Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4747031.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Funny_Valentine/Funny_Valentine
  Character:
      Funny_Valentine
  Additional Tags:
      selfcest, mental_dissonance, Dissociative_Identity_Disorder, Identity
      Issues, Dubious_Consent_Due_To_Identity_Issues, Oral_Sex, Anal_Sex, Anal
      Fingering, Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous/Open_Ending
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-07 Words: 3024
****** Stupid American Trash ******
by Schediaphilia
Summary
     He met himself, younger and far more curious, and found himself
     unable to stop himself before it was too late.
Notes
     This one has a lot of references to not only other works, but songs,
     and also to mental illness. I tagged it DID despite me not outright
     stating it in fic because I have DID and projected quite a lot onto
     him to be honest. I hope you enjoy this experimental fic.
See the end of the work for more notes
There is no such thing as purity. Since the inception of humanity, there has
been no chance for a human to be pure and free of sin. Even the angel Gabriel
gave in to sin. Throughout history, the largest connecting feature of all
humans are greed and lust. There is simply no point in denying human nature as
one will eventually find himself giving in to temptation.
That’s how he consoled himself as the younger version of himself pulled him
closer, fists curled up tight in his overcoat.
“Do you think I’ll be as powerful as you?” His younger asked quietly, eyes
shining with excitement and the tiniest bit of fear.
Valentine shook his head, what a silly question.
“Of course; such is only the natural progression,” he smiled, running a gloved
hand over the side of his younger’s face, marvelling at how different but
paradoxically similar they were. How his other was so sweet and soft, while he
was bitter and tough. How absolutely naive his other was while he was so
inextricably tainted.
His younger gave a smile and Valentine realized something as he was struck
through the heart from the action. It was not that humans were born without
purity; merely it was natural progression that stripped humans of purity. Their
own desires are their downfall. Certainly, this version of himself was pure;
there was no doubt to be had regarding the matter.
How old was his younger? He couldn’t be sure. Perhaps in this world he didn’t
go to war, perhaps this boy was too young to even do so- his stomach sank and
he didn’t wish to think of it much longer.
“How old are you?” His younger asked suddenly, looking very bold.
Valentine tried to hide a frown; that was exactly the topic he wished to avoid.
He feared his younger not only would dislike the answer given; but he, himself,
would dislike that which he received. However, his younger was naive and
curious and it would be cruel to not sate such an endearing trait.
“Forty-three,” he answered clearly but lowly while trying to avoid looking at
his younger unbutton his shirt.
“Really? You look so young though!” His younger gaped.
Valentine carefully held back a cringe. He supposed he couldn’t be sure of his
age any more. His consciousness shifted with his stand, taking whomever was in
the world he chose. It was certainly nonplussing to see the subtle difference
in the bodies he controlled. He had often wondered who he truly was, if those
he identified as himself were truly himself. Such an issue rises so much
powerful mental dissonance that it brings grief to think on too much; so he
found himself ignoring the questions instead of finding answers. His
consciousness was certainly that old, but to be quite frank, he had no idea how
old his body was.
“I’m 17, turning 18 soon though,” his younger happily answered, resuming to
pull his older form on top of him. They both gulped.
He was older than he had assumed. He wondered what life that version of him had
lived. His body’s version had fought in the war, that much was certain; but how
many had not? What lives did they live without his interference? Was it moral
to strip away their freedom and force them to act in favor of the root world?
It was far too difficult of a question to answer and so he merely ignored it;
leaning on his normal morality instead: If it’s good for America, it’s good for
me.
(Ah yes, but what is ‘I’? What is this concept, this strange concept ‘me’ when
I have the disgusting knowledge only I possess- truly who is to be sure who
they are, who are we to-)
“Do you think I’m handsome?” His younger’s voice was quiet and Valentine
realized he had momentarily been trapped in his thoughts. He coldn’t help but
smile softly. Such a silly little thing.
“Isn’t that something you can figure out for yourself?” He chided softly,
running a gloved hand through golden tendrils far too similar to his own.
“I want to hear you say it,” his younger whispered, eyes pointing elsewhere.
The more he looked, Valentine realized, his younger’s eyes were more sapphire
than his own. Yes, his own were more like a baby blue- the last time he checked
anyway- but this one was different. Perhaps his eyes had faded with age?
“How forward,” he mumbled softly, bracing himself mentally as he lowered his
body onto the other. A light cologne’s scent hit his nose as he nuzzled his
younger’s neck, breathing hot and with purpose.
“You are very handsome,” he whispered into the other ear, pleased by the
shudder and moan it elicited. He pulled back and admired the facial expression;
he tried to imagine his own face contorted into the frenzied nerves and
overwhelming arousal that seemed to only befall virgins.
(But this only raises more questions, doesn’t it? Isn’t only more painful to
get to know them, to know their differences? What if he is the next to replace
us?)
He closed his eyes to clear his head.
“Is something wrong?”
Valentine opened his eyes. His chest tightened when he saw his younger, propped
up on his arms and head tilted, curious and nervous.
(Is this some new form of narcissism?)
Before his mind could connect everything that was happening, his body had acted
with his consent. He felt the groan of his younger into his mouth before his
mind knew he was kissing them. He gasped out, feeling overwhelmed not only by
the sensation but by dissonance. It was becoming harder to think between this
and his own-
(Yes. Yes it is. But there’s no shame is loving oneself, is there? For who can
you trust if not yourself?)
His younger was clenching onto his overcoat so hard he was surprised the seams
weren’t tearing. He was holding his younger so hard he was surprised he wasn’t
snapping in half. He moaned from his throat as his younger’s tongue ran along
his own, savoring the distinct flavor that assured him that if anything this
version tasted nothing like himself. His younger was pulling harder now, one
hand curled in white fabric while the other desperately held his shoulder,
physically begging for contact.
This was cruel, he realized, far too cruel. To both of them. It cruel to
pretend this was some form of harmless mastubatory glee instead of what it
really was; abuse of interdimensional privilege and abuse of naivete. They were
just different enough- just different enough to form attraction- they weren’t
the same person in essence- this was cruel. He didn’t know why but it was
cruel, it was so cruel how his younger ran his unblemished hands through his
hair, how he ground his pelvis on him. It was disgusting.
(But what if one cannot trust himself? Surely, you must realize by now even
yourself has the ability of betrayal. You are betraying yourself.)
“Fuck…” the younger whispered when his neck was assaulted, Valentine’s tongue
lapping at the nape of his neck and grazing his teeth. Skin, so much skin- and
he hadn’t even taken off his clothes…
(Sick, sick, sick sick, sick.)
“Y-you’re really good at this…” his younger whimpered out, gyrating his hips
nearly desperately against his elder.
“So are you,” Valentine muttered earnestly, leaning back on his knees.
His younger looked curious as he disrobed himself. The other caught on,
following his lead and removing his own trousers far too eagerly to be the man
above him.  Ah, there it was again, the dissonance that kept niggling in the
corners of his psyche and leaking deleteriously into his consciousness. But it
was far too late for guilt and far, far, too late for such a philosophical
debate against himself.
He wasn’t sure when he has crossed the line- was it perhaps when he decided to
interact with an other at all? Or was it when he offered him a cigarette,
smiling as his younger marvelled over the thin maize containing the tobacco?
Was it when he allowed his other to bring him to an inn when the sky was
twinkling with twilight, or was it when they were caught up in discussion of
greek myths, or perhaps when-
“So… What do we… do now?”
Valentine blinked. That was a very good question. He wasn’t sure just how far
he wanted this to go-
(It should have stopped at ‘Hello’, for your own safety.)
-and he certainly didn’t know how far his other wanted to go.
“Well, there are quite a few options…” while Valentine wasn’t incredibly
experienced with men, he understood the general idea. Frotting, oral, sodomy-
that was really the limit of it.
“What feels the best?” His younger asked, clearly as greedy as the man at the
end of the bed.
“That relies on preference, I cannot guess what you will enjoy the most,”
Valentine answered honestly, almost hoping he’d lose interest.
His younger squinted and wiggled his nose, seemingly confused and frustrated by
the non-answer. How endearing.
“What do you want to do to me, then?”
The question wasn’t phrased at all like his other was being seductive, but
nonetheless his dick throbbed from it. His stomach dropped as he tried to
ignore the dissonance, increasing like persistent static in his head. How
incredibly submissive; to allow himself to decide his course of actions and yet
so incredibly selfish as well.
Yes, purity was, in fact, only a temporary trait. If one were to squint his
eyes and cover his ears, perhaps this would not even count. It would be
relieved of his person, one way or another; surely it was only humane to do it
as early as possible and before some deranged southerners felt it their duty
to.
He knew just what he liked, after all; so perhaps this would be simpler than it
appeared. With that thought in mind, he came to a decision.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with how one performs normal copulation?”
His younger nodded, looking curious.
“And what is your knowledge of invert relations?”
His other’s nose crinkled as he muttered, “Depressingly limited.”
“In that case, it should be easier to just follow my lead,” Valentine lied; not
really wishing to describe in detail something so dreadfully indecent.
Willingness to say and do something were, after all, completely separate.
His younger seemed to trust him and nodded, laying back on the bed and looking
more curious than nervous.
As Valentine was looking around the room, particularly for a nightstand with
hopefully useful contents, his younger mumbled something quietly.
“What was that?” he asked as he found his target and began walking over to it.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
He momentarily forgot to breathe. He looked over, trying to pretend he was
concerned while his dick defied his lie.
“Do you want me to?”
His other’s nose crinkled again and Valentine’s heart clenched, far too
smitten. His younger’s face softened as if unsure, looking to the wall. It was
a moment longer before he responded.
“Yeah.”
They both gulped. Valentine resorted to nodding and resuming his search,
pleased by a bottle of lightly scented lotion be found. He froze then, suddenly
feeling more dissonance than arousal.
(What’s the matter? Are you afraid? It’s for the best, you know; you know.
Better himself than someone else, after all.)
As Valentine returned, his younger bolted up and snatched the lotion, eyeing
the bottle.
Surprised, Valentine merely watched him. Finally, the younger seemed to connect
the dots and smiled softly, laying back. So incredibly docile and yet
impressively curious. He trusted him because he was himself; so incredibly
naive as to think, surely, he himself couldn’t bring any harm.
Valentine placed the lube aside on the comforter for the meanwhile, crawling
onto the bed and pulling his younger self’s legs apart, eyeing his genitals.
His younger made a noise, sounding slightly startled, as he eyed the other’s
entrance, then flicking his eyes up to his testes and then his half hard dick,
drooping pitifully as it waited for attention.
Following his instincts, Valentine leant forward, pulling his other’s legs
around his shoulders. Yet another noise, a seemingly confused one- perhaps
anticipatory.
His younger yelped as his mouth grazed the underside of his dick, his fingers
lightly touching his balls as he gauged his sensitivity.
“What do you want to do to me?” His younger asked breathlessly, curious and
almost frightened of what was possibly going to come next.
Valentine pulled a testicle into his mouth instead of answering. He sucked
lightly while enjoying the surprised moan he received, rubbing the other
softly. He released him and instead lapped a deep, hard lick from the base of
his dick to the tip, sucking hard on the head. His other was as reactive as he
had suspected, and hoped, moaning wantonly and becoming rock hard in seconds.
Valentine descended on his dick, allowing it into the back of his mouth,
struggling only slightly as he swallowed around him. A particularly loud moan
from his other led to a moan from his own throat, as he stared up at himself.
He was already complete undone by the looks of things.
He raised his head, sucking the tip softly before he pulled away.
“I want to do terrible things to you,” he admitted breathlessly. His other’s
dick twitched and it only cemented in the foolish idea that this was a good
idea.
“So do them…” His other whispered as Valentine grabbed the make-shift lubricant
and put some on his fingers.
“You’re giving me permission to sodomize you?”
“I said to do what feels best,” his younger answered without difficulty..
“And you trust me not to be selfish in that decision?”
“I shall simply have to  believe you,” his younger replied with a smirk.
Valentine chucked to himself, rubbing what he hoped was a suitable amount of
lubricant around his other’s entrance, gently pushing and prodding the soft
flesh there. His stomach tightened before dropping as he pushed a finger
inside-
“Fuck,” Valentine whispered softly, eyes narrowing. His breath quickened,
thoroughly aroused by how tight he was, how hot he was, that quiet coo that
came from his throat as he pushed inside of him gently. He didn’t know how long
he could hold off, how long he could handle this torture.
“You’re disgusting,” someone whispered, but he couldn’t tell who, whom was
speaking no longer mattered as the edges where he began and he ended blurred
further; fingers pushing hard against his throbbing insides. His dick throbbed
as he pumped harder, eyes locked to the way his other was enraptured, how his
first had curled into the comforter so tight it looked painful, how his eyes
were full of the same indescribable lust he felt himself.
“Haa…” Valentine let out a hot breath, pulling his fingers out. He trembled,
they trembled, he lined up his dick to his other’s entrance and pushed. They
shook, a silent scream whispered from one and a silent prayer left the other.
His other was falling apart, muttering and whimpering, hand pumping his own
dick and clearly barely able to hold himself back.
“You’re disgusting,” someone said, and it didn’t matter from whom it came as it
was true in any context. He agreed, he nodded, he voiced agreement as he began
pumping into his other and God he’s so fucking tight, but there was certainly
no God to be found here. Finally the dissonance stopped only to be replaced by
overwhelming need, Valentine licked his lips, finally he knew exactly who he
was, his tongue ran over his teeth, finally he knew exactly what he was.
“You’re so fucking dirty,” he whispered and he knew he whispered it only
because his other moaned a hot, “Fuck, yes,” as a reply. Is there really any
purity to be had by something as filthy as himself? Was he ever endowed with
such a trait? His mind swam, hissing from hands pulling at his hair and tearing
up his scarred back. He fucked himself harder, hands clutching on his other’s
hips so hard he’s sure he’d bruise, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when
he was making those noises, when he was fucking himself into every thrust, when
his mouth was hung open and eyes rolling back and body shaking.
He was close, so fucking close, an almost inhuman growl erupting from his
throat as he felt himself coming undone, as he felt his other clench so hard it
was almost painful, his other muttering gibberish, his hands clawing into his
his shoulders as his hips shook against his will, hot and wet mess erupting
from his melting self.
Valentine threw his head back as he came hard, groaning. As the static of
euphoria ebbed out of his heavy head, he listened to the quiet moans as his
other recovered, occasionally shaking from aftershocks of pleasure still
coursing through his overwhelmed nerves. He felt lips on his neck, he heard
whispering, ‘that was amazing’. Slowly Valentine opened his eyes as reality
began to set in.
His eyes met sapphire ones, tired and admiring. He returned the his other
offered gently onto his lips, pulling a hand through his hair. Finally, he
pulled out and collapsed next to his younger, still catching his breath as the
remnants of lust found itself creeping down his spine.
“Can we do that again sometime?” his younger asked greedily.
His chest tightened.
His other was looking at him expectantly, running his hands lovingly over his
chest. This was cruel. Inordinately cruel.
“Yes,” he lied, assuring himself it was in fact a lie.
His other’s eyes lit up, his hands pulling his shoulders closer. His younger
nuzzled him, seemingly enraptured in his older self.
“Is this sick?”
He didn’t feel himself ask it and yet his other answered.
“I’m a grown man,” his other comforted, seemingly able to hone in on his own
fears instinctually. Valentine closed his eyes, pulling his other closer.
“You’re beautiful,” Valentine whispered to himself.
“I know,” he responded.
End Notes
     ~Follow me at~
     Main blog: presidentwiggler.tumblr.com
     NSFW blog: schediophiliadw.tumblr.com
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!