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#if he had any self preservation

seagreenstardust · 1 year

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This is old news by now I’m sure but I’m rewatching MHA S5 and listen. Listen. The reason Izuku manifested blackwhip is because Monoma went after not just Bakugo, but the very thing Izuku knows Bakugo feels genuine, heart-wrenching remorse for: indirectly being the reason All Might had to retire.

Monoma goes for Bakugo in front of Midoriya, goes for the throat without even knowing how vicious his words are, and it backfires spectacularly because the rage Izuku feels on Bakugo’s behalf is what actually wakes OFA up.

And the takeaway is that what’s in Izuku’s heart is the most important thing to control? What’s in his heart is what will help him master OFA? Hello??! It’s Katsuki. It’s Katsuki in there. Platonically or romantically, it doesn’t matter, Midoriya Izuku loves Bakugo Katsuki.

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we-re-more-than-that · 3 months

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I haven't peeped much of it, but I did see people calling Sejanus a spoiled kid and I'm like I LOVE HIM EVEN MORE BC HE IS A SPOILED KID AND HE DIDN'T KNOW HUNGER AND HE STILL KNOWS THAT KEEPING THE STATUS QUO ISN'T THE WAY TO GO.

the empathy of this man

especially when you compare him to mf Coriolanus Snow who KNOWS hunger and STILL thinks people deserve this because they're not people but animals

the parallels between those two; Sejanus, kind because of his nature and nurturing of his mother, ten years in the Capitol and not letting those bullies erode his soul, not letting them harden him, he does NOT betray his kindness even as it could help him integrate better, no, he chooses loneliness no matter what over spoiling his soul

and over there is Coriolanus Snow, who does EVERYTHING for image and status, who fake befriends people on the basis of how they benefit him, having poor Tigris, the literal kindest baby, try to nurture him and pull something good out of him, and she just.. fails

and like, yes, Snow had trauma. but sorry it doesn't excuse becoming a dictator

Sejanus, too, had trauma. they all went through war. while, yes, Sejanus had food to eat, he was plagued by loneliness and guilt all his life and let me remind you this is a KID

people expecting him to be crafting plans just don't get it. he's a teenager that feels guilty as fuck and wants at least a few people to do better if he can't save everyone. because he can't, he can't stand by and watch more cruelties until he MAYBE inherits his father's money. and then what? he's not the only rich person in the Capitol.

either way, it's unlikely he could have led some revolutionary rebellion (he certainly had the grit and passion, though) because he had no backing and the ONE person who he trusted was a mf SNAKE and was actively sabotaging him

where was he gonna get allies for a rebellion? Capitol where he was hated because he wasn't like them? District 2 where he was hated because he didn't belong to them either? District 12 where he was a Peacekeeper, the police of the Capitol?

he was doomed from the start. he was too good and he couldn't play the long game because he was feeling so powerfully about everything and was NOT calculating like Snow. he was not the strategist Snow was.

he was a smart, kind, lonely boy who wanted to do good.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #sejanus plinth #coriolanus snow #sejanus deserved better #he could have used his aim skill on coryo #but that boy would have never #had the fattest most unfortunate crush #and couldn't stomach anything like that #what a fucking duo they could have been #changing panem with kindness and wit and wickedness but for the right things #alas it was not to be #bc snow is a mf SNAKE 🐍#and only knows self-preservation #selfishness. arrogance. status #this is pretty unserious but also it's quite amazing to me how people can blame sejanus in any way

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invinciblerodent · 2 months

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himh I'll make a Dark Urge that's so fucking scared

big scary bloodsoaked killer, tearing through armies with her literal bare hands? nah. a quiet, scared girl who doesn't understand why she does what she does, why she can do what she can, but is, at the same time, deeply disgusted by herself because she has just enough self-awareness to know to be repulsed.

maybe it's because I'm a tiny bit obsessed with clinging to the thought that people, at the end of the day, are fundamentally good, no matter what. that there is a fundamental human goodness in all people that makes them worthy of redemption, or at least of the opportunity for atonement.

maybe the way I want to play a story like that is with someone who, stripped from indoctrination and free for the first time to think for herself and embrace and be who she is, finds that in the deepest, most hidden pits of her soul, she is not the strong, kind, resilient person she might want to be. try as the might, she is not someone who can bear the weight of her own past, she's just a... a terrified, broken little girl, cowering in the shadows and unable to look herself in the eye. (which also gives me ideas for her relationship with Orin but that's a little bit beside the point)

cathartic self-insert who. therapy? what is that. is it on Steam or Epic.

#video games are cheaper than therapy i know from experience #squirrel plays bg3 #oc: mara #watching my partner play his durge last night i had Thoughts #so far i'm thinking that this intense fear will be what initially draws my girl to Karlach #because karlach is so.... bright. and exuberant. and even chivalrous in her way #she's so LOUDLY good that her presence is louder than even the fear and... there is something really sweet about that #it'll be a bit of a change of pace for me to REALLY lean into playing a character who... isn't a protector in any way #someone who doesn't put their feelings last #not even out of pure obligation or self-preservation #but rather they are someone who NEEDS comfort and protection #and at the same time IS the danger itself yknow #(my default boys Arvid and Ray are sort of different flavors of a “kinght” archetype)#(the former is the “courage is overcoming fear”-type)#(the latter is the “fate's puppet; thrown at ever-increasing horrors until one finally kills him [and maybe he'll even welcome that]” type)#(Iona may be the most emotionally intelligent but she is in survival mode for a long time which complicates things)#(Petyr is selfish and kinda.... phlegmatic; performatively indifferent until he's yanked from it)#(but Mara will be... feeling ALL of her feelings. and I think Karlach will make her feel the closest to what she can think of as “normal”)#(there's perpetrator guilt. and shame. and fear. disgust at her own urges. intrusive thoughts and bodily reactions that disturb her.)#(i think she'll be pretty fascinating to play)#(holy tag novel dang)

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shipverse · 2 years

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[Hidden Identity]

Come a little closer, then you'll see

Things aren't always what they seem to be.

While Iron Man is a wonderful hero beloved by the public, Tony Stark has a notorious reputation as the playboy billionaire. Unapproved by Fury, deemed unfit to be an Avenger, Tony tells the press that the man inside the Iron Man armor (clouded in secrecy) is in fact his "bodyguard". Just like in the old comics, Tony worries that if his identity as the hero would be revealed, he'd lose everything; His team (no doubt angry at him for having lied to them all this time), that no one would accept him as a hero, his company Stark International would go under or be overtaken, losing his chance to make a change globally, as well as any chance to do good as a hero, in his armor.

Then we have Steve, buying the playboy facade and public image at face value, thereby not having much of a favorable opinion of Stark. On the other hand, he is head over heels for his witty, brave and selfless partner, Iron Man. (This only adding to Tony's fears and anxieties of his identity being revealed, surely he would be hated, by Steve.. and lose his partner).🥺

(However his actions speaking louder than words, his bonds with the team, and with Steve, may be stronger and count for much more than he thinks..)

アイアンマンは素敵なヒーローだが、トニーは悪名高い評判ので、トニーはマスコミに「アイアンマンのスーツを着ているのは (スタークではなく) スタークの謎のボディーガードだ」と嘘をついて、フューリーもトニーを認めていなかったので、"きっと僕みたいなのはチームから外されるし、嘘がバレたら怒られるし、もうヒーローとして人を助けることはできない.. アベンジャーズには秘密にしておこう......。"ってこういう「秘密の正体」的な設定やAUは大好きです🤗

もちろん、スティーブがプレイボーイの面影を額面通りに判断し、スタークを特に好きではなく、一方で機知に富み、勇敢で無私のパートナーであるアイアンマンには頭が上がらない（これは、トニーが自分の正体がばれたら嫌われるのではないかという恐怖を助長する）のはいい話と思いもす。スティーブは、比喩的にも文字通りの意味でも、マスクの裏側の男を本当に見ることになるのです🥺

Reveal sequel:

Inspired by this song (and looped while drawing): https://youtu.be/uRI0_G9RIDw

#stony #stevetony #キャプトニ #ステトニ #my art #i love secret identity tropes so muchh🙌💗💖💗#and thankfully hero comics is perfect for it #so much of it both in canon and in fics #i can't get enough of it💕🙌✨️#Tony in the old comic angsting about not letting anyone close...#not only bc of previously listed things but bc with the arc reactor in his chest - that he constantly had to charge #his life might be in peril at any time so he wouldn't want anyone to get close romantically for their sake🥲#(going so far as making people hate him as tony stark)#he really is so much angst and guilt and worry and low self-image or preservation..#all this angst makes for the perfect recipe with identity reveal and the eventual comfort and reassurance😭🙌✨️💕#after all the misunderstandings are cleared up🥺✨️💖#stevetony really so good!👏💕

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brandonsanderson · 4 months

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What’s Kelsier’s last name?

He doesn't have one.

During the period of the original Mistborn Trilogy, surnames were mostly exclusive to Nobles and very few Skaa had them.

Kelsier would have had a surname during his youth, when he and Marsh were raised in a Noble household, believed to be full blooded Nobles. However, after the deception was discovered and his Noble father killed his Skaa mother, he discarded the name entirely out of self preservation, and also to sever any links to the man who killed his mother.

#He doesn't have one.#During the period of the original Mistborn Trilogy #surnames were mostly exclusive to Nobles and very few Skaa had them.#Kelsier would have had a surname during his youth #when he and Marsh were raised in a Noble household #believed to be full blooded Nobles. However #after the deception was discovered and his Noble father killed his Skaa mother #he discarded the name entirely out of self preservation #and also to sever any links to the man who killed his mother.

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mantisgodsaus · 1 year

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New blog moment /pos

Hello! I am here to formally request you may or may not tell me more about this selkieverse. Is it an au where everyone is a selkie (or at least, some bugs are)? Do they just turn into aquatic like bugs instead of actual seals? If actual seals, do you have species picked out for the selkie characters yet? How does it work? Are they even selkies at all? Once more, you don't have to answer if its information you'd like to withold but as local marine biology (mostly seals and jellyfish though) nerd I must know if this may be an au that is like. Right up my alley.

Oh boy, we can answer questions! Technically, we've had this blog for a bit, we just... haven't been using it (we are afflicted with a chronic need to illustrate our worldbuilding and we just Haven't Been Drawing recently).

Not everyone is a selkie, but some bugs are - actual species varies! They're seals, or other assorted... vertebrates, mostly. "Selkie", here, is less referring specifically to seals and more referring to the general category of Bugs With Bonus Pelt. We've got actual species picked out for the selkie characters, but we do want to keep a few under wraps - of the few we can reveal, Leif is a ribbon seal, Mothiva is a leopard seal, Cenn is a yellow-bellied water snake, and Vi... well, her pelt was an ermine.

In terms of how it works - selkies are, more or less, bugs that come in two... pieces, or with two forms. It's genetic, though it can very much skip generations and occasionally appears to manifest from nowhere - generally, you have a few main strains of selkie in an area, maybe with a scattering of other species around. Seals are by far the most common around both Bugaria and The North, and the gene's most common in moths (as far as anyone knows), though it can appear in other species - and, as previously mentioned, sometimes you just get a kid who's a selkie without any previous selkie relatives.

A selkie's pelt isn't present upon hatching, but manifests later - generally either when they metamorphose, in the case of bugs like moths and butterflies, or during one of their first few instars on bugs who do That. It is, functionally, a part of them - a selkie cannot be separated from their pelt for too long, though they can wander farther from it with age and practice, and trying to keep away from it causes fun side effects (like organ failure, and feeling like you're being physically peeled out of your shell, and death).

The pelt itself is, as is typical with selkies, a pelt - seal, or snake, or ermine, or whatever else someone might be. Looks like you'd expect a seal pelt to be - although a selkie's pelt contains a few more bones. Generally, you've got a skull, spine, and ribcage, but it's not uncommon to have a few other bones - they shape the skin, more or less. As is standard, once the skin is donned, they gain the form of their pelt, but the selkie has some control over it - as well as some control over how the pelt moves.

The thing about selkie pelts is that, as they're a part of the selkie, they're functionally "alive" - an extension of the self, an extra limb. Technically, anyone can don a selkie pelt and take on the form of whatever creature they are, but it'll be... strange. Uncanny. They aren't the selkie, and this isn't their form - they're just wearing their skin. Unlike on the selkie themself, the bones aren't going to merge to them properly, they're just going to stick in there, wearing away at their shell until they eventually take it off. A pelt only retains its transformative properties while the selkie it belongs to is alive - once they bite it, it becomes just a piece of leather, though with selkie skin being the only real option as far as skins go, it's still pretty damn valuable dead.

If a selkie's pelt is destroyed, the selkie dies. Likewise, if a selkie dies, the pelt becomes inert. It's a bit like holding a vital organ in your hand - and if the selkie and the pelt are taken too far apart, the connection is severed and the selkie will die even if no damage is dealt to either them or their pelt.

As is standard for selkie mythology, having a selkie's pelt gives you some measure of control over them. Specific degree of control varies, largely based on the selkie - though all selkies can be commanded while you're actively holding their pelt, if they'll keep following that command once you've put it down is a whole 'nother ball park. If you had Leif's pelt in hand and told him to do something, he'd keep doing it even if you put that pelt down later, but if you tried the same with Vi (again, while she had it) she'd stop the second you put it down. With Mothiva, just possessing the pelt is enough - you don't need direct contact, you just need to have it. The effect's at least partially psychosomatic - while it's a direct compulsion with direct contact, anything past that is largely based on if the selkie thinks you should be able to tell them what to do.

The selkie form itself is fairly standard as creatures of its species go, albeit downsized for bug scale. They're around the size they'd normally be relative to a human, relative to an average bug (using an ant as your Standard Human works, here). A selkie is, functionally, both their bug species and their pelt species - behaviors in one form will affect the other, and vice versa. Generally, this'll manifest most noticeably in either tics or diet - a craving for raw fish, an odd sense of territorialism, an impulse to drag dead things to your dumb, bad-at-hunting teammate. It does, however, vary - and a good chunk of selkies do try to keep the fact that they're selkies hidden, especially if they might have reason to fear a stolen pelt.

...this is a whole lot of rambling on Selkie Magic Mechanics and not a whole lot of marine biology, uhh. Hope this helps sketch out the general mechanics for ya! We're always glad to talk about Cool AUs!

#selkieverse #bf aus #selkieverse leif #selkieverse mothiva #selkieverse cenn #selkieverse vi #niko-jpeg #fun fact with standard seal pelts youll cut the flippers and the head off since they don't tan well #a selkie pelt keeps all the bits! its more or less the full skin of the beast including bits thatre just plain impractical to tan normally #also yes fish is a Thing You Can eat its just. not generally a good idea to hunt it as the fish are still Fish Size #leif has the ribbon seal air sac in both forms #mothiva would fucking eat him if she had a chance however she is smaller than him in moth form and he just #entirely lacks any form of self preservation instinct #muze and todd are also selkies but they keep it quiet for dont want their pelts fucking stolen reasons #leif is currently not aware hes a selkie in the first place and hes old enough of one that he has. a Very wide range on his pelt #pelt in question has been hanging up over the fireplace in muze's house ever since an. incident. with grandma muse #they never had the heart to get rid of it. she was Very certain her husband was alive in her old age #you know how it is. a bug gets old and their mind starts to go... always a pity #it does still feel like that pelt is... watching #and it has changed appearance a bit... but who's looking at those old photos anyways?#(leifs pelt has slowly changed color from dark rusty brown to a dark steely blue over the past. century)#(his pelt is not dead but it is Dormant. unfortunately he currently has no fucking clue its even his pelt unfortunately hes stupid)#(also the whole cordyceps thing did scramble his memory access a bit)

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raspberryzingaaa · 1 year

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playing minecraft and I got the safety torch song stuck in my head (and do you like my diamond sword... I know, throwbacks, whatever) so i looked the guy up and the first thing i see is him ... hanging out with kyle rittenhouse???? also he was on annoying orange which i had almost successfully purged from my memory. All around, not a great time.

#this timeline got Wierd #nia post #also i totally forgot he did the sideburns song wtf #this guy had such an influence on my 10yo vocabulary omg #i didnt watch any videos bc i have a little self preservation skills still #but at this point its too late all the cringe youtube my cousins and i watched on the computer in the family room at our nanas is haunting

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shotmrmiller · 1 month

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johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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