Fanfic - CWRPS: The Best Fucking Day! (NC-17, Queer/Slash: Jared/Jensen)
Title: The Best Fucking Day!
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: The CW/WB
Characters: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Prompt: Written for BadFic Idol at Wincon 2013: Las Vegas. VOTED #1 BADFIC!
Word Count: ~1,000 words.
Rating: NC-17 for sexuality and language.
Warnings/Spoilers: BADFIC! (WARNING FOR AWFUL ADJECTIVES, ADVERBS, & EVERYTHING ELSE!) Crack! Humor! Genderbending/genderfuckery. Crossdressing/drag. Trans* and genderqueer themes. Hustler!kink. Kink/BDSM. Bondage. Gonzo. Clichés. Established relationship. Graphic m/drag queen sex. Smut. Minor bodily injury (accidental). PWP. Slash? (I'm inventing a "Queer" category.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing. Also? Please do not use this as a kink or drag instruction manual!
Summary: Jared and Jensenia make a hot mess together with their swampy and meaty bits.
Soundtrack: "Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous" [press "play" on the first version] by RuPaul (lyrics; video remix that's better than the actual video).
Author's Notes: It is as it's supposed to be. I extend no apologies whatsoever. ;-) // For more info about my real fanfic, including links to all works, please go here. [Will eventually be uploaded to/revised for AO3.] // Interested in reading original fiction by awesome fanfic + fandom-friendly writers? Fic Street is on the way!
"Yeah! Fuck me like the price tags at Nieman Marcus!" Jensenia screeched as she gripped her Jarebear's turgid beefstick, clutching it against her swampy cunticle. "I need it like my Jimmy Choo-choos." Which she was wearing. Her spicy cinnamon tomato fire engine hooker vamp blood red stilettos. It didn't matter that she couldn't actually walk in them. What mattered was how they looked held up beside her Jaredaddy's wavy chocolate mane as his bulbous muscle-topped muscley bits flexed while he fucked her.
"Imma drill this awl well like erry udder one that coss me happ a mill." Jared's slurry drunken drawl sent every lightning eddy of anticipated fucking marvelousness from the backs of her thick thighs up her buttcunt and into her delicate ten-inch clit package. And when he reached up and tipped his khaki cowboy hat down to her, adding a sliver of shadow to his mirrored cop shades in the bright afternoon sun blazing through the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall gold-and-diamond encrusted windows of Jared's thousand-square-foot luscious bordello bedroom? Jensenia screamed like a golden curled toddler being mauled by mutant alien bears. Yes, she did. Just like that. Instantly hard and just as instantly dripping viscous lust-water in her tight little anal cunny.
"Please, Daddy! Yes, I need all of your medium-rare All-American Grade A giant bologna stick in me right the fuck now!!!!!" And she threw in "Eleventy!" at the end, just so he would know that she was really fucking serious.
Jared's stadium-sized mansion seemed to shake on its four story titanium stilts as he plunged into her with no more warning than a profoundly meaningful and complex almost four-part harmony-like grunt.
"What the fuck was that shit, you fucker?" After she was done screaming through the ache of his asspussy invasion, she smacked his arm hard. "What happened to the 1 finger, 2 fingers, 3 fingers, cock rule, huh? How the fuck am I supposed to prepare for your arm-sized salami rocket if you don't count me up with your six inch magical fingers first?!"
"You can take it." Jared guffawed before pinning Jensenia's arm to the headboard, tying it expertly there with only a few fingers and the sleeve of the denim shirt he'd thrown there when they were stripping off for their regular post-picnic afternoon fuckdiddling session. "Don't purse that lil red lipsticked mouth at me, beauty queen. Ah could shove mah hand in there raht now and you'd juss beg me fuh mo'."
Jensenia batted coy lashes up at her Jarebunnypimp, starting to stroke his cock with her special love tube scholastics. She'd been val-a-dick-deep-in-her-ass-torian after all. It was how she'd won that sash and her first nude pair of six inch platform heels. And it was why Jared had whored her around the greater Dallas area for loose benjamins and loose change, depending on the day. She was like the fucking Mission It's Possible of the Texas fucknugget world. If you wanted dick or asspussy, pretty or strong, she could bring it. In fact, it had already been broughten. So there.
"Aw hell, pussyface. You tryin' ta get me ta break mah toys?" Jared began to slam into her, both of them ignoring the popping sound her shoulder made as it dislocated on account of the odd angle at which her arm had been tied to the bed. Shit happened. It was just a risk of rough sex.
Through the Niagra waterfall of salty wet tear-like substances on her face, she sniffled their mix of citrus-rose and clove-bourbon-man-musk scented sex stench and gasped, mouth gaping fish-like as she fought to focus on the punishing baseball bat-shaped peen-steak he was plunging into her again and again as if her body was just supposed to swallow its own effluvium since her buttcunt didn't have a gag reflex. She was already practically split in two and probably wouldn't be able to stand, sit, walk, or lay on her back for anything more than three and a half seconds for the rest of the day, but that was fine. Jared's ginormous meatcicle was always worth it, forever and ever amen.
"I just want to forget my name, you sickeningly gorgeous buff brilliant billionaire with a fetish for fishy drag queens you can sell for $500 bucks an hour, you!" It wasn't hard. All he had to do was push her button. The one on the top of her clit-monster. He'd played enough video games to know how to clutch the joy stick and thumb the top repeatedly until he'd shot down all the enemy planes. So he did that.
"Re-errr. Reee. Re-errr. Errr. Errr. Reee!" He let his hips take over the arhythmic rhythm like a stop-starting stutter-fluttering human-alien hybrid heart - or maybe two - and tilted her clit-snake this way and that, watching her eyes with his own hidden but likely wild-looking ones. He was making zoom-zoom gamer noises, as if he was avoiding obstacles as he mercilessly squeezed her controller and pressed her blushing pee hole in a shade of dusty salmon until it erupted in a gooey glorious mess of come that smelled like a chai vanilla latte with whip cream and a dash of extra nutmeg. Jared then smeared it up her badass body and stuff some of the creamy muck in her dollfaced pucker, making her slurp it up while he finished fucking her.
When he finally came, she grinned and cried out with joy, laughing suddenly, as if she'd won the lottery and the British Crown by way of his sperm-based super-soaker. "We're having twins!" She shouted like a Cowboys cheerleader on chocolate-covered crack cocaine. "I can tell already!"
Jared smirked and dove down to conquer her mouth, smearing her make-up as he burped and passed out in her wig.
Hours later, when they both woke up, Jensenia wrote in her diary in her very best cursive with a glittery red pen: "THE BEST FUCKING DAY OF MY DRAG WHORE TROPHY WIFE LIFE!"
THE END
Massachusetts Dating
Author: eboniorchid
Fandom: The CW/WB
Characters: Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles
Prompt: Written for BadFic Idol at Wincon 2013: Las Vegas. VOTED #1 BADFIC!
Word Count: ~1,000 words.
Rating: NC-17 for sexuality and language.
Warnings/Spoilers: BADFIC! (WARNING FOR AWFUL ADJECTIVES, ADVERBS, & EVERYTHING ELSE!) Crack! Humor! Genderbending/genderfuckery. Crossdressing/drag. Trans* and genderqueer themes. Hustler!kink. Kink/BDSM. Bondage. Gonzo. Clichés. Established relationship. Graphic m/drag queen sex. Smut. Minor bodily injury (accidental). PWP. Slash? (I'm inventing a "Queer" category.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Really. Nothing. Also? Please do not use this as a kink or drag instruction manual!
Summary: Jared and Jensenia make a hot mess together with their swampy and meaty bits.
Soundtrack: "Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous" [press "play" on the first version] by RuPaul (lyrics; video remix that's better than the actual video).
Author's Notes: It is as it's supposed to be. I extend no apologies whatsoever. ;-) // For more info about my real fanfic, including links to all works, please go here. [Will eventually be uploaded to/revised for AO3.] // Interested in reading original fiction by awesome fanfic + fandom-friendly writers? Fic Street is on the way!
"Yeah! Fuck me like the price tags at Nieman Marcus!" Jensenia screeched as she gripped her Jarebear's turgid beefstick, clutching it against her swampy cunticle. "I need it like my Jimmy Choo-choos." Which she was wearing. Her spicy cinnamon tomato fire engine hooker vamp blood red stilettos. It didn't matter that she couldn't actually walk in them. What mattered was how they looked held up beside her Jaredaddy's wavy chocolate mane as his bulbous muscle-topped muscley bits flexed while he fucked her.
"Imma drill this awl well like erry udder one that coss me happ a mill." Jared's slurry drunken drawl sent every lightning eddy of anticipated fucking marvelousness from the backs of her thick thighs up her buttcunt and into her delicate ten-inch clit package. And when he reached up and tipped his khaki cowboy hat down to her, adding a sliver of shadow to his mirrored cop shades in the bright afternoon sun blazing through the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall gold-and-diamond encrusted windows of Jared's thousand-square-foot luscious bordello bedroom? Jensenia screamed like a golden curled toddler being mauled by mutant alien bears. Yes, she did. Just like that. Instantly hard and just as instantly dripping viscous lust-water in her tight little anal cunny.
"Please, Daddy! Yes, I need all of your medium-rare All-American Grade A giant bologna stick in me right the fuck now!!!!!" And she threw in "Eleventy!" at the end, just so he would know that she was really fucking serious.
Jared's stadium-sized mansion seemed to shake on its four story titanium stilts as he plunged into her with no more warning than a profoundly meaningful and complex almost four-part harmony-like grunt.
"What the fuck was that shit, you fucker?" After she was done screaming through the ache of his asspussy invasion, she smacked his arm hard. "What happened to the 1 finger, 2 fingers, 3 fingers, cock rule, huh? How the fuck am I supposed to prepare for your arm-sized salami rocket if you don't count me up with your six inch magical fingers first?!"
"You can take it." Jared guffawed before pinning Jensenia's arm to the headboard, tying it expertly there with only a few fingers and the sleeve of the denim shirt he'd thrown there when they were stripping off for their regular post-picnic afternoon fuckdiddling session. "Don't purse that lil red lipsticked mouth at me, beauty queen. Ah could shove mah hand in there raht now and you'd juss beg me fuh mo'."
Jensenia batted coy lashes up at her Jarebunnypimp, starting to stroke his cock with her special love tube scholastics. She'd been val-a-dick-deep-in-her-ass-torian after all. It was how she'd won that sash and her first nude pair of six inch platform heels. And it was why Jared had whored her around the greater Dallas area for loose benjamins and loose change, depending on the day. She was like the fucking Mission It's Possible of the Texas fucknugget world. If you wanted dick or asspussy, pretty or strong, she could bring it. In fact, it had already been broughten. So there.
"Aw hell, pussyface. You tryin' ta get me ta break mah toys?" Jared began to slam into her, both of them ignoring the popping sound her shoulder made as it dislocated on account of the odd angle at which her arm had been tied to the bed. Shit happened. It was just a risk of rough sex.
Through the Niagra waterfall of salty wet tear-like substances on her face, she sniffled their mix of citrus-rose and clove-bourbon-man-musk scented sex stench and gasped, mouth gaping fish-like as she fought to focus on the punishing baseball bat-shaped peen-steak he was plunging into her again and again as if her body was just supposed to swallow its own effluvium since her buttcunt didn't have a gag reflex. She was already practically split in two and probably wouldn't be able to stand, sit, walk, or lay on her back for anything more than three and a half seconds for the rest of the day, but that was fine. Jared's ginormous meatcicle was always worth it, forever and ever amen.
"I just want to forget my name, you sickeningly gorgeous buff brilliant billionaire with a fetish for fishy drag queens you can sell for $500 bucks an hour, you!" It wasn't hard. All he had to do was push her button. The one on the top of her clit-monster. He'd played enough video games to know how to clutch the joy stick and thumb the top repeatedly until he'd shot down all the enemy planes. So he did that.
"Re-errr. Reee. Re-errr. Errr. Errr. Reee!" He let his hips take over the arhythmic rhythm like a stop-starting stutter-fluttering human-alien hybrid heart - or maybe two - and tilted her clit-snake this way and that, watching her eyes with his own hidden but likely wild-looking ones. He was making zoom-zoom gamer noises, as if he was avoiding obstacles as he mercilessly squeezed her controller and pressed her blushing pee hole in a shade of dusty salmon until it erupted in a gooey glorious mess of come that smelled like a chai vanilla latte with whip cream and a dash of extra nutmeg. Jared then smeared it up her badass body and stuff some of the creamy muck in her dollfaced pucker, making her slurp it up while he finished fucking her.
When he finally came, she grinned and cried out with joy, laughing suddenly, as if she'd won the lottery and the British Crown by way of his sperm-based super-soaker. "We're having twins!" She shouted like a Cowboys cheerleader on chocolate-covered crack cocaine. "I can tell already!"
Jared smirked and dove down to conquer her mouth, smearing her make-up as he burped and passed out in her wig.
Hours later, when they both woke up, Jensenia wrote in her diary in her very best cursive with a glittery red pen: "THE BEST FUCKING DAY OF MY DRAG WHORE TROPHY WIFE LIFE!"
THE END
Massachusetts Dating