#fuck these endorphins can't be beat

[the-black-dragons-den]

Mmmm euphoria 💞

[anjelicawrites]

I think our new precious baby AcademicSlut!Aemond could cum just from giving head! He doesn’t need anything else, because he exists just to pleasure his lover. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s done at first, because he’s so fucked dumb just from eating his lover out that he doesn’t initially understand why he’s suddenly high on endorphins. He has to be helped to sit down before he realizes that he came in his pants, and he looks so pretty and surprised and ashamed that he came without permission!

-🪴

He goes beyond that! He comes and stays hard, again and again, grabs your hips to keep them tight against his face as he moans against your core, deaf to the pain of your heels kicking against his back and your hands grabbing and pulling at his hair: all he can hear are your moans and whines of pleasure, he's choking on your taste, mindless he keeps sucking and kissing, fucking your hole with his tongue, until he collapses on the floor, the lack of oxygen winning against his stubborn hunger.

NSFW and 18 + only please!

Still high on your own pleasure, you help him sit on the floor with his back against the sofa (he's too heavy for you to maneuver anywhere else), to instruct him on taking long breathes and calm the violent beating of his heart. He looks into your eyes with an enlarged pupil, you can see he's trying to speak, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to find the words.

"I fucked up." He ends up blurting, his only eye now eluding yours. "Why?" All your alarm bells ringing dangerously: Aemond beats himself up too much! "I came without your permission."

He lets his head fall backwards on the sofa: he can't face you, not when he's lost control so badly he couldn't follow the rules.

"Hey." You gently cup his cheeks, your hand light on his scarred side. "Look at me, my life? Please?"

He needs more of your sweet words, to finally face you, certain as he is that you will be cross with him; he's ready to break down when all he sees is the open acceptance on your face.

"You didn't fuck up, Aemond. You were feeling so good you couldn't control yourself, I can't see the bad in that."

You kiss him, a chaste one.

"You have my permission to come as many times as you want, and need when you're eating me. It's so hot Aemond."

He surges towards you, kissing you deeply, his hands anchoring your body to his, until the lack of air forces your lips to part.

"Let me make you feel good again." He growls against your mouth.

Fluidly you stand up an finish undress yourself under the burning of his stare. Slowly, savoring the way he drinks down your body, you offer him your hand to help him up his feet.

"Let's go to bed, my life and you can have me as many times as you need."

[eclipsedcrystalstar]

More of the Gothic Whores cause I feel like it

Dracula: How would you like to live forever?  Jekyll: I'd hate it. Shut the fuck up.

Hyde: Do you ever wonder why you're still single?  Dracula, eating mayonnaise straight out of the jar with a spoon: Yeah... I mean, I'm perfect! Who wouldn't want to date me?  Hyde, sighing: I can name a few people... 

Carmilla: Jekyll, get that hideous thing out of the living room, would you?  Jekyll: Dracula, Carmilla wants you to get out of the house. 

Adam: We’ll find another route, it’s not safe for amateur adventurers.  Hawkins: That sounds like a challenge.  Adam: I have to stress, that is not a challenge.  Hawkins: ...Is exactly what you say to dissuade the weak of heart from accepting the challenge. Well, challenge accepted!  Adam: There is no challenge!

Jekyll: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?  Adam: Can't relate.  Hawkins: Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins? 

The Narrator: Wow, great work on the Halloween decorations. Where did you get the fake skeletons?  Dracula: Fake?

Hyde: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face.  Carmilla: Carmilla: I like you.

Winston, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs?  Hawkins: It means like in hand-to-hand combat.  Winston: Ohhhh-  The Narrator: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

Winston: I hate taking off my glasses, because without them, my vision goes from Full HD all the way down to buffering at 240p and I just can't handle that.

Jekyll: When I said you should try being friendlier this isn't what I meant.  Hyde, stirring a cup of tea aggressively: Oh, so now I'm TOO friendly? There's no pleasing you.  The Narrator, who broke into their house an hour ago: Two sugars please.  Hyde: Coming right up. 

Adam: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen?  Winston: Neither.  Winston: Because it's twelve.

[tiredflowercrown]

Incorrect quotes: No Child left behind version

Noelle: Blackmail is such an ugly word. I prefer extortion. The X makes it sound cool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noelle: But who gets which pencil?

Lonnie: Since they're my things, I get the good one, Uma gets the broken one and you don't get one because fuck you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mars: I don’t care what anyone thinks about me.

Silvia: Ok.

Mars: Wait, why such a muted reaction? Did that not sound cool?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silvia: I'm so happy, I could kiss you!

Jordan: Um...Neat.

*later*

Jordan, lying face down on their bed: I said "Neat," Lonnie. Who the fuck says neat these days? It's not neat to say neat but I said it anyways because I'm fucking stupid.

Lonnie, reading a book: Don't beat yourself up too much, Jordan. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Remember what I did when Noelle confessed their love for me?

Jordan: Didn't you thank them?

Lonnie: *closes the book and looks at the ceiling* I fucking thanked them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freddie: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows.

Uma: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noelle: Do you ever get pre-annoyed? Like you already know someone is going to piss you off?

Moira: What? No, I—

Lonnie: *enters room*

Noelle: *jaw clenches*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lonnie: Anyone else feel good when their brain releases a bunch of endorphins?

Silvia: Can't relate.

Mars: Why would my brain release a bunch of dolphins?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Noelle: Something’s off.

Moira: Maybe you’ve finally developed human emotions and feel bad for hurting people.

Noelle: No, but that’s funny.

[remyfire]

what if........ beejtrap 22 👀

I love you SO MUCH for requesting them!!!!! :D :D :D I think this is my first time Actually Writing Them too so I am running a victory lap rn. I hope you enjoy!! Kiss Roulette (22) A french kiss/kiss with tongue [AO3 crosspost]

Keeping his mustache exactly how BJ likes it (for this month, at least—last week it was longer, the month before shorter, the one prior to that practically handlebars) takes a steady hand and intense concentration. It has nothing to do with it being difficult to maintain with precision. No, it's entirely related to the footsteps he hears coming down the hall.

BJ keeps his gaze on the mirror, lips parted, eyes narrowed, making sure. To trim it. Just. So.

And then two broad hands find his waist.

"Whaddya doin' that for?" Trap asks. Though BJ refuses to so much as look at him in the mirror, he can hear the curve of Trapper's grin shaping those words into something that thrums a pulse of endorphins with every beat of his heart.

Of course, it wouldn't do to show him that so easily. "It's called personal hygiene, McIntyre." BJ tilts his head with a thoughtful frown, letting the light hit his cheek at a different angle. Little more. "You ever heard of it?" he asks as he brings the trimmer back to its task.

Like the bastard he is, Trap drags the tip of his nose over BJ's jawbone, then purposely finds the sensitive spot right behind his ear. "You're the fella who sucked me off last night," he purrs. "You tell me. How'd I taste?"

"Can't remember exactly. Think I'm gonna need to check again."

Trapper hums. He nips BJ's earlobe and BJ just barely keeps himself from cutting a sharp diagonal line. He's not sure the world's ready for that style yet. "Mm, by all means, take as long with that experiment as you like, honey. Hey, c'mon, that's short enough, ain't it?" As Trapper's fingers wander—one hand slipping under BJ's hem and splaying over his stomach, the other easing under his waistband into the thick thatch above his cock. "You're a fucking sexy hairy beast. Why you gotta mess with perfection, huh?"

Despite himself, BJ's lips quirk and his cheeks warm. If he's lucky, he'll be able to blame it on the bathroom still being humid from his shower. "'Cause I've always gotta keep myself perfect by staying two steps ahead of you." His smirk flashes, gleaming white and mischievous through the glass as he takes the trimmer a few inches away to consider the evenness of his mustache. "Then again, you don't exactly make it all that hard to get on top, do you?"

Trapper slaps the bottom of his hand hard enough to knock the trimmer free.

"Dick!" BJ scrambles for a second and a half to finally grab it before it can fall in the sink. The sweet serenade of Trapper's high and free laugh rings in the bathroom, through the hallway, maybe even out the open windows so the neighbors all out enjoying the pretty spring day can hear the infectious nature of it and smile too.

Fuck, the man's dizzying in every damn way. He used to be so much easier to be pissed off at. But now that mirth burrows inside BJ's chest and transforms into tendrils of desire, and not even thinking to fight it the way he did for ages, BJ lets it overtake him. He slams the trimmer down on the edge of the sink, whips around, gets a fistful of Trapper's shirt, and drives him into the wall. He gets a glimpse of the satisfaction written all over Trap's face right before BJ crushes their mouths together, shoving his tongue inside that laughing mouth whether he's ready for it or not.

He tastes like coffee, the roast that BJ prefers and that Trap started picking up from the very beginning without asking. The faint sweetness of syrup too that BJ put by his elbow with the pancakes he'd kept warm for Trap until he rolled out of bed. But BJ searches with a feral kind of hunger, twisting their tongues together fervently, until Trapper clings to him and lets his shivery moans roll out of him a little at a time. That's when BJ swears he can savor the purest essence of Trapper John McIntyre, this vulnerability that he's been offering BJ ever since the first thunderous time they locked eyes. And fuck, but is it a whole goddamn banquet.

As he breaks the kiss, heart pounding, BJ holds Trap there with a hand locked around his jaw, drinking up that handsome grin, those shining amber eyes, the way he's so completely relaxed and unafraid. They've come a long way, the two of them. Despite everything that they fought and bled through to get this far, finally, finally Trapper feels like home.

BJ takes a long, smooth breath in through his nose to cool his blood. "Oh, you're damn lucky I've got somewhere to be in fifteen minutes, McIntyre," he murmurs, watching how Trapper's pupils swell, consuming his irises little by little.

"Guess you'll just have to find me when you get back, huh, Hunnicutt?" His drawl is as ragged as the unhemmed edges where he cut the sleeves off of his messiest shirt just to get BJ hard every single time he's doing yard work.

So much for taking down the temperature. BJ darts forward, then stops himself an inch from Trapper's mouth so he can feel his hot, skittering breaths of need against his lips. "Be ready for me?"

Trapper's legs seem to buckle for a moment before he catches himself with the faintest whimper. "Three fingers. You got it, boss."

BJ chuckles as he pulls away and pats Trapper firmly but fondly on the cheek. BJ makes it exactly three steps, then turns on his heel and marches right back to shove his hands in Trap's back pockets and kiss him senseless one more time. He can be two minutes late. It's fine.

[finitajarjarana]

Why - poem by bob flanagan

Because it feels good;

because it gives me an erection;

because it makes me come;

because I'm sick;

because there was so much sickness;

because I say FUCK THE SICKNESS;

because I like the attention;

because I was alone a lot;

because I was different;

because kids beat me up on the way to school;

because I was humiliated by nuns;

because of Christ and the Crucifixion;

because of Porky Pig in bondage, force-fed by some sinister creep in a black cape;

because of stories of children hung by their wrists,

burned on the stove, scalded in tubs;

because of Mutiny on the Bounty;

because of cowboys and Indians;

because of Houdini;

because of my cousin Cliff;

because of the forts we built and the things we did inside them;

because of what's inside me;

because of my genes;

because of my parents;

because of doctors and nurses;

because they tied me to the crib so I wouldn't hurt myself;

because I had time to think;

because I had time to hold my penis;

because I had awful stomachaches and holding my penis made it feel better;

because I felt like I was going to die;

because it makes me feel invincible;

because it makes me feel triumphant;

because I'm a Catholic;

because I still love Lent, and I still love my penis, and in spite of it all I have no guilt;

because my parents said BE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE, and this is what I want to be;

because I'm nothing but a big baby and I want to stay that way, and I want a mommy forever, even a mean one, especially a mean one;

because of all the fairy tale witches, and the wicked stepmother, and the stepsisters, and how sexy Cinderella was, smudged with soot, doomed to a life of servitude;

because of Hansel, locked in the witch's cage until he was fat enough to eat;

because of "O" and how desperately I wanted to be her;

because of my dreams;

because of the games we played;

because I've got an active imagination;

because my mother bought me Tinker Toys;

because hardware stores give me hard-ons;

because of hammers, nails, clothespins, wood, padlocks, pullies, eyebolts, thumbtacks, staple-guns, sewing needles, wooden spoons, fishing tackle, chains, metal rulers, rubber tubing, spatulas, rope, twine, C-clamps, S-hooks, razor blades, scissors, tweezers, knives, pushpins, two-by-fours, Ping-Pong paddles, alligator clips, duct tape, broomsticks, barbecue skewers, bungie cords, sawhorses, soldering irons;

because of tool sheds;

because of garages;

because of basements;

because of dungeons;

because of The Pit and the Pendulum;

because of the Tower of London;

because of the Inquisition;

because of the rack;

because of the cross;

because of the Addams Family playroom;

because of Morticia Addams and her black dress with its octopus legs;

because of motherhood;

because of Amazons;

because of the Goddess;

because of the moon;

because it's in my nature;

because it's against nature;

because it's nasty;

because it's fun;

because it flies in the face of all that's normal (whatever that is); because I'm not normal;

because I used to think that I was part of some vast experiment and that there was this implant in my penis that made me do these things and that allowed THEM (whoever THEY were) to monitor my activities;

because I had to take my clothes off and lie inside this plastic bag so the doctors could collect my sweat;

because once upon a time I had such a high fever that my parents had to strip me naked and wrap me in wet sheets to stop the convulsions;

because my parents loved me even more when I was suffering;

because surrender is sweet;

because I was born into a world of suffering;

because I'm attracted to it;

because I'm addicted to it;

because endorphins in the brain are like a natural kind of heroin;

because I learned to take my medicine;

because I was a big boy for taking it;

because I can take it like a man;

because, as somebody once said, HE'S GOT MORE BALLS THAN I DO;

because it is an act of courage;

because it does take guts;

because I'm proud of it;

because I can't climb mountains;

because I'm terrible at sports;

because NO PAIN, NO GAIN;

because SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE CHILD;

because YOU ALWAYS HURT THE ONE YOU LOVE.

----

Por qué? Poema por Bob Flanagan

Porque se siente rico;

Porque me da una erección;

Porque me hace eyacular;

Porque yo digo A LA MIERDA CON LA ENFERMEDAD;

Porque me gusta la atención;

Porque estaba solo mucho;

Porque era diferente;

Porque los niños me pegaban cuando iba a la escuela;

Porque fue humillado por monjas;

Por(que) Cristo y la crucifixión;

Por(que) Porky atado, alimentado a fuerza por un tipo siniestro en una capa negra;

Por(que) los cuentos de niños colgados por sus muñecas;

Por(que) Motín a bordo;

Por(que) vaqueros e indios;

Por(que) Houdini;

Por(que) mi primo Cliff;

Por(que) los fuertes que hicimos y las cosas que hicimos adentro;

Por(que) lo que hay adentro de mí;

Por(que) mis genes;

Por(que) doctores y enfermeras;

Porque me ataron a la cuna para que no me hiciera daño a mi mismo;

Porque tenía tiempo para pensar;

Porque tenía tiempo para sostener mi pene;

Porque tenía dolores de estomago horribles y sostener mi pene me hacía sentir mejor;

Porque sentí que estaba por morir;

Porque me hace sentir invencible;

Porque me hace sentir triunfante;

Porque soy católico;

Porque aún me encanta la cuaresma, y aún me encanta mi pene, y a pesar de todo no me siento culpable;

Porque mis padres dijeron HAZ LO QUE QUIERES HACER, y esto es lo que quiero hacer;

Porque sólo soy un llorón, y quiero quedarme así, y quiero una mami para siempre, incluso una pesada, especialmente una pesada;

Por(que) todas las brujas de cuentos de hadas, y la madrastra malvada, y las hermanastras, y cuan guapa era Cenicienta, sucia de hollín, destinada a una vida de esclava;

Por(que) Hansel, encerrado en la jaula de la bruja, hasta que era lo suficiente gordo para comérselo;

Por(que) "O" y por cuan desesperadamente quería ser ella;

Por(que) mis sueños;

Por(que) los juegos que jugábamos;

Porque tengo una imaginación activa;

Porque mi madre me compraba Tinker Toys;

Porque las ferreterías me paran la polla;

Por(que) martillos, clavos, perritos para ropa, madera, candados, poleas, armellas, chinchetas, grapadoras eléctricas, agujas, cucharas de madera, anzuelos, cadenas, reglas de metal, tubos de goma, espátulas, cuerda, cordel, prensas, ganchos, navajos, tijeras, pinzas, cuchillos, chinches, palos, paletas de Ping Pong, pinzas de cocodrilo, cinta americana, escobabas, pinchos, elásticos, caballetes, sopletes;

Por(que) los cobertizos;

Por(que) los garajes;

Por(que) los sótanos;

Por(que) los mazmorras;

Por(que) la Torre de Londres;

Por(que) la Inquisición;

Por(que) el potro;

Por(que) la cruz;

Por(que) la sala de niños de la familia Addams;

Por(que) Morticia Addams y su vestido negro con piernas de pulpo;

Por(que) la maternidad;

Por(que) las Amazonas;

Por(que) la Diosa;

Por(que) la luna;

Porque para mí es natural;

Porque va en contra de lo que es natural;

Porque es indecente;

Porque es divertido;

Porque viola todo lo que es normal (lo que sea eso) porque yo no soy normal;

Porque en el pasado pensé que era parte de un gran experimento y que había un implante en mi pene que me hacía hacer estas cosas y que dejaba a ellos (sean cuales sean) controlar lo que hacían;

Porque necesitaba sacar toda mi ropa y yacer dentro de una bolsa plástica para que los doctores pudieran recolectar mi sudor;

Porque había una vez un incidente en que tenía una fiebre tan alta que mis padres sacaron toda mi ropa y me envolvieron en sábanas mojadas para parar mis convulsiones;

Porque mis padres me querían aún mas cuando estaba sufriendo;

Porque la sumisión es rica;

Porque nací en un mundo de sufrimiento;

Porque es atractivo;

Porque es adictivo;

Porque las endorfinas en el cerebro son como heroína natural;

Porque aprendí a tomar mi remedio;

Porque me portaba muy bien al tomarlo;

Porque lo aguanto como hombre;

Porque alguien una vez digo, TIENE MAS COJONES QUE YO;

Porque es un acto de coraje;

Porque hay que ser valiente;

Porque me hace orgulloso;

Porque no puedo subir montañas;

Porque soy pésimo para los deportes;

Porque el que quiere pescado que se moje;

Porque la letra con sangre entra;

Porque uno siempre daña al que ama.

[thelesbianpoirot]

how does this work when the person who is into the dominant position of these kinks is a woman? i’m currently in a relationship featuring a lot of these things people on here call fetishes and kinks and honestly i just rolled into because my partner was into it before we met. but she’s always been into the more dominant role and the kink stuff so i just went along with it. it’s hard to think of it as damaging or bad when most of the people i know just have a boring sex life. not that sex without kink is borig but most couples i know barely even have sex (like 1x a week?). it also just gets boring after a while to just get eaten out or fingered without anything else, no?

If normal regular pleasurable sex is boring, you and the person aren't meant to be, there are women who I dated where they bored me so much I ignored texts, and calls which could have led to sex (I love sex), but I just didn't like them, wasn't attracted to or interested in, so they could say "lets fuck for hours" and I would yawn. And there were women who I followed around for months like a dog because they would watch movies with me, and kissed me sometimes. If you get to the point where you gotta start beating/whipping/choking someone to enjoy sex, you're just not into each other and are just looking for endorphins through fear, pain, abuse, and humiliation - because you don't get endorphins the natural way. It is a poor warped substitute for the pleasure of being with someone you're so attracted to, you could come just from getting off in the same room or even over the phone. If being good to your partner is "boring" you don't need to be in a relationship. Why does she need to hurt you to enjoy having sex with you? Seeing you cry out in pleasure and come with her hand isn't enough? Use toys, wear costumes, roleplay, roughhouse. "I just rolled into because my partner was into it before we met." She has you convinced you need to be in pain for her to want you? That is all this said to me. You weren't even interested in this before you convinced you of this, did you guys even try to have a normal sexual relationship before the interplay of sex and violence was introduced. A female abuser is an abuser, plain and simple, there is gray area when the domme is a prostitute or in pornography she is a victim all the same. Men let women domme for the same reason they adore porn of big black men fucking their white women. They like the power play of someone they consider lesser dominating them/taking what is theirs. It doesn't mean they give up power in real life. I can't fathom getting bored of having sex with my partner, at that point I would either do something sexy, exciting or fun to rekindle the passion or just end it. I wouldn't think, maybe if I just started choking her during sex it would suddenly get better.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

Tw: anxiety, ptsd, uh I think that's it oh use of babe and baby

The van screeches to a stop in front of the trailer. Eddie bolts out, almost forgetting to shut the car door. He had just finished an awesome set with the band at the Hideout, was riding that high of endorphins, when the bartender said he had a call. You were freaked out and said something was wrong, and all those endorphins disappeared.

Eddie rushes to the front door, cursing himself for dropping the keys as he tries to unlock the door (he thought it was unrealistic in horror movies...but not anymore). Eddie calls out your name as he enters, slamming the door with more force then necessary.

"Bedroom." You call out. Eddie hurries to the room, heart beating fast. Memories of Chrissy flash through his mind, his stomach dropping. His palms are sweaty, breaths coming faster and you-

You are laying on the bed. You look fine. Angelic even. His hand shakes," What uh what's going on?" You blink up at the ceiling," Can't move." Eddie sits on the bed looking you up and down," Shit okay is it a trance? Where's the music fu-"

"No, shit sorry." You cut him off, hand landing on his thigh. Grounding him. He grabs your hand, wincing as he feels how clammy his hand is against yours. "The world is...." you wave your free hand," spinning. Can't move."

Eddie takes a deep breath," okay spinning we can handle that the earth moves constantly. What uh what's going on?" "Dunno. I'm here but not." Eddie blinks, heart rate coming down. You seem okay, no imminent death coming. "What do you mean not here?" Eddie pokes your stomach, making you flinch away and swat at his hand," You're right here."

"I am here. But not. I'm..." you struggle to find words," I'm heavy, like not weight but weighty. Like, it takes so much effort to lift my arm. But like I'm also above. Like, not here. Like I can feel my body but I'm not in it. It's freaking me out" you take a deep breath, eyes darting around," Something ain't right and I dont know why I feel like this I've never felt this way."

Eddie frowns as he thinks, eyes searching yours. Your reddened eyes, pupils blown. Eddie pauses before letting out a sharp laugh, " Oh Jesus Christ you're just high." Eddie sighs and chuckles slightly as you pout. Eddie lays down next to you and kisses your cheek. "I don't do drugs," you mumble as he wraps an arm around you. You absently hold onto his arm," I've never done drugs."

Eddie hums, breathing deeply and inhaling your scent. He calms as he lays there, feeling more grounded by the second. "All i did was clean, ate some chocolate you left me, went to the store, an-" "chocolate?" "Yeah, the chocolate. On my dresser?"

Eddie chuckles as he kisses your neck,"That was an edible. That was mine. You just did drugs baby." "Oh....so I'm not dying." "Nope." Eddie nuzzles his nose into your neck," How much did you eat?" You shrug," The whole thing?" "Jesus christ! You aren't supposed to eat that mu-" "Shit am I gonna die?" "Oh fuck, no babe it's no you'll be fine."

Eddie sighs, pulling you closer, throwing a leg up over yours," just lay there and enjoy the high babe. No need to be scared now. I've got you." You hum as you lean into him, no longer scared of the feeling. Eddie just hopes he grounds you like you are him. Safe. Together.

this had me in the edge of my seat at first, then had me giggling and feeling soft by the end 🥺🥺

[the-hero-of-light-and-shado-blog]

Vauge AC6 x Worm crossover coalescing in my brain, feel free to steal anything from it you like but it's not terribly original. Suicide/body horror warning.

So like. Ok. Taylor, somehow acquires Coral (running idea is that a tinker with a device the grabs random items from potential futures grabs a vital of Coral, ends deems it useless to anyone but Blasto and chucks it in... idk, the woods? Before getting got by the 9 when they came the guitar time because Manequin be mankillin.)

Taylor acquired mystery Vial, superhero fantasy ensues so she keeps holding off it with the hope that it might be like those old superhero comics from before Capes. Where random ass Chemical(tm) grants powers. The Emma shit happens, and instead of triggering, over new years break she Drinks it, justifying to herself that she wants to test the theory. (She doesn't, she knows damn well better, just wants to die.)

The Coral, in a dose that would OD even Rummy is DEFINITELY going to kill her, before Danny finds her and gets her to the hospital. Docs are trying their best, but can't do much more than make her die slower till Panacea gets there. She recognizes Coral is organic but to her surprise her power just goes "idk it's some kinda entry being but also organic. I can't work with this!"

She's freaked out, but also refuses to let this girl die because then she's not a Hero and therefore not a good person. So she starts allowing Taylors biology in a desperate bid to save her, effectively just doing enough to keep it from killing her ah giving places for the Coral to exist. The Coral obliges and Panacea eases up thinking she's saved her (probably feeling the first dose of endorphins in years as her power applauds her actually using it creatively, if less destructive than it wanted.)

Taylor now stable has her body subtly altered by the Coral that's there, now that it won't instakill her, basically making Taylor a Gen 1 augmented human. She wakes up, contexts to the Coral network very crudely, and gets like, inundated with memories, thoughts, and this from myriad people because fuck you Coral can communicate faster than light, abs FTL is time travel. Therefore it can communicate with the past and future. Most notably she gets a lot of Cinder Carla (onown doser, honestly a lot of her wngineers and techs too)shoved in her brain, so all sorts of designs from RaD are just floating around without all the technical knowhow to use them maximally.

Taylor, thinking this if just, how tinkers work, thinks she is a tinker (she isn't, it's run of the mill superscience not clarketech/paracausal madness, totally mass,prpducable and comprehensible by basic humies.) On top of this her immune system has basically been replaced by Coral since it can kill basically any bacteria, so her body is a breeding ground for the stuff that she uses to Kickstart Coral tech.

Something something, Administrative AI she makes named Cueball. (In universe she used the stock unity ball as his avatar and never changed it. Out of universe DESTROY... NINE-BALL.) Something something Squealer makes the world's worst AC, something something Coral is unpredictable because it exists in some sort of atemporal state, so the Entities can only predict what it can do after they've seen an example, allowing her to actually make her mechs and do this shit unordered. Something something, using Cueball to sell hyperefficient internal combustion engines to suffering countries at very reasonable rates, and working at a computer store to steal broken electronics. (It's circuit city, they beat out best buy HARD on bet cause it makes me laugh.)

[slut4sway]

Anywherebound / Chapter VI: shot of holy water

You grow so fond of things meant to be free

What if letting go is what's killing me?

I've never felt this beat down before

Soon as I'm back up I'm coming back for more

And I hope you find whatever it is you need

Leave it behind, the wreckage of you and me

And I pray you go back to Oklahoma

So I can head back home and be the

Man that's never known ya

•

tw : mentioned drug abuse, mentioned alcoholism. mentioned self harm

🛻•••••••••••••••••••🏞️

trevor’s journal entry : i love you but you can go to hell. you probably like it better there anyway. with all those guys who thought they could have me, and all the hell you've put me through; the core of the earth would finally lay them down. it's pretty sure to say i'm tired of you.

6/4/23

2:12pm

They had good times yeah, but where will they go when the weed is all smoked? Where will they go if the pills run out? Where will they go when there's no more room on their skin for the blade and the ladders of scars? Where will they go when the liquor is all empty? Where will they be when the water rushes through? Where will they be when the white lines and little lies get ahold of them? Where would they go if they didn't pack up and leave?

If they chose to stay, maybe they'd be numb for a couple more days; but in the end, it always comes crashing down and they know they both can cause a pretty ugly wreck. For fuck's sake, Trevor is tired and dripping wet while he's doubled over on his hands and knees trying to breathe. He broke every part of him to hold Jamie through the shakes, but it's hard to keep afloat with his best friend... boyfriend..? It's hard to keep his head above the water when Jamie won't even swim. He's taking in all his share of water at godspeed. How could he even get to shore with Jamie if he won't drop him in the murky water and leave?

His heart was heavy on games and bullshit, especially the ones Jamie played; but he only has one and it's been shattered into a trillion pieces already. Why would he continue to throw it around? He finally brought up the strength to go, and now that his head is clearing up it's made it easier to realize. The haze no longer protected him from the truth. It wasn't a safe little corner he could sidestep into and avoid his problems anymore. For once in his life, Trevor was exposed. Now he's on the hunt for himself, just to chase his running soul down and catch it, to keep it right where it belongs.

No more blaming himself. Jamie was to blame. Jamie fucking Drysdale. It was partially him who dragged himself down with Jamie, and there was no denying that. He could have cut and run with the wind the second he had a doubt, but he didn't. Why? The reason is still something else he's on the hunt for.

He's loved drowning in Jamie for his entire life, but now he couldn't breathe. All the coke-talk was false and deceiving, and convinced him enough to stay through everything. Most definitely, it's a long and hateful road. Finally, he's gotten the feeling he needs to get his ass up and get home back to his warm bed to melt the frost Jamie froze over him.

Isn't this what Trevor wanted? To get better? To break the cycle? Sometimes he should be careful what he should wish for, cause now he's staring death right in the face.

Where would this take him? It's unclear. Would he be six feet under with his obituary reading about how he was such a bright soul and didn't ever deserve to feel the need to cut his life so short?

Whatever they did, it was still the same. It didn't matter how they did it; because they just hurt themselves. Drink, slice, burn, cut, stab, slash, rip, snort, smoke, inject, or even fuck until they can't feel anything; it's the same. Exact. Thing. Self-harm. The internalized abuse they felt from one another was just released with endorphins every time they did these things, and guess it just gave them a feeling of release. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Everything was just an ocean. The cloudy depths of the Pacific, to be exact. No Hawaiian vacation sun, no California breeze, no west-coast summer; just clouds of acid rain which stung them every day when they finally found peace. It's hard to trust something ever gets better, since when it does it always is just a false sense of security that is deceiving and leads a person to become vulnerable for the Devil to come up and ruin them one more time.

Only a shot of holy water could fix that.

Instead of a shot of whiskey.

Jamie... he's.. well, Jamie. He wants so much, but mostly the boys he can't have. Boys full of longing and unrepaired hearts, boys who want him but he can't be good enough for them. In more ways than one, he's both types. From a different perspective, Trevor is the one who he wants but will never be good enough for him.

Jamie wants one boy, though. That's the one he would never get back.

And then there he was. The love of his life standing in front of him, bags packed and keys in hand.

It was he who suggested Trevor leave, so now why does he wanna take it all back?

''Don't you wish you could go back.. sometimes?'' Jamie sighed, his voice dripping like honey and his words held the weight and gravity to drag them both down to the floor and wind up a crying heap. Maybe, or maybe not.

''Mhm. A lot.'' Trying to remember what they were, Trevor just wishes he could go back home. Home used to be Jamie. But now home was just a house out east. Home was now a place away from home. Home was now a place where he could escape the stinging feeling of being in his presence, needing to leave to numb the pain again.

Every day was just another meaningless chore, and every night is just another nightingale song being belted out into the breeze. Just trying to remember where their bed wasn't pins and needles, and they were leaning on a tailgate and looking up at the stars. The sky is falling, and so the stars are coming down with it. Hopefully coming down from another high later was a way to silence the Devil weeping out to him, and maybe that high would come from a shot of holy water mixed with bitter liquor. He was a good guy, in the light of 8 years ago. Here, he's trying to remember who he was. And other times he was just trying to remember his name.

''I don't want you.. to leave. Please don't. I take it back, I take it all back!'' Jamie's eyes grew glassy with tears, and the hurt in his voice felt like death by a thousand cuts to Trevor.

''...I know, and- I don't want to either.''

''But what you said that one night was right, and it's the truth I don't wanna hear. Sure is the truth, though.'' Trevor held a straight face, even though he was burning out inside; ready to snuff and collapse like ash falling from a stick of incense.

Oh, how he could wish he could be breathing in sage and the calming herbs right now.

''Nobody could love you more than me. R-remember that for me?'' The boy's dark, messy tips of his hair grew damp from his tears. as Trevor stood in front of him in the doorway, burdened with the weight of his belongings and the weight of the moment.

''Yeah, James. I know. Don't need to remind me.'' The older boy's solemn tone killed Jamie even more but sedated him enough from the thought of Trevor knowing to be able to keep himself standing.

It takes a lot to know what someone's heart really needs, and even more to realize that love isn't what it's cut out to be. They'd been fighting for each other and each other for so long, so it would really suck to let it all go. Yet it's better to let it lie than hurt each other. It's getting hard now, so why won't they just stay and try to fix it? Besides, they could just say their ''I love you's'' until the leaving leaves.

If the leaving doesn't leave, they'll just make more promises they can't keep.

As always.

''God, I wish I could just like.. make it make sense to you that all this shit goin' on in my head- it makes it so hard I can't speak!'' His tears barely subsided as he said this, while Trevor just listened and sighed; seemingly unfazed.

''I know you try to be better, but it's hard to stay when we're yelling, ya know? And even now I just gotta walk away-''

''Leave knowing I'll love you more than you could ever know'' Jamie interrupted, crying as he collapsed into Trevor for what felt like the last time.

Trevor could act indifferent, cause he doesn't want to leave; though he needs to. Jamie even suggested it, so why is he crying? The truth is that truth hurts.

Truth be told, Trevor's fucking tired of it all. Tired of leaving and coming back, tired of the cycle, tired of the mental illness, tired of all the hurt, and most of all tired of himself. He could go anywhere in the world but he'd never escape the one always with him. At the end of the day, he's the goddamn devil in both of their lives. Leaving is the only way to exorcise him from his and Jamie's life since Jamie makes it hard to love himself because Jamie is hard to love.

''I'll always be yours, Jim.''

And that was the last of them. The wreckage was left behind him, as he gave him a final kiss and walked out of his life with no hesitation. For once in his life, the roles were reversed and he wasn't the one being hurt by leaving. Not showing it, at least.

That final, longing kiss. It sealed his words. Jamie was still on his hands and knees sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe, and Trevor was starting up his 22' fastback and loading up all his stuff.

Jamie's truck would look oh so lonely without Trevor's car.

The sun was still shining down, and boiling the inside of the car, but Jamie felt like the whole world had just gone pitch black and silent.

He was well on his way of watching the roads melt into the mountains like he and Jamie always loved.

•

He was lying on the floor, but he couldn't scream. Technically, he could; but his lungs were so compressed and overworked by his crying it wouldn't be loud enough for anyone to hear and come to his rescue. Besides, Trevor already resigned from his job of being Jamie's lifeline.

Turning into all the things that someone's running from is a different kind of pain, and being left for it is just like another shot to the heart while they're down. Trevor could have talked more shit than any boy badmouthing Jamie ever would about how they're fucked up for leaving him at his worse, but now he was driving in silence away from him.

Couldn't Trevor take it slow as he left him? It already felt like ripping off a bandaid with a prolonged stinging sensation after, be that as it may even hanging onto every last molecule he had of Trevor would hurt less. He already missed the way the floor creaked when he quietly shuffled from their bed to the roof. Now that feeling was filled by missing him already and seeing steady red he could not ever dull.

One thing he's quickly learned the hard way is that Trevor is a hellspawn who burned him until he couldn't feel the pain anymore and that nothing could kill him slower than letting that sweet son of a bitch go. Holy water is all he needs to exorcise him, so he can get back up and act like he's never known him.

All he needs is a shot of holy water.

[icedteacatfish]

Face melter

Cock the barrel, trigger range

Swerving donuts 'gainst the grain

I blame ghost rider; whips the brain

Kaleidoscopic bullet train

Never gave up, just a clutch

Bitch!

Burn a bitch and burn that strip to dust

Dust to ashes, ash to mush

Mashed off the madness man — combust

Black magic flames race out because they forgot they can't get down enough —

Low to the ground limbo

Don't touch this merchandise, it's way too much

Ride the currents like a snake

Wicked rhymes

Whirlpools I'll wade through haters, posers, fools, and flakes

Through this breaks, the rules it takes

But I not just bump what you waste your time and money tryin' to chase

Don't know why you're wasting time

Just know what I do with mine

How to do impossible things

How to do impossible things

What does happiness really mean?

Where to go when abrupt woken up from the dream

Hey, we got that P.M.A

We got that P.M.A

Madness

Don't trip man, just know we come

And won't even be close to done

Till shit hit the fan and make that flesh melt off your plastic face

Kill it till it dies, don't stop it until you feel that flatline drop

To hell and back, fuck yeah, why not?

Why not?

Smash till I break out, can't stop, won't stop, don't stop

Ghosts can't get caught

Run it back, get cracked to the beat one time

Get-get-get back, keep in sync rhymes

Endorphins cashed by your own time

I'm coughing, the track freeze and unwind

Weed is of kind vaporize

Freak man down from way this rides, how this rides

Feet don't touch the ground inside

I twist the rhythm pounds 'em on

How measurements of sound rewind, forever and a day forgot

Forget to let it bang and walk the plank that hang from slang concocted

To destroy the frame got bent by globe, this takes the pain in shock

Ahh!

Don't know why you're wasting time

Just know what I do with mine

How to do impossible things

How to do impossible things

What does happiness really mean?

Where to go when abrupt woken up from the dream

Hey, we got that P.M.A

We got that P.M.A

Execution makes it hot

Electrocute the wave — the shock

To the brains of heads that came to watch us claim the game

Haters can't knock us

Real ones bring that bloody bass

We came to melt your fucking face!

You can keep it, I don’t want it back

My only inside pocket

All up on it, man get off it

Can’t you see me? Best to drop it

Cut it, quit it, quick, next topic

How we fuck it off and rock it

Paradox knot, disco sock it

Can't unplug it with your logic

Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it

OMG, G, G, G, G, G

Fuck it

And unplug it with your mad—

Take out your eyes and watch it

Make you cry — feel like I lost it

Didn’t lose it, never had it

Just another clueless faggot

Bound and gagged by fear

Too pathetic to be tragic

Get that shit outta here

[tuliptiger]

Can I just talk about being fat for a second though. (This is all from what I know, my perspective on my own experiences, with the full acknowledgement that yeah every BODY is different and some things work for others and dont work for the rest.)

More specifically being a "weight I don't want to be". I've tried a lot of things and read a lot of scientifically back research, that certainly doesn't make me an expert but I do know what didn't work for me, and didn't work, and didn't work. And nothing worked at this particular point.

It's a specific and unique kind of frustrating when I want to go about not responsibly, in a healthy way, and in a sustainable and long term way. I also wanted instant results but have worked on letting that particular hang up go at this point.

Diets do NOT work, they don't, they fuck up your metabolism and whole inner workings in the worst way. Whatever weight you lost you're HIGHLY, almost ALWAYS in fact going to gain it back or gain more than you had previously. The more you try the more your body will kick back and the worse the results will be every time. Ok so...diets dont work.

HOWEVER changing your eating habits will IMPROVE YOUR HEALTH, not necessarily help you lose weight but it WILL improve your health. I don't restrict myself these days (do Not read that as I eat endlessly and bottomlessly, as it turns out when you arent starving yourself on a diet or eating out of boredom your regular hunger is just. Pretty regular? Pretty low usually.) But I have really worked on not eating foods with saturated oils and high ADDED sugar items. They made me feel bad and I feel better in every single way by not eating them anymore. Every way, teeth, oral health, digestive health, my energy levels are way more EVEN not high or low, and overall physically feeling better.

I specifically said added sugars btw because fruit is fucking fine for you and natural sugars are fine for you. Nature throws in fiber with high sugar items far more often than not to even it all out.

Ok ok so diets dont work, mark one thing off the list of possible options. Eating in a more conscious way makes me feel better overall but doesn't necessarily help me lose weight. Ok so should I be looking at calories then? Apparently no because that does similar things that a diet does. Don't be eating 10000 calories a day but I guess if you eat under a minimal amount of calories a day your body goes into starvation mode and if this keeps happening your body once again will kick back worse everytime.

This has only ever helped me keep my current weight and I wasn't even aggressive with it. My body still went hey we're not getting enough hold on to what you can. Love her for doing that, glad shes looking out for us, i wish we could talk.to.each other so I could ask her to burn the fat reserves first, well always have food.

Unfortunately that's not how it works so ok calories in and out and diets don't work. Exercise and building muscle must be the solution then right? I don't know!! It's the hardest one by far and I hate doing it, there is no endorphin boost for me after exercising there is no bonus other than "I'm doing this for my health" and that alone is a poor motivation for the animal that I am. I worked all year long in 2022, hiked around all day in the heat and weather and yet I only dipped 5-10 lbs under my normal weight and returned right to it when seasonal work was done.

Ok so far everything I've tried or MAY have tried did work and or is bad for me in the long term. So my current attempt is, with my new eating habits and relationship with eating and food, is to go to the gym and just. Show up. I just show up and i walk/"hike" for 30 minutes ish and leave when I want to.. sometimes i stay longer sometimes I don't. This feels sustainable and doable. This FEELS better but will it work? Sincerely how do I lose weight if I can't restrict calories, go on a diet, or beat the shit out of my body with intense workouts until I weigh what I need to. None of that is sustainable for me and I get that but what CAN I do then :( I feel hopeless and stupid.

I want to be a specific weight for work reasons and health reasons btw. I want to be able to go out on fires and pass the fitness test for getting my red card. I want to be able to keep up with my coworkers when we are working and hiking to plots. I want to be able to move around in the forest better than I am right now. I need the weight off of my joints long term. I'm healthy at the moment, all blood tests come back excellent and I don't have any injuries or aches. I just want to be able to carry a 45 lb pack of gear in a back pack instead of on my body :(

I just feel helpless because there are so many things coming out now that say "This never worked for weight loss and never will, stop doing it!" But there still isn't JACK shit about what people CAN do to lose weight :((( only what they shouldnt

[grison-in-space]

!!! Autocross is agility for cars. Love that.

This is a v v fun discussion and I am enjoying this thing to chew on for the moment. Couple points that stick out to me before I've even started thinking about the lit:

Emotions have both physical and cognitive components. Both "adrenaline junkie" activities and panic attacks involve a ton of physical arousal and therefore stress response, but context—your cognitive state going in—really matters! Pounding hearts and heightened awareness and adrenaline rush all feel different in the context of flight, flight, and fucking.

We actually do know a fair bit about what makes adrenaline junkies' enjoyment different from the kind of stressful experience that feels like fear, and it all boils down to our sense of control: if you feel in control, you're essentially universally going to have a much better time than someone who feels like they can't control anything. Note that sense of control does not mean objective control; this is one of those things where it's your estimation that matters.

Anyway this is already quite long so I'm smacking down a cut.

Context for me: I'm AuDHD, and I'm also an academic behavioral neuroendocrinologist with a focus on context and decision-making (though I've never worked directly on stress, I spend a lot of time hanging out with glucocorticoids). It is possible that you were hoping to hear from someone like me. I do not, however, particularly self identify as an adrenaline junkie. In terms of anxiety, I'm firmly in the chronic anxiety/depression/cPTSD category, and bluntly I would say have been coping with undiagnosed panic attacks for well over a decade now.*

Personally, I (AuDHD) responded to Wellbutrin by immediately ramping up my baseline arousal level and feeling heightened anxiety/constant shortness of breath. That was within the first two weeks. After two weeks I also developed whole body hives and was allowed to stop taking it in favor of a good one SSRI.

Anyway, I think the aspect of control is a really important one when it comes to simulating a stress response, right up to and including the amount of endorphin release.

I've been thinking in terms of some of this discussion for a while now because I keep thinking in terms of a specific gene ontology study I'd like to do on different breeds of dogs regarding certain behavioral traits, particularly surrounding the sorts of dog breeds that are notorious for being very driven to work in exactly the kind of high octane situations you describe. I think that, as well as variation in arousal threshold, it's also possible that some of the variation in enjoyment of high arousal activities that feel within someone's zone of control is variation in endorphin receptor density. Essentially, stimulating the HPA axis with an adrenaline rush is probably various levels of baseline enjoyable to different people. Unfortunately it's real hard to study that in humans without getting people to donate brains, but... Hm, I should do a lit pass, I have some thoughts.

*I read somewhere fairly young that you could have a panic attack where your body freaked out and started to lose its shit but that this did not, in fact, mean that the cognitive brain had to panic, and I got real good at just... masking my internal emotional state and not reacting. When you patiently and theoretically calmly explain that you are getting unpredictable surges of terror and fear and heart beating really fast and having to control your breathing rate very carefully, you don't.... really make sense to medical professionals because you aren't performing it.

I need somebody with a background in psychology or a history of anxiety disorders to help me out here. I am drawing a line between adrenaline junkies and panic attacks. Though to be perfectly fair I'm not sure if this is a dividing line or a connection.

AFAIK, there isn't a ton, or really any research on adrenaline junkies, which is kinda wild if you think about it. At its foundation it is intentionally provoking the physical reactions of a panic attack and hijacking the fight or flight response for endorphins. This tends to get written off as thrill seeking or irresponsible behavior, not in the least because we refer to it in the language of addiction. But I am inclined to think it's something more akin to emotional detachment. Fear and a fear response can be entirely separate things.

[mrsnegan]

Missed you - Jeffrey x Wife!Reader

[Just a quick JDM drabble because...I live for this kind of fantasy. 😏🤤]

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, bodily fluids, fluff]

"You've started without me?"

Jeffrey's deep voice made you jerk your hand from between your legs. He sounded amused and aroused, a combination you cherished the most. Though you felt like a deer in the spotlight, heart beating heavily in your heaving chest while your cheeks turned a light shade of red.

"Sorry", you mumbled and tried to sit up, but he stopped you in your tracks.

"No darling, no need to be sorry about that damn nice sight. You could welcome me home like this every time."

He walked towards you with a smirk all over his face, his eyes glinted with mischief.

"Keep going, show me how much you've missed me", he inquired, voice laced with desire, the rich sound traveling right to your core.

You bit your lip in return, your hand wandering downwards again until your fingers touched your soaked folds. The moan spilled from your lips without a second thought, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of touching yourself in front of him.

"Eyes on me, darling. Wanna see you fall apart."

With a clouded mind, your gaze found his while you circled your clit slowly, legs drifting apart some more.

"You know", you heard him say between the sounds of his belt coming apart and the zipper of his jeans being pulled down, "I can't believe I'm this lucky to have such a beautiful and gorgeous wife. Fucking shit, if you could only look at you, so hot and wet."

"Just for you", you groaned, your fingers now deftly playing with yourself.

"Fuck yourself for me, darling. Show me how you make yourself cum."

His command felt like a gentle slap to your heated skin, driving you further towards the abyss of your pleasure.

You inserted one, then two fingers into your channel while your eyes remained on Jeffrey.

His moan set your nerves aflame, heat rushing through your whole body.

He kept coming nearer still, the bed between your legs dipping under his weight. How much you've missed him by your side, his smell, his laugh, his touch, his presence. You've missed him too much to keep your hands out of your panties.

"That's it, good girl", he said, his eyes now glued to your fingers. His own pulled out his proudly erect cock, your mouth watered at the sight of him jerking himself off in front of you.

You alternated between fucking yourself on your fingers and pulling them out to rub your clit, over and over again you repeated your movements until you couldn't keep it in much longer.

"I'm gonna...", you told him above you, his fist working over himself a blurry motion in your field of sight.

"Fuck", was the only thing he groaned loudy while his release splattered all over your fingers, pussy and lower abdomen, triggering your own wave of bliss which came crashing down uncontrollably, drowning you completely.

After an eternity or just a blink of an eye, you felt Jeffrey pull your hand from between your legs gently, bringing your index finger to his mouth to suck off your combined juices.

"Missed you so much", you mumbled, still high on endorphins, pulling him down for a heated kiss.

"Me too, darling", he uttered between kisses, his still clothed body caging you in, the most comforting blanket there could ever be.

---

Taglist: @iluvneganandjamie @murphslass @negans-attagirl @you-a-southpaw-doll

[amiwritesthings]

young dean hooking up with older men at truck stops. when john witnesses one of these encounters, he's furious, wants to step in, but doesn't, can't, d. on his knees with a cock in his mouth too much of a turn on, so he just watches in secret, maybe even jerks off to it. feelings of guilt. eventually confronts d. about his hook-ups. anger, drama, angst. d.: it's you, i just want you, i'm thinking about you when they fuck me, please let me suck your cock, dad. what will j. do? you tell me.

i am so so so sorry this took me so long and technically this isn't exactly what you asked for but it's where my brain wanted to go today so hopefully you still like it

link to ao3

_______

It’s dark when Dean walks back the short distance from the truck stop to the adjacent motel. He pulls his jacket tighter around his body against the cold, prays that John is still out somewhere drowning in cheap whiskey.

His jaw aches, his knees are sore, there’s a wet patch in his jeans, but there’s also 50 bucks in his pocket and his mind is pleasantly fuzzy with post-orgasmic endorphins.

He slides the key into the lock as quietly as he can, eases the door open carefully to keep the salt line intact. He feels his heart skip, pure rush of adrenaline, when he sees it’s not just Sammy in the room; John’s passed out in the ratty loveseat in the sitting area. It’s the next best thing to John not being here at all. If Dean’s lucky, John was too out of it to remember Dean not being here when he got back.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, takes a second to make sure the salt line is indeed intact. Sammy snuffles softly in his sleep, turns over to his other side, and Dean shrugs out of his jacket, lays it down at the foot of his bed, before tip toeing to the bathroom, thankful for the small window, the moonlight from outside illuminating the room just enough that he doesn’t need to hit the light.

He leans on the sink, doesn’t dare to look at his own reflection in the tiny mirror that’s already gone half blind. He reaches for the mouthwash, takes a swig, lets the liquid sting his mouth and get rid off the taste of dick. He spits into the sink, blue remnants of mouthwash running into the cracks in the porcelain, rinses with water and spits again.

He freezes when there’s a rustling sound behind him, and he knows it’s John, just from the prickle of heat where John’s gaze rests heavily on the back of his neck. Fuck. Dean forces himself to look up into the mirror, to acknowledge his father’s presence. A cloud passes over the moon outside, making the room darker for a moment, casting John’s face in shadows.

John takes a step forward, eerily silent, and with how small the room is, it only takes another half-step for John to be close enough to him that his body tenses with awareness. There’s a moment of silence, unbearable seconds of uncertainty, and Dean averts his eyes, lets his head drop forward, hands bracing against the sink.

A soft puff of air against the back of his neck, warm whiskey breath, is his only warning before John’s hands come down next to his on the sink, his father’s body hot and looming behind him. ‘What’re you playing at, boy?’ John asks gruffly, voice low and dangerously quiet, and Dean swallows against the dryness in his throat, that raw sting just behind his tongue.

‘Sir?’ he asks, voice raspy and wrecked. Best to let John tell him which transgression he’s angry about before Dean accidentally adds more fuel to the fire.

‘Saw you. Out there, on your knees.’

Fuck. Dean feels like is heart is about to beat out of his chest, pulse echoing loudly in his own ears. ‘I can expl-‘, he starts but stops the moment he sees John’s hand moving, body bracing for the inevitable blow.

It never comes.

John runs a hand up Dean’s arm, a barely-there touch, hovering just close enough to give the illusion of contact while still keeping Dean acutely aware of the underlying threat. He shivers when the hand comes back down to cage him in and John leans in closer, stubble brushing his cheek, the ghost sensation of lips right up against the shell of his ear.

‘God, boy, looked so good,' John breathes, words just the tiniest bit slurred, tongue heavy with whiskey. ‘Wanted to kill that asshole for taking advantage of you like that. Old enough to be your father, that guy.’ There’s a trace of anger to the words, that sharp edge that usually has Dean bracing for a verbal lashing.

Dean exhales shakily, dares to press back just a bit into the weight of John’s body behind him. Whatever he had expected to happen if John ever found out sure wasn’t this. ‘Why didn't you?’ he asks quietly, and John drops his head forward with a sigh that fans hotly over Dean’s skin.

‘Too pretty, your lips stretched wide like that. Fuckin’ hot. Could just imagine-,' he trails off, pushes his hips forward into Dean instead, and oh. For the first time tonight, Dean wishes John was less drunk, that there was a chance this was real and not just some drunken mistake John would pretend had never happened the next morning, if he even remembered.

‘Wished it was you,’ he confesses, quietly, and behind him John draws in a sharp breath that shudders out of him in a tortured groan only a few seconds later. ‘Always wish it was you.’

At his sides, John’s knuckles go white against the sink, fingers flexing once, twice, before resettling on the cold porcelain. ‘Don’t say shit like that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ There’s no heat to the words, no reprimand, and Dean presses back, into John’s body, until they are flush, until he can feel the bulge in John’s jeans riding high against his ass, John’s lips dragging messily, uncoordinated, down his cheek.

‘’s all I think about. ‘s why I started doing it in the first place.’ It’s not entirely true but Dean sure as shit isn’t going to fess up about needing the money to buy food for him and Sammy when John had been gone way longer than planned a couple of years ago.

Dean tilts his head to the side when John mouths down his neck, on purpose this time, wet-hot, tongue teasing against the sensitive skin. ‘Always pretend it’s you,’ he continues, moves his hand to cover John’s, drags it to the front of his jeans where there’s still a wet spot from when he’d come in his pants earlier while sucking off some faceless stranger.

John growls, a sound that’s rumbling up from so deep in his chest, Dean can feel the vibration of it against his back. ‘Gonna let me have the real thing?’ Dean asks as he uses what little space he has to turn, face John, and he isn’t prepared for the look of sheer hunger in John’s eyes, pupils blown wide in the darkness of the room.

He drops his hands to John’s belt, fingers the buckle, waits for John to stop him, but he doesn’t. His voice is raw, low and raspy when he says, ‘Goddammit, baby, gonna be the death of me,’ and Dean can feel the flush spreading up his chest, crawling up his neck, making his cheeks pink. He deftly undoes the belt, thumbs open the button, draws the zipper down, watches as John’s eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open in a soft pant. It’s even better than he could ever imagine.

He tugs, fingers on each side, shimmies the jeans off John’s hips, takes the boxers underneath right with it as he drops to his knees, one fluid motion, perfected with years of practice. It stings a bit, his knees still sore from kneeling in gravel earlier but he breathes through it, focuses on what’s right in front of him. And boy, when he wraps his hand around John’s dick, his mouth fucking waters. He knows that John is big, they’ve been living in each other’s pockets all of Dean’s life, he knows, but from down here, on his knees, even only half-hard, it’s impressive and his jaw already aches with the anticipation of what’s to come.

Above him, John white-knuckles the sink with one hand, the other dropping to cup Dean’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone and down to drag over his lower lip, dark eyes watching his face intently. Dean tongues at the digit, just a tease, hand softly squeezing on John’s dick, a slow stroke up to the crown, and John breathes a soft ‘fuck’ as he closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering darkly in the shadows.

The hand leaves and John takes a half-step forward, trapping Dean between his body and the sink as he braces against the wall, the mirror, and Dean takes it as the invitation it is, opens his mouth wide to take John in. He closes his lips around the head, takes it flat onto his tongue and Dean can’t stop the groan at the feeling of John’s dick finally in his mouth, at the salty-sour taste.

This is nothing like all those strangers, he thinks, this is what he’s been waiting for all along. John keeps chubbing up in his mouth and it stretches his lips, wide. He sinks down a little deeper, gets John wet, then pulls off to slick his spit down the length with his fingers. John’s breathing is heavy above him, body tense, curled tight, like he’s preparing for a fight.

Dean strokes him, once, twice, before licking around the head, wicked curl of tongue, and taking him back in, spit slicking the way as John pushes deeper with a slight flex of his hips, rubbing over the soft palate of Dean’s mouth. And fuck, Dean wishes his throat wasn’t so raw already, the drag of John’s dick almost too much when he takes a deep breath through his noses and pushes down further.

John’s hips stutter forward at the sensation and Dean pulls away with a choked cough, tries to catch his breath, as John mutters softly ‘sorry, baby, sorry’ but then his hips hitch forward again, into the loose fist Dean has curled around him. He keeps his fingers around the base this time as he sinks down, relaxes his jaw, to let John fuck into him with impatient little thrusts.

The noise his wet mouth makes is obscene in the quiet of the small room and he drops his free hand into his lap to where he’s already hard again in his jeans. He gives himself a squeeze, hums softly at the spark of pleasure, and John’s breath hitches as he flexes forward, pushing right at Dean’s throat again. Dean lets him this time, gets his own dick free, still sticky from before, and jacks himself in sync with John’s movements.

John curses under his breath, dick jumping in Dean’s mouth, and Dean redoubles his efforts, slides his mouth, wet and open, down as far as he can go, focusing on breathing through his nose. John stills on his next downstroke and the first pulse of come on his tongue almost makes Dean choke.

He pulls back, mouth open, John’s dick on his tongue, jacking him through his orgasm and he holds it there for a moment before swallowing, the hand stripping his own dick almost a blur. He hunches forward, rests his forehead against John’s hip, nuzzling at the juncture of his thigh, as he chases his own high.

When he finally comes, it’s with a high, breathy whine and a ‘fuckin’ Christ, Dean’ from John who cradles his skull, holding him close.

It takes a moment for his breathing to slow, for his heart to stop racing and when he finally pulls away, John takes a step back, the look in his eyes unreadable as he looks down to Dean. The hand slides around to cup his face, and the thumb traces his lip again, slowly, reverently, before John releases him with a pat to his cheek.

‘Get cleaned up, it’s late,’ he says, voice rough, before he steps back, away, swaying gently, leaving Dean on his knees and suddenly feeling cold.

By the time he’s cleaned up and dressed in a sleep shirt and fresh underwear, John is passed out on the bed, jeans still undone, snoring the way he only ever does when he drinks. Dean grabs a bottle of water, takes little sips – it burns to swallow – before sitting down on the edge of the other bed. He nudges Sam, all long lanky limbs sprawled out, taking up all the space, and his brother huffs in his sleep but shifts over anyway, making just enough room for him to slip into the bed beside him.

When Dean wakes the next morning, it’s to Sam already bitching about something or other and John at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, brows furrowed as he tries to make sense of something. The last night feels like a fever dream now and as Dean sits up on the bed, he tries to make eye contact with John, get some kind of acknowledgement, but he has no such luck. John pointedly avoids looking at him, busying himself with squinting at the newspaper with bleary eyes as he takes another sip of coffee.

‘You want coffee?’

Dean blinks at the question, at Sam who’s holding up an empty cup at him in question. ‘Yeah,’ he croaks, voice breaking on the just the one syllable and across the room he can see John stiffen in his seat, while Sam just looks at him funny. ‘You coming down with something?’

Dean clears his throat, tries to ignore the burn as he swallows. ‘Nah, I’m fine.’ He doesn’t sound much better, voice still all scratchy and raw, and his jaw still aches dully, and his knees protest when he pushes to stand. He excuses himself to the bathroom, taking the coffee cup Sam hands him with him. He sets the cup down on the sink, lets his eyes come up to look at his reflection in the mirror.

And there it is, the proof it was real, the smeared handprint on the mirror. Dean touches a finger to it before bringing his hand to his throat, feeling the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, chasing the sense memory of the night before.

[uchihashisuii]

If you’re still taking prompts/ideas, how about V/Vik post Beat on the Brat? Adrenaline/endorphins are high and Vik got hella turned on watching V fight (and win.) BTW you are my absolute savior with all this Vik smut! I love you’re writing so much! The thirst is REEAAALLL

I'm always taking prompts for these two akdkfkksj

Thank you so much for the kind words! I hope you like this one! I am terrible at writing fight scenes lmao sorry about that. But enjoy some smut nonetheless 👀

Recommend listening is Love Lies by Khalid and Normani

CW for a fistfight. Clothed sex and some dirty talk

Read on Ao3 here!

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Vik has to admit he's nervous. He knows V's quick on her feet and quicker with her fists, but going against the sheer size of Razor is enough to put him on edge, not to mention the amount of chrome the guy has. Boxing has weight divisions for a reason, but he can't deny the pure excitement a good old fashioned street brawl brings, especially when the opponents seem clearly outmatched.

But he knows V; not just how quick she is, but her determination. Throw the Gorilla Arms he'd installed for her a week ago into the mix and she has a hell of a good chance.

He'd given her the tipoff about Razor's weak spot, wrapping her knuckles for her before giving her shoulder a squeeze. V's smile was confident as he stepped out of the ring, shooting him a wink before she turned to her opponent, fists raised.

Vik's clapping his hands at the edge of the mat, shouting over the din of the crowd. V's braid is coming apart, stray hairs sticking to her forehead as she ducks and dodges. Soon as she's hit once she'll be half toast, and they both know it. But she's using her size and speed to her benefit, able to dive under Razor's arms or spin to the side each time he makes a move, aiming a swift punch to his gut every time she passes him. Vik can't tear his eyes from her, the sight of her taking a man three times her size to town doing interesting things to his breathing. He's always loved a woman who can fight, especially with her fists; the fact that it's V up there with sweat dripping down her temple and midriff on display makes it all the better, and Vik can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

V holds her hands up, crooking her fingers at Razor in a come here motion, taunting him. The big guy's abdomen is red and his breathing is labored, but he bares his teeth at her, fist pulled back as he barrels for her. V stands her ground and Vik grabs the bottom-most rope, yelling at her to move. But she only grins wider, taking a small step to the side at the last moment, bringing her knee up, hard, to catch Razor in the gut.

He cries out and drops to one knee, breathing hard. V takes advantage and shoves him in the chest, throwing her entire weight at him with a shout. And then Razor's on his back with V straddling his waist, her fists wailing down on his face.

"That's my girl!" Vik shouts, pounding the mat with his hand. Fuck, the sight of her wild-eyed and beating Razor bloody sets his heart racing, and when Fred calls a stop to the fight and declares V the winner he's already climbing the ropes. Vik grabs her around the waist, slinging his arm under her ass and lifting her high as she punches the air. The crowd's chanting her name, V laughing breathlessly as Vik spins her around.

He lowers her to the ground, her hands catching his shoulders as she falls, his hands on her waist. She's still grinning, shaking her head at the situation. Before Vik can tell her how proud he is she's up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Couldn't have pulled that off without you," V says, breathing hard. His hands tighten on her waist of their own accord, and the look she gives him goes straight to his dick. He ducks down to whisper in her ear, throwing caution to the wind.

"You've no idea what seeing you up there did to me," he says, voice low. She tenses against him, pulling back to give him a heavy look, eyes hooded and bottom lip between her teeth.

"Let's get out of here," V says, grabbing him by the hand and shoving through the crowd.

----

They end up on the pier behind the mall, V still leading him by the hand. Vik's happy to let himself be led, watching the sway of her hips as she brings him to an uninhabited part of the pier.

The moment they're far enough from the main thoroughfare, V spins on her heel, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down to her level. Vik's hands go immediately to her hips, pulling her waist so she's flush against him. She kisses him with teeth, moaning against his mouth as her hands roam over his chest. She tastes like sweat and smells like blood, the combination heady enough to harden his cock quickly. His heart is thrumming hard in his chest, and he groans deep in his throat at the feel of V in his hands.

Vik digs his palms into her waist, lifting her easily as he maneuvers them to the nearby railing, setting her down none-too-gently. V's legs wrap around his waist, using his body to keep herself balanced on the thin surface. He moves a hand to hitch her leg higher on his hip, pressing his cock to her cunt as he licks into her mouth. She moans as his tongue teases against hers, moving her hands down to pull desperately at his pants.

Vik's head is swimming from desire, not stopping to think about anything other than the taste of V's mouth and the feel of her body pressed against his. The strength she holds in a body almost half his size is enough to drive him mad, hands tightening against her. He cants his hips forward, encouraging her eager hand as she tugs his zipper down and finally, finally, wraps her fingers around his cock.

His breath leaves him in a groan, V's hand pumping over his shaft.

"Fuck, sweetheart," Vik bites out, burying his face into her neck, biting down on her pulse-point. V moans, her back arching against him.

"Want you," she mumbles out, pressing a kiss to his temple. Vik laughs breathlessly, biting her neck again.

"Didn't quite catch that," he says, thumbs rubbing circles over her exposed hips.

V's stubbornly silent, squeezing her fist around his cock hard. She grins when he gasps her name.

"Fuck me, Viktor," she breathes against his ear, and fuck but he doesn't need to be told twice.

Vik immediately pulls her off the railing and spins her around, her breath leaving her in a gasp when her ribs connect with the metal. Vik rips her shorts down her legs, pulling them to her ankles. Her hands grasp the railing hard enough to turn her knuckles white, gaze focusing on the moon glinting off the water far below. Vik tilts her torso down, making her ass jut out as he pushes her panties to the side. He's too wound up to even say anything before he's sliding the head of his cock over her damp folds, watching her back arch towards him. He runs a hand up her spine before winding her braid in his fist, tilting her head back the moment he thrusts into her.

V gasps his name, his fingers digging into her waist at the sound. Her eyes close and her mouth drops open, cunt clenching hard around his cock. Vik groans, pulling out before slamming back in, tilting his hips so he thrusts up, making her moan. His cock brushes that rough patch inside her, making her legs shake and her stomach clench.

He gives about ten good thrusts before she's coming around his dick, her cunt locking tighter than a vice. Vik gasps at the feeling, hand moving from her waist to her chest, grabbing a handful of her breast and rubbing his palm over her hardened nipple through her shirt. V just quivers from the combined sensations, spasming through each rough, steady thrust.

"Fuck," Vik growls through his teeth, kicking up his rhythm as he shoves his hand under her shirt, pinching and rolling her nipple with his thick fingers. V bites her lip hard enough to break skin, trying not to scream at the feeling of his cock pounding into her.

"How is it possible your cunt got - fucking tighter." Vik's head is tilted back, hips slamming against her ass. V cant help but bear down on his cock at his words, legs still quivering from her orgasm. Noticing her reaction, Vik smiles to himself before speaking again.

"You get so much wetter after coming too," he says, listening to the vulgar sounds their bodies make. "Hear that? Fuck, sweetheart, music to my ears."

V can do nothing but moan, moving to shove a hand down her panties, fingers circling her clit. His name breaks from her lips, knees buckling slightly as she rubs herself faster.

"Fuck, there we go," Vik says, hands moving to grasp at her waist, pulling her back harshly against him with each thrust. V gasps at the change, fingers moving furiously over her clit as he hammers into her. Another orgasm is quickly approaching, tearing a gasp from her throat.

"Please," V gasps out, knowing her orgasm is moments away, "please come, quickly, please, I -"

"Where?" Vik's voice is breathless, slamming into her hard enough that the railing groans, "Tell me where, V."

"Inside," she answers before he's done speaking, back arching and stomach tightening -

Vik's hips stutter, his breath coming out in a wheeze. He buries his face in her hair, plowing his cock into her once - twice -

V falls over the edge, cunt tightening around him as she shouts his name. Her vision goes blurry and her knees sag, her whole body convulsing in pleasure. Vik growls at the feeling, thrusting hard into her and grinding -

He comes with a groan, kissing her hair as he shudders, spilling himself inside her. Vik feels his knees go weak, leaning his weight against her back. He thrusts into her a few more times, groaning at the feel of her soaked cunt around him.

V's barely conscious at this point, head hanging low and hand still in her panties. Vik pulls his softening cock from her cunt, watching his come start to leak from her.

He tucks his dick away before righting her panties, leaning down to pull her shorts back up her legs. V mumbles her thanks, pushing herself back against him when he's done. Vik catches her easily, arms slipping around her waist to cradle her against his chest.

"Fuck," is all she says, and Vik snorts against her hair.

"Yeah," he agrees, because for once, there really isn't much more to say.