dudeinchains

[dudeinchains]

I don't like some of you.

[dudeinchains]

knights: always match your gorget to your strap. king arthur told me this

[dudeinchains]

Silly boy, condoms are for girls!

[dudeinchains]

Angry Inch is kind of about lying about why you don't have a "real" cock if you think about it.

[dudeinchains]

Part of being a man is knowing how to act.

Being the "sleazy stoner punk" type is great and all, but there's still limitations. You want to be liked after all, don't you?

Your brothers don't much appreciate it when you make a snide remark about their favorite band, even if it's basic. They also may not like that you claim to know more about the scene than them.

Shit like that needs correction, boy. Don't be surprised when you're tied down to someone's bed at the house show, you need to be taught a lesson after all.

When you're done you'll be a better man for it. :-)

[dudeinchains]

Little brother who doms his big bro, swooning over how big and strong he is and bouncing on his cock while big bro is moaning, calling him Daddy.

[dudeinchains]

ITS ME!

drew my fiance

[dudeinchains]

imagine a dad with a tboy son who has always helped him feel better when he's had periods by letting him rest under a heat pad and freshly dryer-fluffed blankets, brewing hot tea and cocoa for him, bringing him midol and tylenol when he needs it, and taking the time to make him feel affirmed even when the menstruation dysphoria kicks in...

and when he gets older, his sex-positive dad starts encouraging him to consider masturbating, whether he's on his period or not, telling him, "you know, it improves your pelvic health, orgasms are very good for your heart health, it can help you fall asleep, it can provide stress relief," and going on and on about the objective health benefits and how it can put his son in touch with his developing teen body... and, for a while, his son always reacts with embarrassment, saying, "ew! augh, dad, no! that's so gross! yuck, no way!" and his dad drops the topic, for the most part, only bringing it up again on occasion, when it's germane to conversations about sexual health...

and, one day, while picking up a few boxes of tampons at the local walmart, dad takes his son on a little detour through the pharmacy aisles and shows him a selection of vibrating dildos... and his son goes red in the face and won't stop looking around, up and down the aisle, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and holding it to keep his face hidden from other shoppers while his dad keeps telling him, in such a matter-of-fact tone, "actually, penetrative masturbation with toys like these is excellent for soothing menstrual cramps," all while his son keeps whispering for his dad to put each toy back as he grabs them off the display hooks to look at the product details on the back sides of the packaging... and, despite his son's protesting and embarrassment, dad puts a small bullet vibrator and a modest six-inch vibrating dildo toy into the shopping basket before walking to the express checkout lane, telling his son he's getting them "just in case you ever want to use them..."

and then dad starts letting himself out of the house a little more often, hoping to give his son at least a couple hours of alone time every once in a while so that he can give it an earnest try, especially since having stored the vibrators in the bathroom, where they're just as innocuous and easy-to-find as the hairbrushes or the toothpaste... and his son does give it a try, sometimes using the bullet vibrator on himself before taking a shower, only to frantically clean and dry it before putting it back, perfectly in its place... until, one day, he takes it to his bedroom and uses it to bring himself to his first real orgasm, which quickly puts him to sleep...

and then his dad comes home that afternoon, while his son is still sleeping through his post-orgasm nap... and he goes to the bathroom, curiously checking the drawer to find the little vibrator missing, immediately pleased to know that his son is finally experimenting... and he doesn't do anything or say anything, not wanting to scare his son into retreating and repressing his needs and desires...

and then one day, the forgetful sometimes-presence of the little vibrator in the drawer under the bathroom counter after son's masturbation sessions morphs into a clearly conscious choice to keep it in his room, in the drawer of his bedside nightstand... and dad starts thinking that maybe his son isn't interested in the six inch vibrating dildo, putting it aside somewhere safe to keep it from gathering any dust in the drawer...

and then, during a period, sometime later on, as the months pass, dad looks up from working from home at his laptop while sitting on the couch and notices his son is standing at the doorway of the den with a nervous look on his flushed-red face... and dad asks his son, "kiddo, what's the matter? are you feeling sick?" to which his son replies, asking, "dad, do you know where the, uh, the... the longer vibrator is?" reluctantly and quietly... and dad sets his work aside, telling him, "of course," and then, speculatively, "are you having some bad period cramps?" with his son nodding slowly in response... so dad fetches the vibrating dildo for him and offers to show him how to use it, but his son is far too embarrassed, already, and shuts his bedroom door before his daddy can ask again...

and then his son finally starts hormone replacement therapy, spreading t-gel on his arms once a week... (dad had offered to help him with shots, since needles had always intimidated him, but he wants to do it himself)... and, as son's changes begin to develop, dad notices he spends a lot more time to himself in his room... and that's when dad starts checking in on his son, knocking on his closed bedroom door a few times before opening it, always accidentally walking in on him in the middle of masturbating, always backing out and closing the door when his son yells, "augh, dad! don't come in here! leave me alone! i just want to be by myself right now!" while the telltale hum of a muffled vibrator is going off against his pussy from under the covers...

and then, one day, dad is working at the kitchen table when his son comes in and sits down with a snack, slowly eating it like he's simply killing time while he watches his dad dutifully type away on the keyboard of his laptop and read over a packet of papers... and, when his dad realizes his son has lingered there long after he's finished snacking, he looks up from his work and asks, "what's up, kiddo?" only for his son to go red in the face and clear his throat a little, trying to act natural... and then his son says, "the... uh... big vibrator stopped working," furiously blushing, at this point... and then his dad says, "oh no... sorry to hear that, bud... maybe i can pick one up the next time i go out, does that sound like a plan?" but, despite the prompt and casual response, his son still looks uncomfortable... and then his son asks, "could... you... help me a little... sooner than that?" to which his dad says, "well, sure, kiddo, but it might have to wait until i'm finished with work for today, is that alright?"

but his son still looks a little uneasy, shifting in the dining room chair, pressing his legs together under the table, then asking, "okay, dad, but... i was... kind of thinking... that maybe you could, uh, show me... something a little more... advanced? or, you know... hands-on?" while looking away from his dad, his eyes darting back and forth between making eye-contact... and his dad seems to think about it, catching his meaning... or, rather, assuming it... replying, to confirm, "you mean... you want to try intercourse?" and, after a long silence, his son, still clearly more embarrassed than he's ever been in his life, slowly nods to answer his dad, looking down at the table and occasionally glancing back up...

and dad takes the time to consider it, despite already knowing his answer... which surprises his son, though not all that much, when he says, "sure, but i'll need you to give me five minutes to wrap up before taking a break... think you can go to your room and get ready for me like you usually get ready on yourself?" and he says it as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be saying, agreeing to a proposition with his trans teen son, but his son hastily nods and gets up from the table, walking to his room, fast, and leaving the door open ajar as he pushes the door closed behind him...

and then dad, true to his word, takes a few minutes to finish his work before shutting the lid of his laptop and getting up to head toward his son's bedroom, slowly pushing the door back open as he enters the threshold, looking down at his son lying down over the covers, his shorts and boxers kicked off and onto the floor, socks still covering his feet, still wearing a t-shirt and hoodie over his torso, his legs pressed together and bent to hide himself, anxiously waiting for his dad... and his dad smiles warmly at him, undoing the fastening on his chinos as he starts to undress, sitting down on the bed next to his son's hot, half-naked body...

and he slowly reaches up to part his son's knees from the side, telling him to "just relax, honey," running his hand up and down the inside of his son's thighs to coax them apart, dipping down into the valley of his legs to gently stroke his son's growing t-dick amidst the lush bush he's grown atop his mons pubis... and dad tells him how good he looks, remarking "oh, look how much hair you've grown down here... and your cock is already getting kind of big."

and dad keeps an eye on his son, who has one hand at his forehead, gripping at his hair, while the other is resting against one side of his chest, groping at himself through the thick fabric of his hoodie... and dad tells him, "feeling okay, kiddo? want to take that sweatshirt off? you're looking a little over-heated," and helps his son sit up in bed to disrobe, the sweatshirt being discarded off the side of the bed, son not even waiting before casting his t-shirt aside, too, totally nude aside from his socks... but dad doesn't need those out of the way, so they can stay on... and, soon, dad returns to rubbing the outside of his son's front hole, venturing to dip a finger inside, which makes his son finally moan nice and long... and dad asks, "does that feel good, bud?" to which his son can hardly respond in words, slowly nodding his head while his eyes drift shut, his breathing growing heavy...

and dad keeps going, gently fingering his son, fingers now slowly pushing in and out, getting him used to the intrusion and the rhythm... after all, even if he had used a dildo many times before, by now, it wasn't as though his hot teen cunt wasn't still young and tight, still getting used to penetration...

and, as dad continues stimulating him, he comments on how wet he is... how engorged his t-dick is... saying, "you've gotten so wet for me, huh? and your cock is even getting hard," to which his son can only moan and whine things like "mm... dad..." and "oh... fuck... dad," between panting breaths... and dad keeps going, his own dick stiffening and tenting in his boxer briefs... until his son's hands find their way to dad's forearm, squeezing it a little... and dad asks, "want to stop, baby?" and his son shakes his head against, looking up at his dad to say, "no... keep going... i... i need you."

and dad, wanting more, asks, "need me how, bud?" and his son bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth before answering, "i... need you inside me..." and his dad's brows raise, dad looking surprised but pleased... and dad asks, to be certain, "you want my cock inside you, kiddo?" and his son nods his head eagerly, his inhibitions lost now as dad gets up from the bed and sheds his underwear, getting back onto the mattress and positioning himself between his son's legs which, right now, are spread open, almost impatiently, as he stares down at his dad's crotch, at the long dick that bounces gently over his thick, swollen balls... and his jaw falls a little, as if the head had hypnotized him...

and his dad chuckles a little, watching his son's lust-addled expression as he grabs hold of his own cock and strokes it, the meatus leaking precum which dribbles down over his dad's knuckles on each downstroke, down onto the cover of his duvet... and then dad lightly pets the insides of his son's thighs again, lowering himself until the head of his cock meets the foreskin-covered head of his son's cock, rubbing himself up and down his slit...

and dad looks at his son's face as his son stares back at him, mouth still hanging open, as he aligns himself with his son's front hole and starts opening him up with his uncovered shaft... and dad's dick feels like it's stuffing him tight... centimeter by centimeter, filling him up full...

and son's hands go to his chest, kneading and squeezing and tugging on himself, breathing hitching as dad bottoms out inside of his cunt... and then dad begins pulling his cock out... slowly... letting his son feel himself empty before easily slipping back in, taking his son's moans as encouragement as he sheaths himself again, fully inside his son's hot cock sleeve of a channel... wet and hot and clenching...

and dad goes slow, at first, like when he's given his son back scratches or shoulder rubs before... and dad cups his son's hip with one hand as he leans forward on the other hand, which is flat against the covers of his boy's bed, the motion of his hips picking up speed the longer he goes, in and out, fucking him... dad is fucking him... and his son moans, loudly, "ohh, fuck, dad!"

and dad can feel his boy's cunt squeezing him, drawing him in, wanting to lock him there each time he thrusts inside, saying, "good job, baby boy... you like taking daddy's cock inside you? okay, kiddo... just relax... just enjoy..." as he thrusts...

and when his bare cock feels his son chasing his own orgasm, he picks up the pace, driving himself harder and faster into his boy's cunt, listening as his moans devolve quickly into unintelligible vocalizations...

and then, suddenly, his son tightens around his cock, the walls of his soaking wet channel spasming around him... and dad can't hold back...

and dad announces, "good boy, you want my cum? baby, do you want my cum inside you, too?" to which his son frantically nods, and dad can feel him grip his cock even harder at that...

always quick to please, he thrusts deep and fast as his son is letting himself be lost in the throes of a hard orgasm, the moans and exclamations tumbling out of his mouth each time he almost ruts against his baby boy's cervix, going, "god! fuck, dad, fuck me! oh god, fuck me! fuck me! fuck me! aah, dad!"

and his dad, determined, lets his hips snap against his son's groin with each thrust inside of him, letting his own orgasm erupt with a grunt, his semen shooting against his son's hot insides, his thrusts fast and pistoning out of time before he simply stops, dad's legs relaxing in the furrow of his son's...

and his son feels the innermost part of himself bathed in his dad's cum... and he shudders, his body trembling already in post-coital bliss...

"oh, dad," he moans, "can we... can we do that again?"

archived on ao3

[dudeinchains]

pampered, haughty trans prince who goes camping and encounters a werewolf who won't listen to him and just sees a cute little tight hole to shove its knot into tbh

[dudeinchains]

We now know that the amount of fingers V can take in his ass is indeed Three! Fantastic.

[dudeinchains]

I might have just blown out my voicebox a little.

[dudeinchains]

Eating out a plushies boypussy is a god given right no politician can take away from me

[dudeinchains]

No one say anything about this post, it's my way of coping with the stress of the election.

Tommy down the hall looks even better than last week. His beard is a little fuller and his arms are... firmer. He somehow always manages to catch the girl staring at him shyly when they pass in the halls or around the neighborhood. The way her eyes linger over his body holding something than sexual desire. Something much deeper. She always looked away quickly when she was caught so she didn't see the way Tommy's eyes noticed her body and her own discomfort with it.

So, when passing in the stairway, Tommy mentions that he's got this sick new movie that she's just gotta see. "I think it'll really speak to ya." He offers like she needed to be convinced. She nodded and immediately caught herself being too eager. The embarrassment still showed on her face when she was walking into his apartment later that night.

Tommy puts on Fight Club. She's never seen it before but she's literally sitting on the edge of her seat by the end. Tommy studies her response and at the end he mentions something about how he loved this movie before he came out. Had she ever thought about coming down to his gym sometime? He remembered her mentioning something about wanting to try bulking but was worried about what her shitty ex-boyfriend might say about it if she did. He was so glad when that frothing Trump humper was out of her life. She was ready now to do much more important things.

"I'll take you tomorrow. The guys at the gym are gonna love you." Tommy mutters, slipping a joint between her lips. Wait, hadn't he lit her up just a couple minutes ago? Her head is swimming and Tommy keeps whispering about how handsome she'll be once the hormones kick in. He had old binders she could borrow.

He doesn't cut her hair until after giving her the shot, though, because he wanted something to hold onto while he did it. At some point, her pants had disappeared and Tommy was pressed up on her bare skin when he pricked her with the needle and injected her very first dose of T. "And you've gotta think of a name that suits you better than the one you have now. Honestly, I don't know how you've handled being called that for so long." The haircut felt like shedding off layers of personality other people gave her over the years. Before she knew it, everything she thought about herself laid on the floor, trimmed to pieces by those loud, ugly clippers and Tommy's gentle hand.

The night ends in Tommy's bed and he's teaching his sweet little boyfriend how to take it up the ass like a real man. "Come on, dude, you don't really want me to fuck you like a girl, do you? It's cool, don't worry, I promise you'll cum for me anyway."

[dudeinchains]

And his little brother Calvin. Also known as Sidestitch.

SPENCER??! wowzers...

me when im in a pervert contest and this is my opponent

this is one of the first ocs ive made with my own body type, instead of being much bigger/smaller than i am :-) be nice

[dudeinchains]

And his little brother Calvin. Also known as Sidestitch.

SPENCER??! wowzers...

me when im in a pervert contest and this is my opponent

this is one of the first ocs ive made with my own body type, instead of being much bigger/smaller than i am :-) be nice

[dudeinchains]

Collect shitty knives and used lighters. Carry one of each in your pocket, they’ll come in handy. Straight up who’s gonna stop you now? Pick up a balisong and learn some tricks, it’ll be so sick when you can show them to someone you really like later. Same with zippos, play around and see if you can flick it in a unique way, and make it muscle memory. Throw your keys and some useful shit on a carabiner and put it on your belt. Wallet chains too, you can’t deny how sick they are. Fuck, hop on a skateboard, the impact of the ground becomes cathartic when you remember what it’s all for. Listen to lots of music and develop lots of opinions on it, before you know it you’ll have a back catalogue of shit to talk to people about, and then you’ll suddenly be someone who has sick recommendations. You can also just be a bit of a hooligan, climb shit, jump on it, have so much visible, mischievous fun that it’s contagious. Wear really shitty smudgy makeup and OWN it, it’s so hot. Shoulder check your pals and smile at them cheekily, make special handshakes with them, doesn’t matter if you have “your boys”, play with whoever is near, don’t wait til it’s perfect and the time is right

You can just start doing stuff whenever you want

[dudeinchains]

cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)

Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)

He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.

It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.

Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.

...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.

If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.

He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.

"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."

Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.

Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.

He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.