Certified Simp Novels & Stories

She simpers. Excellent.

She couldn’t help but notice they were red as blood. Everyone was going home for Thanksgiving. Callie didn’t want to spend the long weekend at the mansion which didn’t even have running water so she had booked a hotel in Boston that allowed pets. She was going to use a glamour spell on Finnegan to make him look like a dog to avoid possible inquiries. She decided on a nicer hotel as she might as well be comfortable and she was going to abuse the buffet every chance she got.

Cedar and smoke, Sergei's aftershave still lingering. "There's no baby seat," I say, frowning. "Good point," says Simpson. "Legally, I can't permit—" "She can hold him," Sergei says, then glances at me. "Buckle yourself in." "Mr. Sidorov, I—" "I said she can hold him," Sergei snarls, his lips curling up in a gesture that looks alarmingly like a wolf baring its teeth. Simpson sinks into his seat as if wishing his could disappear.

Slim I leaned against my car in the parking lot, waiting for the familiar sound of the bell to signal the end of the school day. Feeling restless, I absentmindedly touched the cut on my cheek, then reached for the cigarette I had tucked behind my ear. I lit it up and took a deep drag, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. As the bell rang, I dropped the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it with my shoe. The doors swung open, and students spilled out, eager to escape the building. People approached me, much to my displeasure. Being popular seemed to make sense to others, but it held no appeal for me. I disliked social interactions of any kind, but I tolerated them.

There was even the occasional scuffle. Despite their wretchedness, the Simmons family were warriors, and there just happened to be a few of them standing guard at the checkpoint. Even if people were unhappy and went as far as to cause a ruckus, things would settle down very quickly. The Simmons warriors took one look at the little white pig sitting dignifiedly on Caspian's shoulder, and their eyes lit up. "A cultivator!" It was obvious that the little white pig was a mythical monster, and anyone who was able to train a mythical monster would naturally be a cultivator.

Rumor was she screamed Shayne's name in court like it was some tragic love story. None of it mattered. Not to me. I wasn't anybody's simp, and definitely not love-brained. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, I was still gonna treat myself right. My life was never built to orbit around romance. The Chat Feed barely buzzed anymore: [Ley's glowing up. Love this version of her!] [Certified Girlboss arc.] [Hope she meets someone better.] I shut off my phone and glanced out the window. The sun was perfect, the breeze soft.

“And who do you think I’m doing this for? Are you planning to raise another man’s son for the rest of your life and let the Carter family have no heir?! “You told me Yvonne would have the baby! Where is my grandchild? Gone! That was my real grandson, and now he’s gone!” “Mom, can we talk about this at home?” Jason’s tone was almost pleading. Being exposed by his own mother in front of outsiders was utterly humiliating for him. The clients were visibly uncomfortable. After an awkward silence, one of them finally spoke up. “Mr. Carter, I think we should cancel our partnership. Goodbye.” One by one, the others nodded and followed suit. Each bidding farewell before walking away. Panic flashed ac

Raising an arm, she asked, "Who's finally believed nothing's impossible for Anderson Simpson?" All three arms were up. Then looking at one another, they burst into teenage shrill. "But how did you connect the principal's number to your watch?" asked Jocelyn. "Does it use a Sim?" "It's easy, I added a programmed data of a Google Assistant to my phone's Sim (data), compressed the duo into a unison and, voilà, my SW is formed." She turned her head to Harry and said, "How does your best friend make seriously complex things sound so easy?"

He lied. "But she misses you. Surely, you must know her to an extent for her to trust you with stuff like that." Attorney Simpson said, his head gesturing at the phone in Simon's hand. "She has attachment issues." He fabricated, and immediately hated himself for saying it. He was an asshole, but after lying, he truly felt like the embodiment of it, and he wanted to take back the words immediately. "If that's the case, then I think you always go for the wrong women. Firstly a manipulator, and this one has an attachment disorder...." Simon didn't let the man speak before grabbing the collar of his shirt, not having a care in the world about the consequences.

I looked at Cara, and she seemed in full confidence. "Sir Carter" she started, and he almost broke his pen as he tightened his grip on it, Cara was defiant. "My name is Cara, and I am head of the Tech Tracking and Surveillance Department of Rowen International Security and Associates, have you heard of us?" She asked already knowing the answer. There was no one in the high ranks of any company or business who wasn't aware where the best technological options on security were from. Caleb's company was legendary in the industry; well established and renowned, something that never crossed my mind until now. My boss nodded and changed posture immediately; Cara knew well how to deal with kind of