#bald bloke

[cirrates]

they need to make trans seinfeld real so I can play trans george costanza.

[hautaaja]

‘but what if testosterone makes you lose your hair!’ then i’ll simply be bald & beautiful. next question

[apparentlytheproblem]

j e a l o u s y

fandom- Harry Potter

pairing(s)- theodore nott

a/n: this isn't the best but it's something i wrote to one of my favourite bois, requests are forever open, luv, teddy

requested- yes

warnings- none i think-

Theodore Nott, the king of the hearts of the innocent with all his pride which no one could strip from him, all the power which no one could touch, the one so high from all, that no one would play against his will.

then why oh why was everything he had built for himself, his charm, his walls, his cool, all fumbling and crumbling beneath him when you arrived?

you weren't his girlfriend, why should he care what you did or with who you did. he shouldn't be bothered.

But it did

the music blared, and the common room was fully alive but his eyes never left you for the two hours in the Slytherin party after a excellent match as a bloke tried so desperately to talk you up. So desperate to get just a smile from his girl. its as if he actually thought she would want to be near him or his drunk antics which just seemed to light the fire in Nott more.

At this point he was stumbling attempting to twirl a strand of your hair as you tried to gently move away from getting beer spilt over your dress.

"touch her and i'll break your neck"

A hand slid through you waist, but it was the hand with a snake coiled ring you recognized by touch. the arm dragged her away into the crowd, leaving the bloke confused and high.

"how many bloody times have i told you not to that Nott?"

"as if you'd be caught anywhere near his pants"

"what if I did? atleast he shows consistent interest"

I shouldn't have said that

you thought he would be frustrated, or at least mad. instead he did the most unexpected thing expected from Theodore Nott. he revealed a smile spread out on his face. an absolutley stunning one where it showcased its dimples and made your heart do leaps.

"you're so cute, but not in a I wanna pat you head but in a I wanna push you up against the wall, and show that balding bitch who's name you'll be screaming for the rest of your damn life"

"And my darling, i will do everything in my power to show you that i am the only man you will ever lay eyes on as long as i live and breathe."

[phoenixcatch7]

The Wayne doll house

Have some haunted doll au, since it's been bubbling away in my mind.

The bat cave is large and sprawling, many layers and tunnels and hollowed out cracks in the walls. It takes many years to fully reinforce to prevent stray kids from tripping into stagnant waters or fall down crags as he once did. The doll cave, as it becomes known, is in one of the deepest, darkest corners, one where the lights of the furnished caverns above don't reach.

It's one late night sitting at the computer when it suddenly occurs to Bruce that his first encounter with a doll was at the well entrance, many levels above.

There was nothing there when he went back.

-

The justice league stared at the subaru. The subaru, having no eyes, did not stare back.

The seven of them had just finished a very long, arduous mission, and narrowly escaped government censure after the base they'd been raiding had turned out to belong to some corrupt official. With the alert up, they couldn't escape through city airspace, or even in their hero suits.

So civilian it was.

Batman had hotwired some bloke's car while the rest of them ducked into alleys and shop bathrooms, but the problem remained. There was seven of them. And five seats.

"I can shift into something more suitable for being carried," suggested j'onn, "but I believe one of us might have to hide."

"Foot well?" Hal tried, and everyone looked around at the tall, bulky, broad heroes.

"Think they'd have to go in the boot," Barry finally said. Everyone immediately turned to him. "No."

Batman spoke up before the discussion could devolve.

"I think.... I would be best for that."

The team stared.

"Batsy?"

Having no lungs meant he could not drag in the tired sigh he wished, but whatever force allowed this body to talk was capable of approximating something suitably resigned.

"As I am, I am... incapable of fully passing as human. It would be best if I remained out of sight."

"So just? Go change? I swear we won't be weird about whoever you are under the mask. Even if you're like, bald."

"Thank you, Wally, but I'm afraid I'm being serious." Reaching for the mask in broad daylight was unpleasant, but the glue and wires held as he gave it a few thorough tugs. "It doesn't detach."

Everyone stared. Clark reached out as if he wanted to check, but withdrew.

"Do you even have a civilian identity??" Oliver eventually asked. "Because at this point I'm genuinely not sure."

Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries had a meeting that same evening. "Hn."

"Can we go back to the 'incapable of passing as human' part?!"

"We can discuss it in the car," he snapped, stalking past Barry and popping the boot. "In case you haven't forgotten, we're on a time limit."

For once, that seemed to encourage them, and batman, with great dignity, folded his joints and cape into the small space, ignoring Hal's mutter of 'what kind of contortionist -' as he slammed the lid. With a little shuffling he managed to activate his comms.

"I will inform the watchtower of our delay."

"Batman, they're tapping all outgoing signals, you can't -"

"It won't trigger," he interrupted, before he twisted his consciousness and sent it spiralling across the country.

Bruce awoke with a groan, stretching his limbs and taking a moment to marinate in his annoyance before he reached for the comm and voice modulator on the beside table.

"Batman to watchtower, we've encountered delays. If the Texan state government calls we haven't entered the state in six weeks. Batman out."

-

"Alien?"

"No."

"Reanimated corpse?"

"No."

"Uh... Demon?"

"Hm. No."

"You're not just a meta human, are you?"

"No."

"Vampire?"

"No."

"Robot??"

"No."

"Batsy, please, someone's got to win the bet eventually. How do we even know you're not lying?!"

"You don't," Batman said, not looking up from his paperwork and Flash groaned, letting his sticky notes fall to the floor as he buried his head in his arms.

"One day," he bemoaned to the keyboard, "one day we'll figure it out."

"Until then please keep your eyes on the monitors."

Flash groaned again.

-

Robin ducked under superman's arm as he scuttled down the corridor, laden with the night's haul of snacks. The real problem wasn't getting them - stopping league members from raiding the kitchen would be extremely counterproductive - but keeping them until he could return home to his human body to eat them. Batman had started searching him each time they left and it was really cutting into his daily sugar intake. Unfair! Just because he didn't actually use energy to stay up my night to fight crime, it felt like he did!!

'Oh, you're broken, Robin, oh, don't go out until the glue has fully set, Robin' his arm was fine! It wasn't like there was much crime to be fought on the watchtower anyway! At least not physically.

So he was pretty pleased with himself until he went to set the snacks down and found that the tar like glue they used had soaked through the sleeve and gotten all over his chocolates.

With his other hand, he tried to pry them off, wincing as the wrappers tore and stuck. He tried to shake it, ignoring the way his elbow rattled in the joint.

"Come on, come on - aw, cheezits."

The arm fell off. Robin stared despondently at the limb, surrounded by torn wrappers and dripping black glue where it connected to the elbow. The sour stink of formaldehyde filled the air.

He was going to be in such trouble with Bruce.

The click of the door jerked his head up.

Flash stood in the doorway, wide eyed. Robin stared back.

Flash screamed.

Oh yeah @dehydratedmockingbird have a thing

[rreskk]

Creepy Trevor is lowkey one of my personal favourite qualities about him. Maybe it’s because I have an oddly specific taste in men (morally insane and socially unacceptable blokes with balding heads and crazy eyes), but I can’t help adore him.

I’m serious though. If Trevor ever gave me them creepy ass eyes and his sinister grin while saying something like “I love you” even tho we just met? Head over heals.

If he ain’t calling me mummy, I can at least make him worse and he’ll love me for it… that’s my jam. SORRY NOT SORRY!!!

[fnvmademysoul]

ondolemar headcanons bc again WE ARE LACKING

please bear with me i am a; autistic and b; obsessed with grumpy bald men. Some NSFW and Romance headcanons but nothing too explicit.

Not exactly middle aged, but not some sweet young thing either. If we're going off the idea that a 200 year old Altmer is elderly, then Ondolemar would probably be in the 75-85 year old range; the human equivalent of about 34-38. Not afraid of growing older, as in his eyes, age and wisdom is something to be respected and desired rather than feared and lamented.

Most definitely a little inbred. His bloodline is long, respected, and as pure as it gets (mostly thanks to getting a couple cousins together every now and then).

I saw something on a tes forum discussing how the Thalmor most likely occupied the majority of the Noble upper echelon in the Summerset Isles. This would be the case for Ondolemar, his father being a high-ranking Thalmor officer, and the same as his father before him.

Being the blueprint of racial purity and male attractiveness in Altmer society, Ondolemar is likely very popular with the ladies. Most definitely has a girl somewhere in every port across the Empire. However...

There has been significant pressure from his family to marry and produce an heir to carry on his family's name (especially going off the canon idea that Altmer only produce 1-2 children per couple). However, it is also an idea that Ondolemar has been putting off. He finds himself quickly bored and annoyed by any women that cross his path and desires someone that will challenge him. Frankly, he wants a woman that he can court and chase and put effort into wooing over, rather than it being the other way around.

Cares less than he actually shows about the intermixing of races across Tamriel, though is very adamant on Elven Supremacy (however, does have fascination and respect for Argonians and Khajiit). However, he will not touch a woman who is not another Altmer, unlike some of his other Thalmor colleagues such as Ancano who has most definitely had a cheeky roll in the hay with an Imperial or Dunmer woman.

A great enjoyer of sex, and is quite good at it too. Most likely going a little nuts in Markarth as the only other Altmer there are his two blokes™ as well as Calcemo and Aicantar.

Very wealthy, both generationally and through his own efforts. Doesn't flaunt his wealth, but definitely enjoys the finer things in life; expensive imported wine, high quality leather, fine art, exotic food... the list goes on. One thing he noted about Skyrim was the lack of industries supporting such exuberant wealth; in Summerset, most individuals, even the middle class, were wealthy to a degree, thus most of the industry advertised luxury and premium items. If anything, the humbleness of life in Skyrim impressed him (after he got over his initial repulsion).

I headcanon that he does own property in Skyrim; though he has an office in Understone Keep for the purpose of investigating Talos Worship in Markarth, he has been provided an abode nearby by the Embassy. He also would own private property in a more Imperial city, such as Solitude, as a means to get away when he is given some time off.

Very religious, and takes his job rather seriously, though is absolutely sick of it, and sick of Elenwen.

Skyrim had not been his first post, yet his most recent and his least desired. He had been stationed in Summerset, Elsewyr, Valenwood, and very briefly in Cyrodil Previously. Elsewyr had been his favorite; he enjoyed the culture of Khajiit as well as the tropical weather.

[captainlondonman]

Work surprise

The boss told me to go and look for Mike in the other department as I would be working alongside him for the next few weeks. He was a new guy in the company and I hadn’t yet seen him. I walked into his office and liked what I saw. He was over 6 foot stocky built, more like a scrum half, in suit, white shirt and tie. His had a number one and was clean shaven.

Come in and sit he said. His voice was at once masterful and yet kind. He seemed an easy bloke to get on with. As he stood up to shake my hand, I couldn’t help but try and see if there was a bulge in his trousers, as I could feel my own bulge getting bigger. I could see nothing due to the dark fabric but did not feel disappointed as he firmly shook my hand.

I hope we get on as there’s plenty of work to do over the next few weeks. There won’t be much time for breaks and I hope you don’t mind putting in a few extra hours. May put paid to your social life.

Sure I said, I can manage for a while.

He was right, there wasn’t much time off, but I didn’t mind as the work was interesting and he was there showing interest. A really good bloke.

 About 8 one night when I was finishing up Mike suggested we go out for a quick drink which I jumped at. It would be good to be seen with him and get to know him a bit better.

I only live round the corner, why not come back for a drink and I’ll see if there’s anything for a meal.

The flat was pleasant and everything is good order, nothing to indicate how this man lived or what he did in his spare time. As he handed me a beer he said.

So what do you do in your spare time.

Oh, the usual, pubs and clubs, out with my mates, a bit of footie at the weekend.

I had been wanting to ask him a question and thought now, in his home was the best time.

I see you have a number 1. Just wonder why, as I can see you have a really good head of hair and no bald patches.

You noticed did you. Well, this is it long, I usually have it fully shaved, especially for holidays and the weekends.

Why. I said feeling a bit stupid

I think you know, Mike said, when I’m away from the office I’m a skin.

Christ, have you got all the gear, the Rangers, bleachers, braces, Fred Perry…

You seem to know what’s what.

Well, when you see a skinhead, you can’t help but look at them. They command respect and look like real tough blokes.

Too right. When I get home I usually like to get into my skin gear, makes me feel completely different from the nice bloke at work. I feel dominant, rough, and tough and thirsty for real action.

I ain’t surprised, from what I’ve seen of skins.

Why don’t you have another beer, Mike said, I need to go for a crap. Back in a minute.

He went up the hall and I heard the door close. Good God, Mike a skin. I couldn’t believe it. He seemed such a decent bloke at work. I sat there thinking of him in his skin gear and just couldn’t get the picture but just thinking made my cock start to stir. The more I thought the more my cock got erect till it was rigid. It was feeling tight in my underpants, so I leant back in the chair to adjust it and it sprang out in my trousers making a large bulge. It was a good cock and many a mouth had gagged on it. By this time I was feeling really randy and still lying back started to massage my dick in my trousers.

Playing with that fucking dick of yours, I heard a voice suddenly bark out behind me.

I spun round to see a skin in full gear standing in the doorway.

I could scarcely believe that it was Mike. His head was fully shaved and gleaming making him look mean and aggressive. He was wearing 21 hole Ranger boots with red laces, a red Fred Perry tee shirt, black braces, a black mac1 jacket and skin tight bleachers set high into his crotch. He was hung like a bloody donkey. I couldn’t take my eyes of the long bulge tight down his leg and could see his large cut head even in his denim. One arm was stretched up the door frame and I could see a rolled up white sock clenched in his fist. The other hand was on his hip and as I stared at his crotch so his hand moved between his groin to grab his balls and then move down his long shaft. He had to be erect it was so bloody big.

What are you fucking looking at, Mike hissed. He had changed character and was now a real aggro skin. You said skins commanded respect so its time you gave some. Having a good look at my crotch are you. Well its all my fucking dick, thick and fucking big.

He came over and grabbed me by shirt, pulling me sharply and throwing me against the wall, my head bouncing off it. He was right up in front of my pressing his body against me staring into my face.

Smell this, a real cheesy skin sock, ramming it into my face. As I opened my mouth he thrust the sock in gagging me. I choked but the smell was great. It was really cheesy and I knew Mike had obviously had it on for days. As he pushed up my chin to make me clench the sock. His knee came sharply up into my crotch. It was fucking sore. Mike just smiled.

His knee came up again and started rubbing against my crotch.

You fucking love this, don’t you. That cock of yours is nice and fucking hard. Not a bad piece of meat. You love being done over by a skin. Yeah, respect you said.

He took the sock out, and I gasped for air.

Get down on your knees boy, now, he shouted.

As I sank down with his strong hand forcing me, I was level with the crotch.

You fucking like what you see, Mike said as his hand rubbed his massive dick through the denim. Time you saw what it looks like.

He ripped open the flies and putting his hand way down his bleachers, pulled out his erect dick. It was at least 9 inches and bloody thick with a gleaming head.

I ain’t had a piss for ages and I feel like it now and that mouth of yours is going to be the bog. Got it?

He took his cock in his hand sliding it up and down the shaft a few times, then moved forward and slapped it against my face.

You fucking like that, dirty boy.

Then standing back he grabbed my head forcing it back.

Open that mouth of yours, I can feel my piss coming, fucking gallons of it and your’e gonna swallow the lot. I said open that mouth piss boy.

I did as I was told and Mike aimed his cock straight at my mouth.

It’s coming boy, its coming.

And with that the pee starting slowly arching into my open mouth. It bloody well stung as it hit the back of my throat with force and I gagged.

Fucking swallow boy.

I couldn’t hold back I had to start swallowing. The pressure of his piss was getting stronger as I started. It stung at first but just seeing that massive cock piss so hard, I wanted to take it all. I gulped and gulped but not quick enough to take the full stream and could feel the piss running down my shirt, soaking the front and down into my trousers. There seemed piss everywhere, down my throat down my shirt, down my trousers until I could feel my underpants wet.

Fucking drink it piss boy he shouted.

I clutched my cock through the wet trousers rubbing the shaft. The piss was so good and seeing it spraying out of his dick was a turn on, making me so fucking randy.

As the piss stream came to a stop Mike moved forward.

Now you can lick the remaining piss and get my dick down that throat of yours. I want to feel my prick right down the back of your throat so you are gagging with my big cock.

I licked the head tasting the final drops of piss, but he grabbed the back of my head and shoved it right down the length of his cock. I gagged, but feeling his huge piece of meat down my throat was so fucking good.

That’s right let me face fuck you. Take the whole bloody lot, you love dick, that mouth of yours has had a few. Go one suck me, fucking suck me.

He continued grabbing my head and moving it up and down the shaft,his cock going further and further down my throat. His dick was fucking great.

You’re a great sucker, boy. You really love my prick. Christ, I’m gonna cum in a minute, go on suck hard.

I couldn’t wait any longer. While sucking his cock, I unzipped my trousers and took out my rock hard dick, wet with Mike’s piss and started to wank. The harder I wanked the harder I sucked.

Shit I’m coming, boy, suck that dick, I’m coming, get it down your throat so you can feel my spunk. Yeah, now, shit man.

With that he erupted his load of cum down my throat, he couldn’t stop It went down my throat and out through my mouth running down my chin. It was fucking great. My own cock was ready to cum and while I licked and licked so I came, cum spurting out over the floor.

Lick that spunk boy. Mike’s hand, pushed the spunk on my chin and up into my mouth, poking two finger down the back of my throat. Go on lick my fingers take all my spunk. I licked the fingers dry.

Well that’s made a mess of you. All your office gear covered in my piss eh. Better get out of it and into something else. I haven’t finished yet.

He yanked my shirt off, pulled me up and slid my trousers down. I was standing naked in front of him.

Not a bad body you’ve got there, good sized fat dick too. It would look a hell of a lot better in some other gear. I’ve set it out in the bedroom, so go and put it on and get back here quick then I’ll finish your clothing off with something else I’ve got.

I walked in his bedroom and lying neatly on the bed was full skin gear. It was what I’d always wanted. I’d seen all these skins and always wanted to look like one but never had the courage. Now Mike was letting me be what I really wanted. I put on the black Fred Perry, it was a perfect fit really tight to my chest, then the long white socks, then the bleachers. As I put them on I saw there was a good size hole in the seam at the arse. Fucking great I thought. Red braces and then 21 hole brown DMs. It was as if they were made for me. The bleachers were tight and I could feel with the braces, the seam tight in the crotch under my balls. My balls and stiffening cock were forced down the leg, making a large packet. Not as big as Mike’s but you could see very inch clearly pushing out from the tight denim. Shit this felt bloody fantastic even with short hair and no skinhead.

Get through here, Mike shouted, I told you we hadn’t finished.

I walked through.

That’s fucking better. Christ you also think so judging by that cock of yours. But you ain’t a true skin with that hair of yours. No, I ain’t shaving it off but you’ll wear this. He took out a full leather hood.

Bend your head down, I don’t want to see a bloke in skin gear with hair so get this on. He opened the laces at the back and brought the hood over my face. It had eyelets, and opening for the mouth. I could smell the strong odour of leather up my nostrils as he tightened the laces at the back.

I’m gonna make this nice and tight so its part of your skin and you can breathe the leather.

Right head up, that’s better you look like a skin with a hood, and look fucking good. Stand up straight and spread your legs apart.

As did as commanded Mike put on a tight pair of black rubber gloves.

You’ll fucking love this boy.

He stood in front of me and with one rubbered glove hand grabbed my shoulders and with the other he moved round my back to my arse. Suddenly I felt the rubber against my warm flesh, the hole in the jeans. His finger found my hole and I felt a finger pushing its way moving around inside, the rubber was good.

You like that don’t you boy. That’s right stick that nice arse of yours out and turn round. Bend down but keep those legs apart. I suddenly winced as a second finger went in pushing up high and making my cock spring to action. Christ I loved it. Then the third finger pushing back my crack making it larger. Smell that, I took in a deep inhale and felt the smell of poppers mixed with leather right up my nose. My arse relaxed, I wanted more.

Get another finger up there please.

Don’t worry you’ll get the whole fucking fist. That arse of yours I want opened right up so you can take my cock. You see it’s big and I want you to feel it going the whole fucking way up.  

I felt the 4th finger go and my arse opening expanding. The finger moved around inside my arse the rubber against my skin felt great. My cock was straining inside my denims, my balls wanted to explode as I kept thrusting my arse out into his fist. Mike’s other hand came round my waist and felt my bulging pouch, giving it a good rub.

You fucking love this, my rubber fingers up your arse and that hood on breathing in the leather. That cock of yours is fucking hard. You love this hand inside these bleachers, up your arse and still is full skin kit.

He wasn’t joking, it was fucking great.

He started to take his fingers out one by one leaving my arse feeling empty and then he stuck the rubbered hand at my nostrils, smearing it across the hood.

Like the smell of your arse boy, go on breathe it in. Bet you like that mix of arse and leather. Its time you had my cock up that arse. I want you to see me fucking you in your kit. See two skins locked together me with that big dick right up your arse.

He shoved me to the bedroom in front of a full height mirror.

Face that boy, see yourself in skin kit with that leather hood on. Christ you look like a good fucking skin boy. That cock of yours is rock hard. Look at the fucking bulge its making in your bleachers.

He stood behind me and I could sense him taking out his dick. He spit into his hands and started rubbing it over his prick.

You don’t need gel now, boy, a bit of spit is all as that arse of yours is wide open and ready.

He squeezed my bum then with one hand sharply pushed my head bending me over. His hand came down hard on my arse, not once or twice but several times each time giving a searing pain then he would squeeze the cheeks.

That’ll warm you up boy.

Again he spat gob onto his cock and rubbed it in.

Right boy arch that arse out, I’m ready, and with that I could feel his cock at the ripped hole in my bleachers, seeking out my arsehole. He found the crack quickly.

With all his hand work on my arse, the hole was ready. I moved my arse back and felt his massive dick sliding up. It was ripping my hole with its width but my arse wanted it and I edged back so it slid right up to the hilt. It felt great. I looked in the mirror and could see my skin clad body pinned to Mike, him standing behind me tight against my body looking totally in control, his helmet of a head against my leather hood, our booted legs together. He started to move back and I could feel his dick sliding back out almost to the tip then he rammed it back with full force. Shit, I loved it. His hands came round my chest and while pulling me even closer to him, he started to work on my tits, not massaging but nipping and pulling. It hurt but the more he pulled at my tits the bigger the nipples swelled and the more I wanted. I started moving my arse up and down his shaft taking in the full length. I wanted to be fucked and fucked while he worked my tits. Two skins together, one being fucked senseless by the other and being fucked in full gear.

You fucking love sliding up and down on my fat dick don’t you skin boy. That’s right take the whole fucking dick up that arse of yours. You love being fucked rigid don’t you. My prick right up in your skin gear through that hole in your bleachers. Go on look at us me with my huge cock thrusting it up that arse of yours, my hands working on those tits, your hooded head thrust back is pain and loving every fucking second. Take this cock skin boy, fucking ride it.

I felt it right up to the top almost splitting me but I wanted more forcing my arse tight back against his cock, my hands round his hips pushing him further and further into me.

Fuck me you skin, let me have that fucking big cock of yours, yeah fuck me hard skin man. Squeeze my tits harder, let me feel the pain while you ride me. I wanna be a fucking skin. Give to me.

I could see myself in the mirror, Mike’s hands on my tits, me thrusting up and down his shaft, my cock fucking stiff and bulging against my bleachers, it looked huge and there was a precum stain filling out on the denim. My balls were aching with the cum wanting to get out.

Fuck me you skin, fuck me hard, I yelled, I’m ready to cum you filthy skin, ram your dick home and spurt your cum right up my arse.

That’s right boy, talk like a skin, take this and this, my cock up you, skin boy, I’m ready you fucking skin, you gonna get all my spunk up now. Yeah, yeah,

And with that he exploded his cum up my arse, the arms round my waist forcing me even closer to him pummelling my arse with his dick. I could feel his spunk surging up my arse warm and wet. Christ it was fucking fantastic. As he gave a final thrust, I felt my cock erupt in my bleachers, my spunk running down the inside leg. It felt like gallons pouring inside the denim and I could see the cum stain getting bigger and bigger spreading out down and across, down to the top of my DMs, spunk seeping through the denim, my cock pulsating with cum, the huge bulge down my leg now fully covered in spunk.

 The next day when I went into work I reported to Mike.

Had a good night, he asked

Yeah great, I replied.

Well I’ve spoken to the boss and asked that you work for me full time now and the first thing you can do is get out at lunchtime and get your hair cropped to at least a number 1. Better for after work.

[biomecharnotaurus]

If I feel very silly enough (self destructive) one day you will get the updated uniform with the right amount of medals, maybe different designs even. For now no. Get the half assed awkward bald bloke with only 3 glorified bottle caps.

[polikszena]

As I said it before, I'm totally fine with Rebecca and the Dutch Boat Bloke being just a one-time thing, but still, I'd love to see some more stuff about them, so here is their reunion:

Better late than never

Despite weeks had passed since A.F.C. Richmond's trip to Amsterdam, Rebecca Welton's lips still curled up as she thought of that night in that house boat in the Dutch capital. However, as time went on, she found it harder and harder to recall the features of the gorgeous stranger: his face, his smile, his voice. What she could still remember was the way her made her feel: warm, cozy, safe. Gezellig.

The whole thing could have gone really wrong as she ended up in the house of a complete stranger, in a foreign country, with her phone in the Canal and without anyone knowing her whereabouts. But luckily, it turned to be one of the best nights of her life. It was perfect in its own way, but sometimes she found herself wondering who this man exactly was, even though she learned more about him at that one night than about others whom she knew for years. What she didn't know was his name and he didn't know hers either - at that moment, it didn't seem important. Still, sometimes she regretted not asking it, especially when she noticed that she began forgetting what he looked like. If he just walked into the pub, she wouldn't even recognise him.

Right at the moment she thought about that, she spotted him. For a moment she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, but taking a closer look, she knew it was really him, eating fish and chips at one of the tables. Although she couldn't have described his features in details, seeing the bald man with blue eyes and a short beard, wearing a navy blue Ralph Lauren T-shirt, she was sure it was him.

"Fuck me," she mumbled, shaking her head a little, with her eyes glued to the gorgeous stranger.

Feeling her gaze on himself, the bald man looked up from his lunch and the sight made him drop the fork onto the table.

"Is this real, or is it just happening in my head?" he wondering, and his astonished expression truned into a grin in disbelief.

"I was asking myself the same question," Rebecca said as she stepped closer to his table. "What are you doing here?"

“I’m visiting a friend,” he replied, still looking at her in awe. After all, this was the first time he saw her in full armor: a pink sleeveless blouse, a gray pencil skirt and a pair of black stilettos. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she told him. She had just had lunch with her mother who (luckily) had left already.

“That's quite a coincidence. Do you want to sit down?” he wondered, gesturing towards the chair opposite his.

“And where’s your friend?” she asked once she was seated. 

“In the office,” he said. “Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a take-your-friend-to-work day, so he left me alone.”

“What is your plan, then?”

“Is there any take-your-one-night-stand-to-work day here?” he asked with a small grin.

“Why, is there such thing in The Netherlands?” Rebecca asked in a teasing tone.

“No, it hasn’t been introduced yet. Thank God,” he added with a chuckle.

“No, we don’t have it either,” Rebecca said. “But if you like, I can give you a few suggestions of some local sights.”

Her gaze met his blue eyes and they both smiled.

“I’d love that,” he said. “And you know, my friend plays in a small, indie rock band in a nearby bar tonight. Would you like to join me at the concert?”

“Sure, why not?” she said, even though the last time she had listened to any indie music was when Ted brought that guitarist guy from the street to the club’s charity gala. But she had a good feeling about this. Gezellig, she thought to herself as she glanced at the Dutchman in front of her.

Once he told her which bar it was, he took his wallet out of his pocket, fished out a piece of paper, then he wrote down his phone number and handed it to her.

“You can call me in case anything happens,” he said.

Their fingers briefly touched as she took the note from him, making her smile grow wider. She typed his number into her phone and tapped the call button.

“And this is mine, in case anything happens,” she said.

***

Later that afternoon, when she was back in her office, Rebecca’s phone started ringing and on the screen she could see a Dutch number.

“I’ve just realised that I still don’t know your name,” she heard the familiar deep voice and she couldn’t stop smiling.

“You haven’t asked,” she said.

“You haven’t asked mine either,” he pointed out.

“There were more important things to talk about.”

“Anyway, it’s Erik,” he told her, and she could tell he was smiling.

“And I’m Rebecca,” she said.

***

P.S.: Giving him this name is my headcanon only, and I named him after the soldier Matteo van der Grijn played in the musical Soldaat van Oranje because the little aeroplanes might have been a reference to that (thanks to @dr-doomsduck for pointing that out!).

[rhinozilla]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

(I'm not sorry lmao)

NOW YOU LISTEN HERE. I do not even have the ambition to count these flowers, let alone count out the sentences on this WIP to match. So I'm just gonna post the entire WIP, you monster XD

--

The night was young, and Hob was not. Not in years at least. Most days his body was perfectly happy to still be the spry young man that he’d been when he received the gift of immortality. Then there were evenings like this…He had just finished grading his students’ final projects for the semester, and the crash had hit him rapidly.

He hadn’t INTENDED to fall asleep watching some Netflix show about ancient earthquakes on the couch with a bowl of popcorn at 7pm in the middle of the week…but here they were.

So when his phone—having slipped from the arm rest of the couch to be wedged between his shoulder and the cushion—began to vibrate with an incoming call, he came awake thinking that an earthquake was happening right below his very head.

With a jolt, Hob startled and swatted at the cushion, inadvertently smacking the phone to the floor. It hit with a clatter, and he winced at the sound, rolling onto his side and reaching for the phone on the floor.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he did so.

He slumped back into the couch with the phone in hand as the caller ID came up as a colleague from the literature department of the university. He frowned and checked the time. It was half past eight at night. Too late for a routine call. He sat up on the couch and answered the phone.

“Hello, Stephen?”

“Robbie, hey, so sorry for the oddly late call.” He sounded shaky.

Stephen always got a little twitchy this close to the end of the semester, but this wasn’t twitchy. He sounded genuinely unnerved. Something had happened.

“What’s wrong?” Hob asked, deciding to cut to the quick of it and try to avoid Stephen’s usual rambling around the main subject.

“Um…Christ, where to start—”

“At the beginning usually works best,” Hob said, standing up and already moving to put his shoes on. “Where are you? You need help?”

“Um…N-no, not me…I’m at the lecture hall now and…The medics have already arrived—”

“Medics?” Hob grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet, doing a cursory glance around the flat before opening his front door. “On campus? Who’re the medics for, Stephen?”

“That…That Ric Madoc bloke…He just…Christ, you’ve got to see it to believe it.”

“I’m on my way now, mate. Be there in a jiffy.”

A jiffy turned out to be a cool ten minutes, plus another three when Stephen accidentally told him the wrong lecture hall. Not that it really mattered at that point; Hob could just follow the nervous crowd and staff trying to disperse them.

He spotted Stephen, the head of the literature program at the school, talking to a police officer and a campus security officer. Stephen was a squat man in his fifties, bald on top and thinning the rest of the way around, looking every bit the dusty old librarian in his knitted sweater vest and pressed pants.

Hob hung back, making eye contact with Stephen so he’d know he was there, and then he left his colleague to wrap up…whatever statement he was giving to the officers. Instead, Hob meandered around the dissipating crowd, catching snippets of students’ and staff conversations but actively trying not to engage them as he got close enough to peer into the open doors of the cleared out lecture hall where whatever had happened…had happened.

“…had this crazy look in his eyes…”

“…just one after another after another, like some kind of psychotic episode…”

“…looked like drugs to me. Just a really bad trip. You know how those famous writers party…”

“…heard they found him in the stairwell babbling nonsense…”

“Robbie!” Stephen was hustling toward him soon enough, and Hob turned to look at him, spreading his hands in confusion.

“Bloody Hell, Stephen, what happened?”

Stephen wiped a handkerchief across his sweaty face, huffing a bit, and he gestured for Hob to follow him…away from listening ears.

“He was answering student questions,” Stephen explained once they were safely down the hall. “No odd behavior or strangeness at all for the entire lecture…and then he just…started talking absolute nonsense. All manner of…of half-formed ideas for stories.”

Hob frowned, perplexed as to why that was garnering such a response from everyone present. “Inspiration strikes at weird times, Stephen, you know that.”

Stephen eyed him, shaking his head. “No, this wasn’t that. It was like he was hallucinating it or…sputtering out the words like some kind of compulsion that he couldn’t stop. I was sitting in; I saw the whole thing. He was lucid as you and me, but he was scared by what was happening to him. I’ve never seen such a thing. Made what hair I have left stand on end!”

Hob held out a hand. “All right, all right, but that still doesn’t explain all the police and students—He’s gone to hospital by now, surely? So what’s everyone still doing hanging about?”

Stephen drew a deep, measured breath. “Rumors are already spreading. This way.”

He shuffled farther down the hall, and Hob followed him toward the stairwell.

“Two students found him in here,” Stephen explained, popping open the stairwell door.

Another police officer was standing on the landing inside, taking pictures of the walls.

“Said he was just collapsed on the stairs,” Stephen went on.

Hob followed him, still not sure why he was being shown this…as if it was some kind of…crime…scene. His thoughts trailed off as he looked up. The formerly plain painted walls were marred with words…written in the unhinged font of someone desperate to put ink to their thoughts. But the ink was red…and the ink wasn’t ink.

“Fucking Hell,” Hob breathed, stepping past Stephen and stare at the horrors scribed onto the walls.

“It’s blood,” Stephen said. “His own blood. Poor sod tore open his fingers and did all this…If I believed in it, I’d say he was possessed by something.”

“You said two students found him?” Hob asked, eyes tracing the jagged words without really reading them. “Did he say anything to them?”

Stephen sighed. “He…One of the last things he said that sounded coherent was…The student said he told her that he had someone locked in his apartment. To go let them out and tell them it was over or…something like that. Absolute nonsense.”

Hob continued to frown, staring at the scribblings on the wall.

He’d tried his hand at writing a handful of decades ago. It always ended up degenerating more into journaling, no matter how fantastical or otherworldly he tried to make the stories. He’d already filled enough journals to pack a small library. Written word was still one of mankind’s greatest achievements, and he’d fight anyone on that point.

Still, the way Dream’s face had lit up when he saw the shelves and shelves of journals in Hob’s flat…He hadn’t seemed to mind Hob’s disorganized, rambling writing technique.

He wondered what the old Prince of Stories would think about this madness.

[kylewalker-peters]

wait i've been wondering who the bald bloke is all extra time you're telling me it's ERIKSEN?

[blubushie]

About Wolf Creek 2. You reckon Mick had a wig on standby to go along with that dress? Either that or he's scalped some girls to save their hair for such an occasion. Not to be gruesome but it seems plausible to me. Needed to share it with someone, hey. ┌|*ﾟ-ﾟ|┘

HAHAHAHAHAHA I GENUINELY NEVER CONSIDERED THAT.

Reckon the scalping is more likely because it is Mick Taylor we're talking about, and while Mick is keen to keep souvenirs, for some reason a wig strikes me as something he wouldn't keep—like some kinda disappointment. Imagine grabbing a chick by the hair and it just slips off! And he was so close to catching her! This goes especially if he's picking targets for their physical features. He's been lied to!

He probably sniffs girls' hair. I can defo picture him keeping the scalp of a girl he particularly enjoyed. Probably prefers blondes and rangas for this... The image of him delicately brushing a dead chick's hair and plaiting it in preparation of scalping her is funny to me.

Though I do reckon he'd keep a bloke's toupee purely because he finds it funny (and probably tease the bloke about his male pattern baldness cuz Mick Taylor has a full head of hair in his 60s).

[seriouslysam8]

Bête Noire Sneak Peek!

Chapter One: The Bête Noire and the Letter

“Oi, there you are,” a familiar voice called behind him.

Sirius shoved the letter into his pocket as quickly as possible before his fingers carded through his hair. Turning to his right, James appeared at his side in his Macintosh coat and Gryffindor striped scarf. He didn’t look cold, and Sirius had no doubt that he was smart enough to cast a Warming Charm. 

“Hey,” Sirius greeted.

“Happy birthday,” James said as he gestured his hand. “Budge over.”

The rock wasn’t that big so Sirius had no idea how he was supposed to even share it with his mate. Without a word, he scooted over until half of his bum hung off the edge. It was uncomfortable and plain stupid, but James didn’t seem bothered as he sat close to him. Pulling a black box out of his coat pocket, neatly wrapped in a gold ribbon, James held it out to Sirius. 

Taking the gift, Sirius unwrapped it carefully. “Thanks, mate.”

When he lifted the lid off the box, Sirius let out a bark-like laugh as he saw five crossword books and a set of quills with a rainbow of ink colors.

“I know how restless you get when I’m at Quidditch practice and Remus is off doing prefect things,” James commented. “I also know there is only so long you can put up with Peter before you’re chewing his head off.”

Sirius snorted. “He asks the stupidest questions.”

James elbowed him in the side. “Try to be a bit more patient with him, yeah? He’s a good bloke. I mean, he figured out Mrs. Norris’ weakness with that Pointer Spell. Merlin, that’s been dead useful because I swear that blasted cat can see through Invisibility Cloaks.”

Sirius shrugged as he pulled out one of the books and flipped through it. “I am patient with him.”

Sirius knew that was a bald-faced lie, but he figured it was best to at least deny that Peter frustrated him more often than not. James and Remus were far more patient and tolerant than he was.

James laughed. “You can’t lie to me, Sirius. You’ve always been snippy towards him for as long as I can remember.”

Sighing, Sirius tossed the book back into the box and closed it. It was clearly a lack of patience on Sirius’ part. He knew that. Peter could be quite dense, asking a billion questions, always so fucking eager. They were all personality traits that Sirius couldn’t fucking stand while James and Remus found them endearing for reasons Sirius just didn’t comprehend.

“He doesn’t think half the time,” Sirius explained. “I mean, if he just took an extra minute or two and actually thought before he spoke, he’d annoy me a lot less.”

James chuckled, clapping Sirius on the back. “Ahh, there’s the Sirius Black I know and love: critical and grumpy.” 

Sirius didn’t say anything, instead he looked out on the calm dark water. His mind flickered back to the damn letter in his pocket once more. He couldn’t help but overanalyze the words. Make the necessary corrections. What the bloody hell did that even mean? Hadn’t his mother attempted to correct his behavior in the past and failed? She had certainly hexed and cursed him, locked him up and starved him, berated and shouted at him. There wasn’t much more she could do, surely, besides fucking torture him. Even he didn’t think it would go as far as that.

“You all right, mate?” James pressed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sirius replied, his voice monotone and automatic.

“What? Did Kreacher send you maggots again?” James asked, his voice far too casual as he prodded.

Sirius snorted, remembering how he had showed James the box full of maggots Kreacher sent him for his last birthday. They had snuck into the Slytherin Common Room in the dead of night and poured the maggots all over the sofas and chairs. 

“Nah, no maggots. Just a letter,” Sirius replied, hoping to squash James’ curiosity, as he rose from the rock and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His fingers brushed against the letter.

James didn’t relent though. “What did the letter say?” 

Sirius looked up at the sky, noting the red hue. The last thing he felt like talking about was his mother’s foreboding letter and his paranoia about going home for the holidays. He had a good month and a half to stew over what would happen to him once he stepped foot into Grimmauld Place. Maybe that’s what she wanted, to make him a nervous mess. He was absolutely sick of the chokehold she had on him. There was nothing he wanted more than to be free of her and her abusive clenches. 

“The same as always,” Sirius replied, his voice flat and leaving no room for discussion. 

James nodded, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked up at Sirius. “Want to grab breakfast and then skive off Divination?”

[raytorosaurus]

different anon and i was on a train not a tram to get home but there was a dude who could match that description so perfectly on my train. collingwood dudes are just like that

LMAOOOOO i see so i was just getting the true blue melbourne experience. i also got that in sydney, when i was jostled in the crowd by a group of Sydney Blokes (rowdy dudes with mullets or bald with caps, congregated in a group of five or six though most of them had never met before) who heckled jimmy eat world for their whole set and then started loudly and misogynisticly mocking mcr fans for being "annoying snowflakes" who "couldn't take a pit" as they shoved thru the crowd to get closer to the stage. and then a few songs later one of them shoved back past us trying to get out of the crowd, half-carrying his mate, shell-shocked expressions on their faces HAHAHAHA

[captainlondonman]

HI VIS BIN MAN

BIN MAN

THE SECOND HAND SHOP

 What was going on in his mind? James was a sensible final year student working hard and in line for a 1St. After that the world should be his oyster. He had been dating the same girl for a year at college and she was pretty and bright so all in all life was good, in fact great.

 But ever since the work on the building site had started next door to his block of flats he could not understand what was going on his mind,.What games were being played. There was quite a group of guys, all the young one with tattoos up at least one arm, middle aged bald or close cropped hair guys with a beer belly and invariably showing the crack in their arse. But they were all in HI Viz gear usually orange. They all wore the trousers with thick steel capped rigger boots some only had a waistcoat on showing their chests and bellies. Others wore T shits with the orange and silver strips and some thick jackets. Certainly he could understand looking at the young guys being a bit jealous of their physique with 6 pack chests and biceps. No wonder they all showed off. But he found he was also interested in the older guys who looked thuggish and dominant types who would take no nonsense.

 James hoped that they did not notice him staring at them as he walked by the site or the fact that his dick was making a clear outline in his chinos since he could not help himself getting hard.by or at times when he secretly watched them from his window. He became more and more fascinated and as time went by the guys never seemed to wash their kit as it became dirtier and dirtier with oil stains and muck. He liked that. His thoughts on them all got worse as at night in bed he started thinking of them all and his cock was immediately rock hard. At first he let is subside but soon the sexual side took over and he was wanking, rubbing his hand up and down his dick and then faster and faster until he would shoot a huge load thinking of these guys. He never thought of his girlfriend in these dreams and in fact realized that over the past few weeks he had been making excuses not to see her. And why? The workies were starting to take over his mind

 It became worse as he then started noticing the bin men who were all also in Hi viz gear. Generally they were younger blokes who looked as if there was little between their ears and they just aimlessly picked up the bins usually with a fag in their mouths, and filled the bin lorry. They may have been thickos but they laughed a lot, swore a lot and to James looked fucking horny most of the times.

Christ now it’s the bin men taking me over, it was bad enough with the workies but now this. Christ what is happening. I have such a life ahead and yet I man being taken over by these fantasises.  James was wanking every night dreaming that he might be thick a bin man or workie.

 He then decided that he needed to get some hi Viz gear for himself. He could hide it in the flat and then dress up in it. Shit just the thought make his cock erect. Standing in front of his full leanth mirror would be perfect watching himself looking like a bin man and jacking off. But the more he thought about the gear the more he wanted used kit. Then he could fantasize of the guys who had been wearing them, getting dirty and sweaty with piss marks inside and who knows they may even have come and got spunk stains. Much better if you are going to go for it you get the used stuff. God the very thought made him wank.

 So he started checking out the websites and there was the ocaasional item on ebay but all the other stockists were new. He looked on fetish sites but nothing. Then one night after trolling a couple of hours a place popped up south of the river saying they had the full range of new and also some used gear for the specialist. What did that mean?

 James was so keen to check the place out he skipped class and headed over to the shop. From the outside it looked like a standard Hi Viz shop. Gingerly he went is and there were a couple of alleyways with all kind of the gear but all new. The guy behind the counter was middle aged, beefy, shaved head and beard with hairy arms and all he was wearing was a hi Viz bib and trousers, His chest hair seemed to sprout all around the bib.

 Hey mate can I help you

 ‘Just looking’ James replied meekishly

 Got everything you might want here mate

I think you may want something from our specialist range. Am I right?

That’s just by  looking at you and the way you are dressed.

 Yes that would be great but I don’t see anything on your shelves.

 No, these are for the normal lads and the building contractors

Go in through the side door there and I’ll see you.

 There was a buzz and the lock opened. James went in.

 So you’re looking for some good used gear, is that right.

 Er yes please.

 Thought so, as soon as you walked in. Some good dirty and sweaty items I would think. If so I can help you out.

Ever thought of being a binman?

 No, I’m in my final year and expected to get a 1st.

 Well there ain’t any bin man who has that mate. They are all thick as shit but you look as if you’d be good as a bin man. Bet you think that at times when you wank.

 James stood in horror but the man had him to a T

 Well I’m not sure about that

 I am. You need to chill and think what its like to be thick and just go from day to day with the boys, a few fags and pints. You’d love it trust me. I often get jobs for guys with contractors or councils. Anyway lets see what happens and what you find. Go through this next door and take your time to get all you want. One condition. No wanking until you have paid for the gear. I’ll leave you to it. So in you go.

 And with that he opened the second door and James went in.

 It was like a portacabin but with no windows and bright fluorescent lights. The first thing that hit James was the smell. It was a strong mix of cigarette smoke and sweat. It was almost overpowering and at first James thought he would retch but the more he breathed the more it became easier to the point that he was voluntary inhaling the smell and liking it to the point that his cock started twitching. All around the room  was a bench and above on varying pegs were all kinds of Hi Viz gear all with tags that showed the size On the floor were rigger boots of different sizes and inside were white socks but they were clearly also second hand as they looked dirty and yellow. It was overwhelming for James and it was his fantasy come true. As he started checking out the gear he stroked them all and with each stroke so his cock hardened even more till was desperate to get it out of his chinos. Thre were several 32” waist trousers some in yellow but he wanted orange. Some were more stained than others and he found the exact pair. Full of oil stains with ingrained dirt. The fluorescent strip was almost grey they were so dirty. He looked inside the zip and sure enough this had been one dirty guy, and he had obviously been always commando. James could see all the piss marks. God this is what I want to wear. He then found a pair of rigger boots size 9 with the steel of the toe caps showing and the socks dirty and when he lifted them out he could smell the cheese.

He fancied a polo shirt with the fluorescent stripes. There were a couple his size but he knew which one to choose. He could see the armpits had had a lot of sweat and there were a couple of holes on the front from hard usage. H then soon found the Hiviz waistcoat, a must for any workie and ripped in several places. He next looked for the orange hi viz jacket. He tried on several, some were too long on the arms other in length but one was perfect and full of grease marks and he could see the guy had used the cuffs to wipe away his snot. Dirty bugger he thought but perfect. In the pockets on one side were a pair of gloves dirty and well worn and in the other a packet of cigarettes and box of matches. Not much use to me James thought as I don’t smoke but I love the fact that this bloke did smoke.

He now had the full kit. By this time he just wanted to wank but the guy in the shop had been specific. How the hell was he going to wait until he got home and try the kit on. Everyone would see his cock bursting out of his chinos so he’d have to hold the package tight to his dick.

Suddenly a voice sounded over what seemed a tannoy. It was the shop guy.

 Before you go you had better try on to make sure. That door in front of you is a changing room as well as the bog. In you go.

 James thought the guy is right, better to get it right but I can’t look in the mirror or I’ll come. He went into the WC and the smell was even stronger than the cabin but this time it was mixed with piss. What a stench. Bet this is what the workies bog is like, bloody hell its powerful but the more he tried to resist the smell the more he wanted to inhale until he started to feel slightly dizzy. Not enough to strip off his college clothes. His ock sprang up aas soon as he took off his boxers and he could see the precum on the tip.. It was as though he was in such to dress up in his full kit. Everything fitted to perfection and he could feel the sweat percolating into his skin. Christ these are real men who do real work James thought. Bloody great guys.

 As he was thinking about the workies and bin men, smoke started coming through the ceiling vent, just a trickle at first but soon it was pouring through. It was strong tobacco smoke.It started to fill the room and James thought I’ve got to get out of this but when he tried to open the door it was locked. He pushed he shoved and started coughing his guts up. He could feel the smoke take over his hair, his entire body and he kept inhaling thinking it might help but it was too much.

He fell on to the loo and passed out.

 He had no idea how long he had been out but as he opened his eyes the air was clear but his whole body smelt of smoke. I like this he thought in fact I’m desperate for a ciggie. He had his fags in his pocket and quickly lit one up, inhaling deeply, puffing as if he’d been doing it all his life.

 That feels fucking better. Shit I should be at work instead of skiving off.

Why the hell am I saying  that James thought. I think I need to get back to college but I’m not sure. Why the hell am I going to a college. I’m sitting here in my Hi viz gear and ciggie in hand . Is that not my life?

 James pushed his hand across this head. Where’s my hair.? He rubbed back and forth and all he could feel was a shaved head. Of course it’s been this like for ages what am I fucking thinking. In fact mate why do I fucking think at all.

 The door opened and in the doorway stood the shop owner.

So Joe are you ready?

 Joe? I think its James but hell what do I know.

 Exactly mate you’re only a thicko bin man, so its Joe. And while you were dossing I came in and decided as a dimwit bin man you might as well have your hair shaved. Looks a bloody sight better with all those fucking stinking clothes you’re wearing.

Shit man I sure do stink and why do I have such a cloud in my head but that’s all part of being thick ain’t it.

 You can smoke all you want later , James no Joe said, let me finish me fag in peace.

Time to  get up and get back to the bins. I’ve spoken to the manager and he’s waiting for you. You’ll love the job. No thinking just working with garbage and smoking.

 Great suit me man  Joe replied puffing on his fag with one hand and rubbing his cock through the Hi Viz with the other

 Looks like you’re needing to shoot judging by that tenting going on.

 Sure thing mate, a young guy like me always horny. With me fag and hiviz I’m always ready for a wank.

 I said no wanking until you have paid for the gear but I’ll take the money from your first weeks wages so why not get that dick of your out now.

 Shit man I’m fucking gagging for a wank.  Joe said as he unzipped and pulled out his meaty cock.

The owner started rubbing himself and Joe could see the entire length of the blockes shaft straining to get out.

 That’s some dick you’ve got there mate, Joe said

 Ain’t been washed for a few days

 Fine by me. Who wants to get out of HI Viz gear anyway

 So what you doing just sitting there with a fag in one hand and working your prick. Mine needs that mouth of yours. Get over here now.

 Sure mate always happy to help out another Hi Viz bloke. Just hope me bin mates like some good hard horny sex.

 Joe stubbed out his ciggie and got down on his knees in front of the owner. With his ciggie hand he got hold of the cock while keeping his other hand busy stroking his own.

 That’s some fucking cheesy dick you’ve got there.

 Quit the talking and get it down yer throat.

 Joe started licking the tip and could taste the precum. As he opened his mouth to take more cock in the Owner put his hands around Joe’s head and pulled him in ramming his dick down the back of his throat.

 Now that’s a blow job boy

 Joe was gagging but having that stinkin dick made him feel even more horny.

That’s it you fucking dim wit. The Owner started shoving Joes head back and forwards quicker and quicker and the quicker he did it the more Joe was furiously wanking.

 I’m cumin boy he said as he pushed Joe back. As he pushed Joe’s head back so his cock erupted spraying spunk over Joe’s jacket, the cum running down.

 You sure can fucking suck boy. Done that a few times and no doubt you’ll be sucking all those other bin men. Christ I needed that, watching you on my screen pick your gear. Made me so fucking hard. Now lets see you cum.

 Joe sat back his hand firmly gripping his cock, rubbing up and down harder and harder.

Shit man that’s some dick you have there and luvly and cheesy just as I like. Fuck I’m cumin, get ready man its going everywhere, I am so fucking horny. Shit here is comes.

 Joe arched back just in time for his spunk to spurt out of his cock all over his T shirt. Yeesss fuckin great.Shit I’ve been desperate for that. I’ve been rock hard for ages. No fucking  wonder I’ve spunked everywhere

 Joe just rubbed all the cum from both into his jacket and T shirt

 No point in cleaning up as my gear is dirty enough. Maybe if the boys smell the cum it’ll get them going.

Right, James, sorry Joe, its time you got off to your job. It’s the best job for you, no thinking just doing the bins. You said you fancied the binmen so now you got the job you asked for.

Yeah its perfect for me. Shit who wants to think much. As long as I’ve got my ciggies, beer and some cocks to work off you cant ask for more.

 Joe lit up another ciggie. Took a deep breath as he stood up.

 This is the fucking life. Thanks mate for all you’ve done. If you need another blow job or a good fuck let me know. I’m always horny and looking for action. Shit I’m getting hard just thinking about what we could get up to.

 Well think and dream about it as you will be back at the end of the week to pay me and I’ll tell you now that arse of yours will have my dick ramming up it. Bugger off boy and get to the bins.