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Apr. 10th, 2025 12:13 am
rebelsamurai: (Default)
[personal profile] rebelsamurai


Memes/Psls/Random

🤝 I also hate captcha

Date: 2026-01-27 02:58 am (UTC)
seamurai: (b151 😶‍🌫️ I see my friends)
From: [personal profile] seamurai

Nah. [ Kerry tilts his head back as Johnny wraps his hand round his throat. Voice raspy when he says: ] Not mine. Never mine.

[ Would’ve been a disaster, in truth: both then and now. Kerry never thought he could wrangle Johnny. He just wished he were the sort of man who could; was in love with a future that painfully, agonizingly, did not exist.

As Johnny so thoughtfully proved to him by leaving that night. By dying. By haunting him for half a century before coming back and, despite him being on top of Kerry right now, the damn guy feels as emotionally distant as ever. Just as unreachable. Like sand slipping through his fingers. ]

Not that stupid, Johnny.

[ Snapping his name through clenched teeth. Raking his nails harder against Johnny, hoping whoever he fucks next will see. Maybe they won’t care. Maybe Johnny won’t even remember.

But Kerry will. Because he’s always the one who gets left behind. ]

But I’ll mark ya, sure. Make you think of me after.

[ Despite Johnny’s grip on his neck, Kerry tries to kiss him again: even just a brushing of lips. Desperate for that mouth.

Nothing’s changed in that regard. ]

And I love Johnny~

Date: 2026-01-29 01:14 am (UTC)
seamurai: (b094 🍸 when you’re hurt and you’re sour)
From: [personal profile] seamurai

[ There’s a finesse to the sort of choking Kerry likes: not too little, not too much. He prefers something closer to the latter, depending on his mood — and right now, with Johnny, he’s craving that pain. Wants to vent a half-century’s worth of frustration via sex. Biting and scratching and fucking and no, Johnny. Never-fuckin’-ever mine.

So as his throat gets squeezed real tight, Kerry can’t help but think: Finally. Eyes closed; hands doing one last drag across Johnny’s back till his arms fall to the bed. Just letting Johnny give him that finally — letting his mind blank, feeling almost weightless beneath that hand.

It’s the kiss that snaps Kerry out of it; maybe even more-so the hands on his face. Johnny could just fuck himself on his dick and be done with it, but he’s not. Why? Kerry can’t wrap himself around the why.

He falls under that spell, though. Tilting his head to meet Johnny’s lips every which way; desperate, really. Always been desperate to be wanted by Johnny. Kerry could kiss him for hours: facial hair scraping his skin. Lips and soft tongues and a hint of something human.

Once he can finally manage to slightly pull back, Kerry asks under his breath: ]

What’re you doin’, Johnny? The hell are you doing?

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