Disclaimer; I do not own Homestuck! If you want the real Homestuck instead of my silly ramblings, go to mspaintadventures! (Actually, go there anyway.)
John was bored, three years was a long time to spend with no one but your sister and dead grandma. If he really thought about it, technically, Jade was dead too, and he himself had died at one point. Jeez, awful lot of dying going on in Sburb. He had watched a lot of movies, all the movies, actually, all of them many times. Jade was no longer good company, he was still mad at Dave Sprite, and Nanna was an old lady and more than that, an old lady that had been combined with a stupid jester doll. Nanna was nice to talk to and all, but she was still just his grandma.
John would lie back in bed, on the couch, outside, be it on the lawn or out on the deck of their great vessel and think about the grand adventures that had been had in the game. It made him mad that he couldn't go back to those great times except through the ocassional stupid dream bubble. Those weren't adventures anymore, just used up, twisted and warped memories of a better time, who cared if that had all been in mortal peril? At least it had been kind of exhilerating.
He thought of Vriska a lot. Vriska would have been one hell of a companion in those adventure-packed days! He could tell just from their textual conversations that that girl was just chock full of fiery spunk. He was jealous of whoever was getting the chance to have a real sit down with her. He wondered a lot if she even remembered most of what they had said. Were the conversations equally important to her? He doubted it. She was way too cool for that...
On this particular ocassion, John was lying on his bed, the gentle feeling of being propeled billions of miles every minute was lulling him slowly. It had been especially hard to keep Vriska off of his mind today. He fell into the inky depths of sleep swiftly, relieved to have something to temporarily quell his boredom.
John stretched and woke up, he wasn't in his bed anymore, he was in a dark room, lying on the floor. The only light in the room had no source, but was centered around him. A sound made him look up and there was a figure half hidden in shadow before him, a female figure. As she stepped forward he had a recollection.
"Vriska?" He tried to bite back his excitement, it couldn't possibly be Vriska.
She smirked, her painted blue lips parted to expose her sharp little teeth. Something about those pointy pearls stirred something inside of him.
"Vriska, what are you doing here?"
She lifted up one hand and he noticed she was holding the handle of something. A basket? A bucket? It was a bucket, a plain, unobtrusive, black bucket.
"Vriska! What are you doing with that? I thought cleaning products were all secret and dirty to you or something..."
She took another step forward and he could see how she was dressed, a short, black, spaghetti strap dress, high black-and-white striped stockings and some medium heeled maryjanes. She slipped off the shoes as she stepped closer.
"Vriska, what are you doing?"
For some reason, her slow deliberate actions were unbelievably sexy to him, and it was starting to show. She slipped down to sit on his lap, he was still reclined and his blush deepened as he realized she was sitting right on top of his increasingly harder by the second dick. She set the bucket on his chest.
"Vriska, what are you doing with that bucket?" He kept saying her name over and over, the way it begged to be growled out was intoxicating. His voice was getting huskier every time he spoke. She pushed the bucket, letting it dig deep into his chest. The harder she pushed, the less stable everything around them felt.
"Oh, shut up, Egbert." Her voice faded away as the bottom bit sharply into his skin.
"And fill the fucking pail."