#OH YEAH AND I DREW SOME RICK AND CHARLIE

[scoliosisgoblin]

have some doodles I forgot to post ages ago

[stevethehairington]

okay so. overall review:

actually not as bad as i expected it to be! and not as bad as i thought it was going to turn out while i was in the trenches there lol. i still wished it focused a little more on eddie's home life/relationship with his dad and uncle AND his friends, and had way less of the romance stuff (read: none), BUT i will admit that there ended up being a lot less of the romance stuff than i initially expected and a lot less than it seemed like there would be while still in the middle of the book.

the paige stuff still made me uncomfy bc i didn't like the power dynamics there (paige had something eddie wanted desperately, and i don't like the idea that that could have had something to do with his "feelings" for her/why he engaged with them ((esp bc let's be real — he didn't seem super torn up over not getting to be with her in the end)) or that she used that to her advantage bc there was ALSO something in it for her) BUT i will say they did make it slightly less skeezy than i expected bc she was only a couple years older than him instead of like. significantly older like i expected.

i do wish there was more about eddie's friends and their fallout and reconciliation. his friends were super important to him and he just. dropped them. like that. and there was BARELY any blowback. like yeah there was a fight with ronnie, but we never actually got to see the reactions of any of the other hellfire/corroded coffin guys, and i would've liked to see that. same with the reconciliation, it felt very minimal — i would've liked to see more of how that played out too.

I LOVED EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN SECOND OF WAYNE MUNSON CONTENT, THAT MAN IS A GIFT HE IS AN ANGEL I ADORE HIM WITH EVERYTHING IN ME. IF THERE IS ONE THING THIS BOOK HAS DONE IT HAS SOLIDIFIED MY STANCE THAT WAYNE MUNSON IS THE BEST GOD DAMN CHARACTER AND I WOULD DIE FOR HIM.

as for eddie — i think the author did an alright job finding his voice. there were times where i thought she really nailed it, but there were also A LOT of times where i thought "he would never say that!!" "he would never do that!!". it wasn't very consistent, but overall it wasn't awful and there were some good parts!

the other characters we know and love that made cameos — VERY fun to see them (gareth, chrissy, jason, hopper, will, jonathan!!!) gareth was ESPECIALLY fun to see because they really embraced that feral chihuahua boy energy we love to assign to him. BUT. i am SO incredibly upset with how badly they massacred my boy tommy h (whOSE LAST NAME THEY COULDNT EVEN GET RIGHT I MEAN W H A T!?) they fucking. got his characterization SO BAD. it was awful. i am. personally offended by it (joking, mostly rhsjsi). (as a tommy lover i am. devastated tho. HE WOULD NOT DO THAT!!!)

OH ALSO — reefer rick. WHAT a fun dude. hes out here in his robe and bunny slippers drinking darjeeling tea, living it up. what a guy.

id like to give a huge FUCK YOU to principal higgins too! they made that dude a straight up MONSTER. he was unnecessarily CRUEL and some of the things he said straight up to eddies face,,,,,,, sir what the FUCK. i know the 80s was a different time but jesus fucking cHRIST was casual cruelty and bullying from grown ass ADULTS commonplace? i sure hope not.

ALSO FUCK AL MUNSON LIVES ALL MY HOMIES HATE AL MUNSON LIVES. that man was AWFUL, TRULY HONESTLY GENUINELY THE WORST. neglectful and cruel and downright AWFUL. NOT ONLY DID HE CONSISTENTLY ABANDON EDDIE THROUGHOUT HIS LIFE BUT THEN HE DREW EDDIE INTO HIS SCHEMES, CONNED HIM, FUCKED UP REAL BIG, AND THEN LEFT EDDIE IN THE ASHES OF THEIR — OF HIS — HOME AS THE ONLY PERSON LEFT WITH THE COP WHO GOT SHOT AND IS LIKE SLOWLY BLEEDING OUT. TALK ABOUT FUCKING TRAUMA WHAT THE FUCK. i hope he got flayed ALIVE by charlie greene lmao it would serve him right that absolute twat waffle.

also, im gonna be real. the end of that book was actually INSANELY depressing. like, it tried to be positive because you gotta end on a positive note right? but it just fell. COMPLETELY flat. bc we all know what happens to eddie in canon. he's sitting there reenrolling in school, peacoking around about how he's GOING to finish high school and he's GOING to graduate and he's GOING to show principal higgins that he CAN do it and that he ISNT the fuckup deliquent he's convinced he is. BUT WE ALL KNOW HE DOESNT FUCKING GET THAT IN CANON. he's taking waynes advice and fully embracing who he is and he's learning to be comfortable in his own skin and to rise above all the noise of people who don't like him and think he's a freak. ONLY WE KNOW HE NEVER TRULY GETS TO DO THAT EITHER BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HOW IT ENDS IN CANON. so yeah it just ends up being a REALLY fucking BLEAK ending because all of that "positivity" is absolutely tainted. it's fucking soured. and i am once again INSANELY INFURIATED about eddies death. so fuck the duffers, again.

also, eddie munson literally never caught a fucking break. not one fucking break. his ENTIRE life was just one series of tragedies after the other and it truly just continued on that way until he fucking died. honestly, its a goddamn MIRACLE that he has ANY ounce of positivity and optimism and hope left in his life when we get to him in s4. thatd how utter dogshit a hand he has been dealt in life. and it only.got worse from there. and i will NEVER forgive ANYONE involved in his creation for that.

so yeah! that concludes my journey reading flight of icarus. it was a wild ride lol.

[starkerfilth]

hacker!au ; part 2 / starker

Part 1

(have fun reading! you might enjoy listening to ‘no angel’ by charli xcx to this)

"Morning, Dawkins." Tony gave his coworker as nod as he passed his desk. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, a folder in the other.

Mike returned the nod. "Morning, Stark. Hey—come over here for a sec."

"What is it?"

"Just come." The officer's voice was hushed like he didn't want everyone around them to hear.

Tony sighed. He made his way around Dawkins' neatly organized desk.

"So?" He took a sip of his coffee. No milk, a sprinkle of sugar. Just how he liked it.

"Did you hear about the hacker kid?" Mike asked.

Tony raised a brow. "Parker?"

"Yeah."

"What about him? I had him in interrogation yesterday." —Meaning, I'm pretty sure I know whatever you're going to tell me.

"They're gonna let him go."

Tony almost spat his coffee back out.

"They what?"

"I

know,"

Mike muttered. He typed something into his keyboard.

Tony frowned. "Why?"

Mike pointed at his computer screen. He'd typed Peter Parker into the search bar and came up with a clean record. "I don't know. But on here, he's never even been accused of anything."

Tony put his folder down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't get it."

"It's foul play, Stark, I'm tellin' ya."

Tony pressed his lips together.

We'll see about that, Officer, Peter had said.

"Damn right it is," He eventually commented grimly. His fingers drummed on the file he'd put down.

"So what you gonna do? It's your case."

The officer bit his lip. "Looks like I have some ass to kick. Fuckin' rookie criminals." He cleared his throat, picked his folder up and walked to his desk two slots away.

After a few restless minutes, he gave up and marched to the overnight detainment cells.

Bucky was unlocking Peter's cell just as Tony got there. A man in an expensive-looking suit waited on the other side. He was on the phone with someone, defined brows forming a frown.

"Mister Parker." Tony gave the boy a curt nod.

Peter smiled at him as he walked out of the cell as if he owned the building and wasn't held custody in it. Something explosive about the way his lips curled—like he was a bomb just waiting to be ignited. "Hello, Officer Stark. Slept well, I hope?"

Tony gave the businessman another glance. He wasn't looking at Tony, but it was always better to behave like he was being watched.

"Sure," He grumbled.

He quietly stood next to Bucky as Peter was handed his things—a key, a few rings and a pack of chewing gum.

"Peter." The boy's guardian put an arm around his shoulders.

"Hi." Peter looked at the guy almost like he was satisfied—like he was proud—and Tony felt like he was missing something here.

"He hasn't been too much of a hassle, I hope?"

Peter's smile died as soon as his guardian looked away.

Devious little thing.

"He's not much paperwork, that's for sure," Tony couldn't help but comment dryly.

The man gave him an even drier chuckle.

"Let's hope there's no need to meet again." Peter's guardian shook everyone's hands and then swiftly turned around. Peter looked over his shoulder and a gave Tony a cheeky wink. They left without another word.

Once the doors slid closed behind the pair, Bucky exhaled audibly. "What a brat."

---

A dig through the archive revealed that a certain Rick Bellfort, head of the multi-million dollar company Bellfort Co., had adopted a teenage boy a few years ago.

Rick Bellfort was also one of the city's biggest sponsors.

"Fucking rich people," Tony muttered under his breath as he tucked the files back into the folder.

---

Come and find me, Officer, the graffiti read. A boy blowing a gum bubble was drawn next to the words.

Tony felt a crack as he tightened his grip around the flashlight.

"Fucking Parker." He kicked the cobble that covered the ground in front of the hotel. "Fucking Bellfort. That who you work for, huh?" he muttered to himself.

The light roamed across the wall and the floor. The pink paint had dribbled down the bricks like it had been too much, too fast. Tony could still smell the chemical stench in the air.

It took him too long to piece it together.

This was new.

The kid might still be around.

Tony cursed under his breath and swirled around. There had to be traces of footsteps in the cobble—

Or a visible dent with white perking out from underneath.

Tony slipped his leather glove back on and pulled the piece of paper.

Find me where I live like Elizabeth for as many dawns as the sugar allows. — P.P.

Fucking riddles.

Tony crumpled the paper and stomped across the cobble to his car. Je wasn't going to play this little brat's games. There were more serious crimes that needed solving.

And yet. Tony Stark wasn't one to give up.

His fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

"Live like Elizabeth—Elizabeth, who's Elizabeth?"

His eyes darted around. The parking lot. The cobble. The chewing gum. Come and find me.

Queen Elizabeth.

Live like a queen.

"As many dawns as the sugar allows—dawns are nights. As many nights as the sugar allows. As many nights, as many nights..."

What was sugar for a rich kid?

Tony looked around once more. The streetlights. The lights burning in the houses all around. The hotel.

Tony wanted to punch himself. The hotel.

The presidential suite.

Find me where I live like a queen for as many nights as the money allows. — Peter Parker

"Little bitch," Tony spat.

He got out of the car.

The concierge raised his eyes as Tony entered.

The lobby was decorated in decadent blues and silvers. A black Steinway stood on the side. The pattering of a fountain accompanied the low classical music that came from speakers Tony couldn't locate.

His steps echoed through the lobby as he walked up to the concierge.

He cleared his throat. "Hello. I'm—"

"You must be Mister Stark. Mister Parker is waiting for you."

The suit-clad man handed him a gold-plated key card with an intricate design engraved at the top.

Tony cleared his throat again. "Thank you."

What am I doing here? He asked himself as he stepped into the elevator.

He was playing Parker's game. This was all power play. Was he supposed to shuffle the cards again? Or would playing along be the recipe for success? Peter had confessed that he'd hacked the system only after Tony had let him play his game after all. Maybe this was what this was. A thrill, no matter the price. Even if it was a night in a cell or an officer losing his cool.

For Peter, it was calculated fun. For Tony, it was a precarious gamble.

I'll defeat you, Parker. Just you wait.

The elevator music stopped to allow a soft 'ding' as the doors slid open.

There was only one door on this floor.

Tony slid the key card across the scanner. The door opened with a low humming sound.

No going back.

Hand on his gun.

The suite was the most decadent thing Tony had ever seen in front of him.

Deep red and gold adorned every piece of furniture. A chandelier bestowed light onto the entrance area. Shoes with a golden Gucci logo on them laid on an intricately woven mat, one over the other as if they had been tossed.

Tony advanced into the living room area. Gold and red everywhere. Wealth dripping from every inch of the space.

A quiet cough drew Tony’s eyes back up.

And there, silently, stood Peter, so fucking coy, so fucking pretty.

Mesmerized. That was the only way to describe it. Tony was utterly and completely mesmerized by Peter's figure leaning against the pillar, body wrapped in a pink silk robe. There was a slit starting at the waist that revealed lithe, naked legs.

Peter had looked beautiful with bags under his eyes and a grey ensemble when Tony had arrested him, but this—God, like this, Peter was the most beautiful being Tony had ever seen.

And that look of innocence all over his face.

"Hello, Officer."

Tony gulped. His throat was suddenly dry. "Peter Parker."

"I take it you've gotten my message?" Eyelashes fluttering. Pretty, Tony thought. He's devious!, he tried to remind himself. But—God.

Tony blinked. The gun in its holster pressed against his thigh.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything." A playful smile danced around Peter's lips. He took slow, deliberate steps, toes pointed as if he had to walk tip-toed. His hips were in a gentle, natural sway, accentuated by the robe.

The piece of clothing rustled gently with every movement.

"Wait."

There was a small pout on Peter's lips as he turned his head upward to face the officer. "What's the matter?"

The robe stilled shortly after the boy had. Now that he got a closer look, Tony could see glitter on Peter's lips and a trace of lace perking out from underneath the robe.

His mouth watered.

They couldn't be doing this. He couldn't. But Tony's knees were weak, something in his gut sparking warm and wanting.

"Thought so," Peter said. There it was again, that fucking grin. Tony didn't want to admit it, but it was impossible to deny that it ignited a wildfire inside him.

"No, I—" Tony stopped, cleared his throat. Peter's hands slid across the silk to reach for the hems of the robe. A baby pink cord held it closed at the waist. The officer gulped. "I came to—"

Peter's slender fingers—good God, that was pastel pink nail polish—pulled at the cord.

Like in slow motion, the robe fell open.

There stood Peter, in nothing but pink lace panties and the robe, nipples perking up as the semi-warm air hit the boy's chest.

"Fuck," Tony whispered.

Peter's cheeks were red, his cock tenting the lingerie, but under his lashes, he was watching Tony.

"Do you like it?" Peter asked. His lashes fluttered.

Tony caught himself wanting to nod.

Slowly, he started shaking his head.

"Fuck. I'm— I'm on goddamn duty. I came to fucking arrest you, no to fu—"

Innocence gone. The beast came out now. Peter snarled. "But do you want that?"

No.

"Yes."

Peter smiled. Out of all the things he could have done, he smiled. And took another step closer. His robe curled around Tony’s ankle for a moment before falling back.

“Oh, Officer,” The boy muttered, looking up at Tony through his lashes.

Shuffle the cards again, Stark.

Tony’s glance flicked from Peter’s half-lidded eyes to his shimmering lips and back up.

Gently, he cupped Peter’s cheek. The boy leaned into the touch as Tony’s calloused thumb stroked the soft skin. A soft keen left his mouth that had dropped open involuntarily.

“You needed this, hm?” Tony asked, voice low and rough. He dragged his thumb further across Peter’s face until it caught at the boy’s lip. As if on command, Peter’s lips closed around the finger and started sucking. A lovely shade of red blossomed on his face.

Tony chuckled. “Cute,” He said coldly. He pulled the finger from the boy’s mouth (which earned him an adorable little whine) and wiped the spit on his uniform.

“Turn around for me, pet.”

Peter did as he was told. Tony hummed. “Good boy.”

Another one of those delightful sounds from Peter’s throat.

Shuffle the cards. Buy time.

Tony pulled the boy closer until their bodies were pressed against the other. His breath fanned against Peter’s neck. Goosebumps formed where it hit.

“What happened to your lawful obligation, Officer?” Peter asked, a giggle in his voice.

Bluff.

“Honey, I do as I please,” Tony murmured. His hands ran down Peter’s arms, straightening the silk. The boy shuddered under the touch.

“Besides, isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Peter’s smile was evident in his voice. “You know me too well, Officer.” He was pliant, now. Way too sure that he had already won. Tony peppered wet kisses on the boy’s neck.

“And how well do you know me?”

His hand trailed Peter’s waist, the kind of touch firm enough to be felt, delicate enough to leave the boy light-headed and wanting more.

“You have no idea,” Peter replied.

Play your Ace.

The handcuffs clicked and closed around Peter’s wrists.

Indignant silence. From the corner of his eye, he sees Peter struggling for words.

"Bitch," The boy eventually huffed. "That's not how it's supposed to go."

Tony smirked. His arms snaked around Peter's waist. "This game has never been fair, sweetheart."

"Fuck, I—"

"Language, dear," Tony chided.

"Don't fucking call me that, who do you—"

Peter's voice faded out as Tony ran a hand across the expanse of his lower belly. The muscles contracted and released, a lovely little shiver rushing over the exposed skin.

"Hm?" he teased, grin pressed into the soft flesh of Peter's neck. "You were saying?"

"I said—God, don't stop, oh—I said don't call me—" The boy squirmed, body pulling into the officer's touch and away from it at the same time.

Tony clicked his tongue. "Don't call you what? Dear? Sweetheart? Honey? Because if I remember correctly, and I always do, you really liked those a few moments ago."

"You have no idea what the fuck I like, sir," Peter spat, but his hips were stuttering as he tried not to rock them up.

The officer laughed coldly. "Then why are you still calling me sir like the little slut you are? You're rutting your hips like a bitch in heat and I didn't even touch your pathetic little cock."

Peter made a wretched sound in the back of his throat.

"You like that, huh?" Tony murmured, greedy for more of those pitiful noises. His hands grazed the insides of Peter's thighs and the dips of his waist, never going where the boy really wanted him to. "Like it when I call you my little whore? All dressed up for me to ruin you, weren't you?"

The boy was nothing short of a mess, body melting into Tony's hold, whimpers escaping his open mouth.

"Use your words," He ordered.

"Stop ah-asking questions, just touch me," Peter urged.

Tony hummed, satisfied. "As you wish." He slid a hand across the supple flesh of Peter's thigh and finally cupped Peter's clothed cock with his big palm.

The boy's head dropped back and onto Tony's shoulder in a loud moan.

There was already a damp spot where Peter's cock tented the lingerie. Tony circled that spot with his thumb, relishing the pretty sounds the boy made right into his ear. "Fuck, da— mh, oh—" The boy brabbled, barely coherent.

"That's right..." Tony muttered, squeezing Peter's clothed cock, coaxing all the prettiest sounds out of him.

Peter's breathing got even heavier, lashes fluttering, so Tony finally slipped his hand into the panties. He collected the precum that had collected at the tip and used it to stroke the boy's cock, pace fast and unrelenting.

With another twist of his wrist, he drove Peter over the edge, drawing a carnal sound right from his chest. The ropes of cum dirtied the lingerie and Tony's hand, but he couldn't care less, milking the boy's climax for all it was worth, soaking up all the delicious sounds, whispering praise into Peter's ear.

He only let go when the boy whimpered from the overstimulation. The heavy breathing calmed and Tony helped Peter stand up straight again.

"Those handcuffs are tight," The boy complained.

Tony shook his head disapprovingly. "You're still coming to the station with me."

"I—what?" Peter turned around, looking appalled.

"You heard me. Don't think I forgot what you planned. Let's get you cleaned up."

Tony led Peter to the spacious bathroom. He wiped the cum off of both of them, ignoring his own aching hard cock.

"But—why?"

Tony clicked his tongue. "Would you really call this a punishment for what you did?"

The boy stayed silent.

"Exactly."

---

— Tony had thought that after that night, Peter would be satisfied and go after normal rich kid hobbies, like golfing or gambling.

But four weeks later, after the dreams of Peter's scrunched-up, blissed-out face slowly started fading, he got a call.

Vandalism. Manhattan. Bellfort's factory walls.

And Peter Parker crying in their questioning room.

----------------------------------

hi! part 2 is finally up, i hope it lives up to expectations ;;. i had so much fun while writing this, their dynamic is just drool-worthy oh god. i’ll probably make a third part to explore this whole thing a little more !! tell me what you think.

taglist: @plueschpop @believe-that-001 @this-starker-hoe @areluctantsblog @pleasedontfollwme

[elizaviento]

A Day Without Laughter Is A Day Wasted

This is a short, ridiculous piece of pure smut inspired by weird conversations with @e-22912, who is the absolute worst influence on me.  I told you I’d do it!!

A Day Without Laughter Is A Day Wasted

(Rick Sanchez x Reader)

NSFW -- 1200 words.  Odd sex toy play and laughter.  Lots of laughter.

“Uh, what the hell is that?” I asked, eyeing Rick warily as he emerged from my bedroom in nothing but his boxers and some type of ridiculous contraption strapped to his face.

“It’s a chin strap dildo, baby,” he confirmed.  His grin was distorted by the way the strap stretched the skin around his mouth and the bright pink dildo bobbed up and down as he talked.

“Oh my god,” I laughed.  Nothing about this was sexy.  In fact, I laughed even harder as he closed the distance between us and roughly pulled me into his arms.  The latex protrusion poked my cheek and neck as he attempted to kiss me.  “Get off me!”

Now he was the one laughing as I forcefully shoved him away.  “Come on, kitten, open – spread those thighs for me, yeah?”

“God damn it,” I groaned as he walked back toward my bedroom and motioned for me to follow.  No matter how fucking weird Rick looked with that synthetic dick strapped to his chin, I could already sense his determination to try out his new toy.

Rounding the corner, I covered my face in my hands when I spied Rick slathering lube on the chin cock.  

“What on earth made you buy that?” I asked as I positioned myself on the bed and kicked off my shoes before stripping the remainder of my clothing.

“‘Cause I-I-I want – wanna make you squirt,” he stated, matter-of-factly as he grasped my ankles and yanked me toward the foot of the mattress.  Without my permission, my body instantly responded as the warm sensation of arousal settled in the base of my spine.  Rick had been at this task for days now and, even though he was yet to succeed, I’d had an amazing time allowing him to try. 

So, even though I continued to giggle as he hooked my knees over his shoulders, I relented; rising on one elbow to watch as I threaded my fingers through his hair and gripped at his scalp in encouragement.  

“Just – uh – just relax for me this time, kitten,” he cooed as he slipped two digits through my lips before spreading them wide, exposing my most intimate area to his gaze.  “Mmhmm, al-already nice and wet.  That’s it – that’s a good girl.”

At this point, his voice alone already had me tilting my hips forward and upward in anticipation of his talented tongue, but the ridiculous dildo stood in my way and I whined.  Chuckling at my protest, he positioned the tip at my entrance and pressed his face forward.  Once fully inserted, his mouth was now situated where I needed it the most and he pulled back the hood of my clit with one hand while the other adjusted the strap wrapped around his head, causing the dildo to shift and jostle inside me.

“Ah!” I cried, the feeling of fullness taking my breath away as my cunt clenched around the thick toy.  Rick chuckled at my reaction, which only served to jiggle it inside me more and I gripped his hair even tighter.  “This isn’t going to work.  Get rid of that stupid thing and let’s just fuck like normal, okay?  I’ll even let you put it in my ass this time.”

“Mmm, no way, baby.  I-I-I can tell you love it.”

The toy shifted again ��� with each movement of his chin – and I laughed.  Something about this… I couldn’t bring myself to find it sexy.  Rick’s mouth on my pussy?  Hell, yeah.  I had even begged him for that shit.  But, this?  

Sensing my continued hesitation, he decided to cut the chatter and get down to business; wrapping his lips around my exposed bundle of nerves and gently suckling the way he knew drove me wild, he soon had me sighing and mewling in absolutely bliss.  And, when I drew close, he could, no doubt, feel my cunt clench around the dildo with my impending orgasm.  

“Baby,” he began, pulling back just slightly.  The small movement caught my attention once more and, now that I was sufficiently worked up, felt amazing.  “Grind that pussy on my face.”

Rising up on one elbow, once more, I readjusted my grip on his hair and did as instructed; rolling my hips aggressively as he continued to lavish attention on my clit with his slick tongue.  However, no matter how incredible it felt, the visual was still just as hilarious.

“Rick,” I said with a mixture of giggles and moans.  “Oh my god…”  I could feel the orgasm building each time I rolled my hips and the soft yet firm dildo ground delightfully against my g-spot.  But, I couldn’t control the bubbles of laughter as they worked their way up my chest.  They continued to erupt as small giggles at first as the pleasure mounted but soon morphed into delirious fits, wracking my body almost painfully.  And, through it all, Rick managed to keep his concentration – flicking and massaging and rolling and swiping his tongue across my clit with laser like focus that was downright commendable.  He was most definitely on a mission and I could tell that he wouldn’t be giving up on this session until I completely defiled is face.

So, I gave in to it; pulling his hair with force now – shoving his face and the dildo even deeper in my cunt – I continued to watch and laugh.  And, something… odd, began to happen.  The continuous fits of laughter that had overtaken me pumped and flooded my circulatory system with drum barrels of endorphins, making me nearly insane with joy and compounding the pleasurable sensation of the dildo and Rick’s tongue to a degree that was overwhelming.  

Holy shit, I thought as every muscle in my body tensed.  He’s really gonna do it.  He’s gonna make me squirt while I’m laughing harder than I have in my –

“Oh – oh – oh my god!  Oh fuck!” I screamed between barking laughs, my thoughts cut off completely when every nerve ending in my upper half dulled to focus all sensation to my lower.  

“Shit yeah, kitten, soak my face,” Rick mumbled, the slight movement of his chin rolling the silicone dick on the perfect spot at just the perfect moment.  And, I snapped.  A guttural scream ripped from my throat as the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced localized deep inside and pulsed outward through my body and my cunt in wave after wave.

It seemed to go on forever and the wonderful, tiny aftershocks had me whimpering and trembling like a newborn.  And, still, I continued to giggle as Rick pulled the toy back and out of me.  

He was an absolute mess and I covered my face in my hands as it fumed like a furnace.  But, peeking between my fingers, I caught him stretching the straps to lift the dildo up and over his head before tossing it unceremoniously beside me on the bed; his expression smug and infuriating.  

“Sure you – uh – y-y-you want me to get rid of it now, baby?” he asked, crawling his way up my body.  

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

The End.

P.S.  The title is a Charlie Chaplin quote.  I’m so sorry.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

December 12, Christmas Caryl

my newest fic: Carol tries to guess Daryl’s favorite Christmas movie (also on 9L)

It’s a Wonderful Life

“Now look here,” Daryl instructed, pointing to some wires underneath the hood of the mustang and holding one between his thumb and forefinger. “This one connects here...” He fiddled with the wire as Carl leaned in close.

Pulling her coat tightly around herself, Carol watched from the opposite side of the hood. She’d learned a lot since Daryl had offered to show them, in rotating shifts, how to check, fix, and up-keep their cars—and sometimes his motorcycle. Just another way they all made each other stronger and bolstered their community, especially now that they had gates and walls and beds and weapons.

Glenn and Maggie continued mapping the tombs, Michonne and Sasha strategized escape routes and employed test runs, Hershel taught Rick farming and gardening, and Daryl educated them on vehicle maintenance and weaponry. Thankfully, they’d raised the outdoor kitchen just before the cold weather hit, and now they spent their days maintaining what they’d acquired. The council had even decided to celebrate Christmas, which had made Carl antsy the past few days.

Carol watched the kid bounce up and down on the balls of his feet as Daryl instructed him on the finer points of car care. He’d already asked Daryl to dismiss him twice, but the man took his teaching role seriously. “Soon’s we’re done, you can head back in to work on your Christmas gifts,” he’d told Carl, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. Carl had sighed but resigned himself.

Daryl’s voice drew her back to the present. “…and the car won’t start if it ain’t connected.” He looked at Carl, who nodded, then flicked his eyes to her, eyebrows raised with a question.

With a small smile, she mimicked Carl, and he bent over the car again.

“Now, Imma take it out, and you can try.” He reached down to undo his work.

“Carl?”  

Carl and Carol watched Mika approach just as Daryl cried out.

“Son of a…nutcracker!” he finished, his eyes on the young girl.

Carol turned back around to see Daryl, whipping his hand back and forth, clearly in pain but no worse for the wear. She sucked her cheeks in to refrain from laughing, facing Mika again in order to hide her mirth.  

“Carl, Rick said it’s your turn to watch Judith. He needs to check his traps before dark.”

“Go ahead. We’ll pick this up again later,” Daryl affirmed, his voice laced with pain, when Carl looked to him for permission to leave.

The kids ran off together, and Carol sidled up to Daryl. “What happened?”

He peered down at her, mirth in her eyes, though she sounded concerned. “Ain’t nothin’” he assured her, holding his right hand in his left.

“Come on,” she coaxed, reaching for his hand. “Lemme see.”

Daryl watched helplessly as Carol, a force of nature he’d already succumbed to, drew his hand toward her with a commanding but easy pull, her gaze inspecting his smashed fingers, her lingering touch light but sensual.

He cleared his throat, trying to reign himself in. “Will I live, Doc?”

Carol turned his hand over, her fingers grazing his palm, and continued inspecting his hand intently. “I do believe so,” she murmured, slowly dragging her fingertips along his skin as she let his hand go.

He stared at her intently, praying his boiling blood would cool in time not to make a fool of himself, as she looked up at him.

“So…Elf, huh?”

“Pfff,” he puffed out, embarrassed she’d caught the reference. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Oh, come on. ‘Son of a nutcracker’?” She chuckled. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for an Elf-watcher.”

“What’s Elf?” he tried again to play ignorant.

She smiled gently, a look of nostalgia crossing her face. “Sophia watched it for the first time a few years ago. She laughed through the entire thing. And then watched it on repeat the entire Christmas season. I considered breaking the DVD just so I didn’t have to watch it anymore, but it would’ve destroyed her little Elf-loving heart.” Carol came back to herself, focusing on Daryl. “I’d recognize a quote from that movie anywhere.” She smiled at him. “So really…Elf?”

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.

“Was that your favorite Christmas movie?” she prodded, leaning one hip against the car and crossing her arms, a teasing smile lacing her tone.

“It ain’t ‘cause I wanted ta see it,” he defended himself, frustrated, and snatched the red rag from his back pocket to wipe the grease off his hands.“Damn Merle…every time he’d get high or piss-drunk between Halloween and Christmas, he’d put that idiotic movie on and laugh like a fool. Used ta irritate the hell outta me. Til he’d laugh so hard I couldn’t help joinin’ in.” He shook his head in derision. “Bunch a damn hyenas, we were.”

He looked up at Carol to see her smiling, not at him, making fun, but with simple pleasure at his story.

“So…is that your favorite Christmas movie, then?”

He huffed. “Not in a million.” He motioned for Carol to move as he prepared to close the hood of the car.

She stepped around to stand next to him as the hood fell and latched into place. “What is it, then?”

Daryl glanced down at her, not deigning to answer, though one side of his mouth quirked up.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Ain’t got a favorite,” he stated, cupping his hands around his mouth and blowing warm breath on them. “Come on, let’s go inside and warm up.”

He ambled toward the prison, slowing his gait to match hers.

“Come on, everyone has a favorite Christmas movie. Even a Scrooge like you,” she added playfully when he remained silent.

He chuffed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and kept walking.

“Is that it?” She hopped along sideways, facing him, eagerly awaiting an answer. “Is your favorite movie A Christmas Carol?”

Daryl glanced around the courtyard, finding it empty, and took her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and murmured, “Carol is always my favorite,” before placing a sweet kiss on top of her hand.

Carol blushed, overcome by the sincerity in his tone, the tenderness of his touch, and a shy smile bloomed on her face.

Though they hadn’t spoken any type of commitment to one another, they’d grown closer recently. Close enough she’d almost call them a tentative couple. Even still, she felt much more comfortable with teasing and tempting him into embarrassment than being the object of his compliments and direct but searing affection.

She eased her hand gracefully out of his, willing her heart to calm down, and tried to re-command the conversation. “Nice try, Romeo. So it is A Christmas Carol?”

He shook his head, half-amused. “Here I am spoutin’ romantic shit, and all you wanna talk about are Christmas movies.”

“Some Christmas movies are ‘romantic shit’,” she mockingly chided.

He gave her a doubtful look.

“The Holiday, Love Actually, every single Christmas movie the Hallmark Channel aired each year.”

Daryl chuckled good-naturedly. “Di’you buy into that romantic shhhowcase of Christmas love?” he corrected himself mid-sentence at her look of disdain.

“I didn’t ‘buy into’ it. But it was a nice escape from the Christmas tragedy I lived.”

She watched sorrow and regret tinge his expression.

“None of that,” she reprimanded gently, cupping his face with one hand. “Besides, not all Christmas romance is shit.”

She stood on tiptoes as she guided his head down until their lips met. Shivers ran down her body—and not only from the chill of the air.

“So…” she murmured as she pulled away. “Clearly those movies weren’t your favorite.”

“Carol is, like I said,” he muttered, chasing her lips for another kiss.

She smiled against his hot, eager mouth and sunk into his warmth as he slid his arms around her. She tangled her fingers in his bed-head mess of hair, letting him play out a few moments of his favorite Carol.

“Hmm,” he hummed when she eventually pulled away. “Maybe you were wrong. Maybe I do like romantic Christmas movies.”

She withdrew from his arms, a cheeky smile on her face. “Maybe we can make one of our own then,” she murmured seductively, backing slowly away from him. She watched a light blush grow on his cheeks and eagerness fill his eyes. “As soon as you tell me your favorite Christmas movie.”

“You’re a damn tease,” he growled.

Carol shrugged, slowly walking backwards toward cell block A. “Are you complaining?”

“Right now I am. I told you: I ain’t got a favorite.”

“I don’t believe you for a second,” she admitted cheerfully. “What about Charlie Brown’s Christmas? Or the old claymation movies: Frosty or Rudolph?”

The look of disgust on his face had her giggling.

“Something more spirited like Miracle on 34th Street or White Christmas?”

Daryl shook his head, eyeing the ground where he toed the crack in the cement. “Alright, fine,” he sighed. “But you cain’t laugh.”

Carol signed a cross over her heart with one finger. “No more than you did learning my love for romantic shit Christmas movies.”

He glared, but she just continued smiling cheekily at him. Finally, he spoke. “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Carol glanced around the prison yard. “I wouldn’t say it’s wonderful, but we’re doing better than we have since the Turn.”

He stared blankly at her, her deadpan expression nearly convincing him she’d missed the reference, but he knew better.

“I’m serious.”

“Aww, really?” she gushed, pleasantly surprised at his answer.

“Yeah. ‘S just…that man had it so tough.” He shuffled closer to her as he spoke. “Born into a life he didn’t want, got trapped by his family. He kept pushin’ on but didn’t get anywhere. Didn’t know people cared about him. Thought everyone he knew’d be better off with him dead. I ain’t at all as good as him—never did things to help others like him—but…I know that feelin’. Couldn’t help sympathizin’…”

Carol had closed the remaining distance between them as he spoke and placed a hand against his chest, over his heart.

He peered down at her, at the ache in her eyes for him. “Saw it for the first time when I was…probably 14. My nana used to watch it. Made us watch it, too. Some years, when Merle wasn’t around, she’d tell me…” He swallowed hard, and she stared up at him, riveted by this piece of Dixon history. “She’d tell me he reminded her of me. She’s the only one who thought I was smart. Could do more than just…follow in Merle’s footsteps. She knew I felt trapped, and…well, she’s the only one who saw me as more than another male to carry on the Dixon legacy of tragically failin’ at life.”

“Oh, Daryl,” she sighed with a mixture of ache and love, her heart hurting with each beat at the pain in his past.

He stared down at the woman before him, this woman who’d coaxed a silly memory from Before from him with a few teasing words and her heart of compassion.

“Turned out okay in the end though,” he assured her, “Everyone pulled together. Helped him back on his feet. Made him feel whole again. Let him know they cared about him, that he had more value than just what he could do for them.”

She nodded, understanding the depth of his words carried far beyond the movie she’d so loved.

“He got his ‘Mary’ Christmas,” he punned, sliding a hand through her hair to cup her head, a small smirk on his face. “An’ I got my Christmas ‘Carol.’”

He kissed her again, tenderly, gently, imbuing his affection with all the love that he’d never received.

Though her eyes slid closed, they stung with tears for the man in her arms, this man whom no one had treated kindly but whose arms held her fragile heart like a treasure.

He really was the redneck George Bailey of the apocalypse.