#dave the dummy

[speedstar1642]

A bunch of daily art that I’ve made over the first 10 days of the year!

Character Credits:

Hikaru Hoshi, Hasshack: Me

Toothpick: @zitoisneato / @zitoisart-blog

Susumu Hori: Bandai Namco

Dandy: @dandyart

Dust & Ashes: Team Reptile (VA: @/grimmjack)

Dave, Hyena, Iso, and Outlaw: @faraamdraws

Kirby: Nintendo/Hal Laboratory

Spade: @/spadetheskeleton

[hotfuss]

the killers in dummy magazine, autumn 2006

[musickickztoo]

CONTRA2024-12

24082024 (ALL NEW)

TRACKLIST: Osees - Termination Officer Dave's Doors Of Perception - Can't Explain Citric Dummies - Trapped In A Parking Garage Christopher Owens - No Good Booji Boys - More Is Taken Weak Signal - Rich Junkie Twisted Teens - Rando Straight Arrows - It's Clear Amyl and the Sniffers - Chewing Gum Fake Fruit - Más O Menos Mark Lanegan - Pure Religion The Smile - Don't Get Me Started Peter Perrett - I Wanna Go With Dignity Flat Worms - Letters From The Outpost Color Green - God In A $ Cowgirl - Wake Up Outtacontroller - I Got Mine Peace De Résistance - You Are Absurd Billiam - My Metronome Booji Boys - Hotline Alan Sparhawk - Get Still

The 12th playlist of the year!!

Listen: https://www.mixcloud.com/Contraflow/contra2024-12-24082024-all-new/

[star-crossed-lizards]

i think at this point homestuck is supposed to be interpreted basically however you want but i just saw someone get it so wrong that i got mad and blocked them. they probably think chocolate milk comes from brown cows

[thekylemeredith]

Tonight I'll be hanging with Dave Pirner to talk about the new #SoulAsylum album, Slowly But Shirley!

Crash Test Dummies and Drew Holcomb will also be dropping in, and it's #TheMunsters for TV In The Radio.

6p ET on 91.9 WFPK

[autumnrory]

one thing i hate swifties doing and like, does not help their case or taylor's ever, is diminishing another person's talent/success, particuarly other artists, just because they were at all shady towards taylor like. idk a person can be an asshole and still be talented! and going on about how they're not as successful as taylor is the same shit antis do when they're saying "oh taylor can't break this record" or whatever shit like. you are just being annoying

[king-system]

Plural Ask Game:

4, 5, 23

-Salt/Agony

YIPPEEE THANK YOU -Dmitri

4. Are there any activities your system members like to do together? Collective hobbies? Talk about those!

Watching shows, movies, and playing games. Malachi and I have been playing Baldur's Gate 3 lately, and Chrissy, Robin, Eddie, and Evie like Mario Kart with our wife. Also, when people wanna go on dates, they usually just watch a movie.

5. What sort of music do people in your system like?

Me and Malachi are really into goth lately, me, Eddie, and Chrissy all like metal. Dave and Inferno like rap more than anyone else. Rez and Andy are EMOOOO. We usually base our music taste on vibe though and not genre. Like Dirk just likes. Sad. lmao

23. Do you have any cool/funny stories from inside the headspace that you’d like to share?

Uhhh a lot of the funny ones are people getting together. Like Dave trying all day to ask out Daisy but just couldn't make himself do it so she finally just kissed them lmao. Or when Chrissy was dropping hints to Robin for weeks that she liked him and he just was too worried he was reading it wrong. OH AND Cloud making Inferno guess who he liked (it was Inferno) with a deadline for Christmas before giving up and just kissing him. They are all fools, its great.

Smaller ones might be things like. Karlach begging Astarion to have matching avatars and every time Dave came to front just to annoy Dirk out of moping and when Cloud taught Roxy how to cook.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about. 

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand. 

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down. 

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them. 

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips. 

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne. 

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?” 

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer. 

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean. 

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream. 

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth. 

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to. 

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even. 

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily. 

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment. 

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy. 

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes. 

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp. 

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match. 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy. 

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed. 

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on. 

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants. 

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[thewertsearch]

TG: only trolls say theyre six i dont know whats up with you and that dumb fake age […] AA: i am 6 sweeps old one sweep is a little more than 2 years you dummy!

She’s still so chipper, and I love it. We haven't seen this side of Aradia since way back in the FLARP arc, shortly before she died. It really contributes to the sense that she's been reborn.

TG: im gonna shut off my phone now cya AA: yes AA: thats definitely what you did the first time we had this conversation

Dream bubble it is.

Jade showed up here because her dream self is dead - but as far as we know, Dream Dave is perfectly fine. Did Jack do another murder offscreen?

TG: oh sup TG: looks like youre a fairy AA: yeah TG: thats cool

TG: this wasnt the suit i was wearing

TG: it was this ugly fucking rag […] TG: and i went to take a nap TG: terezi said id reach god tier TG: or i guess show me why i wouldnt

Oh, it’s that Dave! I’d assumed he'd been completely written out of the story when Jack slit his throat and ruined Terezi's day.

So these bubbles also collect the ghosts of non-Alpha versions of the characters, provided they died in the Alpha Timeline. We might also be meeting the Dave who was killed by DD - and I'm sure there's a bubble somewhere just filled to the brim with Aradiabots.

TG: then this isnt a memory or a dream at all […] AA: it is the afterlife AA: but what is happening now is taking place in a bubble which is accessible to the living through dreams under the right conditions […] AA: the entry point for any bubble is always a memory

So from now on, every flashback could potentially mutate into a dream bubble - but at the same time, everything we see before the mutation is an actual memory, that really happened. It's incredibly convoluted, and I am totally here for it.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 46

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Dave York

Pitch Black - Dave series by @whataperfectwasteoftime

Dave York is a DIA operative by day, and a contract killer by night. When he has a chance encounter with an innocent bystander on the stairs and chooses to save her from a band of rival mercenaries, will he be able to stop himself from getting too involved?

Gun mention, references to murder, blood, mercenaries, implied violence, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV sex (they did have the talk but it was AFTER and pls don’t do that)

Under False Pretenses - Dave series by @joelalorian

A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap but I imagine a lil' baby one of about 5 to 10 years. Soft, yet sexy and intense Dave, several twists, Russian spy ring causing trouble, action, angst, deception, fluff, humor, a puppy(!), a variety of SMUT. Mentions of cancer and being a widower. No use of y/n. Dave will give reader a nickname based on his perception of her. First handful of chapters are a slow burn, then it's game on! Individual chapters will have specific warnings when applicable.

Yes Ma'am - Dave one shot by @sizzlingcloudmentality

life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV

Dave/Others

Looking - Marcus P/Dave one shot by @mothandpidgeon

Although you're married, Marcus Pike takes you up on your proposition. Your husband, Dave, doesn't mind if you sleep with other men...if he can watch.

voyeurism, oral sex, (highly unadvisable) unprotected sex, cum play, threesome, spanking

Dieter Bravo

Movin' in a technicolor beat - Dieter one shot by @quinnnfabrgay-writes

Dieter comes in your mouth. You come in his. You make out. That's the plot.

straight up smut, oral (both), fingering, gratuitous cum worship, cum play

Din Djarin

Prisoner - Din series by @almostempty

this time our fav bounty hunter is the bounty and you're on a mission to capture him and claim your reward

my interpretation of pre-canon younger din djarin aka as they said in the 1991 action/thriller classic Point Break he's "young, dumb, and full of cum" aka moody reckless and virile din, some canon typical violence, one (1) tranquilizer injected by needle, dirty talkin' din, bulge riding, opposite of a virgin kink if u squint? mayhaps a filthy whore kink? (dubcon to come in part two bc of course i would, sub!din djarin will also be coming in part two)

Din/Others

Breaking Down Walls Din/Dio one shot by @crowandmousewritingco (mouse)

Dio doesn't lose fights, but what happens when he does.

dio gets his ass beat, emotions, fluff

At his side (in his bed) - Din/Paz one shot by @hauntedhowlett

They call you the whore of Mandalore. Nothing more than the woman at side of the ruler of New Mandalore, Din Djarin, a pretty little prize that he likes to share with with his General Commander, Paz Vizsla. Mandalorians have always been good at keeping their secrets.

explicit language, writer considers din his first name, alternate universe - Mand’alor din djarin, use of Mando’a, threesome (MFM), degradation kink, pet names (sweet AND derogatory), explicit breeding kink, spitroasting, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), come play, semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, bratty reader, fingering, no plot just smut.

Frankie Morales

She comes first - Frankie series by @just-here-for-the-moment

You're on the hunt for a man to dom and you come across Frankie

Femdom; Frankie is brand new to SSC (safe/sane/consensual) BDSM; characters drink alcohol; curse words and vulgar language (all the good stuff you expect from one of my smutfics); eventual smut; lots and lots and lots of talking about BDSM limits (but I tried to make it hot).

Frankie/Others

Non-standard Issue - Frankie/Ezra one shot by @bonezone44

Ezra and Frankie stay behind while the other Triple Frontier boys go out.

D/s, bondage, lacy undies, oral (m), lovingly degrading dirty talk (Ezra is a mess)

Javier Peña

A New Year's Distraction - Javi P one shot by @lotusbxtch

Javi doesn't realize that you've got a surprise waiting for him at home.

PWP let’s be real lol, secret established relationship, foul language, (1) suggestive note, mentions of food and alcohol, foodplay, consumption of alcohol, mention of masturbation, brief masturbation, brief sex toy usage, spitting, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up people), creampie, (1) pussy slap, Spanish nicknames and phrases, (1) use of the word 'slut' (but Reader is into it)

Without a Reward - Javi P one shot by @pedgito

Javier's a creature of habit, a man of opportunity, and you were unlucky enough to find him when he's at his most desperate.

informant!reader, set through beginning of season 3 narcos to end, angst, smut, involvement with the cali cartel, paying for info and sex, javier's a gentleman i swear, gratuitous smut, jealous!javi, protected/unprotected piv, creampies, oral (f receiving), some vague violence toward the end, happy ending

Javi P/Others

Baby, I'm-a Want You - Javi/Joel series by @pertovar

javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where javier and joel are gay porn stars~

unprotected p in a, oral, fingering, ass eating, use of plugs, gay terminology (bear, twink, etc), handjobs, blowjobs, swearing, smoking

Joel Miller

My paramour, my evermore - Joel one shot by @schnarfer

Joel Miller is the loss of your life

Knights and Kings AU, sort of GOT adjacent but no dragons, VERY heavy on the angst, infidelity (reader is married & there are mentions of her children), grown up Sarah, allusion to smut, Joel miller’s filthy mouth, mentions of death, so much longing, a kiss. Always fleabag coded.

Teacher's Pet - Joel one shot by @javiscigarette

25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help.

PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet

That's the way road dogs do it - Joel series by @joelsdagger

on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past.

[no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story

BDSMaid - Joel series @mountainsandmayhem

After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap between Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Note: Reader is fully described to be a small white girl with freckles, but she is unnamed and the story is in second person. It's worth the read even if you don't fit that description, IMO

[pancakepieman25]

Gifts I'm Giving Out

My daughter Art: Socks, a pet rock, two pounds of salt blessed by the god Geytl, A portable DVD player, WALL-E on DVD with extra content, a 20 gaude shotgun, a few candles, a dream catcher, a G.I.Joe action figure, a suit that I stole from some rich prick, a suitcase full of "fake" money, The Blues Brothers on DVD, a couple of shotgun shells, and a baseball cap.

Gabe: A card saying "Find a healthy hobby, and I hope your transition goes well," a cook book, a pack of smokes, a book about addiction, and a German style clock that is counterclockwise.

Pixy: A new car, and a MP40.

Zai: A mug saying "Best Mother" with an added thing on the side of it in marker, "Please don't hurt me."

Ell: Screw you

Waffle: A ticket to an Asylum, and an "Adult content" addiction group. And yes I have the police coming for you at this moment.

Daisy: A rock

Ultra: Paint supplies I random found in a car.

Unpleasant: A week supply of mac and cheese, a cook book, and 30 bucks.

Max: A note book, a pen, a candle, 30 different rituals and a lighter.

Cin: Beef jerky, six pounds of beef, a chicken (Alive, I call her Ted), 5 pounds of seeds, and pet toys.

Embro: A Luger I found in a rich prick house, a box of nails, a 2x4, hammer, a German World War II helmet, some gold coins and a pack of cigarettes.

Jesse: A DVD with of all of the episodes of Jessie (Use for only torture or boredom), a fine set of cigars I found from a rich prick, gold plated lighter, and a picture of a dog smoking a old timey pipe.

Rose: A book of how to win wars and meet people.

Radiohead: Another fine suit I stole from rich prick, a random book I found in German, and a pocket knife.

Cult (Sorry I forgot your new name): A book call "Maria on the Moon," another is "Stolen Tongues," and reading glasses.

Grat:

Lenora: A lantern (Heard you have a moth problem), a fish tank with a living habitat in it, and a book about bugs.

Seth: A plush of a yellow lookin' rat (From this series call Poke e men), a box of crayons, socks, and a dummy (His name is Billy).

Nore: A gold coin, a knife I'm pretty sure was used to skin cows (I don't know where I got it), Some flowers, flowerpots, and a watering can. (Yes, I stole from my old job, and no I don't regret it.)

Foolerene: A painting of a beautiful tree and barn house, an magical eyeball (Use when sick), and an ancient stone carver.

Cookie Star: A butter knife, and some swimming goggles.

Huzzah!!!: A gun (I don't really know you, don't worry, it's a glock 18)

Chip: A box of C4, baking trays, cookie cook book, and a wooden roller that I heard can do the job for you, but never seen it happen.

Unus: This German tank model, and this (I'm pretty sure is) 1940s German propaganda.

Rainbowxocs: A bunch of horror stories, a lamp, another fine suit, and a rock.

Lancia: A sword, bow, a bunch of arrows, a horse named Pal, and a picture of a rock.

Midnight Moon: Two tickets to a Dave Matthews Band show, bandage, a plush of a seal, and a life size model of a seal.

Xuan: A typewriter that is in German, a gold plated pen, and a whole lot of letters.

Art's mother: A session with a group of parents that abuse their kids, I know that this seems mean and a joke, but I want you to do better for your kid. Please go to it, Art needs her mother.

[beanpodz]

This is pointless but here’s what I would have done for each member of the umbrella academy during season 4:

1. Luther would still be a dancer in this for me but he wouldn’t live at the academy. He’d live with an elderly old man that he helps to take care of in exchange for a room. I want Luther obsessing over a father figure in every season. Sue me. His room would be full of abandoned hobbies (think knitting needles, a guitar with a broken string, a bookshelf filled with *blank* for dummies books). He’d have spent the last few years trying to discover who he is. Besides all of his hobbies he’d have a whole section of his wall dedicated to finding Sloane. If we couldn’t get the actress maybe we have a quick photo of her married to someone else or have that be discovered in the plot. I don’t necessarily think Luther has to have a happy ending with Sloane but he could have it in terms of getting over his daddy issues and discovering who he is as a person. He puts a lot of effort into his family (especially sparrow Ben) through out the season but he able to become a figure outside of his family this season.

2. Diego’s whole deal before this point is vengeance and vigilantism. The life of a UPS worker is so far removed from this but I’d keep it. I’d really want to highlight that this is something Diego does because he thinks this is what he has to do to be a family man. I’d also spend a lot more time this season on his family. Like him cooking breakfast or something while Lila (who I’ll come back to) is dealing with the twins while looking ready to pull her hair out. Lila’s parents would also have a lot more to do to. Maybe they nitpick Diego or maybe Diego isn’t sure how to behave around his new family that actually seems to be healthy. I’d also keep his lil dad gut but I wouldn’t make it a point of humor. It’d just be a thing to highlight the image of the dad he is. His storyline this season would deal with him wanting to be something (a father, a husband) while not really knowing how to do this and still having dreams of his previous life of excitement and action. Also would show drama with Lila and him navigating their new lives and maybe not in the healthiest way at first.

3. Allison would still be attempting to be an actress. But she would be hyper vigilant of Claire. She fought so hard and betrayed her whole family to get back to her. She might even be overbearing. Her emotional arc this season would have a lot to do with learning to allow Claire to become her own person. I also would have included Ray because he would NEVER just walk out but if we can’t get the actor I think maybe I would have killed him off (I’m sorry). Maybe the realization that her new timeline is not perfect helps to enforce the idea into her that Claire is not invulnerable. We’d also spend a lot more time talking about this. Ray would have a picture on her bedside table and maybe her and Luther could have some closure by talking about their loved ones. She would also have to work a lot harder to gain acceptance from her family.

4. Klaus’s would NOT get his powers back so early in the season. We would also not have any of his plot from the real season beyond the fact that he is now a hypochondriac. I really liked that detail. I liked Uncle Klaus loving Claire to death and them both learning to enter the big scary world would be a staple in his season 4 arc. Klaus would definitely talk about Dave more too. He’s so afraid of losing others because of his loss of Dave but he still has these worries about his own death. This could be his big moment this season. Him having to accept his powers, despite his sobriety and fear, in order to save his family in some way. The choice should be his. It would be his ultimate sacrifice and it would finish off his arc in a more satisfying way that doesn’t leave him as someone incapable of saving himself or others. We could also get his ghost army and levitation. As a treat.

5. I would have kept Five as a teenager. He’d be 17 at most and having to live with one of the other siblings (I’m leaning towards Luther). He’s ‘homeschooled’ at this point and spends his time trying to find inaccuracies in the timeline that could suggest another end of days. He’s obsessed with the apocalypse and a safe world can never feel safe for him. Lila still does not like or trust Five because of what he did to her parents in the OG timeline. But because he and Lila are still searching for danger (for different reasons) they end up attending the Keeper meetings together. The whole subway things happens but NOT the romance or the choosing to stay. Instead they both go through the timelines trying to solve the end of the world and we spend like 2 whole episodes on this. They see the apocalypse again. Five gets soft over Delores. Lila sees what Five went through to get back to his family. To save Diego. They eventually learn to see each other as family. And they’re only gone for a year before they both find the Five Deli. They’re dirty, injured, and have just spent the last year trying to get back and save they’re family. They do NOT accept the other five telling them to just die and give up. Maybe Five contemplates but now that Lila and Five are bonded and besties (please I just want friendship from them) she is able to convince to try ‘one more time old timer’. They get an exit found by another five and find a way to save the world (need more thought on how). Also after the world ends and Five no longer has a purpose like before, he finds a new one in his family and this adorable ( absolutely ugly) little dog that was eating trash in an alley.

6. Ben would still have been a crypto scammer because I love that. It’s sparrow Ben so there is still a huge disconnect from him and the rest of the family. I don’t think he gets a romance with Jennifer but he meets her. And it’s learned that Jennifer is not of this timeline but was in a squid that came from another one. I’m thinking the squid is what lives inside Ben and it’s escape is what killed him ( not the dumb as hell thing that really happened). The squid eats Jennifer as she is a hostage in whatever situation (mission by the beach idk) but she is one of the other 43 kids. She has powers similar to Viktor in the way that they are world destroying. The fact that she from another timeline is what gives her extra interest to Jean and Gene. Ben begins to gets realize he’s not exactly a great person compared to Umbrella Ben but begins to bond with them over the course of the season. Also the jar isn’t given to the umbrella academy by David Cross (already forgot his characters name) but instead found by Jean and Gene in the opening scene. They intend to give it to Jennifer once they get to her but instead are intercepted by five and Lila. Maybe they give it to Jennifer at a meeting as a ritual and Five steals it and takes it to the family. Now Jean and Gene are after them and they know Jennifer is gonna end the world. Plot with lots of moments for cool fight scenes and music numbers.

7. Viktor could be living Canada still. He still feels so isolated from the family that he struggles to be around them. I like the joke of him being someone incapable of maintaining a relationship but we know he could do it with Sissy so I would instead have him have a rocky relationship with a girl who maybe also isn’t in the healthiest spot. Since Viktor doesn’t get kidnapped in this version, his trouble involves introducing the new girl to his family and not knowing how to navigate these two worlds that have always been separate in his life. He gets to play violin still too because that was such a big thing in the comics and the violin is something that he learns to harness his powers with once they get their powers back. For what seems like the first time, Viktor isn’t ending the world but saving it. And he is fighting with his family as a powerful unit. Think early scene in s2 where they all realize their full potential.

8. Lila is struggling with her new life. She has a family, her parents, and a calm life. It was supposed to be a life only meant for her dreams but she finds it dull. Diego is showing off a facade of being happy in this life so she doesn’t want to talk about how it’s affecting her. She forms a tentative truce with five when she gets a dose of excitement by involving herself with the keepers. When she realizes she is once again in an apocalypse situation she has conflicting feelings about what this means for her and her family. She wholeheartedly joins five on the subway adventure not realizing how long it would be before she could see her family again. She bonds with Five and they both commiserate about loving their family so much but not knowing if they will ever have the ability to be happy. Her arc revolves around finding equilibrium between her two worlds and saving the world with Five. Someone she now sees as family and who she knows would do anything to save her because she’s family. She and Diego would talk and learn they both have issues with their new lives but they are dedicated to helping each other find what the other needs to at least be content. She also doesn’t ever cheat on Diego and the little Greek guy comment makes her laugh so hard she almost pees.

[djdolleyes]

sundogs - talk about a moment in the show that interests you most

Literally anything related to Jopson or Hickeygibson LOL.

But to narrow it down, I must talk about the whole jopzier role reversal caring for thing because it is actually insane how much I think about it (yeah no shit dummy you posted a few analyses on it)

It was sooo pivotal to me because of how established it is that like Crozier and Jopson are seperately very private people. Crozier isolates himself by means of being blunt and not rlly tiptoeing around his words so often as others in positions like his do. Jopson isolates himself to better adapt to duty, as with what Liam said about how he feels he must be the best possible steward he can be.

But even so they’re deeply centered around people. Crozier loves his men so goddamn much the show talks about it multiple times. And Jopson is centered and revolves around Crozier.

So to have these moments of shared vulnerability, an exchange as Dave K. put it here was so interesting to me. Crozier may be close with many officers, and hell who knows what Blanky has seen of him— but Crozier was laid completely bare for Jopson and Jopson in return.

The difference in how in this instance of recovery, Jopson is the exception for Crozier and how Crozier is the standard for Jopson.

The difference in how Jopson caring for Crozier like this is the standard and Crozier caring for Jopson is the exception.

It’s roles being reversed!

Crozier is a not so typical captain, prone to drink and fits of anger. Jopson is a typical steward, only a little less typical due to how “perfect” he is. But Crozier cares for his men deeply on the inside so much like a true captain and Jopson has issues of internalized rage and perversions and turmoils which makes him “less of a steward” to himself and others if they knew.

So Jopson feels himself a burden for letting Crozier look after him and care for him but Crozier sees it as an honor almost of repaying his dues. They don’t love normally the poor guys.

DAVE K. WORDS ⬇️

[risingshine]

"Hey, Chi! I brought the rotisserie chicken I told you about!" said Colette, walking into her shrine with a carryout bag labeled "Dave's Philly Rotisserie." Though Chiasa was a dignified kami, Colette whistled to summon her.

Chiasa seemed to be busy of her own when Colette found her - surrounded by makeshift training dummies, all of them charred with their heads knocked off - except for the one she was working on.

As her usual kata, sh ewould do her best to do her work - one-two-three! But as she does, her step moves off, causin gher to slip: and as she tries to catch her fall, she grabs the head of the dummy and tears it off as she hits the ground hard.

Now laid flat on her back she groaned, tossing hte head away - more downtrodded than hurt. Hearing the woman call her, she shouted back.

"Hey! I'm over here!"

[chloessleepystories]

Sisters part 14 - Endgame

Do you want to lick my pussy …

Chloe had spent more than an hour now listening to the song too. First in her own room, while finishing another project, and writing a number 5 and a short note on a piece of masking tape. Then, reclining in various positions near her sister’s door, alternating with checking in on her parents in the living room, and watching them for a while.

“Lydia, bend over. All fours, on the floor. Helen? Get underneath. I’m going to fuck your sister, and you’re going to suck on her nipples, and lick her clit, and if you’re a good girl, you can lick my cock as it pounds into her cunt. And you’re both going to love it. Aren’t you?”

It was so engrossing watching her father. Listening to him give commands ...

Chloe returned to Kenzie’s door, waiting. What had her life become? Babysitting a bunch of sluts, who were mindlessly enjoying their pleasures without cares … while she still carried the stress of the world … Who’s the real dummy? she thought, and giggled.

Giggly makes you horny, she thought. Horny makes you giggly, she told herself. And giggled again.

*click*

“Chloe?”

She leapt to her feet as her sister slowly emerged from her bedroom. Kenzie was so beautiful, she thought. Her mouth was so full, and soft. Her eyes so wide and trusting. And her breasts … Chloe licked her lips.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Kenzie.

And Chloe enfolded her, all in an instant, their bodies melting into each other, her hands all over her sister’s back, in her hair, as their lips met, their tongues entwined, and Chloe’s mind saw sparks and flashes in every color before going completely white as their kiss stretched on and on in its passion and love …

They fell to the floor, Kenzie moaning loudly as her big sister kissed her way down her belly and feasted on her dripping pussy, there in the hallway outside their rooms.

Kenzie howled as the first orgasm ripped through her, then lunged to tackle her sister, straddling her face as she dove into Chloe’s cunt in a frantic, sloppy 69 …

They were, finally, such devoted sisters …

Some time later, panting and a little rug burned, Chloe took her sister’s face in her hands. “Look at me,” she said tenderly. “Are you OK?”

Kenzie nodded, smiling somewhat vacantly.

“I’ve made you happy?”

Her sister’s eyes welled up. She nodded again.

“Good.” She nipped Kenzie’s lower lip with her teeth. “I need you to tell me something. Can you do that? I need to counteract what I think is about to happen with Daddy, and it’s the only thing I can think of. I need to hear something, and I need it to stick, and I think the only way it will … is if it comes from you. I’m absolutely devoted to you, you know … Can you do that for me?”

She stared deep into her sister’s trusting, mindless, cow-like, loving eyes …

You think you can resist but whyyy …

The sisters walked into the living room, hand in hand. Both were naked now. Kenzie still wore the purple panties, but it was Chloe who now wore the collar, the leash lying gently down her back, bouncing against her butt with every step.

The house was silent, except for the grunting from Dave as he rammed himself again and again into Helen’s abused cunt. Lydia was passed out on the carpet nearby. As they walked in, he looked up, pulled out, and turned to them, dripping with sweat, his shiny cock bouncing. Both girls couldn’t take their eyes off it.

“I’ve got Kenzie, Daddy.”

He chuckled in his throat, and his eyes gleamed. His jaw hung slack, and he barely seemed to recognize them as his own offspring – just more meat.

“A couple more eager, suggestible sluts, aren’t you?” He swallowed. “Then I suggest … that you find my cock irresistible, and you both want to get down and suck it. Right now.”

Kenzie squealed happily, dropping to her knees instantly in front of her father and sucking his hard shaft into her throat. It always felt so good to do that! Mmmm … it shut off her brain completely … Ooh maybe he’d cum on her titties! She loved that!!

Behind her, Chloe was struggling. Her eyelids fluttered.

Fight it, a tiny voice whispered. It sounded like Chloe, the Chloe she was a month ago.

She sank, slowly, to her knees, some feet away.

No! You’ve never sucked cock in your life and you’re not about to start now. But she wasn’t strong enough. Not alone.

She licked her lips. She shuffled forward.

And then:

I’ve got an even better suggestion, echoed a different voice in her head. And you want to please your sister, don’t you?

And with her last stubborn effort of will – aided by the last instructions by her sister – she turned, and buried her face between her mother’s legs.

Helen squealed awake, her toes curling. Finally, a truly practiced tongue!!

Dave watched the lesbian tongue lashing, and his hard cock grew in his daughter’s throat. Good enough, he thought. For now.

And Chloe sunk blissfully, mindlessly, into worshipping her mother’s sticky cunt – dripping wet and full of her father’s cum – and sighed contentedly. Don’t want to be brainy, she thought. Just wanna be horny …

And then her thoughts faded away completely. Until there was just the music.

THE END

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After-credits bonus scene

Chloe lapped at her mother’s juicy pussy, grabbing and sqeezing her mother's full round bottom, her own ass in the air. As their father slowly penetrated Kenzie’s tight young snatch from behind, Kenzie leaned forward and began to eagerly probe her sister’s tight asshole with her tongue. Chloe gasped in mindless pleasure ...

And something dropped from her hand and bounced once on the carpet.

The iPod landed with the masking-taped side up.

If anyone was looking at it –

And no one was, but maybe …

Just maybe …

Someone would see it later –

They would have seen a number “5” penciled there. And underneath that, in Chloe’s neat engineering printing:

“Chloe. Dummy. If you’ve got any brains left – Play this.”

***

Thanks for playing, everybody! Let me know what you think! Feedback either here or at @cheriepickering! Tips at @chloepilgrim! Thanks!

[homestuck-quotes-sometimes]

KARKAT: PPPFFUUUUUUUHHHHHHH......... WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE... ROSE: Hm? SOLLUX: kk, what the fuck? SOLLUX: were you h0lding your breath that wh0le time? KARKAT: YEAH KARKAT: SO? TEREZI: OH GOD, YOU DUMMY TEREZI: YOU DONT 4CTU4LLY H4V3 TO HOLD YOUR BR34TH WH3N YOUR3 B31NG QU13T! KARKAT: OK YEAH KARKAT: I MEAN, OF COURSE IT SOUNDS OBVIOUS WHEN YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT DAVE: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha DAVE: rose i told you this dude is fucking incredible