#fortunately i can't be killed

[powerfulkicks]

guys i think boeing found this post

woag. fatigue is sucks. wait post canceled what the fu k

boeing????

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[limitbreaker23]

Are we still mourning the poor random Demon Hunting Bureau member that Zhu Yan killed in the first episode?

How did they explain this to his family? "Apologies, our new employee did an oopsie. Thoughts and prayers." Zhu Yan: Technically, I'm not an employee.

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #135

I know I tend to send in DPxDC prompts, but today I had A Thought.

I've been playing Warframe again, lately, and I've been grinding for the Operator Affiny things (thank you Zenurik Focus, for blessing me with boundless Energy with which to commit chaos :D )

And a thought struck me: Operators use Transference to pilot a Warframe. It comes from their Void powers, granted to them in an accident, where their ship was about to dimension-jump into the Void. This overlapping of dimensions made the Tenno into something Other (hilariously, they're called Tenno because they were from the Zariman 10-0. Ten-Zero. Ten-O. Tenno) with extra-dimensional powers, among which is a beam of energy from said dimension. Sound familiar?

What I'm getting at here is: Immortal Danny finds himself transported into the Zariman after the tragedy that befell it, and since The Void and the Infinite Realms are neighbouring extra-dimensional planes of existence, he feels right at home with the survivors (canonically, the adults all went insane, while the more adaptable children survived with powers) and helps them with their powers.

Eventually the Orokin find them, as in canon, and take them in as their Tenno Warrior caste. Their Praetorian Guard, of sorts, and build the Prime Warframes for the children to inhabit and pilot.

Danny goes along with it, because hey cool space bio-armor that he can power with his abundance ecto-energy. Maybe Pandora and frostbite might want to take a look, too.

His Warframe? Banshee Prime

Shit happens, as one might say, and as the Tenno are put into cryo-sleep by the the Lotus (Space Mom!!!!) Danny goes back to the Realms, after his vacation is done.

Eons later, the Tenno rise again, to a shattered and warring Solar System.

They reestablish their Relays, and their presence once more brings order and peace to the System. And as the Order once again grows, as more and more Tenno wake up, Teshin, the Last of the Orokin Dax (the Royal Guard) tells them of Banshee Prime, and her incredible powers over sound and voice.

As the Tenno pilots reawaken in their stasis pods in Lua, one remains missing. Tenno across the System all wonder where everyone's favorite older brother went, and what happened to his Banshee Prime Warframe that he always lovingly maintained and repaired himself.

One, the Harrow pilot, peers into the Void, as he typically does, and finds a trace leading to another dimension other than the Void where the Moon had been hidden, with their pods in it.

Essentially, a whole legion of high school murder-inclined feral teens go on a trip to the Ghost Zone to bring back their older brother, so he can once again tell them of the stars and their meanings. They think he would like to have words with some people, and the Main Character has spotted the Lotus look to the stars with grief in her eyes as she wonders on her wayward child's whereabouts.

Danny, for his part, has grown up into his Fenton Brickhouse genes (not being in a stasis pod will do that to you) and is ruling the Realms along with his Council of Ancient, and generally getting his new powers as the Ancient of Space under control, like he's done before with his basic ghost abilities, and later his ice.

What he didn't expect, was for his old siblings to knock down the doors to his Throne room and crowd him, all screeching about how come he grew up when they're all stuck as kids still, and why dies he look so different, and so many questions that he gets a little overwhelmed.

When Clockwork (grandpa), Pandora (mom) and Frostbite (dad) turn to him and his baby siblings, and say Danny really should take a break "for your own health, Your Highness. You're overdue a vacation!"...let's just say the System was ready for the Tenno. Alad V was ready to face them in battle and experiment with their Warframes (the Valkyr lore is horrifying if you pay attention to it).

No one was ready for Phantom and Banshee Prime to take the System by storm, leading an army of feral children with murder-hobo inclinations

[somewhere-in-a-microwave]

I was inspired by those "[something] Danganronpa but the wheel decides their fate

and suddenly started to think "What if I did this with Jet Set Radio?"

So I'm probably going start post at sometime, detailing the eventual havoc that comes, when you have a wheel with the Rudies' names on it.

UPDATE:

The wheel isn't really ready (yet), I've already done a few test-tries to see if it actually worked

[THIS IS ONLY BASED ON THE FIRST JSR GAME]

[naivety]

have to go pick up a washing machine tomorrow a coworker snagged for $75 [!] and lug it all the way upstairs [....] to hook up before somehow draining the old one [...] because it broke mid-cycle washing sheets not once but twice thrown up on by cat [...] and we can't even get it to drain [....] 🙏 and hopefully finish putting together a 2 weeks late little birthday gift box for my sibling because i literally forgot until the night before and wanted to die. and get my axle looked at cause it might be bent. day off ❤️

[cxpperhead]

"Icons only" One of Gotham's vigilantes stopping your crimes!

Send "Icons only" and something for my muse to react to And I will show my muse's reaction using only icons (1-5) and no text

[randomnameless]

Supreme Leader thinks she can help the less fortunate when she's a pampered rich girl who's never known hardship. Yeah uh-huh sure.

I wouldn't say she cannot do it because she has never known hardships that come with being "less fortunate", but more like saying she will fodder them if it serves a greater purpose speaks way more loudly about her goals.

Earlier bloggers said Supreme Leader's idea of "the people" is a sort of monolith or an abstract notion, she's not talking about Bob and Carl, who are going to be foddered, but about future "The People" that will come to exist after her War (or at least that's the plan).

So the Lonato line "I too would sacrifice my randoms" and starting an effing war are, imo, the biggest reasons why her claims about helping the less fortunate are only smoke.

[dankovskaya]

Still so fucking crazy that one of Leon’s absolutely most important character informing moments happens in one of the goddamn Wii railshooters 😭

[oculusxcaro]

One of the things that hurts Khare the most isn't so much the eyes and teeth growing in her flesh but rather her memory issues, how easily she forgets things and struggles with the most basic tasks. Her IQ wasn't impressive before getting experimented on but she lived independently and picked up a range of skills from doing so along with working many odd jobs back in Hull. It's immensely frustrating - and upsetting - to her when it takes so long to learn what should be a simple thing.

[onewomancitadel]

the neo and jaune opening image is about how jaune is gonna wingman for neo to get ruby to like heevwjfhwkfbwlfnwlfne [cherry branwyns has walked into an electric fence]

God forbid Jaune is ever a wingman, if you want Neo to have any chance.

[citriarchive]

for me my meds are like my cane: i would like to not need them, but in my case they are objectively a net positive (i know this isn't the case for everyone) and i will use them because i want and deserve to feel better.

and honestly even then i've evolved with my personal feelings on my usage of both. gone from not wanting to use them at all ever to being thankful i have them when i need them.

it's a crutch in the same way a cane—or a fucking crutch—is a crutch. if you tell me not to use my cane when i know i need it because "i need to learn not to use it" as if I hadn't BEEN doing that, you're getting thwacked over the head with it.

there's a difference between advocating for not IMMEDIATELY overmedicating people (which is good, 100%, jumping immediately to especially high doses of or generally potent medications which could be dangerous for someone is a shitty practice) vs. shaming people for taking medication at all and some of y'all would do well to learn it.

“if you take medication for that, you’ll be taking medication all your life!!” yeah, and?? bud, i already put on my glasses every morning. it’s like. a condition of mine, not a side hobby i’m pursuing irresponsibly. 

[dalishthunder]

..... I have lost all inspiration to create....

[aquaticaberration]

I always feel weird bringing up new things to my therapist because

a) I feel like it just comes out of nowhere to her so I worry that she might think I'm making something up, and if I push that it'll become something that bites me in the ass in the future

b) those things have become such a regular part of my life that I just don't think of them as problems even though they sometimes cause such problems that I keep internalized very well

and c) my depression has overshadowed so much of what I deal with that everything else just pales in comparison, which is part of the problem and why I worry a bit about recovery because it might unlock a lot of other issues like how digging reveals fossils except it's trauma and various mental health issues I've pushed down to be able to function

[bunny-jpeg]

the redbull princess

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, mad!max, rough sex, chokehold, jealousy, jealous!max, slutty!reader, threats of baby trapping, dirty talk/degrading language, bruises & bites

everyone adored you. the angel, the dove, the princess of redbull. beloved by fans, drivers, even the british press had a soft spot for the princess. you even made the likes of toto wolff feel soft with your sweet smiles and positive demeanor.

max had the (mis)fortune of being your teammate, after checo's retirement you were scooped from alpine and given the sought after seat. you were magnetic, charming in ways that made you a darling, even when you failed to win a race. but, you were a winner. a princess in her chariot passing all the others on the track.

max just simply thought that a princess deserved her prince.

"maxie." you pouted as you leaned up against your teammate, "whatcha doing?"

max looked up at you. he was currently on his knees as he tried to set up his sim-racing for the weekend. he asked, "how did you get into my room?"

you shrugged, "don't think about it too hard. i wanted to see what you were doing! you didn't to lunch, so i got... worried." you gave a small laugh. there was a look in your eyes. you weren't here to check on max. not when you were dressed in a tank top, shorts with that thin gold chain around your neck. you played with it between your fingers, "you look like you need a break."

there it was. max chuckled as got up from being almost under the desk. when he stood up, he eventually had to look a little down at you. red bull's princess wasn't the angelic virgin that many assumed. you had a dark streak to you.

you had most of the paddock wrapped around your fingers. charles, george, alex, even horner. and especially max. a simple look got you everything you wanted. a laugh had many men a little flustered. so of course max couldn't help but wrap his arms around your middle and pulling you closer to him. he looked at you, his eyes were so blue.

you licked your lips, "what do you say, maxie... let's have a little fun before our weekend begins.' then leaned in to give his a kiss square on the lips.

the kiss didn't last long before max pulled away and held you by the back of the head. he looked at you, something jealous crossed his expression, "i know what you're trying to do. you think that you can get out of this with a few thrusts of your hips...it's cute honestly, thinking that you're so much smarter than you actually are."

you swallowed and realized that you were playing with fire at that moment. you felt your pulse quicken when he put an hand around your throat. not enough to choke you, but enough to get you looking at him. he smiled and you wondered what he had planned.

you really shouldn't have flirted with max's secondary rival. you shouldn't have been smiles and giggles with lando days prior. you whispered things into the brit's ear and giggled when you pulled away. you didn't get too far, he pulled you in and in a quiet privacy, he kissed you on the lips.

max could've killed lando over that.

you pouted a little more, "i said it was sorry, max. you can't be mad at me forever!" and max crowded your space a little more and looked down at you with something in his eyes that spelled danger.

he said, "no, i can't. but i can try." he took you by the hair, "so i guess you'll just have to make it up to me." and soon you ended face first on the bed. red bull's prince was often possessive of it's princess as he got into bed with you and pulled down your shorts. he pressed his weight up against you to keep you pinned down to the bed.

you moaned, "fuck, max. i'm sorry! i mean it! i mean it!" you tried to squirm out from under him as he got your shorts off of you and near ripped your panties off of you.

max frowned as he got his shirt off over his head, "sorry isn't going to cut it. you are such a whore, you like having all these drivers' eyes on you. i bet you've fucked top to bottom the grid." he raked his nails down your sides and watched you try to get out from his touch.

you whimpered, "no! no!" you knew that was a lie. if max wasn't going to fuck you tonight. you had a few other keycards in your back pocket. you were that charming. max was just lucky to be your first pick.

and you knew that he wouldn't give up the chance to sink into your poor cunt tonight. give you something to scream about. he stripped you of your clothes, tossed them off the bed before he was fully nude as well. he bit into your shoulder roughly as he sank his teeth in your shoulder and pressed himself further against you.

the indents of his teeth promised a bruise come morning. and he held onto you tightly as he moved at a quick pace. his voice in your ear with his chest against your back. there was no escaping max verstappen, "you know you can be a good girl, right? i know it's in you. the press think you're so perfect princess and you could be that if you just stop being a goddamn whore. i see right through the act, i know after a race you want this cunt stuffed. you want to squirm on my cock, you want it to hurt. because you are a glutton for pain. a disgrace to all women in the sport. you set them back by being a stupid, cock hungry slut." his words burned in your brain and you felt the heat pool in your gut.

you gasped into the covers and said, "please, max. holy shit. ah!" you knew that max was the best fuck in the grid. at least to you. most gave you the princess treatment or were worried about being too rough. you found them boring unless you were in a bit of a pinch.

but not max. the current world champion fucked you until there were sparks in your vision. he left your pussy soaked and your brain empty. he made all his degrading words ring true, you were nothing more than a soft cunt for max to fuck. that was why you always came back to him. he had that effect on you.

he was your favourite. not that you'd let him know that. as he thrusted up into you and left you feeling the pleasurable heat in the back of your head and down your shoulders. it was the buzz that left you shaking. it was the heated want that left you panting into the covers.

you were the princess, but max knew better than that. the smiles were all part of your little performance. if you had it your way, you'd be doing interviews with runny mascara and cock down your throat. but, you were still very capable on the track. one of the best they ever had, you just enjoyed having your world flipped inside out and upside down due to orgasm after orgasm. that max was more than happy to provide.

"please, max. fuck, please max!" you gasped loudly. your back arched, but you didn't get too far. you were rather stuck under max as he fucked up into you. the headboard rocked against the white wall of the room.

"you don't deserve the princess treatment they give you. the press give you. you don't deserve any of it! you deserve whatever you can get it. you let men much more powerful than you do terrible things to you." he wrapped his arm around your throat and continued to fuck up into you. the bed moved every more as he jackhammered his cock inside of you. your body bounced with each of his movements.

you felt stupid as he fucked you. your tongue hung out of your mouth a little as his cock hit against all against the right areas. he knew exactly how to make you crazy. how to make you feel so much dumber with strokes of his hips.

"but you're mine." he said, "in the end your mine. i let you play your silly little games, be the charming little flirt i know you are." he tensed up his arm around your throat as he continued to slam his cock in and out of you. the pace was brutal and the movements made your heartbeat hammer in your ears. he could feel every inch of you as he fucked you with a fierce fever.

you tried to say something, but the words died in your throat.

he chuckled and kissed the side of your face. then he pushed your face further into the covers. he still held you in a choke-hold as he fucked you roughly. he said quietly as the bed squeaked under you, "i'm not stupid, princess. you think i'm some idiot, but i'm not... maybe tonight's the night we end these little games. what do you say? maybe tonight you and i should make a baby... end these games and finally make you all mine."

you whined and tried to get out of his grasp. but he was simply much stronger. he chuckled and kissed you on the face once more as he quickened his pace. it left you feeling on cloud nine as he really worked himself inside of you.

the princess was at his mercy. such a shame.

with a few more heavy thrusts, you came around his cock. your noise was a high pitched as you clawed at the covers. you panted heavily and felt so pathetic under him. and he loved the sight of you, you looked beautiful. angelic. he had you all to himself.

"see, you can be a good! make such a good mother to my children. that'll fix you right now." he buried his face in your neck as he continued to fuck you roughly. he didn't last much longer, a few more heavy thrusts of his hips and he was finishing inside of you with a hot groan in your ear.

he kept his arm around you, a hold to keep you still while he fucked his spent cock inside of you to push all the cum further inside of you. the over stimulation let you feeling dizzy. and when max finally let go of you, you laid out on the bed like a dumb little toy.

he slapped your ass before he panted heavily beside you. you curled up next to him, there was a reason why he was your favourite fuck of them all. he took you by the jaw and you looked back at him.

"going to behave now?"

"yes, maxie."

-

max heard your giggled nearby and his head whipped around.

you looked at max out of the corner of your eye before you went back to kissing lando deeply. you smiled against the kiss before you said to lando, "why don't you come visit me tonight, we could have some before the weekend?' and winked at the other driver.

max clenched his fists and exhaled deeply. like hell lando was going to your room tonight. because by the time he got there, max would already be keeping those greedy holes of your filled.

he knew the last thing you wanted was the princess treatment. <3

[shotmrmiller]

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