he’d at least stay home with you the night before. Maybe a movie or something before he’d fuck you into the mattress for three minutes, leaving you unsatisfied. But he tried right? 

This time though, he was throwing his leather jacket on and grabbing the keys to his bike. “You’re seriously going out with the guys you’re shipping out with instead of staying home with me?” you cried, tears slipping down your cheeks as you finally broke from the quiet ways he neglected you. 

“Sorry. They wanted to have a good night of drinking before we’re forced to be sober for weeks on end,” he reasoned, barely even giving you a glance before coming over to kiss the top of your head then disappear out the door. 

The door clicked shut and you heard the key turn in the lock. 

When Simon returned two months later to an empty flat and all of your things missing, he was stunned. Finding the note and your copy of the flat key laying on the coffee table had him collapsing on the couch as he stared at the two sentence note you'd left. He’d taken you for granted for too long, neglected you when you deserved the world. 7 words to shatter his world.

“Don’t come looking for me. I’m done.” 

[nkbee]

toxic ex bf simon who sends you sweet lil vidzz

pt. two

your heart perks, before soaring into the depths of your stomach when the soft pad of your thumb hits the light gray button. and the video starts, playing for you like a record on command.

it’s him. simon. but he’s not his usual dark, brood stature of a man. no he’s laid back, hand wrapped around the pretty base of his cock, pinky and ring finger laid over the soft of his balls.

“i want you,” he speaks, muted slightly from the distance he sits from the phone, eyes trained on the camera. “i miss you, baby, please?”

and his begging comes to a close, hand smoothing up the skin of his girthy length, and his chest shudders, muscles contracting as he pleases himself just for you.

and you’re watching in something of awe and disgust. taking in the video, studying him, his body. there’s new gashes, bone noticeable beneath his thick skin. he’s dropped pounds, face looking something of a tired wreck.

“i can’t move on, honey, i need you.” he huffs, voice strained as if he can barely even begin to speak the words. it’s like he’s reeling through the phone at you, hitting you in the heart and between your sweet legs with his fuzzy words.

“fuckin’ miss you so bad, come back to me, cmon, baby,” he’s gasping, thick fingers working their way up and down, up and down his cock in a quick, steady pace.

and when you look closely, you can see the crystaly tears that drip down his cheeks, glinting and sparkling beneath the dim light. it has you reaching into your panties, has your knees shifting together in a race of goosebumps.

“call me, baby, lemme talk to you, promise im different, ill be better for you, sweet girl.” and when you hear the grit of words, your finger swipes, before tapping the lil phone button on the top to send him a call.

we all been here?

[nkbee]

need mean simon ….

omfg me too girl . . me too

- simon who is holding your face so tightly while making out and biting your lip. it’s aggressive. it’s primal. he’s got his rough and heavy fingers digging into the bone of your jaw - you were certain he could break if he really tried.

he pulls back from the kiss, not to look at you in awe but to slap your cheek and growl at you. “you like that you dirty bitch? you like bein’ a whore for me to play with, don’t you?”

only to delve right back into what he was doing before. the hand that slapped you grabbing you again the same way. teeth hitting one another as your mouth opens in an attempt to match with the same vigor he has.

- simon who has zero problem spanking you too hard. it’s not some playful thing where you know he’ll rub and console the red welts afterwards. no, he likes to watch the way you squeal and yelp. reminds him he’s in power, because he’s always in power.

his hand even burns after the twenty or thirty harsh slaps he gives the plush fat of your ass. you’re whimpering and whining while the skin on your backside and the top of your thighs just burns. it’s red and bruised, it even looks like blood is starting to come to the surface in little specks.

“don’t you ever talk to me that way again, do you hear me?!” he barks. he pushes you off of his lap, leaving you laying on the ground to comfort the pain and ache.

- simon who takes pleasure in seeing those salty and glossy tears well up in those pretty eyes. he loves you, he really really does - but toxicity bleeds from him. he likes knowing you’re wrapped around his finger and always going to be running back to him.

my favorite version of this is an unrequited love sort of deal.

simon’s just a two hallways away on base. you’re a sweet and adorning medic who always wants to be needed, will do anything to get a gentle reciprocated smile. it’s comforting and warm.

your heart just aches for the lieutenant on ts141 . . . price is always so kind and sweet, and honest - he tells you to stay away from him and that it’s not a good idea. but you’re a big girl, you can make those decisions on your own.

it’s just a lesson she’s going to have to learn, price thinks to himself.

you have to learn that his heart doesn’t run on the same wavelength yours does. that his takes and ravishes while yours gives and yearns.

it doesn’t matter than he only pays attention to you past eleven pm. it doesn’t matter that he never lets you stay in his bed for too long. or it doesn’t matter that he never cares enough to even give you time to find your lost panties before he’s shooing you out of his private quarters.

what does matter is that he’s at least asking for you. he at least needs you in some way. even if it’s purely physical.

it’s better to keep one sweet and consistent girl around rather than fifteen pre-used new ones.

c.ai bot link for the last prompt -> 🐇

[nkbee]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him