#the intership | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ken-dom · 3 months

Text

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.

#not s f w 💀#ken x driver #ryan gosling #barbie 2023 #drive 2011 #ken fic #driver fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken smut #driver smut #glizz #rg intershipping #ken-dom writes

49 notes · View notes

mueritos · 8 months

Note

I find it funny you post things about the wrong people becoming therapists yet you want to be a social worker and actively defend rapists and abusers 💀

CW: mentions of SA/cycles of abuse.

you must think you're really clever. the therapy industry has a huge amount of problems (like any other industry built on service to other humans, like the medical industry), and i think even the people who want to work within the therapy field (whether as a psychiatrist, a counselor, a therapist, a social worker, a sex therapist, etc) can still critique the many issues within it, mainly the racism, eurocentrinism, and the individualistic values that much of talk therapy promotes. I don't know where you got the second part of your statement, because not only is it widely inaccurate of what I was thinking of doing in social work, it also is just not a great idea to hold about people who work with people who do harm.

there are therapists/social workers who work exclusively with cops/law enforcement, and ethically those people CANNOT work with people who are victims of law enforcement or people who "break the law" (incarcerated folks). It just doesn't work, because if you work with both, it can create a conflict of interest. this is the same with people who work with victims of assault (SA or not). these therapists/etc who work with victims of assault/abuse CANNOT work with abusers. The same is vice versa, as in people who work with those who do serious harm cannot work with their victims.

I think your self righteousness is misplaced. You clearly have a lot of work to do in regards to removing your own feelings and judgement from the work that many therapists and social workers do. I don't know if you know this, but everyone (yes, even people who do serious harm) are deserving of basic human necessities, like oh i don't know. Housing, healthcare, or therapy. It is not my job as a future social worker to judge people, that is wickedly different from holding someone accountable. Judging is like sending someone to prison for 25 years, further removing them from the communities and resources that could generate accountability. Further, no one can hold anyone accountable unless said person consents to being held accountable. There are different procedures for whether they do or not. My job, as a future social worker, is to help people, because I believe all people deserve to ask for help and receive the help that they need.

Not sure if you know, but I'm against incarceration/punishment. I believe we hold punishment as the way to "teach people a lesson", but if you do not work with people and actively step in and disrupt cycles of trauma (housing crisis, hunger, substance abuse, interpersonal abuse, racism, ableism, etc), you will only find that people re-offend unless they are given the resources they need to be better. Yes, there are people who genuinely want to do harm, but harm does not exist in a vacuum, and if you are unwilling to acknowledge that, then I genuinely wish compassion to anyone who slips up around you and shows you that anyone is capable of any level of harm.

People who do serious harm are victims of the same cycle abuse as everyone else. You white knuckling your self righteous black and white morality is the reason why you cannot understand that even the worst kinds of people deserve the same access to care as victims of harm. You think that people who work with individuals who do harm as them defending them, when the reality is many of us with the brains built to do this kind of work want to stop this harm and correct abusive behavior. Unfortunately for you, people are capable of change. No one is asking you to like anyone or their actions (because I don't have to like the people I work with either, freak), but what people like me are asking you is to accept the fact that all people do harm, and when people are given the community and resources to, they can change for the better and recognize the serious harm they have caused.

Not everyone who goes into this work wants to aim their energy into the "socially acceptable" work. I think social justice morality and the sanitization of revolutionary politics has rotted our brains into believing that we must do and be the most "woke" person ever, channeling our energy into victims of harm. But what we fail to recognize through that is that some people would rather divest their energy into de-radicalization of fascists, or others want to put their energy into theory, others want to learn how to connect with the land and be sustainable, and others want to learn how to help others. And just like them, there are people who are willing enough to use their skills and compassion for conflict/resolution, accountability practices, and to help those who have harmed. Because, unfortunate for you, activists should NOT be juggling being the theorist, farmer, therapist, spiritualist, leader, mediator, protestor, rioter, etc and etc. Some people are simply built to put their energy into what they are good at. This doesn't mean that the farmer does not encourage the theorist to continue thinking and writing their theory. And I am sure the theorist, one who cannot farm and till, is grateful for the skills the farmer brings once dinner comes around.

it's funny really because I still am not sure about what I want my focus to be in social work, and for you to assume that I am "defending" abusers/rapists by thinking about working in extremely hostile, tense, and exhausting environments in the attempt to disrupt cycles of violence is me "defending" these individuals...it just reveals more about you than myself, anon. Many people already work with abusers/rapists (many of those therapists being victims of abuse/SA as well), so you may as well call the ones who are actually doing the work rn "defenders" of abuse. see how that bodes for you.

that's all I have to say.

#muertoresponds #hope that helped for anyone else to understand #for further context im an anarchist who is also an existentialist #and those two codes of living have greatly affected the way i think and interact with the world #if anyone else has any questions feel free to ask them #someone somewhere has to do the dirty work #you dont have to like it or like the people who do it #but there are spaces and communities where these people are needed and necessary to disrupt cycles of abuse #words r important as well so take my usage of the word harm as a general term for all systems and cycles of harm #but harm may not be abuse #as in that it is cyclical and intentional and pre-meditated cycles of abuse #like man i havent even started doing social work training or education yet and youre already on my ass #anyway if anyones interested my MSW intership is with immigrant children and families so no i am currently not working in restorative justi #but who knows i could be one day idk #anyway #thats all

82 notes · View notes