Simon Smoke x Male reader

Cooler than cool

As Simon Smoke walked toward the wooden gate, his rough voice broke the silence. "Don't leave the castle," he said, pausing to glance back at you with an almost soft expression. "You can explore as much as you want, but don't go beyond these walls... You're too pretty to lose." His smirk followed, but this time it wasn't laced with mischief-it felt genuine.

Your heart skipped a beat, not from fear, but from a strange sense of relief. It was hard to believe that Simon, this cocky, arrogant creature, actually found you attractive. And you, a guy, of all people. Maybe he was gay after all, but he was too wrapped up in his cool-kid act to admit it outright.

After he left, the room felt a little more welcoming. You stood up, taking in the surroundings-the dark walls illuminated by faux torches, the hallways branching off in different directions. One hallway in particular caught your attention: "Simon Smoke's Throne."

Curiosity tugged at you. He did say you could explore, and this room had an air of significance. Cautiously, you made your way down the hallway and into what could only be Simon's personal space.

The room was surprisingly... warm. Not just in temperature, but in atmosphere. His bed was a striking combination of red, orange, and gold, with lights beneath it casting a glow like flickering fire. The bedposts were made of gleaming metal, designed to resemble dragon claws holding up the frame. Nearby, there was a large table, round like the ones knights would gather around in old stories. It seemed more like a place for Simon and his friends than a grand dining table.

Then there was the couch-a massive, plush thing that looked like it could comfortably seat ten people. It was the kind that could fold down into a huge bed if needed. Pictures lined the walls, showing Simon and various critters, some of them laughing, others captured in playful poses. Despite his tough exterior, it seemed like Simon cherished his friends.

You wandered over to the bed, curiosity still burning. You couldn't resist laying down, just to see if it was as comfortable as it looked. The moment you sank into the soft mattress, your body relaxed-almost too much. Something caught your eye-a small beam of light was missing beneath the bed, and something was sticking out.

A box.

Curious, you pulled it out and opened it.

Instantly, your face flushed a deep red. Inside the box were handcuffs, chains, a gag, and other... toys. "So, that's what he's into..." you murmured to yourself, half in amusement, half in surprise. You never would've guessed that a children's entertainer would have such a kinky side.

Quickly, you closed the box and shoved it back under the bed, still feeling the heat in your cheeks. Just then, a cold draft blew through the room, followed by the sound of a roar. Simon was back-and something was wrong. You could hear the anger in his voice, feel the tension in the air.

As you walked out into the hallway, Simon stormed toward you, his eyes burning with rage. Before you could speak, he pinned you against the wall, his claws digging into the stone near your head.

"Shut up, shut up... I'm not in the damn mood," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. You felt a wave of fear wash over you as he let go and raked his claws down the wall, leaving deep gouges. His anger was palpable, but there was something else-something vulnerable just beneath the surface.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his voice breaking. Before you could react, he stormed off toward his room, tears streaming down his face.

For a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. But something tugged at your heart. Despite everything-his arrogance, his temper-Simon wasn't just a bully. He was hurting, and that made him human in a way you hadn't seen before.

You followed him quietly, peeking into his room. He was lying face-down on his bed, roaring into his pillow, his body shaking with frustration and pain. You hesitated, but then his voice called out to you, softer this time.

"Hey... Y/N. Come here."

Tentatively, you stepped into the room and sat down beside him. His back trembled beneath your hand as you gave it a comforting pat. For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy but not uncomfortable. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Simon asked, "Am I cool?"

His question caught you off guard. For someone who prided himself on his confidence, asking such a vulnerable question showed a side of him you hadn't expected. You wanted to say no, that he wasn't cool at all-not with how he treated people, not with his narcissism. But at the same time, you couldn't deny that there was something about him that drew you in. He wasn't perfect, but he was... real.

You took a deep breath before answering, "Yeah... You're cool, Simon. But you don't always have to be."

For a moment, Simon didn't say anything. Then, slowly, he turned to face you, his expression softer, more genuine than you'd ever seen before. "Thanks," he murmured, his rough voice barely a whisper.

The room seemed to settle after that, the tension easing. You didn't know what the future held for you but for some reason, you felt like you were exactly where you needed to be.