Watchmen (Super Sentai) Five Kink Meme
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously(or not, because we seem to have stopped following this rule) post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such ( Read more... )
Upon further inspection, he sees that the main switch in his breaker box has been flipped. Skeptical, Dan flips it on, and he can hear the electric hum of power returning to his home. He crosses the room and tries the basement light-florescent light floods the basement. All right, well, that’s one problem solved. Dan heads upstairs and tests each room of the house, just to make sure everything is actually back up and running. Everything’s fine.
Slowly, he turns off all the lights one-by-one until he is alone in his dark living room. His goggles are still safely in his pocket.
The goggles. Without them, he might be dead. Rorschach didn’t expect them. Didn’t expect Dan to succeed. Dan carefully fixes the goggles to his eyes, and turns them on, bringing his living room into a military focus. The familiar furniture and decorations all sit quietly in their places, unthreatening, content with where they’ve been for all these years. It’s just another mark against who he used to be, proof that his life has been wasted, never reaching his full potential. His greatest plans gather dust downstairs.
Dan touches the bandages, letting the pain spark across his skull, feeling the skeleton underneath, the muscles and sensitive nerves and the pounding blood, the animal parts of him which have so far brought him nothing but shame and discouraged him. This pain speaks of something else. The pain is not a product of a mistake. He shuts his eyes, and he’s back in the alleyway, the awful stench of Rorschach’s body and the rotted meat and the unmistakable scent of Dan’s aftershave among all of it, the smell changed on Rorschach’s skin.
Dan presses his fingers tightly against his cheek, and moves to unbutton his pants. Opening his eyes, he looks around at his couch, his sturdy television, the mezuzah at his door. The tips of his fingers can still feel the soft skin under Rorschach’s mask.
He lies face-down on the couch and thumbs his underwear down, freeing his cock, which is half-erect despite being untouched, maybe hasn’t stopped being erect since he dug his hips into Rorschach’s back. He knows, as he shifts to press into the cushions, that this is probably the most fucked-up thing he’s ever done, knows also that ever since the riots died down and he decided to hunt Rorschach that he’s wanted to do this, wanted to touch himself while thinking about Rorschach, sometimes slipped up and imagined Rorschach’s impassive mask looming over him.
With a soft moan Dan grips the couch and starts to rut into it, glad for the rough fabric of the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut, is alone with Rorschach again, in pain and more turned on than he’s been in years, smelling himself on Rorschach, lowering his nose into the nape of Rorschach’s neck to breathe it in. The woman does not scream. His erection digs into Rorschach’s back, and he starts to grind slowly into him as Rorschach groans out his name, desperate: “Listen to me, Dreiberg.” But he is not in a position where he can command any more of Dan, cannot dictate what Dan does, now, because spoils to the victor and Dan is rutting into Rorschach’s back hard and fast, is pinning him down by the back of the neck.
Reply
Leave a comment