#a man's eyes with his ballsack because he could only see with his dick.

[starry-bi-sky]

*sighs*

*adds Danny!Martha to my Well, that's an obsession now wall*

*thinks a little*

*sighs²*

*also adds Danny!Martha to my That's a red flag, but I'm colorblind wall*

she's a ten but she's emotionally unavailable and perhaps. mildly deranged. just a little unhinged.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Thin Walls

Pairing :: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+ Content, NSFW/Smut, Masturbation(M&F), Oral(M Reciving)

Word Count :: 2,707

Summary :: The walls in your apartment are thinner than you thought

A/N ::

The first time Bucky heard your light pants and stifled moans through the thin walls of your shared apartment complex, he couldn’t believe his ears. Whenever he saw you, you acted charming and innocent. You were always kind to him when you saw each other in the hallway or on the rare occasions you saw each other outside of your apartments. You had a sweet smile, and a soft voice when you spoke to him, almost shy.

When he heard the soft pants through the wall, he couldn’t help but press his ear against the wall, unsure of what was going on. He thought you were having a nightmare until he heard how you quietly moaned and your breathing picked up. 

Bucky knew listening to you was wrong, but then images of you touching yourself began flashing in his mind. He pictured you laying back on your bed in nothing, your legs spread as your hand-worked effortlessly to please yourself. You had two fingers disappearing in your wet cunt repeatedly as you fingered yourself, curling them to press against a sensitive spot. With the hand that wasn’t in you, you were massaging your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between your fingers.

“Ngh! Ah!” Your panting grew before finally slowing down.

‘Did she make herself cum?’ Bucky wondered, his dick twitching at the thought.

-

About a week later, Bucky heard the same lewd noises through the wall. Again, he couldn’t help himself and listened to you.

This time, the images that ran through his head were far more invasive. His dick grew hard as he imagined you rubbing your clit slowly, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“Bucky, please.”

He pulled his ear away but didn’t leave. He leaned his head back against the wall, hand wandered down to his sweats, pulling out his hardening shaft. Slowly, his hand ran up and down his length, your sweet muffled voice coming through the wall and encouraging him to keep going.

From the sounds of you desperately trying not to moan aloud as you masturbated, he could tell you were far needier than last time. ‘Still trying to act innocent?’ 

“Ah!” From your breathing picking up, Bucky was sure you had just made yourself cum. 

His grip around his cock tightened, wondering how your wet cunt would tighten around him when you came.

Your breathing picked up again and you hummed in delight.

“Fuck, you’re a desperate girl aren’t you? Trying to cum twice,” He muttered to himself.

His breathing hitched and cock twitched, swearing that he heard the soft sucking sound of wet messy pussy as you continued to pump quickly.

Once precum started to trickle out, Bucky used his thumb to smear it across the head before stroking back down to his tightening ballsack. His hard dick was growing swollen, eager to cum all due to you. No longer able to contain your pleasure, he finally heard your moans and he could tell you were going to cum again soon.

He started thrusting his hips with each downward stroke, an image of you kneeling before him popping in his mind. Your mouth was open, moans escaping you as you rubbed circles into your clit waiting for him to release on you. 

With the moisture at the tip increasing, he used it to lubricate the rest of his swelling cock so his hand could glide up and down with ease. With his free hand, he lifted his shirt up and bit the fabric in his mouth to leave his abdomen exposed.

“Mmm! Ah!” Bucky heard you take in a deep breath, freezing almost as you came again.

He was now pumping his cock rapidly, hips thrusting as hard as if he was fucking. Finally, his muscles tensed up and his body stiffened, his loud groan only slightly muffled.

His balls contracted and cock twitched with each hot spurt of cum that shot out. Thick cum flew out of his tip, some of it landing on his stomach. Still, he continued to pump, muscles tensing up each time another hot load came out. He continued to pump until thick wet strands covered his hand and cock.

-

About once a week, Bucky heard the soft noises you made while masturbating. If you were having a bad day, he’d hear you more than once a week. If you were especially needy, you’d take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour rather than the usual five to ten minutes just to relieve yourself.

He grew hard each time he heard you playing with yourself, but he only found himself jerking off on the nights you were needy. When he could hear you playing with your wet cunt after you had already cum.

When Bucky saw you outside of your apartment, he managed to act normal. He still saw you as sweet, even if he knew how dirty you were. He had somehow managed to grow closer to you, starting and engaging in conversations with you when you two saw each other.

“So long story short, that’s why I don’t go near large bodies of water,” You told Bucky as you each approached your apartment complex.

You two had run into each other at the local grocery store, each doing some evening grocery shopping, and were each carrying a good number of bags.

Bucky raised a brow, glancing at you. “Don’t you think that’s a bit… much?”

“Nope.”

Bucky pressed the elevator button, a light appearing and signaling the metal box it was on its way down.

As you two waited, another one of the building’s residents walked up with a large group of friends. They were talking loudly, silencing you and Bucky as you all waited.

Ding. The elevator doors opened, and much to Bucky’s dismay, you all entered creating a cramped space. You and Bucky had been pushed to the back corner since you entered first. Bucky’s back was against the wall, and yours was inches away from his chest.

“What floor?” One of the friends asked after hitting the fifth-floor button for their group.

“Sixth,” Bucky replied.

The button was hit and soon after the doors closed. The ride was silent until some of the friends started to mess around by pushing one another against themselves and the walls.

Accidentally, one of the friends bumped into you, pushing you against Bucky.

They apologized halfheartedly before continuing.

Out of fear of being shoved again, you stayed firm against Bucky, only moving against him when one of the strangers got too close while messing around.

Feeling you wiggle against him, Bucky’s jaw clenched and his grip on his grocery bags tightened, his metal arm almost breaking a jar he had inside. He managed to block out the noise from the rowdy group, his mind playing the sweet noises you made instead.

“Fuck,” He muttered quietly.

You managed to hear him and believing he was upset you were against him, you turned your head up to look at him. “S-sorry,” You said with a slightly flushed face.

Bucky’s eyes widened, cock twitching when he heard your meek voice. Without a word, he turned his head, looking up at the elevator lights instead.

Your moaning continued to fill his head, followed by the images of you he had created. Unable to control himself with your ass rubbing against him, his shaft slowly started to stiffen, creating a tightness in his jeans. Without thinking, he pressed his hips against you, the tightness growing.

Since Bucky was looking away, he couldn’t see your face. You were looking down, biting your lip as you continued to move against him. You felt embarrassed at the fact you were growing wet right now. ‘God, if only these jerks weren’t in here this wouldn’t be happening!’ You cried in your head.

Then, you felt a stiff member press against you. You squeezed your eyes shut, gulping. ‘There was no way he was getting turned on now, right? This is just happening because of the situation we’re in. Yeah, that has to be it. He can’t help it.’

Finally, the elevator doors dinged before opening and the group of friends walked out. Immediately, you walked away from Bucky, straight to the door and waiting for your floor. Bucky let out a deep breath, relaxing once you stepped away.

Neither of you said a word, each walking out in silence when the elevator got to your floor.

“Have a nice night Bucky,” You quietly told him before escaping into your apartment.

“You too…” Bucky mumbled before entering his own.

An hour later, Bucky heard you quietly moaning through the walls. Instantly, his dick grew hard, remembering the feeling of you pressed against him. He pulled his length out, starting to stroke himself to your sweet voice.

“Mm, Bucky!” You moaned.

The man stopped, heart freezing when he heard you. He had never heard you moaned anyone’s name before. This was the first time ever, and it was his name.

You were getting off to him. You were touching yourself, imagining it was him.

“Fuck.”

Bucky shoved his still hard shaft in his pants, leaving the room. All reasoning left him as he walked out of his apartment and went to go knock on your front door.

It took a few moments before the door unlocked and the doorknob turned, revealing you wearing a baggy black shirt and short blue pajama shorts. Your face was slightly flushed, chest rising.

���She was getting close.’

“Hi Bucky, what’s-”

Before you could finish, Bucky stepped in pressing his lips firmly against yours. Your eyes widened with shock, frozen in your spot. He pulled away, shutting and locking your front door.

He leaned down to kiss you again, but you pressed your hand against his chest, stopping him.

“B-Bucky wait! You can’t just come into my home and start kissing me suddenly!” You tried to reason.

“Why? You don’t want it?”

“Wh-what? No- I mean- I-I do, but,” You were stumbling over your words, mind thrown into chaos as to what was going on.

Then you glanced down at his sweats, clearly seeing the large erection he had. You stopped talking, legs squeezing tight.

Bucky grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know, doll, these walls are pretty thin. Doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination.”

Your face started burning up at the realization from his words. “Y-you mean… You can hear m-me each time I…?”

He leaned down to your face, pressing a kiss against your cheek. He moved his face further to your ear whispering, “Yes.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body close to his so you could feel his hard clothed dick press against you. “And each time I listen to you, I get hard imagining what you look like, what you’re doing to yourself to cum.”

You let out a shaky breath, pulling Bucky’s face into a kiss without a second thought.

Instead of being terribly ashamed at the thought of Bucky hearing you, you were extremely aroused.

With ease, he slipped his tongue into your mouth, the two wet muscles rubbing against one another in a rough kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. With ease, he grabbed your ass and lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around him. 

Impatient, he started moving you against his erection, moaning like he wanted to when you two were in the elevator. You pulled away from the kiss and whimpered into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of your shorts becoming wet and messy since you didn’t have any underwear on.

“Bucky,” You breathed out, moving your hips along.

“I know Doll, I know how fucking needy you are,” He growled.

Bucky barely managed to put you back on your feet so you could show him to your room. While you were both speedily walking through your apartment, you both shed your clothes, throwing them off onto the floor.

You crawled onto your bed first, looking at him with half-lidded eyes as you laid on your back and spread your legs. Bucky walked up to the edge of your bed, brows raised.

“Do you want me to get ready for you Bucky?” You asked him gently while starting to play with each of your breasts.

‘Fuck, is she going to show me how she gets off?’ Bucky’s hand went down to his aching cock, beginning to stroke it slowly. “I’ve seen it a hundred times in my head, so show me,” He encouraged.

One of your hands went down to the wetness between your legs. Two fingers gently rubbed up and down your wet folds before one pressed into your pussy. You moved it around, slowly, curling it to hit your g-spot only a few times before you entered a second finger. 

Now, your fingers started to pump, picking up the pace, and Bucky’s hand on his cock did the same. You pumped a few times before stopping and curling your fingers to hit and rub your g-spot. Your other hand then moved down, rubbing your clit roughly.

Finally, Bucky heard the dirty noises that left you clearly, instead of muffled through a wall. His tip grew wet with precum and he smeared across his cock so he could stroke faster with ease.

You repeated pumping with your fingers rapidly, then stopping to curl your fingers a few times before pumping again. 

Bucky’s gaze moved from your wet cunt up to your chest, watching your breast move up and down as your breathing picked up. 

You let out a moan, breath hitching as your hands started to lose the fast pace they had.

Bucky was growing close himself, hips thrusting into his tightened grip.

“Bucky!” You moaned out, legs twitching as you came around your fingers.

Watching your juices pour out, he lost it, his tight ballsack finally releasing his hot load. He closed his eyes, head tilting back while he pumped each spurt of cum out.

Each of your breathings had relaxed. Bucky heard you move on your mattress, opening his eyes to glance down and see you now at the edge in front of him. 

You wrapped a hand around his half-limp cock, stroking it while you started to clean off the cum with your tongue.

Again, Bucky found himself hard all thanks to you. He placed his metal hand on the back of your head. Carefully, he gripped a handful of your hair and pushed your mouth further while moving his hips. 

He thrusted his hips into your mouth only a few times before pulling away, a thin strand of saliva falling down your chin. He pulls you up for a kiss, pushing you each down on the bed.

“Tell me how badly you want it (Y/N),” He mumbled into the kiss.

His length slides and down your wet slit, the head teasing your pussy. 

You moan, biting his lip lightly. “I want it so much. Please Bucky, I need your cock filling me up,” You begged.

More than happy with your reply, Bucky begins to press his throbbing length in you, your wetness stretching around him. He pushes all the way in before nearly pulling out and pushing in again, keeping a steady pace.

He starts thrusting harder, his balls now hitting you with each thrust. Your cunt tightens around him, again you wrap your legs around him to bring him closer.

Bucky thrusts into you full speed, each of your breaths hot and heavy once again. You dig your nails into his back, moaning loudly when he lowers his flesh hand to start rubbing your clit. 

“Ngh! Bucky!”

You cum around him and Bucky’s thrust grows harder, his metal hand holding your hip with a tight grip.

When he lets out a deep moan, you feel his cock throb inside of you, feeling his hot release fill you up. Bucky continues thrusting into you, slowly now while you each ride out your climax. 

Pulling out, he lightly slaps his messy dick on your cunt. “You know you’re not going to be getting a lot of rest tonight.”

Your hand went down to stroke his cum covered member again. “I wasn’t hoping not.”

[lallyloo]

The Frozen Corn Incident

(I have stuff going on and haven’t written in a bit, but Rhett’s cold taint wouldn’t leave me alone.. so here’s some awkward silliness and a small amount of smut. Thank you @imincognitohere for listening to me ramble on about this today.. and yesterday) They’d been back in the office for awhile, and Link had been so focused on his own work, typing away, he’d barely registered the grunts and sighs from behind him. Complaints after filming were something they were used to – belly aches from hot peppers, headaches from too much sugar, chafed balls from wedgie hangman. They were both equal complainers, and they’d both grown accustomed to tuning the other one out. And Rhett was trying to be quiet, but he couldn’t help himself. He was freezing in places he never imagined he could be so cold, and nothing he did seemed to help. When a frustrated whine cut into Link’s concentration, he spun his chair around to see why Rhett was still complaining about frozen corn on his taint. Rhett looked miserable with one hand stuffed down his jeans, and the sight didn’t surprise Link – after so many years side by side, they’d been in all kinds of crazy situations. They’d seen the good, the bad, and a whole lot of awkward. A hand down the pants seemed par for the course and Link couldn’t help but smirk. “You still sufferin’, brother?”

Rhett’s eyes flicked to him, as if he hadn’t even noticed his presence, and he gave Link a pained look.

“My taint is still freezing, man.”

“You still sittin’ on the corn or what?”

“No, I’m not sittin’ on the corn,” Rhett huffed, and his arm tensed up as he cupped himself harder. “It’s been an hour and I’m still cold. Think I got frost bite or somethin’.”

Link’s eyes went wide, “Frost bite on your taint?”

“Man, I dunno. It’s still freezin’ and nothing I’m doing is helping.”

“Not even your hand? You’ve got the hottest hands out of everyone– ”

“Yeah, but– ”

“Always so dang sweaty– ”

“Link, I know, but it’s not makin’ a difference. It’s like the cold dries up the sweat, or turns it into ice or something.”

“I don’t think that’s– ”

“I gotta figure out somethin’. What happens if you get frost bite on your taint? Can they amputate a chode?”

“Ugh, don’t call it that.”

“But can they?”

“Rhett, they’re not gonna –

“I don’t wanna lose my taint.” Rhett stared at him in horror, “Or my balls?? What if –

“Rhett, you’re not gonna lose your taint or your balls. You’re crazy, dude.”

“Well, it feels like it. Feels like I’m losin’ feeling..”

“In your balls?”

“Everywhere.”

“Your butthole?”

“I dunno, maybe!”

“What about your..” Link raised his eyebrows and made a pointing motion towards Rhett’s dick. “Your tallywhacker?”

“Dude, shut up!” Rhett leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, bringing his free hand up to cover them. “Don’t make me think about it. I can’t lose my dick to a frozen corn incident.”

Link laughed, “You’re being dramatic. You’re not gonna lose your dick.”

Rhett lifted his hand to glare at him, his eyes narrow. “You don’t know.”

“You want me to get a heating pad or somethin’?”

Rhett was hopeful for a moment. “Do we have one?”

“I don’t know,” Link shrugged. “I could text Jenna and ask her to get one.”

“No,” Rhett waved his hand and covered his eyes again. “I’m not askin’ her to get a heating pad for my nads.”

“What? Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Dude, I don’t have to say it’s for your nutsack– ”

“And my taint.”

“Your nutsack and your taint. And your butthole if you’re gonna get specific.”

“Link, I’m sufferin’ here.”

“Can I text her?”

“NO!”

Link stared at him for a moment before letting out a loud sigh. “Stand up.”

“What?” Rhett sat up a little straighter in the chair.

“Just stand up.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna help you, now stand up.”

Rhett stood up slowly, his hand still stuck down his jeans.

“Gimme this.” Link grabbed Rhett’s wrist and eased his hand out of his pants, running his fingertips over Rhett’s. “Dude, your fingers are like ice!”

“I know, I told you!”

Link forced Rhett’s hand into his pocket, shoving it down deep and giving it a couple forceful pats for emphasis. “Leave it in there, let it warm up.”

“What’re you gonna– ”

“I’m gonna help you.”

Link took him by the shoulders and angled him so Link was up against his right side and Rhett went willingly, glancing down between them where Link’s hand was hovering over his zipper.

“Like, help help?”

“Yeah,” Link cupped the air and made a rubbing motion with his hand, “Help help. That okay?”

Rhett nodded, his eyebrows raised, “Well, yeah.”

Link popped the button on his jeans and eased the zipper down, and Rhett held his breath as Link’s hand slipped inside his boxer briefs.

Link was to-the-point about it, seemingly unfazed by the proximity of his hand to Rhett’s dick.

“You want me to– ” Rhett offered, “Move it outta the way?”

Link shook his head. “S’fine.”

Link brushed past Rhett’s cock, barely registered it touching his forearm, slipping under his balls the same way he would with his own if he was going to rub his own taint. He was focused, but he jerked his hand away for a second when he made contact with damp, cold skin.

“Dang, Rhett, you are cold.”

“I told ya.”

“What’ve you been doin’ sittin’ here with your hand down your britches?”

“Tryin’ to warm up”

“Tryin’ and failin’ more like,” Link muttered.

They tended to get a little more Southern in those moments, murmuring softly to each other. But they’d never done that, never been that close, with Link’s hand there, and Link settled his fingertips on the skin between Rhett’s balls and butt.

Rhett let out a breathy sigh of relief. “Your hands are warm.”

“Well yeah, dummy,” Link said quietly. “You should’a asked me to do this earlier”

They were quiet as Link rubbed him a bit, like a test at first, trying to bring warmth to the cold skin

“Does it burn?”

Rhett was distracted and it took him a moment to reply. “Burn?”

“Yeah, as it’s warmin’ up?”

“Oh, nah, not yet.”

Link was careful with his fingers, but with every few swipes he slipped a little too far back and Rhett jumped.

“Watch my–” he laughed nervously. “Watch my butthole.”

Link huffed out a laugh. “Your butthole?”

“Yeah!”

“I ain’t gonna finger your butthole if that’s what you’re worryin’ about.”

“I’m not worryin’,” Rhett said, because he wasn’t. That wasn’t what he meant.

They stayed quiet for another moment, as if they were both thinking.

“Is it cold though?” Link murmured.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to.. like,” Link slipped his hand back a little further and ghosted over Rhett’s ass. His cheeks were ice cold and Link chuckled softly. “Freezin’ here too, bo.”

“That’s what I told ya,” Rhett mumbled. “But you don’t have to..”

“You want me to though?”

Rhett paused before answering with a soft, “Yeah.”

Link rubbed gently, slow enough that he wouldn’t irritate Rhett’s frozen and overly-sensitive skin, but fast enough to bring warmth to the area. The base of his palm bumped against Rhett’s balls, his forearm sliding against Rhett’s cock, and Link didn’t say a word as Rhett grew hard against him. They both knew it was natural. Friction could do that.

“Dick’s warm,” Rhett muttered, trying to bring humor to the situation.

Link nodded, “I know.”

Rhett glanced down between them. “Is it buggin’ you? I can hold it up.”

“S’fine,” Link reiterated. “Ain’t botherin’ me none.”

And it wasn’t bothering him. It was just another thing. Cool butt, cold taint, warming balls, hot hard dick. It was fine.

Link slowed the rubbing, trying to change it up a bit as he pressed his fingers against Rhett’s taint.

“Pressin’ your button,” he murmured.

“What?” Rhett huffed out.

Link pushed in again and then started massaging in slow circles. “The evac button.”

“Oh,” Rhett breathed, “right..”

And then Link felt it.

Rhett’s dick was leaking slick and wet on his arm.

And in theory it should’ve bothered him, but it didn’t. At all.

“Feel good?” Link found himself asking.

And Rhett surprised himself by admitting, “real good..”

Link nodded and continued his kneading, his palm tapping against Rhett’s balls until Link just went for it and cupped them. They were soft, almost velvety, not much different than his own, and he held them the way he held himself, knowing what he liked and figuring Rhett might like it too.

“You’re warmin’ up,” Link breathed, as if the cold was even still a concern at that point, when he was actively playing with his best friend’s ballsack and massaging his taint.

Rhett just panted, actually panted, in reply and slid in the slick that now coated Link’s arm.

“You want me to stop?” Link asked, knowing it was probably a stupid question, and honestly hoping Rhett wouldn’t want him to.

“No,” Rhett huffed out a laugh, because that was the last thing he wanted, “god, don’t.”

So they were doing this, and it was fine. Just another thing.

Except it wasn’t just another thing. It was a big thing. Rhett was rubbing his dick on Link’s arm, and Link was pretty sure he was going to help him cum, and it somehow made sense, and then Rhett was tensing, and Link found he needed to watch him.

He wanted to see Rhett cum.

He’d heard it before – their college dorm room was small, and Link was good at feigning sleep. But he’d never seen Rhett’s face in those moments.

And here they were, and Link was helping to make it happen, wanting to make it happen, wanting to see it happen. He rubbed the now-warm skin, slipping his fingers back to ghost over Rhett’s ass again and he recognized the sharp inhale of breath as Rhett came and spurted wet heat over Link’s forearm.

Rhett was cumming in his boxers, all over Link’s arm and hand, and it was only then that Link really registered that he was hard too, and okay, this was something new. Something they’d probably need to explore further.

But currently, Rhett was looking down, his hair falling into his eyes as he chuckled softly, embarrassed.

Link knew further exploration would have to wait. But he was determined that it would happen. He eased his arm out of Rhett’s jeans, and turned it over, examining the mess Rhett had made on it.

“I’m gonna go wash my hands,” he said, grinning, “and arm.”

Rhett watched him go, speaking up just as Link reached the door. “We gotta tell the writers they can never go colder than frozen corn.”

Link stopped and looked back at him. “Nah, we can go colder.”

“Link,” Rhett gave him a crazed look, “I’ll lose everything next time, dick and all.”

“You’ll be alright.”

“Your hand ain’t that warm, man.”

“That’s true,” Link replied, shooting Rhett another grin as he slipped out the door, and Rhett could hear his voice echoing down the hallway, “but I got a hot mouth!”

[katsukis-sad-angel]

Based on a True Story

Summary: there's this boy who makes you super uncomfy and doesnt take a hit, but you're to sweet to tell him to back off. Katsuki Bakugou, the more blunt end of the friendship, is happy to tell him off and free you from that sorry bastard.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Warnings: possible tw, a lot of swearing and some pretty colorful insults, there are guys that are really fucking creepy, based on the actual events of February 7th, 2021 at around 10:30 pm

A/N: this was very very rushed, I just wanted to write myself some comfort real quick and go to bed last night and I didn't have time to properly edit! I'm really proud of some of the banter lmao, please enjoy and never be afraid to punt a ballsack! I'll add tags later🙄🙄🙄

A message popped up on your screen and your once neutral expression went sour. Slamming the face of your phone onto your pillow, you groaned angrily into your bedspread, catching the attention of a certain ash blonde sitting in your comfy desk chair a few feet away. Katsuki Bakugou, one of your best friends, gave a questioning glance but refused to meet his ember gaze

“What’s your deal?” He asked, not letting his genuine curiosity as to why there was such a pained look on your face, show.

You opened your mouth but paused.

Katsuki already knew about this boy and scolded you every time he saw his name pop up in your notifications, telling you to ‘fucking block him already’ for the umpteenth time. It wasn’t like you had feelings for the guy anymore, you were just too nice and polite to cut him off completely and tell him to go fuck himself.

The ash-blonde had already volunteered to do it for you, but you always said no because you knew he’d just find another way to contact you.

“It’s that piss baby again isn’t it?” 

“Yeah…”

“Wow, did you just agree with one of my insults?”

“Suki, I’m about to take you up on your offer to tell him to go fuck himself.”

He snickered, “Now you’re talking sense. What the hell is that pansy bitching about now?”

You sigh and roll over on your back and Katsuki moves to sit on the edge of your bed.

“I cut him off for a while, I really did! It felt so good to be free of him, but then he got my number again and started bothering me a few days ago. I saw him at school yesterday and told him I wasn’t interested in dating at all and he was like whatever so I honestly thought he could keep it in his pants and we could just be friends but nooo! He calls me a simp for anime guys, I tell him to stop being a hypocrite because he used to simp for me and he was like “I still do. You’re the only one” yeah like I’m stupid enough to actually believe that!”

You paused to catch your breath, but before you could start speaking again Katsuki interjected, “Well, you are stupid…”

You socked him in the bicep and he hunched over laughing. You looked so fucking adorable when you got royally pissed at him.

“Oh go to hell.” You snapped, crossing your arms and continuing, “Anyway, this guy used to simp for my goddamn sister! Not only do I reject being a replacement for her, but if she rejected his sorry ass, that means he’s a huge piece of shit because she’s super picky.”

“I might’ve mentioned that once or twice-”

You punched him again to shut him up. “Plus he’s super creepy and gross and it always feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and whenever he’s around I want to dive into a pool full of only chlorine and drink it. I’m just trying to coexist and just be nice to him but apparently, a female looking in his general direction means that they want dicked down by his micropenis. He’s so fucking dense too. Why can’t he see that I’m not interested, especially after I EXPLICITLY told him that?!”

By that point, you were on the verge of frustrated tears, bottom lip trembling just slightly with bottled up emotion.

Katsuki could see it.

You felt trapped in something you never signed up for and you’d do anything to get out. All of this frustration had been stored inside of you for so long and it just kept mounting and multiplying until you burst into tears.

“Goddammit, come here dumbass,” He growled, gathering you into a warm embrace, “You can’t keep all this bs inside okay?”

He let you sob into his shoulder, one calloused hand supporting the base of your neck and the other crossed firmly over your back so you’d feel safe and secure; away from the world full of horrible people and into a small one of just your best friend’s warmth and the sweet sweet scent of caramel.

“Why don’t you listen to me? You’re just too fucking nice to every shitty dickhead that sees you as an easy, fuckable target. Something really fucking bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t shape up and learn how to punt a dude’s excuse for a ballsack and tell him what you really think.”

You raised your head from the solace of his shoulder to look at him with big, reproachful doe eyes and whimpered, “I tried that!”

“Have you tried punting their fucking balls first?”

“No… that would hurt.”

“That’s the point.”

“But if I did it without reason I could get suspended or charged with aggravated assault!”

It was Katsuki’s turn to sigh.

“That’s not the point dumbass, the point is that you need to tell these bastards off when they start getting creepy. You know what? Why don’t you just fucking ignore their sorry asses in the first place!”

You sniffle and drag a hand over your cheek to dry your tears, then resume your position with your face in the crook of your best friend’s neck.

“I feel bad for them.”

“Well stop. I’m gonna call him now alright? After that, we’ll block his stupid ass on every fucking app, you hear me?”

You nod and hug him tighter as he leans forward to grab your phone and opens it with your passcode, swiftly finding his name in your contact list and pressing the call icon, then he tapped the speaker button and waited.

The call was picked up almost immediately and a voice on the other line said, “Hey cutie! I was just about to call and ask to see if you wanted to come over on-”

“She’s not here.” Katsuki cut him off with a dry snarl, “And last time I checked she wasn’t interested enough in your sorry ass for you to be calling her ‘cutie.’” 

You could almost hear his lip curl in utter disgust.

“Who the fuck are you?” The voice asked, dropping its sickeningly sweet tone to something more appropriate in light of the previous insult.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend you dickwad-” You popped up from your haven in surprise, mouth open to sputter in protest but he put a finger to your lips and smirked, “who the fuck are you?”

“No fucking way that whore has a boyfriend-”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me? Shut your mouth, you mother fucking pussy, insult her one more time and I’ll fuck you up so bad you won’t be recognizable by the time you get to the hospital.” He snapped back, “She’s crying right now because you’re too dense to realize she doesn’t want any business with some horse-faced piss baby like you. Take the hint right fucking now you useless bastard so you don’t make the mistake of coming near her again because I. Will. Kill. You. Delete this number because she’s too sweet to block you herself, but I will.”

“Fuck man, I was just tryna get laid. She’s the one who started rubbing herself all over me-”

“I said delete this number. Damn, you are a dense piece of shit aren’t you?”

“Hey, I-”

Katsuki pressed ‘end call’ and blocked his contact, moving from Instagram to Snapchat, to any social app you had, and blocked him left and right until he was satisfied.

“Feel better?” He asked softly, tossing your phone aside and peeling you off.

You carded a shaky hand through your hair and wiped your eyes, giving him a watery smile and a nod.

“Why did you tell him that we were in a relationship?” You asked, voice on the edge of a taunt.

“To make him mad.”

“I mean, it worked, but is that the only reason?” You giggled.

“The hell are you insinuating?”

“Do you… possibly by chance�� have feelings for me?”

You batted your eyes at him and he retched, but the smirk was still present on his handsome features.

“What’s it to you?”

You squirm a bit, but something pops into your head so you can stall a bit longer.

“I mean, you’re not THAT ugly-”

He responded with a simple, harsh flick to the forehead to make you whine and try to whack him, but he easily intercepted your fist and pushed you on your back, caging you in nothing short of a horizontal kabedon.

It was your turn to smirk, “Yenno ‘Suki, I could very easily… oh what was your phrasing? ‘Punt your fucking balls’ in this position…”

“Just shut up and tell me what the hell you want.” Katsuki snapped.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” You prod.

“You look like a pissed hamster when you’re mad.” He shot back.

“You smell like a fucking candy store after training.”

“You’re the dictionary definition of a dumbass.”

“You have a better hourglass figure than Yaomomo.”

“You're quickly becoming an extra.”

“Date me.”

“Fine.”

“Wait really?”

“It’s the only way I can kiss you, protect you, and keep you all to myself.” He shrugged, leaning in dangerously close, “You don’t fucking understand how hard it is to watch you prancing around with one failed abortion after another and watching you cry because they leave since you don’t want the one thing they’re after.”

“You’ve always been there for me ‘Suki… I guess I just took you for granted, and I’m really sorry.” You met his soft vermillion gaze with a meaningful and apologetic one and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“‘S okay. You’re mine now, right?”

You nod, smiling. 

“So it doesn’t matter how dense you are anymore.” He smirked, laying down on your bed and dragging you down with him so you were tucked comfortably under his chin.

You grabbed the remote and flicked on the tv, preparing to turn on an anime you had in mind.

“What romance garbage are you inflicting on me this time?” Your new boyfriend groaned, burying his face in your hair.

“One that’s super sappy and romantic and sad just to piss you off.” You pouted, clicking on each letter to form the desired word in the search bar.

“Have fun with that.” Katsuki snarked, beginning to move away, but you stopped him by deftly pressing your lips to his.

You slowly pulled away, blushing furiously, but happy to feel strong forearms snaking around your front and crossing over your stomach.

“I certainly will.” You respond.

[hatsukeii]

One where y/n has been obviously in love with Tsuki since they were kids and not afraid to show it, but he’s always been lowkey mean to her and thinks she’s annoying and then finally years later she decides he’s not a nice guy and let’s him know she’s fine with all that crap and then he realizes he’s falling for her and does something really sweet for her and they fall in love? 😭😭🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ty in advance. Sorry if this is too long or specific, if it is, feel free to ignore

I genuinely hope you didn’t think I would actually ignore this<33

IM SORRY IM A MASTER PROCRASTINATOR ILY ALL AND YOU ALL DESERVE AN APOLOGY FROM ME

Dear diary//Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Cursing

Genre: Angst??? I guess???

Summary: He’s an ass, but you still love him to bits, and it’s killing you.

July 16, 2008

Dear Diary,

I got to play with Tsukki again! He had his dino with him, it was super cute! He told me his front teeth came off last night, and there’s a big hole in his teeth, but it’s okay, because he said it will grow back. I tried to hold his hand while going down the twin slides but he said it was sweaty, so next time I’ll wear gloves!

You flip through the hot pink diary, cringing at your young infatuation. Your diary entries were cringey as fuck, but they always rekindle something within you whenever you read them. You can’t even remember when you stopped writing in the book. Was it when you turned 10? Maybe 12? You don’t have a single clue.

April 30, 2011

Dear Diary,

Tsukki refused to marry me in the playground at break:(( I’ve known him for so long though, aren’t we supposed to get married? I just wanna hold his hand and hug him and give him a biiiiig kiss<33

Chuckling at the memory, you recalled the event from that entry clearly. You were seven years old only, still an immature kid. You still thought that getting married in a middle school playground was a huge milestone in life, almost as crucial as a legal marriage.

May 29, 2016

Dear Diary,

Love how Tsukki didn’t even remember my birthday:,) Must be nice getting made fun of. Half the students in my class felt my second hand embarrassment from when he completely forgot about it. God, why am I even in love with this asshole? I’m gonna have to go to school tomorrow and deal with all my classmates making fun of me for being hopeless. Brb, currently digging a hole for myself:)

Frowning at the memory, you think back to when you were twelve. He was an asshole then, still is an asshole to this day. And yet not an ounce of your unconditional love and support for him has faded. Grabbing a tissue, you wipe the remaining tears from your eyes, ignoring the dried tear stains on your cheek. Your hand slams onto the bedside table, lazily feeling for your phone. Tilting it towards your face, you sigh at the empty lock screen, accepting defeat. Flicking through the rest of the book, you are welcomed by pages and pages of white. “So that’s when I gave up on this diary...” you mutter to yourself as you lift yourself up from your bed. Heading towards your desk, you absentmindedly grab yourself a pen, notebook in hand. Slamming the diary down, you open it up to the next entry page after your last one, gently placing the tip of your pen on the first line. You grab your hair out of frustration, the ink bleeding into the thin paper. “What to do, what to do...?” You mumble, starting to form sentences in your notebook.

July 17, 2020

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? Holy shit, all my entries were about Tsukki weren’t they? Jesus, of course they were. At least I was able to get it off my chest this afternoon. Telling him that I’ve been in love with him for years, that was fucking terrifying. Telling him that although I know he’s an ass, an animatronic dick complete with ballsack, that won’t stop me from falling harder, it was gut wrenching, but also relieving to a certain degree. I’m still waiting for some form of response, although I’m not sure I’m gonna get one anytime soon. I can’t decide whether telling him was the dumbest or bravest decision I’ve made. Maybe it was both. Just wait until I look back on this entry like a decade later and still cry about it lmao. Tbh he’s a genuinely nice person at heart. I know that all too well. He may be an ass most the time, and he may think I’m annoying, but despite how hard he tries to push me away, I’ll never abandon him. Jesus Christ, I sound like a yandere here, but it’s not that. It’s that I care for him a lot. Maybe even a bit too much. It’s ridiculous how absolute and utter shit a crush can make you feel.

Throwing the pen down, you flop back onto your bed, huffing into the thick blankets. You stay silent, not sure of what to think of the situation. “I’ll just deal with it all tomorrow, I’m tired of this shit.”

On the other side of the incident, Tsukishima is currently going through a mental crisis.

The blond sits at his desk, eyes unwavering, but focusing on nothing. It feels as if he hasn’t blinked in what seemed to be hours. Just hours of staring at his wall that led to nothing. Your confession plays in his head nonstop, like a broken record that refused to run out of battery.

“The thing is I like you. I’m pretty sure I always have. And I know that you’re such an asshole and all that, you won’t treat me as well as people would expect, but it’s fine. I’m fine with all that. All the dumb, stupid, careless insults you’ll throw at me, the side eyes and sneers, telling me to shut up and go away, I’m fine with it. I know you’re a good person, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Well shit what the fuck do you want me to say?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe he should have let you down slowly.

But as he stares at his wall, the photos of the two of you framed and balanced on his floating shelves, he starts to reconsider his feelings.

The way your expression faltered then as you hastily took your bag and rushed away without a single word, the way you avoided him in the halls, the way you stopped talking to him throughout the day, it drove him crazy. He couldn’t handle the realisation that he hurt you so incredibly badly, so now all he can do is stare at his empty, blank wall. Did he know why he felt that way? No. He didn’t and still doesn’t. He’s Tsukishima fucking Kei, the emotionless, provoking, unlikeable king, yet a mere girl is somehow able to mess with his mind so badly, that all he can do is wallow in regret and confusion? What is this weird feeling? His throat itches, his heart is beating like crazy, sweat starting to gather around his temples. He clamps his two hands together, slamming his forehead onto them and squeezing his eyes shut.

How could I have been so dense?

How was he unable to see that you were absolutely in love with him? Even with the bento boxes, birthday gifts, constant compliments, he still only ever thought you liked him as a friend. However he never did. He likes you more than that. Way more. Yes, he thought, and still thinks you can be annoying at times, especially when you nag at him about not eating enough or being rude, but it was undeniable that there was something else he felt. But his stupid ass shitty ego would never let him admit it. And now that you finally confessed, he freaked out and fucked up. Even then, he didn’t think it would affect him to this extent.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you (Y/N).”

He says that over and over again, desperate to cloud out the disagreeing thoughts in his head that scream otherwise.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

The guilt didn’t go away.

In fact, now that he’s said all that, he feels even worse. Oh how much he wants to find you right this second, wrap you in his arms, tell you how incredibly sorry he is, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to do that. His heart is begging for him to just get out of the house and run to yours as fast as he could, but his body won’t move. He wants to cry. Scream. Shout. Throw something. Shatter something. But most of all, he wants to get another chance.

Picking up his phone, he hesitates, before typing in your contact, the cleared out, empty chatroom showing up on his screen. Going as fast as his fingers could, he typed out the one sentence he’s been dying to let out.

“It was a middle school crush, but I’m still into you. I always have been.”

Is it just me, or is this bad-

Idk man it seems like all my fics are pretty much the same and I hate it😌

Tags:

@sunshines-and-tatertots @izzyphantomgamer @justachillgirl @trashcanweeb @just-another-bored-writer @poppirocks @majorfangirl37 @kaylacinderella @random-fandomlover @tiger1719 @tiredgr3mlin @itmekisuu @skyeackermans @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @shoutsukii @agentvicinity @sakusasgarbage @kuroo-thought-of-a-better-un @sneezefiction @bokutokoutarou @thirstyvolleyballhoe @iwaixiumi @iwaigroomi @inlwlevi

Feel free to comment or pm to be added to taglist!

I’m back to writing lmao I’m bored in two week quarantine rn

Edit: cue me realising I was half asleep and missed something in the request don’t be surprised if I repost this💀💀💀💀

Btw the hq manga just ended time to cry

💕💕💕💕

[tired0artist]

sing to me (part one)

paring: female!V x Johnny Silverhand

summary: a street kid V falls in love with SAMURAI music and idolises Johnny Silverhand. years later she finally understands the saying “never meet your idols”

warnings: angst and fluff, Johnny being a dick as always, arguments, Jackie and V are like siblings, Mama Wells is the best, grief, V plays the guitar, more/different warnings in the future parts

note: I’m describing my V, but you can imagine her however you want tho

•SAMURAI fan V (street kid)•

Ever since she heard “Never Fade Away” playing on some radio on the streets, she fell in love with it.

She was around 13 and world was shitty, she was angry at the corpos and other rich bastards (her rebellious years really).

So finding out that basically the whole SAMURAI was fucking the corpos and singing about it? Also that Johnny Silverhand bombed Arasaka? Fucking legendary.

One of the happiest days of her life.

V started scavenging for their old records, t-shirts and shit like that. And her first payment for stealing some shard from some corpo fuck, went for a new record player.

When she hit 17, V snuck into some fancy bar to see Kerry Eurodyne playing. Of course he was playing some of his own songs, but couple of SAMURAI ones were there.

Another great day in her life.

Turning 21 instead of going drinking or something like that. V found herself at a music store, buying her first guitar.

For a year she was teaching herself how to play. To the point where her fingertips started scaring, from all the times she played until she bleed.

At 22 she played at some bar, earning some descent money. And a broken nose from some fuck who dared to insult her playing.

He of course looked far worse than she did.

That was when she met Jackie, while trying to steal a car.

Apparently getting your shit beaten out of you by cops, was a great start of a friendship.

Greatest day in her life.

She stopped sleeping in an old warehouse and moved in with Jackie, to his mama’s basement.

V felt the happiest there, the warmth and freedom of her new home. That’s how she wrote her first song.

“You should be a musician, you’re really talented” said Mama Wells as she came upon V humming and playing out on the balcony, Jackie sitting next to her with a beer.

V laughed but didn’t stop playing “Yeah sure”

“Mama is right! You could be a star chica” Jackie said, being as optics always.

“You could play at El Coyote Cojo during the weekends” Mama Wells said with a smile.

“I don’t know, the last time I played at a bar it ended up in a fight” V said, chewing on her lip.

“Chica... I’ll be your bodyguard. I’ll even wear a suit!” said Jackie with a grin.

V laughed “I sure would like to see that”

“So, I’m going to tell Pepe to set everything up for you” said Mama Wells with a smile “Now come on ninõs, dinner is ready”

And so for three years, V was regularly playing at Mama Wells’ bar.

Some people even got inside just to listen to her play and sometimes sing whenever she felt like using her words to channel even more emotions through her music.

And then came the worst couple of days of her life.

“Dexter Deshawn!!! Can you believe it V?! We could finally be on top!” said Jackie on their way to Afterlife.

V smiled at her friend, as her heart screamed that it wasn’t what she wanted anymore. When she met Jackie she wanted to the best of the best.

But after so many years with music? She longed to play. Even to get her own album someday!

And yet she bit her tongue, buried her dreams thinking.

I’ll help Jackie get on top and then I’ll take care of my own dreams.

But it didn’t happen.

Jackie died along with V’s musical soul, right in that Delamain. As the rain poured against the windows, creating an off rhythm that reminded her of her stuttering and crushed heart.

Next thing she knows after that, is that she died.

Then woke up.

Got saved by Takemura.

Nearly died again.

And once again woke up, this time at Vik’s.

Panic was clawing at her chest as she remembered hazily her hallucinations, tears gathered in her eyes as she didn’t know what was happening to her.

“These hallucinations... explain them to me”

“I-I’m on stage... but not at El Coyote... I don’t recognise it. T-The music is loud and aggressive... familiar in a way but I can’t remember it clearly anymore... lights are shining on my face as I scream to the crowd. I-I’m full of rage and no matter how much I’ll scream... it won’t go away...”

She then chuckled humourlessly “And then... just don’t laugh at me. I bombed the Arasaka tower...”

“Nothing there to laugh about, kid...” Vik said, his eyes showing sadness.

“The worst part is that... I can still feel this rage. And some... frustration? Irritation? But I-I don’t know why. I don’t feel that way? Then why?”

Vik sat down, saying “These hallucinations.. they were memories. There’s a personality construct on that shard. Dreams you had, were from his past”

“So you’re saying that... I was experiencing another psyche’s memories? How’s that even possible?” V asked, the alien irritation in her head growing.

“You two are connected in a way that I can’t make head or tail out of”

“Two? Me and who Vik? Who’s in my head?” she asked, anxiety growing in her chest.

“Johnny Silverhand. A terrorist. A real talk of the town back in my days”

V’s breath got stuck in her throat as she said “You’re saying... that there’s a dead rockerboy in my head. The same one who played with SAMURAI?”

Victor just nodded, and the fear inside her grew.

But that wasn’t even the worst part yet.

“He’s overwriting your consciousness. You don’t have much time left kid... few weeks tops”

V cried with fear begging Victor to help her, but there’s nothing he could do.

Nothing anyone could do.

The same night she met him. The guy that she admired as a kid. The guy who was a part of her favourite band. The guy who inspired her into making her own music.

And the guy who was killing her.

Silverhand tossed her around her apartment, surprising her with that fact that he could touch her.

It made her afraid of him. Because no one would help her if he suddenly decided to kill her. To them it would seem like cyber psychosis.

But still she fought back. She had nothing to loose after Jackie. She glared at him, yelled at him and crawled her way towards the pills.

“Fuck off!” she said to him, seconds before he dematerialised. With that she laid down and fell asleep on the ground, her body too exhausted to move.

Next morning was hell for her.

Her head was in agony not only from the fact that she was shot in the head, but also because it got smashed into a window.

She washed herself, took care of her broken nose, dressed in her favourite black leather pants, grey sleeveless hoodie and black biker vest. Putting on her combat boots and pulling the hood over her still damp peach-pink hair, she left her apartment.

As she was leaving the bloc, Takemura called her. Asking to meet up.

V didn’t want to, but the man was persistent. So finally she agreed and still feeling like shit, took the metro to their meeting place.

Takemura was easy to find, his clean and fancy clothing standing out.

The man seemed reliable and openly spoke about what he wanted. She could work with that.

After Goro left, V let out a deep breath. A feeling of hope finally igniting in her, that maybe. Just maybe, she’ll be able to survive.

But that moment of peace lasted only couple of seconds as Silverhand appeared, sitting in front of her as if he was really there, tapping his hands against the table.

“Zapper-dumples and filth. In some ways, Night City never changes. Arasaka’s still a despotic machine and the world’s on a collision course with chaos. But hey, at least Rogue’s still alive” the man said, his leg on the table looking like a jackass.

Or a rockerboy.

V’s fear and anger bleed into one as she said angrily and quite loudly.

“You know, you got some nerve. First you’re out to kill me, now you wanna be my choom? Make like nothing happened?”

People turned to stare at her as if she’s lost her mind. Making her realise that, yeah. Only she could see that fucker.

And to think that she idolised the bastard as a kid.

Silverhand looked around at the people saying “You know you don’t gotta speak out loud to talk to me?”

V glared at him, her fingers twitching.

“What. Do. You. Want” she said in her mind.

“I’ve processed some shit, changed my mind. Don’t want you dead anymore”

“Go fuck yourself, you fucking dick” she said angrily, pointing her finger at him.

“Hey, wasn’t easy for me, either. You woke up in a landfill, I woke up in your head. Wrestling with your thoughts, memories. Think we’re even”

“The fuck we are! I didn’t try to murder you, while you were almost dead in your bed!” she accused, not feeling scared anymore. Just angry.

Silverhand pretended he didn’t hear her as he took off his glasses saying “I’ve taken a step back, looked at things... think we might be able to help each other. We could start with Rogue. Her and I go back to the stone age”

V snorted “I don’t know if you realised it yet. But you’re dead Silverhand. No one close to my age even knows that you ever existed. Your friends are either dead or so old that their memory is shit”

Silverhand looked ready to murder her but she didn’t stop.

“And what? You fucking know Rogue. What do you expect me to say to her? That I have a parasite inside my brain that would love to meet her? I’ll be out of the Afterlife before I can say “SAMURAI””

“Rogue’s heard dumber shit than that. Way back when you weren’t even an itch in your daddy’s ballsack” he said, the alien feeling of annoyance becoming clearer inside her. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, his other leg joining the first one on the table “Rogue will dance to any tune I play her. Just get us to the Afterlife”

V stood up and leaned down on the table, their faces inches from each other “You think you’re so smart Silverhand. So fucking clever. But let me give you an advice, old man” she watched him glare back at her, as she continued “I admired you as a kid. You know that, from my memories. But should also know from them, that I don’t bow down to anyone. Especially to dicks like you. So now. Be a good little ghost and fade away”

With that she stood up and left. Silverhand didn’t appear again that day, which she counted as a win.

•english isn’t my first language so sorry for any errors.

•you wanna be tagged in the next parts? leave a comment!

•thanks for reading! hope you like it. I will be going through some parts of the main story and beyond. I’m planning it to be a bit longer so if you want something longer than 5/6 parts, this is for you

[peaches-of-1]

Training: Golden Dicks Award (pt 2)

And we’re back. My mstrlst is in my bio, so you can catch up there. Also I reblogged it before posting this, so you can just scroll down a bit. This is shorter than the first part.

All the usual warnings apply: Voyerism, orgy, lesbian sex, blood mention, chastity, hypnotism.

If you want something specific tagged, lemme know!

After eating what could be categorized as dinner, you put yourself together again. There’d be a rush at intermission, but you were ready as your hypnosis went deeper. Apparently, you had called out some of your owners’ names instead of the one given to you to say. So you were given more layers a sleep. A fog would permanently be in your mind.

“Alligator”

“Crocodile”

Intermission. First was half of one of the larger groups. Then the second half. No time for clean up. You weren’t sure if they had used your ass or not. They liked your lap dances more and parading you around than actual sex.

Third group during intermission wanted you clean, so a quick shower with lots of help. Then you were dried off. They wanted a fashion show first.

Blue see through pants with a bikini top. Then a slutty schoolgirl outfit featuring a micro skirt that showed off your ass. You felt the semen shifting inside. Nothing but pearls were your next outfit. They were cascading off of every body part.

“Sit on my lap, beautiful.”

“Yes, sir.” I was to call them sir.

This blonde haired one was all muscle, his thighs were strong and firm. He hugged you around the waist. The other gave lust filled grins.

“[Redacted] was right about you, cutie. You look good in everything, so fuckable.” The smaller one was to your left and he scratched your chin.

Their tall and pale member kissed up your legs as the one hugging your waist kissed your neck. The one on your right was also quite muscular, and his lips were very adorable. The three others were looking for your next outfit. The one they would fuck you in.

“They said you can take anything.” Baby lips said.

“I can, sir.” You replied. “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Dimples came out with Smiley and Legs. Your brain had given them secondary names to make sure you could tell one from the other. Legs was the only rapper wearing shorts. IT seems they went for more of a school boy uniform this era.

It was Smiley who held up the pink latex dress up and said to get ready quickly. How much time had passed? Had they already performed? Was that why they were taking their time?

Either way, you changed into the tight and bright outfit, and went back out to see them.

“Fuck…” Dimples said and licked his lips. “Nice choice [redacted].”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

They all turned to the smaller one, saying he got to give the first orders. He wanted a tit job, so you got on your knees in front of him. Sir pulled out his cock, and you began rubbing it with your latex covered tits.

“Oh god, [redacted] was right!” His voice shot up to his higher octaves. “Holy shit.”

“Wow, hyung” said the lanky and pale member. “She’s that good, huh?”

He grinned, “Oh, yeah. It feels good.”

The other men started rubbing themselves. You focused on your breasts and the dick between them. You stuck your tongue out and touched the tip to it.

Legs asked, “Cutie, how many times has cum gone in your ass?”

“I...I don’t know.” It upset you a bit. “I was supposed to get 7, but so many, and I’m not sure. At least 5?”

He scratched your scalp, “It’s ok if you don’t remember. It sorta got messy, huh?”

You nodded and thought to yourself how much of an understatement that was.

“I think you should get this thing off. You’ve worked so hard. [Redacted] himself even tried to break you.”

“He’s got a harem, I’m pretty sure.” Smiley said.

You spoke, “I have to be sure, though.”

“Don’t worry.” The oldest said. “You will be.”

The muscly one from earlier added, “We’ll top you off.” His voice came from behind you.

You dress had rolled up to your waist and he unplugged you. It came out like a waterfall. It made your cheeks warm for such a thing to have occurred.

“Well…” He said. “More than 7.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

He shook his hand, “I guess we don’t need lube, then.”

Strong hands grabbed your waist and he lined his cock up to plunge inside you. You moaned and wanted to giggled because he rolled your dress back down. Why? It didn’t matter.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum~” the man in front said. “Open up.”

You parted your lips and stuck out you tongue even further. Sir slid inside and thrust his hips. You were being spit roasted by physical opposites, and it was quite entertaining. As he came in your mouth, two more replace it. The lanky one and Smiley’s.

How many cocks had been shoved down your throat tonight? Even more had been simply sucked on by your golden lips. Was it because it couldn’t reach your throat? Maybe. Maybe it’s just cuz they liked head better. You’d never tell mostly because they’d be nonexistent memories by this time tomorrow.

“Having fun, pup?” A familiar voice asked.

“O…oppa?” Command 16.3a.

“That’s right, pup.”

You heard his footsteps come closer, and you were made to stand up. His face was the only one you saw clearly. Yoongi. Your heart leapt, but you also felt embarrassed. You were so dirty.

He smiled, “Did you miss me?”

Your whole body reached out to hug him. He laughed a bit and kissed your lips. You were so hungry for his kiss, his touch, his everything.

Yoongi smiled, “Calm down, pup.” He looked into your eyes and then sunk to his knees. “Since you’ve been such a good little puppy, your belt is coming off.”

He unlocked it and chuckled at how wet you were, and then he placed it on the side. Your oppa kissed you again.

“I’m about to perform, so I gotta go. Have fun, darling.”

As he turned around, everything went foggy again.

Sir Legs grabbed you and threw you on the bed, “Sorry for being so rough, cutie, but I am gonna be the first to claim that pussy tonight.”

You spread your legs wide open, “Hurry~Sir~”

He growled and began fucking your dripping we pussy. You whole body shivered and you moaned so loudly. It was more like a scream to be honest.

“Fuck~yesssss~”

“And I’ll be the second.” Baby lips said as he slipped into you as well.

It felt like you would foam at the mouth with how good your body felt. A vibrating egg was shoved into your ass. Tears filled your eyes as cock was jammed down your throat as well. You couldn’t tell what was happening beyond the ballsack dangling in front of your face and hitting your nose with every thrust.

Bedsheet was balled up in your hands. You felt like you were gonna die like this. You clawed at the body on top of your own, begging Sir to go deeper. Probably drawing blood as fireworks went off behind your eyes. You clamped down on every cock inside of you as your back arched as much as it could.

Cock slid out of your mouth just to be pounded back in. You gagged as you climaxed, making it feel as though you were floating. They came as yours was just starting to end. You were slathered in their cum. Buckets was an understatement. The others had been rubbing themselves with their hands and quickly replaced all the cocks in your holes. They came so soon after.

The waves of pleasure was still being ridden. Heavy panting surrounded your spasming body. Their cum flowed out of all your holes. You couldn’t tell who hugged you and comforted you until you heard a sound like the crumpling of paper. Condom wrapper? Command 1.2 Soft Reset. All of your muscles began to relax and your consciousness began to slip.

“I’ll take care of her.” Jihye said. “You’re needed in the green room.”

You served a group of Gen 1 idols and then more girls. More outfits. Korean school girl uniform and riding the tip of a super expensive dress shoe. She was so pretty and so sexy dressed in a tight black skirt and white dress shirt with the top three unbuttoned to show off her lacy black bra.

“I changed out of my heels for this, so do better.”

“Yes, ma’am!” you moaned and started working harder.

She had said you weren’t allowed to cum until she gave you permission. Even though this was her show costume, she used it for immersion. You were going crazy trying to hold on since you hadn’t cum since eight people ago.

Your teacher sighed, “I just wanna make a cute girl squirt over my shoes. Is that too much to ask?” Then she held your face to look at her tanned and dark lipped face. “Beg for me.”

“Please, ma’am. Please let me cum! I can’t hold--ahhh. I’ll do anything. Just let me cum. Please. Please. Please. Please ma’am. Please.”

She smirked, “Cum for me.”

You gripped the chair and squirted hardcore. It became even more intense when she said a cue word. You were yourself with your eyes shut tight. It felt as though you were on fire even though you were soooo wet. You rested your head on her thigh. What just happened?

She made you look at her face and your eyes widened, “Hw--”

“See you later alligator!” the voice screamed from their booth.

You blanked on her name. When you came back to your consciousness, you were sitting where Ma’am had been. She was being escorted out by two guards.

She giggled, “I’ll bring the others next time.”

The voice explained, “Everything’s ok, (Y/N). Guests usually don’t know cue words. Even if they do, they’re not supposed to use them. I’m sure she meant no harm, but it’s a liability.”

“I understand. Am I in trouble?”

“No. No. Not you, darling. You were perfect. You’ve got a super special guest. Treat him well.” The voice made you go deeper.

A large man entered, “I’ve never done this before.”

I doubt that. You thought.

“That’s ok. What would you like me to call you? Any name other than your birth name or stage name will work.”

“Um, D-Daddy?” that tattooed man said.

You made sure to smile since he was nervous, “Ok, Daddy. What would you like to call me? I cannot give you my real name.”

He looked at you, “Will Kitten be ok?” his husky voice asked.

“Of course! I’m now your kitten, Daddy. Would you like me to change?” You looked at yourself now only in your white not so covering cover up. They must’ve...you looked at Daddy. “I have many outfits, Daddy. Oh. Please sit, Daddy.”

You were turned eager to please and were more chipper to fit your given role.

“Yes. Of course.” The large man sat on the bed after taking off his shoes.

You looked at him eagerly, “If you wanna pick an outfit for me--”

“No. Just...sit on my lap?” He pat his meaty thighs.

With a nod, you made yourself comfortable. He held you close to him and got you to lay with him. Daddy seemed tense.

“I just had a rough day, so we can just cuddle. Is that ok, or do I have to fuck you?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Daddy.”

He sighed with relief, “Good. Cuddling it is.”

Daddy rubbed your back and talked about his difficult and high stress day. Although he was a large and rough looking man who was 1000% Daddy, it was like he was the kitten. He was pretty sure he hurt his ankle while dancing on stage.

“You need to be more careful, Daddy.” You pouted.

“Is that so, Kitten?” He chuckled.

You nodded.

“Then I’ll be more careful.” Daddy kissed your forehead.

You smiled, “Good. Are you feeling better, Daddy?”

He nodded, “I am actually.” Then something caught his eye as he smiled at you. “Lift your neck, Kitten?”

You did and he felt your collar.

“Those boys...your owners. They take good care of you?”

“They do.” You said to the man who wasn’t actually an idol but had gained lots of popularity through social media.

“Good.” He purred. “If they ever hurt you, come to me, and I’ll deal with ‘em.”

You spoke honestly, “They never would. They love me. I love them.”

He smiled suddenly. It seemed to surprise himself as well, “They better.” Then he sat up. “Ok. I should go before I mess around and fall in love.”

The man stood up and fixed his shirt.

“Did you have a good time, Daddy?”

“The best, Kitten.” He kissed your cheek. “Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night and remember what I said.”

You grinned, “I will!” unsure if you actually would or not.

He closed the door behind him. Well, that was a nice time before it was three groups of 8+ members back to back. The girl group loved to use their nails and knew how to use toys you have never seen before. They also really liked kissing. So softly leaving trails of pink and red all over your body.

An extremely famous couple was the last to come in and had you play with the man while his wife masturbated and watched. She shouted commands to him, and he was all too happy to follow them. He had been taken out of chastity today and this was his reward. The freckles on his face made his eyes stand out more. He was dressed up like a puppy, collar and all. It was ok since they were both initiating it with you, right? The man had a bone shaped gag and beautiful whines.

It was almost hilarious the amount of times she told you to look at him instead of her. She ended up collaring you to him to make sure you obeyed. Then she slid in between both of your faces as you ate out both of her ends. He seemed like the type that liked to eat ass. They kissed your lips and left you to the officials to clean up.

Then it was time to go home. You hadn’t even done much today, but your body was tired. Your eyes opened and Jin walked in.

“How’s our girl?” He asked.

You began to run to him, but your legs gave out. Right you had legs.

Jungkook and Jin rushed to help you back onto the bed. They said you had gon in really deep and it’d take you twenty more minutes for you to have control over your body again. Right. This was your body. It didn’t belong to anyone else but you.

“No matter how many times we lay claim to you, it’s still your body.” Taehyung said, reading your expressions easily.

Namjoon added, “No one can take that away from you.”

You cried despite how happy you were. Had it really been scary at all? No. Not really. Just overwhelming. There were so many people you had made love to, but you couldn’t recall their faces or names. Someone hugged you.

“It’s ok, (Y/N).” Jimin cooed. “You did so well. We’re so proud of you.”

They all gave you space along with comforting words. Then you put on your dress and kept the collar on. It felt like a security blanket right now. Yoongi held your hand as the eight of you were ushered into a room to wait for you carts to pull up.

Heechul approached the group and you all bowed.

“You did such a wonderful job tonight!” He met your eyes. “All of you. His gaze met Namjoon’s.

He whispered something to BTS’s leader as Yoongi couldn’t hide his scowl. Did he not like Heechul? How can you not like Heechul? He’s annoying but also endearing.

“I hope there are no hard feelings. I always like to check in with the own...lovers afterwards and make sure I didn’t cross any boundaries with my performance.” He was being very honest.

What did he do? Did he parody BTS on stage?

Yoongi softened and held out his hand, “No hard feelings.”

The two men shook hands.

You snuggled your oppa’s arm. Heechul bowed to all of you and went on his way. He “accidentally” dropped something and asked his manager to pick it up. She leaned over and her pussy was glistening. So that was his pet? He grabbed the butt of another and a third leaned in close to him, giggling. A harem?

~~~~~~~

Now all eight of you were in the living room falling asleep after eating a filling takeout meal. Your pajamas were super cozy.

“(Y/N)?” Hobi whispered. “We love you. More than anything.”

“I love you too.” You replied, slightly confused but glad he said so.

He smirked, “We know. Even if you never said it again, we’d know.”

Jimin pulled you closer in his kitty lingerie that he had been wearing under his clothing all night. He must’ve been done with his dom mood. Namjoon made sure to cuddle the both of you on his chest. Jungkook was letting his leader sleep on his stomach while his head was on Jin’s. Tae’s hand was holding yours even while he slept. Yoongi was curled up behind Jimin. All your boys were there. You felt like your heart would explode from pure bliss.

As you fell asleep, you wondered why Hwasa’s smiling face popped up in your mind.

[lokilickedme]

Part 2 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - High Rise

By request

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own in 2016 (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book

Character:  Loki (narrator), Robert Laing, Richard Wilder

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, Loki Has Issues, Spoilers, Loki Does What He Wants, stick to the damn book Loki, lewd passages quoted from the book, references to bestiality and incest (thanks a lot for that, Ballard. You’re a dick)

Series:  Part 2 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Published: 2016-02-21   Words: 1220 (original version)

Part One: Loki Reads Chapter 9 of The Night Manager

  High Rise, Read by Loki Laufeyson 

by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki narrates another audiobook.  Apologies to JG Ballard, though not very sincere ones.  In fact I take it back, I’m mad that I ever had to read this.

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes 

  Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog... 

Well shit, lets just not waste any time at all getting to the good stuff, shall we?  When a book has the unmitigated balls to start off with a barbequed canine for the first course, you know you're in for an entertaining evening chock full of questionable culinary choices written in dirty grey prose, which we all know is just a gateway to every sort of perversion familiar to man and a handful or two heretofore known only to the Aesir - and I’ll tell you right now they get up to some kinky shit that’d make you want to tie your ballsack to a goat.  That’s not a metaphor, they’re known for literally tying their ballsacks to goats.  Okay, one of them is known for it.  Okay, I’m known for it.  It was me.  So once one has committed to snacking on the family pets, what comes after the appetizer, sex with a budgie?  What sort of sauce is the fellow using?  Did he sautee the dog or is that fucker deep fried?  Or am I missing a particularly rude innuendo here and he's actually giving the beast a blow job?  If that's the case then this might end up being a worthwhile read after all, and I can’t think of a much more romantic place than the balcony if you’re actually going to commit to pleasuring the wife’s poodle.

 ...Dr. Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.  Now that everything had returned to normal - 

Hold up.  NOW everything's returned to normal?  You're eating a fucking dog, sir, either that or you're fellating it.  In what twisted realm is either of those scenarios considered normal?  We’re not counting Asgard, by the way.  And I'd rather like to know which part of the beast we're talking about here, I mean if it's the drumstick or the tenderloin then I hope you basted it with some herbs and a bit of olive oil before you slapped it on the hibachi.  If you're committing cunnilingus, then I'm presuming you know which part you're dealing with and I'll leave you to it, though the olive oil could serve dual purpose here.  But it does beg the question - is the beast male or female?  Not making a judgement, just getting the visual.

While we're pondering that, I'm going to do us all a colossal favor and skip ahead a bit.  This book really is difficult, and by difficult I mean I've had torture sessions on asteroids that were less annoying.  The story itself is good, heaven knows I enjoy chaos and mayhem and bestiality as much as the next power mad despot, but word for word this tale reads a bit like Lewis Carroll and Roald Dahl having the slowest orgasm in history during a mutual masturbation session while smoking Edgar Allen Poe’s gym shorts.  I actually think I might be having the slowest orgasm in history.

 'Come whenever you want to.'  Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying her in case she lost her balance.  In the past he had always felt physically distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother, but for reasons not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.  He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast.  As if aware of this, she leaned passively against him. 

And there it is my friends.  All good stories need an element of the forbidden, and it looks like sister-diddling wins the perversion jackpot for this evening.  This Laing fellow has the whoo hoos for big sis.  And you people give me shit over my "alleged" deviant relationship with my brother?  Last I recall adopted siblings were free to black hole it all they want, yet here we have a pair working out a tag-up without the benefit of notarized adoption papers.  Since we seem to be condoning this, lets all remember our hypocrisy the next time I'm catching grief for banging Thor, shall we?  And while we're at it, are we all just ignoring the Oedipus train wreck this man just owned up to driving straight into the wall?  'Big sis you look like mummy, here let me drug you and keep you as a sex slave while this whole place goes to hell around us.'  I may or may not be skipping ahead but I'll save you a little time and drudgery - it goes there, people.

 He pulled the drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into the bath. 

Ah, Wilder.  I do love a good silly mustache-twirling villain with self aggrandizing dreams of conquering worlds several floors above his own social status.  Because in the end we all want more than what we’ve got, don’t we?  Thrones, love, respect, use of the penthouse, a herd of stoned females.  At least he didn't piss on the mattress.  Nobody likes a bedwetter, even in hell.

 His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia, glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom.  He was about to break the glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the darkness. 

Yes my good man, welcome to the fellowship of the knob, our universal handshake is to sit on the sofa with one hand down the front of our pants.  Our penises calm us all.

 He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow. 

Huh.  Just when I rather think I like this Wilder fellow and his obvious off kilter mental status, he shows us his wiener.  Which was more than enough in itself, thanks so very much for that.  Elegant move there, dipshit - whip it out and slap a bow on it, for times when you really want to class things up.  I for one can't think of anything more entertaining or intellectually fulfilling on a Friday night than tying a pretty ribbon on my schlong and running about with it hanging out of my trousers while I harass and terrorize feral women in derelict apartment buildings.  Sometimes I like to really mix things up by borrowing a pair of mother's clip-on earrings and dangling them from my testicles.  It makes me feel so fucking manly.  You know, for those times when you really want to bang your sister who looks like your mom and you know you stand a better chance of scoring if you really put in some effort with the self decor.  Or you could go all out impressing the masses by tying your ballsack to a goat, but granted, it’s not for everyone.

 This ultimate role had helped him on one occasion, when a marauding band of women led by Mrs Wilder had entered the apartment.  Seeing Laing being abused, and assuming him to be Eleanor's and Alice's prisoner, they had left.  On the other hand, perhaps they understood all too well what was really taking place. 

Yes, what was really taking place was this fellow Laing got himself a couple of kinky babes who were willing to tie him to a chair and beat him with the hind leg of an Alsatian.  I mean, who doesn't get off on that?  I tip my cap to you, Sir.  Never go fifty shades with one woman when you can go full-on Marquis de Sade with two.  And seeing as this merry band of female visigoths was led by that Wilder chap's wife, one can only assume he pilfered her pretty hair bows one time too many and the poor woman felt compelled to start tucking the ginsu’s into her gingham apron and go on raiding parties with her Wednesday night book club group.  Or perhaps it was the 'heavy genitalia' on display out of the front of his pants that drove her over the edge.  I understand leaving one's trousers open while traversing rapidly declining self-contained bastions of reverse civilization is valid grounds for divorce in some states.

 First she would try to kill him, but failing that give him food and her body, breast-feed him back to a state of childishness and even, perhaps feel affection for him.  Then, the moment he was asleep, cut his throat.  The synopsis of the ideal marriage. 

What - all marriages aren't like that? 

I’m going to stop right here so we can all go take a break, order in some Alsation, chase our sisters and next door neighbors around the room with gardening implements and figure out where we hid our morphine stash - which sounds disconcertingly like a typical Saturday evening in Valhalla to me, quite honestly - and summarize the rest of the book, which goes a little something like this:  Madness, mayhem, perversion, murder, violence, death, and why the fuck don’t these people just walk out of the damn building?  Yes I know, it’s an allegory on class warfare and societal prejudices and the shitty tendency humanity has to turn on each other and finally itself when faced with a breakdown in the decency and polite behavior that tentatively holds people at arm’s length until the shit hits the fan and everyone starts coming at each other with golf clubs.  Humans have a disturbing desire to go all Lord of The Flies the moment order breaks down, and this book casts a bloodshot eye on the fucked up results.  I’m telling you though, it’s nothing a good tug’o war match with a goat couldn’t have fixed.

All in all I would say this book is a challenging read, but worth it in the end if for nothing other than the visual of that guy with the bow on his schnitzel.  Best read while mainlining household cleaners directly into your lungs blindfolded and waterboarding yourself while listening to Raul Julia sing the Ave Maria on 45 rpms.  Trust me, you'll understand once you get to the part where the old ladies in cocktail gowns are brawling over use of the elevator. 

 End Notes 

Passages in italics are the property of J.G. Ballard from the novel HIGH RISE, copyright 1975.  I don’t own them, I didn’t write them, and dear god please don’t ask me about the dog.

[oh-styles]

Such Beautiful Things: I

Yes, I know, I am just as shocked as you are. 

It’s a bit shorter than what I would have hoped, but just stop complaining and enjoy what I give you. 

Indirect mention of cancer, anxiety and depression.

July 4th, 2016 London, UK

“Harry, for fucks sake…”

At first glance, all you can make out through the harsh glare of the sun peeking through his curtains is the silhouette of a bare bottom a mere few inches from your face, and the faint but budding marks etched across the skin that match your very own fingertips. You first feel the bed shift, and the hustled patters of his feet scampering across the floor with no sense of direction.

“Hey, babe,” his voice is lazy and drawn out, a clear indication to you he’s not been up any longer than you. “Do you have any idea where you threw my pants last night?” You can see him from the corner of your eye, standing stark naked in the middle of his bedroom with a look of complete bewilderment and cowlick standing erect in the middle of his head. “Got quite the arm.”

“Why do you assume it was me?” There’s nothing more you want right now than for this stupid boy to forget his trousers and go back to bed. You’re quite aware of his schedule, and he has no plans till the afternoon where he’d be joining his sister and her friends for lunch, so there is no rhyme or reason why he needs to be up at the crack of dawn for whatever fucking reason he’s mustered up in his mind.

“Well, I wasn’t the one trying to take them off in a hurry.” You can literally hear the smirk in his voice. “Quite impressive, if I can say. Never seen you work that fast before—”

“Please, for the love of God…just shut up.”

So fucking peppy in the morning.

There’s a silence in return, and you hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d decided to spare you the extremely vigorous morning glory that he somehow manages to be without his coffee, and even you can barely hold a conversation with someone before noon.

“Babe?”

“It’s your fucking house, you ballsack—go to your closet and get a new fucking pair if you’re—”

“Babe, I think you’re lying on them.” There’s a gentle poke to your exposed shoulder, and then a second, and by the third you’re flinging the blanket dramatically off your body, and for the second time this morning, you open your eyes to see him standing in front of you, and his soft penis only some mere inches from your face.

“You know I love nothing more than having your flaccid dick in my face first thing in the morning.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me at half seven.”

The man before you, the same man whose balls you had in your mouth only some hours ago, lifts his hands beneath your waist, gently picking you up before snatching his underwear, and plopping you back down on the sheets. There have been worse ways he has woken you up from before the sun has fully graced the horizon, like a beastly snore in the ear or an obnoxious fart, so you know you’re better off with the cards you’ve been given today.

“It’s time to wake up, buttercup – seize the day, and all that.”

“If you say one more word, I am going to seize your face in my fucking pillow—”

It’s a low, breathless chuckle and a grumble of something along the lines of, “Moody li’le thing in the morning,” but you’re caught off guard when a lump of naked flesh falls dramatically down onto the bed, stirring you beneath the sheets. “Gonna wake up for me, love? Gonna stop being a grumpy gills and open your eyes?” He has this way about him, a perfect mixture of just the right amount of compassion and a complete and utter nuisance, that when stirred together just right, is all the fortitude you need to not up and leave him in his bed before his morningwood begins to dig into your thigh. Sometimes you can overlook his obnoxiously jovial early morning glee fest, and it makes days like this that much more tolerable.

“Just another hour, please.” He might be having a nice, joyous afternoon spent with his sister, but your agenda had been worked around specifically for the events that laid ahead.

Events that might have already gone over his head.

“Harry, seriously—”

“Don’t want’ya taking the train—don’t know why you even want to anyway—”

“It’s the only place where I can just sit and think, okay?” You can feel his breath – very much morning breath -  hit the back of your ear, and you can almost see the grimace aching behind his eyes, because despite the conversation the two of you shared the night before, you were quick to dodge his attention by a simple rummage around his bedside table for a condom.

You might’ve distracted him last night, but you have his full, devoted attention now.

“You gonna try and stop me, hm? Smuggle me into your gym bag and take me to lunch with Gem and her gal pals?”

“If I have to, yeah.” He’s lying, and you know it; he might be able to place his opinion on somethings, but he has no right to prevent you from your actions…but all he asked from you was to bring some form of protection. “How about you get your pretty, little bum dressed, and I will make us breakf—”

“Eggs on toast?”

You see the small crinkle grace his cheek, and just like that any trace of early morning irritation had all but begun to fade away.

“Eggs on toast…and some apple slices and OJ.”  You feel his hands fall under the covers and begin to gently pull away from your very much still warm and comforted body. At the most he could at least have brought you a t-shirt to slip into.

“But I don’t like football” And just like that, he got you back.

*

It’s amazing what a pair of sunglasses and a face clean of makeup can do.

It’s really not that often you find yourself out in the public eye without much as a curious glance your way, but today, you’re feeling hopeful. You sit in the corner of the train with an iced coffee in one hand, and a random book you snatched from Harry’s bookshelf in the other; you believe if the content doesn’t grab your attention, at least no one might pay you a nosy glimpse.

You listen in to conversations as they come go, and a part of you begins to envy a piece of every stranger who you’ve not given more than a subtle, quick glance to. Every person sharing this car with you have been unknowingly blessed with normalcy; they don’t have to hide themselves in public to avoid unwanted attention. You envy your past self for taking such times for granted, and you begin to panic that maybe your shit disguise is only bringing more attention to yourself.

“Why is she wearing sunglasses—we’re underground?”

“Could she have that book any closer to her face?”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so close to her face if she didn’t have those sodding sunglasses on.”

A part of you rolls your eyes at your own remark. You signed up for this, dumbass.

You hear nothing of the sort, but it doesn’t stop that part of you being self-conscious and weary of the possible inquiries. Maybe you should have let Harry drive you—why do you always deny anytime he tries to do something nice and out of his way for you? You’re so selfish.

You think back on breakfast, and how he kissed your cheek before you left, sneaking in a granola bar into your purse in case you got hungry on your ride back, and you feel your heart swell.

“Text me when you get there, okay? You know I worry about yeh.”

Maybe you should stop giving him reasons to worry about you.

I could walk around with a bodyguard strapped to my chest and he would still worry about me.

Then maybe you should invest in that bodyguard for when you travel by yourself in a place where you could easily get spotted?—

SHUT UP.

You sit back, pulling out your headphones from your purse—of course they’re tangled—and you let the passersby quickly fade out into the mellow strumming’s of Landslide. Your mom loves this song, and you quickly swallow away a knot in your throat when you remind yourself that will soon be past tense.

*

“Fourth of July shirt?” Gemma inquires, smirking through the camera lens of her phone as her brother, with a tightly knit perplexity to his brows, glances down at his shirt.

“What do you me—” Oh.

“Feeling festive for your half-American girlfriend or summat?”

“Summat like that.” Harry admires the stars that adorn his top, and flicks his eyes back up to his sister with a glint in his eyes. What had actually happened, was the top he was supposed to wear today, you had snubbed from his closet the day before, so once you left for the train station earlier that morning, Harry had snatched the first thing he could find from his wardrobe before running out the door. “She said she’ll be back for drinks tonight. Went to see her mum for the afternoon.”

Gemma knows, but she doesn’t pry. A part of her understands all too well these days, so she just lightly nods her head and leans over to grab a slice of pizza.

“Well, she’s always welcome, obviously. I know mum misses her… You two should try and come out for the weekend if you can.”

“Maybe, yeah. Been filming a lot so it’s tough… And she’s doing a lot of festivals this summer. Leeds and Reading here soon.” He shrugs his shoulders with a small pout. “Maybe next weekend. We can take the train up in the morning—that’s if she will even go on a train again after today.”

“Was it bad?” There was an unexplainable tone to her voice that knows the answer well before her brother dares to even say it.

He hums. “Texted me she thought everyone was staring at her.”

“Well, wouldn’t surprise me any! Put that girl on a train and she’s surprised people were staring at her?”

“I asked her if she wanted me to drive up and get her, but she said it was okay—didn’t want to come in between our time today.”

“You know I wouldn’t mind—”

“That’s what I told her, but she persisted. Like she always does. Always persisting.” He takes a quick swig of his drink and runs a hand through his newly chopped hair. “She said she’d call if she changed her mind, but I doubt she will. Just said it to get off the phone.”

“Don’t take it to heart. It’s hard, you know?”

He shares a knowing glance with his sister and gives her a stern nod. Losing someone you loved was hard, but losing a parent surpassed that, and Harry and Gemma were closer everyday to understanding.

It was an hour later when Harry excused himself from the table, and made a quick dart for the door that Gemma caught a quick flash in her brothers eyes that made her stomach sink. For the duration of their lunch, she forced her smiles and faked her laughs, clinging tight to her phone until she felt the buzz that sunk her heart deeper in her chest.

It’s stage 4.

Harry returned some time later, carefully scooting back into his chair and, despite the ache in his gut, he smiled widely at his companions, but Gemma couldn’t look passed the daunting, pained expression forcing to sit and subside in her brother’s eyes. The same expression that screamed that he was in just as much pain as you were in right now.

“Think she is going to stay with her tonight – catch the train tomorrow morning.” He forced a smile in Gemma’s direction, and reached back out to grab his pint. “Might call it an early night for myself.”

*

When you were smaller, and a scrape to the knee sent you to the floor in tears, there was one woman, who with a single kiss, could take every last bit of pain away. Now, not a single thing in the world could make this better. The pain resonated deep, pulling and tugging at every nerve, and every scratch and stretch and swig only made that little bit of pain rush deeper and deeper until there were mornings every inch of your body pulsed and radiated with such anguish and torment, that not even the sun shining or the birds singing or the small of fresh brewed coffee could pull you from bed.

The pain was different now, but it all felt the same in your skin.

You try to remember every detail now, like how her eyes change colors with the seasons, and how she loves the smell of fresh mown grass, and how she can sit outside for hours on a sunny day with a book and a glass of iced tea, and all would be content in her world. You remember how it feels to hold her hand, and how she falls asleep beside you as you hum along to the Jewel discography playing over her stereo. You remember how she cries when she listens to you sing, her eyes welled up with so much love you feel it’s impossible to feel such a thing.

You remember how warm she feels, and the smell of her perfume, and how she kisses your cheek four times before finally letting go.

You remember how she reminds you to text her when you get back home, just like Harry does. You remember how she watches you walk down the driveway and out of sight from her place in the window, and with every step you take you pray to God that isn’t the last time you see her alive.

But you remember to tell her you love her, and you feel the knot in your throat stumble over your words, because God forbid this be the last time she ever hears you say it.

You pray to God that if you ever bear a child, they never have to succumb to such pain.

*

Later that day, after you stumbled back up the stairs of your shared home and found yourself crawling back into your sheets, it’s Harry who gently wakes you to share you the current events filtering through every news article.

You didn’t bother with your sunglasses, and that was your first mistake, but such subtle details like that didn’t fall through your mind as you go on your train home that morning. You sat in your corner, book in hand, but stared blankly at the pages as you reminded yourself, again and again, that your time was running up. There was this internal clock ticking, counting down to the day, and whenever that was, the world would stop, all would halt, and you would lose the very last person that you had.

You glance up at Harry, but he tilts his phone closer to your view, and that’s when you see it.

You aren’t surprised, but the shot still makes you sick.

There you are sat, hunched over in your seat, with the palms of your hands placed overtop your face as you weep heavy heaves into the sleeves of your jacket. The snapshot reminds you of the photo that went viral of the bride on the tube in the exact same position as you are, and you nearly stop yourself from laughing.

“It’s because I forgot my sunglasses,” you croak, barely reading over the text that the uploader added. “Did you really wake me up to show me this?”

He stares back down at the image, studying your stance, and without saying another word, locks his phone.

You keep quiet over the topic; it all exhausts you, and as much as Harry wants to protect you and hold your hand through this, he is quietly going through the exact same thing, and you don’t want to add gas to the fire.

But your silence is nothing but a headache to him.

He goes to stand back up, brushing a hand through his hair, and casually walks around to the other end of the bed where he plops himself down beside you, and sidles closer to scoot you nearer.

“Harry, I’m fine, you don’t ha—”

“Shh, will you? Just want to love on you some.” You could lie all you want, and he would let you, but he isn’t going to waste a second of his life ever believing it. “I made some lunch if you’re hungry. I’ll bring you up something if you want to chill here today. That’s okay.”

He placed a soft kiss behind your ear and nuzzled up to your neck, and it’s just like that you remind yourself to remember this love, because some heavy, disastrous storms were approaching, and this was the love that was going to stick with you until the rainbow comes.

[intim3ate]

Kinktober Day 2 - Underwear | Dave/John [Homestuck]

Dave Strider visits John Egbert. John Egbert answers the door in his underwear. Dave Strider makes a bad decision. But that bad decision may actually turn out to be the best decision of his life.

Second Kinktober fic. I... just really like DaveJohn and I guess that never stopped being a thing. It is kinda wild that I’m writing Homestuck in 2019, though.

Writing Dave was really fun. I super got into his rambling. 

Fair warning: this was based on a joke I came up with for myself. Dave time travelling to jack off and not get caught? Um, yes pls.

Not a commission, but I’m doing kinktober commissions all month! Info can be found here. Please check it out!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Patreon | Leave a Tip?

------

Sometimes John forgets that Dave isn't straight.

Even after that long, excruciatingly bad talk they’d had years ago, and all the excruciatingly awkward talks and reminders since, John still hasn’t quite gotten a grasp on his best friend’s sexuality. He still tends to think in terms of gay-straight-nothing-in-between, which… isn't exactly ideal most of the time.

Except sometimes it totally is.

Sometimes, John forgetting that Dave is not-a-heterosexual is the greatest blessing a man could ever be cursed with. It means that, on occasion, John would do things without thinking, like change a shirt he spilled his drink all over right in front of Dave, or put an arm around his best friend when he’s really excited about something, or grab his hand to show him something cool, or not care about sharing a bed when they end up having an impromptu sleepover. It’s great because it means Dave can enjoy John going all stupid sexy Egbert on him and perv on his best friend and John won’t even realize. On that front, at least, life is good. Sometimes.

Other times, it’s incredibly inconvenient. Like right now, for instance.

Dave stands outside John's house, hands in his pockets as he waits for the door to swing open and John to smile at him with that adorable buck-toothed grin of his. He hears motion from inside the house, which means John is around and didn’t forget about their hangout plans, but as usual it seems like the goof spent his time dicking around with fake arms and magic chests and shit instead of getting ready.  

"Just a minute!" John calls from inside. Dave hears the pounding of feet rushing down the stairs, and then suddenly the telltale click of the doorknob turning..

The door swings open. Dave’s mouth goes dry.

"Hey! Sorry about that,” John says, the smile Dave had so looking forward to seeing going completely unseen due to his eyes being drawn… elsewhere. “I'll just be a sec. Come on in though, make yourself at home!"

Dave doesn't trust his voice not to crack, so he doesn't say anything; he just nods, cool as a cucumber, cool as a corpse six feet under arctic ice, cool as a penguin's ballsack. Wait, do penguins even have those?

Who fucking cares about penguins , Dave thinks to himself as he watches John Egbert run up the stairs completely naked but for the silky pair of hip-snuggling, ass-framing, rump-hugging pair of boxer-briefs he has on.

Fuck.

Dave looks helplessly up the stairs after John, trying in vain to get the image of his best friend's perfect ass (framed by what is quite possibly the sexiest pair of men's underwear Dave has ever seen) out of his mind. Since when does John go for the fancy stuff? Where are his stupidly dorky and distinctly unsexy goofball slime boxers? Have his hot mom's luxurious lifestyle choices finally rubbed off on him?

Oh, god. Did she pick those out for him?

Dave bites down on the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to draw blood in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the mental image of John and Jane trying on underwear together. Jane twirls her finger to tell John to turn around, and he does, and she makes a comment about how they match the bra and panties she has on and no, no, no, bad, do not think about your best friend and his foxy as hell mother half-naked together--

He can't stop it. Sure, he can shut the thought down, but the damage is already done. He's uncomfortably aroused, dick already half-hard and starting to pitch a tent in his jeans. The timing couldn’t be worse; he can still hear John upstairs, moving around, and fuck Dave no stop thinking about his ass swaying in those stupid gorgeous unreasonably sexy boxers--

He's just beginning to debate his options (get the fuck out of here or get the fuck out of here ) when a noise catches his attention. From somewhere next to him a door clicks open; Dave turns to see who else could possibly be in John's house right now, and...

"Oh hell no," he says, the moment he comes face-to-face with himself. " Fuck no. No way. Fuck this, this isn’t happening, I’m not--"

"Sorry man," Other-Dave says. "You know how it is."

No, he doesn’t. “No, I don’t,” Dave insists, but the denial only lasts about half a second. Deep down he really does know exactly how it is. “We swore off time travel for good, remember? When was the last time we even -- or I even, I guess, since obviously you just did it so you could hide in there and, what, jerk off to my -- our --  best friend’s completely delectable ass?” He cuts himself off, catches himself. “No, wait, I mean--”

“God I really did say that then, huh. Rose is right; just can’t stop with these freudian slips, can I, it’s like a freshly-waxed floor all up in here but nobody put out the sign--”

“Just forget about me saying that, okay, because neither of us needs to keep thinking about John’s sexy, I mean, uh, not sexy -- his really really un- sexy ass--”

“Agreed, or it’s gonna be bonertown all over again--”

Dave stops monologuing and stares at his future self like he’d stepped in a particularly gross-looking pile of ecto-slime. “Fuck, dude. I don’t know how either one of us ever could have thought, or will think, the term ‘bonertown’ is cool.”

Future-Dave shrugs. “Hey man, I’m just repeating what I heard myself say an hour ago, cut me some slack.”

“Okay yeah, fair, but my point still stands: after today we’re officially retiring the whole time travel thing, and for real this time, and also the word ‘bonertown’ is officially out of both our vocabulary.”

“Sweet, glad we got that one all figured out.”

“Right.” Dave offers himself a fist-bump and future-him takes him up on it. Their knuckles only just brush when they hear the door open upstairs and the quick, haphazard footsteps of John Egbert on the landing heading for the stairs. “Sorry about that Dave, I’m all good now!” “Shit.” Future-Dave grabs Present-Dave by the shoulders and attempts to shove him into the study. “Don’t let him see you! And, uh…” He glances over his shoulder at John coming down the stairs, and Present-Dave temporarily stops struggling to follow his gaze.

Damn . He swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry again at the sight of John tugging his shirt on over his head as he comes down the stairs. Is that a goddamn treasure trail ?

“Have fun,” Future-Dave says, and with one last shove, Present-Dave tumbles into the bathroom and lands flat on his ass. The door clicks shut in front of him.

Dave rubs his injured rump indignantly, and for a second considers getting up and opening the door, but he stops himself when John begins to speak. “Didn’t mean to make you wait,” he says, voice muffled through the door. “I wasn’t expecting you to get here so early. Guess I just took a little too long in the shower…”

“Ffffffuck,” Dave whispers to himself. He leans against the door and lets the back of his head thump against it, eyes slipping shut as he attempts to take stock of whatever the hell just happened. He can’t, though, because that last little TMI-tidbit forces images of John in the shower jump to his mind totally unbidden.

What could have been taking him so long in the shower? Was he just taking his time washing his hair? Was he shaving? Singing? Or was he just really careful to make sure he washed himself everywhere ?  

Dave bites his lip. He considers fighting himself for a second, fighting the thoughts of John lathering up under the water and getting himself nice and soapy just for the suds to slough off his skin and wash away down the drain, but he figures that there’s no point. He’s already here, might as well make use of the time he’s apparently bought himself.

So Dave gives in. He breathes in deeply and lets himself imagine John washing himself, lifting his stupidly toned arms to scrub under them, lowering them and crisscrossing them over his chest to lather them up. He imagines John bending over to scrub his legs, lifting one to make sure he gets the soles of his feet.

Dave imagines he’s watching John do all this from behind so that this way he can get a front-row seat to the beautiful spectacle of John’s perfect ass, but then he changes angles again when John straightens up a bit. Now he watches from the side -- no, the front -- no, three-quarter view -- as John reaches between his legs and lifts his dick to...

No, okay, that’s enough of that, the washcloth is gone and John is just straight-up touching himself. He wraps his hands around the base of his dick with both hands and slowly tugs upward, starting off nice and slow so Dave can get a good look. He bites his lip with his big dumb adorable buck teeth and moves his hands faster, unwilling to be patient with himself when nobody’s around to see him. Well, Dave is around to see him, but in this fantasy, John thinks he’s alone. It feels more natural that way.

Dave doesn’t stop to linger on the thought of how natural it would be for him to be peeping on John’s alone time, but again, it’s his fantasy, so whatever he says goes.

John leans against the shower wall and his breathing comes out heavy. He keeps jerking himself off, faster now, the water easing the slide of his hand (one hand now; the other one is at his neck, squeezing it and massaging it gently because Dave knows that the Heir of Breath has a deliciously ironic asphyxiation fetish). It moves up and down over his dick rapidly; he thumbs at the head on every upstroke, and damn if the way he sighs at that isn’t the hottest thing Dave’s ever not-heard.

John’s probably getting close now. No, Dave decides. He definitely is.

Dave shimmies out of his jeans and swallows a groan at the relief of his dick finally having room to breathe. He cups it in one hand and begins to rub it a little, massage it just like John was in his fantasy, just to get it used to -- oh, no, that feels really good actually, to hell with easing into it. He slips his hand into his boxers and goes right for the head, squeezing it and running his thumb over it, again just like John.

“Yeah,” Dave breathes, imagining it’s John whispering instead. Fantasy-John bites down even harder on his lip to try and muffle his cry when he comes -- no, fuck that, he opens his mouth wide and tosses his head back and groans the sexiest strangled groan Dave can imagine. John comes in his hand, but he keeps on stroking even after he’s done, and Dave wonders if he’s going to go for a second orgasm, but he decides that’s a bit too much for now and skips ahead to the next part.

John is in his bedroom now, clad in nothing but a towel and his glasses. He’s still damp from the shower, hair dripping a little bit as he walks over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. No, fuck the towel; John drops it and stands there completely naked, once again allowing Dave another look at his perfect ass.

“Nice,” Dave mumbles under his breath. He jerks himself a little faster.

Meanwhile, John rummages through his dresser. He’s got a concentrated look on his face, which Dave will freely admit to himself is probably pointless in this scenario, but he really likes the way John’s nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow when he’s focused on something, so it stays. John is a man on a mission, and he will not stop until he’s found what he’s looking for.

A-ha! John says as he pulls out the same pair of gorgeous silk blue boxer-briefs Dave had seen him wearing earlier.

He grins to himself and squeezes a little harder. Now they’re getting to the good stuff.

Dave sucks in a shallow breath through his nose as he watches the John in his imagination put the underwear on. Just like before, it hugs his ass, accentuates the curve of it in all the right ways. And when he turns around, oh . That is a nice little bulge John’s got going on in the front there.

Dave licks his lips. Yeah, he’s pretty sure that’s what he wants now. He pictures himself opening the door to John’s room and entering it, eyes locked on John’s behind his shades.

Dave? John asks. What are you doing here?

I think you know, Dave answers, and it’s so fucking cheesy, but nobody’s here to critique his dialogue, no matter how much he knows Rose would want to and oh god no he stops that train of thought before it can even leave the station.

You were taking too long to get ready, so I thought I’d see what was holding you up , Dave says instead, and yeah, that’s better. He walks forward to meet John and reaches out to touch his hips, sliding his hands over them. He makes no move to hide how openly he’s staring at John’s dick. In fact, he makes it even more obvious: Dave licks his lips, both in his fantasy and in real life.

Right, I forgot how impatient you could be. John’s gaze turns sly; his voice lowers an octave. Well? Are you satisfied, then?

Not even close. Dave leans in and presses his lips to John’s, and John kisses him back hungrily, wrapping his arms around Dave’s shoulders and tangling them in his hair. He pulls his friend close, so close Dave doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to escape. Which is fine; he doesn’t think he wants to.

When John pulls away, his tongue still hangs halfway out of his mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting it to Dave’s. He smirks, eyes half-lidded, and in the real world Dave almost chokes. He claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise and jerks himself off faster. Fuck, he could probably get off to that look alone.

But that’s not what he wants. He wants more. Wants it all.

“Fuck me, John Egbert,” Dave says, both aloud and in his dream.

And John does.

John yanks Dave to him by the collar, fisting his fingers in it and pulling hard. He crashes their lips together and pulls Dave down on top of him to straddle his lap, and Dave goes readily, grinding himself down on John’s--

He pauses. Opens his eyes. Thinks for a second and comes to a decision. This isn’t going to feel nearly as good if he doesn’t go all the way, he figures, so Dave shimmies out of his boxers and sits on the floor of the study completely naked from the waist down.

Welp.

He glances at the desk a moment, wondering if he should raid the drawers for lube, but figures there's almost a zero percent chance of there being any and he doesn't want to distract himself from his fantasy for too long anyway, so he pops two fingers into his mouth and sucks on them, imagining instead that they're John's fingers. In his imagination, John leans back on the bed as Dave sucks, pushing his fingers in deeper and deeper, but never forcing them too far. John is considerate, but even his patience has its limits.

Dave pulls his fingers out of his mouth and reaches underneath himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes one finger inside himself, then the other, surprised at how easily they go in despite the poor choice of lubricant. Dave doesn't want to think about how or why he’s so loose already or what that says about him, so he doesn't.

He returns to his fantasy. Now he's sitting on John's lap, impaled on his best friend’s thick, wet cock. John is still wearing the underwear, but he's slid it down enough he could pull his dick free over the waistband. It can't be comfortable, but it's so, so damn hot. That's John, though: always willing to go the extra mile for a friend.

Is this what you want, Dave? John asks, and Dave nods frantically, a whispered litany of "yes, yes, yes " spilling from his lips as he thrusts his fingers into himself and jacks off faster and harder than he had been before. The John in his daydream laughs.

I don't think it is! he says. I think you want more than that.

"Fuck, Egbert, you're balls deep inside my ass and plowing me like your own personal sex farm, what more could I possibly want?"

John grins and lifts Dave up, grabbing him beneath his thighs and hefting him into the air. He lifts and drops Dave on his cock a few more times for good measure, and Dave clings to him like a lifeline. John giggles -- fucking giggles -- and turns around to throw Dave on the bed. Somehow, he never fully slips out, and Dave is both impressed and on the verge of desperate horny tears at the thought.

Once they're in a more comfortable position, John leans over Dave and brackets him with an arm on each side of his head. Dave looks up at him and is met with what is perhaps the sexiest expression he's ever seen: John, looking like he's half a breath away from losing himself completely, eyes narrow and sweat dripping from his temples, a sultry grin spreading over his lips as he says, Is that better, Dave?

"Fuuuuck yes," Dave hisses. He bucks his hips forward into his hands, thrashes back against his fingers. He's so goddamn close.

Good boy , John says. A shiver and a whimper simultaneously tear through Dave as he realizes that he did not realize how badly he wanted to hear John call him a good boy. His good boy.

Dave takes in deep, ragged breaths through his nose as he imagines John leaning down to kiss him. It's messy -- John would be a sloppy as fuck kisser, Dave just knows it -- but that just makes it better, because it means that when John pulls away Dave can lick his lips and still taste him lingering there.

He can’t stop himself: he moans. “Fuck, John …”

"Huh?"

Dave’s eyes fly open. His hand moves from his dick to his mouth in record time to stop himself making any more noise, because that was John Egbert’s real, actual voice . All the white noise from the other room pauses; Dave hadn't even realized he could hear music playing from the living room until now. “What was that?”

Dave stays silent, waiting. Waiting...

He hears himself answer John through the wall. “Nothing, it's just, uh, y’know…”

He doesn’t hear the no doubt weak-ass excuse his future self gives to cover up for this atrocious blunder, because Dave’s brain is suddenly filled with the full realization that John is, in fact, only one room away from him, which means that if he isn't careful, he could get caught. John could hear him jacking off in the study and come looking for him.

The risk, the daring, the audacity of it all hits Dave like a ton of bricks and, buoyed by the thrill of trying not to get caught, he  goes back to jacking himself off. He doesn't bother with that fantasy anymorel he just thinks about John walking in on him from the other room, seeing him with a hand on his dick and two fingers up his ass, and saying You know, if that's what you wanted, you could have just asked...

Dave bites down on his tongue to stop himself crying out as he comes. He doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life -- not alone, anyway -- and it screams through his body like a banshee, deafening him and whiting out his vision until there's no longer anything left of himself to release.

It takes a while for him to catch his breath, to come back down from his high, but when he does, Dave takes quick stock of himself: he's a mess, sweaty and sticky with cum, his hair all ruffled at the back and his shirt riding up his chest. He doesn't even care, though, because he's just had the best goddamn sex fantasy and solo orgasm of his life, and it was with the target of said fantasy sitting in the next room over, none the wiser.

Yeah. He's going to be jacking it to this memory for a long-ass time.

He tucks that thought away for later and pulls up his sylladex to fetch a clean towel. Dave tidies himself up, recaptchalogues the towel, and pulls out his trusty timetables.

"Didn't think I'd ever be using these again," he mumbles to himself. Then, with a knowing smirk, he spins them and jumps back in time, back to the moment his past self knocks on the door.

"Fuckin' worth it."

[kuresoto]

@lariren-shadow @extrakyloren why am i not surprised you both asked the same thing. also throwing in the prompt @wonderfulandfanciful asked for :)

12. “You’re an idiot. I’m an idiot. We’re the co-presidents of the Idiot Club.” 15. “Fuck you.” “Well, if you insist.”

Their relationship wasn’t conventional. He knew that, but he couldn’t find it in him to give a flying fuck. It didn’t stick to normal social standards and frankly, society could shove it. At least, that was how he thought years ago when he was still in denial.

Now it was just painful to have her so close, within his reach, and yet so far at the same time.

He wasn’t always so maudlin. In fact, it was only a recent development, and sometimes he wished he could go back to that simple life of being blissfully unaware that he was in love with his best friend. But alas, he couldn’t and so he found himself clenching and unclenching his fists as he stood outside her apartment, trying his best not to hyperventilate at the thought of her smile alone.

They had known each other for ten years, first meeting when he was in college and she fresh out of high school. Sure, their friendship made a lot of people turn heads and understandably enough. After all, what eighteen year old hangs around a twenty-seven year old? Everyone assumed they were sleeping together, and that itself was the source of many jokes between them. Back then, it was hilarious to even think they would hook up, ironically enough.

Ben sighed and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He couldn’t remain standing outside her apartment all night, her neighbors would start to talk and then he would definitely get found out. It wasn’t not normal for anyone to loiter outside someone's apartment and with their history, he would normally barge in without even knocking.

He used to be so comfortable around her, not reacting one bit if she lounged over him in her oversized shirt and panties, or if he caught a glimpse of her breasts when she got changed, her bedroom door ajar because that was how they were. And he had done the same with her around in his own apartment. Heaven’s knew how many times she joked about his dick, never seen it herself but she knew enough from the numerous times he had to peel his dick from his sweaty ballsack on a balmy Summer’s day. Or whenever he would gasp in pain when his pubes got caught on his foreskin, Rey snickering at his misery.

How the fuck did he get through all those times without even once considering her more than a friend?

Oh, right. It was because they were both going through some fucked up shit and valued their friendship too much to ruin it with sex.

“But sex makes everything better!” His workmate, Hux, had said one time, right before he shoved the ginger man aside to get him to shut up. Hux was an idiot, and the last person to take relationship advice from, but somewhere along the line, Ben noticed that something had changed.

They both had been in relationships before, neither really minding whoever the other was dating at the time, but now, the thought of Rey with someone else just made his stomach churn. And the amusing thing was that a lot of their respective relationships had ended because their boyfriend/girlfriend always got jealous of how close they were. ‘It wasn’t right’, they would comment, or ‘you’ll never love me like you do Rey/Ben’. The last comment was correct though. They had exchanged I love you’s in the past before, like when he surprised her with breakfast to celebrate the anniversary of her getting out of the Foster Care System, or when she changed his motorcycle tyre when someone asshole slashed them. ‘I love you’ was so innocuous back then. Now, it felt wrong to even think it, like he was lying to her or betraying her trust in some way.

Both knew how important the other was, it was the closest thing they had to family, and he wasn’t going to ruin it just because he would wake up more often than not with her name on his lips. And he refused to think of the times he would jerk off to the voicemails she left him, her accented voice calling him a dumbass and reminding him not to leave his keys at home. (Thankfully, that time was before his revelation, and thus had no problem crashing at Rey’s place, in her bed with her sprawled over his naked chest. Because that was a thing they were okay with. The thought of doing that now made his pants uncomfortably tight.)

Besides, he was almost sure Rey wouldn’t want to have sex with him. Ninety-nine percent sure, mainly because of that one time she agreed with an article that said guys who were more well-endowed were poorer at sexual intercourse. It didn’t bother him then, but now he just constantly cursed the heavy appendage between his legs.

He blew a long sigh and rested his forehead against her door. He really should go inside. It was past dinner and his stomach was growling. If he was going to wallow in his pathetic misery, he might as well do it with a full stomach.

Rey was lounging on the couch when he finally mustered the courage to enter. “Finished having your existential crisis out there, Ben?” she asked, eyes still glued to the TV, watching some horrible reality show.

He froze at her words slightly before he forced himself to relax. “Yep.”

She turned around and leaned against the back of her couch, watching as he mooched off her leftovers. “You’re such a weirdo,” she said, grinning as he rolled his eyes.

“Should you be calling me a weirdo when you leave your front door unlocked?”

“I knew you were out there.”

He didn’t say anything in response, merely settling on the couch next to her to watch a show that decreased his IQ by the second. He took one bite of the curry she made and gagged. “Holy shit, Rey. What the fuck is this?”

“It’s curry!” She looked affronted.

“Yeah, it looks like curry, but why is it bland?”

“No one is forcing you to eat it!” She tried taking the bowl from him but he lifted it beyond her reach. “Fuck you!”

“Well, if you insist.”

He realised immediately that he said those words aloud, keenly aware of Rey’s frozen body and her proximity. Neither moved, both perfectly still as the clock on the wall counted the seconds that passed. After what felt like an eternity, he swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered the bowl onto the coffee table. She followed his movements, sitting back on her knees and watched him with wide eyes. His teeth gnawed the inside of his mouth, internally berating himself for not catching himself.

The silence between them was unbearable. He had to get out of there, fast.

Hauling himself off the couch, he made a beeline for the door, only to have his shirt yanked back, seams ripping loudly. He whipped around and saw Rey, face red and fuming. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“For you being a fucking cunt!”

He gaped at her, not quite believing his ears. “What?”

Rey swung her body over the back of her couch and bared down on him like a feral animal. He never saw her so furious. “You! Something fucking happened, Ben! We were fine, we were great! Until you started hiding shit from me!”

“I didn’t hide anything from you!” he argued, temper flaring at her accusations.

“Yeah, you did! You became distant! I thought it was something I did. I mean, why else would you stop talking to me?”

“We’re talking right now!”

“You know what I mean!!”

He did. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and he had hoped she wouldn’t notice. They would see each other like normal, and he would still answer her calls, but he was not going to fucking reply to her texts about some guy asking her out. No way in hell could his mind handle that.

“-and now you basically ask me to be your fuckbuddy? Do you think nothing about what we’ve been through?”

“What?” Her ramblings snapped him from his reverie. “I did not say that.”

“Then why would you say that, huh? Why would you insinuate fucking me if not as a fuckbuddy?” Her eyes were wet with unshed tears and it broke his heart.

“Maybe because I love you?” he said weakly, hands coming up to cup her face, thumb swiping at her falling tears. “Is that such a hard thing to believe?”

“You’re just saying that,” she said with a waterlogged voice.

He pressed their foreheads together. “No,” he said softly. “I’ve always loved you. Always, but Rey, there’s only so much I can take.”

She sniffled. “What do you mean?”

“How the hell am I supposed to reply to a guy asking you out when all I want is to have you for myself?”

She let out a whine and smacked his shoulder repeatedly. “What else was I meant to do? You started acting weird and then you stopped sleeping over! I thought maybe this was it. That I had done something, maybe was too forward and familiar with you that it chased you away.”

His rebuttal died on his tongue when her words sank in. With narrowed eyes, he chased her eyes, which conveniently avoided his. “Rey,” he said with warning in his voice. “What do you mean ‘too forward and familiar’?”

She looked so goddamn cute with her bottom lip wedged between her teeth. “I’ve wanted to be more than friends for a while, Ben, but never knew how to ask-”

He didn’t let her finish her sentence, he was too impatient and too relieved to stop himself. Her lips felt so soft and she tasted amazing. All his daydreams of what it was like to kiss her was nothing compared to the real deal. And her greedy little tongue was pushing past his lips, hungrily kissing and sucking his bottom lip. Fuck, they had to stop or else he was going to embarrass himself.

They broke apart and stared at each other, faces flushed and lips ruby red. And then she giggled. It was such a Rey thing to do, never good at handling long periods of silence. “You’re an idiot,” she laughed. “You’re an idiot. I’m an idiot. We’re the co-presidents of the Idiot Club.”

Ben grinned and dropped butterfly kisses on her nose. “Yeah, we are.”

Suddenly, she sobered up and looked at him seriously. “Ben.”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t destroy me with your monster cock.”

[humanityinahandbag]

Defective (the first in a random collection)

In which a writer tries to write snapshots into the life of the first (and only) Rick to leave the citadel and actually raise a fucking family. 

His name is Rick C-236.B. And he’s vaguely and reluctantly domestic. 

Updates are not planned and this might go flopping spectacularly. This writer also has too many fics she needs to finish. So don’t expect a novel. 

Rick C-1902b stares at Rick C-236.B and takes a long swig of his flask. It’s purposeful, and a dick move at that. C-236.B’s flask had been confiscated after they’d finished patting him down (they’d completely missed the vials of high toxicity neuron gas he’d shoved up his ass so at least he had that if it came to it) and his hand twitched. His brow pushed down, and he glared at C-1902b, who made a show of shotgunning the rest of the vodka before tucking away the flask in his lab coat. “So, you’re being dem-ugh-demoted, huh?”

He wished he was that level of shit-faced right then. Sobriety wasn’t a good look on him. “Apparently.”

“Heh.” C-1902b flipped through a stack of papers. “You’re getting a bughh- a defective. Sign here.”

There’s no real argument to be had. He was just another Rick who’d tried to topple the oligarchy of Rick’s. It had been done before. It’d be done again. He was just another cog in a pattern. And each one of them, of which there had been many, was eventually given the temporary sentence of a defective Morty.

It usually lasted a few short months before the sentences were retracted for a lighter, more manageable one.

Toppling the oligarchy was, after all, an every day sort of thing. It didn’t warrant much more than a slap on the wrist. And a few months with a shitty side piece was usually all they got for it.

He signed Ape Aids on the paper (for which the proctor only snorted and filed somewhere next to Chimp Fuckers), handed in his number card, and walked around the desk. C-1902b got up and followed in step. He fiddled with his portal gun and pointed it at the bare wall. “They got you a real nice place, shit bag. Real nice.”

“Shut the fuck up and do your job.”

C-1902b guffaws. “You’re gonna fuckin’ love this.” He shoots. The green portal opens with a resounding braaaaaaawwhhhh and C-236.B huffs a heavy sort of sigh that smells too much like vomit and booze.

This whole place smelled like vomit and piss and booze. Home, the Rick’s would call that. He saluted the other Rick, and with a chirp of -”see you later, pussy” and a high held middle finger, he steps through, into the suburbia that greets him on the other side.

There’s a social worker at the front door. Which is… strange. Because he’s standing on the lawn and there’s a social worker sort of just standing around like he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on either, and he looks at Rick for a second like he’s some sort of old vagrant before knocking on the door again. “Mrs. Smith-?”

“That’s my daughter.”

The social worker ignores him in favor of pounding on the door. “Mrs. Smith!”

Rick steps forward. He still doesn’t have his flask. Or anything. Except for an ass full of neuron gas but this seems like too much effort to pull a squat just to wriggle that thing out. He groans and pushes forward again, whipping out an arm to snag at the mans coat. “Hey. Dipshit.” The man finally turns enough to ogle Rick with huge, owlish eyes. “I’m her father. Whatever she did, you can fucking talk to me.”

“She abandoned her kids.”

Well. That didn’t sound like Beth.

That sounded like him. Not like Beth.

“I don’t think so.”

“She got drunk again.” said the social worker, by ways of moving the conversation forward. “It was stipulated in her parole-” blah blah blah

“My daughter wouldn’t do that. She” (loves? adores? tolerates?) “likes her kids.”

“Sir, she’s an alcoholic with a long streak of theft.” Well… at least this world made sense hereditarily. She’s been on parole for three days. She ran.”

“Smart choice. Avoid the government.” He always knew his Beth was a good one.

“She left her kids!” He wiggled his files in the air. “Again!”

“Kids get in the way of the whole, avoid the government.”

“Sir-”

Rick cut him off with a snort. “So what? So do… go find her or something? She’ll go… go to rehab and so some shit and what? What’s gonna happen.”

“I don’t know, sir.” The social workers tone became clipped and slow. Like he was talking to a three year old and not a galaxy renowned scientist. Rick clenched his jaw. “She’s missing. She ran away. Again. As if her husband was any help-” (well… at least they were agreed on one thing…) “-he’s off god knows where and now her kids are alone. If a neighbor hadn’t called…”

Oh… oh this was good.

A defective Morty with no Beth. No Jerry. Him and Summer alone without anything. Oh this was perfect! Rick began to compose the speech in his mind. He’d throw it right back at those other Rick’s ballsacks. He’d say too bad! Sent me to the wrong place! Return my belongings and give me a new, functional shield, and go fuck yourselves while you’re at it! He’d be home free.

And it was looking like all of this would turn out this way. Like it was all going to tumble into a perfect little pile of Hell Yeah I’m Rick until…

Until the social worker turned on him.

“You,” said the social worker.

“Me.” stated Rick.

“You’re their grandfather?”

“Uh.”

“I mean, I’ll have to check the paperwork! Make sure you’re really- I can go get that now! Oh my god, sir, this is going to make my life so much better! Oh and the kids, of course, but… but god this is so much paperwork and time saved!”

“Uh-”

“If you wan’t to come into the office? I can get you all the things you need! I assume you’re going to be living in the house or do you have your own residence-”

“Hold the fucking phone.” Rick lifted his palms and shook them in front of the mans face until they resembled little, albino trees on a blustery, blustery day. “Hold the mother fucking phone. You want me to-”

“You’re their next of kin!”

“I’m an alcoholic.”

“I can have you everything by tomorrow! Does that work?”

“I’m definitely abusive.”

“Or would you rather come in today? The sooner the better!”

“I’m going to scar these kids. Like… l-like totally. Beyond redemption. They will be fucked. up.”

“Today. Today is the best.” The social worker beamed up at the abusive, alcoholic, child-scarring man with an earnest sort of glee. “Oh this is wonderful, sir, just wonderful. You already know the children, I’m sure, but I think it best if you explain it all to them, don’t you? Don’t you think that that’s best?”

There were two options.

He could just walk away.

Scratch that. He’s walking. Now.

“Sir? Sir, where are-!”

“Are you… are you my grandpa Rick?” He turns. Oh. Ohhhh fuck.

The social worker kneels down. “Yes, Summer. He’s your grandfather. You know him?”

Summer is at the door. Only she’s not as tall and not as fake-blonde and not as anything. She’s younger. And her eyes are bigger. And she’s doing a fan-fucking-tastic job staring at him with them.

The girl shook her head, but opened her mouth to declare that she’d “met him once” but a long time ago, since Beth had stopped seeing guests in favor of the bottom of a bottle. She didn’t talk about the fact that he’d left voluntarily. He didn’t have to be a part of this universe to know that. Rick’s always left. And they always came back just to screw everything over a few times.

He takes a step back. Summer’s eyes are on him again.

“Where are you going, Grandpa Rick?” There’s a noise behind her, and a younger child, two or three or just spectacularly short, toddles up and takes her hand and peers around at the older man like he’s seeing him for the first time. He probably is.

“Morty, look! It’s our…” her eyes flicker up, then down again, “Grandpa?”

“Rick. Just Rick.”

“Grandpa,” she amends. She’d always been that way- declaring the world her own through whatever words she chose. The Morty behind her shifted and hid his face against her back. “He’s gonna take care of us?”

“He is,” said the social worker, who holds out a pen. “Right, Mr. Smith?”

He probably should say no, and watch them get hauled into the stupid pussy green Pries that's sitting on the road. Off to some stupid godforsaken government fondled foster center. They'd be separated and one or both of them would end up in some shitty situation with the whole "hard knock life" vibe. And that didn't matter. He didn't care. He could wait until they'd been weathered by someone else besides him, and then sweep them back up, the hard work of shattering two innocent souls completed and the lazy, aftereffects left for him to do with as he pleased. Except... a few years, alone, in suburbia. That sounded like a borefest beyond all borefests.

Entertainment came in all forms, he supposed.

Rick sighs. His plan forgotten and his spirits, for the most part, dashed, he eased forward and took the pen. “It’s Sanchez,” he said, signing the bottom. “And bring the stupid fucking paperwork tomorrow.”

“Will do, sir!”

There are at least a few good things here, Rick thinks, when he shuts the door and looks down at the two tiny children who stand in front of him.

Morty, who still hides his face still against Summer’s back, is young.

Young enough to make an impression.

A lasting impression.

A I’ll-Do-Whatever-Without-Complaining sort of impression.

The kind that could make all those other Rick’s realize who’d gotten the best part of the deal. When he walked through the citadel with his loyal, no questions asked Morty. They’d see. They’d all see.

“So,” says Summer, reaching behind her to hold Morty’s shoulders at an odd angle. “Your our… parent?”

He breaks out of his reveries long enough to look down at her. “No. I’m your grandparent. You got booze?”

“No. I’m six.”

“Okay. But is there booze here.”

“I don’t know. I’m six.”

He draws out a long sigh.

“Are you going to stay here forever?”

“No,” says Rick, who’s turning around to go find booze. The two kids march fast to keep up with his legs. “I’m going to stay long enough to break you two into obedient little servants who will bend at my every will.” He points to the little boy. “Especially you.” Morty, who had peeked over the curve of Summer’s neck, pushes his face between Summer’s shoulder blades. “And then once I’ve gotten there, I’m going to shove it into the stupid Citidel’s face and they’ll take me back as a hero. And then you,” he points again to Morty, “will be my mental shield, and you,” the finger inches over to Summer, “are going to be a nagging bitch. Sound good?”

The impressive little speech hangs in the air between them.

Summer squints up at him until her nose wrinkles. “Okay. But are you going to make dinner?”

The moment is promptly lost. “Probably not.” says Rick. He goes back to the cabinets. There really was no booze. The parole officers must have snagged it. Fucking government pawns. “Eh… you guys eat pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Pizza it is.”

“I want pineapples on mine.”

“Pineapples are for whores, Summer.”

Morty pokes his head over, his brown curls bobbing. “I want pineapple,” he squeaks, barely audible, mimicking his sister with his own desire for the whorish fruit before planting his face right back where it had been.

They end up ordering a pie with half pineapple, half anything else, and eat in silence around the table. Summer helps Morty with his. Rick just watches. She takes care of the younger, it looks like, down to silently lifting his hand when the cheese begins to drip down his wrist. Beth must have been in a fucking state not to. She’d never been mom of the year. But this was… something new.

The two are mostly self sufficient, and so teeth are brushed and beds are turned down without a fuss or help. Morty shuts his door and Summer leaves hers open, and Rick wanders to his own bedroom to find its an office, and so he ends up wandering to the couch downstairs and claiming it as his own.

Well. It could be better. It could be worse. But for all that it was, he would break them. And then… then they would see. Then they would all see just what happened when you messed with a Rick and his deficient Morty.

It’s two weeks in, when the house is actually functioning (albeit very loosely) with a sort of schedule, when Morty is still not talking to him that he the whole “breaking” plan is seeming a little harder than before.

Morty and him had always clicked. Clicked like two puzzle pieces being shoved and broken together. But at least they’d worked. This Morty peers at him from behind couches and shoves cereal in his mouth to avoid letting words out.

He learns a few things about each kid. Things he knew from their older versions. And things that he’d missed when he’d missed the whole young kid age.

Summer hates artichokes and tuna fish, but is okay with salmon as long as it’s mixed with mayo.

Morty likes drawing. And that’s about it.

He draws on everything. Everywhere. There’s little sneaky dots on the walls that he hides with the Fisher Price toys scattered around, and a few on the legs of the couch. Paper is everywhere, crumpled up, and covered with different strings of terrible art. Summer is the one who usually picks them up and throws them away, shoving them deep into the trashcan next to the beer cans from Rick’s late night science binges. “Just leave him alone while he draws,” Summer advises, sounding like she’s ten years older than just six, but he doesn’t comment. “It’s how he coped.”

“With what? A drunk?” Rick shakes the can in her face and she swats it away.

“It’s how he coped,” she says again, before throwing the rest of the drawings out.

He’ll find Morty “coping” every so often. And each time, he tries to make some sort of… conversation? Mind bending alteration? … breakthrough? …mental scar? Today, the chosen place is from under the table, with a crayon in each hand, and a paper in front of his feet. Rick bends down. “Hey, kid, you gonna talk now or w-ugh-what.”

Morty nearly snaps the crayon in two and crawls out, hurrying to find a new place to hide. His drawing (it’s a whale. or a dinosaur. or… maybe a weird vagina creature or something?) is left behind.

Rick picks it up. He turns it one way. He turns it the other way. “Huh,” says Rick.

He hangs it on the fridge with a super magnet he’d created to attract quarters (a mostly failed project- it’d gotten him pennies and not much else).

The next day, Morty is once again coloring something that resembles a group of drowning people. Rick snorts. “Hey, not bad!”

That’s enough to send the kid into an anxiety ridden spiral and he dives under the couch and stays there until Summer drags him out by his ankles.

The picture, which is a lot of blue shit, goes up on the fridge.

By the end of the week, their fridge is mostly covered with Morty’s “coping”.

He’ll find Morty standing at the foot of it, staring up. He gives the kids leg a little kick. “Not bad, right?” The kid blinks at him. Better than running away. “I bluhhh- I got this fridge to magnetize to substances containing traces of tree pulp and wax. Set it real low, s-so it’ll only work for paper and crayons and shit. You like?”

Morty looks back at it. And then he hands Rick a new drawing. “Sure,” says Rick, thwaking it onto the fridge. “That good?”

Morty nods.

“You want dinner? Pizza?”

Morty shakes his head.

His grandfather groans. “Right. Okay. So I can’t cook much shit b-but…” he opens the fridge, and the paper flutters and whisks around, “how -how are eggs. You like eggs?”

Morty nods.

They eat a pile of party burned eggs for dinner. Morty helps his grandfather bring the plates to the kitchen, and hands them off before scurrying up to bed.

They never ask where their mother is. Or their father. They never really mention their names or faces. Summer doesn’t seem at all torn up at the concept of a sudden and uncaring guardian, and Morty is content to hold his sisters hand and tag along.

Rick feels bad for them in the kind of kicked puppy way.

“You want to call your mom or… I dunno… something?” asks Rick one day to the kids.

Summer is brushing her hair in the mirror and doesn’t bother to look away from what she’s doing. “No,” she says. Morty, who’s next to her sitting on the toilet lid and watching, doesn’t do anything. “She’ll call if she wants to.”

She doesn’t call.

That tells Rick a lot about this reality, which is sort of more fucked up than the other ones he’s been to.

He didn’t think that was much possible.

The fridge is literally drowning in paper.

Between that and eggs, Rick is basically running a household.

Which is… different.

The plans to break the kids get put off in favor of other, more important things. Like trying not to burn eggs.

Morty’s first words to him were supposed to be something like “what can I do to serve you” or “I’ll be your eternal slave forever and always” or “gee whizz, Rick, don’t you think this is dangerous?” or something Morty-ish like that.

“Can you reach the ice cream.”

That’s the first words. The first fucking words.

“What?”

Morty points to the paper swamped freezer. “The ice cream.” He’s got a little bit of a lisp, and two of his teeth are missing. He’d never opened his mouth, so the elderly man never noticed. “I want chocolate.”

“Oh.” Rick opens the freezer. It’s the first one, on the bottom, and it’s still full. He doesn’t even comprehend the magnitude of the fact that his grandchild is finally talking to him, or the fact that his first words to him are so puss poor and definitely not in line with his plans at all -I mean for real, isn’t he supposed to be the one giving directions?- but he’s sort of overtaken by the fact that holy shit there’s ice cream.

He spoons it into three cups and shouts something like Summer get your ass down here up the stairs, and plants them all in front of the television and says “alright Kids, I’m gonna introduce you to the wonders of ball fondlers.”

The usual Morty liked it more than this Morty. But this Morty at least stays quiet.  He crosses his legs and watches and drops half the ice cream onto the couch, which Rick is going to have a shit time cleaning but he doesn’t care.

“I liked the crocodile,” says Morty after, yawning and trailing after his grandfather. Rick grabs a paper towel and runs it under too-hot water and scrubs down the kids face. Morty protests, but it doesn’t matter much.

“It’s an alligator, dumbass.”

“I liked him.” His chin is all red and blotchy after Rick had scrubbed it raw, but at least it’s clean. He throws it away and grabs Morty’s arm.

“Come on. Bed.”

“I have to brush my teeth.”

“Fine. Teeth. Then bed.”

Morty allows himself to be dragged along. Which is such a Morty thing to do, and that’s at least a small comfort through all of this. “I like Elmo better.”

“Elmo ain’t got shit. Can Elmo castrate an entire commune of nazis?”

“Elmo says I can do anything if I dream it.”

“Dreams are just chemicals reacting in your brain and Elmo is a puppet. Like you.”

“Oh,” says Morty. Then: “I like Cookie Monster the best anyway.”

And that was Morty. Always seeing the best.

Rick helps him get toothpaste onto the brush and shoves him into his room and watches him sternly (or as stern as he thinks he needs to look for a grandfather running a household that basically lives off pizza and eggs and ice cream) from the doorway. The kids pajamas are too small, but he wriggles into them anyway. The last good pair he had must have been given to them before his daughter had gone bananas on reality and fucked off. He wondered how Summer was faring. And then he shakes his head and stops himself from wondering.

He wonders anyway.

No one says goodnight, except for Summer who shouts at Rick to shut off the light already! and that’s sort of the same thing.

Rick collapses on the couch that night and stares at the ceiling. His plans… they’re not shattered? But they’re not… in order. They’re chaotic and messy. And a little scattered.

But that’s what they sentenced him to. A Morty that had been deemed defective until further notice. And his… was a work in progress. Progress that he didn’t want to do.

But hell. He’d done worse. And this was just going to be one in many days ahead that he had to work with what he’d been dealt…

… and what he’d been dealt apparently went down the drain with one huge fuck you old man because by the end of the month he’s standing in a Target looking through the pajamas while an acne covered employee drones “what are you looking for sir?”

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“I’m only here to help, sir,” says the teen, who’s basically dripping oil and cologne.

Rick sighs. “I need a size six. My kid’s fucking tiny as shit. You got a size six? In dinosaur. He only li- li- brurghhh- likes dinosaurs.” Which is evident enough by the stack of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets also in the cart next to the carrot sticks that the mom next door said were essential to a Childs growth. He'd picked out pajamas for Summer already, next to a few different shirts that had looked about their size, and some jeans with elastic ankle bands because he had to be cruel to them somehow. “And if you don’t have it, I’ll have to shoot your f- ughhh-cking face in.”

"Sir, are you drunk."

"I wish." He pauses. “Halfway there. Should be there by checkout.”

"Sir, are you carrying a concealed weapon."

"Not concealed. It's here." he pat his pocket.

"Sir, you can't have that in here. It's dangerous."

"it's only dangerous if you d- ughh- don't got dinosaurs! Size six, motherfucker."

The teen can only find Star Wars, and he hands it over with a monotone, "sorry, sir, will these do" that tells Rick his shift is almost done so please hurry the fuck up. Rick takes them and hopes the kid knows what Star Wars is. And also hopes that he hates it. That fake science wasn't worth shit.

"Thans for nothing."

"Always happy to help, sir." says the teen, who resumes his wandering to search for more victims. Rick does the same, only after loading two more cartons of chocolate ice cream into his cart. The kids, it seemed, were still fond of ice cream, sans flies. Some things didn't change.

[hankeliza]

Hate to be cliche, but here goes.

This decade has been some shit. 2010. Best year of my life. I’m 17, I have my soul mate and best friend every single day of my life. No bills and making way too much money. I got the love of my life, Rome. I am so cool in my mind and just life was fucking GREAT. I met corbin that year and I was legit in absolute bliss.

Feb 2012 my best friend moves to fl and that was so great but I am in absolute shambles. I am lost I am unhappy. This is where it all goes wrong and only now, 8 years later do I realize the codependency issues I had with jenna. I fucking loved that chick from the depths of my goddamn soul, we could speak and make decisions and plans with just locking eyes for a blink of a second. So bc I am sad, lost and unable to make sense of my selfish and immature feelings, I take it out on her and a whole slough of klonopin. Corbin and I are doing bad and this is when it should’ve ended.

April 2012 (hah time is funny af) I do some shady shit, but not to the magnitude it was portrayed. Life moves on and I get back with corbin. This is my new person to rely on. I need him bc he stuck thru it with me and gained my whole hearted trust that he loves me, even when ugly and I love him through all of his ugly. We are ugly and we are in love and nothing in the world matters to me anymore besides him.

Oct 2012 I finally am ready to move outta stc. But corbins with me. I beg and beg and beg to please go to Tampa but nah, we go to Miami. It’ll be easier, Adam will take us in. He still is this big mature, always with it guy, I don’t know him, that’s why. We get there, nothing much to even talk about. Great times but eh. Leavin it at that. Shit happens and we get out of dodge like some fuckin thief’s in the night. Drive two days to portland. I won’t get into all the beautiful shit I saw bc that’ll take too long but, here we are.

I live with a naked hippie that is actually psychotic and oh, later on turns out she’s making us pay for a house SHE IS SQUATTING IN. But anyway, things happened (again adam) and we move to the city city. Won’t even get in to the shit that transpired there, but now I’m moving back home.

Feb 2013 (wow really seeing some timelines matching up of my most unpleasant times of my life?!¿¡) so I’m back home. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I think I weighed 110 while standing 5’8. My dads on parole, only time I see sunlight is when he needs to meet with his PO. Nicole nurtures me and literally does everything in her power to make me be better, but I am not ready to feel happiness or bond with any other human. I am not ready to move on or up or out. I am stuck. Corbin moves home. Ahhh yes. My safety blanket is back and I can be happy again (hahahah)

So in the meantime while I was sad Nicole and I are partying, late nights to meijer and rite aid, getting high and snacks and shit is just fucking awesome. She meets the love of her life and he takes her and even me in to his whole friend crowd and I am HAPPY and feel bliss again. I have friends? Imagine that. They fall madly in love and then heh, they move. Well shit. Now mind you I have totally capability to see them whenever I please bc Nicole is an open door policy. But truly I’m lazy, I like convenience and still wrapped up in my own stupid bitchass, (that I can now see, but then couldn’t) and it’s back to corbin and I.

So now it’s getting close to end of 2013 and all I pretty much do is spend every waking moment with corbin. I don’t mean to make that sound so awful, then I loved it. Now, it’s all so bleak.

2014 hits. I’m in and out of jobs. Corbin and I live off of pop can returns. I’m still 21 so like, none of that mattered and I didn’t care about a future. He gets a job and I finally get into the courthouse. We start doing ~molly~ heavy. Locking ourselves in a bedroom from Friday-Sunday. Every weekend. When you hear “ecstasy/drugs ruined my sex life” from older people, you don’t really know what to make of that. When I tell you drugs ruined our sex life and our likeness for each other, now I fucking get it. I stopped smoking weed 24/7 bc I was paranoid of losing my job. Not much more to that year or 2015 than chemical pills and being locked in a room and outdoor adventures with my dog.

2016, I finally convince corbin to {for the love of god} attempt to get his license back (which he did, and then ruined again, but that comes later) so we’re really making moves, honestly for us we were doing shit. We had a marker board calendar AND meeting our goals/deadlines !!! His dad gets oxys, and we’ve been borrowing his Vicodin for idk, a year or 3 at this point. This is kinda when things get fuzzy. But oxys come and got damn do they feel good. But only recreational. It wasn’t serious then.

Corbin gets prescribed adderall. Not much more we need to dive in to with that jazz but oxys and addies were all we ate until about the end of 2017. Pills are gone. Let’s fucking driiiiink.

2018

So I developed an alcohol issue at this point. Still battling it to this day. But I don’t really remember much. Did some cool shit, went to Europe. Met a girl that I’ve never loved kissing more. She was nuts. I moved out of our apartment we got together and back home, re-up w/ Rickey, we have fun. He cheats on me with the girl he got pregnant and neglected (they’re engaged now, congrats guys) I’m completely broken and alone because at this point i have managed to push every waking soul away from me and experience the weirdest fucking shit ever that I can only explain as spiritual, or maybe it was satanic. It burned and hurt and scared the ballsacks out of me. Can’t kill your self if you’re a pussy, turns out.

I spent this whole year trying to find friends, wrong crowd. I developed a relationship with a coworker who still to this day has my heart and soul and I love him and will always hope the best. He is the greatest comfort I had but it was only ever from 5pm - until we finished having drinks and sex and then back to being alone. I even confessed my confused love for him and he set me straight. He showed me more about being strong than anyone ever. I love you D.

The end of September I finally meet up with a dude I can’t take my damn eyeballs off for years. I finally mustered up the courage after making excuses for about 2 weeks why I couldnt meet up with him. So I come over. It’s raining so hard. I couldn’t find his house. I just wanted the god damn dick, and go home. He didn’t let that happen.

We see one another mainly every single day except Wednesday’s because he has plans that day every week. I tried my hardest to ghost him multiple times but he didn’t let that happen either. We are both drinking a lot because we are both sad but our company really really reaaaally made up for the sadness. He is the funniest person I’ve ever met and I think he thought that about me too.

November 21st comes and he is being weird and I am constantly nervous around him so I get weird bc I think I did something or he’s gonna tell me to go home, I didn’t know. He finally says he wants to be my man, like full time man. I have a bf? I don’t want one but something about you is fckin freaky you beautiful boy. Everything is coming together.

And here we go: December 21. 1 month is all it took to mess it up.

Leaving my work party, ironically after getting all of my drinks bought for me :) , I go to jail. Jail was not as bad as I expected. I was a good criminal so I got to sit in a different room w/ a tv until shift change. Oh and ! my high school classmate was a worker there so that was neat ! (jesuschrist) anyway; dont have Laynes number memorized, my family and I just watched my grandpa die, gasping for air 10 day prior. Can’t call my mom. Scared to call my dad (who was the nicest of anyone) soooooo corbin it is. I dealt with his jail problems time after time so, his turn I guess.

Welp it’s 2019. Not much to say. Layne stuck through all of it with me and I have no fucking clue why. Got a therapist. Stopped drinking whiskey completely. Bought a vacuum and couch. Live with my way too supportive boyfriend. My family fucking loves him. I am .... growing ? stronger ? mentally ? as every day passes ? because of him ? He teaches me so much about moving on, life and just thinking before doing. Life ain’t that serious. I love you Layne. I completely do. I started alcohol classes and I went in with such a shitty attitude, like I’m better than everyone? (Been my issue for, forever) I fucking love my group sessions. I am for once not alone with the unpopular shit I struggle with. Addiction is so real and I always thought it was a stupid ass excuse for being lazy but hahhhhhh karma loves me.

I’ve been struggling so hard with jenna. I have talked to a handful of people and most have said it’s been blown out of proportion but, don’t hurt your friends. I finally fucking wrapped it up when I got ahold of her, tried to anyway, before Christmas. I explained a lot, now that I’ve had years to sit back and reflect on myself and my bullshit and I can’t blame her (side bar: she still didn’t care lol.) But I am fuckin over it. My feelings got hurt to absolute fuck about some things and instead of being mature, I fucked her over, because I felt fucked over. But I’m sorry, I did that, I take responsibility and best wishes forever but an anvil weight has finally been lifted off my chest and I feel like I can finally move the fuck on and it’s such a great feeling to get rid of something that’s been eating me alive.

So basically, the last two years ate me the fuck alive. This year I meditated on shit. We will see how 2020 goes but I am ready considering what I’ve done to myself, been through and I still am fucking alive and trying. Being a human is dumb but it’s aight sometimes. Getting better. Good luck y’all.

[dcbicki]

I'm sorry to double dip but could you do danxamy for 14 and Jonsa for 6? Those are my two fave pairings!

I did the Dan/Amy one, but (if you’re still interested) could you send me a different message for the J/S one - it makes things easier to post? Also, I love how this was supposed to be a ‘few short paragraphs’ meme but I went over 3k words with this… Enjoy! :)

14. Things you said after you kissed me | Post-s6, in which Amy is ready to give birth, and Dan’s feelings are semi-ready to express themselves.

-

“If I find even one picture of this on that phone, you’re a dead man.”

“Ah, come on, Amy,” He starts, grins - that prick! - and then he’s scrolling through what she can only guess is a new photo album on his fucking iPhone. “Don’t you wanna have something memorable to show people, to commemorate this joyous occasion?”

She can’t tell if he’s fucking with her, or if this is actually all just a part of his stupid fucking plan.

“I think the probable sociopath I’m squeezing out of my fucking vagina is gonna be enough of a souvenir, thanks.” Her teeth grit and she’s frowning, reaching for something to hold onto other than the railing of the hospital bed.

She’ll commemorate this joyous occasion by chopping his balls off and force-feeding them to him through a tube. That sounds like a pretty solid revenge scheme right now.

“Dan! Can you just put the fucking phone down and get me some ice chips? For fuck’s sake.”

Amy doesn’t notice the two cups already on the side, chips melting. So, he just smiles, picks one up and hands it to her. There, hold that.

She doesn’t though – instead she finds herself grasping at his shirt, knuckles whiter than usual, face a pretty picture of sheer agony, “You’re gonna pay for this, you dick.”

“So you’ve said.” He’s rolling his eyes, and he laughs (because he’s not the one forcing an infant through his genitals) like the asshole she knows him to be.

And then he smirks, because he’s Dan, because he can, “You can only kill me so many times, you know?” The threat count is probably nearing the two hundred mark at this point.

Apparently, within the next couple hours, she’s castrating him with children’s craft scissors, gauging his eyes out with bendy plastic spoons, ripping his hair right from his scalp with just her bare hands, carving out his shrivelled up black heart and proceeding to feed his carcass to a pack of wild dogs. Oh, and she’s gonna feed him his ballsack through a fucking tube. Whether that’s pre or post heart failure, he isn’t sure.

Sure thing, Ames.

“I still get to torture you beforehand.”

“True. But you know I’d just consider that brutal foreplay.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She’d let go of his shirt sometime in the past minute, and her palm is wrapped so tightly around the frame she’s sure, he’s sure it will snap. Fuck, it’ll probably shatter.

Dan looks over at her then, (attempts to) run a hand through over-gelled hair, phone finally shoved inside his back pocket, “D'you want me to leave? I can just wait in the hall. I mean, I’ve got some calls to make and-”

Yeah, Dan, you’re not good with hospitals or empathy, I know.

“You’re staying right here.” Her blue eyes are like frozen blocks of ice, and her lips draw thin, cheeks puffing as her face flushes, neck tenses. “You’re gonna stand there, and only there, and you’re gonna hold my fucking hand like the nice man your mom thinks she raised.”

He nods, complies, shuffles forward so he’s leaning over the side of the railing. Even when she’s sat and he’s slouched, he still towers over her, still doesn’t loom. What kinda bullshit-

“Okay.” Dan sighs, adds, “Your mom’s outside, by the way.” As though that will get her to change her mind.

Oh, yes, Dan. Yes! Go get my mom, and you can wait in the hall with fucking Gary! That’ll make you happy, won’t it? Go!

“Well, then, that’s where she’ll stay.” She huffs out, eyes closed since he agreed to stay. Her head’s thrown back, blonde hair askew, face pink, lips plump. God, he wants to fucking straighten her hair. She isn’t her.

“Really?” He frowns anyway, confusion clear across his face, “Don’t you want some other woman here? I thought that was like a… thing.” His nose crinkles, “What about your sister?”

He doesn’t quite understand why she wants him here, especially with her mother right outside and she’s always seemed closer to her than anybody else in her family. Hell, Gary’s probably better suited for this kind of thing than he is - he’s into all that feminine crap, right? And he’s just-

Well, he wasn’t even all that great when they went for checkups. He just sat there in the chair and smugly grinned like an asshole whenever the doctor pointed at the screen, at the bean-sized, peanut-sized, melon-sized spawn of his that Amy was incubating.

Come to think of it, he’s not even sure he’s ready for the little bugger to be born yet. Then again, him not ready being ready isn’t the worst thing. Amy’s the one having to do all the work.

Push, scream, push, push, scream, cry, push, sweat, cry, sweat, scream.

Hopefully, she doesn’t die. Hopefully, she won’t leave him alone with a newborn. That would be some serious fucking divine retribution right there. Dan, you take this. You deal with it. Have fun, fucker.

“That’s not a fucking thing, and if you ever fucking bring up Sophie again, I swear to God I will have you murdered in your sleep.”

He’s brought back then, all wide-eyed and lost-looking.

With a sigh, he concedes. He is the father. (Wow, that’s fucking weird.) He’s the one who did this to her, with her. He’s the one who fucked her, and subsequently fucked them both over.

“Nah, you wouldn’t.” He glances down at Amy, raises one eyebrow pointedly in that way she really, really, truly fucking detests, “You wouldn’t deprive yourself of that pleasure.”

His gaze shifts to the door then as it swings open, allowing Amy’s (midwife? obstetrician? fuck knows!) doctor to walk through. A nurse follows, and Dan catches a quick glance of Amy’s mom talking to Gary in the waiting room.

Are they deciding which one of them is going to watch over the kid first so that Amy can catch some sleep, and Dan can go home and change out of his day-old shirt? He’s actually surprised that, for once, Gary isn’t at Selina’s side like a fucking half-turtled turd.

Amy’s been here for fucking hours – all bed-ridden and shit in a sweaty dull-coloured hospital gown, and (truth be told) he’s still pretty pissed about the blue balls she’d left with him earlier. (Granted, she went into labour, but still.)

Going home to stroke one out might actually come in handy. Pun fully intended, he grins. Just as long as he doesn’t catch a view of her child-baring vag beforehand-

“How are we feeling?”

He’s flicking open the chart the nurse hands him - Dan’s forgotten his name because it was some European-sounding bullshit and he had more important stuff to do than learn it - and he smiles up at Amy, all red hair and freckles and glasses.

“Just tell me if I’m fucking dilated.” Amy writhes on the bed, focuses her attention on the patterned ceiling, and Dan’s damn sure she’s gonna pull a fucking Exorcist in a minute and start levitating. It doesn’t look comfortable. Maybe Mike hadn’t been lying about his surrogate’s birthing story, after all.

The doctor shoves his glasses up his nose, snaps the chart shut and smiles (like a fucking teenage boy who’s gonna get his first upfront look at a woman’s privates).

He leans forward, does his thing (and Dan watches him out of the corner of his eye because focusing on that is a little more personal than he’s willing to get right now, or ever.)

He’d rather not see some guy - trained professional or not - put his hands anywhere near Amy’s crotch. (Unless it’s in a mirror… and he’s the guy.)

“Looks like I was right on time. You’re just about ten centimetres.”

The blonde sits up in her bed then, neck muscles still tense, shoulders raised and bony, “So the little fucker’s finally ready to come out?”

“Amy.”

“I can… start pushing?” She corrects herself with a sigh, half-ignores Dan’s burning stare. Fuck you.

“Seems so.”

She briefly relaxes then, lets herself fall back for only a moment, but then another contraction hits her again, only it’s worse this time, and Dan’s hand is actually there for her to hold and bruise and fuckin’ crush. Jesus, woman!

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“If we’re waiting for that, the kid’s never coming out.”

It’s intended as a joke, but Amy just tightens her hold around Dan’s hand, waiting until his knuckles crack before finally softening her grip.

Prick.

He holds up his other hand (semi-apologetically given the proud look on his face) before lowering it down to the side of the bed, wrapping it around the metal post and leaning closer to her.

“Okay. Push.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Just fuckin’ push, Amy.” He sounds ticked off, worked up, “Jesus, it’s not hard.”

Despite herself, she finds herself reassured when his hand reaches for her own, and then she’s going for it.

-

Turns out, it’d been harder than he thought it would be.

That epidural – no, those two epidurals – clearly hadn’t done shit because she was still in pain throughout, and her body was on the brink of a fucking collapse. Maybe that’s just what happens though. How the fuck is he supposed to know? He didn’t even wanna be here for this until she roped him, forced him into it.

Watching Amy Brookheimer give birth (to his child) hadn’t ever been on his bucket list, and now, he notes, there’s a reason that was. The whole thing had been brutal. She screamed, in his face, into his shirt. She cried, in his arms, into his shirt. She sweated, like a fuckload.

She’d been all red and warm and horrifically in pain, and Dan’s pretty sure he’s going to picture her mid-labour face whenever he’s holding himself back from coming from now on.

At least now she’s calmer, and quieter, and she’s finally fuckin’ let go of his hand. Honestly, childbirth turned out to be much more of a team sport than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t think he’d ever have to be someone’s punching bag, or actual fucking support system, so that was an experience.

At least now she looks like herself, and her blonde hair is straight again because she (post-labour, of course) practically assaulted a nurse until they gave her a hairbrush. Type A, confirmed.

At least now, he can run his hands through pretty, long, straight blonde hair and grab it, tug it, pull it. Maybe once she’s out of here, and he’s changed out this bloody tear-stained, snot-ridden sweaty mess of a striped shirt, they could-

Honestly, she’s really fucking glowing and he’s kind of enjoying it. Is she supposed to look this fuckable after just giving birth? He’s probably a mess himself, all bruised knuckles from her death grip, and aching legs from standing up for so long. Oh, well.

Their son is born at a healthy weight, with blueing grey eyes and a patch of light dark hair atop his head. But he’s all gunky and gooey and just plain fucking gross, so the nurse takes him away to be cleaned up when Amy’s had just about a minute with him.

He was actually kind of… cute? Fuck, she hates that word.

Cute in a way that meant if she stared at him for too long, she’d fucking vomit. Cute in a way that meant he was cuter than most babies – but then again, that’s just their genetics.

“You did great.” Dan’s grinning (again, like a dickhead), “You know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I’m serious.”

It’s not the first time he’s complimented her skills, competence. But it’s a strange kind of sincerity, one with a little more meaning, depth behind it than she’s used to receiving from him, from anyone.

Pushing herself up on both palms, her back aches as she stretches, props herself up into a comfier position against some square pillows. It’s not soothing, though, and she has to readjust the shitty cushions behind her to find some kind of comfort. She’s fucking sat on one, and it’s doing nothing to alleviate the pain she’s feeling down below.

“When do you think I can leave?”

She wants to be working, walking about, running around, doing things. Being cooped up in a hospital bed is not fun, is not productive, is not rewarding. Granted, she can still talk and call and email but it’s not the same as being up and about, out where the action is, where she’s actually useful.

Dan gets to leave whenever he likes. Dan doesn’t have to remain on bedrest for an undetermined amount of time. Dan doesn’t have to deal with a sore vagina and everything else that entails. Dan is a man, got the ‘get out of jail free’ card when she drew the one that forces her to take five places back.

Dick, she scowls.

“Probably tonight. That nurse said there weren’t any complications so we can probably go home later.” He reasons, shrugs as though it’s nothing major. Dick.

“We?” Amy lifts a brow, sniffles, “You can go home already, you know.”

“What, you think I’m just gonna fuckin’ leave you here?” Dan stares down at her, runs one hand along the cool railing, “Jesus Christ, Amy, you just had my kid. Even I’m not that fuckin’ cold.” He almost looks appalled at the idea – he’s desperate to leave though, to go home. Fuck it, he’s half-tempted to pack her bag, get her dressed, grab the baby and make a run for it.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to wait for me-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His head ducks, eyes closing. What the fuck is he doing?

“I can have my mom bring me back to the apartment later. It s fine-” Because she’s still here, because Grandma B likes being involved in all things Baby Brookheimer-Egan related, because she’s just that kind of person. At least they’ll have someone to babysit for them that isn’t hired or fucking Gary.

“Amy, seriously. Shut up.”

“Why?” She smirks, figures she can get a rise out of him and whatever the fuck he’s trying to conceal. Is that… fucking emotion, some kind of weird display of fucking devotion? What- “Or Gary. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyway, other than trim Selina’s nails or wipe her ass.”

“You’re not going home with Gary. For fuck’s sake, Amy. Is it so hard for you to just shut your fucking mouth every once in awhile?”

You getting worked up there, Danny?

He sighs (deeply, strangely), and then he’s leaning down and kissing her before she can even say anything else, anything at all.

It’s a weird kiss, different from their normal, their usual. There’s no tongue shoved down her throat (which she almost sadly longs for), no hand on her neck (which is oddly irritating), no hair-pulling or shirt-tugging (which she really fucking craves).

It’s just a kiss on her lips (soft, surprisingly bland yet somehow charming), and then it’s over.

“What the fuck?” She exclaims when he’s pulled back, scratching the space between dark furrowed brows. “What, did you develop some kind of sappy dad hormones as soon as the fucking baby started kicking and screaming?”

“No, I-” He begins, shifts his gaze from the white sheet of her hospital bed to her face, all pink lips and flushed face. “I don’t know, Amy. Fuck!”

He doesn’t know why he kissed her - like that - save for the fact that he wanted to (almost desperately), so he did. Fuck, he feels feverish. He’s flushed, more than she is, has been, and he doesn’t understand why. His breathing is faster than it was a moment ago, and he wants nothing more than to take that kiss back.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Amy leans back against her pillows, hitches up the bottom of her gown and stretches out her legs. “Fuck.” Her eyes close and she swallows a breath, way too calm for his liking.

Why isn’t she on edge? Why isn’t she begging to be let out of this room? Why isn’t she bribing nurses?

Why isn’t she Amy?

“You know I like you, right?”

“You like me?” She grins despite her eyes remaining closed, and her neck reddens, “Wow, Dan. What a revelation.”

“As in, I like you more than I like anybody else.” Dan shrugs (for no good reason), and he clears his throat with one hand smoothing along the bed railing, “As in, I say I like you, but it’s more than that, and you know it.”

“Oh, I do? Because you’ve made it so blatantly obvious over the years?” She laughs, once, practically hiccups. “Sure, Dan. You like me like that.”

His fingers dance along the thin mattress, curling around the hem of her gown, all pale skin and pastel blue cloth.

Why is she Amy?

“You never wondered why I stayed?”

“Because you think you’re getting something out of this.” She reasons, peeks one eye open and looks at him, flicks both eyes open when she notices his frown. “Jesus Christ, why do you look like someone just reported you as a sex offender? Sort your face out.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” He nods. He did get sex out of this. He did get Amy out of this, in some way, in some capacity. He did get a mini version of himself out of this, and his narcissistic ass kind of really loves that part of the deal. “Not entirely.”

“Oh, go on.” Amy smiles, “What am I missing? Why did you stay?”

“Because it’s you.”

Why is she Amy?

Because if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be Dan.

“Is this the part where I swoon, and you get down on one knee, and the whole hospital staff applauds when I agree to marry you?” She’s smirking - that bitch! - and she licks her lips, holds her breath for a second.

“Is this where we elope and move to the suburbs and fuck maybe once every three months and I don’t let you finish?” Biting her lip, “Is this where you say you love me?”

She drags out that word, and Dan’s face near drowns of all colour. Fuck her.

“You’re a real cunt, you know that?”

She just nods, sheepish, lets the hand in her lap move to brush against his own, toying with her blue gown, “You love this cunt.”

“I do.” His palm runs along her stomach, stops just above the space between her legs. “And you love this dick.”

Amy smiles, ducks her head, understands him straight away yet doesn’t exactly deny it, “Fuck you.”

“Oh, believe me, you will. I’m just waiting until we can leave and they clear you for sex.”

“You’re seriously fucking turned on by this, aren’t you? That’s some next level, twisted mommy-issue shit right there, Dan.”

“Babe, the only mommy I’m thinking about right now is you.”

“If you start calling yourself ‘daddy’, I swear your balls are getting the chop.”

“Daddy Egan?” He boasts, beams.

“Just my luck.”

[bhadpodcast]

Best Listener

“Best Listener” is a weird superlative to get when you’re a closeted teenager in high school.  Damon was pleased to get it, happy he’d made some sort of mark on his class body, something more permanent than they’d left on him.  But still, it was a weird thing to actually think about.  Best listener could also mean “Most Quiet” which could be construed to mean “Most Often Unheard” or “Most Misunderstood”.  Either way it was a weird thing to contend with, to be called or thought of.

Perhaps though, since he was such a good listener, it’s the reason why Damon was able to pick out the irony in the honor bestowed to him.   And besides, it wasn’t wrong, he was a good listener and his friends now told him all the time.  And there were times he liked to be listened to, but he has his people for that.  So he doesn’t need to talk so much.  Mostly he listens.

“Twitter is weird, right?”  Dylan is lying on his back and Damon is kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around the boy’s thighs as he noses at Dylan’s ballsack and kitten licks his taint.  He’d had to wax for a movie role and kept it up long after wrap just in case of reshoots.  He’d be letting it grow back out soon so this was the last hurrah for a while.  The grow back period was always a special form of fun for Damon.  He liked the prickly wiriness and how the body stubble would feel against his chin, like a lover growing in their beard.  

“I mean, like, Colton and I just had this convo about having Adele’s babies, right?”  Dylan said, running his hand over Damon’s head, gasping lightly as he watches Damon taking one ball into his mouth.  Damon knew the conversation.  The show demanded that each of the cast get and maintain a Twitter account.  Something about it being the future of celebrity/fan interaction and it’d be all the rage, Facebook for the common man!  Interconnectivity within 140 characters!  Damon didn’t know too much about it, just that Ashton Kutcher was hot.

(READ MORE)

Damon doesn’t reply, his mouth is busy anyway, so he continues suckling and waits for Dylan to continue.

“And so like, I’m literally saying that I -a human male- completely lacking of a cervix would have Adele’s baby.  And the number one anatomy question?  My fucking hips!”  At the word hips, Dylan thrusts his slightly.  He looks down at Damon apologetically who just smiles.  Damon lifts up Dylan’s legs, bending them at the knee and reaches his tongue forward to spelunk in Dylan’s sunken place.

“The fucked up thing is that- shit!”  Dylan cuts off as his head goes back and he sighs.  His back is arched and his nipples are starting to pebble.  There’s a tuft of hair regrowing in the middle of his chest.  Damon sneaks a finger through it while the other joins his tongue.  “Fuck, I love when you do that!  I’m totally going to do that when- shit!”  

Damon smiles smugly at the boy who comes down from his bliss rest stop and flips Damon off, grinning devilishly.  

“I’m still a newbie, but I swear when I become a pro, I’m going to fuck you up.”  Dylan says cheekily as he rubs his nipples and glides his hands up and down his sides.  Damon glances into his sparkling eyes and nods.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Dylan laughs in that silent, open mouth thing he does and lays his head back again.

“So anyhow… wait, what were we talking about?”

“I’m going to go with Nothing for $400, Alex.”

“Don’t be a dick, we were fucking talking about… umm, shit!  Fuck, was it Shakira?  Something about hips? “

“You’re so fucking high.”  Damon laughs.  He should know, he’s fucking high as shit too.  Dylan shakes his head first and then thinks better of it, nodding enthusiastically.

“Okay, so yeah, I’m fucking high, but this isn’t weed’s fault, bro!  This is why it’s impossible to have intelligent conversation with a tongue in your ass!”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I’ve had some really cool conversations with your ass.”  Damon quips with a bite to the inside of Dylan’s cheek.  Dylan laughs brightly.

“Woah, really? What about?” He asks, unbothered.  He’s fisting his cock slowly and holding his balls out of the way as Damon tongues around his rim.

“Mostly about what an asshole you are.”  Damon answers with a smacking kiss directly to the boy’s hole.  He looks up and sees Dylan peering down at him shaking his head.

“Damn, I walked right into that, didn’t I?”  

Dylan’s been more open with him lately, about himself, which Damon appreciates.  

“Nah, I’m just that smooth.”  Damon edges his tongue along Dylan’s ring again, this time punctuating the ministration with a light blow of wind from his mouth.  Dylan giggles.

“Yeah, I guess you are.”

“So you were saying something about having Adele’s babies?”  

Dylan nods as though coming back online and grins, partially at Damon’s superior listening skills and partially at the act of his balls being back in Damon’s mouth.

“Yeah!  I was saying the fucked up thing is that as long as it’s a guy and a girl, I can be as outrageous as possible and no one blinks an eye, right?  But like, if I try to apply the logic that in order to be a pregnant male, Adele would have to have a dick, then it’s gay and everyone gets really weird.”

Damon looks up at the boy.

“Dyl, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Dylan laughs again and shrugs,  “Dude, I don’t fucking know!”  He sits up and scoots back to the end of the bed leaning against the headboard.  He motions for Damon to move closer so he’s not on his knees at the end of the bed, instead laying in between Dylan’s legs.  Thoughtful.

“I tried saying something to Hoech about it.”  Dylan’s been more open about talking.. well not exactly about Hoechlin, there are times few and far between he’ll mention his name like this, but about his place on the sexuality spectrum at all.  He’s working through it, Damon can tell.  Trying to figure out what type he is, what he likes, where he fits, if that’s weird.  “I said something later while he and I were at Colton’s -I think you and Dan were hanging out- and I was like,

‘I feel like if Adele did want me to have her babies, she’d be real gentle about getting them into me.  Like, she’d take real good care of me.’

And I remember watching Colton who laughed like he was nervous, but he has that mask thing going on, you know?  And so he’s doing that, but he’s watching Hoech who’s watching the game and just shrugs and says,

‘There’s artificial insemination, bro.’

In that weird, noncommittal way he has, you know?  And like, you could hear a fucking needle drop and that’s when you called and me and Colty met you later.”  

Damon nods (or rather, bobs), remembering the night.  He and Dan had done some shopping for the show and later met up with Colton and Dylan.  They’d gotten gelato and Dylan paid for it.  Damon wasn’t sure why he remembered that.

“And it made me think -and this is where the me being super high part comes in- but like, how can you be gay and not like dick?”

This makes Damon laugh and choke slightly on the cock in his mouth.  Dylan reaches out and instinctively grabs a water bottle from the side table.  Damon waves off his concern, but takes a sip before leaning forward and fake strangling Dylan.  The little imp is still laughing.

“Did that even make sense in your head?!”  Damon yells, poking incessantly at the boy.

“I told you I was fucking high!  But hear me out!”  Dylan pleads, both hands up and his bambi eyes in full defense mode.  

“Okay, so like… what?”

“Okay, I know, but like, everything you can do with a guy, you can also do with a girl, except those things that require a dick, right?”  Dylan tries to look matter-of-fact, but even he knows he sounds ridiculous.

“Well there are strap-ons.”

“Well yeah, but I mean, naturally.  So it would reason-”

“Oh, so we’re using reason now?”

“Bro, shut up!  This is so deep, I promise.”

“Whatever.”  Damon lays his head on Dylan’s chest, thumbing the pouty nipple until it blushes and rounds out.

“It would reason, that if you were a dude and wanting to get up on another dude that it’s because you really like dick, right?”

“Well, I don’t know, Dyll, that might be the thing for you, but I guess, like some dudes like really manly, hair lumberjack dudes and some like them twinky, like you.”

“I’m not a twink!”  Dylan insists, but laughs when Damon looks at him incredulously.

“I’m only hairless because of the movie, it’s growing back in!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“But I’m a top!  Can you be a twink top?”

Damon thinks back to his twink days briefly before shrugging.  “I think it’s different for everyone though.  Like, some gay dudes don’t even like ass.”

“You see?  That’s fucking crazy to me!”  Dylan throws his arms up and ogles at Damon in disbelief, “Like, I’m not one to care all that much about labels, but how can you call yourself a gay dude and not like ass?  I love ass!  I love dick!”

“But you’re not gay.”

“I guess, but I’m pretty fucking close, right?”

Damon cocks a brow, “If Selena Gomez grew a dick you’d be all over that.”

Dylan opens his mouth to debate, but his eyes flick upwards, imagining some pop star abomination and he gapes.  “Holy shit, and a beard!?  Wait, I don’t know.. I think I may like girls for one thing and guys for another?  But like, I wouldn’t be against testing that situation.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”  Damon says shaking his head.  He gathers Dylan into his arms and Dylan runs his hands up and down Damon’s body, pausing only to briefly grip Damon’s inner thigh.

“I don’t want you to tell me if you can’t, but like… is Colton gay?  I never really thought about my gaydar, but I feel like, I could be a good friend to him, if I came out to him, you know?”

Colton was gay, but it wasn’t Damon’s story to tell. Colton’s waited his entire life to be gay and as long as he’s in Hollywood, he’ll wait longer.  The day Dylan mentioned earlier he’d actually called Colton to go to an after party of some guy one of the crew of The Vampire Diaries had met at some gay bar in the city.  Colton mentioned Dylan and they decided instead on gelato.  Weird because Damon knew that Dylan would have loved that party.  But these stories weren’t meant to be told yet.  Damon just shrugs and looks at Dylan knowingly.  Dylan nods and leans over, kissing Damon on the cheek.

“I love that I can talk to you.  You’re such a good listener.”  Dylan traces a finger over Damon’s eyebrows, clearly imagining someone else’s.  Damon sighs.  He’s happy Dylan can talk to him.  He talks to Posey about pussy.  Flirts with Hoechlin about sports.  And he talks boys with Damon’s ass.

“You can always talk to me Dylan.  Or not talk.  Or I can try to make you speechless.”

Dylan’s eyes widen, but then narrow mischievously.  He’s learning how to flirt with them.  He’s a quick study.

“Sooo… I… Can I fuck you again?  Doggystyle?”

“Whatever you want.”  Damon replies, kissing him on the nose.  Dylan quiets, gets contemplative in that way that he has.

“And if I say… if I say.. like, is that okay?  I fucking don’t really want to be an asshole, but is it okay with you that I sometimes say his-”

“Whatever you need, Dylan.  This is about you.”

Dylan looks at him as though a bit skeptical.  Which surprises and only endears Damon more to him.  He realizes he’s not lying.  It really is about whatever the young boy wants and needs, about giving that to him.  He kisses him soundly, their tongues mingling, Dylan’s searching for a memory of what he still thinks he can’t have and Damon’s searching for ways to make real a fantasy.  It works, for a few moments Damon thinks it works though he’s never totally sure when Dylan falls quiet.

Dylan rolls them on the bed and kisses Damon again, holding him to the mattress with a firm hand anchored in the middle of Damon’s chest.  He kisses his neck and then sits up, surveying the land laid out before him.  He signals for Damon to turn over, which he does, and pulls up his hips.  Damon rests his head on his forearms as he hears the click of the lube bottle cap and the rip of the condom wrapper.  Dylan preps him in the sloppy, enthusiastic way that could practically be trademarked and finally enters him, bottoming out quickly and breathing hotly into Damon’s ear.  

Damon can feel the tickle of Dylan’s growing in pubes at the back of his ass and apparently so can Dylan as he reaches back to feel where the two are joined.

“Fuck, that’s so hot.  I wonder what it’ll be like with more hair.  You’re less hairy than, fuck, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“Dylan fucking move!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Dylan pulls out slightly and snaps his hips in again, moaning obscenely, his head planted in the nape of Damon’s neck.  As Dylan finds a rhythm his fingers graze Damon’s hairline in the back, following the ‘V’ it forms.  The only other person on set who gets the V is-

“Hoech! Oh my fucking... Hoech-”  Dylan sputters as he gets lost in whatever fantasy he’s in.  Damon doesn’t bristle, just takes it, thinks of his own fantasies, maybe tries to ignore how Dylan is starting to make more and more of an appearance in them.

Dylan strips Damon until both are coming hard, their sweaty bodies shuddering with release.  Damon knew well enough to put down a towel so he didn’t ruin his bed, and he’s using it now to quickly wipe down them both down as they position themselves shoulder to shoulder.  

Dylan pulls out a cigarette and lights it, taking a puff before passing it to Damon.  He gets it back and watches the revolutions of the ceiling fan above them.

“Speaking of beards… they.. they set up another date with that girl I told you about.”

Damon doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t really have to.  Mostly he listens.

[myjustgaypages-blog]

Bent over my car

OP: White, 23 years old at the time, about 5'9" / 170lbs, brown/blonde hair, green eyes, broad shoulders, athletically built as a runner/cyclist, and an undeniably nice ass that is firm and round but not quite a "bubble but". I was never super toned or ripped, but I was fit and you could tell by looking me over. I have dimples when I smile and a pointed jawline. I have never really had a gag reflex so oral has always been a fun for me, and became an obsession. I loved seeing how long I can let a guy face-fuck me until I have to stop to breathe. My dick is just about 6 inches and a little thicker than average. I have always been told I have big balls as well and my sack tends to hang pretty low. I don’t like having body hair so I shave everything from my pubes to my chest and more. In bed I tend to be very submissive and let guys I’m with really take advantage of me.

Brenton: Black, 19 years old, about 5’9” / 140lbs, dark curly hair, brown eyes, a tight chest, a solid 6-pack and an ass you could bounce a coin off of. He was bashful and a little reserved at first but once we got started he changed and was definitely the person in control of the situation. He was a pretty twinky guy but was also rigidly handsome with a lighter, but deep brown skin tone. He had a dick at least as thick around as a cucumber and about 6.5 inches. It was an intimidating dick, though I had been with bigger guys at this point in my life. I did not get the sense he was super experienced when we hooked up but the way he fucked seemed a little too sure of himself to be a newbie.

I was bored. It was Saturday and I had no plans. My roommate was gone and had told me she’d be sleeping at her parents’ house that night. My friends all worked so I was on my own. I had recently started to come into my own and was a regular feature on Grindr, though I still wasn’t out to anyone but my roommate and close friends. I didn’t hook up *a lot* because men are so damn flakey online but I was always on the hunt. I scrolled to Brenton, who shared his face as his profile picture and was pretty responsive. We sent each other “dirty” pictures pretty quickly and clicked. When I first saw his dick I became infatuated. I’d never been with a black guy on top of everything else, but I practically salivated at the sight of his tight body and impressive piece. I loved the idea that he blew me away in both size and had better muscle definition. I needed him. I told him my house was empty and I was down to do anything. We discussed just me giving him head but that quickly turned into “I want to fuck you”, and who was I to say no?

Brenton needed a ride so I drove 6-7 miles across town to pick him up. The car-ride back was awkwardly quiet but I tried to help break that down by greeting with “hey handsome”. He smiled sort of bashfully and didn’t stop me when I put my hand on his thigh while I drove. We were in my 2010 Mustang and he complimented it. Off to a good start! He let me leave my hand on him so I worked my way to his crotch and rubbed him…feeling him get semi-hard and letting out a moan. He reclined back in the seat while we waited to arrive at my place.

As I pulled down my street my heart sank. The lights were on and there were 2-3 cars parked out front. My roommate must have come back home after all!

Thinking quickly, I told him “okay, she wasn’t supposed to be home but we’ll figure something out man...what do you think?”

“Why not pull into the garage?”

I mean, why not? I did what he said and as the door closed behind us we sat in silence for a moment. I told him my roommate would surely have seen me get home, so I was going to go inside, pretend to fall asleep in my room and then sneak out my window to get to the garage. He said he’d wait but to be quick. I left him my car keys so he had the radio, thinking that I probably shouldn’t leave this kid in my car with my keys but I was in a tunnel-vision mindset and after his dick so I justified it to myself. As I got out of the car he slid his athletic pants off and revealed his boxer shorts and semi-hard dick breaking out of the center hole. He looked at me, smiled, and said he’d be waiting for me. I leaned over and put him in my mouth, tasting my first black dick and all but smiling with excitement. He felt as thick as he looked and that’s when I realized he was bigger than I was used to. This was going to be fun!

As I walked into the house I realized my roommate had a few girlfriends over. She apologized and said they decided to hangout here and play board games. I told her not to worry but that I was tired and heading to bed, quickly escaping the conversation because I knew what was waiting for me back in my car.

I made a show of going to the bathroom and turned off my lights. I quietly opened my window. I grabbed my only tube of lube, a pillow, and a towel. As I made my escape out the ground level window I carefully closed the window and snuck around the house. As I entered the garage via the side-door I found Brenton shirtless in his boxers sitting in the driver’s seat. He smiled at me and turned sideways out of the mustang and spread his legs for me. I put the pillow on the ground and got on my knees.

“that’s right … yeah man … fuck yes”

After a moment of sliding his cock in and out of my face, I pulled off and tugged on his boxers, asking him to take them off. When he did I found his ballsack loosely hanging over the edge of the leather seat and couldn’t help but swallow it and lick it. He was looking down at me the whole time and encouraging me to keep going. He got fully hard and I was really struggling to fit his thickness into my throat, so he gently pushed me down on it and told me to “stay down on it” once or twice. H wasn’t forcing me down on him but it was clear that he was taking over our little hookup.

“Want to fuck me?”

“yeah bro…bend over the seat”

Brenton got out of the car lackadaisically and I obediently put my torso onto the driver’s seat and slid down my shorts (free-balling that nightJ) and revealed my toned ass and half-hard dick as it hung between my legs. It was a really awkward position because of the height of the car and I was struggling to hold there, so I wound up getting on all fours and putting my ass out of the open (driver’s side) door.

The first thing he did was grab my dick and balls in one tight handful and gently tugged me towards him. I winced in pain but he definitely noticed my dick lurch and get harder as he man-handled me, literally. I had crossed the line and became his.

He released me when I was positioned how he wanted me and stroked my dick a few times, asking where I put the lube. I had forgotten! While I was bent over in my own car I told him it would be by the pillow I’d left on the ground. He found it and I heard a squeeze that meant the tube was close to empty. Fuck! I heard him chuckled and felt his fingers as he rubbed a small amount onto me. I heard another squeeze of the tube as I lay face down over my center console and heard him rubbing his cock and getting ready.

He pushed into my hole firmly but he was thick enough that I just couldn’t open up quickly to take it. After a few attempts he told me to relax and I said “this isn’t gonna work, I can’t stay like this”.

He muttered “fuck man” and stepped back to let my naked ass out of the car. I immediately turned and pushed him back towards the garage wall to suck his dick some more. He instinctively grabbed my hair and started putting more and more pressure on me. I wrapped my hands around his ass and squeezed it as a way of signaling him to use me.

I swallowed the sweet-tasting lube and he started fucking my face like a fleshlight, forcing me to open wide and take him balls deep. His cock was straight as an arrow and it was pretty difficult to take – like I was hitting the back of my throat with each thrust. After several minutes of me drooling over him he pulled me off one more time and pulled me up. He grabbed both or dicks and held them together, rubbing my saliva on both of us and gently rubbing them. I looked down and saw how he sized up to me. He made me look small – his fully engorged, throbbing dick was twice as thick as me and at least an inch longer. I immediately knew my place and I saw him smirk at me. He knew what was going through my head.

“You’re so big man”

“Yeah I am … you like that don’t you? Most people get nervous. You good?”

“I’m good.”

He let us go and turned me around, rubbing my still lubed up hole with his piece and dry-humping me. I shivered in pleasure as I felt his girth over my crack and reaching up to my back with each thrust. A promise of how deep I was going to get it. The thought made me instinctively clench my ass.

He started pushing me towards the car so I walked forward and bent over the side …. He said “no bro, over here" and guided me to the front of the car and the hood.

He was going to fuck me bent over the front of my car.

In a sort of trance, I laid my head on the metal of the hood and waited…hearing another desperate squeeze off the lube which was clearly now empty. I told myself it was okay and that lube or not, I was going to let him fuck me.

“this is empty man ... but I got a little”

Next, he really started using me. He found my hole with his fingers and then I felt his tip probing me slowly, finding the spot and immediately pushing. I winced and put my hands on the hood of the car, feeling the whole mustang move a little with the push. This hurt.

I bit my lip and spread my legs more. He started saying things like “that’s right ... open up for me ... you can take it bro ... I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna take it”

Like a spell, he opened my up with those words and while it still hurt like hell I knew it was time... but I didn’t expect him to shove himself balls deep with one solid thrust! I yelped as he forcefully drove his shaft into me. I think I said “slow down for me” but I’m honestly not sure if words came out.

I said it was one thrust but this wasn’t a fast one like you see in fake porn. This was a long, hard, inch by inch push that had me on the verge of crying. I was instinctively trying to pull away but since I was bent over my car there was nowhere to go. I just had to take what he was giving me. This is what I liked. I needed it to hurt. I told myself I was happy there wasn’t more lube as he slowly took my body over and marked me as his bitch. What little lube was on my ass had done hardly anything to help.

By the time he got in deep I had gone limp and had accepted what this was going to feel like. I agreed to let him fuck me so I wasn’t going to stop him. I felt his balls against me and exhaled and winced. His hands were firmly on my hips and he smacked my right ass cheek when he finished pushing, his dick throbbing in massive pulses which hurt even more. He held it there, telling me “you’re good man ... you took it ... hold me in…” as each throb made me moan in painful pleasure. As he slid back out of me it started feeling better, and with each inch he pulled out he would push back in… two inches out…one inch of thrust … he did this a few times before taking his hands of my hips. I propped my ass up higher and he started pulverizing me.

The car was rocking back and forth and my skin was stuck with sweat to the metal of the hood. Brenton had a fire in him now and I felt like he was using a jackhammer on my ass. He moaned and slapped my ass a few times, and eventually bent himself over my back and had his hand on my head... whispering into my ear that I was taking it good and he was getting close, panting harshly. I reached back and grabbed his ass cheeks, pulling him deep and asking for it harder.

“fuck me, put it deep in me, fuck me harder!”

I started pumping my ass on his cock, in sheer ecstasy as I felt him digging so deep in me that I felt my soul leaving. This man was IN me. I felt a surge of something and felt my own dick throbbing as gobs of cum shot out onto the car. He had made me cum without even touching myself!

Then I felt a warm waterfall inside me as he busted his nut. His dick throbbed to an even thicker girth as he did and all I could feel after that was his shaft destroying any tightness left in my ass.

He held it for what felt like a minute as he panted and came down. I was drenched in sweat and limp as a doll, completely used up and drained. I slowly pushed myself up, peeling off of the metal of the hood of my car and realized my legs were shaking. I could barely stand.

He sighed, slapped my ass for good measure apparently, and walked to his clothes. I needed it more than him but I stumbled my way to the towel and tossed it to him. He wiped his cock and body then gave it back for me to use. I was still quivering and full of his load when he said he should probably get back home.

Honestly, I needed a minute…so I got on my knees and put his dick in my mouth one last time to clean him off … he still tasted like cum and I reveled in it. Puling me off, he walked to the passenger side and got in the car. I was still naked and shamefully pulled my shorts up, knowing his load was slowly leaking out of my hole and I was about to make a mess of my seat.

The ride home was quiet and he reclined the seat back and rested. As he got out I asked for his snapchat and we added each other … and I asked him if we could meet again sometime. He just smiled as said “if you wanna give it up again we can”.