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the-cat-at-the-theatre-door · 10 months

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"What do you mean, 'a cat like me'?"

"What do you mean 'a cat like me'?"

Though not enough to silence the general hustle and bustle of the dining room entirely, the potential for altercation with this particular cat did give several of its patrons pause. Leopold was, according to general experience, about as pompous as they came, and not at all afraid to speak his mind at any opportunity he was given, but for Bustopher Jones to be speaking up - docile and non-confrontational as he was- that was far more interesting. Even the scraggly looking tom cowering against the wall had turned to stare in the direction the voice had come from.

Bustopher delicately dabbed at the corners of his muzzle with his handkerchief, unphased by the retort or the dozen eyes that had turned to face him. The command he had over the room was palpable, even as he was just avoiding speaking with his mouth full.

"I meant exactly what was implied," he said at last, folding the little square of linen once diagonally, then again the other way. "Pity the tom who cannot take his own insult back again. There is little room for 'a cat like you’ in here - uncouth, undignified, improper and impolite, good heavens."

Leopold scowled. “You’ve lost your mind, Jones - are we just letting anycat in here, now? He's a little thief.” As if punctuating his point, he released the other tom unceremoniously to the ground, brushing off his forepaws as if they offended him.

“Did you ask why he was in here?” Bustopher prompted, tilting his head.

“Why on Earth would I ask this…thing why he’s in here?” Leopold grumbled, tail stiff and twitching. The tom on the ground looked haggard, as though he wholly regretted stepping foot anywhere near the lot of them.

Bustopher clucked. "So you just assumed, then ?"

If he were a man, Bustopher thought briefly, Leopold's face likely would have flushed with indignancy. "What else could he possibly be in here for?"

"I can think of several good reasons," Bustopher said, earnesty dripping from every word. "But how would you know? You did not ask."

The sputtering that followed was met with boredom; truly, Bustopher had had enough of the exchange - he did grow tired of the ring around. Though the tom would never lift a paw towards anyone unless the situation were dire, he did wish he were quite so bold as his dearest Jennyanydots to drag the offender out on his ear himself.

"This is a gentletom's club," Bustopher concluded, licking his maw. "I do, therefore, expect you to act like one.”

Leopold left in a huff of white fur, thoroughly shamed and pulling his attitude right along with him; some nerve and good riddance.

"You can all stop staring at me, now," Bustopher called pleasantly, causing several of the patrons to immediately avert their eyes, some with smiles twitching just below their whiskers.

Bustopher turned his full attention to the cat in question, still on the floor and staring up a him, attempting to brush off his coat in the face of the newest tom's searching eye. “Now then, stand up, good fellow," he chirped, tucking his kerchief under the band of his collar, as though nothing at all had happened. "Do not make me bend down - I’m afraid I won’t get back up again.”

Send me a sentence and I’ll fill at least five more in after it for a little mini-fic.

#Bustopher Jones #my fanfic #fanfiction #jellicles ask because jellicles dare #per-the-jellicle-magician #bustopher is nice to those who have done no harm and no wrong and i refuse to believe otherwise #his friends are strays you think he treats them like garbage? no #i also think while he's a general non-confrontational cat and a little of a scaredy one too #confrontation of this kind doesn't bother him - it's a glove fight #like step down little man with your big boots #taking this prompt in the slightly opposite direction of what you might expect - sometimes it's the higher ones you need to take down a peg #anyway i love bustopher

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cowboyhorsegirl · 6 months

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sorry not to make everything up to and including supernatural about stevetony but the way dean goes undercover as agent stark at one point and cas uses steve as a fake name...... i mean,,,,,,

#i am also beginning to realize that ppl who have complicated relationships with religion need to take extra precautions when handling spn #like a welding mask or maybe some big heatproof gloves #an apron #you know #evwatches #spn #my employer's opinions #cinematique parallels #stevetony

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samethstarr · 9 months

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Me pitching Sonic Prime: " -and then all of his friends are split into three, each with a unique design to market" SEGA: "Ah yes, good good." Me: "And then after one season he gets the prism put back together... but then he breaks it again, which splits each of his friends' 3 forms into 3 more forms. Each with a unique design to market" SEGA: "Ah.. yeah we can do this." Me: "And then after THAT season he gets the prism put back together, but the he breaks it again, which-"

SEGA: "Stop."

#Why I don't pitch things #That would be over 100 designs #If you count Big Amy Knuckles and Rouge plus all the new shoe glove combos for Sonic for each world #Shadow is the ultimate life form simply because he doesn't need a new design every 5 minutes

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dudefrommywesterns · 2 years

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i love this cute boy and his cute but strange outfit

#favorite things:#the buttons on the sides that flatten the jacket rather than close it #the big pockets!!#he keeps his book in one and inside the book is his map :D #the grey scarf that isn't flush to his neck so you can see into it #(under the scarf is a high necked but semi low cut patterned shirt. i love this so much #hhhhh #)#the fingerless gloves!!#they make him look so cozy and i love seeing just the tips of his fingers #things of interest:#the red white and blue vest #the fact that his scarf and gloves are grey #those brownish stripped pants that don't match anything #his SHOES #poor boy needs new shoes #they look a bit worn #but so does the jacket #also i love that his hair is left completely alone #it moves beautifully in the wind #it gets very messy as he runs around #it's so FLOOFY in the wigmaker part #i want to pet him #also #if everything he owns is in the small bag #he doesn't own much #maybe it's because he spends so much time at sea #♡ it's embarrassing for a sailor to lose his bearings — ⌜ anthony hope ⌟#typewriter dings

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bookwyrminspiration · 1 year

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DIRA!! (I know im late bUt-) I LOVE UR HAIR IT LOOKS SO SICKK!? What did u use to dye it its so brightt (also hii hru dude we havent talked in a minute <3)

TATER!!! Hii!!! I haven't seen you in foreverrrr. Well. I've seen you on my dash (dnd nerd, I say, living with and being a dnd nerd), we just haven't really talked in a while!

And thank you!! Messing with my hair is so so fun, love having bright silly colors--and matching my makeup to it! I don't do full face, just eyeliner mostly, but I'll coordinate it with my hair color(s) and it's just! so fun! my goal is the have the sickest hair of everyone present in all given situations (so far achieving that pretty successfully)

also!! Kinda a wacky dyeing situation! The pinkish side I actually dyed red, then bleached to make it the color it is (I didn't have a pink), and I dyed it red with the color Wrath from Arctic Fox diluted with conditioner. For the green, it was a mishmash of various greens since I was trying to use up two containers that were low. The three greens I used (I didn't mix them together, just put it all patchy all over) were: Phantom Green and Iris Green from Arctic Fox, and Electric Lizard (I think?) from Manic Panic! Mostly iris green and electric lizard though

But I get almost all my dyes from Arctic Fox, they've got nice, bright colors that last fairly well :)

(oh and this was all done over freshly bleached hair! I use wella powder bleach mixed with 30 volume Salon Care developer--the exact ratio you mix depends on the strength you need/want and where you're applying)

#quil's queries #a-lonely-tatertot #all caps #i'm actually almost out of developer #I think i'll need to buy more before next time I dye my hair #but like. that bottle has served me for well over a year #you can also buy like. bleach kits (i do not recommend box bleach!) since the bleach stuff I mentioned #is the kind you buy in bulk #it's a whole tub of powder bleach #and like. 32 oz of developer? big bottle #though there are smaller bottles #but yeah! that's the stuff I use to do my hair!#or at least the directly hair stuff #also use gloves and a mixing bowl and all that #but yeah!#i'm giving. more information that you probably wanted or needed but!

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lavellander · 2 years

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anyway I’m so in love w the marriage lore I crafted for leli and my surana. they got married in a random alley in denerim almost immediately after defeating the archdemon bc they were like. well life sure is fuckin short and who knows how long we’ll have together!! alistair “officiated” and zev was their witness and they used cheap bullshit rings and it was probably not legally sound but leli was like no it’s okay we made our vows in the sight of the maker or whatever

#anders was very upset he wasn’t invited #sarenan’s like buddy I wasn’t even invited. no one was invited it just happened. we were all a little drunk #also both of them wear their rings on necklaces instead of on their fingers since they usually have gloves on 🥲#AND it’s all this drama when leli is like hey the divine can get married now. I’m already married btw #and they’re like not by chantry law you aren’t. she’s like I literally am the chantry law.#but regardless they win bc they need a precedent to refer to in the future or whatever #so they get a big gaudy wedding at the grand cathedral and EVERYONE hates it. except cass. and secretly josie #ok sorry for the novel xoxo bye #sarenan x leliana

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gachaparadise · 3 months

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youtube

so excited by this!!

#this is like the sr equivalent of the fatui funeral trailer. like bitching cool look at villains with lotsa monologueing #the stellaron hunters have always been too ''clearly doing the right thing'' to be our fatui but these guys seem like they suck <3<3<3 #the big hat lady (Constance) is so. uh. hahah. whew #hoyo finally made a woman i'm like instantly attracted to i genuinely thought they couldn't do it #shes beautiful. shes evil. shes got a devil tail. she isn't dressed like a party city sexy catgirl or whatever. shes tasteful!! very hot #(and shes got those ff dragon girl horns god. preinstalled handles)#everyone else is genuinely cool as well. duke inferno is obvious just the coolest.#the punk rock girlie with the chains is pretty just not my type in particular #the puppet girl!! like. shes tempting me i just love the huge ghost driving a little puppet thing its awesome #Akash(the guy)... i will need to see more of.#like. if they'd released him earlier i might've been more excited but.#his clothes look a lot like atventurine and gallaghers. i though he WAS gallagher when i first watched it #(i didn't spell ANY of those names right but i don't feel like fixing it)#and like. his bit. his gimmick if you will is... he's got a cello? he hasn't really shown his charms point yet #like everyone else is a demon a punkrock lady in chains a giant fucking ghost driving a cute little puppet a guy on fire #and he's a guy in shades. with a cello. he's not quite serving at everyone else's level yet.#i willl say his outfit has a lot of bat themeing. like on the gloves and the cape parts look like bat wings. so maybe he'll be a vampire!#i can't resist a guy covered in blood so. if he feels like taking advantage of that weakness of mine i wouldn't complain.#game: honkai sr #post: misc

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exopelagic · 5 months

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I have the curse of so much to say all the time I should rlly get a diary

#anyway. I’m just trying to get to know the guy but there’s That sitting there bc he’s cute #it makes me feel so weird abt everything bc it doesn’t feel like I should be Feeling That idk how much other people have this #added weirdness coming with being gay #anyway I’m so lucky that the one person who knows me well enough to be able to See Things is completely oblivious bc goddamn #I run the full length of the rink to catch up with Big Luke after he leaves bc there was a glove left on the bench where we were #and I thought it might’ve been his (it wasn’t)#i didn’t realise that when I feel things I feel them Big #partly bc I spent a long time not letting myself but I think this whole thing comes with the territory of repression #but yeah if you hadn’t guessed the Guys thing is one of the things The Wanting is shifting towards #I know that I absolutely cannot until may bc I don’t have time. it would almost definitely mess with me too much even if it’s good #once again feeling dumb for Having Feelings Abt Things but I think that too is normal #okay. I don’t have much time to do essay now but I can look through it and set it on the process of maturing in my head #bc I never get anything substantial done on the first day of working on smth anyway. it needs time to arrange itself in my head #and then I can cook with whatever I’ve got bc I think I have enough to make a decent curry even if I’m missing some vegetables I’d like #and tomorrow I can set my alarm properly and have a quiet day where I try to get my essay done and have a night to myself #I should email some supervisors but I’ll do that tomorrow they won’t read the emails until Monday anyway #okay?#oh yeah I also have the sun lamp now I’ll turn that on that will really help #okay I’m gonna go do that. <33 #luke.txt

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bi-writes · 12 days

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thinking about being the new addition to tf141. you are an asset given to laswell by the CIA, a timid little thing but your aim is always on target, and you are quiet, tech savvy, and you do as you're told. (18+, dark)

just how lieutenant riley prefers. he dwarfs you. the first time you meet, your eyes nearly come out of your head from how wide they go. he's so large, and you feel so tiny compared to him, and even though he does nothing but a disinterested once over, it is obvious to the rest of the team that you might just be his favorite.

it's most obvious in the subtle touches. when you're getting ready to jump, ghost comes up from behind and tugs on your parachute, nearly topping you over making sure it's secure. when you're getting ready in the back of the humvee, he reaches over and buckles your thigh holster for you when he notices the strap is coming loose. you nearly choke when you feel his big hand between your thighs, and you stare up at him with wide eyes when his pinkie moves up the seam of your zipper when he tugs his hand away.

and then the way he's on your six is unlike anything else. like glue, chest pressed to your back, his gloved hand squeezing your waist as he moves you every which way he pleases because you're so small to him, so easy, and he growls under his breath when he touches the curve of your hips or the fat of your ass.

maybe you might enjoy it if he wasn't so fucking awkward about it. if he didn't stare at you without blinking. if he didn't adjust his cock in his jeans right in front of you. if he didn't grip you by the back of your head, tugging you any way he wanted as if scolding a kitten using the scruff of their neck.

you think the team would notice by now--that they would step in, tell ghost to back off, but they turn a blind eye. they tolerate this behavior, and you don't know if it's because ghost is so good at his job, they don't want to, or that they are so afraid of him, they refuse to say anything.

or maybe they approve. maybe it keeps ghost at bay. maybe it keeps a lion in his den. a spider in its nest. maybe indulging ghost in his fucked form of flirting and socialization is what keeps the foundations of this team right where it needs to be--and you realize, slowly, that maybe that is why you're here.

because ghost likes them soft, and they need to put a muzzle on their dog.

so when you feel him in the dark, slipping a gloved hand under the blanket that keeps you warm at night, he is pleasantly surprised to find you awake. and even more surprised to feel your hand slipping the soft lace of your panties right into his fucking pocket.

"they teach y'that 'n basic training? how ta give y'r knickers to y'r lieutenant, eh?"

"no," you whisper, and when you meet his eyes in the dark, he looks so hungry. he's untamed, no training, he's used to getting what he wants with no resistance. you turn over in bed, and you don't get to see the way he sucks on his teeth when you let your knees fall, revealing the pretty place between your thighs, soft and puffy and wet, just waiting for a good mutt to eat her up. "but i learned other things."

"tha' right?"

"yeah," you say softly, and you turn over onto your stomach, pushing back onto your knees right in front of him. he bends, leaning over until he's pushing his masked face right into the seam of your cunt, and you grip the sheets tight when he inhales deeply, a rumble following as both of his hands grip either side of your ass and spread you open for him. you're drooling, wetting the nylon fabric, and you gasp when you feel the wet, warm muscle of his tongue suck on your folds through the mask. it's lewd, and you're wetting the material so much it sticks to the strong lines of his face, but he continues, tilting his head to the side as he laps at the pretty slick that dampens your thighs.

"what'd y'learn then, swee'eart?"

not how to fuck your lieutenant. but...you did learn to keep them happy.

"h-how to be a good girl."

and you think you feel him smile.

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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

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