#BUT I GOT A GRAPHIC DICK PIC THIS MORNING

[cerealmonster15]

why am i getting 2 people in the same week texting me their dick thinking im some girl named anna

[bleach-your-panties]

⚡mind (and body) fuck 🛸- d.kaminari x fem reader x h.shinsou

⇰n/sfw 18+. mdni. MAJOR dark content warning.

⇰written for @bastardblvd's house of slimy horrors halloween collab.

⇰warnings: gullible reader, mentally ill reader, drug use (weed), electrostimulation, hypnosis, alien abduction, NON-CON, body horror, tummy bulge, use of surgical instruments, instrument insertion, egg retrieval, time-traveling (between present day and 1970's), alternate timelines, trippy shit, misogyny, sexism, sleazy men talk, threesome ig, excessive cursing, slimeball!denki being himself and slimeball!fake!landlord hitoshi, who claims he's a licensed hypnotist. this is degenerate, psychological filth; who wrote this?

⇰(i got the title idea from shinsou's hero name. i think it's mindbreak, but i always say mindfuck lol.)

🛸inspired by the movie fire in the sky and betty and barney hill's accounts of their alien abduction in 1961.

🛸banner images from pinterest/pic collage

🛸banner/animated divider made by me with canva/pic collage.

🛸halloween divider by @/firefly-graphics

🛸4.8k words

▶️: e. t (remix). - katy perry ft. kanye west

▶️: phone home - lil wayne

"You sure you don't want another hit, pretty?" Denki turned his head to ask you as he held the lit blunt, which was quickly becoming a roach, between his long fingers.

Hitoshi, who was sitting to your left, made a small sound of amusement.

"I think she's had enough. Just look at her fucking face."

You're Denki's new neighbor, having just moved down the hall into apartment 3E. After finally securing a day off from work, he decided to do the neighborly thing and invite you over. To get to know you better.

He met you as he was preparing to leave for work one morning.

You looked so lost and gullible, easy prey for him, but if he hadn't have left then, Katsuki would have most certainly put his ass on bathroom duty for being late. 

He'd have to put his quest of getting to know you on the back burner until he had more time.

And now, the day has finally come.

He wasn't very impressed when Hitoshi insisted on coming over the same day to 'work on some maintenance issues'.

Hitoshi is a bastard, a smooth bastard, that always seems to be in competition with him when it comes to nagging hot, unsuspecting chicks and taking them home, filling them up with weed, alcohol, and dick, then giving them the boot.

They even have a scoreboard, and Denki is currently just one point behind Hitoshi right now. Just one measly point.

And Denki planned to use little ole, naive you to even the score.

"What even is in that shit? It smells horrible." The violet-haired man waved his hand in front of his face to waft the weed smoke away from his "delicate" nose.

"You know, I've never seen someone who smokes cigarettes be so sensitive about a little weed. Pussy."

"Pussy? Oh, so now we're name-calling then? If I'm such a pussy, then how come I'm ahead of you right now on the board?"

He pointed a long, black-polished fingertip at the board situated across the room in plain sight. 

The girls that Denki brought back here either had to be dumb, lonely, desperate, or a sad mixture of all three. Not to mention the ones with daddy issues.

“Because you use fake status and promises of discounted rent to get pussy, while I, on the other hand, use my charm and good looks. Not to mention I actually know how to fuck.” Denki smirked and crossed his long arms over his chest.

Hitoshi just snorted and Denki knew that he had won that argument.

A soft moan and a feminine hand on his jean-clad thigh made Denki jump in surprise.

"Shit, I almost forgot you were here, baby girl. Scared the fuck out of me." Denki cooed at you and then snickered.

A steaming hot box of pizza was open on the small coffee table in front of you, along with opened cans of beer and soda.

"You still didn't answer my question, pisshead. What is in that weed and why does it stink so fucking badly?" 

Denki leaned forward to grab a slice of pizza out of the box: Hawaiian-style pizza.

"It's called Pineapple Express." 

 "Oh you just fucking made that up."

"I swear I didn't, but okay." Denki reached across your lap to ash the roach. Your small hand shakily reached out, grabbed his wrist, and rubbed it all the way down to the crease of his elbow, meeting the flannel of his rolled-up shirt.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you tired?” Denki asked you in a thick, honey-laden voice.

What he doesn't know, though, is that he's given you a dangerous mixture. 

A toxin that would soon have you spouting fairytales and complete nonsense.

You looked up at the zig-zag blonde confused, as if you were really seeing him for the first time. 

"Wait, where am I? W-what…what year is it?"

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and shot Denki a concerned look. 

"You're in my apartment, babe, and the year is 2023." Denki answered without missing a beat.

You were clutching his arm now in a panicked state.

"N-no, that can't be right. The last thing that I remember was walking home and then there was this bright, green light and…"

Both males leaned into you mechanically, them wanting to give you their full attention as well as them being eager to hear what you have to say.

"It was like a fire in the sky; at first it was merely a spark against the soot of the night, when all of a sudden, it was surrounding me, a blazing hot inferno, as if I had stepped onto the Sun's surface." You explained with a shakiness to your voice.

"If you even attempted to touch the Sun, you'd vaporize before you could even reach the surface." Shinsou retorted smartly.

Denki seemed perturbed by the story that you're currently spouting, but he also couldn't deny that it had sparked his interest. 

"Leave it to Denki to bring home a crazy bitch and try to fuck…" Shinsou mumbled and reached into his jeans pocket for a Marlboro Menthol Black cigarette.

Said blonde swatted at Shinsou, a silent message for the lavender-haired man to shut the fuck up lest he scare away the barista's latest conquest.

"Hmm, what are you babbling about, sugar tits? There's no such thing as aliens and time travelers." He chuckled gleefully and cradled you closer to him.

How cute and funny you are.

His dick began to stir in his jeans from having you lie against him like this. Your tits spilled over the neckline of your top and brushed his chest.

Shinsou rolled his periwinkle eyes as he continued to smoke his cigarette and watch the wispy smoke curl up into the air. The minty, smoky odor mixed with the fruity one of Denki’s weed.

Those eyes then moved to the floor where your open purse was sitting by his feet. Inside, he could see a couple of pill bottles peeking out.

While you were busy whining to Denki about how you’d supposedly been abducted by aliens in your past life, Shinsou leaned down and scooped the three bottles up to read their white labels.

‘Haloperidol, chlorpromazine, and trifluoperazine. Antipsychotics?’

He rolled the bottles over in his hand then shot another look over to Denki, who seemed to have forgotten that Shinsou was even there.

The blonde's nimble fingers splayed across your back while his other hand rubbed up and down your shoulder.

Your breathing quickened and Denki took that as your arousal coming out, but your chest was constricting; you felt like you might be having a panic attack.

Shinsou stood up off the couch and moved Denki's hand off of your shoulder. Honey snapped up to meet periwinkle.

"What the fuck, dude?" 

The pill bottles shook in his face, making Denki squint as he tried to read the small black writing.

"What is this?"

"Antipsychotic medication! This chick is seriously screwed up! You shouldn't have given her that weed; it's likely the only reason she's falling all over you right now!"

Denki scoffed and rolled his eyes. In his mind, Shinsou is just envious that Denki got to you first, and the lavender-haired man was afraid for Denki to take the lead over him.

"Now when it's my chance to finally get ahead, you want to be a man of morals? Spare me the bullshit, please."

"Forget about the fucking board for a minute! You-"

Denki swiped the bottles out of Shinsou's hand and brought them in front of your face. His free hand moved from your back to your belly and down into the waistband of your skirt.

"Did you remember to take your medicine today, huh, pretty?" He asked with a teasing lilt in his voice. This revelation doesn't change anything for him; he's still hard and still wants to fuck you.

Your eyes refocus on him, only slightly, and you give a faraway nod.

"I did…I think.." 

He leaned forward to set the pill bottles on the coffee table. "Good girl…" He purred like a fat cat with a bowl full of fresh tuna.

Denki grabbed your exposed thigh and used it to pull your leg across his waist. Shinsou didn't miss how your cunt gripped the chartreuse lace of your panties as Denki exposed you to his sunken eyes. He bit his lip.

"You're really going to fuck her while she's like this?" His voice was thick with apprehension. 

Denki didn't falter; he even smirked.

"Sure am...not like I haven't done it before. You got a problem, you can leave. There's the door." He nodded his head behind him to the metal door that leads into the hallway.

Shinsou's jaw clenched; his pride wouldn't let him be outdone by a dumbass like Denki. Not by a long shot. 

Shinsou had to think of a plan and think of one fast before Denki would have your spaced-out ass bouncing on his dick in this very living room. 

"Hey…I've got an idea. If she claims she was abducted by aliens, I'll hypnotize her. That way, we'll know if she's really telling the truth or if she's just a nut."

Denki laughed at the double entendre. "She is just a nut, but I'm interested now. Do you really know how to hypnotize someone?" He asked, looking at Shinsou while standing up from the couch.

"Of course, I'm a licensed hypnotist." Shinsou lied, trying to save face. 

Denki positioned you in a supine position and crossed your arms over your chest.

"I'm going to hypnotize her, not put her in a fucking tomb." Shinsou rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. Just do it, before I get bored. Also, if you think you're going to trick me into giving her up, you've got another thing coming." Denki snapped.

His tone grew darker, possessive. He settled his long limbs onto the coffee table and pushed the cans and pizza boxes off to the side.

"Shut the fuck up." Shinsou mumbled. He walked over to the arm of the couch where your head is situated and stood over you.

Smoke-scented fingers caressed your cheek and jaw. You looked up into Shinsou's eyes and they turned dark like cold, jagged amethysts.

"I need you to relax for me, kitten. Breathe slow and easy, don't force them out. Just let them come slow and easy, just like that. Good girl." 

His hand moved to stroke your hair and your squinted eyes shut completely.

"Keep breathing and slowly begin to count backwards from fifty. Come on, do it for me, baby. I know you can." 

Denki's golden eyes watched with intent and arousal; watching you submit to Shinsou's whim so easily was making him even harder than he was previously.

"50…49…48…47…46…"

Your arms slumped by your sides as you drifted off. 

—--

1976

—--

The crickets' songs were melodious in your ears as you walked through your darkened college campus to get back to your dormitory.

The women's dorms were situated far from the main campus and the only way to get there was through a thick, wooded area.

"Silly me for not watching the time and ending up kicked out on my ass at 8pm at night. So not groovy." You chuckled.

Your platform sandals thumped against the ground, the material of your flared pants swishing over them with every calculated step that you took.

It was a bit of a chilly night, not unusual for your hometown, but tonight oddly seemed much colder.

The breeze ruffled your clothes and you looked up into the obsidian night sky. The moon was high and the stars swirled behind the dark gray clouds like a vortex, waiting to swallow up the wispy bits of condensation. 

"How beautiful…"

Suddenly, one of those stars began growing larger and larger. It seemed to be moving towards the Earth; a comet maybe?

No.

It's much bigger and much wider than a comet would be and it's…spinning.

Hot.

The heat was all around you at once and you were trapped. A mechanical whirring sound reverberated in your ears and drummed against your brain. 

Bright, green light emanated from the flying disk as it landed amongst the trees, crushing many of them under its massive weight. 

The sound of multiple tree trunks cracking and bending under it sounded like multiple whips cracking against flesh and the sound made you wince. You dropped your books and covered your ears. 

"What…this can't be happening right now…"

You whispered softly and clenched your eyes shut. The biting cold was now no match for the heat that had engulfed your entire being. 

You fainted.

—--

We are not the same. I am a Martian..

We are not the same. I am a Martian..

(Greetings from Planet Weezy,

We will begin transmission in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

And if you feel like you're the best go 'head and do the Weezy-wee and

Phone home! (Weezy)

Phone home! (Weezy)

—-

You awoke sometime later in a cold room with steel walls.

"What happened to me..I..what the hell?"

You tried to move your arms, but they were strapped down on either side of your head with thick leather straps.

"What the fuck?! Let me go! Let me out of here! Anybody! Somebody - help me!"

All of your racket must have alerted whoever else was on the ship with you, because the metal door opened, lifting up from the floor slowly.

Purple smoke filtered under the door and two white-robed figures walked in.

You looked at them and they looked back at you. Then they looked at each other and began speaking in a language that your puny human brain couldn't even begin to comprehend.

The two of them looked like regular humans, but you knew that they were anything but.

The shorter one of the two, a blonde with a black zig-zag stripe through one side of his hair, focused on you. 

He was wearing blue visor-like eyewear that shielded his honey-colored eyes from your vision. The man began to approach your bedside and only upon closer inspection did you realize that he was carrying a metal try with various surgical tools on it.

While the blonde situated himself on a stool beside your bed, the other, a much taller man with wild purple hair, matching eyes, and a black mouthpiece concealing the lower portion of his face sat down at the foot of your bed…table…examination table.

He said something else to the blonde, who nodded without looking up from the laptop that he was now typing on.

He moved a slim finger to press something on the screen - you couldn't read the text, it must be in whatever language they were speaking - and you noticed that his skin was a sickly-looking pale green color and his fingers ended in very sharp black talons.

Definitely not human.

—-

We are not the same, I am a Martian

And I'm hotter than summer rain like Carl Thomas

Lock, load, ready to aim at any target 

I could get your brains for a bargain like I bought it from Target 

—-

The purple-haired one seemed content with just watching you, but he began twisting the knobs on the sides of his mouthpiece.

Greetings, human.

The sound rang inside your head like a bell. It didn't seem to have come from his mouth, but since you couldn't see his lips, you really didn't know. 

"I-I…what do you plan to do with me? Please, just let me go home…!"

You pleaded to him, but your cries didn't seem to really affect him. He just continued staring at you, as if you were an insect under a microscope..

An insect that he could easily overpower and crush if you even tried to defy him or his partner. 

We plan to cause you no harm, if and only if you obey us and let us perform some examinations on you…

"W-What kind of examinations?"

The blonde, now finished with his computer work, rose from the stool and grabbed the metal tray.

He joined the purple one at the foot of your bed, having pulled the stool with him to sit back down on.

The purple one said no more, but the blonde reached for your feet and placed them into stirrups at the bottom of the bed.

This setup is one that you're quite familiar with…is he planning to… give you a feminine wellness exam?

Your thoughts on that were quickly diverted once you saw the tools that the blonde had actually picked up.

He wore thick blue gloves made of, what you assumed might be latex, but it had to be stronger or his claws would've ripped right through them.

"No…no no no no…please!" You pleaded, thrashing against the table widely.

In one hand he held what looked like a transvaginal ultrasound probe but on a much larger scale then what you'd find in any doctor's office on Earth.

The blonde spoke again to his companion, his tone coming across as annoyed. 

The purple-haired man slowly rose from his seat and walked over to you.

He placed his large hand atop your sweaty hair and began to gently stroke it in an effort to calm you down.

Hush now, if you don't lie still I'm going to have to sedate you.

Why couldn't you have just done that in the first damn place!?

You wanted to argue back, but thought it less than wise to do so.

The blonde continued on since you seemed to be distracted now. Deciding to not look at whatever he was about to do to you, you focused your attention on the purple-haired man.

He looked into your eyes and his own wrinkled at the corners, like he might be smiling at you. His sharp nails lightly skimmed over your scalp creating a tingling sensation.

Very good, pet. You're doing so well…

He reached behind his head and began to undo the contraption over his mouth.

The last thing that you saw was a wide mouth full of rows of razor-sharp teeth and a long, purple reptilian tongue.

—

We are not the same, I am an alien

Like Gonzales, young college 

Student, who done just flipped the game like Houston

I'm use to Promethazine and two cups, I'm screwed up

And you ain't shit if you ain't never been screwed up

Flow so sick, make you wanna throw your food up

—-

The blonde man pushed the large instrument inside of you and watched from a screen situated above your bed to make sure that he was maneuvering it correctly. 

The large instrument stretched the skin of your stomach so lewdly and the purple-haired man watched it maneuver inside of you, intrigued.

Then, with a very long and very thin needle, the blonde penetrated your belly in order to get to your ovaries and retrieve some eggs.

When he finished, he removed his gloves and washed his hands in a wide, oval-shaped sink made of what looked like pure white marble.  

Your face was covered in sweat and you were breathing heavily, but both men were cooing over you now, stroking your arms and legs while speaking in their strange language.

You didn't exactly remember it, but you somehow ended up back in the forest where you started.

Five days later.

Your roommate, teachers, colleagues, and parents were all worried sick about you, and finally, you were found on the fifth day, curled up in a ball in the middle of the forest.

They were scared that you might have been drugged and assaulted or worse, had a delusional episode and had wandered off by yourself and gotten lost in the forest.

You had no clothes on when they found you; the only thing covering you was a thin blanket made of a shimmery-metallic colored fabric.

The story became a big sensation in your town, but many were skeptical of you because of your schizophrenia.

You went on to finish college and live a pretty successful life, but that one night all those years ago still haunted you..

—-

I never had life and I never had fear

I rap like I done died and gone to heaven I swear

And yeah I'mma bear, like black and white hair, so I'm polar

And they can't get on my system cause my system is the Solar

I am so far from the othars, I meant others

I just eat them for supper, get in my spaceship and hover, hover

—-

Present Day, 2023

—-

"Damn, it really worked…" Denki said in awe as his eyes raked over your still body. "Isn't she supposed to like, talk, though? She hasn't said a word."

Currently, you haven't really said anything or moved much. Shinsou really had no idea what the hell he was doing, but he knew that he hadn't killed you, so all wasn't lost.

"She's so cute, I could give a damn about her stupid alien story." Denki got up from the coffee table and began unbuckling his jeans. 

"Whoa, you're really going to fuck an unconscious girl?" Shinsou asked, a bit taken aback.

The blonde scoffed, "Please, cut the nice guy act, will you? It really doesn't suit you. Besides, I saw her first, so I'm going to fuck her." He shrugged, uncaring. 

"Wait, stop. She just moved. She can probably hear us." Shinsou looked at your face, and sure enough your lips were moving and you were mumbling something.

"Please stop…hurts…let me go…help...someone…" Tumbled out of your Chapstick-coated lips.

"She's probably talking to the aliens, so she's not unconscious." Denki snickered. He elbowed Shinsou out of the way and straddled your legs over the couch. A zipper came down and he was now palming his hard cock in one hand while the other reached to pull your top down.

His hand then slapped your face and you jolted, but didn't open your eyes.

"With that weed, her psycho meds, and whatever the hell you just did, we just made her into the perfect little fuck doll for us to enjoy."

"Us? This is crazy…I can't…" Shinsou cut himself off as he looked at the board again.

If he didn't do this, he would be behind Denki.

He would lose to Denki.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Either we fuck her together or no one does and the board remains as is. So what'll it be, Hitoshi?"

—-

I got a dirty mind

I got filthy ways

I'm tryna bathe my ape (ape) in your Milky Way (Way)

I'm a legend, I'm irreverent, I be reverend

I'll be so far u-u-u-p

We don't give a f-u-u-uck

Welcome to the danger zone, step into the fantasy 

You are not invited to the other side of sanity

They calling me an alien, a big-headed astronaut

Maybe it's because ya boy Yeezy get ass a lot

—-

Shinsou situated himself back at the edge of the couch where your head was.

He pulled his own zipper down and let his dick flop right on out and rest against your soft cheek.

"So soft and warm…" His fingers curled into your hair as he began stroking himself. 

"Bet her mouth is much softer and much warmer." Denki sighed. He was jacking himself off with your pretty lace panties wrapped around his condom-covered cock.

—-

You're so, hypnotizing

Could you be the devil? 

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing 

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing 

They say "Be afraid"

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you 

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension 

You open my eyes 

And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light  

—-

"Probably right…let's find out." Shinsou huffed breathlessly.

He leaned over you, parted your lips with two fingers, and spat into your mouth.

His cold, thin lips covered yours as he kissed you fully on the mouth, slipping his tongue inside.

—-

Kiss me, k-k-kiss me

Infect me with your lovin', fill me with your poison 

Take me, t-t-take me

Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alien 

Your touch, so foreign 

It's supernatural 

Extraterrestrial

—-

After releasing his warm cum all over your pussy, Denki reached for a small box underneath the couch.

Inside were two electric nipple clamps.

"These will really give her the shock of her life." He grinned and attached them to your erect nipples. 

"Wanna do the honors?" He tossed the small, black remote to Shinsou, who was rubbing his swollen cock over your wet lips.

Shinsou pressed a button on the remote and your body jerked from the electric shock, making Denki giggle.

—-

You're so supersonic

Wanna feel your power

Stun me with your laser

Your kiss, is cosmic

Every move is magic

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension 

You open my eyes 

And I'm ready to go, lead me into the light 

—-

"Fuck..!"

"S-shit.."

Both men moved in a rhythm; Denki thrusting into your cunt while Shinsou did the same action with your mouth.

"I'm going to…blow my fucking load..ahh shit, she's so tight for such a dumb slut." Denki groaned, his hips jerking faster and faster, making the couch scrape back and forth against the floor. 

"I'm close, too…fuck…so good…such a good kitten, take all of my cum, now. Drink it all up like a good bitch." 

Shinsou's head flopped forward and he grasped one of your tits while he orgasmed hard.

His cum flooded your mouth and spilled over the sides. The lavender-haired man tutted and used his thumb to push it back inside your mouth.

"Fuck!" Denki shouted and sunk his knees into the couch as he came hard into the condom. He had to catch his breath before he climbed off of you. Your panties were stuffed in his back pocket as he went to trash the condom and clean himself up.

Shinsou sank down onto the coffee table and pulled out another cigarette while he watched you.

It was now evening and the windows had darkened along with the changing sky.

Multiple stars littered the sky outside and the moon shone through the window where Denki had left the curtains open a smidgen.

When Denki came back, you were coming to with a shocked and confused look on your face. 

"It's you, again…it's you! You came back!" You cried. 

Without any care for how you might've looked, you sat upright urgently and wrapped your arms around yourself.

The blonde and purple-haired men just stared at you with bored expressions on their faces. 

They had gotten what they wanted and now had no use for you or any regard for your well-being whatsoever. 

That blonde and lavender hair, those sharp, cunning eyes…they were the same as those from all those years ago…how could you have not noticed it before?

"Stay away from me, you monsters!" 

You threw a pillow from the couch at Denki and he caught it. A smirk covered his lips as he watched you run out of the door with your skirt pushed up your hips, no shoes, no purse, and your hand haphazardly holding your breasts inside your top.

"Do you think she'll tell anyone?" Shinsou asked, smoke curling from his lips as he spoke.

Denki reached for another pre-rolled blunt that had been pushed off the side of the table during your activities. 

"Even if she did, who would believe a crazy bitch like her?"

—-

You ran completely out of the building, into the night.

You didn't know exactly where you were running to, but you knew that you had to get away from there.

Ahh, there you are. We've finally found you, again.

Your head whipped around behind you, where you could see two, tall, robed figures standing there. The moonlight reflected off of that tell-tale visor, while long, skinny fingers clicked and turned the wheels on the sides of a black mouthpiece. 

Our little test subject…

You screamed. 

—-

I know a bar out in Mars

Where they driving spaceships instead of cars

Cop a Prada space suit up out the stars

Getting stupid high straight up out the jars

Pockets on Shrek, rockets on deck

Tell me what's next? Alien sex?

I'ma disrobe you, then I'ma probe you

See, I abducted you, so I tell you what to do

(I tell you what to do, what to do, what to do)

Kiss me, k-k-kiss me

Infect me with your lovin', fill me with your poison 

Take me, t-t-take me

Wanna be a victim, ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alien 

Your touch, so foreign 

It's supernatural 

Extraterrestrial

----

*ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

[babysealfan]

this looks fun! number 25 for fexi 😊

thank u for the prompt bestie!! I COULD have taken this to a very angsty place so I think I deserve credit for NOT doing that.....instead this got a little smutty. enjoy!

25. Exchanging Letters

Fezco had tried to break up with Lexi when she left for college.

She said no.

He had insisted that she should focus on her education and having fun, and maybe she would meet someone new while she was there.

She had insisted that she could divide her attention equally, and that there was no man in the world better than him.

So he'd sighed and let her win. He was relieved, truly—no part of him wanted them to break up, he just thought he'd give her an out, if she wanted it. Clearly, she didn't.

And Fezco turned out to be the best long distance boyfriend in the world. He didn't demand her attention, or insist that she call him every day to check in. She still did it anyway, of course, but he didn't demand anything from her. He'd text her good morning and good night, ask about her classes and her friends, and indulge in sexy FaceTimes when she called him after getting home from parties. He'd surprised her on campus for her birthday and ordered food to the library when he knew she'd be up studying late.

But Lexi's favorite part of their long distance relationship was the letters.

She had framed the first letter and displayed it on her desk, a constant reminder of how loved she was. The rest she kept in a box tucked in her closet, along with other little sentimental bits and pieces of their relationship. She'd go through her little box whenever she was missing Fezco more than usual—generally, about every other day.

Her last letter to him had been short, sweet, and to the point.

Dear Fezco,

I miss you. I can't wait to see you (two weeks!!!). I included a special treat with this letter....call me when you get it.

Love,

Lexi

One of her friends had gotten a polaroid camera, and Lexi had borrowed it to take a few risqué shots for Fezco. The mechanics of taking nudes on a polaroid turned out to be much more difficult than Lexi anticipated, and so she'd had to enlist the help of her roommate to get the perfect shot.

Fezco had greatly enjoyed the present, though he questioned how close Lexi was to her roommate, seeing how comfortable they were taking each other's nudes. He didn't care how close he was to any male friend, there was no way he'd let one of them help him take pics of his junk.

Fezco wanted to return the favor, though he knew a polaroid picture of his dick couldn't compare to the work of art that was Lexi's nude picture (and either way, she very much preferred videos).

His best option was to use his words.

He did his research, picking up some romance novels at Barnes and Noble and searching on the internet. He found a fanfiction website where, apparently, amateur writers published some pretty graphic porn. A lot of them had some good ideas that he was now looking forward to trying out. Still, baby steps...

Dear Lexi,

I miss you so much baby. I'm just thinkin bout all the things I wanna do to you when I get to see you again. Your pic was hot as fuck but ain't nothin compare to the real thing.

I be thinkin bout you in that pretty pink panty set you got. How you'd look tied up to my bed by some of those pretty hair ribbons of yours, letting me have my way with you. How many times I could make you cum before you start begging for mercy.

I also be thinkin bout how pretty you look when you ridin me. With your pretty titties bouncing and you got your head thrown back and you moanin so loud the neighbors can hear. I think about you moanin a lot, actually, think I might be addicted to that sound.

Call me when you get this, maybe I can hear it again.

Love,

Fezco

Fezco got a call from Lexi at 10 pm a few days later.

"Hi, baby," she said in a sultry voice.

"Did you get my letter?" he asked, anticipation thick in his voice.

"I did," Lexi said softly. "I read it at lunch, actually."

"Oh," Fezco's mouth dropped open.

"Yeah, it was interesting being so turned on while I was eating mac and cheese," she said with a giggle. "Where'd you learn to write like that?"

"Baby, they got hella resources like that on the internet. People be doing crazy shit," he said. "Matter fact, I got some ideas."

"Yeah?" she said. "I think you should tell me about them."

[vodka-redbull-daily]

October 21st, 2023

*Graphic Sexual Content*

I took a little bit of a nap before getting up again at midnight.  I had told D-- that I was going into work today and originally that had been my plan. Back when we had made this plan like a week ago. D-- was very clearly a fake name or nickname but I don’t really care. It’s not like I’m actually looking to get to know him on that kind of level. If he wants to use a fake name, it’s whatever. Honestly, I should probably also do that. All the way back when I used to try and sell feet pics, I went by Erin Red. Maybe I should pick up that alias again. he seems pretty okay with me only being able to come see him after I get off work which is way too fucking early in the morning. he lives all the way out and Elgin too. That was a full hour drive from where I am.  but he wants to pay me 400.  might as well go.

We've been sexting throughout the week. I guess that's what it is. I keep saying messaging, texting, talking to, but I guess when you get down to it it is sexting. role-playing out sexual encounters through the phone, him constantly sending me dick pics, talking about what he was going to do to me when he finally got a hold of me. I've been talking this way with B--, S--,  and probably pretty much most of them if I think about it. and for some reason it didn't hit me until just now that I was sexing them. and that I probably should be charging for it. Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I am too much of a slut for my own good. I was honestly just enjoying myself and didn't even think about charging for it.

I got dressed and texted him that I was leaving. I was out the door by 1:00.  I stopped at the gas station  on the way there to fill up since we would be such a long drive and also got some red bull. i need that caffeine to keep me awake and Spunky since I had already had so much sex today  and was honestly caught off guard by how good it was with B------.  I was kind of hoping it would be mostly a let down like it was with everybody else. I'm all for sleeping with three different people in one day, but I was still a little bit sore from B------. don't get me wrong, I liked it. feeling sore between my thighs actually continuously turned around throughout the day  and that little bit of blood in my underwear got me all hot.

One of the good things about  it being so early in the morning, or late at night however you want to read it, was that there were almost no other cars on the road. I really don't think I would have gone if I had had to go during the day and fight traffic as well as Drive the entire hour. instead, I mostly just Cruised along the hallway there.  Since it's out in the middle of nowhere, the stars look really nice.

When I got there, I really thought he had either gone to sleep or he had sent me to the wrong address. The entire house was completely dark and the driveway was encircled with trees. I sent him a text and he confirmed that he was in fact there and was actually sitting on the porch. it was just so dark I couldn't see shit. so, I walked up to go say hi to him. For some reason, he just grabbed me and hugged me immediately. I don't know why that was. Maybe I felt less awkward for him but it felt way more Awkward for me. We sat on the porch for a little bit while he had a cigarette and it was really cold since I was wearing shorts and a crop top. He was very old. I mean I should have guessed that since his profile said he was 55 and his pictures showed an older man. but I guess I just forgot that he was actually that old.

so frail, voice doing that weird shaky thing that old people do. and the hug, I could even feel how loose his skin was on his bones. the lack of muscle mass. the beer belly poking out despite there being pretty much no other meat anywhere else on his bones. We sat outside and talked for a little bit about engineering stuff. He was talking about something about how his father had owned a factory that made pizza trays. I didn't really care that much to be honest. Soon enough, we ended up going back to his bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, he wanted to make out for a little bit. We did that as he slowly started to remove my clothes with his shaky ass hands. He made a comment about me being quieter in person that I was over text. I don't think guys understand the difference between having a conversation like that over text versus doing it in real life. I don't have time to think about the response, have time to type it out, see that it looks weird, and redo it. whatever. It wasn't very long before he took off his pants and had me suck his dick.

He had me suck his dick for so long. for such a long time I was just bobbing up and down on his dick as we would get hard and then go soft again.  He really was against me using my hands, apparently really excited by the fact that I had to chase his dick around with my mouth. It was so incredibly boring for me. We went on this for like 20 or 30 minutes. just me sucking his dick while nothing else was happening. He would make all these horrible old man noises. Finally, he had me bend over with my ass in the air and put on a condom. He made some joke about not wanting any more kids. He had barely got to dick inside me when it went soft again.

so, we went back to just sucking. so much to sucking trying to get it hard again. this time, it was just a limp noodle for quite some time. I don't know why I was fighting so hard to get the hard  again. probably because I was horny as fuck at that point and wanted to actually get dicked.  I don't know what's wrong with me, but I could honestly have sex all day long. I'm probably not tired of it. Maybe I should see a doctor about it.

It took another 20 to 30 minutes, but eventually he was up and at ‘em again.  I guess he realized that he shouldn't waste this opportunity since it might not  ever happen again. He put on a new condom, again had my ass up in the air and this time successfully put his dick inside me. He pumped in and out about four times before he came. It was a mixed bag of emotions about it being so short. On the one hand, I obviously didn't cum from that.  on the other, I kind of didn't want to be fucking this old man for hours and preferred it to be shorter rather than longer. Also, he was leaning very heavily on my shoulder, almost as if all of his weight was being pressed down on that hand and it was kind of hurting. 

He apologized for it being so short, but in the same breath was complimenting himself about how good his dick was. He also said that he thought that he was so big that he was hurting me. I know I make a lot of noise in bed and most of the time it's not even for show. I just make noise. but for some reason he confused my usual moans and whippers  for cries of pain, I guess.  We laid there for a little bit more,  made out for a little bit, then we got dressed again. I think I'm starting to realize that going more than one round per person is not very common. I guess I'm just spoiled. with Him,  we used to go over and over again. for hours at a time. we would soak through all the sheets, he would use two or three condoms.  I guess that's what I'm looking for and I'm not going to be able to find it here. 

I got my money off the counter. Four crisp $100 bills.  actually, it was more like two brand new crisp $100 bills on two very old, very wrinkled $100 bills. I made a joke to D----- that they matched him. She was disgusted, but also found it funny. On the drive home, I saw a little bit of a  high speed chase, I guess.  it was literally the middle of nowhere and a cop was following pretty close behind me. I was a little bit worried since my registration has been out for months now and I don't have insurance. He was so far behind me and he had his lights on already that I really didn't know what to do.  Then, I noticed that he was actually following this big van. like one of those kidnapper type bands. The van didn't have his lights on so that's why I hadn't seen it at first, but they were pretty quickly catching up to me and I was speeding a little bit.

(I always speed a little bit. sue me)

 The van and the cops weren't going incredibly fast, but they were definitely going faster than me. He came all the way from miles and miles behind me before they both finally passed me. I kind of pulled a little over to the side  because I wasn't really sure what was going on. I just wanted to get out of their way.  if the van was helping the cops, then it wouldn't want to be on their way in case the cops got pissed off at me for being too slow. and if the van wasn't helping the cops, then I didn't really want to help out the cops because fuck that shit. on the other hand, depending on what the van was in trouble for, maybe I should have helped? who cares. again, they weren't actually driving that fast so I don't know if it was really a chase. It was just weird. They drove past me, again not zooming past me, just driving, and ended up getting so far ahead of me that it wasn't really my problem anymore. 

Total Earned: $1,400

Body Count: 7

Dick Pics: 6

Sex Ranking:

B------

Him

T-----

R--

T-----

D--

M---

[ramp-it-up]

Make it Hot

Day 16 of #RampitUp1Kinktober

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader

Summary: Johnny just wants to make it up to you.

1Kinktober Kink: Face Riding

Word Count 1K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. Fuckboi ways, bratty attitude if you squint, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

A/N: Im so tired y’all 😩. And this is maaad late, but it’s still the 16th somewhere in my country, lol. This is for the 16th day of #rampitup1Kinktober! TYSM for following me! 🧡

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Let me make it up to you, Sweetheart.”

It always started like this.

Johnny’s fuckboy ways pissed you off and he would get you hot to distract you.

It was your toxic way of life being Johnny’s girl. At least it wasn’t boring.

You had blocked him and it had taken him a day and half to notice. He’d melted the lock on your front door to get to you.

You were in bed and about to cuss him out when he stopped you.

“Don’t even pretend. I know you want my attention. Well, you’ve got it now.”

Johnny pulled back the covers, regarding your panty clad body. You didn’t sleep in anything else because you’d invariably get hot.

One way or another.

He waited for that look to cross your face and then disintegrated your panties, heating your pussy up for him.

This is what you wanted. It had been three days since he'd given you dick and he was liking IG models’ booty pics. It wasn’t until you blocked him and posted your own that he came over.

Johnny shook his head at you.

“You know better than to advertise what is mine to the world, Sweetheart.”

He lifted your leg up on his shoulder and started to kiss your foot. Soft kisses and tongue trailed down your leg to your inner thigh.

“But I get it, I’ve been neglecting you.”

He must have been using his power to heat his kisses, because your leg and your soul were on fire.

Johnny ran his nose along your slit and inhaled, smiling as he lay flat on the bed, naked body indenting the mattress, as if etching his form into the bed. He was heating up. You whimpered in anticipation.

You were so wet, your juices were coating his lips as he licked you hungirly.

“So sweet. I want you to sit on my face.”

He lay down with his head beside your stomach, one hand reaching over lightly, hotly, tracing your belly button, while the other started stroking himself off. You swore you saw steam coming off him.

You get up on all fours and swing your leg over his head, kneeling above him. You felt the heat rising as his fingers parted your lower lips and slowly rub your already hardened nub with your wetness.

“Yes, I love this shit,” murmured Johnny, as your thighs started to shake already. “I’m about to eat this pretty little pussy like it’s my last meal, sweetheart.”

His hot hands grabbed each asscheek and pulls you down onto his face, burying his face in your cunt, motor boating and licking your wet cunt with his hot tongue (you’re sure of it now) until you are moaning loudly and beginning to try to lift off his face.

Johnny forcefully pulled you back down, saying something that must be “Sit here and take it,” into your pussy. All you experienced were the vibrations of the words on your sensitive clit.

“Johnny, please, oh my god, oh god!”

Your voice was broken as you begged him to stop. You started convulsing as you came in his mouth, your juices spilling out like a faucet.

When you were done, he pulled you back on his chest, propped his head up on the pillow and looked down at your wet mess of a pussy, trapping you there with his hands on your thighs.

His long fingers were still exploring your sensitive areas, and it was almost too much to handle.

“Johnny, please. I can’t take it baby. Please.”

Those fire blue eyes looked up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart. We’re just getting started. You’re going to be sore in the morning.”

His hoarse whisper made you clench and he felt it. He grinned that grin at you and pushed the fingers of one hand deeper into you while rubbing your clit with the other thumb.

“You’re so fucking nasty, Johnny. I love it”

You were sliding over his pecs now, the hair on his chest adding to the friction his hands were giving you.

He rubbed your clit faster, flicking his thumb over it back and forth until you were crying out, shaking and moaning.

He swiftly pulled you back over his mouth and plunged his hot, thick, wide tongue inside you to incite another orgasm, which happened quickly. You slumped over him onto the bed and he slid out from under you like a mechanic.

You were on all fours again, head on the bed and legs drawn under you. He pulled your legs apart and there appeared that perfect arch.

“Sweetheart. For me? You shouldn’t have.”

Johnny swiped his hard, leaking cock up and down your folds, sparking your over sensitive clit. You were exhausted, but you needed it to make your night complete. You arched even more.

“Yessssss. Let me get that shit.”

Johnny pressed his hot palm on the small of your back and held his dick straight as he slid inside you. You were so wet that it happened easily, but not without an incredible stretch that felt full and warm and good.

Once he was balls deep, he let you adjust and started stroking, warming up incrementally until your walls pulsed around him. At this point, his hips were snapping his cock into you hard and you could feel hot spurts of precum as he got impossibly harder and started moaning.

“Pussy so good. Gets me going. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Give it to me Johnny!” You were gasping for breath.

“Shit shit, fuck, oh my god!”

Suddenly, you felt his hot cum wash over your walls which triggered your third orgasm.

Johnny grunted his release and rolled off of you as you collapsed flat on the bed, his hot spend seeping out of you.

You smiled over at the sight of actual steam wafting from him.

He smiled back at you as he got up and moved toward the bathroom.

“Wanna take a cold shower with me?”

You couldn’t resist that smile, or the invitation.

After all, you knew Johnny would make it hot.

I know this is just PWP. But give it to me. I can take it.

Tags:

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @chattykathysquietsister @nikole-witha-k @nissameta1782 @afriendlyblackhottie @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @donutloverxo @marvelfansworld  @london-grunge @ximaginexx @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @chesca-791 @calimoi @fangirlfree @iconicshit @maroonsunrise83 @partypoison00 @curlyhairclub @denisemarieangelina @harrysthiccthighss @simpinforu @sunshinexsin @celestialbeingz @the-1900 @geminixevans @fanfictionwr1tin @breezykpop @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @peaceinourtime82 @hisgirlfriday439 @nik2write @deepintothenature @jassiejj2118

[heartkyeom]

we don't know that we know each other au

joshua hong x gender neutral reader

warnings: some light nsfw content at the beginning

notes: based on a very long au prompt I found and I thought it would be fun to write!! didn't wanna do a holiday party so just. think of it as a normal party ok bye pls enjoy!

the original prompt: my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he's coming to the next holiday party and don't worry he's heard all about me too and ALSO there's this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude's got a good dick AU

it was a good one night stand. he was pretty cute, your friends dared you to pick up a guy from the bar and joshua was there

and he was good in bed, so good that you both kept up a lazy friends with benefits agreement- less friends more benefits

you didn’t know what the hell joshua did with his life. maybe he liked painting? who knows but the dick was too good to ask

you both mutually sent nudes when either of you needed to get off, it was good and didn’t need any commitment

he was nice enough from what you remember, you just weren’t looking for a relationship

this was something your boss did not understand

this lady, bless her heart, was convinced you needed to meet her son because you would supposedly look so good together

you had given her your standard explanation that you weren’t looking for anything serious but she was determined to have you two meet

joshua didn’t mind going to the annual company parties for his mom, her company was moderately big so he could expect decent food/drinks- all he had to do was show up in a suit

she never forced him to come, joshua always came because he wanted to support his mom but this year it was different

she was quite insistent about making him meet one of her graphic designers and it was becoming annoying

his mom liked to play matchmaker for him and the people were usually nice, but nothing ever came of it

but something in him figured it would be good to go, just to see what would happen

the party started innocently enough, he greeted everyone from family friends to board members who had known him since he was a teenager

he was admittedly having a good time, mixing and mingling with everyone while sipping a beer

until his mom told him he was gonna bring the graphic designer over so they could meet. he abandoned the drink just in case things got serious

and serious is the understatement of the century because he expected a lot of things, but the last thing he expected was to see you

and holy shit it was him. he looked really nice, way better than your drunk memory actually. he was clearly trying not to seem affected but you saw right through him

oh god you didn’t notice your mouth was open and now you’re just screaming to yourself “bitch fix your face FIX YOUR FACE!!!”

…your boss was right though, you were clearly a good match because you had seen far more than his face

she’s like “hi 😁 here’s my son joshua! 😁  joshua this is y/n, I’ll let you two have some time to talk” and ohhhh my god the tension between you two once she left

it was you. he absolutely was not drunk enough for any of this wow

but you were so beautiful, he hated that he forgot all the details of your face the last time he saw you

you both greeted each other quietly, silently taking each other in and sitting with the tension of the moment

“should we go somewhere to talk?” joshua’s gentle tone shook you out of your daydream and of course you obliged

you both walked out of the main hall to a large foyer, stealing glances of each other like you both couldn't believe the other person was real and not just someone you traded nudes with

you burst into laughter at the same time because what the fuck were the odds??? how did your only one night stand happen to come back into your life so easily?

“it’s nice to finally meet you,” you sheepishly admitted to him and it was true- you didn't really talk last time at all, and if you did it was lost to the blurriness of that night

“you too,” he smiled at you again and the tension seemed to dissolve a bit

“I’d really like to get to know you if you’ll let me,” he reached his hand out to grab yours and oh my god the way your heart started beating faster……

you didn’t want a relationship. you swear you didn’t. but when joshua looked at you like that, how could you say no? you could give it a try and see what happened

“I would love that,” you replied and you could visibly see his mood get lighter. if you said no, the possible frown on his face would’ve been too much to bear

you spent the rest of the party sitting at a table back in the main hall learning about each other’s lives inside and out

the conversation felt so natural between the two of you, you normally wouldn't feel this inclined to share so much about your personal life

joshua noticed your hesitation at first, but he was so understanding and never tried to get anything out of you. he kept reassuring you that it was ok! no pressure! I just wanna take in as much as you’ll let me have of you

it was nice to confide in him, it made you feel like you could trust him with any of your secrets

you didn’t even notice that a few hours had passed since you started talking, it wasn’t until joshua pointed out that most of the people had left that you looked around

you both gathered your things and walked out of the venue together, your brain still buzzing with all the new things you learned about him

he wanted to take you home and you were jumping at the chance to do it until you remembered that your car was there- you didn’t want to let him down but he quickly reassured you that it was fine

“it’s okay, we probably shouldn’t have sex on the first date anyways” he replied and it made you laugh so hard.. like ok he’s very funny too?

“so this was a date then?” you messed with him just to hear his response

“yeah of course!” the way his face lit up oh my god you could have screamed!!! so cute!

you exchanged goodbyes and you began to walk away until you felt his hand on yours

he pulled you closer until your lips connected and it felt like you had never been apart

he was so gentle with you yet so passionate, it seemed like he was making up for lost time- it was all so tender and you couldn't help but smile at how sweet it all was

he pulled away from the kiss and quietly asked you why you were smiling, a tiny smile played on his lips

your cheeks were flushed red... you could barely even look at him! much less reply!! you just put your hands over your face instead

he gave a little fake gasp of shock like omg!! he knew you were shy but not this much!! but he thought it was so adorable, it took everything in him to not kiss you again

he heard you giggle, he pried your hands off your face slowly and you made eye contact again, he whispered "why are you so cute" and AAAA it made you melt even more

he didn't have to be so patient with you but he was. it made you regret not giving each other a chance before

and oh god you hate thinking about all the kisses he could’ve given you in the time you've been apart.

but fate brought joshua to you now for a reason, so why question the timing?

as he sent you off to your car with a small wave and a smile, you knew that you couldn’t imagine your life without knowing how things turned out with joshua hong <3

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

Tag List:

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Send an ask to be added to the list!

[iamnightduchess]

HELLO QUEEN! Oh my gosh your latest updates have gotten me so hyped up and happy!! I love the feeling of seeing your post updates on my dashboard. I was wondering if you had time if you could possibly do some NSFW head cannons for It’s Gotta Be You universe?? I reread it again for the 100th time after reading your AYA update but I love that universe so much!

Hello dearie! I hope you've been doing well ever since. I apologize for the slight delay as RL is demanding a lot of my time. But, I hope you'll enjoy this! ❤

Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) (R20+) Fic AU Headcanon #13

Universe: It's Gotta Be You (Modern AU)

(A/N: ‼️WARNING‼️Graphic/Explicit Description of very dirty smut with potentially provocative images ⛔ Please don't click Keep Reading if you're below 20 🙅‍♀️ Sorry kiddos! To my dear adult readers, please absorb this post's content with appropriate discretion & maturity)

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I've shared more of ReiKasa's detailed Modern AU sexcapades in this post and for this Ask, I'll explore the different preferences involved in their sex life. Based on this post, Reiner & Mikasa had a 10-dates rule before they actually become intimate with each other and that post describes briefly on their phenomenal sexual compatibility. Before they reach that 10th date goal, they decided to keep all their interactions chaste, which only adds up to the building sexual tension between them. These two has a spark that ignites from just a single touch. Therefore, it had been a truly challenging period for them to keep their magnetic pull in check.

When they were in high school, they've only ever held hands but has never even kissed. Reiner was raised to be a respectful gentleman and he's always letting Mikasa takes the lead. He waited until she was ready to get a little bit more physical with him, thus why he suggested the 10-DR. So when did they have their first real kiss?

On their 10th date.

First Time

Their first time with each other had been a literal afternoon delight. Mikasa missed out on their 10th date night because of an on-call emergency at the med centre, so they made up with a lunch date the next day. Sure, they've been clawing at each other's clothes from outside the car to his front door and had never even made it to his bedroom but they really made full use of his coffee table and his couch. If only those furnitures could talk, they would tell you very interesting stories that took place on that day.

Bedroom Jams

Reiner and Mikasa do not have a particular preferred soundtrack running in the background while they're getting down and dirty. But, they'd always have Linger by Cranberries or The Root's You Got Me to set them in the mood for some slow-dancing before revving up their engines for their inevitable sexy times.

One time, Reiner had jokingly put Boyz II Men's I'll Make Love To You on in the bedroom. Mikasa changed it immediately to The Devil in I by Slipknot. It felt like an out of body experience the whole time.

Reiner likes to do this little striptease dance to 90's boyband songs just to drive Mikasa up the wall 🤣 One time, he wanted to surprise Mikasa from work & started grinding against her booty with his sexy moves as soon as she crossed their living room, completely not realizing that his mother had also walked through the door as his wife had picked Karina up for dinner at their house. He got an earful from his own mother 😳

Sexting & Surprises

Reiner loves sending sexy text messages to Mikasa when she's at work or when he's away in Marley for work meetings. The nature of her work demands her to be on-call or be at work in longer shifts, therefore, his texts make her misses him even more. Mikasa would not admit it out loud but his naughty texts do get her in the mood to make a lot of love to him when she gets home 😏 Before someone asks, no, Reiner does not send his wife dick pics haha

Reiner is also the type who'd surprises her from a long night shift in the morning by making her breakfast in the kitchen with nothing but an apron on. Yeah, Mikasa had a good eyeful (and mouthful) of his buns alright *wink* Reiner would also surprise her with a hug from behind when she's doing meal preps in the kitchen BUT Mikasa would be the one slipping her hand in his pants while he's doing the dishes. These two really do love getting kinky in the kitchen.

Gabi accidentally walked in on them one time and poor girl was mentally scarred, she locked herself in her room the whole night.

Favorite Positions

Despite having athletic bodies and fit figures, Reiner and Mikasa do not experiment with odd, bizarre positions as much. Their favorite position is either tantric or golden arch as they love locking gazes while whispering their undying affection for each other (+more dirty-talking from Reiner!)

But when they're in the mood for a more rough loving, all fours in front of a mirror or standing/sitting wheelbarrow would be their favorite positions for them considering his superb upper body strength and her amazing flexibility (Reiner has those weekly yoga routines of hers to thank for!)

Dirty-talking

Reiner likes to do this a lot (even in public) that it'll always make Mikasa goes multiple shades of red. His dirty-talkings are adorable and dorky but although Reiner's very alert when reading the room, he also tends to forget in switching off his dirty-talking mode once he's in the mood.

One time, he was calling Mikasa when he's away for work training. She was driving and had him on speaker. He was feeling a bit frisky and told her flat out - he can't wait to come back home, get inside the showers with her and ram into her so hard that she can't walk straight that his Dr. Ackerman-Braun need to take sick leave for 2 days. Things went still and quiet from Mikasa until he heard Annie's voice from the other end.

Annie : Ram her with what, Reiner? Your 3-inch dick?

Reiner: Screw you, Annie.

Annie: Gross and hey, Armin's already doing a bang up job in screwing me. Besides, you don't need to worry about Mikasa missing you. I just bought her this brand new vibrator.

Reiner: Totally ignoring you, Annie. Mika, c'mon babe, you know the real deal's so much better.

Mikasa: Rein--

Reiner: I made you come three times before I leave. You don't need that thing right? Can you hold on until I get back, baby, please?

Mikasa: Rein, can we talk a bit later?

Reiner: It's just Annie there right?

Pieck: Hey, Reiner. I think you just terrorized Gabi.

Reiner: F**K

Turns out Pieck and an already traumatized Gabi were also in the car with Mikasa at that time. Reiner avoided showing his face in front of the two women and his own cousin for the next 2 months.

As mentioned, that wasn't the first time Gabi had such TMI of her cousin and his wife's sex life. Apart from walking in on Reiner and Mikasa in the kitchen, the couple had terrified her enough for life when she also walked into them doing the deed inside their own living room (They either forgot Gabi was staying the night or had thought she was asleep) Gabi never wanted to be near that couch ever again.

Public Sexcapade

They had a quickie in Grisha's basement during one family dinner with the Jeagers. Zeke almost walked in on them.

Reiner also owns a pickup truck. He likes to take Mikasa out for a night drive. He'll have the back boot of his truck all nice with warm covers and they'll park somewhere private uphill to stargaze. They'll make love underneath the stars in the open air and just hold each other afterwards. Mikasa loves to listen to Reiner as he tells her about his favorite constellations.

Body Appreciation

When Mikasa's body starts to grow when she's carrying their twins, Reiner develops a much higher level of appreciation towards her body because of the changes she's going through. Obviously he appreciates the tremendous increase of her cup size, but he notices every other parts of her that swells beautifully with every week of her pregnancy too. As shared in this pregnancy post, Mikasa had the upper side of her hormonal changes that Reiner was the one who's constantly be worrying that he'll poke the babies in their heads every time she gets in her special mood 😂 see, he's so adorkable!

Sneaky playtime(s)

Reiner & Mikasa would always have a burning fire in their marriage even as they grow older. The twins were not spared from the traumatizing knowledge of their parents' extracurricular activities, when they overheard their parents from outside their bedroom door one Sunday morning.

Miraé: Rémy, are Mama & Papa fighting? She said the F word to Papa. Oh, Papa said he's coming? To where?

Rémy: Jesus, Miraé. They're having sex.

Miraé: What's that?

Rémy: Aunt Gabi told me to stay away if we ever hear weird noises coming from Mama & Papa's bedroom because it means they're having their adult playtime.

Miraé: Let's just go next door and ask Uncle Armin & Aunt Annie about it.

Armin was speechless and red with embarassment while Annie cackled at the poor twins. Afterwards, Annie sent a photo of the twins in their family group chat with the caption "Please come pick up your kids at our house after you're done maintaining Mikasa's plumbing 🍆💧💧" 🤣

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Gosh, I really, really enjoyed working on this. Thanks again for the Ask, Anonie 🙈💕💋

[imissjoongsmullet]

Too Far and Then Some

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: smut

Summary: The sequel to Too Far. You and Bang Chan have continued your sexy shenanigans as fuck buddies. You’re still recovering from another wild night with him when he starts sexting you... while you’re at work.

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: graphic sexual content (duh), swearing, fuck buddies, oral sex, cumshot, masturbation, phone sex, sexting, unsolicited dick pics, sex in a public space, degradation, praise and I think that’s about it?? I never know what to put here honestly...

Word Count: 5K

Author’s Note: well well well, I couldn’t leave this one alone now could I? This is part 2 in what will probably end up being a 5 part series because as I’ve said before I HAVE NO CHILL anyways, this was my first time trying to write out phone sex, it was a bit of a challenge but I hope you enjoy ♡ ♡ ♡

►

"Fuck," his voice vibrates against your ear as his hips snap into you from behind. You have one arm out on the windowpane before you but he's got the other locked behind your back, making you cry out in pain and pleasure with every thrust. You'd been a bit too bratty for his liking before, when you'd pulled your lips off of his dick moments before he could cum just so he would punish you good.

The night sky over the city is beautiful tonight but you barely notice. He'd fucked you against many a hotel room window since the first time you two hooked up that one night and decided not to stop. You messed around all over the place but you'd made a habit out of getting a hotel room on weekends, so he could give you 'a proper fucking'. He preferred it when you were loud anyways and the park, cinema and public toilets just didn't allow for that to happen. Tonight alone, he'd fucked you in the shower, eaten you out on the floor/the bed and was now leading you to your fourth orgasm of the night.

You’d been completely mistaken before; you absolutely fucked with people like Christopher Bang. You adored fucking Christopher Bang, couldn't get enough of his fists in your hair, his tongue in your mouth, his dick in your whatever hole he preferred that day. Yes, he was obnoxious and a little full of himself, but he knew how to treat a lady as dirty as you.

"Cry for me baby," he pants as his index finger comes around to rub your clit.

You shudder under the sudden stimulation and your voice fills the room. You look down at the people below who had no idea, who, if they only looked up would get a free show from the third floor window.

A hand takes your chin and turns your face. He looks as fucked out as you undoubtedly do; sweaty and hazy, every pore in him screaming for more of you. He kisses you sloppily, tasting himself on your tongue.

The build-up of his hard cock sliding in and out of you, his middle finger rubbing merciless little circles against your core and his ragged pants in your mouth push you to your edge.

You let out a muffled cry, trying to let him know you're about to explode. He growls into you in return and let's go of your chin, halting his movements.

"What are you—" you manage to say before you whine out suddenly at the sensation of him pulling out from you. He turns you around against the glass, pressing you into it. His fingers link into yours and his brings both your hands up on either side of your head on the glass.

"You've had your fun tonight," he murmurs against your lips, "three times already."

"Jealous?" you shoot back.

He smirks and his eyes go dark as one of his hands moves down in between the two of you. He palms his dick and starts to pump himself slowly, letting him slide over your very sensitive folds. Your breath hitches at the touch.

You hate him; you really do but you're too far gone to struggle much. You hate how weak you are for him, hate how you're already aching for him to fill you up again, for him to give you your release the way only he could. You'd do anything for that release. He was so deliciously bad to you. He satisfied your longing and made it hurt so good. He was so wrong in all the right ways and you just loved to hate him for it.

"If you want more, you going to have to work for it, baby girl," he says, relishing the struggle in your features, "on your knees."

You move down in front of him. His hands untangle from yours and one of them comes to stroke your hair softly.

"That's it," he coos, "now be a good girl and blow me."

You taste yourself all over his cock, sweet and slick. Your hand steady at it's base, your tongue slithers down the sides of his length a few times and you hear him take in a breath. You stroke him slowly as you kiss his tip, letting your saliva drip down all over him before finally taking him in.

You feel him respond to you, his dick pulsing in your mouth, his fingers curling in your hair, his breath stuck in his throat. When the first wave of pleasure has rolled over he murmurs down at you, “that’s right, baby.”

You’re bobbing up and down, trying to keep your tongue busy around him as you go while your hand still works around the base.

“Look at me,” he orders, yanking at your hair. He stares down at you dazedly, mouth agape and eyes set on yours, “fuck you’re so good at this,” he groans, never breaking eye contact, “so good, baby,�� and he starts bucking into you a little.

You adjust yourself in front of him so you can take him in better. You’ve gotten more used to the size of him, but even now, can’t comfortably take all of him in at once. Luckily, you’ve found other ways to stimulate him. Your free hand massages his thigh, moving in circles and slowly making its way to his crotch. When your finger reaches under his balls to softly rub the small strip of skin there, his whole being tenses and you know he’s close.

He lets out a few more curses above you and you know he’s snapping. The fist in your hair tightens and his hips buck into you madly. You choke around him as his tip hits the back of your throat; a feeling you’ve gotten very familiar with in the past few weeks.

“Let me fuck that pretty little mouth,” he slurs above you, hips going wild.

You can’t breathe and your mind goes blank and your throat hurts but all it’s doing is making you wetter for him. He’s panting hard and you know he’s close but before he can release he pulls out abruptly. His hand wraps around his dick and pumps erratically while the hand in your hair keeps you locked in place. With a final groan he reaches his limit. He holds you still as white strings of cum hit you, covering your face and chest, all the while you’re still trying to catch your breath from have him ram your throat.

When you finally look back up at him you can’t help but revel at how gorgeous he looks. He gets down and close, hovering over you, making you fall back against the cold glass.

“Such a good girl,” he says before claiming your cum-coated lips. Without warning, two of his fingers enter you and you moan into the kiss. You’re already close and he knows it. You’ve been close all this time and all you want is for him to finish you off. His other hand busies itself at your breast, squeezing and pinching, while his lips suck at your swollen mouth. When he pulls away from the kiss he’s smirking at the way your eyes are begging for more.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he asks and you fold at once. You don’t want any more games tonight; you just want release.

“More,” you whine, fingers reaching out weakly, “please more.”

His head dives down between your legs and joins his fingers in pleasuring you. His tongue flicks against your clit in time with the digits that pump in and out of you. When they curl upward you cry out loudly. He’s hitting you right, over and over and over and, finally, your orgasm takes over.

You can barely move. Your chest heaves up and down as you watch him walk across the room to get tissues. He kneels down with you and cleans you off, looking smug as shit and if you had the energy, you’d punch him in the shoulder. But then he picks you up and lays you down on the bed gently, getting in next to you.

“Didn’t you have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning?” you say when he starts pulling the sheets over the both of you.

“It’s fine,” he replies, getting cozy beside you, “I’ll wake up before sunup.”

You want to protest but he’s already leaning over to turn off the light.

“You sleep long okay?” he adds in the fresh darkness, “don’t worry about me, I’ve set an alarm. I’ll try not to be loud.”

You feel him twist around in the sheets for a few minutes before he finally falls still, his breathing evening out.

He usually left after you were done because of his busy schedule and the fact that he couldn’t be seen exiting this type of hotel. Needless to say you were a little worried; you didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you. Then again, it was nice to not have to sleep alone after a night like this.

Not that you need him here; you’re perfectly happy with the way your relationship — or lack thereof — has turned out. As depressing as it sounds, you’ve given up on love a long time ago; things are simply easier without it. And he? Well, he’d be in big trouble with his company if it turned out he had a girlfriend, so it hadn’t been hard to settle into this little arrangement; it was a perfect, really.

There’s movement in the sheets and a warm arm snakes around your waist. You’re startled but you don’t move. You feel his breath on your neck and know he’s right behind you. You suppose its nice, but you’re drowsy so you press your eyes shut and try to get some sleep.

When you wake again the room is bright with sunlight beaming in through the large windows and you’re alone once again. There’s no trace of him anywhere; it’s like he was never there. The aching in your body reveals otherwise, of course. In the shower, you run your hands over the sore muscles, the love bites and the bruises he was responsible for, replaying memories made the night before in this very room. He’d had you pressed up against the shower wall, finger-fucking you, he’d used the massage function of the shower head on you, relishing how you squirmed as the water shot up against your pussy. He’d held the thing locked between the two of you, pressed  against your clit as he fucked you into the floor. You remembered his hot breaths echoing around the room, as well as your desperate moaning. God, you were never this desperate for anyone. He unlocked a piece of you you never thought you had in you and you were more and more glad for it to exist.

You leave the hotel room, covered in a large black hoodie. Thankfully, you have the day off until well into the afternoon.

You spend most of the day lazing around at home on the couch because your body is still quite sore. You watch some Netflix as you lie covered with pillows and blankets, slipping in and out of sleep until your alarm lets you know to get dressed for work.

Unlike Chan, you’re a total nobody at the entertainment company, which leaves you with more free time but also means you don't make nearly enough money to sustain yourself, which is why you’ve started bar tending on the side.

It wasn’t the best job but you enjoyed it. You liked watching customers’ lives play out in front of you as they transformed under the power of alcohol. You’d witnessed blossoming friendships, awkward moments, hookups, breakups and fights, sometimes even all in the same night; it was great fun.

Your phone buzzes as you enter the still empty bar but you ignore it because your boss is already greeting you. You greet back and help him put the chairs in place all over the room. Then you’re sent to set up the bar area while he deals with a late supplier. Once behind the counter you take out your phone, eyes going wide when you swipe open the message.

He’s shirtless and glistening with sweat. His shirt hangs over his shoulder like a towel, failing to cover his perfectly toned upper body; the body that had made you cum four times the night before. He was looking into the camera with those stupid bedroom eyes of his, smiling smugly and the text under the picture reads:

just finished the recording… like what you see?

He’s even added a kissy-face emoji, which probably annoys you even more than the picture itself. No. What annoys you the most is that he’s probably aware he’s annoying you and is probably loving every bit of the process.

You roll your eyes and put away your phone; you’re not feeding his ego with a response. Instead, you wipe the counter and set up for the first customers.

It’s a bit of a slow evening. Groups of people trickle in here and there but the real buzz will only start at around 11pm, which is still a couple of hours away. You pour beers, wash some glasses, stare at the trio of girls huddled together in a corner, wonder what they’re so excited about, do some more washing, wipe the counter, make cocktails for the stupidly clingy couple that just walked in, wipe the counter again cause you made a mess with the cocktails, gaze at the clock for a full 5 minutes, drink some water, welcome your coworker who helps out during the later hours, make some mojitos for a pair of hipster-looking guys, wash more glasses and all the while manage not to open your phone and look at the picture again. You’re quite proud of yourself. Somewhere in the night you even forget it exists so that when your phone buzzes again, you don’t think anything of it. You scan the room to see you’re not needed anywhere and unlock your phone only to drop it onto the floor with a shriek.

“You okay there?” your coworker calls from the other side of the room.

“Yes!” you yell back, a bit too loud before diving behind the counter to pick up your phone.

Your screen isn’t cracked, which is good but you’re worried about what you’ll see when you reactivate it. You hover protectively over the device, even though there’s no one that could possibly see, and click it back on.

Instantly, the new picture he’s sent you graces the screen. This time he’s pointed the camera lower. You thank the heavens he’s still wearing underwear but even then, the shape of his hard cock is very prominent. The message reads:

thinking about last night...

“Hey!” a cold voice calls.

You jump a little and quickly turn around to see a tall man with slicked-back hair. He looks about ready to complain to your superior so you dash up, trying to hide how hot your whole body feels at this moment.

The man orders some hard liquor and looks at you with disdain the entire time you’re serving him. When he’s finally gone you turn to your coworker, signaling you’re taking a bathroom break.

You go back to the message, trying not to get distracted by the very distracting picture, and type up a response.

What do you think you’re doing? I’m at work!

His reply comes almost at once.

So? Me too.

You can’t believe him.

What?? Where are you?

In the changing rooms. But I can try to find some place more private for you if you’d like.

You’re out of your mind put some clothes on!!!

Another picture pops up. This time, he’s got his hand palming his length through the fabric. There’s a tiny dark spot where you know his precum has started leaking.

Come on baby girl, show me a little something.

You don’t understand where he gets the confidence from. There’s no way he’s alone in that changing room and he’s literally about to start fucking himself. With the way things are going he’s probably moments away from sending actual dick pics. You let out a groan, mad at him for his reckless behavior, mad at him for doing this while you’re at work and mad at yourself for getting turned on by the whole thing. You’re squeezing your legs together, trying to ignore the fact that your panties are wet.

You turn on your camera and point it at your face. You stick up your middle finger, snap the picture, hit send and leave the bathroom, putting your phone in your back pocket.

The bar seems to have doubled in customers in the few minutes you were gone. Good, you think; you can use the distraction. Just as you reach the bar, your ass vibrates. You make a face that has your coworker eye you apprehensively but you wave it away like it’s nothing. When no one’s looking you open up your phone to another message from him.

What are you planning to do with that finger?

He’s put a fucking winking emoji at the end. You might actually end up murdering him.

You type back hurriedly for him to fuck off and then shove the phone back in your pocket, turning around to the row of customers in front of you.

While your coworker tends the floor, you stick to the bar, making drink after drink, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. It’s a feeble attempt though because all you can think about are the pictures he’s sent you, as well as the messages that came with them. It takes you everything in you not to abandon your responsibilities and give in to his advances but you won’t. You refuse to give him that pleasure. You try to make small talk with customers sitting at the bar to distract yourself, which works, sort of.

“You’re moving abroad in a few days? Fuck, congratulations!”

“Your girlfriend just broke up with you? Sorry to hear it but let me tell you, romantic relationships are a lie mate.”

“You’re debating on getting a dog? Hell yeah! Get you one of them big and fluffy ones!”

“You just got fired? That sucks. Though maybe you’ll find something even better next, you never know.”

Every now and again you cave and look at the messages on your phone. Though no new pictures come, the incoming texts are every bit as dirty.

Come out and play baby girl

My cock is waiting for you

Your boss won’t miss you while I fuck you with just my voice through the phone

You know that’s what you want

God I wanna see that pretty pussy again

Are you slowly losing your mind? Yes. Are you going to give in to his little game? Absolutely not.

Probably not.

By 1am, the busiest period is over and you’re beginning to crack. You’ve been wet for him for hours now and the desire for release is getting overbearing. You heave a sigh and text him back at last:

Do you ever give up?

You see he’s typing up a response but then the dots at the bottom of the screen disappear. You poor a couple more beers and as you hand them to the customer, your phone starts ringing. You quickly twist round and squat down so no one can see you and pick up.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing calling me?”

“You know exactly what I’m doing.” His voice is dark and gravelly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m in bed. We got back to the dorms a minute ago.”

You run a hand through your hair. “Listen up, asshole. I’m still at work so you better leave me alo—”

“Get somewhere private,” he interrupts, “now.”

The way he commands you sends a chill down your spine and for a moment you’re actually considering it, but in the end you reply, “I’m not about to get fired for your entertainment.”

You can almost feel him smirking on the other side of the conversation. “Don’t act as if you don’t want this, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you’re a filthy little girl, I know it all too well. You can’t hide from me.” He lets out a soft groan, letting you know he’s already started without you.

“I fucking hate you,” you sigh, peering over the counter to see where your coworker is at.

“I know,” he breathes back, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You call over your coworker, telling them you’ve got an important call from your mom to take. Once you’ve got the okay, you make your way to the back of the room where an iron spiral staircase leads to a mezzanine level. This space is usually closed off to customers and mostly reserved for private parties. There are tables with chairs on them all around the room but you walk over to the table on the right side. It has a nice cushioned bench sitting against the wall for you to sit on. You plug your earphones into your phone and sit down, your whole body burning with a mix of excitement and fear. This was no private room with a lock, this was an open space. You could still hear the many customers downstairs conversing and laughing over the background music.

“You there baby?” his voice pulls you out of your daze.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Shut up,” he says harshly, clearly out of patience, “don’t pretend you’re not dripping for me right now.” He lets out another heavy breath. “Show me.”

The next moment your phone screen lights up and you can see his room. He’s lying on his bed, camera angled at his crotch. The boxers haven’t come off yet but his dick has popped out, standing proud and tall.

You take a deep breath and turn on your camera as well. You’re lit up by the soft, warm light of a wall lamp. From your face, you move the camera down to show your collarbone, where a dark spot from the night before sat. You pulled aside the collar of your button-up shirt, revealing more of your cleavage. You hear how his breathing changes under your power and smile. You close your collar back up all the way, chuckling softly.

It’s quiet for a moment but then he says, “baby girl. You know what happens when you disobey me.”

“Yes,” you reply, moving the camera to your still smiling face.

“Did I not ask you to show me your body?”

“Yes,” you smirk.

He changes to the front-facing camera, showing his face. He looks at you, amused for a second. His tongue darts out and he licks his bottom lip in thought.

“Fine,” he says finally and his face falls into a scowl, “I suppose I’ll look for a more obedient girl then.”

The words sting more than you thought they would but perhaps that’s because you’re stupidly turned on.

“You know there’s plenty of girls who’d love nothing more than to pleasure me. Girls who know how to be good.”

Your smile has completely vanished now.

“I could have someone riding this dick in five minutes with just a quick phone call.”

Your blood starts to boil.

“So if you’re gonna be difficult—”

“No,” you interrupt before he can end the call.

“No what?” he demands.

“No don’t call someone else,” you answer, aware that he’s once again got you where he wants you.

“Why not?” he goes on, his face hard as stone still.

You feel so small for him. “I want to make you feel good.”

“You want to make me feel good?” he coos back at you and you nod, “are you gonna be a good girl then?”

You nod once more.

“I wanna hear it, baby girl.”

“Yes,” you let out in the tiniest voice, “I’ll be good I promise.”

He stares at you through the camera for a few seconds and your heart is racing, but then finally he agrees.

“Then take off your shirt.”

You move the camera down again and start unbuttoning your white work shirt, revealing a pink, lacy bra. You squeeze into your breast, knowing that’s what he’d be doing if he were there. He hums in approval as you make your way down until the shirt is open all the way.

“Show me your tits.”

You move aside your bra and before you’ve even taken out your boob he’s making more commands.

“Play with your nipple,” he breathes, “pinch it.” He flips his camera again so your phone screen now shows him stroking his hard cock.

You do as he says, sighing out at the sensation it sends down to your already needy core. Your fingers play with your nipple, reacting to his every instruction.

“Fuck,” he groans abruptly, “take off your pants. I need to see your pussy.”

His words set your body aflame. You’re once again very aware of where you are. If anyone found you here, boobs out, pantless you’d be in a world of trouble; not to mention you’d never be able to show your face in this bar again.

You let out the smallest whine, not knowing what to do.

He tuts his lips. “I thought you were going to be good today,” he says, still slowly pumping his length, “show me that wet pussy of yours baby,”

He was right, you were drenched at this point, which reminded you of how bad you wanted to touch yourself.

You set down the phone, propping it up against the chair that was on the table, and started unbuttoning your jeans. You shimmied out of them quickly but left your thong on for now because you knew he liked it and it made you feel more secure in the situation.

“Show me,” his voice called and you obeyed, taking the phone and pointing it towards your wet center. You hear his breath hitch in your ears. This spurs you on to run a finger up and down the fabric. The sensation of finally being touched is immense and you can’t keep in a moan.

“Good girl,” he says, “all wet for me.”

You blush but can’t stop yourself from running your fingers up and down your center. 

“I bet you wish those were my fingers, huh baby?” he says.

You only whine in response.

“You want my fingers stroking you up and down like that?”

You utter a breathy yes.

“You want me to pull those panties to the side?”

“Yes,” you reply, doing just as he says.

“You want my fingers fucking you nice and deep?”

“Fuck, yes,” you whisper, sticking two fingers in yourself at once.

On the other side of the phone, he groans in time with your moan.

“You’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you?” he says, his voice sounding like he’s murmuring directly into your ears, “you’re making a mess, fuck.” He’s started pumping himself with a bit more fervor now.

You moan out his name as you move your fingers in and out fast, unable to hold back any longer. The lewd, wet noises of your pleasure fill the air around you. 

“Yeah,” he groans, “tell me, who do you belong to?”

“You,” you reply at once, “I’m yours.”

“You’re my dirty little whore,” he goes on in pants, his hand moving faster and faster around his dick.

“Yes,” you moan, “I’m your whore, I’m yours, I’m—” you lose your train of thought as your pleasure heightens but he’s not stopping.

“Fuck yourself for me baby, fuck yourself like the slut you are, fuck—”

You let your thumb rub your clit in response, wanting to be whatever he wants you to be. Your moans grow louder and you completely forget where you were. All you know is him and his dick and your fingers and your pleasure.

“Cum for me baby,” he pants, “I wanna watch that pussy clench.”

Those words are too much. You gasp out as your orgasm hits you like a truck, then rolling over you in delicious waves. You grind your hips into your hand through it all until you hear his voice.

“Fuck, baby, fuck.”

You pull out your fingers and angle the phone so as to better show him what he’s done to you.

He continues slurring curses into your ears as he reaches his own high, strings of cum shooting out of him and landing on belly and torso.

It takes more than a moment for the both of you to come to. You kind of feel like taking a nap but then a loud crashing noise sounds from down below and you find yourself back in the bar.

“Shit.”

“You can say that again,” he chuckles, pulling his boxers back over his length.

“No,” you shake your head, “I need to go back to work, dumbass.” It sounded like someone had just broken a glass.

“Alright,” he replies, before letting out a yawn, “well, I’m gonna go to bed then.”

“Okay bye,” you say, already getting back into your pants. You hear the beep that indicates the end of the call and pull out your earphones.

Your coworker is cleaning up broken pieces of glass off the ground when you come back down.

“What took you so long?” she says affronted, but upon seeing your flushed face immediately follows up with, “I mean I hope it wasn’t anything too serious it’s just that it’s really hectic here and—”

“I’m fine,” you reply, feeling a tad guilty, “I’m sorry it took so long. Let me help.”

So you’d gotten away with it. Despite the slight guilt, the thought of what you’d just done made you feel disgustingly good.

You still definitely hated Christopher Bang for talking you into the whole thing though, and the fact that he always knew how to break you was starting to irk you more and more.

Perhaps it was time for you to turn the tables around?

[shawnies-girl]

hey that ck kitchen pic has got me wanting a “making breakfast and Shawn walks in” imagine so badly as cheesy as that is. idk if you do smut but that’d be a-ok with me (just pls don’t leave the food cooking on the stove lol) thank you thank you for being a blessing

Request combined with this: Plzzz write something about Shawn’s pictures for CalvinKlein cause DAMN could be abt ANYTHING just plz do it- @kurreapormaranet

Lazy Sunday

pairing: Shawn x reader

⇢ genre: smut that’s it lol it’s graphic so beware

⇢ summary: The morning after leads to something more in the early hours of the morning for Shawn and his girlfriend.

The sun cast a warm glow through the window in your bead room. Slowly opening your eyes to the haze you become aware of your surroundings. A montage of the happenings of last night replay over in your head. With a shiver You look down to see the covers are off and so are your underclothes, in-fact the clothing is in piles across the floor leading to the bead. To the side of you are tuffs of brown hair that belong to your boyfriend Shawn. Shifting in the bead closing your eyes again you bask in the feeling. No commitments for the next three days for either of you. Total bliss for 73 hours. You cant remember the last time you had that much time to yourselves. A shiver runs down your spine when Shawn shifts pulling you way from your thoughts.

The glow in the room gets brighter the longer you stay still and slip into sleep again. His arm moves across your body pulling you close. The warmth of his skin providing a feeling of security. Sadly you were unable to fall back asleep due to the soft gurgling in your stomach. Reluctantly you carefully free your tangled limbs. Your toes curl as they touch the cold ground. You turn to make sure Shawn is still sleeping and make your way to the kitchen. The moment you arrive in your kitchen your greeted with sunshine poring in the window. Opening the fridge you get out the ingredients to make some eggs. Setting the stuff on the counter you move to get the pan. A few minutes go buy and the stove is finally hot. You crack the eggs into the pan and discard the shells.

In the bedroom Shawn slowly stirs awake. The light in the room causing him to squint his eyes. Looking to your side of the bed he sees your gone. A brief look of confusion crosses his features as he sees your not next to him. He sits up in the bead still trying to wake up. As he looks around the room he’s reminded of last night. Your clothes from yesterday lay strobe across the floor in various piles along with his. All of this due to the busy evening you had together after he arrived home from the airport. Memories of limbs and lips clashing together form in his head making a warmth spread through his body. He finds himself so consumed in the memory that he doesn’t realize he’s gone hard in his boxers until he here’s clanking outside of the door. A heavy sigh fills the air as he moves to go to the bathroom.

As you finish the eggs and put them aside you here the opening and closing of a door. You smile knowing that Shawn is finally awake and you make some coffee for him to have when he comes out.

The machine beeps as it finishes the last few drops of the brown liquid. Bustling around the kitchen you get a mug and gather the cream and sugar. Slowly you add them to the coffee one by one.

Turning around you bump into something hard. You pause for a moment taking him in. Your eyes raking up and down his body your attention is grabbed by white fabric stretched across his hips covering his manhood.

“Like what you see?” He smirks.

Taking a look up you see Shawn’s face. His brown orbs peer into yours causing you to step back. Shawn does the same and leans against the counter. As his muscles flex with his movements the glow from the morning sun seems to get brighter. His hand rises and he moves his finger to gesture for you to come closer.

“C’mere” He says with a rasp in his voice from sleep.

You find your self migrating towards him like your magnets coming together. When you reach him you raise your arms and rub your hands on his chest. Feeling the warm flesh under your hand you move closer pressing your chest to his.

“What about the coffee I made and the eggs?” You said turning your head to look at the food on the table

“Fuck breakfast your the only thing I want right now.”

His hands slipped around your waist lifting you onto the counter. You look into his eyes as he leans in connecting his lips with yours. You gasp when you feel him bite your lip letting him deepen the kiss. He groans in response when you pull on his strands of hair. Moving his hands to your thighs he lifts you again braking the kiss. You tighten your legs around his waist.

Waisting no time he pushes the door open with his foot a makes his way to your bead. He sits down with you in his lap facing him. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck and the brush of his lips. His hands coming to rest on your ass as you grind into him. You hands move to the nape of his neck softly tugging on the strands of hair as he sucks a bruise on to your neck. Shawn parts from your neck and leans you back enough to remove his shirt that you slept in. Once the fabric is gone the cool air in the room hardens you nipples sending goosebumps down your back. “God, look at you, such perfect tits.” He says admiring you as you sit on his lap like it’s a throne. You keen into his touch as he brushes his thumb across one grazing your nipple. You continue to grind your hips into his to create friction. Your actions elect a soft groan from Shawn. Feeling his manhood get hard you slide back further down his legs into the floor. You set your hands on his thighs spreading his legs enough for you to fit in between. In front of you his manhood his hidden under the white fabric of his Calvin Klein boxers. You look into his eyes as you slip your fingers inside the boxers. Using both hands you pull them down to free his cock. As the elastic band passes it hits his stomach and stays laying on him. You reach for it and lightly squeeze eliciting a groan from Shawn. The noise gives you a boost in confidence and you take him into your mouth. Sweeping your tongue around the head and over the slit. Shawn can’t hold the sounds back. One hand behind his back he holds himself up and the other hand comes to rest on your head. Bobbing your head up and down his length you pump with your right hand. Your left hand rests on his thigh. Releasing him from your mouth you lick a stripe up from the base to the shaft and kiss the head and suck it back in your mouth. The warmth and wetness has Shawn squirming and grunting in place. Moving your left hand it stops on his balls and gives a gentle squeeze. A deep moan raises from his chest as you continue to blow him. Not much time passes until his moans get really loud. His hand in your hair begins to push you down on to him as he gets closer to releasing. Looking up at him and blinking through your lashes his eyes catch yours. With a couple more pumps and a deep moan around his manhood Shawn finds himself releasing into your mouth. “Oh…fuck.” You swallow around his cock and lift your head up looking into his eyes. Shawn swears he could get hard looking at you face after you just sucked him off. “Look at you princess.” He said lifting your chin. You got up off your knees and stood in front of him. “Turn for me baby.” He said as he leaned back in his spot. You but your lip as you twirled for him. His hands found themselves not your his as you faced him again. Pulling you in his lips captured yours in n a kiss. You hands placed on either side of his face. Your right leg lists on to the bed and your left on on the other side. Shawn bit onto your bottom lip and then moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there. Wanting to speed things up Shawn’s hands tug on your shirt. Getting the hint you leaned back and lifted the shirt up off of your frame. Tossing the shirt across the room you turned back to Shawn who was leaned back on his elbows watching you perched on his lap. His dick still sitting hard against his abdomen in between your thighs. You leaned forward planting a light kiss on his lips before you return to an upright position. Taking him in your hand you pump him a few times and rub him against you to make him slick.

Finally you line him up and sink down on to his lap. Something between a moan and a grunt leaves him as he bottoms out. Placing your hands on his chest you get some leverage to lift yourself up and you slam back down. This causes you to moan out loud. Shawn looks at you with pure adoration as you bounce up and down on his cock in a steady pace. “Oh, you feel so good Shawn.” You mumble. “Ugh, fuck so do you baby.” He covers his face as you pick up speed. Your pace falters however and to keep the pleasure going Shawn picks up the slack. Holding onto your hips he slams up into you. The change in pace causing you to wimpier and moan in response. “Oh my gosh.” You moan out. “Huh, you like that tell me how much you want to cum, hmm?” He reached for your bundled nerves between your legs and rubes circles into it. “How much do you want to come all over my cock.” He asks you as he continues to rub in circles. “Uhh, so bad. I wanna cum so bad.” You whine into his neck. You squeeze your walls as you find yourself nearing an orgasm. Shawn grunts as his thrusts get sloppy. His finger relentlessly rubbing into you. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You practically scream as his pace on your clit doesn’t slow. “Cum for me baby.” He says in your ear and almost instantly your body shudders as your orgasm hits you. Shawn gaveling not cum yet continues to thrust into you. “Please…it’s too much.” you say leaning to the side lifting your leg. Shawn is quick to move it back and reassure you he’s close. “I’m almost there princes hang on.” You moan in response. A second orgasm close because of the overstimulation. Your tighten your core and Shawn moans at the feeling. His abdomen tense as he’s about to release. “Please cum inside me.” You say looking him in the eyes. A grunt leaves his mouth before he thrusts back into you and releases his load in thick ropes. The feeling sending you over the edge and another shudder runs through your body. Not even bothering to get up you collapse on top of Shawn. He looked down at you and admires how beautiful his princes looked all fucked out. It’s like you have this glow and he can’t get enough of it.

After a few minutes you decide to move. “ I think it’s time to get some food.” You said standing a putting on your underwear. Shawn gets up fixing his Calvin Klein boxers before he lifts you up and plops you back into the midsize of the mattress. Curious you let him continue. He leaned down on the some of the bed and slides you closer to him and hooks his finger inside your underwear.

“I told you, fuck breakfast. The only meal I need is right here.”

[ramp-it-up]

Open The Bar

Pairing: Barkeep!Andy Barber x Reader x Barkeep! Frank (Endings, Beginnings)

Summary: You, Andy, and Frank become open about your relationship.

Part 10 of The Bar AU. Read the previous part, Raise The Bar.

Word count: 3K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk. ANGST, sexting, phone sex, Daddy kink, degradation kink, masturbation, double fingering, slapping, leather, chains, harnesses, naughty Halloween costumes, on the bar, mention of double penetration, threesome.

A/N: I. Just. Can’t. Stop. Thank you Alice @maladaptivexxdaydreaming for being my beta! 🥰 The artwork is just a representation of the idea in the story.

Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The week and a half after your dates with Andy and with Frank were full of anticipation. Your good morning texts turned into hints at your sexual fate.

From Andy:

You’re going to pay for working us up, Sweetheart.

Am I? Is that a promise or a threat?

Which one gets you wetter?

From Frank:

Good god woman. I’m dead. I’m dying. Jacking off with your panties Baby Doll…

Gonna cum all over them, then make you put them on and push all of that into my cunt.

I mean your cunt.

I mean our cunt.

You could only stare at the texts like a slut.

Are you slippery Baby Doll?

Are you touching yourself Sweetheart?

Just let us come over. We’ll overlook the fact that you tried to get a rise out of us.

That is if you want us to. I think you want certain things to rise.

Frank’s levity always balanced out Andy’s ominous nature.

You squirmed, wet as fuck and needy beyond words. You finally responded, thinking you had a suitable response.

If I let you put your hands on me again. This weekend was a slip up.

They were unfazed.

True. But lips and tongue is not a hand.

I’ll tie Andy’s hands to the bed and make you sit on his face as I fuck him senseless.

You’ll be begging for us to touch you.

You moaned out loud, thankful that they couldn’t hear you.

I’ll not beg.

You want to lay a wager? You in, Andy?

Andy’s hand had been occupied, ever since Frank inserted his lewd suggestion into the chat.

Oh Definitely. Because I know she wants it. She’s highly suggestible.

Isn’t that right, Sweetheart? After I suggested putting the tip in, you let Frank inside you.

Didn’t you? Oh, you’ll pay.

You couldn’t answer, just panted at the realization that you were being sexted by two men at the same time.

She barely let me in Andy... It was torture, had me cumming in seconds.

I would have loved to have tasted you, Baby Doll. Got me hard just remembering it, look.

Frank sent a dick pic to the group chat, large pink head glistening with precum and looking right at the camera on his phone to the delight of both you and Andy.

In response, Andy sent one of him stroking off, large hand around his even larger cock, shaft, tip, and balls glistening with lube. You sent back a voice memo.

“You both look delicious. Would love to have both of you in my…. anything right now.”

You sent them a picture of your pussy, two fingers in as deep as you could go. Your voice made Andy almost blow his load. Frank was feeling the same way.

Andy called you and Frank on threeway.

“Hello?”

The need and timidity in your voice made both men pulse in their hands, close to their highs.

“Is that for us? And did you say ‘Anything’, Sweetheart? Did you mean your mouth? Pull your fingers out of your pussy, stick them in your mouth and suck your juices off. Because that is what will be required of you with our dicks.”

The deep timbre of Andy’s voice made you huff harder as you did as you were told, imagining sucking them off at the same time. The slurping sounds of you obeying made Frank even harder.

“Fuck Baby Doll. Such a nastly little slut for us. Did you mean that you want both of us in your tight little pussy?”

Frank’s voice made you whine and whisper his name.

“Fraankkkk…”

Andy barrelled ahead.

“You know what I dream about Frank? It’s a bit extreme…”

He didn’t say it, but your imagination went reeling. They could tell by your silence save for the little huffs that you were trying to keep quiet.

“That would be hot, but fuck, I have waking dreams of you squirting in my mouth…”

Frank’s gravelly, lust filled voice was about to do you in.

“I love the way you two fucked me. I want that, I want to be used.”

“Shit! Sweetheart….”

Andy’s voice conveyed his need.

You were huffing and moaning, your fingers in your pussy and circling your clit; you were at the height of desperation.

“What are you doing, Baby Doll? Are you touching yourself again?”

You were silent, with tears in your eyes as you imagined them both inside you.

“Answer him!”

Andy’s order caused you to whimper as your wetness multiplied.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Frank’s praise made you keen. “Just don’t squirt again until I can get my mouth on you.”

“Oh shit!”

Andy wouldn’t let you recover from Frank’s verbal assault.

“I think the first time we have her again, we fuck both holes at the same time, get her loose, and then start training us to take us both in one…”

“Ohhhh, Andyyyyyyy!”

It took just a couple of minutes before you were cumming. You moaned loud and long as you came at the dirty, dirty thoughts they were putting in your head. You heard their curses as they grunted and groaned through their own orgasms.

“Just wait until Andy and I get you alone in a room.”

You could hear them both moving around, cleaning themselves up. You just lay on the phone, wanting their arms around you.

“You’ve broken us, Sweetheart. You know that right? We are completely and utterly ruined for anyone else but you. What do you want? What do you need for us to be together again?”

Andy was desperate to be official. Things were getting real.

“I want you both. Soon.”

“When can we see you again? Together?”

You shivered with anticipation and the after-effects of your orgasm. But you couldn’t be caught slipping.

“I’m busy this week. But I’ll be at the Halloween party next Friday.”

The annual party at The Bar was legendary. They were both quiet. They knew you were spooked.

“I have an idea for a…A costume for all of us.”

“Oh? Are you going to claim us in public?”

Frank was only halfway joking. It was one of the elephants in the room. But you were ready.

You smiled to yourself.

“Funny you should say that…”

You explained your idea, ignoring Andy’s groans and talking over Frank’s laughter. Finally, they agreed. In truth, they would have agreed to anything, they were so gone for you.

You got off the phone reluctantly, even though you would be late for work.

When they wished you a good day, you found yourself wishing that you were going to come home to them at the end of it.

Andy and Frank assailed you all week with a combined attack of erotic selfies, soul-rendering texts and promises that your pussy would be assaulted on sight. So you stayed away, not trusting your willpower.

On Halloween at The Bar, everyone got their costumes wrong. Andy and Frank didn’t correct anyone all night, just smiled and took their drink orders. They looked out of place, yet perfect next to each other behind the bar, and in fact your costume idea earned them extra tips.

They were on edge all night, waiting for you to make an appearance.

Finally, the bell on the door didn’t disappoint. You and your friends entered The Bar, and you were all their dreams were made of.

They saw your horns first, red and glittery, shining in your mass of hair, which was down your back and around your shoulders, straight and glossy for the night.

Your lips were red, matching the short leather dress you were wearing. Their eyes, and everyone else’s, were drawn to your lace up bustier top, your soft breasts barely contained within. Your legs were encased in black sandals, the long ribbons lacing up to your knees.

Both of their mouths dropped open as you approached, and everyone watched as you went behind the bar. You looked over your shoulder as they followed you into the back room.

“Well hellooo, Baby Doll.”

Frank was taking you all in and you could feel Andy’s vibe beside him.

“Hello.”

You smiled innocently and brought what you had out of your purse.

Andy started to sweat.

“You were serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

You looked at both men who were staring hungrily at you. They looked hot in black leather pants and black harnesses and nothing else. Your mouth watered at the sight before you, but you went on with your plan.

“If you could be good boys,” You got as close as you could to Frank and Andy without touching them, giving a view down your dress. “And stay in place,” you looked down at their black leather clad crotches. “We can have fun later.”

They didn’t answer you, just stared at you and made you squirm as they smiled.

“Let’s go.”

“I’m down.”

They were very agreeable. And not very talkative. You wondered what they were up to.

You took the leads in your hands and hooked them to the harnesses.

You took a deep breath and asked, “Are you ready?”

Andy and Frank smiled at you.

“Lead the way.”

“After you.”

You smiled and turned around, leading them back into the bar. It was you who wasn’t ready.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, talking, drinking, dancing, serving, and turned to look at you three. Your heart stopped when the noise did, wondering what made you come up with this idea. Then you looked back at your boys. You went forward and led them to the rail behind the bar, fastening the chain to it. They weren’t fixed in one spot and could move the length of the bar, but not from behind it.

Everyone watched as the boys obeyed you, and as you reached up, grabbed their face and gave each of them a deep kiss. They didn’t resist, and eagerly took what you had to offer, but they didn’t make any moves toward you either. You were a little disappointed, but you’d laid out the ground rules pretty clearly.

Pete cleared his throat.

“So what is this costume then?”

You looked him straight in the eyes.

“A succubus and her sex slaves.”

A slow clap began behind you and you turned to see Scott putting his hands together and encouraging others to join in. Soon, the whole joint was applauding and cheering.

You smiled and waved at Andy and Frank who had started to bartend again, cheeks slightly red but a twinkle in their eyes. You joined your friends and their chorus of “I knew it”s, and “I told you so’s” greeting you.

The night both dragged and flew by; you had fun with your friends, but were anticipating the night with Andy and Frank. You hardly looked at them for fear of how they and you would react to eye contact.

Closing time soon came and you waited patiently for Andy to count the till and Frank to help clean up. Scott and Pete got the deposit ready and bid you all goodnight.

“Have… fun!”

Pete’s eyebrow was raised as he and Scott chuckled their way out of the door.

You stood in between Frank and Andy’s warm bodies, feeling faint from want. You couldn’t wait anymore.

“So.. what do you want…”

Andy raised his finger to his lips, drawing your attention there and silencing you.

“Listen before you speak. We want you to be certain of what you ask.”

The care they had for you was the ultimate aphrodisiac. The thought of that sent your skin into goose bumps and made your nipples hard.

Frank advanced toward you, licking his lips as his eyes takes along your body.

“We want to take care of you right here, Baby Doll. But you’ve got to ask.”

Andy eyed you from two feet away. You remembered your big talk and jokes of a wager but you no longer cared about your pride.

“I want you both. Now. Please, I need you to touch me.”

You looked up at them under your lashes.

“Do you want me to get on my knees to beg?”

Frank groaned. “Fuck yes, Baby Doll. But not here.”

He moved toward you first, reaching out to start unlacing your bodice. When the string was loose, he lifted you up and sat you on the bar.

Andy hung back and watched you and Frank, not for certain that this was real. He couldn’t believe it.

“Damn, you’re so beautiful.”

You and Frank looked over at him, and Andy flushed, not realizing that he said it aloud.

You smiled and Frank responded.

“She sure is.”

He reached out for you slowly as you nodded at him, giving him permission to expose you.

Frank peeled the leather away from your skin and your breasts spilled out, warm and soft against the red leather.

Andy moved closer and caressed your nipple, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“You like that, Sweetheart?”

You could only nod.

“We only want to make you feel good.” His lips descended toward the top of your breasts, kissing tenderly. “But remember, you did say that you wanted to be used.”

You shivered.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Andy’s praise and his smile was everything.

Frank’s fingers were tracing the lips of your pussy through your leather thong.

“Andy and I have been dreaming of paying you the attention you deserve, from both of us.”

Frank’s eyes held yours as he lowered his head to your breast as he fingered you, those lips encasing your hard bud. You were watching him, so you felt Andy before you saw him, his red lips and tongue beginning to pull at your other nipple.

“Ohhhhh, shittttt!”

You put your hands in their hair as they sucked at your breasts eagerly. You arched your back, causing you to shift on the bar as Andy’s finger slid inside you next to Frank’s. The full feeling was heaven along with the nipple stimulation.

Andy looked up and released your nipple with a pop. You noticed that his face had changed as he reached up and smacked your cheek, the smart of it causing you to clamp down and gush over their fingers.

“Stay still. You agreed we could have our fun. You have to take it.”

Andy was totally Daddy now and that voice was in control of you.

“O- okay.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s better.”

Andy went back to sucking your breasts, Frank holding, molding, and squeezing your breasts for both of their mouths. Andy moved to put his other hand on your ass to keep you still while their fingers pushed inside you on either side of your panties, having you make a mess on the bar.

Frank looked up as you were writing on the limited confines of what they gave you, lips wet with saliva.

“You gonna cum with us both inside you? Right now it’s just our fingers. Tell us what else you want.”

Andy looked up and started twisting your nipples as you writhed under their gaze.

“Tell us how cum hungry you are.”

You could barely speak, but you did as you were told, the sound of the light chain moving as they did what they wanted adding to the mood.

“I want you to fuck me Andy. And then I want Frank to fuck me. I want you to take turns using me as your cumslut. Then I want you both inside my holes, filling me up.”

Frank’s eyes almost closed as he felt your pussy clench around thier fingers.

“You do, don’t you? You want that.”

“Yessss!”

“It’s amazing how fucking perfect you are…”

Frank buried his face in your neck, starting to mark you up good.

“You belong to us? So that we can use you however we see fit?”

Andy was in heaven watching you and Frank. He maneuvered his pinkie to ghost over your other hole.

“Oh god, yes!”

You were staring to pulse around their fingers and they knew you were close.

“So, if we told you not to cum right now, you’d hold it?”

Frank’s mouth went to your nipple again and scraped it with his teeth.

“I— I can’t!”

“You better fucking hold it!”

Andy grabbed your face and squeezed as he watched Frank suck your nipple.

“That mouth is talented, isn’t it? Bet you wanna see it wrapped around my cock.”

You closed your eyes, as if that could shut out the sound of Andy’s words and their effect on your brain.

Frank bit your nipple lightly and groaned.

“Feel how tight she is. Can hardly move our fingers.” Frank looked you in the eye.

“Did you forget how to take our cocks? Might as well cum…”

Before he could finish, you released and shook uncontrollably, allowing the waves of pleasure to wash over you. Frank and Andy held you, making sure you were safe.

“…On our fingers Baby Doll.”

“So fucking eager.” Andy glared at you. “Will you be as eager when we punish you with our cocks?”

Frank chuckled and licked his hand as Andy admonished you.

“I deserve to be punished, Daddy. I’ve been bad.”

Andy’s jaw clenched at your response.

“Oh, it’s guaranteed Sweetheart.”

He grabbed your face and pulled you into a ferocious kiss that had you clenching anew. He slotted himself between your legs as Frank stood beside you and brought Andy’s hand up to his mouth to suck you off of his fingers. He used his other hand to pull your hair making you expose your neck to Andy, who promptly licked you from collarbone to chin. You whimpered.

“Give me the key, Baby Doll.”

You obeyed, sliding the key to the chains out of a small pocket on your dress. Frank unlocked himself and Andy, carefully winding the chain around his hand.

“This will come in handy for both of you cocksluts. Let’s go, Andrew.”

Andy lifted you off the bar and over his shoulder, carrying you like a sack of potatoes up the stairs to his apartment.

Let me know if you liked it by liking, commenting and reblogging! -DJ

[kpopfanfictrash]

Drawing Darcy

Rating: PG (part of the scenario ask game)

Word Count: 3,071

Summary:  Tae loves taking random photos of you secretly, and one day when you're looking through his phone you find out

Taehyung’s hair is slightly fuzzy on the back of his neck. 

The cut is messy, blending into the peach of his skin but you cannot tell him this, because then he would know you were staring. Right now, you are supposed to be looking at the professor’s slide deck, not at Taehyung but, sneaking another glance, you confirm this fact to yourself. Yes, definitely fuzzy.

Slouching lower, you drum your pen against the paper and pretend to be paying attention to the board when really, all you cant think about is him.

Him, meaning Taehyung. Your best friend, Taehyung, with the too-long fringe in the back. Taehyung, who is squinting up at the slides because he forgot his glasses in the dorm and cannot be bothered to grab them. Your best friend, Taehyung, who has no idea you are looking at him because your best friend, Taehyung, has no idea you like him.

It started out innocently enough, as most things do. He was the friend of a friend, the boy who roomed with the boy you crushed on freshman year. Each time you went over he would be present, hanging off the edge of his bunk bed and throwing out suggestive comments with the arrogance of someone who knows they will get away with it. When you and Taehyung’s roommate began to date, you wound up spending more time with Taehyung than anyone else. His roommate worked out a lot, was captain of the crew team and spent most of his free time in various states of gym clothes.

While you waited for your boyfriend to come home from practice (or ‘bulking up,’ as he called it), you would be in his room, sprawled out on their futon, eating their chips and inevitably watching Taehyung play video games out of boredom. He was fun to be around because you could pretty much tell him anything and he would just grunt and agree. You ended up telling him more than you meant to – and one day, you realized he was listening.

“It’s just...” Sighing, you dug around in the bag for that perfect crinkle-cut. “I feel like I have to filter everything I say around him. Anytime I give my actual opinion, he looks at me like I’m crazy – which drives me crazy. I have opinions!” you declared, waving the chip. “I have a lot of them and true, not all of them are winners, but I wish he didn’t make me feel so –”

“Y/N,” Taehyung interrupted, tossing his controller aside.

You blinked. You had never seen Taehyung stop playing like that. The game was still happening, his character getting pulverized onscreen but he turned roughly to face you. 

“Taehyung, what are you doing?”

“Break up with him,” he demanded, completely serious.

“I – what?” you gaped. Taehyung was your boyfriend’s roommate, his friend – the turn of events was startling, to say the least.

Taehyung flicked the hair from his eyes. “I’ve been sitting here for months, listening to everything wrong about your relationship and while, yeah, everyone bitches about their significant other – not this much,” he informed, slightly red in the face. “It sounds like he’s a real dick, most of the time. Even if he’s my friend, that doesn’t give him a free pass and you deserve better.”

That was it. 

Taehyung picked up the remote, sunk back into his game and you sat there, staring at him on the couch. Even after you and his roommate did break up (Taehyung was right, he was a prick), the two of you remained friends. 

Which brings you full-circle to today’s state of affairs. You are completely, totally in love with your best friend and he has no idea.

It is not your fault, honestly. It is Taehyung’s fault, with his stupid, square smile and that stupid, high brow and his stupid, smooth skin. He has this way of making you feel at ease with just a look or a word, or a weird quirk of his eyebrows. It is his fault you like him, because Taehyung is perfect. Okay, maybe not perfect. Perfect is a dangerous word, as Taehyung likes to say. He laughs at your books and TV shows, since you tend you slot yourself with the hopeless romantics of the world – the ones who sit waiting for their perfect white knight, an ideal which Taehyung continuously scoffs at.

“None of those guys are real,” he chided you once, poking your sketchbook with his big toe. “You’re so obsessed with drawing that one guy – what’s his name, again?”

“Mr. Darcy,” you responded, automatic. “The Colin Firth version, not the reboot.”

“Right.” Taehyung arched a brow. “He’s not real, Y/N.”

“Oh?” Ignoring this, you continued to sketch – that was your major, after all. A graphic designer, always half-in and out of reality. “No shit, he’s a fictional character. He’s one I happen to like, though.”

“A romantic, idealistic character who urges the female population to buy into this notion that hey! That guy’s an ass but maybe he’s just misunderstood and maybe he likes me and how romantic,” Taehyung batted his eyelashes in your direction, “that all is!”

“Shut up,” you grunted, continuing to sketch. “Until I can find a normal guy who makes my heart flutter like he does, I’m going to continue to draw Darcy.”

Glancing down at your notebook, you quickly shut it, since it is all filled with Taehyung.

Taehyung stands from his seat, stretching both arms overhead and it seems almost on purpose – the bottom of his shirt rides up to reveal a tan, flat strip of stomach. You look quickly away. Taehyung is not perfect. He is better. He is real and solid and entirely human. He is different from you, always keeping you on your toes and making you discover things about yourself you did not think possible. 

Taehyung is a business major of some sort, with a minor in Photography and while you always carry a sketchbook and pencils, he is continually lugging around a giant camera for ‘spontaneous brilliance.’

Like now. Taehyung finishes stretching, lowering his camera over the panes of his chest. He looks at you, quirking a brow. “That was boring,” Taehyung complains, watching students stream by. “Probably the worst lecture of the past three months, what do you think?”

Trying not to smile, you follow him up the steps of the lecture hall. “Oh, I don’t know. The one on endocrinology was stranger.”

“Really?” Taehyung pushes open the door. “I thought that one was interesting.”

“Well, sure.” You nod, tucking your sketchbook away. “What was weird is that it took place in Theology 101.”

“Ah, true.” Taehyung grins, spinning when you exit the quad. “Smile,” he instructs, snapping a pic. “Fuck, blurry.”

“Taehyung,” you groan, shoving both hands in between you. “Stop! I barely put on make-up this morning.”

“And still.” Taehyung snaps another pic. “You look ravishing. Oh – damn. Blurry again.”

“Lord,” you laugh, pushing past him. “I have to get to Anthro – see you later! We’re still on for dinner, right?” you ask, turning around as you walk.

“Yeah,” Taehyung nods, still observing his camera. “Meet at my dorm room, okay?”

“See you then!”

Walking away from him, you clutch your drawings tighter. You are not sure when the drawings began turning to Taehyung. There was a night last year, when you woke around 3:00 AM but, instead of doodling Darcy as usual, found the head shape you drew to be oddly familiar. Still half asleep, you squinted at the lines flowing forth until the portrait was complete and you sat frozen in shock.

It was Taehyung. Your favorite Taehyung, with his hair messy and shirt misbuttoned – which brought on another wave of shock, realizing you had a favorite Taehyung to draw. Fingers trembling, you set down your pencils and burrowed deep in your pillows. Sleep did not come easily that night, since although the sketch came out in perfect clarity, your thoughts certainly were not. You liked Kim Taehyung, but he was your best friend.

That was the first sketch you made of him, but it was not the last.

Taehyung’s dorm room is on the fourth floor of Sorin dorm, all the way at the end after three flights of stairs. He chose this room on purpose, since it is a turret and despite Taehyung’s hatred of romantic heroes, he certainly likes to act like one. The first time you visited, he sat hunched in his chair, all the blinds drawn while he stared at his table.

“Y/N,” he declared as you entered. A thin smile stretched his lips, nodding to himself. “Excellent, excellent. I knew it was you.”

“No shit, Taehyung.” Rolling your eyes, you closed his door. “Who else visits you?”

“Ladies,” he drawled, swirling a photo in the chemicals before him. Taehyung did not do that often, but occasionally he went for the darkroom effect. It explained all the blinds at least, which was a small relief. “I’m incredibly popular with the ladies.”

Thinking about this now, you push open the door to his room. It is empty, but you know on Wednesdays and Fridays Taehyung has a class which sometimes runs late. It is not concerning for you to be alone in his room; the two of you are close enough by now, that this hardly matters. Lowering your bag to his floor, you plop down on his bed and place your sketchbook before you.  

Starting to shade in his jaw, you lose track in your work. It might be risky, working on a drawing of your best friend when he could walk in any moment – but Taehyung is smart enough not to look at your sketchbook. He learned this lesson firsthand when he tried to steal your notebook freshman year and you jabbed a pencil into his side. 

Eraser first, yeah, but he got the point (ha).

There are just a few features left you find hard to draw – his eyes, for one. Taehyung’s eyes are crescent-like when he smiles, scrunched in when he laughs but always alive, always expressive. It can be hard to capture on the page and – oh, shit. A muffled thud hits the floor, caused by your foot lashing out. Leaning over the comforter, you see Taehyung’s phone on the ground.

Frick. Sitting up and forgetting your work, you glance at his door, which is closed. Taehyung must have forgotten his phone before class – lord knows he would forget his head if it was not screwed on straight. Bending to grab the device, you flip it over in your palm – only to freeze, seeing the wallpaper before you. 

Curious, you swipe right on his phone. Taehyung really needs to update his passwords, you think, keying in the birthday of his mom. The intrusion is worth it though, when his phone is open and you can see clearly the face of his background.

It is you. Or – it is you, but not a photo you remember him taking. It is none of the ones from the quad, nor of the cheesy shots he forces you to take in the classrooms. You sit in your room, it seems – yes, that is the corner of your dresser, there – and are immersed in your drawing, lower lip held between teeth. Your expression seems softer, as it is one you have never seen on yourself. Then again, you have never seen yourself drawing before.

Without understanding why, your thumb hovers over the album icon on his phone. This is wrong, it is a complete invasion of privacy but for some reason, you click anyways. Unsure what you are looking for, you flick through his photos – until you find an album that stops you, staring down at the title.

Y/N, Candid.

Slowly, you press on the square and photos fill the screen, leaving you speechless. You dazedly swipe right, one after the other. There is one of you sitting, brow furrowed while attempting to play Taehyung’s video games. There is one of you in a park, bent over with laughter while Taehyung makes fun of your stride. So many photos, each one unique, each one different and none of them – none of them you can remember him taking.

“Oh, fuck.”

Head jerking up, his phone slips through your grasp. It clatters aimlessly against the floor while Taehyung stands framed in the doorway. 

“Uh. Hey, Taehyung!”

He does not move, gaze traveling from your hand to his phone. “Is that…” He halts, shaking his head. “Is that my phone?”

“What, this?” you blurt, bending to scoop it up from the ground. “No – this is just a square, silvery mobile device. That… you use as a phone.”

Taehyung blinks. He adjusts the strap of his camera. “Were you… were you looking through my phone, Y/N?”

You hesitate because on the one hand, Taehyung saw you. On the other hand, blind denial is always good. “No.”

Slowly removing his camera, Taehyung places this down on his desk. He stares for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh,” he exhales, glancing at you. “I don’t know how to put this. I have a lot of photos on my phone, a lot of ongoing projects and well, some of them are… personal.”

Managing a nod, you push to your feet. “Right.” Swallowing hard, you shove your sketchpad into your bag. “Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. I – uh, Taehyung I want to stay for dinner, but I actually just stopped by to say –”

When you attempt to leave, his hand closes over your upper arm. “Hey,” Taehyung breathes, effectively stopping you.

Freezing, you stare at the wood wall of his dorm. “What,” you mutter, still trying to make sense of it all. Taehyung has photos of you on his phone. An entire album of photos, ones taken when you were not looking and you do not understand why he would do that.

Slowly – gently – Taehyung turns you to face him. “I know you saw the album.”

Looking up, you cannot respond because yes, you saw but you still do not understand. “I saw,” you admit, meeting his gaze.

Taehyung’s eyes widen. Quickly, he lets go of your arm and steps backwards. “You saw?” 

“You – what?” you respond, suddenly confused. “You said that you knew!”

“Well, yeah, I said that, but...” Taehyung trails off, stunned. ���I wasn’t sure. I was trying to find out!”

“Well,” you sputter, crossing your arms over your chest. “You should have just asked!”

“I did! You lied!”

“Oh, right!” you yell back, the room falling silent between you.

Taehyung stares, slightly wild-eyed. “I,” he hesitates. “I can explain.”

The image of you sleeping sprawled on his couch comes to mind and you blush, remembering the drool hanging from the corner of your mouth. “Those moments were private,” you complain. “Taehyung, there are photos of me sleeping! There are photos of me at the gym, doing drunk karaoke, stuffing my face with burgers! Private moments,” you hiss, “between you and me! Those weren’t meant for your photography class, or whatever.”

“I know,” Taehyung nods, expression wretched. “Those pictures weren’t for my class, I swear it! No one has ever seen them but me.”

“No one has ever seen them but you,” you repeat, shaking your head. “What are you talking about? If no one has ever seen them, what were they for?”

“Me!” Taehyung yells – wincing, he lowers his voice. “They were for me,” he repeats, softer.

Staring back at him, it feels as though all the wind has been punched from your chest. “I – what?”

“They were for me,” he admits, flushing. “God.” Taehyung groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing. I like you, okay? I like you, Y/N,” he mumbles in-between fingertips. “I took all those photos because I like you, Y/N and you inspire me, and I just like all the ways that you look.”

“You…” This does not make any sense. It is ridiculous because Taehyung, your best friend, does not think of you like that. You would have known, somehow. You would have seen. “You... like me.”

“Yes.” Taehyung groans, face still covered by his hands. “I liked you from the minute I saw you but you were dating my roommate, and then we were just friends and now we’re still just friends – which is okay! It’s cool, it’s just... I also want to hold your hand and shit. I don’t know,” he exhales, dropping his hands to look at you. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have found out like that.”

“No,” you repeat, stunned. You want to move closer, but seem to be rooted to the carpet. “I shouldn’t have found out like that... I should have told you I liked you a long time ago.”

Now it is Taehyung’s turn to be confused. “You… what?”

“I like you,” you breathe, dropping your bag to the ground. Yanking free your notebook, you thrust this into his arms. “Look,” you nod, bracing yourself for the motion. “Look at my drawings, all of them. I won’t stop you.”

Taehyung frowns, not understanding until he flips open your notebook. Then he pauses, eyes wide as he stares down at his face – and flipping the page, he sees the panes of his back. The curves of his shoulders, the white fabric of his shirt. Taehyung quickly inhales in amazement.

“You,” he blinks, hand splayed on the page. “You draw… me?”

“Yes.”

Taehyung looks up in shock. “These are beautiful.”

“Well,” you stutter, glancing away. “That’s debatable. I do think you’re beautiful though, so... there’s that.”

“You... do?”

When you look up, Taehyung has set your sketchbook aside. Gently – lovingly, because he knows how much it means to you – but right now you do not care, because the way he looks at you means more.

“Well, yeah,” you stumble. “I think everything you do is amazing, and –”

Taehyung steps forward and kisses you. His lips are soft, open and you feel yourself melting. You feel yourself falling, even though you have already fallen. Hands rising to wrap around his neck, you pull him close and Taehyung lets out a groan. He walks you back towards the wall, body curving over yours, mouth opening while his tongue flicks to find yours.

There is always that kiss in your life. That one which defines all others, makes you realize you have never been truly kissed and for you, this is that kiss. Just the way Taehyung breathes, a sound hiccuped between movement, or the way he touches you, as though afraid you might fall through his grasp. It makes you want more, makes you want him and by the time he pulls back, you feel drunk on his lips.

“Taehyung,” you exhale, forehead bent to his own.

Taehyung’s lips brush your brow, then your nose. “Y/N,” he whispers. “You have no fucking idea, how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Oh?” you return, tightening your hands on his neck. “About as long as I have, I’d imagine.”

“Longer.”

“You wish.”

“Longer.”

He kisses you again.

[my-proof-is-you]

I Hate You, I Love You - Ch. 3

Summary:  It had been over a year since you had hunted with the Winchester brothers. You had felt you couldn’t hide your feelings anymore, so you left. While you were gone, life had been anything but good. When you meet up with the brothers again, you can’t resist staying with them. But your feelings for Dean are far from gone, and you’re afraid the pattern will remain the same. Can you hide what happened to you last year from the boys, or will the past come back to haunt you?

WARNINGS: Rape/Non-Con, mentions of graphic violence, torture

**I do not own the gifs or pics

Masterlist

Dean

Dean woke feeling warm and extremely comfortable. And…

Uh-oh.

He was pressed up against you. He had apparently turned and spooned you in his sleep. And now he had a little issue happening downtown.

Fuck. I really hope she’s still asleep. Otherwise, she’s gonna think I’m so creepy.

Dean slowly extracted himself from around you, glad when you didn’t stir. He got up and nearly ran to the bathroom, trying to hide himself in case you or Sam woke up.

When he got to the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror, leaning on the sink. Though you were just friends, he couldn’t help the reaction his body had to you. In the time you had been apart, you had changed just a little bit. You were definitely a little older-looking, but in a good way. Your features had matured some. You looked like a woman, and it showed in your body.

Dean had always kind of seen you as a little sister, but now...that definitely wasn’t the case.

Not that it matters. I’m pretty sure she barely tolerates me, let alone liking me like that.

Dean splashed some water on his face before going back out to the main room. When he did he saw that you and Sam had both woken up, and by the way you smiled when you saw him, you didn’t seem to be creeped out by him.

“Mornin,” Dean said, walking over to his bag.

“Good morning,” you said cheerily from your spot sitting on the bed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Sam replied.

“Yeah, I guess I got a pretty good night’s sleep,” you said.

Dean turned to look through his bag so you wouldn’t see his blush. He had slept pretty damn well, too. And he was pretty sure it had something to do with the snuggling.

“So, do you guys plan on heading out today?” you asked, petting Charlie’s head.

Dean felt a little jolt of disappointment at the words. He had forgotten that the three of you weren’t together before this. He had been having such a good time hunting as a team again.

Stop being such a pussy. You knew she wouldn’t want to leave with you.

Dean physically shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. Man, I need to get laid.

He looked to Sam, who seemed like he didn’t want to leave you either.

“Y/N...why don’t you come with us? we have a place we sort of inherited recently, and there’s plenty of room. We could definitely use you in our hunts,” Sam said.

“I don’t know…I don’t want to impose or be a tag-along,” you began, clearly hesitant.

“You wouldn’t be. We really missed you, and we would love for you to come back with us,” Sam said.

Thank God for Sam and his mushy feelings crap. I could never say something like that.

You looked at Charlie, considering your options. You looked like you really wanted to say yes, but something was holding you back. In fact, for the first time Dean noticed that you looked almost...broken.

“Well, I guess I can for now,” you said. Dean felt his heart leap in excitement but quickly pushed it away. Surely he was just excited to get to hang out with a close friend again, right?

You smiled and looked to Dean, who realized a little too late that he had a goofy grin on his face. He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, but you better keep that mutt from leaving any ‘presents’ in my baby,” he said roughly.

Your face fell a bit. God, I am such a dick.

Dean shook off the thought. “Let’s get going, kids. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us,” he said, putting the rest of his stuff in his bag. He just wanted to get behind the wheel of his car before he said or did anything else that was stupid.

You

Hey there, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?

You gasped and shot up quickly from your position leaned against the window in the back seat. You had left the car you had in favor of riding with the boys to Kansas. It was just as well—it was stolen anyway.

“You okay?” Sam asked from the front seat. Charlie stuffed his nose under your hand to get you to pet him—something that actually calmed you down, which he knew.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a weird dream,” you said, stroking Charlie’s head. Your heart rate returned to normal and you turned toward the window, closing your eyes for a moment. The men when back to their conversation.

Every time you thought or dreamed about that night it was like it was happening all over again. The nightmares were the worst. You had spent many a night lying awake in bed, tears streaming down and unable to sleep after dreaming in broken images from that horrifying night last year. You silently shamed yourself for falling asleep when everyone else was awake.

You looked toward the front seat and saw Dean watching you in the rear view mirror, concern on his face. It quickly changed to a smile as he pulled up to what you assumed was the ‘bunker.’

“Home, sweet home!” He exclaimed.

The bunker was insane, and you loved it. It was like a hunter’s dream home. You had spent nearly two hours exploring the vast rooms, twisting hallways, and the enormous library.

Sam and Dean gave you a room between theirs, which had a queen sized bed big enough for you and Charlie. You set down your duffel, not bothering to unpack. You weren’t even sure how long you would be there, as much as you’d like to live in the awesomeness that was the bunker forever.

You sat down on the bed, stroking Charlie’s favorite spot on his back again. You took a deep breath in. You knew that the year you were apart hadn’t done anything for your feelings for Dean. If anything, they grew stronger because you missed him. You lowered your head, feeling defeated.

After a moment, your head shot up.

Why should I feel like this? I was a coward when I was with the boys before. I let everything he did get to me.

Not this time.

You resolved to not go back to feeling that way again. If Dean didn’t want you, then fine. You would just show him what he’s missing and find something better. Or just be single and have fun. He certainly wasn’t afraid to do that.

You got up from the bed and went out into the hallway.

“Hey! What do you boys say we go out for celebratory drinks after that hunt?”

Both men poked their heads out of their rooms and agreed. You turned back into your room to start getting ready.

I’m going to have some fun tonight, you promised yourself.

[violetsmoak]

no safety or surprise [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035168/chapters/42616919

( See First Chapter for full Disclaimers & Warnings)

Summary: A haunting broadcast reveals the Joker’s final act and sets off a chain of events that will destroy the world. Terry finds himself collaborating once more with the estranged members of Bruce’s former team. As the end nears, however, he and the other Bats are faced with hard choices about survival—and forgiveness.

Rating: T (may change depending on the amount of graphic/details I decide on)

________________________________________________________________

chapter one: the calm before the storm

Neo-Gotham, Friday, June 13, 2042 9:04 AM

MCGINNIS

Siblings, Terry thinks as he scowls down at the little gremlin on the couch, are highly overrated.

At some point, while he was getting ready for school, Matt snuck into his room and stole his comforter. The twip is now wrapped up like a giant burrito, watching television and pretending he doesn’t see Terry’s irritated expression.

“Don’t you have your own?” he grumbles. “You’re going to get your sick germs all over it.”

“You can just wash it later.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I think it’s cute,” Mom interrupts, stopping the fight in its tracks the way she always does. She doesn’t look up from her phone, thumb flying through a text. “And you used to do the same thing, by the way.”

Terry blinks. “I did not.”

“You did. With mine and your father’s bedspread. That, and homemade soup? Always made you feel better when you were sick.”

Which, okay, Terry can sort of remember that.

There was something safe about being wrapped in blankets that smelled like Dad’s aftershave and having Mom spoil him with food made just for him. A pang of sadness hits him, leeching away from his irritation; Matt was never able to do that. Their parents divorced rather soon after he was born, and Dad wasn’t around Matt much afterward, let alone when he was sick.

Since Warren McGinnis’ death, Terry is the only adult male presence his brother has in his life.

And I’ve done a pretty crap job of that so far.

He’s always so busy, working for Mr. Wayne on and off the books. The criminal element in Gotham makes it practically impossible to maintain connections outside the life.

It’s ironic that Batman is better at being a role-model for Matt than Terry is.

The fight drains out of him, and he gives a put-upon sigh. “Fine. He can have it. But if I get sick, I’m going to hang him over the balcony by his feet." He turns away, but knows Matt is sticking his tongue out at the back of his head; it’s what he’d do at that age. “So, what’s the verdict? Staying? Going?”

Whatever Matt has, their mother seems to be coming down with as well. She’s been debating all morning about whether she intends to go into work or not. Terry’s stuck around, in case she does decide to go, and he has to watch Matt; he can Livestream his classes, she can’t exactly do the same for her job.

“I don’t know,” Mom says, frowning at the screen. “Jarvis and Riley are out today too apparently.”

Terry whistles; he’s happy he hasn’t caught whatever’s going around. It’s still the cold part of June, around the time when the temperatures fluctuate between mild and freeze-your-nuts off. Mom always tells him how when she was a young girl, the weather already started warming up in May, but because of global warming summer doesn’t really arrive until July.

So now, June is the summer flu season.

Point being, I could still catch it. And won’t that be fun.

Because Batman doesn’t get sick days, and Terry knows from experience that having a cold while wearing the cowl is probably the most disgusting feeling ever. And that includes wading through sewage and cleaning rotten food out of the refrigerator.

While Mom continues to debate with herself, he fires off texts to Dana and Max, asking them to cover anything he misses for the first period, in case he’s late. There are about ten seconds before he gets a response from Max.

‘No problem. Is it work? Or work?’

Before he can respond, Dana’s text comes in. ’everything OK w/ mr wayne?’

And he can’t help a smile at that, because he doesn’t have to make up any kind of lie or excuse, because they both know. He’s still getting used to the fact that Dana knows, and that she understands. And wants to help.

It’s more than he ever thought he’d get when he started this whole thing.

‘Wayne OK far as I know,’ Terry texts them both back, mentally crossing his fingers that he isn’t jinxing anything. ‘Mom & Matt not feeling great. Keeping an eye on them a bit.’

‘aw, sux. tell them feel better from me. dnt worry, got u covered! <3’

There’s a minute or so before Max responds.

‘Too bad. Nasty flu this year, huh? Not feeling great either, but test period 2, so…’

Terry’s eyes widen. ‘Wait. What test?’

‘LOL.’

‘Srsly, what test?!?!’

There’s no answer, and Terry frowns down at his phone, trying to decide if Max is messing with him or not. He’s about to double-check with Dana when his mother speaks.

“I think I will stay home,” she decides, rubbing her cheekbones. “My face hurts. I really hope it’s not another sinus infection. That’s all I need on top of everything.”

“Hey, take it easy,” Terry tells her with a comforting smile. “It’s been a while since you had the day off. Besides, the world’s not going to shut down because one astronomer doesn’t come into work.”

“You say that now,” Mom says dryly. “If an asteroid is hurtling toward the earth and it’s my job to spot it, you’re going to feel pretty foolish.”

“Nah, never happen.” He grabs his bag and starts for the door, stopping to press a kiss to the top of his mother’s head. “With Superman out there? And the Justice League? Pretty good job security, I’d say.”

“Lame,” Matt grumbles from his blanket cocoon. “Batman can take them all. He probably has a special rocket to shoot stuff down.”

And, okay, maybe Terry might rethink his stance on siblings, because damn if those words don’t make him grin.

Matt notices and frowns at him. “Why are you smiling at me like a creeper?”

And, there goes that good feeling.

“Trying to decide whether to take a pic and send to your friends and show them how pathetic you are right now. You’re like a human-larva hybrid. It’s gross.”

“Yeah, well—well, you’re adopted!”

That’s his latest insult to everyone when he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Matt!”

“At least I was planned,” Terry retorts.

It takes a moment before the penny drops, and his brother’s overly pale face goes red. “Moooooom!”

“Terry, leave your brother alone, he’s sick,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s his excuse for the rest of the time?”

“Go to school, hon.”

Matt smirks at him, and returns his attention to the television, flipping through cartoons. Terry rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything about favoritism, because it always comes back to how he’s an adult now and should know better than to stoop to the level of a ten-year-old. 

I can win a fight against the deadliest member of the Society of Assassins, but not this. Go figure.

“Will Mr. Wayne need you today?” Mom asks as he puts on his jacket. He knows she’s wondering if he’ll be able to come home and relieve her from Matt-duty at some point, which he totally understands.

“We’ll see. I’ll probably drive out to check on him tonight, but I think I can get home after school if you need a break.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“Do you want me to bring you guys anything while I’m out—?”

There is a sudden, sharp drop in pitch throughout the entire house. Terry’s ears pop a little, the same way they do whenever Shriek mutes the sound in the surrounding area, but somehow his hearing simply becomes sharper now.

Before Terry can wonder if it’s a sign the sound-terrorist is back out on the street, the living room is filled with music. A jaunty, haunting carnival tune that instantly has the hair on the back of Terry’s neck raising.

His gaze whips to the television screen, which is flickering between static and a blank screen with the words HA HA HA flashes across it in red.

His mouth goes dry.

________________________________________________________________  

WAYNE

Bruce is starting to wonder if a Lazarus Pit might not have been a better idea than the liver transplant. Of the methods for artificially prolonging life, at least with the Pit, he would eventually start to feel like he was recovering.

After the madness subsided, at least.

On days like today—when it’s damp and chilly, and there’s nothing going on in Gotham to keep him glued to the computer screen in the Cave—it’s hard to remember the arguments he’s always made against using the restorative powers of a Lazarus Pit. His body protests with every movement as he eases it through several slowed kata variations. Part of his physical therapy, as suggested by his doctors.

Since his procedure, he feels the exhaustion much more keenly. It’s bone-deep fatigue that seeps into every muscle, emphasizing the way his bones creak and grind against each other, cartilage worn away from age and decades of abuse. It’s the way his energy levels drain so much faster now, to the extent that even his usual ability to will himself into action seems to wane every day.

Not that he really had a choice in the matter. He was in end-stage liver failure, and the nearest Pit is in New Cuba. He’d just been lucky that there was a suitable donor in the hospital at the right time.

‘Luck’ is one word for it. ‘Cruel irony’ might be a better phrase.

Douglas Tan is one of the names he’s going to carry on his conscience for the rest of his life; or, at least on his liver.

Terry still makes jokes about Batman having a piece of a Joker inside him, but then Terry tends to use humor to cover up when he’s worried. Dick always did that, too; and Jason.

Bruce scowls, bothered by the direction of his thoughts, as well as the raggedness to his breath. He isn’t even moving very fast, but it’s taking him every bit of strength to keep at it.

Ace is curled up in his usual spot in the cave, watching Bruce with what seems to be narrowed eyes. As if to say, don’t overdo it or I will knock you over.

The dog is smarter than most people.

Ace is one of the reasons the doctors were willing to leave him to pursue recovery on his own and not under some beady-eyed nurse in the hospital. Money isn’t as much an incentive as it once was, with so many legal and health standards in the way; the older he gets, the less likely people are to trust his ability to make decisions, lawyers or not.

He tolerated a private nurse for about a day while having Terry make other arrangements and manufacturing a piece of paper saying Ace was a certified service dog. He’s not, but Bruce has no doubt the dog would activate the medical alert button at the computer if something were to happen. And Terry has an alarm set up, keyed into the surveillance and motion sensors in the Cave. If anything were to happen, he can be here faster than any ambulance.

Old age has fed into long-buried fears, and it gives him an embarrassing sense of relief knowing there’s someone to look in on him. It has always bothered him, being dependent—being weak.

Some days he’s more accepting of it; some days he wishes he had Kryptonian DNA.

Which is usually the point at which he forces himself to occupy his mind with other things because envying Kal-El can only lead down a dark, frustrating path of self-pity. One he’s determinedly avoided ever since meeting the other man.

After another fifteen minutes of forcing himself to think about nothing but the movement of his limbs, Bruce finally finishes his exercises. Sweat coats his back and his muscles ache with the same burn as if he just spent several hours grappling through the Gotham skyline. Even if it took fewer challenging movements to reach this point, that burn is comforting.

Familiar.

And that’s a word that’s been cropping up more in his thoughts lately. History tends to repeat, after all, but it’s still strange to experience. Terry’s been an excellent example of that.

Like Bruce, the McGinnis boy started out with nothing but a suit and an old man’s voice in his ear. Now, he’s got a network. Friends who he trusts and who will keep his secret. A steadily growing list of allies in the field.

The Police Commissioner. The Justice League.

And a Catwoman too, for Christ sakes.

He wonders what Selina would think about that.

Bruce just hopes the kid won’t make his mistakes. Forty years is a long time to rack up regrets.

At least Dick’s back in contact now.

Sort of.

He showed up the second night that Bruce was recovering from his procedure at the hospital; he’d managed to convince Terry to go out on patrol instead of wasting his time watching an old man sleep.

“Batman doesn’t get a day off.”

Bruce had dozed for a bit, but not deeply; it wasn’t difficult to discern that he wasn’t alone. 

One minute the room was empty and in the next, Bruce could feel that familiar presence—the one of a man who had carried the mantles of Robin, Nightwing, and Batman—and somehow lived to tell the tale. Then his estranged son was stepping out of the shadows, glaring down at him, muscles in his jaw working and fists clenching and unclenching.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Bruce had croaked, wishing he had thought to ask for ice chips before the nurse left. “I’m too stubborn to die.”

The silence hanging afterward was filled with everything he couldn’t say yet. For once, Dick didn’t call him on it.

“You’re more stubborn than God,” his boy countered.

(He’ll always be a boy to Bruce, grey hair and eye-patch be damned.)

And yet, Dick sat, arms crossed and spine stiff for the rest of the night. Still angry, but present nonetheless. He stayed until morning rounds without saying anything and then left.

They haven’t seen each other since, but sometimes Bruce can hear feedback on the comms when he’s directing Terry’s patrols. The tinny whisper of signals crossing from the bug he pretends he doesn’t know Dick planted on the underside of his medical ID tag.

It’s not much, but it’s something. The opening of the possibility that at some point, he’ll come around.

Barbara did, after all.

Mostly because of Terry, but afterward Bruce started making the effort. They can have conversations alone now that don’t end with her yelling at him (or punching him, on one or two memorable occasions). Bruce forgot how much he enjoyed her sense of humor and intelligence—how much he enjoyed their friendship—from before they slept together.

(That might be one of his life’s biggest shames. Oh, he has regrets associated with all of the family for one thing or another, but this is the one that still wakes him up at night feeling dirty.)

In a way, it’s easier with Tim, and that’s a bridge Bruce thought had been obliterated long ago.

Granted, he’s leaving Gotham again—the last incident with the Joker army rattled him enough that he put in for a transfer to the Beijing division of Wayne Enterprises—but he stuck around long enough to collaborate with Bruce on a subdermal antitoxin deployment implant against Joker venom.

(None of them want to be caught unawares again.)

It’s in the prototype phase, with only five of the devices in existence; he, Tim and Terry are testing them personally. It’s not exactly something the FDA is going to approve for human testing anytime soon, not with all the new legislation, but with the state of Gotham, it’s unwise to wait on it.

(He sent one to Barbara and one to Dick but doesn’t know if they’ve bothered to activate them. At least they haven’t sent them back.)

If the implant works, Bruce is seriously considering modifying the tech for the Wayne Enterprises medical division. There are a lot of illnesses and viruses out there which require regular dosages of medicine to keep them under control. The difficulty is finding funding and ensuring the board of the directors doesn’t jump on the chance to charge exorbitant amounts of money for the technology. The whole point of the tech is to help anyone who needs it, not just the filthy rich.

Maybe that’s the next project, after CAIN, he muses, grabbing his towel from where he draped it over one of the computer processors.

His global Clean Air Initiative Network is something he’d been working on before stepping back from the company. It was shelved almost immediately by Derek Powers when he took over, but since Bruce has been back, he’s been revisiting a lot of old projects.

Lucius’ boy did most of the technical work on it, and Foxtecha will have joint ownership of the patent when it’s ready for public consumption. Bruce would have asked Tim, but he knows how determined his estranged son is to get out of Gotham. He can read it in the tone of his emails, which have thankfully lost the stilted, formal business tone they’ve had since he returned to the company.

(Bruce mentioned paying a visit in the future, and Tim didn’t say no, so he counts that as a win.)

It’s a little disconcerting how the family is coming together again; disconcerting but welcome.

He’s received a vid call last week from Cassandra expressing concern over his surgery, and then a short, gruff email from Duke all-but ordering him to get better. There’s even a letter from Stephanie—or Eurus, as she goes by these days—smelling of dust and desert sun and incense found only in Nanda Parbat. Her messy, looping scrawl, echoed Dick’s sentiment about Bruce’s stubbornness and alluded to its genetic inheritability.

(That said more than if she had mentioned Damian outright; his youngest son has remained stubbornly silent.)

Bruce lost track of her not long after Damian’s short and brutal stint under the cowl; it had surprised him to find out she ended up in Tibet.

It also relieved him. Because no matter how dark a path his son wandered, at least there would be someone to challenge him. To not obey without question. To give him a link to the life he once had, to being human and alive.

(Bruce very carefully doesn’t think about Jason—doesn’t wonder if things had been different if he wouldn’t have reached out as well. Even after so many years, that wound is still raw.)

The whole thing is a stark difference from the last few times he ended up in the hospital, including when he was dosed on Joker venom several months ago. He didn’t hear anything from them at that point, which makes him think someone really thought he was dying this time and reached out.

Barbara, maybe. Or Dick. However much tension there is between himself and Bruce, he does keep in touch with the others. Hell, it might even have been Terry. The kid doesn’t know the rest of them personally, but he’s gotten adept at navigating the computer in the cave.

And he’s always been curious about his predecessors.

Bruce’s first family.

Or maybe just the first phase of the family.

Bruce shies away from that secret bit of knowledge he has about Terry, and his brother Matt. What he discovered the first time the kid returned to the Cave with bloody gashes that needed stitching up. The files and medical information buried beneath every firewall he could fashion, so the latest Batman can never stumble upon it accidentally.

The most Bruce has allowed himself to acknowledge it is an amendment in his will setting aside trust funds for both boys.

As if triggered by his thoughts, the screen of the Bat-Computer flickers to life. He rolls his shoulders, expecting an alert on some heist or robbery going on in the city; another case to add to the docket for Terry to investigate after school (depending on the severity).

Bruce doesn’t expect the Cave to suddenly fill with a jaunty, haunting carnival tune that makes his entire body seize in recognition. And yet, he already knows what’s coming even before the words HA HA HA coalesce upon the screen. 

“Hell-O World! It’s your favorite rascal…”

________________________________________________________________  

GORDON

There are times when Barbara misses being a vigilante, if only because there was a lot less paperwork involved. Questionable legality aside, there was always a simplicity to the whole endeavor: track down the bad guy, entrap-and-or-beat said bad guy into submission, and then drop them off at the GCPD.

Now that she’s the one behind the desk, though, she has a lot more appreciation for the work her father did. She wonders how he never developed an aneurysm or stress-related heart condition due to the grief Batman (and the rest of them) caused the department.

She has barely sat down in her office, but there’s an influx of emails flooding her inbox. She scans through the first few—requests from someone in IA sniffing around some of her open cases on the barest hint that she’s allowing Batman to help, reminders about upcoming social functions she would rather skip, two officers that have to be brought up on disciplinary charges—and sighs. It’s just the first two dozen.

Today is going to be a triple espresso kind of day, I can tell, she decides, rolling her shoulders and tilting her neck from side to side.

Another message chimes as it comes in.

Crime Alley and Tricorner are requesting more plainclothes officers in the area, ostensibly to deal with an upswing in crime over the past twenty-four hours.

Barbara frowns at this—it must be significant if those particular precincts are reaching out, they usually hate working with Central. Then again, everyone’s been jumpy about security since the Jokerz almost destroyed Gotham.

They’re still finding bodies from that one. She’s got three of her officers’ families grieving without any closure.

Barbara goes back over incident reports from the last few hours, noting a rise in attacks on the homeless, property damage and extreme road-rage (twenty-six separate incidents of that, which is a new daily extreme for her). From the initial investigations into each of the unrelated events—all in different areas of the city—there doesn’t seem to be any motivating factor or link.

What the hell is going on?

A crime spike isn’t ordinary for June; they usually start around now and then play out over the course of weeks.

Not hours. Have any of our usual players been released from custody lately? There’ve been no outbreaks or escapes that I know of.

If there is someone out there stirring things up, she hopes to God it’s just someone like Walter Shrieve. Arrogant and brilliant offenders she can deal with; they’re always so eager to prove themselves the best, and it always leads to their downfall. It’s the criminally insane ones that keep her up for days on end trying to restore some semblance of sanity to a city that’s never going to get any better. Even worse is a combination of the two.

Uneasy, she fires off a message to her counterparts in New York and Toronto, to see if they’re seeing similar phenomena in their jurisdictions. She hopes this is nothing, but she’s getting a hunch. And her hunches never lead her to anything that could be remotely called good.

“Get me Commissioner Sawyer over at MPD,” she tells the computer. She and Maggie go way back, and the other woman doesn’t pull that intercity rivalry crap when it comes to sharing important information.

“Yeah, the dregs are coming out of the woodwork here, too,” Maggie tells her after they exchange the requisite pleasantries. Her voice is carefully measured in a way that tells Barbara she’s not having a good day, either. “We had a damn flash mob that caused an A-trak derailment this morning. I have no idea how there weren’t more casualties, but…”

“Where’s Superman when you need him, right? I’d heard he was back in play.”

According to Bruce and Terry, anyhow.

“If he is, he must be off-world or something, because I doubt he’d be sitting on his ass at a time like this. What about on your end?”

“Well, we’re not exactly beyond the powers of the GCPD right now,” Barbara replies, a little smugly. “No need to take the Bat-signal out of storage.”

Yet, the unwelcome voice in her head echoes.

“Oh-ho, aren’t we getting confident in our old age?” Maggie sneers, but there’s no real malice to it. “For all our sakes, I hope it stays that way. But I’ve got a hunch...”

“Yeah,” Barbara sighs, her stomach dropping. “Me too.”

It’s not a good sign when both she and her opposite number in Metropolis are on the same wavelength.

As Maggie hangs up, three more incident reports pop up on the side of her screen. Skirmishing at Gotham General—that’s all they need now. If things are just warming up, it’s looking like another long day.

Sam’s not going to like it…

Barbara dials in the number herself this time on her personal line. There’s a trill and the viewscreen pops up to show her husband in his office at the DA, scowling down at a tablet. His expression clears when he sees her.

“Didn’t I just see you this morning?” he jokes. “Or were you that keen to see me again?”

“Always,” Barbara tells him, softer than she speaks to anyone else. “But I’m actually calling to apologize. It’s going to be a day, and I don’t know if I’ll get home for supper.”

“It must be bad since you just got there.”

“Things have been hairy all night,” she admits. “I’ve got incident reports multiplying as we speak. You’d think with the bug going around people would be staying home to recuperate, but it looks like they think it’s an excuse to break the law.”

“Well, it’s Gotham. After all this time, it’s not a surprise.”

“It’s really, really not.”

“I know I’d rather be home in bed,” Sam says, and normally a comment like that would have innuendo behind it. This time it’s all too earnest. He rubs his face tiredly. “I think I’m coming down with it too, to be honest.”

“If you give it to me, you’re sleeping on the couch for the next week,” Barbara informs him automatically. “I can’t afford to miss any work for the next…forever.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, hon. The minute they see you blink in this business, you’re dead in the water.” Sam grimaces and rolls his shoulders, and Barbara experiences a tinge of concern because he does look pale.

“Maybe you should go home,” she suggests. “You can work on your cases at home, can’t you?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’m due in court at ten o’clock.”

“If you’re dead from the flu, do you know how many criminals are going to walk free?” she demands, only a little bit joking.

He chuckles. “Come on, Babs, you know no one’s died of the flu in twenty years.”

Barbara has a witty retort on her tongue, but it stalls when Sam’s image freezes in front of her. It seems at first to be a lag, but then the screen morphs from his office to what looks like a brick wall.

She feels an icy cold slice through her, the same one she always gets when anything is associated with him. It’s the echo of a bullet, tearing through her internal organs and spine, and the hair-raising chill.

Barbara doesn’t really read the words, too focused on the high, cold cackle in the that somehow blocks out every other sound. 

________________________________________________________________

DRAKE

For the first time in a long time, Tim is happy.

His house is a gutted mess of boxes and detritus, but unlike in his younger years, it’s not because some supervillain has come crashing in to threaten him. He smiles, a little whimsical, at the date on the holographic calendar, and the word that hovers there: Moving.

In a week, he and Arlene will be in Beijing, and forever free of Gotham City.

They made the decision together in the weeks following the Jokerz attack, after Tim escaped the Cave the last time. He made it clear to Bruce and his new apprentice that it was the last time.

He doesn’t mind continuing to work for Wayne Enterprises—hell, he helped build that company, he takes a certain amount of pride and responsibility for it—but he won’t be doing that from Gotham. There’s too much history here, too much…everything. Apparently living on the outskirts or even in the same state (even on the same continent) isn’t enough for Tim to completely escape the lingering, nightmarish legacy of Batman.

Of Robin.

He wants normal. And after everything he’s been through, he more than deserves it.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell your dad, he’ll be happy to hear that,” Arlene says, chatting with their daughter Janet on the vidphone across the kitchen. In the den, the low sounds of the television provide background noise.

“—the level of unrest breaking out in the world’s major cities, has politicians asking, ‘is this another Yellow Vest Movement?’—"

“Honey, Janet says she and Maeve will be coming to help with the move after all.”

“You mean coming to eat pizza and beer,” Tim replies with a smile; they’ve already hired movers.

“Semantics,” he hears his youngest daughter laugh. “Either way we’ll be there.”

“Always happy to see you, kiddo.”

“Now, I’ve got to let you go,” Arlene says. “I have a nine-thirty conference call with Peking U., but I’ll speak to you later on.”

She has a follow-up interview for a position in the Linguistics Department there. It’s a step down from her current professorship at Gotham University, where she was on the tenure track, but when Tim pointed this out, she insisted his mental health was more important than her job prospects.

He tells himself he gave in so easily because after so many years of marriage it’s futile to argue with her. He tries not to acknowledge the total relief that he didn’t have to argue with her about it.

“Yeah, no problem Mom. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too!”

The video feed of their daughter winks out.

“Do you need me to get out of your hair?” Tim asks.

“No, I’ll take the call up in the office,” his wife replies and presses a kiss to his temple as she passes. Then she pauses, turns around and grabs the coffee pot to bring with her. “And I’m cutting you off. Any more of this and you’re not sleeping tonight.”

Tim sighs. “It’s like you know me or something.”

“And don’t forget it, mister!”

He listens carefully to the sound of his wife retreating up the stairs and over the landing, and then reaches for the microwave, where he surreptitiously stashed an extra cup earlier that morning.

And swears when he finds it missing; a quick glance to the sink sees it already washed out.

Damn it, she does know me.

But the thought is more fond than irritated.

Arlene is the only sure thing in his life, especially after his trauma. They met through Kate Kane—or rather, because of Kate Kane. The two women attended West Point at the same time, and Arlene acted as a character witness for Kate prior to the dishonorable discharge. Though Arlene graduated from the Academy, she did not spend much time on active duty before she was injured by a roadside bomb and lost her leg. Afterward, while dealing with her own PTSD, she pursued an academic career. She and Kate lost touch, and it wasn’t until the media released news of Kate’s murder that she heard of her again.

Arlene attended the funeral, which is where Tim met her for the first time. Two weeks later, they met in a support group for trauma survivors and started getting coffee together. It took Tim a year to figure out she was flirting with him (which Jason never stopped teasing him about, even when he was on his deathbed). After everything with Stephanie, and then with Jason, Arlene offered a safety none of his other partners ever had.

There’s a high-pitched trill from his cellphone, and he glances down to read the text from Cass.

‘ayt? need yr flight info. to pick u up from airport next wk. :) :) :)’

His sister still prefers to text over talking by phone, even all these years later, which he’s pleased about. So much these days is done with face-to-face screens or even holographic technology; he wasn’t really a people person before, but it’s getting rarer and rarer to have any kind of privacy. Texting—especially across the encrypted server he’s set up—is a relief.

Tim relays the details to her, along with the implied greetings from his wife, and expects that to be it. But then he gets another text.

‘question? 4 work.’

Tim tenses.

Cassandra Cain works as a retired ballerina who opened her own school of dance; it’s highly unlikely the work-related question has anything to do with that. It’s probably for Black Bat.

But he cautiously texts back, ‘As long as it’s just a question.’

He’s had to re-learn to establish boundaries.

‘fair. u worked cybersecurity. ever hear of Morningstar. hacker/agency???’

Tim frowns, thinks back, and shakes his head even though she can’t see it. ‘No. Never dealt with anything like that.’

Ok! 3Q. worth a shot. will c u & arlene on thurs. 520GG!’

‘88MM’

He waits a few minutes, but there are no more messages forthcoming, and then sends out the last message—‘88MM’, before putting his phone away.

Unlike everyone else from his vigilante days, Cass knows how to not push.

And yet…

She rarely asks him about anything that might involve her after-hours work, both out of familial courtesy and because her operation is, at least unofficially, supported by the Chinese government. Legally, there’s not a lot she can involve him in; when she does, it’s only where she has absolutely no other recourse and it involves paperwork and non-disclosure agreements.

Only twice has she asked him something in an off-hand way, which he knew instinctively had to do with Black Bat but pretended not to realise. The last time, his information helped her locate and dismantle a eugenicist breeding program using homeless girls.

Perhaps that’s why he finds himself reaching for his laptop and looking into anything to do with Cass’s mysterious ‘Morningstar’.

The word generates a broad spectrum of results, even when he searches through the Dark Web. Nothing to do with drugs, nothing related to human trafficking or weapons—nothing that wouldn’t immediately stand out to Cass in her own searches. He narrows search parameters, skating through encryptions and IP trails and layers and layers of disturbing data—

Within ten minutes he comes across the exact word in connection with a burgeoning hacktivist group known as DevilNight, but no indications as to what it refers to. It’s odd, considering the group has only existed for a short while and has hardly done anything worthy of attention. It makes no sense that something like this would be on Cass’s radar, especially considering based on his tracking, the group is based in Idaho.

He has just started to peel back the layers of the group’s security when his computer screen freezes. A beat later, words begin to type on his screen, and the blood drains from his cheeks.

H E L L O  J U N I O R

Even as the words register, Tim is already shoving himself backward, away from the screen. His hand slaps against the spot in his neck where Joker’s microchip was implanted—the spot where he injected Bruce’s anti-venom deployment system. It’s a reassurance, a reminder, he will be safe—

Horror suffuses him as another message typed out in front of him:

D O N ’T  B E  A  N A U G H T Y  B O Y

Bile rises in his throat and Tim feels the world spin. Instantly, he is back in that horrible room, hysterical laughter in his ears and a falsely cheerful melody playing in the background.

He has to fight himself back under control, checking his surroundings, going over simple facts about himself in his head—

Not Junior not Junior not Junior—

My name is Timothy Jackson Drake. Drake-Wayne.

He is still that, even if he never uses the name anymore. He never got around to changing it, never had the courage to.

My parents were Jack and Janet Drake. Mom died when I was a boy, Dad remarried. Dana. But they died—

Kidnapped, poisoned, murdered, went insane—

No, he’s getting off track. Facts, he needs facts about himself, to ground him, to remind him of who he is and not what he has lived through.

I work as a communications director and do contract work for Wayne Enterprises. I have two daughters—Kate and Janet. Kate is a veterinarian; Janet is a stockbroker. She married Maeve last year. Kate is pregnant with our first grandchild. Arlene and I go to Florida every winter…

At long last, he gets himself under control again, can separate himself from the specter of Junior.

He expects the laughter and the inner echoes of carnival music to fade away.

Instead, it becomes louder and more distinct.

Tim stares at his screen in horror as the message vanishes, the words replaced with something even more sinister.

HA HA HA.

No.

Not again.

He can’t do this again.

________________________________________________________________  

GRAYSON

Dick only ever feels his age in the mornings.

There’s just something about his body waking up after a long sleep, before his training kicks in to ignore the aches and pains, that can’t fight off the heaviness as fast anymore. Every day it’s more painful putting himself through the usual routine of exercises to keep himself in shape. 

Thankfully, he’s still outwardly put-together enough to hide it.

He smiles ruefully at his reflection in the bathroom mirror—more of a grimace, really—and studies the patchwork of old scars and not-so-old bruises across his chest.

He knows he doesn’t look his age. It’s not even due to cosmetic surgery or organ replacements or even the personal holograph projections that have gotten popular in the last decade. Longevity just happens to run in his family; John Grayson’s father was still pulling triple somersaults at eighty and Mary Lloyd’s grandmother lived to be a hundred and thirteen.

The only thing artificial in his body are metal plates and pins that replaced bones fractured beyond natural healing, and the biotech keeping the bullet in his spine from moving. (And the antitoxin implant Bruce sent him; because no feud is worth getting dosed with Joker venom, whether the bastard is dead or not.)

Not bad for fifty-nine, he decides and heads for the kitchen.

There’s a moan from his bedroom, and he pauses briefly as he passes to consider the woman lying in his bed in nothing but his bedsheets. In her sleep, she curls to one side, causing the sheet to slip a little and reveal bruises in the shape of his fingers across her hip. He can feel the matching set on his own back.

Definitely not bad for fifty-nine.

For a moment he debates the merits of returning to bed and continuing where they left off last night, but that would be against one of the unspoken rules they established when they started sleeping together.

The other is that they don’t use real names.

He doesn’t know or want to know hers—after a lifetime of failed relationships and broken hearts he knows better than to get attached. And though he’s aware she knows his—the world knows his name since that fiasco with the wannabe Hush—she never uses it. If she must, she calls him Wing, and it’s a clear reminder that she has no intention of crossing any boundaries to let things become personal.

He has no problem with that; he calls her Black.

He’ll never call her Cat because that’s what Bruce called Selina Kyle. Associating this Catwoman with the original just feels a little too oedipal to Dick.

(Selina never really gave off motherly vibes, but she was the most constant presence of all Bruce’s paramours, so she sort of ended up in that role by association).

The original Catwoman was the only one Bruce could never completely push away—though that might say more about Selina’s stubbornness than the old man trying to keep hold of the people in his life. She decided when they were in a relationship, or out of one, whatever Bruce wanted.

In the end, even that wasn’t enough though. Her heart was never as strong after the incident with the real Hush.

Dick remembers attending the funeral. Bruce didn’t show up at the service or the burial. It was a few years into his self-imposed exile, right after Damian’s departure, and soon after Steph and Cass. He obviously hadn’t wanted to face any of them (maybe couldn’t face them).

But there was a crack in the headstone the next time Dick brought flowers (an imprint of a fist he would know anywhere) and he knows Bruce blamed himself for that too.

Dick heads to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee for himself. He debates for a moment, leaving one out for Black, but if the usual pattern holds, she’ll be jumping out his bedroom window soon without even coming into the kitchen. She’s not exactly one for goodbyes. Instead, he leans on the counter and pulls out his mobile, scrolling through the day's news stories.

Call him old fashioned, but he prefers to read the news than watch the featureless blue talking heads on the television. He spends about a minute skimming a beat piece on the successful launch of Wayne Enterprises' latest environmental initiative. Tim was telling him something about that the other day; it was the most animated and relaxed Dick had seen him since that night with the Jokerz.

“It’s basically like a planetary rebreather,” his estranged brother enthused. “You know how trees take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen? It’s sort of like that, but on a larger scale. Once it's all set up, any toxins pumped into the atmosphere will get filtered out and converted to oxygen.”

Tim had then gone on a lengthy explanation about the technical details that Dick had no chance of following, but given how enthused he’d seemed, it hadn’t mattered.

He’s going to miss him, now that he’s headed off to Beijing, but Cass is ecstatic. As far as Dick knows, they haven’t seen each other in ten years. It almost makes him want to head over and join the reunion.

Except that would be counterproductive to his current plans.

Dick is in Gotham on the pretense of opening a second athletics course, but really, it’s to keep an eye on things.

He doesn’t trust Bruce not to screw up whatever he’s doing with this new kid, and the boy’s too green to notice the signs of losing himself to Bruce’s mission. When the old man cuts him off—and it’s when, not if, because Bruce will inevitably screw this up—the McGinnis kid is going to need someone to keep his head above water.

Dick’s only been around him a handful of times, but there’s a cockiness and attitude there that reminds him of Jason. That’s concerning enough on its own, but what really makes the hair on the back of Dick’s neck stand up is the sense he has of this kid’s potential to do damage. He’s seen that, before, too, along with the results.

Christ, the kid even looks like Damian. If I didn’t know Bruce so well, I’d think…

He shakes off the thought because it’s too disturbing to contemplate.

The point is, Terry McGinnis needs someone looking out for him, even if he doesn’t realize it. Bruce isn’t going to do it and Barbara has clearly forgotten a hell of a lot of history since she’s allowing the boy to fly around her city risking his life.

So it’s up to Dick.

Again.

I’m way too old to be getting another brother, he thinks darkly, in what once might have been genuine humor but now feels just exhausting. Especially considering his track record with the others.

He doesn’t even know where Duke ended up.

Something flickers on the edge of his eyesight, and he turns to look out the window of his apartment. Across the street, the giant vid-screen advertising the latest energy drink blinks and goes briefly blank. Along with every other screen as far as the eye can see.

Dick narrows his eyes, taking a step forward to study the phenomena, and then freezes as his quiet apartment is invaded by obscenely cheerful music and a laugh he wishes he could forget.

Every screen for miles spells it out, and he knows immediately that things are about to get worse.

________________________________________________________________

⁂

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Next Chapter

[the-not-so-good-planter]

ELEPHANT EARS (ALOCASIA & COLOCASIA)

Alocasia’s or more commonly known as “elephant ears” are an extremely popular indoor plant due to their supersized leaves. Before you make the commitment to these guys please read on. I was sucked into the beautiful leaves these guys produce not knowing what exactly I was getting myself into. While I still very much love these plants the constant fight with spidermites is draining and so I’ve made the difficult decision to stop purchasing any more elephant ears. I currently have 2 different species of alocasia, one of which I’m not totally sure of what kind it is but I do know it’s my favourite; mostly due to the leaf size and the fact it was my first ever alocasia purchase. The other type I have is the green shield and the green taro which is a similar species called “colocasia”.

Aside from being biased because she was my first alocasia, I have new found respect for “Elly”. As you all would know from my first post, I do not name my plants unless it’s their turn to die. So just as guessed I tried to kill Elly. Almost from the first week I bought her I have been fighting with spidermites. I didn’t want to give up on her because she was the love of my life (don’t tell my husband), but the months went on and I was getting extremely drained from the losing battle. I got up one morning thinking all was well in world of Elly; that I had finally defeated the spidermites; I was so wrong. She was covered in them and I simply decided to stop fighting. I put her outside in the corner where the plants go to die.

I went to see what was the aftermath after a few weeks of solitude and no water later, only to find the spidermites had completely gone and she had popped out new leaves! How is this even possible you might ask? Let me tell you insider tip! Alocasia’s are more of an outdoor plant anyway. Not for sun all day every day but they do prefer the outdoors. What I didn’t know, however, was that spidermites do not like the wind; or outdoor weather for that matter. I did not spray her at all; I had completely given up on her only for her to not only rid herself of the spidermites, but to show me she was worthy of life. Now, I’m not saying that this will keep the spidermites away but it certainly decreases the frequency that they happen. I have since put my other affected elephant ears outside; I have sprayed them to give them a bit of a boost and it too has worked!

Now I mentioned I didn’t water Elly for weeks, simply because I was trying to kill her. Alocasia’s do need to be watered frequently; I water roughly twice a week in summer and once a week in winter. I’ve recently placed my green taro into our pond (hydro) and it is going crazy! So, they do need to be watered more often than every couple of weeks. You will find in winter, depending on where you live, that elephant ears will go dormant. This means that they stop growing as much or even at all. This doesn’t mean that you should stop watering them, even if they look dead. You may have no leaves at all, but that doesn’t mean you should stop watering. Unless of course you get through winter and it doesn’t grow any leaves. Then it’s actually dead and you can throw it in the bin. Until then though, pretend it’s alive even if it doesn’t look like it is!

Elly is now about a year old and only a month ago popped out a flower! Something totally new and different for me as this was my first flower of any indoor plant. I actually thought it was a new leaf, until the flower popped out! Not long after this I had a brainwave thinking this is how I can grow more plants but from seed instead of from a cutting. Instantly I started googling “can you pollenate an alocasia”.  Now, if you have never watched how to pollenate from a flower Bourke’s backyard style, I highly recommend; if not for the wisdom but for the humour. It did, however, seriously freak my friend out to the point where she can never see a plant flower the same so tread carefully.

Testing out my new-found knowledge of how to pollenate an elephant ear, I gave it a go. Now I would like to make aware I didn’t do it Bourke’s backyard style, I found a separate video that wasn’t so graphic. I started to see another flower popping up so I have 2 in total. I gave the pollenating a go and it not long failed. It shrivelled up and looked like a crusted, saggy dick. Not long after seeing the aftermath I decided it would be nicer to simply look and enjoy the second flower that was due to open soon.

Overall an elephants ear is a great plant for beginners, just be prepared to fight with bugs on them and have your bug spray ready. If anyone has successfully pollenated an alocasia please send me pics and any more wisdom you might have. I’m very interested in how to get some seeds out of the sausage!

-The Not So Good Planter

[itsevidentvery]

This is an SV winter exchange gift for the incomparable @workplaceromance! I tried to write you a Jarrich epistolary romance, but could only manage it partway. Hope you enjoy anyway!

And a huge shout-out to the wonderful @carrot-gallery for organising this entire thing!

So without further ado:

[Richard Hendricks: 02:23 a.m.]

jAred

[Jared Dunn: 02:24 a.m.]

Hello Richard. Can I help you?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:30 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:32 a.m.]

Richard, are you all right?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:33 a.m.]

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

hI

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

yOu uP

[Richard Hendricks: 02:36 a.m.]

Bar

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:36 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:37 a.m.]

Richard, are you all right?

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:37 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

Richard, where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

wasted

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

wIsh you were HERE

[Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

Where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

Come

[Richard Hendricks: 02:38 a.m.]

Here

[missed call from Jared Dunn: 02:38 a.m.]

[Jared Dunn: 02:39 a.m.]

Where are you?

[Jared Dunn: 02:39 a.m.]

I’ll come to you. Where are you?

[Richard Hendricks: 02:40 a.m.]

Come GEt me

[Richard Hendricks: 02:40 a.m.]

(Sent location)

[Jared Dunn: 02:41 a.m.]

Don’t go anywhere.

[Jared Dunn: 02:41 a.m.]

I’ve called a Lyft.

[Jared Dunn: 02:42 a.m.]

I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:43 a.m.]

cOme heRe

[Jared Dunn: 02:43 a.m.]

On my way.

[Jared Dunn: 02:43 a.m.]

Have some water.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:44 a.m.]

(beer emoji)

(Martini glass emoji)

(champagne bottle emoji)

(eggplant emoji)

[Jared Dunn: 02:45 a.m.]

(smiley emoji)

[Jared Dunn: 02:45 a.m.]

I’m in the Lyft now.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:45 a.m.]

(eggplant emoji)

[Richard Hendricks: 02:46 a.m.]

thaNks

[Jared Dunn: 02:46 a.m.]

My pleasure.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:47 a.m.]

take me hOME

[Jared Dunn: 02:48 a.m.]

I will

[Jared Dunn: 02:48 a.m.]

Sit tight, Captain.

[Jared Dunn: 02:49 a.m.]

I’ll be there soon.

[Richard Hendricks: 02:53 a.m.]

Youre so good

[Richard Hendricks: 02:53 a.m.]

So fkng good

[Richard Hendricks: 02:54 a.m.]

I thiNK aBout you sometimes and

[Richard Hendricks: 02:55 a.m.]

Your eyes your hANds yuor voice and I want to bend yoU OVER SOMETHNIG sometisme

[Richard Hendricks: 02:55 a.m.]

Or you can bend me over whatevr

[Richard Hendricks: 02:56 a.m.]

fUCk I want to lick you

[Richard Hendricks: 02:56 a.m.]

What do yuO taste like

[Richard Hendricks: 02:57 a.m.]

Are you swEeT I bet yuo are

[Richard Hendricks: 02:57 a.m.]

do you taste of autumn

[Richard Hendricks: 02:58 a.m.]

What dO you look like when you cOMe

And then there’s a soft hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard turns and blinks owlishly as his vision refocuses and Jared’s concerned face swims into view.

‘Richard?’

‘Jaaaaarrrreeeeeed’, says Richard. He’s feeling fine. ‘This guy – this gucking fuy – this fucking guy is my CFO! My – my – this guy fucks, he’s’ Richard hiccups, he only just now thought of this, this is so fucking good, ‘my Chief Fucking Officer!’

Jared smiles at Richard and calls over the bartender. Asks for a glass of water. Makes Richard drink it. Richard says ‘I can – anything for you, Jar’d’, tries to drink sensually and slops half the water over his shirt. Dabs at himself giggling while Jared calls for the bill and tries to get Richard to drink some more water. Richard says ‘I’ll drink ALL the water’ and chugs from the glass. He drinks too fast and some spills out his mouth, but Jared’s smiling warmly and saying ‘good’ as he pays the bill.

Jared insists on taking Richard home. Richard’s delighted to have him, especially when they have to make an emergency stop for Richard to heave his guts out by the side of the road, with Jared rubbing soothing circles along his back and murmuring something kind and supportive.

The next morning, Richard wakes up feeling like he’s died.

Correction: wishing that he’d died.

It feels like someone’s hollowed out his skull and replaced it with a dental cavity. And then stuck him in a wind tunnel at a fucking Slipknot concert. Any movement – any breath of air – has him whimpering pitifully.

He feels green. Like, all over. And too feeble to even attempt nausea.

His eyes drag themselves open. He swears he can feel his eyelids scraping against his cornea.

The movement exhausts him so much that he lies in bed panting.

Never again. He is never. Drinking. Again. It’s a miracle he even got home last night, which – how did he get home?

Oh – oh yeah. Jared. Jared brought him home. Well, at least he’d kept his wits about him that much. It was – smart – to get in touch with Jared. Jared would just – snap into action and, like, do what needed to be done, and, and, and he wouldn’t give Richard shit, or get Richard to give him a Board seat, which he has already anyway, but you know.

Jared’s good.

Jared’s so fucking good.

Wait.

Why are those words so horribly, horribly familiar?

Wait.

Wait.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no NO no no.

Oh fffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Richard’s mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

He winches himself up and registers faintly that sheer panic has overwhelmed the hangover. He crawls to the foot of his bunk bed and sees his cell on his desk, laid out precisely perpendicular to the edge.

Jared’s doing.

Oh God, Jared’s doing.

He climbs down the ladder with shaking legs and makes his way to his desk. Wipes his sweaty palms down the side of his jeans and gingerly picks up the cell.

It’s – okay, maybe this won’t be so –

Richard takes a deep breath. Flicks to his messages.

Oh.

Oh, it’s worse.

Oh, it’s so much worse.

It’s a fucking – cornucopia – of creepy buried desires and feelings vomited onto the screen. And fucking drunk-spelled just enough to make him look illiterate, but not enough to confuse the unmistakeable, sexual-harassment-lawsuit-in-every-syllable intent.

It’s like the fucking…verbal equivalent of a dick pic with a grubby thumbnail in shot. Like, what even.

Richard drops the phone. And okay, he thinks he has the energy to throw up. So that’s….progress?

Richard stumbles out to the bathroom. And of course, because this is his life, he runs immediately into Jared.

Who is standing just outside Richard’s room with a tray. On which lies a sandwich, a cup of coffee and a pill.

Because Jared can’t, like, let Richard wallow in guilt and terror and self-loathing in peace. Or even wait till Richard’s got a little bit of his shit together. Enough to have upchucked, had a shower, crawled like a nanometer towards normal, changed into clean clothes, had something to eat that Richard thought to get for himself without Jared fucking anticipating his needs.

Jared doesn’t even have the decency to look, like, torn-up, or untidy, or even a little bit gross. I mean, yeah, he looks a little underslept – Richard dragged him out of bed and across town in the middle of the night, after all – but the dark circles only make his eyes look even bluer, like Jared’s giant Disney Princess eyes needed the help there.

Nooooo, Jared’s gotta, like, be aggressively kind and thoughtful and put-together and fucking unnecessarily perfect on this day of all days, when Richard’s feeling like something the Swamp Thing shat out after a cheese nightmare and fucking five days of indigestion.

And sent Jared graphic, misspelled, tragic, titanically inappropriate messages, let’s not forget that little detail.

After Jared rescued him from a bar.

Goddammit.

Goddammit.

He smells nice, too. Jared. Jared smells nice. Like he always smells nice but right now it seems cruel that he smells so crisp and clean and fresh and comforting and, and, and, and fucking lovely.

He probably does taste of autumn.

Fuck.

And God, it’s not like Richard ever thought he’d get to find out for himself, he’s not that optimistic, but Richard’s been, like, dealing as best he can with Jared’s hands and his wrists and his eyes and his soft voice and his naval metaphors and his fanatical but still frustratingly platonic devotion to Richard that makes Richard feel like a special kind of creep for the hot dark thoughts that come to him at night, the thoughts where one of those giant hands has wrapped around Richard’s neck and the other one’s around his cock, or where Jared’s staring at Richard over his shoulder with those huge blue eyes and moaning Richard’s name while Richard does something that even his imagination fritzes at shaping, or……

He’s been dealing with it. He has.

He has.

Well, he hasn’t jumped Jared or thrown up on him. Or, y’know, both. So. You know. Dealing with it.

But now Richard’s

1)      Gotten wasted at a bar

2)      And made his CFO – made Jared – come out in the middle of the fucking night to get him

3)      And sent him a billion texts outlining all his pathetic, stupid, ill-conceived, hung-up longings

a.       Texts which included the phrases ‘bend you over’ and ‘lick you’

‘Richard?’ Jared’s frowning in concern at Richard. Who has presumably been gawping at Jared like a murderer confronted by, like, the ghost of his latest victim.

Which he basically is.

A victim who has brought his murderer sandwiches because that’s just the kind of guy he is, so why not remind the murderer of just how entirely too good for, like, this entire sinful earth he is in general, and for the murderer in particular?

‘Richard, do you think you could try to eat something?’

Ah what the hell, why not. He’s gotta have something to throw up before, after or during the inevitable conversation where Jared gently reminds him of Pied Piper’s sexual harassment in the workplace policy.

Assuming Jared still wants to stay with Pied Piper.

Oh God.

What if –

Oh fuck.

Like, it’s not – he wouldn’t blame Jared. But ohshitohshitohshit.

‘Don’t leave’, he says on a rush, fist clenching around the sandwich – PBJ, presumably Jared knows that’s all Richard can handle right now.

Jared’s eyes widen. ‘Richard? Why would I – Richard, what’s wrong?’

‘I’m sorry’, says Richard, ‘I – fuck, I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t have made you – woken you, made you – come to get me, and then – I shouldn’t – oh God, fuck, the texts, Jared, you have to know, I’m so - ’

‘Oh’, says Jared. And he goes pink. Richard thinks he looks unfairly pretty that way. ‘Yes. I was - ’ he coughs delicately, ‘I was planning to schedule a one-on-one with you about that. But – Richard, I think you should – why don’t you get some food inside you, and some water, and some coffee, and then we can talk?’

Richard sighs. It’s probably just postponing the inevitable, but what the hell.

He eats the sandwich. Keeps it down, even. He drinks coffee. He drinks water. Has a shower. Changes into a button-down and a sweater that he realises kinda-sorta matches Jared’s? Wonders whether to change. Doesn’t. Wonders why he chose that colour. Decides he’s not gonna think about it.

Accepts Jared’s calendar invitation for a ‘catch-up’. Tries not to hit his head on the table when he sees that Jared’s linked to the employee handbook with particular reference to the guidelines on creating a hostile workplace environment.

I know, Jared. I know.

Manages to get stuck far enough into debugging that he actually, sincerely jumps out of his skin when there’s a soft touch on his shoulder and Jared murmurs ‘Richard, our scheduled discussion.’

Richard blinks, and Jared immediately offers to reschedule if he’s caught Richard in the zone.

Richard contemplates taking him up on the offer, and then thinks better of it. Rip off the Band-Aid and all that.

‘No’, he says, and jerks his head to his bedroom. ‘Let’s – we’ll do it now.’

They head off to the room and shut the door behind them. Jared takes a seat opposite Richard, and smiles. And it is so obviously his HR smile, his establish-a-non-threatening-environment-prior-to-engaging-in-a-difficult-conversation-with-a-difficult-colleague smile, that Richard can feel his PBJ crawl up his throat.

‘Richard, how are you feeling?’

Richard scrubs his hands over his face. ‘Look. Jared. Can we – please can we just – get this over with?’

Jared purses his lips. ‘Richard, I need you to take this seriously. I’d like you to respect the process, please, we need to establish a protocol for future occurrences so that - ’

‘There won’t be future occurrences’, says Richard, desperately, ‘please, I, Jared, I’m sorry, all right, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I - ’

‘Well’, says Jared, ‘let’s find out what happened. Recall the words of George Santayana, Richard. ‘Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’’

He nods earnestly at Richard, all help me help you. And goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Richard sighs. ‘I met old friends from Stanford. I got drunk. I got very very drunk.’

Jared nods. ‘Well, you texted me to come and get you instead of trying to drive while intoxicated. Which was very responsible of you, Richard, and I think you should give yourself credit for that. I’m also - ’ and the colour rises in his cheeks, ‘oh, Richard, I’m so honoured that you selected me to come for you. That you’d choose to trust me this way – to lay your sword on my shoulder and say ‘I am wounded in battle, but my ensign, my Lancelot, my trusted standard-bearer is come to bear me away’, I - ’ and his hand splays out over his chest. His eyes glisten.

Richard swallows. It – okay, so – I mean, trust Jared to be grateful for what anyone else would treat correctly as an incredible fucking imposition, but, like, if he’s – all dewy-eyed about being yanked out of bed in the middle of the night, then like has he…forgotten…..about the gross text messages, or…?

‘It – sure, Jared.’

Sure what? Like Richard agrees that he did Jared a fucking favour? Fucking…throw yourself into traffic, Richard Hendricks.

Jared sits up straight, sniffs and composes himself. ‘I’m sorry, Richard, I – I didn’t mean to – intrude my own preoccupations, it was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

‘No’, says Richard, ‘no, it – no.’

‘Well’, says Jared, his cheeks still delicately pink, fuck, ‘I would – thank you, Richard, it meant – it means – a lot to me.’

Richard can’t think of what to do or say, so he nods.

Jared squares his thin shoulders and looks grave. And here it comes. ‘Richard, there is one thing I would like to ensure does not happen again.’

Richard is nodding. Nodding and cringing.

‘The other text messages, Richard. The – explicit ones.’

Richard’s nodding picks up speed, yes, I know, Jared, no need to spin this out, can we just…

‘I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to look at the employee handbook excerpt I sent you…’

Richard hasn’t looked. He opened the attachment and wanted to die. Shut it. Opened it again. Wanted to die in a whole different way. Shut it again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

He shakes his head. Jared gives him a slightly reproving look – Richard winces – and goes on.

‘Well, Richard, we have – specific policies – preventing any speech or action or communication that can make your colleagues uncomfortable. Now, I understand that we weren’t in a workplace environment, and that I wasn’t meant to see those messages, and those are mitigating circumstances, but we should have a discussion about managing consumption of…alcohol, or…psychotropic substances? To make sure that it doesn’t happen again?’

Richard’s nodding so violently his head feels like it’ll fall off. Which. Might not be such a bad thing? But maybe, just maybe, this nightmarish conversation is coming to an end and somehow Jared seems to be taking it in stride that Richard came on to him and look at no point did Richard ever think that Jared was going to throw himself into Richard’s arms and like look shyly at him and whisper ‘Me too’ and use Richard’s bedroom to, to, to, to, for Richard to, or for Jared to, or like whisper in Richard’s ear ‘what do you taste of, Richard?’ and okay so maybe Richard was hoping just a little because like where would we be without hope and maybe Richard’s mildly disappointed/completely crushed that Jared’s just fucking briskly swatting aside Richard’s heartfelt and yes problematically harass-y declarations but mostly it looks like Jared’s not going to quit and he doesn’t hate Richard forever so that has to be a win.

Jared smiles at Richard, and there’s a little…strain?....in the smile. ‘But I’m – happy for you, Richard. Who’s the lucky lady?’

‘….Who’s what lucky lady?’

Jared blinks. ‘The messages, Richard. They were…’ and Jared’s pink again, ‘I’m sure it’s very…oh, I’m sure she’s exquisite, Richard, I’m very happy for you.’

Richard is staring at Jared, so hard he can feel his headache start up again. ‘…….What?’

Jared blushes deeper. ‘Of course, if you’re not comfortable discussing it, I completely understand, it was…impertinent…of me, but you see, Richard, this is the difficulty with bifurcating personal and professional relationships, this is why we need a policy in place to prevent this sort of…’

Richard lets Jared’s words wash over him.

Okay. O-kaaayyyy.

So. Jared thinks the texts were meant for someone else.

That does explain why he’s so chilled out about them. Relatively.

Okay.

Okay!

Okay, this is the out Richard wanted!

Richard lets out a noisy exhale of sheer relief. Jared looks at him, surprised.

Richard’s beaming at Jared like a loon. Fucking….heteronormativity, and Jared’s fucking ridiculous self-effacing modesty, to the rescue.

Goddamn.

Jared smiles back at Richard, uncertainly, and Richard’s stomach and heart do something very uncomfortable.

‘Richard? I – of course it doesn’t matter, since the recipient was only me, but -’

‘I trust you’, Richard blurts out. ‘I – with everything. That’s probably why I. I’m sorry, Jared, but that’s what happens when. People trust you. You. You find out. Things. That maybe you don’t wanna – I’m sorry.’

And Jared’s face is doing this thing, this terrifying wonderful thing. His eyes are, they’re bluer and bigger with every passing second, and he’s smiling like he’s found a whole new planet or something, and Richard can feel himself just….racing forward towards that smile, just with like empty pockets and a bucket, just trying to hold on to as much of it as he can before it vanishes, he can’t help it, he can’t –

‘The texts were meant for you.’

Welp. There it is.

Richard can’t even – he’s not gonna blame himself. He held it together as long as he could, and that smile, fuck, if the CIA knew about that smile he’d never see Jared again, they’d just keep him in like a cage like Weapon Fucking X and only let him out to unleash him on like terror suspects until they cracked and told him everything, everything, Jared probably collects like five declarations of undying love and twenty secrets on his way from his condo to his car, he probably thinks that’s how people say ‘Good morning’.

Jared’s staring at Richard. The smile’s vanished. ‘Richard?’

Richard swallows. Fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater. Is about to gnaw at his fingernails when Jared’s giant hand reaches out to gently capture his.

Oh God.

‘Richard?’ Jared’s looking earnestly at Richard. ‘What did you mean?’

Richard sighs. Manages to make eye contact for one entire second before his gaze falls. ‘The messages were – they were for you.’

When Richard risks a look up, he can see Jared’s lowered his own eyes. When he speaks, his voice is carefully calm. The voice he uses when he doesn’t want Richard to freak the fuck out. ‘Richard? I think we may need to have a different kind of discussion.’

Richard nods, miserably.

Jared takes in a breath. ‘Okay, we first need to establish – Richard, what was the nature of the reaction you were hoping for?’

What was Richard hoping for?

What was Richard hoping for?

Oh, hell no.

No no no no no no NO.

‘It – Jared, how can that – I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s – fucking – I’m really sorry, it was… seriously fucking not okay, and I’m really sorry, and it was my fault, and –’

‘I meant’, continues Jared, pinkly but firmly, ‘was this horsing around, or a – booty call, with - ’

‘I like you’, says Richard, because God help him he wants Jared desperately but nobody – nobody - wants to hear Jared Dunn say things like ‘booty call’. ‘I like you – fuck – I like you so fucking much, you’re so, with your, your eyes, and your hands, and your hair, and you’re so good so fucking good at fucking everything and you, you fix things, and you, you’re so fucking stupidly perfect and like I don’t even know why you’re still here but don’t leave Jared please I can, I can manage this, you’ll never hear about it again, I promise, Jared, I-’

Richard stops because Jared’s hand on his has tightened. He leans in to Richard and kisses him.

Gently.

The lightest, sweetest kiss, just….gracing Richard’s mouth. Just…showing him how those soft, full lips might feel.

A tease, really.

So Richard’s also not gonna blame himself for attacking Jared when he pulls away.

Or for scrambling onto Jared’s lap and nearly knocking them both to the floor.

Or for fisting his hands into Jared’s sweet-smelling hair.

Or for biting at that lush bottom lip.

Anyway, Richard’s vindicated when Jared takes control of the kiss, deepening it, spearing his fingers through Richard’s hair, chasing every atom of breath Richard has.

When they part, winded and staring at each other, Richard knows he’s grinning and thinks he’ll probably never stop. And Jared’s eyes are shining, so impossibly bright.

‘How long?’ breathes Jared, and Richard has to think for a moment before he realises what Jared means and shrugs helplessly.

‘I don’t – those messages? I’ve had…something like them….in my drafts folder for….I mean, they were nicer, like…not like….and they were like spelled properly and, and I was like asking you out or whatever and – they weren’t gross like those ones but….yeah. Months. Like – god, Jared, a year? At least? Longer, I think.’ He looks at Jared. ‘You?’

Jared laughs a little. ‘Oh, Richard. Always. The instant you walked away from Gavin, I knew.’

Richard’s brain short-circuits. ‘We could’ve been – we could’ve – for a year?’

A year’s worth of, of kissing, and, and looking, and touching and – oh God – permission to touch, and and saying things, and – every day they could have – every hour, every – oh, they have a lot to make up. Starting now.

Jared licks his lips and Richard groans, leaning forward. Jared puts his hand over Richard’s mouth, gently. ‘Richard, I – Richard, we should have a discussion about … the implications for the sexual harassment policy and workplace conduct, it would be - ’

Richard licks Jared’s palm, a wet, hungry sweep, and relishes his friend’s shudder. ‘I know, Jared, I know.’

‘Richard – Richard, darling, I’m serious, we have to outline protocols for – mmph!’

‘I know’, says Richard, against Jared’s mouth, ‘I do, I do, Jared, I’m listening, just-’

‘We’ll need to’, gasps Jared, wrenching his mouth away from Richard’s, ‘ensure that we have clauses in place protecting –  oh – the company, and – and us – from – oh Richard, darling, yes, like that – abuses, we - ’

‘Anything’, says Richard, ‘anything.’ He pulls off Jared’s long throat, bared just so for him. ‘You don’t – Jared, you don’t taste of autumn.’

Jared angles his head in unquestionable invitation for Richard to nibble and suck beneath his ear. ‘N- no?’

‘No’, says Richard, giddy with delight. ‘You – Jared, you taste of spring.’