Are You Happy Now?- Coluber

Welcome thot, your guilty pleasure awaits

Morty was a bit of a maniac- and not one of those happy-go-lucky, weird kind. It wasn't like he would maim you or anything, partly due to his cowardliness but mostly because he wasn't about that. No, this kid was more of a "Oh, I've been making dick jokes since first grade- am I cool now?" kind of guy that evolved into the worse "Oh, cool. dick!" However, today he really crossed the line when he pushed a spiteful kid to write Marshmello smut.

Morty arrived home with a special paper in his  pocket detailing where he could get the "good" stuff that the kid wrote.  He quickly ran into his room and shut the door the minute he stepped into his house,  quivering with excitement. 

Once he had locked the door, he immediately searched up the fic. As soon as the dastard cult popped up,he knew he was in the right place.  He clicked on the link and saw it come up, but his face feel as soon as he began reading- God, this is some meta shit- the text. It detailed every odd behavior he had like his Thanos fetish. Please. Please stop. Don't do that. Just stop it and get some milk. wait- no- you'll probably fuck that up to. sweet Jesus. Just have a cup of water and sit in the corner. Don't make me cry.

Morty stood there, horrified that he was caught up into some paradoxical bullshit. What if he was the Morty in this fic and another one of him was reading his reactions? How can we be truly sure?

These questions burned Morty's inner head. It ripped, tore- it clawed and chewed at every thought. He couldn't breathe. The thought clogged up every notion to speak, to take in air, to blink- to process. All he knew at the moment- all he could focus on with his blurry, uneasy vision was the twisting and knotting of his internal organ, gasping in the pain. All of these from the weight of some stupid questions. They were the cause of-of-of this unholy attack! Holy shit the writer was a fucking demon, damning his mental state into a morbid, disgusting, flesh-rotting, horrifying oblivion that not even the worst of dictators deserved. Morty was only saved graciously by the few words that followed: 

You want your fucking smut? have it lmao I'm not that mean lol xd

Seven people: *cosplaying as Marshmello*

Marshmellos: *Getting nasty in bed*

Dick: Out

I'm done :)

If you want more nasty, our bible have some vore in it.