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starlit-writer · 3 days ago

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the kindest devil, pt. 2 - simon riley x fem!reader

This is your dead dove: do not eat warning. This second part deals with incredibly hard, graphic topics. tw: murder, familial violence, fauxcest, gore, smut, implied sexual abuse from an authority figure, and just general dark themes. it is also worth noting that both Simon and reader are aged down (18 year olds in their last year of high school) please do not read if this will be harmful to your mental health. that is more important to me than anything else.

listen, the brain worms took over. this was supposed to be a quick little one-shot drabble but the brainworms demanded a sacrifice and it devolved into this. but seriously, do not read if dark themes are triggering to you or if you are not in the right headspace. unbeta'd, bc we die like phil real men. thanks for reading!

pt. 1 here

word count: 2149 masterlist ao3 link

The bullet was earth-shatteringly loud as it ricocheted off the wall and grazed Simon’s thigh. His yell of pain, of rage, that sounded in your ear felt like a nuclear bomb going off. As Simon rolled off of you, you sat up on your elbows, feeling dazed and confused. That’s when your gaze fell on Phil. His cheeks were ruddy and swollen, his eyes were unfocused, hazed over with alcohol. But, in his shaking hand, was a gun. Simon was standing in front of Phill now, his hand clutching at his thigh. You glanced down at the wound and watched as thick arterial blood poured out of Simon’s thigh, painting the light blue jeans he was wearing with the sticky redness. Simon’s breath came out in ragged puffs, his eyes narrowed and filled with rage - he looked like a bull, and Phil was waving the red flag.

“You two have always been fuckin’ disgusting. That’s why I started fuckin’ her, you know that, right? I started fucking her because I wanted her to grow up and be normal, not craving her brother's cock,” Phil spat out, glaring between you and Simon. Quickly, you glanced away, feeling nauseous at Phil’s words as heat coated your cheeks, the blush matching the blood blooming down Simon’s jeans. It didn’t matter how untrue you knew the words were, that you and Simon weren’t truly siblings, it didn’t matter in Phil’s eyes. In the eyes of society.

Before you could blink, let alone formulate a response, Simon was lunging at him. He knocked Phil to the ground, the mass of the two men hitting the ground enough to make the ground shake. Simon looked absolutely vicious as he started throwing punches. His eyes gleamed with a murderous rage that you had never seen before. It didn’t take long for the crack of a broken nose to sound through the room, blood pouring down Phil’s face. Phil’s reaction time was slowed from the alcohol flowing through his head, but you watched as he raised the butt of the gun, the matte black back strap of the gun catching in the light as he attempted to crack it down on Simon’s skull. Simon, with his ever-keen senses, felt the movement, and quickly knocked the gun out of Phil’s hands.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk about her like that again! She never deserved what you did to her, and, for the record, neither did I!” Simon raged as his hands shoved at Phil’s chest. Tears were streaming down Simon’s face, droplets of grief mixed with rage to form a dizzying concoction of conflicting emotions, mixing with blood that had gotten smeared there. Who knew whose blood it was at this point.

But Simon’s words were little more than background static to you as you watched the gun spin to a halt in front of you. You could save Simon and yourself from the abuse - you could set the both of you free.

It took less than a second to make your decision.

You jumped off of the bed, but at this point neither of the men were paying attention to you. With shaking hands, you picked up the gun. You didn’t even say anything. You aimed the way that you had been taught, and you squeezed the trigger. As soon as the trigger was pulled, you looked away, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the viscera of what was once Phil’s skull land on your skin.

What felt like hours passed, but logically, you knew it couldn’t have been more than seconds. Simon’s hands were still coated in gore as his hands grabbed onto yours, removing the gun gingerly from your shaking grasp. He dropped the gun on the ground and kicked it away before his hands came back up to your cheeks, forcing your gaze to meet his warm brown one.

All you could think about was the pieces of skull, brain matter, and blood coating his fingers as he touched you.

“I- I had to,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your eyes darted wildly between his, almost as if you were seeking forgiveness from a god.

“I know,” he replied simply, his fingers digging into your cheeks ever so slightly, desperately trying to keep you grounded. You were in shock, your body trembling under Simon’s touch. Your eyes were darting desperately between his. You felt untethered, your body going hot and cold and hot and cold and hot and cold in a nauseating cycle.

Simon sighed softly as he watched you start to disassociate. His hands slipped down from your cheeks, down your shoulders, your arms, until finally they came to rest on your hips, leaving streaky trails of blood and brain matter all over your body. He hauled you against him so that no space was left between you, and did the only thing that he could think of to keep you from going off the deep end, from completely getting lost in what you just did.

His lips met yours in a fury. It was all teeth and tongue, Simon licking desperately into your mouth in a vain attempt to distract you. When you didn’t melt into him like you normally did, a short growl left his throat as his hands dipped beneath his sweatshirt that covered your body, his blunt nails digging into the flesh covering your soft hips as he continued to kiss you.

“Baby, c’mon. Focus on me, love. Just on me,” he muttered between kisses, desperation coating his tone. It wasn’t until he bit your lip, your own blood bursting into your mouth as he bit just a little too hard that you gasped, your shaking arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Simon grins a little sadistically against your lips. “‘Atta girl, there’s my pretty angel, huh?”

You whimpered out an affirmative as Simon picked up and pressed you into the wall, the plaster sticky and bumpy from the gorey spray of the bulletwound. But, with Simon’s hands dipping beneath the waistband of your leggings as he pressed you into it, it was hard to focus on anything but the skipping drag of his bloodied fingers as they skated across your smooth skin.

He was still kissing you, as if his lips alone could absolve you of all of the sin you had just committed. His fingers dipped lower, lower, lower until the rough pad of his thumb swept over the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. Your back arched off the wall, the sweatshirt making a noise similar to tape ripping off of paper as it pulled against the quickly-drying scarlet and pink decorating the plaster. Simon smirked, bringing his face down to mouth at your neck. “That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. You’re okay. Just focus on me,” he whispered between kisses and bites.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your head coming back to rest against the wall as his hands continued their warpath of distraction across your body. His thumb refused to let up against your clit, and between the adrenaline, the kisses on your neck, the whispered words of praise, and the perfect pressure against your sensitive bud, it wasn’t long before you were tumbling over the edge. You pushed at Simon weakly, trying to move him off of you as tears started to form in the corner of your eyes, but Simon shook his head. “No, no, love. You’re okay. No tears, no tears. Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl, and tell me what you need, yeah?” Simon mutters, bringing his hand up to your cheek and wiping a tear away, smearing bloody gore mixed with your fluid across your cheek.

Your mind was reeling, but Simon kept your focus entirely on him. Your entire existence boiled down to this exact moment, with Simon in front of you, your cunt still spasming from his ministrations, and all you could reply with was: “you. I need- I need you. Please, please, Si. Let me have you.”

So, Simon did. With a devilish smirk, he pressed one knee against your core and kept one hand on your hip to keep you pinned in place, as his other hand tugged at his belt and the fly of his jeans. You heard the clink of the metal as he pulled his belt apart, the sharp grinding noise of his fly being opened quickly following it before he was pushing his boxers down just enough to free his cock. Then, his hands were quickly tugging down the waistband of your panties and leggings, pulling them down just enough to allow your cunt to meet the cool air.

You glanced down at him as he ran his own hand up and down his own length a few times. You watched as the unholy combination of blood, viscera, and your own slick mixed together around the head of his cock as he continued to jack himself off. Something was wrong with you. Something had to be wrong with you, because no normal or sane human being would have heat curling in their stomach at this sight. But you did.

You didn’t have long to think about the implications of this though, as Simon glanced up at you, that signature cocky smirk plastered on his plush lips as he leaned his hips forward, the head of his cock nudging against your clit. “So. Fuckin’. Perfect for me, angel. Such a good girl for me. Such a perfect cunt,” Simon praised as he ran the head of his cock up and down your slit a few times. This was one of his favorite parts about fucking you - watching your face contort as he teased you, the way the wanton moans fell obscenely and unabashedly from your lips.

Without warning, he pushed into your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your pulsating walls. You were tight, the adrenaline ensuring that Simon would have to work to fuck you properly. He groaned and leaned his forehead onto your shoulder as your nails scratched down his back. You were babbling nonsense from above him, and he lifted his head slightly to seal his lips over yours. “Shhh, baby, shhh,” he crooned against your lips. “It’s okay, I got you. Relax for me, love. Go ahead, use those pretty little fingers to circle that perfect clit for me, huh? Help me fuck you, baby.”

It was all you could do to obey. Your fingers skated down the blood and gore that covered your body from the wall and Simon’s touch until they reached your aching clit, and you did exactly as he asked. You moaned, the sound an obscene warmth that settled right over Simon’s ego, and he grinned against your lips. “There you go, angel. That’s it. Let me in that perfect fuckin’ pussy, huh?”

Simon quickly shifted your hips against the wall, pulling them further towards him for a better angle, and loud groan punched past his lips as he finally bottomed out.

But it wasn’t enough for you. Not right now, not after all of this. You didn’t have time for soft, for slow, for gentle. You needed Simon to make you forget.

“Simon,” you gasped out. “I need- I need you to move. Please, please, please, fuck me, baby, fuck me. Make me yours.”

A small gasp of surprise left Simon, but what was he supposed to do, deny you? So, he just nodded, and set a punishing pace, his heavy balls slapping your ass repeatedly, the force of his thrusts pushing you further up the wall.

“This what you needed, love? To get so fuckin’ cockdrunk off of me that you can forget everything, hmmm? I got you, angel, I’ll make you forget,” he growls out against the skin of your throat, his teeth catching on the delicate flesh.

It doesn’t take long before you are tumbling over the edge again, your fingers and his cock making you see stars for the briefest of moments before the adrenaline and taboo pleasure of falling apart on Simon’s cock caused you to fully black out, your twitching cunt still spread open over Simon’s cock.

You came to a few minutes (seconds? hours? days?) later, wrapped up in Simon’s arms. You blinked in confusion, not understanding why there was so much wetness all around you. It wasn’t until you felt Simon’s hands in your hair, massaging floral-scented bubbles into the strands that you realized what was happening. He had brought you into the shower to clean you off. You couldn’t bring yourself to look down at the drain, to watch the deep red of Phil and Simon’s blood circle the drain.

As Simon noticed that you had fully came to, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead with a muttered promise. I’m gonna take you far away from here.

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crumble-cookii · 2 years ago

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I made another silly bug boy <3

Orchid Mantis Cookie lives in and rules a kingdom found inside of a large, hollow tree. The Mantis Kingdom is not very welcoming to new people. They are barely welcoming to each other. Despite this, they live in mild harmony under the guide of Orchid Mantis.

Orchid mantises are rare, and their mantis forms help protect the kingdom by using their flower mimicry as defense and food collection. This, along with the fact that he is as big as a female mantis, is why he is the ruler.

Mimi-Cry is a lump of clay that... well, it hates itself. It molds itself to mimic other things but can never keep the form up for long. Mimic-Cry feels attracted to Orchid Mantis because of this, since they both pretend to be things they are not. Mimi-Cry's favorite thing to mimic is flowers, like Orchid Mantis.

At first, Orchid did not like Mimic-Cry, but eventually, as it kept changing into different things to get him to love it back, he grew very fond and protective of the sentient clay lump. Mimic-Cry is now not allowed to leave his side, out of fear it could get hurt.