#being a car salesman

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant for Comic Relief Red Nose Day 2024

for Tennant Tuesday (or whatever day this post finds you)

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

A couple of clowns sharing a couple of jokes.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

MandelaBioTech Staff, Dave Lee and Amanda Harlow (this aus preacher)

They’re. Funny (evil)

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about fallout 4 against my will

[hatchetsfield-arch]

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞  𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬  𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭  𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞  𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬  𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬  𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞  𝒔𝒉𝒆  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆.  jane  lifts  her  head  to  look  at  emma,  wide  eyed,  and  it’s  all  she  can  do  before  those  three  words  take  all  jane’s  senses  hostage  -  causing  every  function  of  her  body  to  stall  like  the  failing  engine  of  an  old  car.  𝒔𝒉𝒆  𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔  𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇  𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐  𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒊𝒂’𝒔  𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏  𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒔.  in  nostalgia’s  embrace,  jane  can  smell  its  perfume  —  fragrances  of  summer  nights  spent  pretending  to  chase  away  the  boogeymen  from  emma’s  closet,  traces  of  campfires  and  the  marshmallows  jane  would  enthusiastically  show  emma  how  to  toast,  hints  of  old  children’s  storybooks  jane  would  read  to  emma  in  their  father’s  recliner.    

but  then  reality  quickly  yanks  jane  from  out  the  arms  of  nostalgia,  and  the  cologne  it  wears  —  fragrances  of  antiseptic,  traces  of  bleach  and  disinfectant  with  hints  of  saline  is  far  less  pleasant.  

jane  doesn’t  respond  at  first,  ���𝚑𝚎  𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢  𝚘𝚏  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗  𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎.  for  a  few  tense  moments,  the  only  sounds  are  the  beeping  of  the  monitors  and  the  distant  chatter  of  nurses  walking  past  the  closed  door  of  jane’s  hospital  room.  the  tears  in  her  eyes  are  faster  than  the  words  on  her  tongue,  and  it  saturates  them  with  all  the  emotion  jane  has  stored  deep  in  her  gut  for  years  and  years;  ❝  oh,  peanut.  ❞  she  says,  tears  welling  ever-faster  in  her  eyes  as  she  uses  emma’s  childhood  nickname,  a  nickname  jane  herself  created,  a  nickname  jane  herself  doesn’t  even  know  the  last  time  she  had  called  emma  by  it.  

tears  stream  endlessly  down  her  cheeks,  now  saturating  the  collar  of  the  hospital  gown  she  wore.  ❝  i  love  you  too,  peanut.  so  much.  i  —  ❞  the  sudden  increase  of  the  beeping  on  the  monitor  tattles  on  jane’s  racing  heart,  ❝  i  -  i’m  sorry,  if  i  never  made  that  clear  to  you  before  .  .  .  if  i  didn’t  do  enough,  didn’t  say  enough  -  with  mom  and  dad.  if  i  was  a  part  of  the  reason  you  left  and  never  came  to  visit.  i’m  your  big  sister,  em,  i’m  supposed  to  be  your  anchor  .  .  .  .  i’m  sorry  that  i  wasn’t  enough  of  an  anchor  to  keep  you  here,  or  to  make  you  feel  safe  or  understood.  ❞    

jane’s  hand  crosses  the  small  distance  between  herself  and  the  rickety  chair  where  emma  sits  bedside.  jane  take  one  of  emma’s  hands  in  her  own,  the  other  cupping  emma’s  cheek.  and  for  a  moment,  jane  stares  at  her,  stares  at  her  baby  sister  (  for  no  matter  how  grown  or  independent  emma  gets,  she’ll  always  be  her  baby  sister  )  𝙖𝙣𝙙  𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨  𝙞𝙣  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩  𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩  𝙨𝙝𝙚’𝙨  𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚  𝙖𝙣𝙙  𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚  𝙖𝙨  𝙨𝙝𝙚  𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙟𝙖𝙗  𝙤𝙛  𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨  𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙤𝙬  𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚  𝙤𝙛  𝙝𝙚𝙧  𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜  𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩,  𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙨  𝙞𝙩  𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣  𝙞𝙩  𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨;  𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴  𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺  𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦  𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦  𝘺𝘰𝘶  𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵  𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥  𝘰𝘯  𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴.  

she  also ignores  its  follow  up  retort  of  how  @beaniestm  could  just  be  a  mere hallucination  caused  by  the  myriad  of  pain  meds  they  have  her  on.

❝  i’m  sorry,  peanut.  for  everything.  but  —  but  i’m  still  here,  and  you’re  here,  now,  and  .  .  .  and  maybe  we  can  keep  it  that  way?  keep  that  here  and  now  permanent?  ❞  her  fingers  travel  up  to  brush  away  a  few  fallen  strands,  tucking  them  back  behind  emma’s  ear.  

𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕  𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆  𝒋𝒂𝒏𝒆  𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔  𝒂𝒏𝒅  𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔  𝒔𝒉𝒆’𝒅  𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅  𝒊𝒏  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒚𝒂𝒓𝒅,  𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌  𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏  𝒔𝒉𝒆  𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍  𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅  𝒉𝒆𝒓  𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒕.

jane  pulls  back  then,  only  slightly,  and  attempts  to  lighten  the  tense  and  sterile  atmosphere  with  a  joke;  

❝  if  i’d  known  all  it  took  to  get  you  to  come  home  was  a  little  car  crash,  i’d  have  done  it  ages  ago.  ❞  

jane  winces,  𝙗𝙪𝙩  𝙞𝙩’𝙨  𝙣𝙤𝙩  𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢  𝙖𝙣𝙮  𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡  𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣  —  𝙣𝙤𝙩  𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢  𝙖𝙣𝙮  𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙣  𝙩𝙝𝙚  𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙨  𝙞𝙣  𝙝𝙚𝙧  𝙄.𝙑.  𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙  𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥  𝙨𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚.  the  awkwardness  is  a  bitter  reminder  why  she  became  a  therapist  and  not  a  comedian.  ❝  shit,  em  i’m  sorry,  i  didn’t  mean  it  like  that—  ❞

[vivitalks]

pjo show better not cut out Crusty's Water Bed Palace i need to see percy bargain a man to his death

[manofthepipis]

I don’t know if you had any future plans for this, but.. what would exactly happen if Spamton unfortunately overheated his NEO body? Would he,, self-destruct like we see him do when taking the FIGHT route in his battle? Or would he rather just,, “power off”/force reset and be in like a undetermined state on unconsciousness until his body cooled down? Good thing that Jevil was there when he was! Who knows what would’ve happened if he actually did overheat and now Jevil+ the poor Addisons have to brainstorm of what to do with his body and fast LMFAO. Or who knows? Maybe he would just turn into the Dealmaker again!

Also a silly little side note, when the Addisons are more chill/cool with spamNEO in the future, I can just see NEO Spamton carrying the Addisons in like, the palm of his had while they go grocery shopping or something and the rest of castle town is like ?????? Why do these salesmen have a voltron knockoff Uber driver LMAOO

aaa great question!! :D

this au im taking some lil creative liberties, where after he's cut down and downloads neo into himself, if he were to overheat, it would lead to a shutdown and he'd crash, like his pacifist ending until he was cool enough to get back up. it's an inconvenience for sure but godlike power has its drawbacks lmao. i'd think the alternate ending to that chapter would be he would shut down and jevil would just hang around until the addisons inevitably found him and he'd give them the fright of a lifetime (as if a powered-down neo isn't scary and unpredictable enough)

i do like that idea of turning into the dealmaker. Perhaps he could 'save himself' by turning back just before shutting down while neo, including turning into the glasses and just being powered off that way. The adds, if they found him, would probably be really concerned the dealmaker wasn't talking (or if they know this is just one of spamton's average things, one of them would wear the dealmaker until he woke up)

also hfjdkdkdkdk that side note yes absolutely i've had that as a mental image since the very beginning or something similar like he's carrying all four of them on his shoulders or on his arms like theyre birds. darkners wonder what this robot is until they see a regular spamton and it's a race between them connecting the dots on their own or spamton boasting about being neo bc of his lack of self control

[unanimoustwins]

hey guys crazy q lore right? if u wanna talk about it with some cool ppl feel free to join my adults only (NOT NSFW) qsmp lore discussion server!

https://discord.gg/p2HFa9cBF

[marlynnofmany]

Bringing this back for anyone else who may be Experiencing A Weather right now

*giant wind gust outside*

Me: “Don’t say it.”

My Brain:

[muntitled]

Protecting His Investment

Pairings: The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: No one gets to hurt you except him.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Language, Implied Violence, Age gap, God Complex, Brainwashing, Psychopathy, Murder, Blood, Gore, Codependency, Yandere!Salesman, Stalking, Smut (+18) mdni, Voyeurism, Blood Kink, Sadomasocism, Dom!Salesman, Sub!Reader, Choking, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Blood Play, fingering, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Sadism, Punishments, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Squirting, Overstimulation

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

This can be read as a continuation of this fic but not strictly

“Shouldn't I be blindfolded?"

If it weren't for the silence simmering between you both, in this monotonous taxi drive, he might’ve not heard you at all and perhaps you should have been more careful with your choice of wording but you were feeling a tiny bit reckless this Wednesday afternoon. He hadn't ever offered to personally fetch you from campus, and you felt incredibly juvenile when you spotted him standing there like a dad, in his grown-up suit while his briefcase hung in his hands in front of him. You'd almost convinced yourself that you were imagining things. That somehow your obsession with the man who kidnaps you every Wednesday to fulfill all his messed up fantasies was truly taking a toll on your mental health.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he was real. And he had come to pick you up and you were feeling awfully giddy as he ushered you both into a taxi while a few of your peers stood and stared.

By now he would've blindfolded you. Keeping you completely clueless to the location he brings you to every Wednesday. See, your Salesman had myriad deep rooted issues. Mania. Sociopathy. Sadism. But the issue that irked you the very most was his inability to trust. Before you know it, you're pouting up a storm as you ask him. "Why aren't we using the blindfold today?"

He slowly removes his gaze from the window, where he had been pondering like the old man he is. He quirks up an eyebrow, letting the intensity of his attention wash completely over you.

"Would you like to be blindfolded?" He asks playfully. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and his lips are quirked up like it usually is when he's being sardonic. Still, you remain cautious as you lean forward. You send one quick glance to the taxi driver, wondering if you were being led in some kind of hearse on the road to your death.

"A-Are you going to kill me?" For the first time, cold, white fear ices the warm blood rushing through your veins. Come to think of it, he did seem far chirpier than usual. Perhaps that should have been your first warning. The flags were blood red but you were wearing rose-tinted glasses.

He only snickers before placing a heavy hand on your head, patting it down.

He doesn't answer you for the duration of the taxi drive, causing you to slip more and more into your thoughts of morbidity and despair. Why else wouldn't he blindfold you if not to end your life once you got there? It seemed dreadfully logical and so on-brand for him. He'd get bored of you sooner or later and then he'd dispose of you. There'd be no need to blindfold you any longer while he took you to his place because you'd soon become a corpse and-

"Doll." The voice cuts through the chatter filling your brain. All at once, the car has stopped, and warm air rushes into the interior as he holds the door open for you. "Get out of the nice man's car." He jests politely, quickly prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scramble out of the taxi.

The second you're out he walks ahead of you. The building that comes into focus before you have your brows crinkling.

You quickly catch up to him, gazing up at his monotonous face. "Why are we here? You never come to my house."

He doesn't respond as you both walk into the foyer. He walks briskly and powerfully, like a man on the move while you send a small wave to the security manning the front desk. You both enter an empty elevator and he presses a button without you ever having to tell him which floor.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

He lowers his gaze to you, one eyebrow quirked up.

"You only die when you disappoint me and as of late," he stares directly ahead, "You haven't disappointed me."

The elevator dings and he steps out. You follow him like a puppy without a leash. "In fact I'd say your work ethic as of late has been-" he blows out a long sigh as he makes it your apartment door- recalling all the weeks you two have spent together in vivid kaleidoscopic images. All the pain you let him inflict on you and pleasure he'd offer as a reward.

"-nothing short of stellar. I'm proud of you." He punches in the code to your apartment and you both enter. The curtains are drawn shut because your roommate hates sunlight. You preferred it but there was no communicating with something like her.

He kicks off his shoes at the door.

"What are we doing here?" You ask nervously, "My roommate will be back soon and she isn't very nice."

"We won't be playing at my place today." He says finally meeting your wild and nervous eyes. He seems so lax and so in control. "We'll be playing here."

"B-But my roommate."

"Is that why you were crying?" His gaze keeps you rooted to the floors, unable to move even if you wanted to, "Because of your roommate?"

"Crying? I wasn't crying-"

"Back at the university," he says, casually removing a microscopic piece of lint from his grey blazer, "Your head was beant and you looked up at me with bloodshot eyes." His eyes shine with amusement as he says, "Usually with our sessions, the crying only comes later on." Then he quirks his head and asks, "What happened?" There's a bang somewhere in the apartment and your head snaps forward. Your eyes scan over the adjoining living room and kitchen but he seems unfazed.

"It's stupid-" you shake your head, "Like who even still gets bullied in uni?"

You laugh pitifully, leaning against the nearest wall. He stands tall before you. A brick wall.

"Your roommate's threatening to kick you out of this apartment to move her boyfriend in?" He asks before adding, "Again."

Your head snaps up to him, "H-How-"

In that moment, he turns rather robotically, making his way deeper into your home. It's clean. Thank God.

"You don't realize how chatty you get when you're about to orgasm." He says before stopping right outside your closed bedroom door.

"My roommate- she... decided last night that- well- she would really like her boyfriend to live here instead-"

"Without consulting you first?" He clarifies, staring blankly ahead at the door, listening very attentively.

"Y-Yes without consulting me." You bring your hand to the doorknob, on your way to open it but he stops you with an iron grip around your wrist. You wince.

“Continue talking.” He says and you do.

"This morning they both kinda sprung on me that they'd like to be living here now. She went behind my back and already placed the deposit down our landlord, well," you clear your throat. "I might be homeless soon." You laugh but then swallow very thickly as the gravity of the situation falls onto your shoulders.

"And still you decided to have our sessions today?"

"If you'll have me," you nod.

"Remarkable." He replies. "Well I've never been very fond of my things or my toys getting dirty." He begins mysteriously as he places his hand directly over yours on the doorknob.

"Pardon?"

"I can't have my favorite toy living out on the street. Who knows what kind of animals would try to rape you or drug you or fucking stick their slimey dicks inside you-" he turns the doorknob, clicking your room open.

You're not even sure when this started happening. These 'private sessions' with your Salesman that quickly bled into something much more concerning. Before you knew it, he was seeping into your brain, polluting you with obsession. There had never ever been anyone else involved.

"What the hell did you do?" You ask, slowly entering your room to find two chairs placed directly in front of your bed. As soon as you enter, you hear the blood curdling, muffled screams being ripped from the throat of the two people strapped to those chairs.

"I'm protecting my investment," Says your Salesman as he pushes the door closed behind you.

Your feet feel like lead as you watch them and their panic-stricken eyes. There in front of you, they sit opposite one another, both with a haggard countenance and tears streaming down their cheeks.

At the sight of you, your roommate screams something horrid but it's muffled by the gag placed in her mouth, a gag the shape of a dog bone.

He's there too. The boyfriend. He's not as loud or as frantic as she is but he's significantly startled. His eyes are wild and vacant. The same gag.

"Oh my god-" you begin but he cuts in front of you, making his way to the couple seated across from each other.

"We're all gonna play a game- a quick one," He says, "Can't play for too long because I've been dying to get inside you since I saw those pretty little bloodshot eyes."

"Sir- I"

If you knew his name you might've screamed it in this moment. 'Sir' is your only point of reference to address the manic man in front of you.

This isn't right.

Right?

You're so confused, you barely register than you've thought out loud. It hits you as he slowly shrugs his blazer off.

"What isn't right is them thinking they can rape this apartment from underneath you." He says, folding it and placing it meticulously over your desk.

"I- have neighbors!?" You begin but he has a plan for that too.

"I had your room soundproofed since our first session." You're pushed into even more confusion.

"WHAT!? When did you even-"

"While you were at school-" he says before uncovering a handgun from his briefcase. A handgun and a silencer.

"Point is, Doll, I'm going to need you to play a game for me, ok?"

"DOLL!?" Comes your roommates' mortified and muffled cries.

"I need you to make one tiny decision for me." He says, screwing on the silencer onto the barrel of the revolver. It strikes you then that even when the mask is off, and the worst workings of his personality are on display for all to gaze upon, you still find him breathtakingly attractive.

"If-" tears burn the back of your throat, "If this room is soundproof why-why do you need a silencer?"

"I'm nothing if not a cautious man, you know this." Then his expression turns very grave and very dark as he says. "Don't you?"

“Yes, Sir,” you reply almost automatically. Like your need to respond to him- to please him, greatly overpowered your moral compass. “You're extremely cautious.”

Your roommate releases a shrill noise from the very back of her throat, her eyes pleading with the humanity she desperately tries to find in yours.

“Out of these two, he's my least favourite,” Your Salesman says, standing beside you. Eyes wild as he points his gun to the boyfriend's head.

“But this isn't about me,” he turns to face you, slowly dragging you gaze away from the victims that had once been your tormentors. You look up at him with a broken sob slipping through your lips. “I need you to choose.”

There it is.

His words seem to detonate what little fate you had in his humanity. There is nothing in his eyes except hedonism and violence.

"I'm going to have you to choose very quickly, baby-”

You're already shaking your head as frazzled braids tickle your shoulders. Your eyes find theirs and you immediately say, “I'm not going to do it.”

When you look at him again, you're almost horrified to find the smile that had once been on his face, completely wiped away. His face is a shadow and it strikes you way more than anything ever has. Something in you scolds you. It gnaws at you to make things right.

“Don't do that.” He says darkly. “Don't disappoint me.”

His hands -one still holding a gun- moves to cup both your cheeks. He cranes your neck further back, gazing deeply. “I can't have you living on the street.”

“You don't have to kill anyone-”

His jaw ticks, “Pick.”

“Sir…”

“You're disappointing me.”

All it takes is those three words to have your world crashing to the floor. Tears blur your vision as you raise a trembling finger.

“Him. I pick him.”

It's the first time you realized that you were brimming with codependency

Or stupidity.

Or maybe both

“That's a good girl.” He coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The father you never had.

He lets his eyes meet that of the boyfriend who is shaking and writhing in seat.

“What a good fucking girl I have, wouldn't you agree?” He asks the boyfriend yet he only cries and cries and cries. Meanwhile, you're bathing in the warm, milky words of praise.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to agree to much in a second-"

He raises the gun.

Wait-" but the trigger is already pulled, and the bullet slices through the air and the deed is done.

It's remarkable how fast it travels. The speed of the bullet. Like it's competing with light itself. One moment his head is there and his brain is inside it, functioning like usual and the next moment, it's splattered all across my bedroom wall, coating your stuffed animals and drenching your pink bedding.

“You killed someone…”

“We killed someone, and you did such a good job. Now we're real rich people-”

You shake your head.

“Oh my fucking god we killed someone-”

It's stupid, but the first thought that comes to mind is-

“How- How am I gonna get the stain out!?”

“I'll get you new sheets, Doll, I promise…”

Meanwhile the roommate is crying and screaming her throat hoarse. You watch gravely as vomit soaks her gag.

“That's fucking disgusting.” He says before turning back to you. A spray of blood scatters across the side of his handsome face. He'd just committed murder and yet you still describe him as handsome.

“You're not disgusting at all.” He says, “You're so clean and beautiful.” His large hands rub over your face. “And now this apartment's yours. Ours. Maybe.”

Ours.

That word somehow affects you more than the murder you'd just lay witness to. It has you staring up at him with grateful, love-filled eyes. You're still scared but, you were his. And that was a powerful feeling. You'd never belonged to anyone before. Certainly not any man as handsome or smart as this. This isn't rose-tinted glasses anymore, it's rose-tinted vision.

“We killed someone.” You say. Solidifying the fact that you were a couple.

Your heart rages in its cage when his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

“Fuck yes we did,” he moans before smashing his lips down onto yours. Confusion and discomfort wage a terrific and bloody war inside you as he kisses you absolutely dizzy. Your insides are swirling and your stomach is turning at the sight of the blood drenching your walls.

he tips your head up, forcing his tongue in and he moans when you let him. Your tongues touch and coax and he pulls you in close.

“You know how good you looked when I picked you up earlier, Doll? I loved seeing those bloodshot eyes of yours.” He mumbles, “I just hated not being the one to make you cry.”

You sob something awful. The sound escapes you while your lips are still plastered to his.

“But this is all me,” he says proudly, gazing down at your watery eyes as he pins you up against the wall. “This is all me.”

Your roommate sits in a daze. Over his wide shoulder, her eyes stare blankly into yours and you almost find yourself mouthing the words 'I'm sorry'.

Almost. But you never do.

Your brain is too clouded by feelings of fear, regret, pleasure and… satisfaction. In your defense her boyfriend really fucking sucked.

"Take this off." He groans, lowering his large build to the floor to shove your shorts and underwear down. Undressing you almost formally as he lifts your one leg out followed by the other.

Your eyes are still on her.

Every vile word she's said to you. Every occasion she'd bring her equally cruel friends over and they'd gossip about you loud enough for their words to carry through the walls.

You realize very gravely that your care is waning.

That humanity that was still left inside you is thinning.

And he's pressing wet kisses against your legs, worshipping the soft cellulite at your thighs.

A man in a suit at his knees for you and she's forced to watch.

It makes you feel so-

"Fucking beautiful, fuck." He groans.

The more riled up he is, the less care he gives to how crass his language becomes. As if trapped in a daze, with your eyes still on your tormentor -your bully- you hook your fingers into his hair. Parting your legs you lead his mouth to your exposed cunt and he slurps you up for all your worth.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he eats you out with vigor. He flattens his tongue and suctions his mouth against your clit, causing a deep and guttural moan to spill from your lips.

He pulls back, breathing raggedly, "Fuck my face," he commands, before placing both hands on your ass, enough to have your cunt riding his open mouth. It feels so fucking good your eyes are stinging with tears. You let them fall because you'd know he'd appreciate it. He appreciates every tear in your confidence. Every waver in your air-tight judgement. It undoes him completely to see you so fucking pathetic.

He looks up at you while you're riding him. Those morally black eyes are urging you to hump his face and you do.

At the sight of your tears falling his nails dig into your ass and you moan more. All the sounds you're able to make are in intelligible sounds of pleasure. But you force yourself to come to your senses. Just long enough to whisper

"Th-Thank you, Sir,"

He stills. Completely stunned.

You come. It crashes down on you all while your roommate tries to squeeze her crying eyes shut, shaking her head as if trying to delude herself into believing none of this is real.

"You are fucking fire, you know that?" He croaks, slowly rising. You're breathing oh so quickly and it only speeds up at the sight of your arousal casting his jaw.

“I wanna fucking hurt you so bad. I wanna eat you. I wanna fuck you. I wanna do so many unspeakable things to you- you're so perfect.”

He throws one more gaze over his shoulder. His almond eyes scan over the body, then the girl and he groans, furiously undoing his belt.

"How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he says, almost to himself.

"Answer me." He presses his body firmly against yours, until your spine is straight against the wall. "Fucking answer me when I talk to you."

He growls before bringing a hand up to your chin. It's painful the way he grabs you, but you're so used to pain. It lives here now. Between you both.

"I-I- don't know-" you really don't know and he melts at that.

"I'll tell you how, Princess. " he wraps your leg around his waist, "People like me- people we call crazy and evil-” His eyes are so wide, his smile too. -we get nice things. And people like that-" he quirks his head backwards, “The weak? Those people on the streets, they die.” He says, grinding his cock agaisnt your cunt, “And we don't die, yeah?"

"Oh fuck." You're seeing stars when his cock sinks into your cunt. It's hard and raging and he's already doing multiple shallow thrusts to force it deeper. "S-So big-" you can't talk, you hardly ever can when he's like this. Fucking you into an absolute frenzy.

"You gonna squirt for me, Doll?” he grits his teeth, hips stuttering as he ravages you against the wall. "F-Fuck." Some

“She's a really good squirter-” he turns his head to watch your roommate over his shoulder. Her head is slumped forward, she's fainted perhaps.

After weeks of trying to impress him, to show him that you were not the weak little thing he had first kidnapped- you realize it's paid off. He caveman grunts as he fucks you deeper and harder and a cry rips itself from your throat.

“Y-You want me?” You ask with trembling lips.

“Baby,” he breathes directly into your mouth. “I need you.”

"F-Fuck-" your orgasm sneaks up on you and he watches with immense gratification as you come undone on his cock.

“You're making a mess on my cock-” clear liquid streams out of hou, threatinging tk lush his cock out but he fucks you through it.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you, baby. You're gonna take it, aren't you? My good girl's gonna fucking take it,” he throws his head back as his eyes flutter closed and soon he's fucking spurts of warm cum into you.

It fills you completely until the mess is coating your thighs. Through your wave of endless euphoria you see stars, the planets and him in the very centre of it all, guiding you and coaxing you through the bountiful high.

Even when he's done, his cock is still nestled deep inside you, pushing you over the brink of stimulation.

"You're very promising.” He admits, “Always have been.”

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[feral-teeth]

I think im fine and then realize if i gave my brain to a neurotypical person for a day they would probably die, like then and there, as soon as they got it

*slaps the roof of my brain like a car* this baby can fit so much trauma and thoughts and anxiety in there, you wouldn’t even KNOW what to do with it and its a SHOCK that the brain fluid isn’t leaking out of their ears!!!!

[muchroom]

isaac keeps daydreaming about being a used car salesman who fucks men on the hoods of unsold cars. you guys call crow the horny one - open your eyes. crow talks the talk. isaac walks the walk. in the most insane way possible

[bi-writes]

simon being protective of his mail order bride scratches all the right spots in my brain.

mail-order bride

you're almost relieved when you hear the knock at the door. you've been a holding a tree pose for a few minutes too long, and the girl hosting the online yoga class is starting to fry your eardrums with her too-perky voice.

you're sweating bullets, and her hair hasn't moved a fucking inch out of her ponytail.

you mute the television, wiping your forehead before making your way to the front door. you open it with a sigh, not really knowing what you expected to see, but it certainly wasn't the average-dressed man standing on the steps there.

you blink, raising a brow when his eyes roam over you, and you realize suddenly that you're wearing workout clothes, which is showing off a little more than you'd like to some rando standing on your doorstep.

"uh..." you look around a little. "i'm sorry, can i help you?"

he smiles. it's a little unnerving.

"right, yeah, i'm starting a business around here, and i wanted to ask if you've been needing any help with any fixtures around the house. i'm giving a 50% discount if you give me a rating on google."

you open your mouth for a moment, frowning.

"uhm..." you shake your head, "sorry. we don't need any help right now."

"you live here alone? sometimes it's hard to spot when the electric's on the piss, y'know? need a keen eye," he laughs, coming up one of the steps. you shake your head again.

"no, thanks."

he's a wiry man, but he's tall (not taller than your husband, but taller than you). you step back a little and start to close the door. he comes up the steps. out of the corner of your eye, you see the cat slip out between your legs, hissing a little as the distance closes between you and the man.

"wait! can i give you my contact info? i don't have a card, but i can leave you my--"

the sound of simon's truck pulling into the garage gets both of you to look behind. simon doesn't even park all the way inside. he throws the truck door open, stepping out of it, and the man on your steps moves back away from you immediately, making his way off the little porch.

simon looks huge, more so than ever. his steps are heavy, boots hitting the ground like a warning bell, and he's wearing just a short-sleeved shirt that's showing off those glorious fucking arms. you have never doubted simon's strength, but he looks like he could flip a car with the anger that's leaving him in heavy waves. you're surprised that you are not afraid; you just know somehow that simon won't touch you.

"oi!" simon yells, and the man definitely understands he picked the wrong fucking house to be a creepy salesman at when his knees nearly buckle as he tries to walk away. "where the fuck do y'think y'r goin', you twat?"

you sigh deeply, not realizing how much you were shaking until you notice your hands trembling around the doorknob. you watch as simon catches the guy by his dirty jean jacket, nearly lifting him completely off his feet as he drags him towards the fence gate.

"hey! hey! i didn't do anything!"

"i saw ya, ya fuckin' arse, know exactly wot the fuck y'were doin'," simon growls, tossing him onto the sidewalk. he hits the pavement with a cry, holding onto his arm, and simon slams the fence gate closed before pointing at him accusingly. "'f i ever see ya anywhere near m'fuckin' house or even askin' m'wife for so much as fuckin' directions, i'll cut y'r bloody prick off, y'hear?"

you blink as simon comes closer, the cat retreating back into the house once they see him. he keeps walking, crowding you back into the house before he shuts and locks the front door. his chest is heaving, black t-shirt doing nothing to hide the puff of his chest and how large he makes himself when he stands up to other men. he doesn't even need to make himself larger; simon takes up enough space for two men combined.

"he touch you?" simon asks, his voice low. you see his fists clench, and you have no doubt that if you said yes, simon would go outside and paint the pavement a new color with the man's face.

you shake your head frantically, and he lets out a deep breath, reaching up and wrapping a hand around the back of your head and pulling you close.

he bends, pressing his masked forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he breathes in slowly. he rubs at the nape of your neck, soothing you, and you smile when he pulls away, giving him those big eyes that say thank you, thank you, thank you.

simon cocks his head, staring behind you, and you turn with him to see the cat blinking slowly at the two of you from it's place on the windowsill.

"should get you a fucking guard dog instead," simon mutters, pulling his mask off and kicking his boots into the corner. you smile as he walks away, trying to cool your warm cheeks with the backs of your hands.

doesn't he know you already have one?

[justthatspiffy]

went w/ bf to check out a cheap used car and he got upsold despite having been preapproved for a loan through his credit union

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about nora again

[stealingyourbones]

Fic prompt, Young Justice era:

Robin(Tim) and Superboy break into the Fenton Ops Center after discovering a faction of the DEO that was created exclusively for dealing with ghosts.

They came across this sub-agency while combing through hacked documents after saving Greta, and found out the Department of Extranormal Operations formed the Ghost Investigation Ward and gets special ghost-hunting weapons from mad scientist inventors in a small Illinois town.

Danny (with his sharper senses) hears the break in and goes to investigate with the Fenton Creep Stick. Robbers get hired on occasion to steal inventions that aren’t patented yet. He hears movement just on the other side of the door and goes in swinging. Hits Superboy in the back and makes him stumble, which causes serious alarm from the two heroes.

“That actually almost hurt!” Superboy says in surprise, staring wide-eyed at the new kid holding a splintered baseball bat.

“You cracked the Creep Stick,” Danny stares at the bat with his mouth open. “I didn’t know it could break.”

“Rob? I think this guy has powers.”

Danny looks up, blinking in shock, “Your name is Rob? And you became a Robber? Dude. You don’t have to define yourself by what your parents named you.”

Superboy tries to hide his laughter while Robin sputters. “I’m not - They didn’t -”

“Oh!” Danny has an epiphany. “Did you name yourself that? I chose my name too, but I’m just Danny. I didn’t go and name myself after an illegal profession. Like, can you imagine if I was an arsonist named Bernie? Or a skeevy car salesman named Otto? I know it’s hard to choose a name when you’re trans, and, I gotta admit, being a robber named Rob is hilarious, but there’s more options out there, I promise. For names and career paths.”

Superboy is wheezing at this point and Robin’s face is near fuchsia. Instead of addressing any of that, Robin gets angry.

“We aren’t robbers! We’re heroes! I’m Robin. that’s Superboy. Your parents sell weapons that hurt people and we’re here to stop that!”

Danny tosses the broken Creep Stick over his shoulder and smiles wide.

“Why didn’t you say so! Oh man, this is great. I’ve been sabotaging their stuff for years. If you’re here to help I’ve got a couple projects you can definitely smash.”

.