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Your Simon

Simon Riley x reader (gn I'm 99% sure)

TW: toxic!Simon, whump, captivity, psychological torture(?), kidnapping, yandere!Simon, maybe don't read this if you're only comfortable with fluff and light smut... even though there no smut in this (maybe I'll add an epilogue or sm idk)

Approx 2k words, random drabble. wrote this at 4 am, un-betad. Let's not nitpick, yeah? Cool.

Simon knew you were fragile, but he didn’t think you could be so easy to break. This was his third deployment since he’d met you. The third since he’d pulled you into his life. At first you’d been panicked, indignant and ungrateful. You didn’t understand the significance of his actions. Every detail meticulously planned out, every minute aspect of your stay without him accounted for. You just had to stop fighting him and start fighting for yourself. Fight to stay alive, just like him. He just wanted to share this with you, why wouldn’t you let him?

“Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be back in no time. You won’t even get a chance to miss me.” His hand stayed on the back of your head, fingers locked in your hair, holding your head up so you could look into his eyes. So you could watch him lie to you. You knew the routine well at this point. 

First the devil may care Ghost would ply you with cheeky taunts to smooth out your concern. His abrasiveness would wear you down, polish you into a reflection of himself. 

Despite yourself you began to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. In the beginning it wasn’t him you had missed. It was the promise of regular meals, and fresh water. Baths. Heating. Freedom. Now he was the centre of your world. He was your everything. 

While he was deployed you didn’t know how long you’d be left to stew in your own sweat and the grime of the basement he’d thrown you in. The smell of dust and mold hung heavy in the air down here. Soon the smell of your body would join them creating a fetid blend that would stay in your nostrils for weeks after your release. If you lived that long. The single hanging bulb barely illuminating your surroundings, not that there was much to see.  

Gallons of water lined one of the walls, at least a dozen of them neatly tucked from one dusty corner to another. You’d count them in earnest when he left you. Your mind was to panicked now to begin the frantic calculations of how long you could stretch your supplies. Just in case. 

Two boxes of hardtack biscuits and cans of god only knew what were neatly pressed up against another.  At times you feared he’d been feeding you cat food. You’d opened cans of greying meat floating in gelatinous gravy, other times the cans contained some kind of soup. Either way you’d choke it down cold. 

A part of you loved it here, you felt closer to him. You were a soldier too. This is where you’d live or die. Your battlefield.

His hand left your head and he went to the centre of the room where a small metal cot with a thin mattress stood. No pillow or duvet, but at least he’d given you a thick itchy woollen blanket. Army surplus to complete your private barracks. You’d earned the cot after weeks of good behaviour, no crying, no useless begging, no disobedience. A luxurious upgrade from the sheets of cardboard he’d left you to sleep on during his previous deployments. You followed before he even turned to call you, taking a seat on the mattress. 

“Will you miss me, pet?” He asked, coaxing your chin up with a gloved finger. 

“Yes, of course” you said between sobs. He huffed out a humourless laugh, and stroked your head. 

He hardly had to grind you down anymore, soon Ghost gave way to Simon. The mask he wore over his soul fell away, leaving behind the raw and broken boy he’d been before he learnt being someone else was as easy as covering his face. Part two of your dance begun.

The tears you thought you’d controlled began to fall again, pouring out of your tired eyes as you looked up at him. Your protector and captor. The man who told you everyday he’d die without you, the same man who held your life in his hands. 

“Please, please, Si… don’t forget about me here. Please.” The last word came out as a choked sob as you pressed your face against his thighs. Begging him to let you go was useless. You knew the steps now. Let him lead you, let yourself need him. Let him have something to control, someone who wouldn’t disappoint him. Someone he didn’t have to pretend with, unless he wanted to. 

“All you have to do is survive, pet. Same as me.” He knelt down in front of you, dark eyes shining with a mania that told you he was past pleading with. “All we have to do is survive. Think of me while you’re fighting in here, yeah? And I’ll be thinking of you out there. You’ll think of me won’t you? Hmm?” 

You nodded. 

“So say it.” 

Gathering yourself, you pulled away from him, eye to eye it was easier to believe the words that tumbled out of your mouth. 

“I’ll be thinking of you Si, so please, please,” your voice began to quake with unshed tears, “please come back to me. I’ll die without you.” 

You knew he was smiling beneath his mask. His hands came up to cradle your head, his grip too tight to be anything but a reminder of the control he had over you. 

“Of course you would. We need each other, don’t we?” 

You nodded and said your well rehearsed line. “We love each other.”

He watched you weep for a while, and you knew a part of him felt sick with himself. If he returned, if you lived, he’d tell you as much when he came home. 

The realisation that this was your home hit harder down here, puling more tortured sobs out of you as he watched. You weren’t sure if the ragged breaths you heard were yours or his. 

“Simon, Simon” you chanted his name over and over as you cried, like a prayer to a long dead god. He stood above you, within reach. One touch and you’d know he was real. But you cried out his name, and he watched. Until watching became too much and the sound of his name was punctuated with the sound of his boots ascending the stairs. 

The sound of a key turning.

And then the silence. 

— — — 

You counted the days by litres of water, cold canned meals, and fitful slashes sleep. 

One of each a day. 

No cheating. 

You recited songs in your mind, the lyrics painted dark by the deep gravely voice of your thoughts. Simon’s voice. 

You imagined a life with Simon, a life different from this. Those dreams were all that kept you sane. If this was sanity. 

A life with sunshine and tenderness that didn’t have to be earned. With music and hot food, baths together. The warmth of his body against yours. Every dream began and ended with the sound of a key turning, the creak of the old cellar door, deep lungfuls of fresh air. 

After meals and before sleep you’d press your nose to the tiny blacked out window. Taking deep breaths of the English countryside before closing it again. Air when were awake, warmth when you slept. These rules and rituals were what kept you alive here. Hell was rolling green hills and cloudy skies. Hell had no one around for miles. Hell and home were two sides of the same coin.

The same countryside he’d offered to show you when you’d first began dating him. You recounted those first few dates with him often. Combing your mind for any sign of the man he’d turn out to be. 

It had been too soon for a weekend away, you told yourself this time and time again. Turning your captivity against yourself in your darkest moments was a game you hated but still played. What fool would take a trip with a man they barely knew.? You hadn’t even known him for two full months when you went away with him. Your 6th date. This may have been the longest date in history. 

Sometimes you thought of your friends and your family. Were they worried? Were the little dribs and drabs of communication Simon let you have with them enough to keep them satiated. Had they stopped caring, like Simon said they would. 

He often told you the family a person was born into was rarely their true family. Like his. You knew pieces of the life he rarely spoke about. The father he hated, the mother he pitied. The brother he held complex, painful feelings for. You hardly heard about him at all. You suspected he was the only person outside of the 141 Simon cared about. Maybe the only person he truly loved. 

Did he love you? Actually love you?

Could he? 

Another litre, another can.  Another day. 

— — — 

The creak of the old cellar door woke you, as usual. You’d long since stopped running up the steps when you heard it, not trusting your mind to be honest with you. 

“Baby? Are you awake, Love?” 

You didn’t believe it. You couldn’t. The disappointment would hurt to much. 

The sound of heavy boots descending the stairs drew something out of you, but yet you still couldn’t let yourself believe it was real. That you had survived. Again. 

Warm fingers caressed your cheek, tracing the shape of your eyes and nose, until they finally settled on your neck, below your jaw. A beat passed in tense silence, you could still be dreaming.

A shaky breath that wasn’t yours filled the room, “thank god.” You opened your eyes, and he was there. A dark figure against the light, stoic among the swirling flecks of dust in the air. 

“Si?” Your voice was weak and hoarse from who knew how many weeks of disuse. 

He nodded, lifting you from your cot with ease. Holding your body against his tightly as he brought you up the stairs. Your eyes fluttered against the light, the early evening sun cutting  through you until you help your eyes tightly closed.

You heard him shush you softly before you realised you’d been crying. 

“Si,” you said again and you felt him hold you closer. 

“I know baby, I know. I’m so proud of you. We made it.” 

He set you down on the edge of the bath and began the careful work of peeling your filthy clothes off. 

The final chords of this tragic, disgusting song had begun, and your dance was ending. 

He washed you gently, tears in his eyes as he rinsed away the layers of pain he’d caused you. 

He spoke to you in gentle tones, barely above a whisper, as though any loud noise would send you into shock. He didn’t wait for your responses, knowing you were too exhausted to give any. 

“It’s okay, pet. It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re out. You’re out.

“Were you scared? I know baby, I know how scary it was, but you’re safe now. I’ll never let anything happen to you, never. You’re too important, I love you so much, pet. Too much.” 

You let the hot water and his words baptise you, remaking you under the heat of his love for you. He washed every part of you, yet nothing felt as intimated as when he washed your hair, stroking your head gently as he cried and promised you things you weren’t sure would ever come to be. 

When you were clean he wrapped you in a towel and left to get you something to wear. 

Was that you? Was that really you in the mirror? Chapped lips, large sunken eyes, your cheeks were hollow and your skin dull, your natural undertone wiped away and replaced with a pallid grey. When he came back you still couldn’t look away from the person in the mirror. He placed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t shirts on the heater and closed the door, giving you time to settle back into yourself. Your new self. 

You hated him. You hated him for doing this to you, making you this person. 

You opened the cabinet and went through the minor motions of humanity. Brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, and pulling the t-shirt on mechanically. You left the bottoms folded, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep them on no mater how tightly you tied them. He was just too big, and you were just too small. 

You clutched a hair band in your hand, knowing he’d want to tie your hair back. He loved doing those small things for you. And you hated him for it. 

When you shuffled into the bedroom you stood in the doorway, watching you with a grief in his eyes as though he hand’t done this to you. 

He pulled you close, picking you up and laying you gently on the bed. The mattress felt obscene after weeks on the cot, you wept again and hated him for turning you into this person, a person that cried at everything. A person who knew what it felt like to sleep on the floor. Someone who felt blessed to have a bed. 

He took his place beside you, and you pulled yourself close, holding your body to the curves and edges of his. His arms wound around you and pinned you to him, his lips brushed your forehead and you felt his tears fall, running down your cheeks and mixing with yours.

“I was so scared without you. I really thought I wasn’t gonna make it this time.” 

“Me too, Si.”

You understood how much he needed this, how much he needed to be the villain, how much he needed to hate himself before he could go into hell and be a good soldier. So he could come back home a hero, a rescuer. Your protector. 

Your Simon.

Reblog if you think a woman can be complete without children

Y’ALL HAVE TIME TO REBLOG THIS. IT TAKES LESS THAN FIVE SECONDS.

Never Leaving

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter needs to keep you, even if you don’t want to. 

WARNINGS: Kidnap.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

“I wanna go home. Please!” you cry out, struggling against the ropes that keep you restrained to the chair. 

“Don’t cry, c’mon.” Peter begs, nervously twisting his hands as he tries to make you look him in the eyes. But that’s what you least want. Right now, just the sight of him makes you sick. “I know this is ….unexpected, but I had to take you. It’s for your own good.” 

You bitterly scoff, closing your eyes for a moment. You hate him. 

“I just want to go home, Peter. Please, that’s all I want.” your voice is barely loud enough to be heard, but Peter immediately reacts. His hands are quick to grab your cheeks, his touch soft yet demanding your attention as he forces you to face him. 

“This will be your new home. Our home.” he stops for a moment, his eyes pleading you to understand his stance. “We can be so happy together, I just know it.” 

Peter suddenly leans forward, ignoring your attempts to turn your head as he grabs the back of your head, forcing you to stay put and accept his kiss.

The moment his lips touch yours, you feel your stomach churning, anxiety and fear revolving inside you. It barely lasts a second before he pulls away, a dreamy expression taking over his face.

A smile decorating his lips as he gazes at you, clearly ignoring the shock and disgusted on your face. 

“See? We’re perfect for each other, we’re soulmates. And I can’t let you go away from me.” 

CATER 2 U how you make the genshin men cum!

alhaitham, childe [ajax], thoma x f!reader ౨ৎ . . . nsfw — mdni ໒꒱ ⋆˚✩. oral [ m -> f && f -> m ] / facials / cumplay + eating / breeding kink / creampies / petnames / thoma calls you "puppy" / use of "mommy" && "daddy" in childe's / praise. comments + reblogs supa appreciated!

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ALHAITHAM

alhaitham doesn't think he'll ever know a prettier sight than when you're down on your knees, looking up at him with those bambi eyes that never fail to get his cock twitching in his pants. he doesn't think he'll ever know a prettier sight than when he paints your face with his seed, rubbing it into your lips with the his thumb until they’re coated with a glossy sheen. and he most definitely doesn’t think he’ll ever know a prettier sight than when your lips are wrapped around his fingers, whimpering sweetly at his taste.

“oh, fuck, good girl— keep strokin' my cock like that,” alhaitham's fists have his armrests in a vice grip, earpiece laying long forgotten on the office desk and head thrown back as he feels your lips sucking at the tip of his cock.

a groan pushes past him when your hand squeezes tighter around his girth, pumping up and down his length tantalizingly slowly— but with just the right amount of force that you know will dot his vision with white spots when he cums.

your tongue replaces your lips as you lick up his slit, free hand fondling his balls. it’s enough to push him over the edge and send the coil in his stomach unravelling, his trembling thighs being an easy indicator of it.

“cumming… cumming—” thick ribbons of his milk gush all over your face, coating your skin and lips as he watches his cock jump through tired, lidded eyes. he doesn’t take a moment to catch his breath— impatient as ever when he's with you— and cards his fingers down through your hair to tenderly grip your chin, tilting your face up to better examine his work of art, “such a smart girl, a pretty girl... hah— wonder what the sages would say if they saw you like this.”

pride swells in his chest when he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, spreading his cum over the supple skin there. before he can pull back, your fingers find his wrist, clasping it as you open your mouth to encircle his digit with your tongue. the sloppy sound of you sucking on it and the gentle vibrations of you humming at the musky scent and the sharp taste of his release coax an expletive from him.

alhaitham can’t help the way his cock twitches back to life at the sight in front of him, remnant drops of cum spilling from his slit onto your bare chest.

“you really know how to take it out on me, huh?”

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ CHILDE

what childe loves the most about you is your smile. a smile so bright and beautiful— it nearly left him blind the first time he caught sight of it. he fell fast and hard; and he vowed to protect it, to make sure not one teardrop spilled over your bottom lash. what childe loves the most about you is your smile— but he thinks the way you’re shedding tears whenever you’re underneath him and begging for his cum is enough to rival that.

“please… please, ajax…” your calves quiver atop your lover's broad shoulders when he bottoms out again, balls heavy against the curve of your ass, and his cock twitching against the velvety warmth of your walls. he has you folded nearly in half— thrusts deep, slow, and calculated as he peers down at your strained expression through the strands of ginger hanging in front of his face.

“please, what? use your words, sweetheart.”

tears gush out over your lash line and dribble down your cheeks, “please, cum inside, wan’ it s’bad— please, please, please,” your chest rises and falls unsteadily as you sob out, fingers threading through mussed hair as they search for purchase in his roots.

a guttural groan escapes the confines of his throat when he hears the crack in your voice and notices the tears staining your skin.

he’s broken you.

oh, he thinks you look so sweet like this— panting and whining; so greedy with the way you’re begging for his hot milk— it has blood flooding down to his cock like never before, “y’want my cum? y’wanna make me a daddy?”

you hiccup, a tremor working its way through your limbs at his words, “uh huh—oh, fuck—!” and then he begins to pound into you without warning, knocking the air out of your lungs as the tip of his dick abuses your cervix with the sole intent of flooding your womb full of his seed.

“fuck— gonna cum so deep inside, gonna make you a mommy— gonna make you the prettiest fuckin’ mommy—shit,” he leans down to swallow your cries, lips sloppily brushing over yours as your hot breath fans his face, “c-cumming—” he’s whispering against the shell of your ear as he shushes your pleasured wails, your fluttering walls milking him for all he’s worth when he spills inside you.

yeah, he’s definitely knocked you up.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ THOMA

thoma would spend the rest of eternity with his face in between your legs if he could. he’s not ashamed to say he’s addicted to your taste— he loves the way it spreads over his tongue as a thin sheet of syrupy sweetness, he loves your pretty cries, but what he loves most is to hear you praise him. your pleasure is his pleasure— and he can’t help the way he cums untouched whenever you spill all over his chin and whine out how good he is, how perfect he is for you.

“thoma, thoma— f-fuck, right there…” you peer down at your lover through hooded lids, feeling your pulsating nub swell with blood under the suckling of his lips, the fire in the pit of your stomach only growing brighter with the continuous quirk of his index and middle finger against that precious bundle of nerves that lie deep within your walls.

his free hand trails over the love bites he left on the insides of your thighs from earlier on in the night, emerald eyes flicking across your heaving frame to drink in your expression.

you look so pretty from this angle— thoma swears he sees a halo hanging over your head.

bottom lip trapped in your top two teeth, head leaning back against the headboard, restless fingers bunching up the cotton by your sides as your cunny clenches around the two digits inside you— the sight's enough to leave his head spinning.

and the sounds you’re making— god, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold out much longer. soft mewls of his name and breathless chants of, “please, please, please,” engulf his senses along with the taste of your sweet nectar coating his tongue.

“doin’ s’good, thoma— fuck, you’re so perfect; love you, i love you so much...”

your praise travels straight to his cock, and it has his hips jerking down against the bed, “fuck— p-puppy, gonna cum,” and then he’s moaning into your cunt, the vibrations sending a sharp wave of pleasure through your nerves as you both cum together, your juices coating the bottom half of his face and his seed seeping through the thin fabric of his boxers to wet the bed.

he rides out his high by grinding down into the mattress, his grip on your thighs getting tighter when he feels the sweet stickiness of your essence against his chin.

but this isn’t enough— he needs to taste more of you, needs to have you writhing underneath him, needs to hear you begging for him to stop.

he’s insatiable.

reblogs + feedback are supa appreciated ꒰๑´͈ ᵕ `͈๑꒱

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"uhh i don't remember"

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