plentyofnoise

[ken-dom]

It’s Crazy How I Need Your Friction

Ken x Driver

3.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Driver didn’t mind the occasional mess, because Ken always cleaned up after himself. He didn’t care very much for horses, either, but they made Ken happy and he liked Ken to be happy. He hadn’t, however, been so keen on Ken’s recent obsession with tools. At least, not to begin with.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: Thank you to my big sister K for reading this weeks ago and then reading it again when I finally got motivation to finish it. Motivation also provided by her and our delightful, never ending Driver conversation! Title from Kiss Me You Animal by Burn The Ballroom, recommended by Sascha 💖

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, masturbation, use of vibrator, dry humping, mentioned hand jobs and blow jobs, overstimulation, blood mention, crying, hammer kink - but specifically Driver’s hammer, copious amounts of glizz!

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s bland apartment had been much more a home since Ken had been around to brighten the place up.

There were always little surprises awaiting him when he returned, like when Ken tried baking for the first time and Driver found flour on every possible surface, between the bedsheets and dusted over the bathroom sink. But the extravagantly iced cupcakes smelled heavenly and tasted as incredible as Ken himself; Driver couldn’t ever get enough of that sweet pink glitter, and that night it was only improved by the butter icing smeared over Ken’s pretty face and bare chest.

Then there was the time Ken had come by a new horse themed blanket to throw over the otherwise dull two-seat sofa. Driver, never having been one for spending a great deal of time on soft furnishings at all, thought it was the softest texture he’d ever touched and fell asleep stroking the fleece with his fingertips while listening to Ken witter on endlessly and eagerly about his favourite horse facts.

Driver didn’t mind the occasional mess, because Ken always cleaned up after himself. He didn’t care very much for horses, either, but they made Ken happy and he liked Ken to be happy.

He hadn’t, however, been so keen on Ken’s recent obsession with tools. At least, not to begin with.

Ken had seen Driver come home with what he had learned was a hammer tucked into the back of his trousers one night, and after a brief explanation from Driver, his perfect doll had asked far too many questions for his liking.

Ever since then, and much to Driver’s dismay, Ken had been somewhat fixated. He wasn’t sure what exactly it was about the hammer that captivated him, but it seemed to stir something inside. Something thrilling. The same kind of feeling he got when Driver touched him in certain places, or kissed his neck. Tingly. Exciting.

‘Show me how you use it?’ he’d asked breathlessly while Driver was laid between his thighs, rolling his hips to slide their slick lengths together, lips hot against Ken’s neck, and Driver would shake his head without a word, rutting faster against his doll to distract his mind from the thought.

‘Where do you take it?’ he’d questioned with a whine as Driver wrapped his elegant, gloved hand around Ken’s pretty cock and pumped painfully slowly a few nights later.

‘Focus on my touch,’ Driver instructed plainly, swiping his thumb over Ken’s shimmering tip and eliciting a thick pearl of glittering precum and a hungry little groan.

Ken forgot about it soon enough.

‘Can you use it on me?’ he’d asked the next week.

That was the question that finally made Driver freeze up.

They were sitting on the soft horse blanket watching TV together, Drivers fingers sliding over the fleece in soothing, repetitive patterns with Ken’s perfectly pedicured feet resting on his lap.

‘Please?’ Ken pushed. ‘I want to see how it… feels…’

Driver’s fingers stopped rubbing at the blanket and he turned to look at Ken. His cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated, an enticing bulge steadily growing in his ridiculously sexy grey sweatpants.

‘No,’ Driver said softly but firmly, sparkling eyes flicking back up to Kens pleading ones.

‘Oh, please… you look so good with it. So strong and-’

Driver crawled forward and sealed his lips over Kens, heated and forceful.

‘You’re better than that, Ken,’ Driver breathed against those perfect lips, a hard bulge tenting in his jeans, now, too.

And then Ken’s vision blurred as Driver dipped lower, pulled down those grey sweatpants and wrapped his mouth around Ken’s pretty, throbbing cock.

****

Two days later, there was something waiting for Ken when he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled through to the kitchen.

Driver had usually left the apartment by the time Ken woke up, which was no surprise. Since living in the real world, some days Ken could sleep in until lunch and still take an afternoon nap. How humans did so much without rest caused his head to ache if he thought about it for too long.

This morning (or was it afternoon now?), beside Ken’s horse mug, prepared with a strawberry tea bag, and a full kettle ready to boil at the touch of a button on the counter, was a plain white box wrapped with a pink bow, a short message jotted on the front in neat black ink.

TO MY PRETTY DOLL, Ken recognised Driver’s all-caps handwriting immediately, SOMETHING A LITTLE SAFER FOR YOU TO PLAY WITH. BE GOOD FOR ME UNTIL I’M HOME.

The message was signed off with a little winking face that made Ken’s heart flutter. Be good with a wink usually seemed to mean it was ok to be naughty from what he’d understood of the real world so far.

Ken’s brow furrowed and his head tilted to the side as he unwrapped the bow and slid the lid off the box. Inside was a charging cable, a small bottle of liquid, and a brand new hammer.

It didn’t look like Driver’s hammer. It wasn’t made of heavy looking metal, it was pink, which immediately delighted Ken, and it had three buttons near the top. The handle was textured with a soft twisted groove running around it, rounded rather pleasantly at the end. It looked soft and hard in equal measures and something about that made Ken’s core clench.

He carefully removed the hammer from the packaging and held the tool in his palm, gently running his fingers over the soft silicone, wondering what the buttons were for. Driver’s hammer didn’t have buttons.

He pressed the one in the centre of the three, displaying what he had recently learned was the universal symbol for on/off, and upon feeling the effect it had, immediately dropped it.

The hammer buzzed across the counter top, having vibrated quite vigorously in Ken’s grip, and as much as it had surprised him, it had also turned his eyes wide.

This was no hammer, Ken realised, it was a sex toy. The first one he’d seen for real. The first one he’d held. And it was all his.

He watched in awe as his new toy juddered along, feeling a familiar sort of power pump through his veins.

Did Driver want him to use it? He wasn’t sure exactly how to do that. He could figure it out, though, he was sure. Maybe there would be an instruction manual. Like the one included with the coffee table flat pack they’d bought, which Driver assembled while Ken watched, hard and panting by the time Driver had finished with the screwdriver.

Giggling at how the toy had felt against his palm, he picked it up and switched it off, heading straight back to bed with the box tucked under his arm like he meant business and his head held high with a determined grin pulling at his lips.

Settling into place, cross-legged on the unmade bed, he popped the bottle of liquid from the packaging, and discovered a folded piece of paper hidden under it.

Beneath the brand name and and a bold subtitle of Vibrates on all ends!, the paper contained instructions in impossibly minuscule text. Much to Ken’s relief, as he scanned down the paper he found little drawings showing how each button worked, how to charge the toy, and how to use each part.

His cheeks burned the more he looked at the little images. Driver had chosen this toy especially for him, and wherever he was right now, he’d know Ken was using it. His heart began to pound in his chest.

A quiet little whine filled the otherwise silent room, Ken’s cock was already leaking in anticipation. He was sure he could learn by doing rather than being shown… Driver wouldn’t have trusted him with it otherwise, would he?

He dropped back onto the pillows and shimmied his joggers down, gasping at the cool air stinging his heated flesh. He grabbed the hammer and, watching carefully, dragged the head of it slowly up the underside of his length, collecting a thick pearl of sparkly precum from the tip, holding it there as his chest heaved.

Hand shaking, his thumb moved to hover over the on/off button again, and swallowing hard, Ken started up the vibration.

A high pitched moan echoed around the whole apartment. The vibration was a little strong to start with, so he quickly played with the top button to adjust the strength, groaning in relief when he found the perfect setting.

His cock was throbbing already, and aching to be touched. He pushed the head of the hammer lower, pressing it against the base of his cock before gradually pulling it back up, feeling every jolt of the vibrator in minute detail.

Ken’s free hand balled into a tight fist, twisting the sheets beneath him in his grip, and his head dropped back against the pillow as his back arched off the bed.

It felt like nothing he could ever have imagined, his whole body completely lost in the rapture of the vibration, shooting sensations he’d never before felt through his whole body. All thought had vanished in a haze of overwhelming bliss and in the midst of a loud string of weak, hungry moans, a guttural, drawn out growl erupted from his throat as a hot rope of glittery slick shot up over his stomach and coated his smooth skin with a pretty, pink release.

Ken never had much of a refractory period. He wasn’t sure if it was due to having been a doll in Barbieland – Ken was made to be used in whichever way the person playing with him saw fit. Or perhaps it was because since he became human and discovered so many new physical sensations, he had been insatiably horny to make up for all that genital-less time.

In any event, he was hard again almost immediately, and, ignoring the pink shimmer drying on his stomach, he immediately pressed the vibrator to hip tip again, long fingers wrapping around his sensitive cock to stroke his shaft, pumping lightly.

He imagined what Driver might do if he saw him like this, with that dangerous glint in his handsome eyes; the look that fascinated Ken… flicking away his toothpick to focus his mouth on lapping up the mess Ken had made instead, before helping him make another one-

And here it was. With a shout, and a much more furious pump of his fist, he released another helping of that delicious pink cum Driver seemed to love so much.

Ken’s breath had turned heavy. Two orgasms in and he usually started to feel a little tired out, even if he knew could go for a couple more rounds. But this was different; all he felt was a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach, his cock barely softening before standing to attention again, his heart racing.

He wanted more.

It was like the first time Driver made him cum. A simple hand job inside his trousers, but it made Ken so hungry for whatever that feeling was, he had to run off to the bathroom to jerk himself off three more times before his body would calm, each time trying to replicate the feeling Driver had given him, but never quite reaching it.

He’d never touched himself before, and it was intense and exciting and a little bit naughty. And when he asked Driver if it was normal, he’d simply replied with a quiet chuckle and a shrug. Later, as they were falling asleep, Driver had whispered, ‘I would’ve taken care of it for you, you know. If you’d wanted,’ and just like that Ken was hard again.

Ken tried to let his breath settle for a moment, and whilst still, he wondered when Driver would be home. He missed him, which wasn’t unusual after only an hour apart, but he also longed to show him how the hammer felt. He knew Driver would want to watch from the chair in the corner while Ken played out all the ways he’d used it today, and it made Ken’s core (and heart) ache. But he also wanted to use it on Driver, to make his eyes roll back and his breath catch and his cock throb just like his own had.

Mmh. Driver’s cock. Suddenly, Ken felt the desire to be filled to the brim, and reached for the little bottle of lube. His fingers wandered down between his legs to find his hole, trying to remember how Driver always did it.

With a generous squirt of the cool liquid, he pushed a finger inside and gasped, pumping carefully before daring to add another. His cock twitched as he fucked into himself, but he ignored it for now, wanting to get the handle of that hammer inside him before he came again this time.

His mind wandered to how this had all started – Driver’s hammer, and how he’d fantasized about him pulling it out of the back of his jeans and dragging it down Ken’s chest, hooking it inside the waistband his trousers to rip them off, and then fucking him with it, hard and fast until Ken saw stars.

He slid his fingers out and grabbed the hammer once again, hastily coating it with lube before slowly pushing it inside with a strangled, ‘Augh!’ when it reached that spot inside that made his toes curl. 

It felt different to Driver. Not bad, just different. 

He fumbled for the buttons and started up the soft vibration again, gentle, but as it turned out, very effective.

He writhed around on the bed, trying to find the perfect position to fuck himself, and ended up laid on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest, one hand controlling the thrusting of the hammer and the other wrapped loosely around his cock, massaging lightly.

****

When Driver returned, the pleasant scent of strawberry milk hit him like a tonne of bricks. He clicked the front door shut quietly behind him as he considered the options. Knowing Ken the way he did, it could mean one of two things; either Ken made a copious amount of milkshakes and had coated half the kitchen in pink, creamy liquid, which wouldn’t surprise Driver at all, or Ken had a very good time with the toy he’d left for him.

One of Driver’s favourite things about being intimate with Ken was the reward of his pink, sparkly, artificial strawberry scented seed he got every time he made him cum. It had of course been a talking point when he’d first seen it, after the initial phase of handjobs inside trousers and dry humping while they made out. And Driver could never get enough of it. He was sure he never would.

He didn’t want to disturb Ken, so he moved carefully. If he was lucky, he could watch for a while, see how Ken liked to use the hammer when he was alone. This was a slightly dangerous idea, since he knew he would cum in his pants from the sight alone, but he really he wanted to fuck Ken for himself after knowing he’d played with his toy all day.

Stuffing his gloves into his back pocket, he passed the sofa, and, finding no evidence of Ken, peered around the corner to the bed.

Ah. There he was. Sprawled out on his front, the pink hammer held loosely in his palm between his perfect ass cheeks.

Snoring.

Driver sighed, soft and dreamy. His pretty doll had worn himself out.

‘Had fun, baby?’ he smiled, crouching by the bed and softly stroking Ken’s cheek.

He swallowed hard when Ken shifted and revealed a big, pink stain, subtly shimmering in the low light. Running his fingers through the sticky pool, he couldn’t help but raise his fingertips to his lips and savour what he’d collected, cock straining in his jeans as soon as the taste spread over his tongue.

He bit down on his toothpick, jaw clenching as he attempted to calm himself. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stood to clean up his doll and tuck him comfortably into bed. 

Ken continued to snore contentedly as Driver moved around the bed and knelt on the mattress behind him. When Driver’s careful fingers wrapped around the hammer to remove and clean it, Ken moaned. Really moaned, and began to push his hips back, seeking the feeling again.

Driver froze, dropping the toy and waiting to see if Ken was waking up or having what he supposed would be classed as a wet dream.

Ken’s hand felt around haphazardly for the vibrator, instead coming into contact with the arm Driver was using to prop himself up.

Ken’s eyes flew open and he flipped onto his back in one swift motion, screaming dramatically until he realised it was just his lover returned home.

Driver smiled down at him with a crooked, mildly naughty smirk, and Ken blushed crimson.

‘Th-thank you for the- the-’ he tried, trailing off as the realisation hit him that he was lying in a pool of his own cum, the rest of it drying against his skin. And that he was hard again.

‘How many times?’ Driver asked simply. His voice was delicate and laced with lust.

Ken lifted his hands to count on his fingers, flicking them up one by one as he tried to remember. He got lost somewhere along the way and started again with a furrowed brow, clearly losing track again and growling in frustration.

Driver wrapped his soft hands around Ken’s wrists and lowered them for him.

‘Hey, it doesn’t matter. One more – for me?’

Panting, Ken nodded, and Driver smiled, collecting up the toy and switching it on. The vibration seemed a little slow, like it needed charging, and Ken must have known this to be the case because he averted his gaze, cheeks glowing again.

Briefly, Driver wondered if the vibration would be strong enough to satisfy him, but going by the way Ken was leaking already, he thought he might be just sensitive enough for it not to matter.

He positioned himself above Ken, watching his perfect doll’s chiselled chest heave with need, the scent of strawberry overwhelming his senses now he was closer. His knee was slippery and wet through his jeans where he’d knelt in a patch of glittery cum. His cock throbbed, and he knew they’d be damp at the crotch soon, too.

Cautiously, Driver pressed the flat part of the hammer to the underside of Ken’s sensitive cock and watched it throb, too. Ken covered his face with his hands, so overwhelmed with pleasure he wondered whether he could physically take any more, despite how much he wanted it. He whimpered so weakly that Driver almost moaned, but managed to swallow it down before it slipped out.

Tears pricked at Ken’s eyes as Driver slid the hammer upwards, collecting a sparkling string of precum on the way to his steadily leaking tip, where he pressed the vibrator a little firmer. Even with the vibration running low, that’s all it took for Ken to fall apart once again, more strawberry shimmer erupting from his tip as tears flooded his cheeks, his back arched and his fingers gripped onto Driver’s jacket sleeves as if for dear life.

The most desperate, choked out sound he’d ever made ripped from his throat, and it sounded almost like pain. Driver practically swooned.

He had long since forgotten that he wanted to bury himself inside Ken; the sight of his pleasure mingled exhaustion from too many orgasms proved more than enough to bring him of, and he spilled, hot and wet inside his underwear, dropping down onto Ken and bucking his hips erratically against the doll’s firm thigh to chase some friction as his release took hold and stained the front of his jeans a darker shade of blue.

He rolled off Ken, hammer in one hand and Ken, sobbing and trembling now, seeking his other hand to hold. There was a long, comfortable silence as they both took the time to recover, and Ken snuggled into Driver’s side, beginning to doze off again pretty quickly. His free fingers tightly gripped onto his lover’s lightly blood-splattered shirt under that quilted jacket, and the mechanic laid beneath his doll with a satisfied smirk pulling hard at his lips.

It felt nice to be wanted. To be useful to someone. Someone he cared about, no less.

Driver tenderly kissed the top of Ken’s bleach blonde head and when he’d caught his breath, he took the opportunity to carefully slip away, clean himself up and change, run a bath for Ken and order them both some food.

They could sleep on the horse blanket tonight, fall asleep to one of Ken’s cutesy films on the sofa while the hammer was plugged in to charge, and worry about the bedsheets tomorrow.

[uncleclam]

Driver x Ken n/s/f/w

Glizz and Glove, full on X

This is a little glizz collab thingy where @hollandstrophyhusband @drivinmeinsane @ken-dom @ken-f-cker and i did a tribute to ken’s glittery cum! Check out their fics RIGHT NOW they are delicious.

Mine is a piece of fanart where driver jerks ken off in the garage, i like the idea of ken getting fully naked in semi-public place like that. Anyway, enjoy glizz fest!

[drivinmeinsane]

Thoughts on Officer KD6-3.7 as a romantic partner

It takes K a long time to confront his own feelings about you, much less say it out loud. He was worried that if he acknowledged the love he feels for you, he would be irreparably changed, never close to baseline again. He wasn’t wrong. To love and to be loved in return is to be changed.

He uses terms of endearment for you more than he uses your name. It helps to make his dreams of serene domesticity more of a reality. “sweetheart”, “darling”, and “honey” are his go-tos. The first time you called him by a pet name, he stopped dead in his tracks, completely overwhelmed. It gives him a sense of humanity, of belonging, when you call by something kind.

K would never miss a special date. He’ll even go so far as to make up his own milestones and celebrations as an excuse to do something nice for you when the mood strikes. It’s your anniversary today? Sure, of the twentieth Tuesday you’ve known him.

The replicant is touch starved. Even simple brushes of your hand against his or grazes of your bodies together when you move past one another is enough to bring him leaning into your space, chasing the sensation. It is not something he seems to have control over.

He's more comfortable being touched than being the one to touch. He’s not accustomed to being allowed to initiate contact with no orders or with implied permission. Once K overcomes that barrier, he can hardly keep his hands off of you. He places lingering hands on your arms, brushes his fingers over your palm, winds your hair around his fingers, anything at all to feel something tangible and remind himself that you are here with him.

He wants so badly to be real for you. In his worst moments, he’s worried that he won’t ever be enough, that his status as a replicant makes him lesser, not worthy of your affections. His fears lead him to believe that you would prefer an organic partner.

K often tells you that you don’t have to be nice to him, that you don’t have to treat him with the care and tenderness that you do. He can’t seem to fathom that you actually want him. He doesn’t have anything to offer you but himself and that’s hardly worth having, isn’t it?

He would do anything within the realm of his capabilities for you. You are the most important thing in his existence. He wishes he were not a despised pet tethered to the LAPD. He wishes he could leave without becoming what he retires.

He reads to you. It takes his mind off the work day. The apartment isn’t filled with many books, but you enjoy each of them because the time he spends reading out loud is soothing for the both of you. His steady voice lulls you into a relaxed state from where he reads in his chair as you sit on the couch with his feet resting on your lap. His voice gets rougher and deeper when you trace nonsensical patterns over his legs.

While he’s not supposed to take items from crime scenes, he does it anyway, slipping them into the pockets on the inside of his coat. He comes home and shows what he has taken to you with the earnest hope that you will enjoy the meager offering. He can’t afford to give you much, but he can do this.

He always looks at you like you’re going to disappear. His eyes scan you like a data screen any chance he gets. He’s memorizing everything about you with each pass of his eyes. He holds those observations close for fear they’ll be all he has left of you. He doesn’t get to keep things. He doesn’t get to own anything that can’t be taken away. He’s a possession himself. 

18+ content under the cut.

His cum is bio-luminescent. In the dark, it glows a pretty blue to match his eyes. It's another reminder that K is not quite human.

He's nervous about sexual contact due to past experiences and trauma. You're one of the very few people that he's actually wanted to be intimate with. He’s firm, almost aggressive, in bed. He’s starved for physical intimacy for so long, that he longs to feast, to make up for the absence.

K firmly believes that he is a tool. He is made to give, not to receive, so it surprises him every time when you want to bring him pleasure for the sake of it. The novelty of receiving a blow job or something that focuses solely on him never wears off.

He has a breeding kink. He knows it's impossible for him to get anyone pregnant, but it's nice to occasionally lose himself in the fantasy of being real enough to make it happen.

If Joi is an active participant in your lives, one thing that really gets him off is engaging in sex with you while Joi is activated. Her being there to murmur encouraging things to the both of you, dictating how you should touch each other, gets him cumming embarrassingly fast.

{ m a s t e r l i s t }

[howertism]

i’ll never get tired of this gif

[lurkeryan]

He Ate HOW MANY Glizzies?

[minecraftdog]

i live for the tiny unconcious smile george gives dream when he says whatever

[got-eggs]

I love this gif so much

[wwwj1ncom]

none of you will ever understand my plight because i know gnf would look SOOOOO FAWKING GOOD AS OLD MAN YAOI. he would look so good with creases in worked parks of his skin and salt and pepper hair. but that fucker ages like benjamin button i'm never gonna get my sexy old man yuri gnf im gonna seriously kill myself.

[squintin-tarantinoo]

Took a big ol step back to remember what I’m working towards. The future looks good and I’m locked the heck in.

[yohohotookabiteofgumgum]

Haha first off I dont have to do anything for you. I got THOSE IDEAS because it doesn't look like you're wrapped up in the same problematic character ruining behavior the other two are. Especially the one writing about Ken glittering everywhere. HE WOULD NEVER BE INTERESTED IN DRIVER LIKE THAT. HE WOULDN'T GLITTER OR WHATEVER YOUR FRIEND/FAMILY/COUSIN/SISTER/AUNT/MOM/DOG/ACQUAINTANCE CALLS IT!!!! I recognize someone harmful and toxic when I see them. I'm sorry you can't see it and help yourself before they ruin your characters to.

[ken-dom]

Pretty Doll

Lars Lindstrom x Ken

2k words

Summary: Lars got himself a new doll

Author’s notes: written for what I guess we’re calling Glizz Fest 🩷✨ celebrating the pink shimmery goodness that is stored inside the Ken

Glizz Fest includes appearances from: @ken-f-cker @drivinmeinsane @hollandstrophyhusband and @uncleclam, and we thoroughly encourage anyone else to participate in making Ken glizz!

Warnings/content: nsfw, nudity, hand job, cumming untouched, hinted first time, GLIZZ 💖

Lars sighed, pulling off his woolly hat and sliding off his coat with eyes squeezed shut. He’d just about managed to lose Karin when she had tackled him to his car and made him promise to join her and Gus for dinner tomorrow if he wouldn’t come tonight.

And it definitely would not be tonight.

He’d had a long day at work, battling against incessant noise and constant interruptions from his insufferable coworker about topics he’d rather not discuss. Not at work anyway. And not with him.

What would it take to just be left alone for a single minute?!

‘Lars?’ Came a sweet voice from behind the bathroom door, and Lars remembered himself. He’d almost forgotten about his new guest in the whirlwind of just trying to get through his front door.

His heart skipped a beat when he opened his eyes and saw Ken emerging in a haze of steam, one of his own fluffy white towels tied low around that tiny waist. Wrapped very low. And Ken’s hipbones we’re protruding in such an… interesting way…

Lars swallowed hard.

He’d never actually seen Ken’s body. Not properly anyway, since Ken had been dressing in Lars’s thick sweaters to combat the cold weather he wasn’t used to. And this almost naked Ken was quite a sight.

His skin was glowing pink from the heat of the shower, and Lars watched a droplet of water trickle over his chest and abs, all the way down to soak into that towel he suddenly had the urge to remove. Should he be wondering what Ken looked like beneath it?

But Ken was perfect and Lars couldn’t stop looking. He blinked furiously, trying to tear his gaze away, but as he turned himself about to find a distraction, he just kept ending up back on Ken’s chiselled chest and broad shoulders and strong arms and-

‘Lars, have you had a hard day?’ Ken pressed, dropping his head back to shake the remaining damp from his soft, beach-blonde hair.

‘Uhm- yeah,’ Lars nodded, finally finding Ken’s outrageously sparkly blue eyes instead of focusing his gaze on that ripped torso.

‘Hmm, I bet I can help with that,’ Ken offered, stepping forward. Lars stumbled back and Ken frowned. ‘Unless you don’t want me to…’

Lars took a deep, shaky breath, steadying himself and trying to quieten his thoughts.

‘No, no, it’s not that I don’t want- well, it… it depends what you have in mind,’ he stuttered, unsure but curious, and Ken beamed at the intonation of his voice that suggested Lars might be open to what he had in mind. Ken didn’t know how to say it, and he didn’t really understand it, but he wanted to be closer. To be able to actually touch Lars.

‘Oh I think you’ll like it! You see, I’m great at doing massages. I bet I can relax your shoulders in no time at all!’

Every word from Ken’s perfect lips was eager and excited and did nothing to help Lars stop thinking about how he wanted to get his hands on those outrageous pecs and squeeze them, and then press his mouth to Ken’s, swallow his moans as he-

Ken shot past Lars to sit himself on the edge of the bed, flexing his elegant fingers. ‘So? What do you say?!’

‘Okay,’ Lars breathed, dropping down beside Ken. What harm would a shoulder massage do?

‘Oh, great! So just take your sweater off, and your shirt. And your underclothes- how many layers do you wear?!’ Ken mused, pulling at the shoulders of Lars’s sweater.

Lars snapped himself up, instantly pacing the small space between his little kitchen table and his bed, running his hands through his hair to calm himself. Ken’s touch, even through his many layers of clothing, was causing an uncomfortable heat to stir between his thighs. Uncomfortable but intriguing. And he couldn’t ignore it. Especially not with Ken’s big, strong hands on his shoulders. Especially not if he took his clothes off. He wanted it, that was the problem. He’d never wanted touch so badly.

‘Lars, what is it?’ Ken smiled up at him. ‘If you don’t wanna take your clothes off it’s ok-’

‘Ken, how would you feel if I touched you? Instead?’ Lars stilled, facing Ken, who was still grinning up at him.

‘Sure!’

Lars’s eyes widened. ‘R-really?’

‘Yeah! I love massages. Not that I’ve ever had one. But I like the idea of it! How do you want me?’

Lars almost choked. Ken’s big hopeful eyes and fluttery eyelashes made his heart skip, too.

‘I guess… lay down on the bed?’

‘Okay!’

Ken made himself comfortable laid still on his back, just like a boxed up doll waiting eagerly to be plucked from the shelf, unwrapped and played with.

Lars’s chest heaved. He’d expected Ken to lay on his front. But… he could hardly complain at the view. Carefully, he knelt on the mattress, hands finding Ken’s ankles for balance as he shuffled up to the hem of the towel.

He pushed his palms up the smoothe, soft skin of Ken’s shins and Ken spread his legs. Lars turned momentarily dizzy. He stopped at the towel, not daring to reach beneath it, and instead splayed his hands slowly over the expanse of Ken’s chest, fascinated with the contours that were so unlike his own, caressing the firm muscles as he slid his delicate yet warm touch higher, over those deliciously broad shoulders and then back down, eliciting an almost imperceptible giggle from Ken as he disturbed both perky, pink nipples.

‘That tickled!’ Ken smiled up at the ceiling, still laid obediently, but shivering a little now.

‘Sorry,’ Lars whispered earnestly. ‘Such a pretty doll…’

Ken’s cheeks burned crimson. ‘D-do it again?’

‘Oh… okay…’

Lars dragged his thumbs gently over Ken’s perfectly formed nipples and Ken moaned.

Lars did it again. And again, until Ken was trembling and his fingers were gripping the blankets at either side of him.

Ken was pretty sure massages didn’t usually focus so heavily on nipples, but it felt strangely good to be touched so carefully, with all of Lars’s attention on him through a heated gaze. A new thrill ran through Ken and pooled somewhere low, right at his core, and his stomach clenched with a need he didn’t recognise. It was pitched somewhere between hunger and the instinct to scratch an itch.

Lars, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably between Ken’s spread thighs, his cock straining against the inside of his trousers. He glanced down as he manoeuvred and immediately caught sight of the huge tent that had formed under Ken’s towel, too.

‘Ken…’ Lars breathed, hands now at either side of Ken’s waist and eyes glued at the impressive bulge between his legs.

‘Yeah?’ Ken sighed dreamily, glancing down too. His eyes widened when he saw the shape under the towel, and the similar one in Lars’s trousers.

‘M-May I touch you… there?’ Lars heaved, tentatively lifting a shaky hand to hover over Ken’s length, standing to attention before him.

Ken’s hips bucked up involuntarily. ‘Yes! Please-!’ he whimpered.

With a heavy exhale, Lars unfastened the towel and let it drop to his sides, revealing the prettiest cock he’d ever seen. He gasped at the sight of it, smoothe, long, a little leaner than his own but still thick, a pearly drop of what looked like pink precum beading at the tip.

Ken whined as another thick drop of precum pumped from his tip, his cock twitching with anticipation.

‘Alright…’ Lars braced himself, nodding and taking a deep breath as he watched Ken, still laid out obediently, although his innocent smile had turned into a needy lip bite that made Lars’s cock twitch too.

He felt Ken shudder when he traced a single finger up from the base to the tip, still in awe of this beautiful, perfect sex toy of a cock and the way the pink liquid he was steadily leaking glittered in the light.

He pressed his palm to the underside, giving a gentle rub against the soft flesh to test the waters. Ken shuddered.

‘Such a pretty doll,’ Lars repeated, more to himself than anything, and Ken’s length throbbed against his palm.

‘Please,’ Ken mewled, not really sure what he was begging for, ‘f-feels so good-’

‘I know,’ Lars soothed, smiling, finally wrapping his fist around Ken’s cock and pumping slowly. ‘I know.’

Ken stiffened beneath him, back arching off the bed and fingers nearly tearing through the sheets. Lars moaned, feeling his own cock throb inside the confines of his trousers, the way he was knelt on on his ankles pulling his trousers taut over his core, which did nothing to alleviate the desperate ache there.

‘Lars- Lars!’ Ken cried, not knowing how to process what he was feeling or what was building inside him.

Ken’s head tipped back against the pillow, and Lars leaned over him, not wanting to miss a single minute of his deliciously pleasure-contorted face.

Lars braced himself over Ken with his free hand by Ken’s side, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as the pressure of his crumpled trousers against his straining cock eased with the new position, the fabric rubbing against him with a friction that almost hurt.

‘K-Ken,’ he panted, pumping his doll faster, harder, watching as Ken lost control.

A strangled cry echoed around the room as Ken’s hands flew up to grip onto Lars’s back and he shot a thick rope of sparkling pink cum over his own chiselled abs, splashing up against Lars too, the hot glitter pooling around the defined muscles of Ken’s stomach and clinging to the fibres of Lars’s sweater, staining the wool.

‘S-so pretty…’ Lars was breathless just watching him, his handsome face screwed up in bliss, pretty lips parted, and his hair, which had dried a little messier than Lars was used to seeing it, stuck to his forehead.

Ken gradually blinked open his eyes to see Lars above him, bracing himself with both hands now, biting his lips together and screwing his eyes shut tight, chest heaving.

‘Lars, are you-’

‘Oh- oh… oughhhmmmnnnh!’

‘Oh!’ Ken exclaimed excitedly, lifting his head to look between their bodies. ‘You’re glittering too?! Wow!’

Lars’s body curled above Ken, the last of his seed spilling into his underwear, cock twitching through his orgasm, achingly untouched but so relieved it felt heavenly.

He whimpered weakly, collapsing beside Ken, a prominent wet patch forming on the front of his trousers, while Ken’s glitter shone proudly over his jumper.

Ken was already an excited ball of energy, high on the thrill of his orgasm and eager to learn more about Lars’s pleasure, too.

‘Wow look at this-’ Ken dragged his fingers through the cum on his stomach and examined it in the light. ‘It’s so pretty, and it felt incredible! Is yours glittery too? What colour is it?’

‘It- it’s not-’ Lars tried, but he couldn’t finish the sentence, vaguely gesturing toward his trousers instead.

‘Please can I see it!?’

‘Mmhmm.’

Ken unfastened Lars’s trousers hastily and gasped just as loudly as Lars had when he saw Ken’s cock for the first time.

Lars was softening now, but his cock was impressive, thick and sturdy, a thin line of dark blonde hair trailing down from his stomach to the base of his cock where it grew thicker. Ken was fascinated by that, but for now he was too preoccupied with the glitter to focus on it.

Lars peered down to see Ken, some shimmering liquid now spread over his cheek somehow, looking closely at Lars’s cock, his head tilted.

‘It’s not glittery unless you’re a doll,’ Lars said softly, breathlessly.

‘Huh…’ Ken dipped his fingers into the thick creamy pool collected in Lars’s underwear and brought his fingers up to eye level. ‘Feels just as nice though… may I taste it?’

Lars’s eyebrows raised for a second, and then his head fell back against the pillow, Ken’s sucking their combined cum off his fingers the final straw, until Ken spoke again.

‘Mmm… how do we make more?’

[ninthwonderoftheworld]

I told my mom I was gonna make a grilled cheese and some tomato soup, and she said, "Like George at Universal with the glizz!!"

[mc-slowwalker]

so it has WHAT on it???

[drivinmeinsane]

Bad Dog

※ Ryan Gosling!Ken x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You have volunteered to give Ken a lesson in being a good dog. It takes a firm hand to get positive results.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Petplay, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pegging, Strap-Ons, Bondage and Discipline, Bondage, Strap Sucking, Ken has glittery cum (glizz), Instances of crack treated seriously, Allan is an innocent bystander, Semi-public sex

※ Word count: 4,274

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: Happy glizz fest everyone! Be sure to check out the wonderful participatory works by @hollandstrophyhusband, @ken-dom, @uncleclam, @danime25, and @ken-f-cker. A huge thanks goes to @yohohotookabiteofgumgum. This goofy fic would still be rotting in my drafts if she hadn’t helped me cook. 

It’s evening by the time you find yourself at the door of what has now permanently become Ken’s mojo dojo casa house. Barbie hadn’t wanted to keep it, electing to move on with her existence in the real world. Ken hadn’t had the wherewithal to do the same. He remained in this plastic oasis, still coming to terms with being ‘just Ken’. He wasn’t progressing anything that had happened to him. There are still too many patriarchal ideas knocking around in that blond head of his, which is where you come in.

The other Barbies had been nervous about letting you go alone to confront him, but you had reassured them that you would be able to handle the situation just fine. Ken wouldn’t be a problem. He just needed a firm hand. 

You press the large, heart shaped button serving as the doorbell. The chime echoes easily through the open concept home. Almost immediately, you hear the noises of objects being tossed aside as Ken hurries to answer the door. He swings the door open with such energy that you have to take a step back to avoid being hit with the saloon door. He stands in the doorway, arm slung over the plastic.

“Hey.” He squints at you, clearly confused as to why you’re not his ex-girlfriend.

You take in his disheveled appearance. It’s late and Ken has stripped off all the extra accessories that he piles on each time he leaves the house for the day. He’s just in his pants with the lightning bolts down the side. There’s not a watch or headband in sight. He looks softer like this, more authentic.

“Hi, Ken. I’m here to help you,” you tell him before going on the offensive and putting a hand on his bare chest. Despite himself, his eyes flutter closed at your touch and he shudders. Your other hand is occupied with holding onto your overflowing bag.

“H-help me with what?” When he speaks, it sounds as though he’s struggling to form thoughts, much less sentences. You’ve already overwhelmed him and you haven’t even gotten him upstairs yet. 

“Being a better member of Barbieland,” you respond, trailing your hand down his chest before pulling it away. Depriving him. He nearly pitches over forward to chase after the contact. He’s even more needy than you had expected.

He barely collects himself enough to scramble for the macho persona he’s developed to make up for his insecurities. He can’t quite put on the indifferent mask, not when he’s looking at you with such wide eyes. He stands aside though, allowing you to pass by him into the spacious home.

“What do you mean by a… better member?” 

“I’ve heard that you haven’t been a very good Ken lately, a lot of dolls are upset with what you’ve been getting up to.”

He frowns at your chiding words and looks away. There’s shame in the movement and you almost think he might apologize, making the lesson you came here to teach obsolete. The horse decor is so overwhelming that you reach out and gently cup his chin to get him to look at you. He’s a more pleasant sight than the 72’ inch screen of the same horse video looping over and over again. You ignore the tapestry fluttering in the corner over his shoulder. 

The blond doll is trying to put on an indifferent face and failing miserably. “It’s impossible to do anything right. I can’t even get an appliance that has freezer space. ”

Your face softens. “I know. I can help you learn.”

“There’s nothing for me to learn. I learned everything I needed to know in Century City.” He pauses, taking in the hand still under his chin. He straightens up and pulls you into his muscular arms. You fight back surprise as he swings you into a low dip. “For instance, I learned what to do when someone pretty comes to your house in the middle of the night…”

He purses his lips and leans down to plant a kiss on you. You slap him across the face, hard. “Bad dog!”

Ken recoils, nearly dropping you as he reels back. He lets you drag yourself back into an upright position by using his shoulder for support. You shove his clinging arms away. 

“I didn’t give you permission,” you say. Your tone is cold.

His eyes flit away from you. He’s holding onto his cheek with one broad hand. “Men don’t need permission.”

“Ken, you’re going to learn that they do.”

That gets a sarcastic laugh out of him. It’s unbearably obnoxious and part of you wants to strike him across the face again. You manage to hold yourself back by reassuring yourself that he’s about to get what he deserves. 

“Prove it,” he says to you. He’s way too cocky.

He wilts a little under your unimpressed gaze. Even now, Ken is in desperate need of approval. That desire is what had gotten him into trouble in the real world. You suppose the fault doesn’t rest solely upon his shoulders when you consider that he had been treated like a second rate citizen, an accessory , for who knows how long.

You catch him by the arm. He brightens up at the meager contact. He follows willingly as you make the trek to the third floor. The bedroom is equally a decorative disaster to the ground floor, but you’re not here to make too many judgements about his interior design choices. You separate from him to put your bag down on the horse themed bedspread before pulling out the first of the many items you will be using for Ken’s lesson. You turn to face him. He stands slightly off to the side near one of the support pillars. The pose he’s striking seems to be one that’s attempting to portray an aura of confidence, but it doesn’t seem to be working out for him. He seems wrong-footed and uncertain.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

He rolls his eyes at your demand but listens. The innate desire to obey is still in him. Tonight, your job will be to remind him that it exists. You feel like everything is going to plan while you calmly observe him settle in and look up at you expectantly from halfway across the room. 

It’s time to move to the next stage. Thinking quickly, you pull his faux fur coat off the bed and spread it out onto the floor at your feet.  “Come here.”

There’s a long moment where you think his pride will be too much, that he will refuse to listen to you, but he submits to your instruction once again. He does exactly what you meant for him to do. Instead of rising to his feet, he crawls across the floor to you. He pauses once he’s squarely on his coat. There’s a defiant look on his face that tries to inform you that he’s playing along just for now. 

You kneel and fasten the collar that you’ve been holding in your hands around his neck. It fits snugly with just enough room to squeeze a couple fingers in between the bright pink material and his skin. There’s no tag on the collar. He hasn’t yet earned one. While he waits, you quickly pull out another object. After a quick adjustment, it’s ready.

“Take those off,” you order, gesturing to his pants, “and put this on.” you finish, throwing the mess of faux leather straps that you’ve been holding at him.

Ken picks up and turns it over in his broad hands, trying to decipher what it is. You don’t provide assistance. You’ve unclipped the arm restraints and tossed them onto the bed next to the bag. You’ll need them later. Ken isn’t quite at the point where you need that much control over him.

“This looks like something they had at that dance party place,” he mumbles to himself. You struggle to not raise your eyebrows. Just what had he gotten up to while in the real world?

His own words seem to assist him in connecting the dots because he flashes you a smirk. He launches into action. Almost as if he’s thinking this is some macho Century City display, he tries to sensually strip for you. He does an unnecessary amount of flexing and posturing while he pulls off his pants and clumsily tightens the straps around his waist and thighs. Once he’s sure everything is in place, he settles back on all fours. He’s fully naked now aside from the harness he’s wearing. The pink straps of the harness, made complete by the pink bows settled precisely on his asscheeks, are obvious against his tanned skin. He’s waiting rather impatiently for you to make the next move, but something else seems to register in his mind.

“Well? Why am I the only one exposed like this?” He asks, brow furrowed.

“It’s part of your lesson. Remember how you made the Barbies wear demeaning outfits?” You explain, trying to keep the condescension out of your tone. You would not be removing so much as your shoes during the duration of the lesson. He had done nothing to earn an eyeful of your skin. No visuals and no touching. Bad pets don't get the privilege.

He doesn’t respond, mulling over your words. You step onto the coat and offer him a pecan as a treat after pulling it from your pocket. His eyes light up at the sight of one of his favorite snacks and he eagerly takes it right from your hand. Good behavior gets rewarded. You decide to be magnanimous and offer him another scrap of affection. You pet him, running a firm hand over his head and down his back. He shivers at the touch.

“Part of being a good dog is minding your manners. Do you think you’ve been doing that?”

“You’re the one who is supposed to be listening to me, you know.” He’s smug in his wrongness.

That’s enough of a signal to you that the lesson needs to proceed. You slick your fingers liberally with the lube that you pulled from the bag during the time it took him to spew more patriarchal nonsense at you. You move into position behind him, crouching slightly to get better access. He turns to look at you curiously.

“Look straight ahead,” you correct.

He grumbles and you’re sure that he rolls his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I told you to do it. A good dog listens to his owner.”

“That’s not good enough of a reason.” He’s whiny, petulant. 

You grab him by the hair and jerk his head into the position that you want. You’re thoroughly done with hearing him speak. “It’s about all the reason you gave the barbies when you decided to make Kendomland a reality.”

Ken stays silent after your rebuttal. His breathing is uneven, however, and you notice that he’s flushed. The back of his neck is all but glowing in the dim light. You decide that he’s ready. You transition your grip from his hair to his shoulder, hooking your fingers over the firm muscle. He won’t be able to go anywhere without purposely struggling. With your free hand, you nudge your way between his cheeks to circle his tight hole. He jerks at the unexpected touch and you feel him start to tremble in your hold as you slip a lubricated finger into him. You start pumping it inside of him, opening him up enough to introduce a second finger. He instinctively spreads wider for the intrusion. Perhaps he was made to be a different kind of doll.

By the time you’re scissoring your pointer and middle fingers in him to work up enough space for your ring finger, he’s a gasping, shaky mess. You cast a glance to check on his state and find him open mouthed and nearly drooling onto the faux fur coat underneath him, not even bothering to wipe his mouth. He’s trying to rock back against your hand, utterly smitten with the new sensation you’ve introduced him to. Abruptly, you withdraw your fingers. He whines, almost doglike, at the sudden emptiness. 

“Good Ken, good.” He squirms at the praise. “You know that good boys get gifts and I have one to give you right now.”

You produce the butt plug you’ve brought with you and press it against his entrance. It slips in with no resistance, you had fucked him right open with your fingers. He makes a wounded noise and clenches around the new introduction. 

“Oh Mattel! Oh Mattel !” He gasps, his arms are struggling to support him. He’s nearly face down on his coat while he fights to collect himself. 

“Mattel can’t help you here.”

He tries to grab for his achingly hard erection. It has been left completely neglected during this entire lesson so far and it must have him at a breaking point. He can’t be allowed to give himself any relief, however. It would spoil the lesson. You slap him across the ass, avoiding the bow-adorned strap that crosses over the pliant flesh. 

“That hurt,” he whines, the imprint of your hand blooming across his skin.

“Your actions hurt everyone in Barbieland,” you remind him.

“I was just trying to set things right,” he protests. His argument isn’t all that compelling given that he’s on his hands and knees with his asshole firmly plugged.

Letting out a sigh, you move to fully restrain him by putting the leather cuffs you had set aside earlier around his wrists. If he is going to try to touch himself without explicit permission, he needs to be bound. You guide his arms into place behind his back and clip them into place onto his harness. He’s fully restrained and completely at the mercy of whatever you decide to allow him.

Ken is trembling a little on spread knees. His body is curved into an uncomfortable arc while he sits back on his haunches. He’s a marble sculpture come to life, blinking and breathing, on the floor of his unfairly acquired residence. You know the unyielding butt plug must be digging into him in a way that feels pleasurable because his cock is standing at attention, glittery precum beading at the tip of his slit and shining like a diamond in the moonlight. 

You leave him there, vulnerable and pent up, while you go to slip your own harness on. Unlike Ken’s, it’s not meant to restrict movement. You make the final adjustments to the straps and secure the dildo that you will be using for tonight’s session. It’s made of a crystal clear silicone, gradiented from purple to pink. His lips will look pretty wrapped around it. 

Crossing the scant few feet between you and the waiting figure, you come to a stop in front of him. His gaze narrows in on the silicone cock sitting proudly against your clothed pelvis. It’s an easy thing to coax his mouth open. You simply press your thumb to the corner of his lips and he lets his jaw relax and opens up for you. Keeping his head steady with a hand fisted in his hair, you slowly push the dildo past his lips, sliding it over his tongue. You make him stretch forward so that he finds himself struggling to not choke himself on the silicone. You cannot make his lesson too easy, you’d be a bad trainer.

“Suck it,” you tell him, and he does.

His lips seal around the shaft and you’re glad that you can’t feel the inexperienced scrape of his teeth against it. You use your grip on his hair to drag him up and down the length of the dildo. Eventually he gets the hang of the motion and starts enthusiastically sucking you off. Your hand loosens in those blond strands and you merely watch him, letting him take control in this submissive capacity. He has no issues taking the silicone all the way to the base. His gag reflex is nonexistent. You praise Ken with small niceties when he makes a particularly effortful attempt. He receives a ‘good boy’ and a soft scratch of his scalp when he pulls all the way off and licks at the tip while sheepishly making eye contact with you. 

Eventually, you do have to call it quits after he’s thoroughly acquainted himself with the dildo. You don’t want him too worn out before the main part of the training session gets underway. Sliding two fingers against his warm skin and the leather of the collar he’s wearing is enough to hold him in place as you slip out of his mouth. Strings of spit connect the tip of the silicone cock to his mouth. His lips are puffy and his eyes are a little glazed. He’s clearly used, maybe a little cock-drunk. He leans after the strap, nearly face planting onto the fabric underneath him in his eagerness to continue. 

“Easy, Ken. Don’t get too excited.”

“I’m not excited,” he argues, voice rough. His body betrays him. He’s not slumped so far forward that you can’t see the way his erection twitches and shines with sparkling precum. He’s so wet and you haven’t even touched him. 

“Of course not. Down.” 

“Why? Haven’t I had enough?”

“Because your lesson isn’t over,” you explain patiently. 

Ken hesitates, eyeing the coat. He lowers himself, chest first to the floor, hissing as his sensitive nipples receive the barest hint of stimulation. His face is all but rubbing into the faux fur. The position elevates his hips for easy access. You pull the butt plug from him and toss it onto the coat. It’s going to leave another wet spot. You get the dildo ready with lube. The rapidly drying saliva coating it isn’t going to provide enough slickness to penetrate him with. 

He shifts uncomfortably while he waits for you to get prepared to breach him. Much to his obvious relief, he doesn’t have to wait too long before you’re taking his hips in hand and guiding him downwards onto the thick cock. He makes a sound like you’ve stricken him when you finally bottom out, your pelvis flush against his ass. He’s so tense against you that you take some pity on him and rub your thumb in soothing circles on his hip bone. 

“Good dog. You’re taking it so well.”

The praise drags a shudder out of him but he relaxes. He can’t hide under layers of bravado and poorly understood misogyny gained from library books when he’s at your mercy like this. You set up a steady rhythm, punching noises out of him. He’s getting loud, too loud. If he doesn’t shut up he’s going to show the entirety of Barbieland how much of a slut he is. The Barbies were aware that you would be paying Ken a special visit tonight for some training, but you had neglected to inform them of what exactly that training would entail. Ken’s rehabilitation was taking a more intimate hand than they would have presumed and you would like to keep them in the dark about precisely what your method is. You needed to get him quiet. 

Struck by a realization, you abruptly pull out, leaving Ken reeling and empty. You briskly dig the gag you had brought as an emergency measure out of the bag still resting on the bed. You should have known he would be as much of a loudmouth while getting fucked as he is in day to day life. 

“Why did you stop? Are we gonna flip things around now?” He questions with a confused look on his face, sitting up slightly to watch what you’re doing. There’s no disguising the suggestive roll of his words. How he could still think he could end up on top at this point is a mystery. You have given him nothing to indicate that he would be at all dominant tonight.

He follows up his questions with another inquiry upon seeing the pink, silicone bone secured on its leather strap. “What’s that?”

“You’ll see,” you tell him, already trying to get it into position. Ken immediately sees where this is going. He doesn’t take it as easily as he’s taken everything else you’ve thrown at him tonight. He keeps his mouth tightly shut until you work a finger into the corner of it like you had earlier. He relents and allows you to slip the pink bone between his teeth and to buckle the strap around his head. Always desperate to please anyone who takes even a passing interest in him.

You trail a hand down his spine, grab his harness at the hip and guide yourself back into the tight heat of him. You resume thrusting into him like you had never left in the first place. It’s all he can do brace himself as best as he can while you fuck into him. He meets you thrust for thrust, chasing his own pleasure. You wonder if he will end up coming from this, untouched, glittery ropes splattering over his belly and over his coat. It would not surprise you.

Over the muffled and choked off gasps of the doll you’re playing with, you hear a scuffle and a sharp intake of breath. Your eyes scan the dreamhouse before you turn your searching gaze to the street below just to make direct eye contact with a horrified looking Allan. He’s staring comically wide-eyed at the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn’t been a part of President Barbie’s meeting about tonight, and must have not heard from anyone to stay clear of the dreamhouse cul-de-sac. His face screams that he has seen too much. Mattel, if only he had been able to get out of Barbieland when he had had the chance. 

He opens his mouth like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, and to your own growing horror, he raises a hand and awkwardly waves to you. You weakly think that there are some occasions when neighborly courtesies can be skipped. To your own dismay, you take one of your own hands off Ken’s hip and wave back to Allan. You both wear matching grimaces. He breaks eye contact with a dazed shake of his head and recedes off into the darkness to do whatever it is he does at night. He must not be part of the Ken huddle if he’s wandering around near the dreamhouses this late. For his part, Ken is utterly oblivious during the exchange, too busy getting lost in forcing himself back onto your strap. 

With a smothered shout, he finally cums, proving you right about falling over the brink completely untouched. He soaks the faux fur below him with an obscene amount of glittery semen. He shudders and clenches around the strap still seated in him. You fuck him through the aftershocks, wringing him dry. You think you can hear him sobbing around the gag from his face down position on the floor.

You slip free of his ass for the final time this evening and take off the strap-on harness in order to toss it onto the floor. It misses the coat. He doesn’t look at you when you kneel down at his side. 

“Ken,” you say, voice soft. He jerks in acknowledgement but doesn’t turn. You reach over and undo the clips for the wrist restraints. He makes no effort to keep his arms from falling to his sides, leaden. You unbuckle the gag, working carefully to avoid snagging his hair in the process. Slipping a hand under his jaw to force his face off the coat, you pull the silicone bone from between his teeth. You tip his head towards you, but he refuses to make eye contact. His face is flushed and wet with tears and saliva. Despite yourself, you feel a small pang of sympathy at his state. It was deserved after the stunt he pulled, but he looks so fucked out and spent.

“Look at me.”

He does, obedient despite everything he’s been through. His blue eyes are teary and red-rimmed. His throat moves like he’s trying to speak but nothing comes out. Poor dog.

You grab hold of his arm, encouraging him to his feet. He stands unsteadily, almost swaying on his feet. While you undo his restraint system, you can’t help but notice that his coat is matted in wet patches. It won’t be coming clean, not with the glitter matting the fur. It’s just as well though, it was a symbol of Ken’s insecurities. You steer him the short distance to the bed after the pink straps of the harness fall at his feet. He sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress. You join him, getting comfortable before you guide him onto his side to let him rest his head on your lap. Remembering Ken’s earlier treat, you pull some pecans out of your pants pocket and offer them to him. He eats them right out of your hand. 

“What did you learn?” You question, petting him while he chews.

“I think I like being a good dog. Will… will you visit again?” His voice falters, meek. He’s back to being the more docile version of himself that he was before the ill-fated trip to the real world, however, now he has enough experience to be more aware of his actions and the actions of others. 

You continue petting him. “I suppose I could come by to pay my dog a visit if he keeps being a good boy.”

[wishitweresummer]

Unstoppable

Word count: 1997

George laughed softly at his two favorite idiots, that bittersweet feeling washing over him again. An ocean away…but not for long…right?

“Dream, shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!”, Sapnap got louder and louder as he tried to drown Dream out to no avail.

“-and he cried! I made him call me daddy, George!”, he wheezed. It sounded like he was shaking his head. “And he did!!”.

“Dream!!! I’m going to come over there and kick your ass!!!”

“If you come over here I’m going to tickle you again.”, Dream recovered quickly from his laughing fit to purr the threat into his mic.

“SHUT UP!!!”.

George put his chin in his hand and balanced it on the desk, grinning at Sapnap’s red face. At the sound of Dream starting up again, he slid his eyes over to the black screen and familiar icon in the middle.

Dream and Sapnap had lived together for a few weeks now. As soon as George got his visa he could join the fun.

‘Soon.’, he thought.

“I can’t wait for you to get here George. You can help me take him down.”.

“Soon!”, he chirped. It really was more sweet than bitter. Sapnap huffed like a child and crossed his arms, sinking back into his gaming chair. George knew any other time he would see Sapnap fling insults or even run out of the room to go confront Dream in person. But now, he stayed put with the threat of tickles. “I’m actually not ticklish, so I’d be pretty useful as an ally.”.

“No way!”.

“No shot!”. The exclamations were yelled in sync, making George laugh.

And with that, one more thing added to the list of things they needed to do as soon as George got to Florida.

-Dream face reveal

-Disney

-Pick out another furry friend for Patches together

-Sapnap’s first legal drink

-Tickle fight

~•~

The next time tickling is brought up, it’s weeks later and just George and Sapnap in their comfy vc.

“He’s really ticklish. If I could just get him pinned he would be fucked, dude.”, Sapnap said to his bedroom ceiling.

“Is he really that big?”, George asked quietly. Sapnap scoffed, shaking his head in amusement at the strange question.

“Well yeah, but you’ve seen like, his body. Bro’s six two.”.

“Shortnap.”, he quipped quickly, giggling.

“Laugh it up George. I actually workout! What do you think is going to happen to you?”.

“Oh, well I’m not ticklish.”.

“Everybody is ticklish.”.

“No, not everybody. It just doesn’t do anything to me.”.

Sapnap grinned. Somehow, George knows.

Sapnap thought back to the last time he heard George lose his shit. That insane cackling in person was deafening.

“I wish I had tickled you when I visited you in England.”.

“I’m not ticklish! Really!”.

~•~

Sapnap’s scream clipped the mic and George squirmed in his chair a little, wishing Dream would turn on his camera.

They had all been watching a new horror movie together when George had gotten a message.

Sap: I’m gonna scare the glizz out of Dream

And scare he had. Dream had been so enthralled in the movie he hadn’t noticed Sapnap slip out of frame. After a minute;

Startled yelp. Sapnap’s mean laughter. A scuffle. A chair crashing to the floor. Begging. A squeal. Raspy laughter. Pleads for mercy. Screaming when they were ignored. Dream’s cocky teases. Hysterical laughter. Apologies. More laughter.

Man…George wished he was there actually. He could help Dream punish Sapnap. Or help Sapnap put Dream in his place. The horror movie faded out of his interest entirely as he listened to his two best friends laugh. Dream’s familiar cry rang out. Maybe Sapnap had got some ground in the fight? He grinned and stared at the little Dream icon as the faceless man’s laughter boomed. He tried his best to picture in his head what was happening, but the image of Dream kept blurring into nothingness.

George jumped at another one of Sapnap’s piercing screams.

“George, help!!!”, he wailed. His laughter had a helpless edge to it and George wondered if Dream had gotten him pinned.

“I’ll be able to soon!”. But, they couldn’t hear him when he was so far away. “Soon.”.

~•~

The amount of tickling in the Dream House seemed to ramp up, to George’s ambivalence. He found himself hyperfocusing on it a bit. The other two were easy to egg on. Sapnap had a competitive streak and the fact that he hadn’t gotten the best of Dream in a tickle fight yet seemed to bug him.

“Who’s more ticklish?”, he asked one day over a game of Bedwars.

“Dream.”.

“Sapnap.”, they answered at the same time. George laughed.

~•~

Eventually, the future came hurtling in. A visa was granted. Suitcases were packed. A mask was removed.

And George came home.

~•~

It was a whirlwind of excitement; that first day. Dream and George were having a bit of trouble separating, too excited to be in person.

Dream giggled, standing in the doorway. He had been trying to leave for ten minutes, but just kept hovering and egging on the conversation. George was trying to scowl at him from the floor, but failing. The giddy energy of finally being with his best friends was crawling across his skin. He had to hold himself back from jumping up to touch Dream’s face. It was so real. He stood tall in the doorway, nearly touching the top with his curls.

George forced himself to look back down at the clothes he was sorting through. His suitcases were all open and stuff was strewn around the room. He thought back to when he had moved into his first apartment alone. The feelings mixed into the memories were different. He had been happy, for sure. But not like this. This wasn’t moving out, this was more like coming home. He knew it was cliche and sappy…but it was true.

Dream almost made it out of the room, but Sapnap appeared and wedged his own body into the doorframe so he could smoosh up to Dream. They both giggled as they shoved each other painfully against the wood. George desperately fought to not stare at them with all the fondness in the world.

“Gogy.”, Sapnap coo’ed, popping through the door to stumble towards George and fall to his knees next to him. George giggled.

“Sappy.”, he reached out and pushed gently against the younger’s shoulder. He had been struggling all day to keep his hands to himself now that his best friends were in reaching distance.

Dream took Sapnap’s entrance as his go ahead to join George on the floor again. Both had stated they were going to leave him alone to sort through his bags and start unpacking. George was glad they were failing to leave. He kind of hoped he was never alone again.

“Go away!”, he laughed and shoved at both of them.

~•~

George couldn’t help the giggles spilling from his lips as Dream cornered him in the living room. He knew he wasn’t ticklish, but Dream’s size and confidence was lighting his nerves on fire.

“Get him, Dream!”, Sapnap called from the couch.

“You said we would team up against him!”, George squeaked out. He gasped as his back found the wall.

Dream’s large hands were suddenly on his waist and he shrieked as he was twisted down to the ground.

“Dream!”, he cried, flustered.

He jumped a little as Dream went to work squeezing up his sides and shaking his fingertips into his rib cage. George slowly calmed down, just observing so he would know exactly what the other thought would tickle him.

“No shot. You have to be ticklish somewhere!”, Dream shook his head in disbelief and poked quickly into George’s stomach.

“Holy shit.”, Sapnap muttered, hanging over the back of the couch to watch him.

“Damn…okay…here?”, Dream asked as he reached back and grabbed George’s thigh. He squeezed at the muscle above his knee. George only lifted himself up on his elbows and gave Dream a little smile.

“Sorry.”, he shrugged. “Alright, my turn now.”, he said quickly and grabbed Dream’s sides before he could react. The boy squawked and almost completely collapsed against him.

George used the element of surprise and shoved himself up into Dream’s body. With a little force, he was able to flip their positions so he was on top. Sapnap cheered.

He attacked Dream’s ribcage like he had tried only a minute earlier; pressing all of his fingertips in lightly and shaking them roughly against the bones. Dream screamed. George and Sapnap both laughed as Dream turned into a squirming mess.

“What the fuck?!”, he cried. His hands shoved roughly against George’s chest, but George invaded his space again quickly and poked rapid fire into his stomach like he had done earlier. Dream’s entire body convulsed suddenly and he squealed. “Okay!!”.

“You’re so ticklish!”, George grinned. He reached back and latched onto Dream’s thigh. The boy bucked violently and shrieked with laughter. George laughed and he struggled to stay on. “Holy shit!”.

“You’re meme’ing him.”, Sapnap giggled.

“Fuck you!!”, Dream squeaked.

Sapnap grinned as he watched Dream completely fall to pieces under the smaller boy. It was so gratifying after being tickled to death by him a million times since they moved in together. Everytime Dream got a hold of George’s hand or started to shove him off, he squealed with helpless laughter and crumbled back to the floor from a new ticklish attack.

Just as Sapnap was starting to think it was the best day ever, George stood and set his sights on him.

“Oh shit.”, he muttered before scrambling to his feet. Dream was nothing but a giggly puddle as George left him to dart after Sapnap.

Before he could reach the door, a weight hit his back and sent both boys tumbling painfully across the floor. They both giggled hysterically as they wrestled. Sapnap’s giggles pitched up in panic as he blocked George’s playful fingers again and again.

“Get away, you psycho!”, he squeaked. A sneaky hand was shoved into his armpit and he crumbled. He gasped out harshly before bursting into laughter. The touch was mean right away. It made sense, knowing George’s merciless nature. It just sucked being the victim of it.

“Squeaky.”, George smirked and dropped both his hands down to Sapnap’s sides. His face burned as helpless laughter bubbled out of him against his will.

Sapnap cursed himself for not running earlier. George had just taken down Dream! There was no escaping the onslaught of tickles. He screamed in protest as devious hands shoved up into his shirt and grabbed at his bare sides.

“Okay, please!”, he pleaded, throwing his ego out the window to maybe get George to stop.

“Are you begging me right now, Stinknap?”.

“Yes! Yes, please! No more!”, he cried through his laughter. His torso was jumping and shaking at the electric touch directly into his muscles. He tugged at George’s arms and slipped into hysterical laughter. He kicked against the floor helplessly. He was so screwed. George was grinning like a demon as he dug his fingers expertly into his sides. Sapnap squealed. “Please!”.

Suddenly, George was lifted off of him. George yelped and burst into giggles as Dream held him up.

“Lemme at ‘im!”, he yelled as he kicked in the air and made grabby hands at Sapnap. They all laughed at the absolutely ridiculous situation.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this.”, Sapnap rubbed at his red face and tried to shake off his giggles. His body still buzzed from George’s rough touch.

“I told you guys I wasn’t ticklish!”, George laughed as he was placed back down on his feet.

~•~

George actually not being ticklish was just one of the many new things they learned about each other by living together. It was never a dull moment in the house and George thought he might never be bored again.

[alittledizzy]

Im gonna be honest

Their crings vocal ticks ARE what made me love them so much, especially when we can see that one of them found a new tick and slowly the other 2 start using it too! And i especially love it when fic writers dont shy away from the cringe parts that the boys have because that is what differentiates a DNF or Dteam focused fic from just any normal fic to me

Like if i Wanted to read about a blond american and a british english guy i might as well read original works tbh! But the dialogue is really what makes them special to me!

Im BEGGING more fic writers to adapt dteams actual voice when writing fics LET THEM SAY RIZZ/L/CRINGE PLEASE 😭😭

They are men in their 20s who made their money on YouTube and twitch LET THEM BE CRINGE PLEASE

I'm just slow clapping this ask, anon. You're absolutely correct. Sometimes it is hard to make myself write the really cringe things but it IS what sets them apart. It's character voice. Sometimes trying to capture it means you have to just sigh and force yourself to write out the word glizz in a deeply explicit sex scene.