Tie Cherry Stems With My Tongue

tie cherry stems with my tongue

Stiles Stilinski x reader

Sinfully indulgent. Unadulterated filthy fluff, just utter decadence. (Bathtub sex. It's bathtub sex.)

This is sort of an unofficial gift for one of you who rbed ykhtp with the most delightful tags which i reread daily but whom i don't have the guts to personally call out so... hope you recognise urself and enjoy, I made this for you <3

3.3k words

Today, Stiles came home for the first time all year. The FBI had sent him eastward to solve a string of maulings in Louisiana, larceny in Maryland, arson in Tennessee. Bringing him back to Beacon Hills had been a tedious affair, endless rigmarole, bureaucracy and paperwork until you snapped and insisted that your wedding anniversary was coming up fast, and if they didn't let you celebrate together so help you God—

They released Stiles 'on ordinary furlough for the end-of-year holidays.' Yeah, right. Spiteful fuckers.

He texted you all the way up until he had to set his phone on airplane mode, and called you the second he touched ground. By the time he'd fetched his luggage and slogged through customs, you were waiting to pick him up with a bundle of Swiss chocolates.

"Babe, over here! Long time no see!" He waved at you from across the gates, smile dazzling. The closer he got, the more you feared going permanently blind from the sheer mirth he radiated. "God, I missed you so much."

"Welcome back, stranger," you grinned and hugged him one-handed so as not to crush the delicacies.

He enveloped you in a bear hug, so much bigger and stronger than the spindly teen you fell for, yet no less adorable. Your face nuzzled in his chest, his own head atop yours, and your arm could hardly circle his back.

"I love you," he said against your ear, tightening the embrace.

Eyes shut, you basked in the warmth of his presence. "I love you too."

At your request, he'd ditched the suit and dressed in plain civilian clothes, chinos and an old Star Wars tee you'd gifted him on his sixteenth birthday. The fabric was still soft, though worn and washed out in places, smelling distinctly of cedar and magnolia. How he stuck to the same brands of cleaning products you used still amazed you. When you'd asked, he had explained it made everything, even government-issued outfits and impersonal hotel rooms, feel a bit more like home, like waking in your arms and wearing the laundry that just came out of the dryer.

"Okay, big man, you're smothering me," you giggled after almost a full minute, tapping his shoulder.

"No I'm not," he pouted like a kid. He sounded simultaneously sulky and smug as his hands slid to your waist and he pressed his forehead to yours. "I was exceedingly careful, my hugs are optimised to please and comfort you. It's a finely honed skill, okay? You gotta respect the hugs."

"Aw, I do," you said and kissed him — you'd meant for it to be chaste and quick, public setting obliging, but couldn't help lingering when he moved against your lips. Catching a breath, you intoned, "Let's take this home, yeah? I've booked us a table at The Silk Road for half past seven. Plenty of time to do whatever we want until then."

"Have I told you I love you?"

You proffered the box of chocolates and hummed, "Tell me again when you've tasted these."

"I love you, you're the best."

He pulled away, one hand still on your hip, and balanced the present on his bag. A part of him was keen to follow you to your shared house (and, if your implicit promise held up, bed); another was too enthralled in the immediate instant to exercise something as pedestrian as patience. Scanning your face, he brushed against your lips whenever he caught a lapse in your attention, like a cat pouncing on a distracted mouse and letting it run off only to keep hunting it.

"Hey, watch yourself. People are staring," you playfully admonished as he missed your lips and nipped your neck instead.

"So what?"

"You shameless flirt." You rolled your eyes and headbutted him lightly when he dipped again.

Miraculously, you drove home without the beloved Jeep (you took it out of retirement to greet its owner) breaking down or Stiles getting distracted off the motorway. A close brush, or so you feared, considering neither his gaze nor his hands had any interest in leaving your body.

As the engine sputtered to a halt, he sped around to open your door and escort you out of the car.

"Why, thank you, kind dear," you put on a posh, nasal voice, soon breaking into laughter. "God, did the FBI fix you up with a crash course in chivalry? I might have to recommend them to Theo."

Stiles' nose scrunched up. "Eeeh, yeah, he's a piece of work." His cheery mood brightened his face again as he walked you to the front door. "Glad you're likin' the manners. There's more where that came from."

"I can't wait," you said, fetching the keys from your purse.

When the house was open and you'd taken a step over the threshold, Stiles didn't. He stood in awe and nostalgia, nudging you back. His hands clutched yours, thumb rubbing circles in your palm, and he stared with those shiny honeyed eyes full to the brim with a love like champagne — bright and bubbly and intoxicating.

"What?" You couldn't help a chuckle. "Chickening out so close?"

His smile was wide and floaty. "It's like our first date," he mused. "I want to kiss you."

"You can."

He cupped your cheeks, pushed himself against you, into your home, lips on sweet lips. A purely gluttonous appetite. His hands moved to cradle your face and cling to your neck, tilting you to his level, and you answered in kind. You pressed into his mouth, draping over the protective breadth of his shoulders and locking your bodies together. Drinking him in, indulging in the mead of his tongue.

You parted with a gasp, airily giggling, "Close the door, close the door."

He nodded keenly and licked his lips, so near to you he grazed yours. An arm under your ass, he hoisted you up against his body in one fluid and effortless motion, earning a delighted squeal. His free hand fumbled with the lock.

"You're using the wrong key," you pointed out.

"What? Nooo—" He finally looked away from you long enough to recognise the shed key. "—oh yeah. My bad, I got distracted by your pretty face."

"I noticed." You kissed the corner of his lips. "C'mon, close the door, and we can go for a nice bath."

"Babe, you have the best ideas."

Task accomplished, he carried you to the second floor. Your kitten heels slid off, clattering down the steps, when he lifted you more cozily on his hip and you wrapped your legs around his waist, ankles crossed. You nestled your chin in the crook of his neck, well aware that if he focused on your eyes over the stairs, he'd trip and break both of your spines. Even then, you couldn't resist kissing the underside of his jaw. He tensed under your lips, sucking in a breath, and retaliated with a squeeze of your butt. Your squeak faded into a giggle.

At the bathroom door, he nudged it ajar with his foot. The fluffy rug prevented it from opening all the way, but a thrust of his hips as he sidled in was more than enough to solve the issue. Balancing on one leg, he flicked the faucet on. You reached for the bottle of bubble bath over his shoulder, then twisted to pour half a cup in the hot stream.

"More," he said.

"It's almost empty."

"Let's finish it."

Nodding, you shook every droplet of soap out and set the container on the sink as a reminder to buy another later. The bath filled up fast, half water and half popping and glimmering bubbles.

"You can let me down now," you said and loosened your grip around him. Still, he held you up without letting you slip an inch.

"Oh, I would never." If his hands were free, he'd press one to his chest in mock offense. His head rolled dramatically to make up for the lack of gesticulating.

You tapped his shoulder. "Har-har. You know what I mean."

"If you're so sure 'bout that — alrighty then." Shrugging, he dropped you into the tub, a large splash drowning out your startled shriek.

"Stiles!"

"You asked for it."

You grabbed the hem of your t-shirt between your thumb and middle finger, and peeled the wet fabric off your chest. As it clung to the skin and detached with a shwop, you stuck out your tongue. Ugh. And you couldn't even be mad at him if you wanted to, because he's just that cute.

"I can't believe I'm going to make sweet love to you," you sighed, nose scrunched, something of an unsettling groan in your weary tone.

"You... don't have to...?"

"No, no, I will." You flicked soapy water at him. "So get in here already."

"Absolutely, ma'am. Just a sec—" He fumbled with his shoes, hopping on one foot as he tugged the other free. "I got this, I got this." Eventually, he discarded footwear and belt, but kept the rest, if only to match your drenched outfit. "Okay, here goes."

You folded your knees to your chest to make room for him. Bracing himself on the edge of the tub, he dipped a toe in, and his face contorted like he'd bitten into a lemon.

"Oh God, wet socks, freaking hell — gah, too late to back away now. Go go go, I can do this." And all at once, he sank under the abundant sheet of bubbles, the top of his head emerging with a white top.

"Congratulations, baby," you grinned and pulled him in for a kiss.

He kissed back eagerly, arms propped on either side of your head. His body pressed into yours, buoyed just enough not to crush you yet still delightfully there. Tethering you, grounding you. As his lips parted, a wave dragged him backwards. He wedged a knee between your legs as you hooked an ankle around his waist, secure against one another, and deepened the embrace as though to spite the water itself.

You melted in his mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair to drag him closer. One of his hands cupped your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek and settling on your chin, nudging your lips wider agape. And still, his hungry kiss enveloped you, consumed you. His tongue brushed yours. Moaning, you curled against his body, against the clothes in your way.

"Fuck, Stiles," you whispered in the fast breaths between kisses. "Take my — clothes off — now."

He broke away, forehead to forehead, hovering so near to the glistening red of your lips. God, he could keep kissing you forever. He wanted this, wanted you, wanted more.

"I'll do yours if you do mine," he said, half sigh half laugh.

Nodding, you tore apart from him, reluctant to no longer feel him yet keen for what was to come. "You first."

He rolled your shirt over your chest, bunching it up in one hand as he traced the gentle curve of your breast. Not too close, not too brazen — but teasing, yearning. Biting your lip, you shuddered as he grazed a budding nipple, circling the dark, sensitive spot.

"I've missed those beauties," he said. "They're even prettier than I remember. Just wanna grab and squeeze 'em until you're a whining mess, begging for more."

That might come much sooner than you think. You didn't dare speak that aloud. It would be too embarrassing to admit how easy you became under his touch, how he could graze your skin and you would remember the heat of his fingertips forever.

"Go ahead," you said. "Please."

"Please? Ah, that's so unfair. I can't refuse my sweetie when she's so polite."

He slid the clothes off and tossed it aside, water sloshing over in his haste. What a mess you'd have to clean. No matter. Stiles' mouth on your breasts took your mind off any chores that could have bothered you. He kissed the underside delicately, feathery pecks and the occasional nibble, never drawing blood, just marking his path. You hummed in anticipation.

Playing with his hair, you let your head lull on the edge of the tub. The heat of his tongue dissolved in the steam and warm waves, everywhere at once, cradling your whole body in tender pleasure. Bask in it. Revel in the silk and velvet. You imagined more — his hands groping and clinging, his fingers curling in you, his thighs and his back and all of him, all of him, all of him. Just for you.

As he ventured higher, he got cheekier, more aggressive. Biting here, sucking a hickey there; staining your chest such pretty reds and charming purples. Little reminders that you would stroke every morning as you donned your shirt, and think of tonight and long for him to return before they faded.

"Ah, ow," you sucked in a breath when his teeth closed over your collarbone, tugging him off by his soft chestnut locks. "Careful, honey."

"So sorry, babe," he said. He kissed you in apology, deep and earnest, and for a moment you tasted a tangy droplet of your own blood before it was washed down by his intoxicating passion. "M'gonna make it up to you. Gonna make you feel so good. What do you want? How can I spoil you?"

With a low hum of contemplation, you ran your fingers down his neck and your lips along his jaw. A faint brush, a thoughtful caress. He didn't dare move against it lest you stopped.

You pushed him against the tub so you towered over him, legs on either side of his thighs, hands flat on his chest. From his thrumming heart, over his abs, under the hem of the soaked tee. You hiked it up just enough to expose his happy trail. A breath stuttered in his throat, a hopeful shine in his honey eyes which you couldn't resist.

"I want you," you said, nibbling his earlobe, "to moan."

And he obliged, the sound a song to your ears.

"To say my name," you continued, and kissed down a sinew to his pumping jugular. His husky voice trembled, hitching in his throat, tickling your lips.

"To tell me how good I feel."

You brought your hips down, grinding against the stiff bump in his pants. The taut, wet fabric outlined his erection. He shuddered, biting his lip, and you traced the dark hairs from his bellybutton to his zipper.

"Fuck, Y/N," he chased a breath, hands on your arms, stilling you. "You're amazing, you're perfect — I just, I just wanna make this about you, you know? Spoil you well and good. God, you deserve it, I wanna give it to you."

"It is about me. I'm leading the dance," you said.

To drive your point home, you unbuttoned his trousers and dragged them down. He keenly lifted and shimmied his ass to help, spilling water everywhere. Once undressed, he returned the favour with the excitement of opening a gift on Christmas morning.

"You're sure, yeah? Don't want me to take charge for a bit?" He asked when your jeans were at your ankles. He slid a hand between your thighs, lightly squeezing as he drew closer to your core. Teasing grin, playful eyes.

"Stiles," you moaned his name, bucking into his touch. "I want you inside me. Can you do that for me, babe? Can you fuck me?"

He swore his dick twitched from your words alone. Even at his mercy, dependant on his whims, you had all powers over him, held him in the palm of your pretty, pretty hand. "God, fuck, yes, I can. I can. Anything for you, sweetheart."

He raised your knees over his shoulders and nestled cozily between your legs. Your feet still pinned together. He could do anything he wanted, move and use you as he wished, and yet he desired nothing more than to do what you demanded.

One hand on your thigh and the other on your hip, he angled and lined your eager pussy with his cock.

The first few inches, you flinched — not from pain, never from pain, not when he paid such careful attention to your every reaction. But when he was above you like this, he felt so big, and you, so small. You just had to hold your breath as he pushed into you, spreading your tender walls to fit the whole length and girth of him.

"Shit, I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No," you exhaled slowly, settling into it, body relaxing. You felt the pulsing and throbbing of his veiny dick against each lust-swollen nerve. "It's perfect, you're so good to me. Couldn't be better."

"You tell me if it hurts, okay? Please."

"Of course."

"Good, great, perfect," he smiled and kissed you.

Gently, he started rocking into you. Just getting you used to the sensation again, stretching you out little by little, building up to a wider movement, a faster pace. You hummed and made high-pitched mewls as he thrust so softly it tickled.

"Give me more," you ordered, trying oh-so-hard not to whine, not to beg, "I need more, I need all of you. I need to feel you."

He withdrew all but the tip, then rammed back in to the hilt, balls slapping your ass. You squeaked, eyes blown, digging your nails in his shoulders from the sheer shock of pleasure that jolted throughout your body.

"This good? Enough for you?" His new rhythm, blissful strikes into your softest depths, had you moaning and mewling. "Does my cock feel good? Am I making you feel good, or do you need more? I'll give you everything, just say the words."

"Oh fuck, Stiles, this is — perfect, perfect, please don't stop. You're so fucking good."

He groped your bottom, pulling you up as he thrust down even deeper, shifting your legs around his waist to reach new angles. When he hit your sweet spot, you cried out and clamped down on him reflexively.

"There?" He growled in your ear, his own breaths barely under control. He plowed into you again, and again, and again — and each time drew the same ecstatic moan from your lips.

"Yes, fuck, yes. Please."

Ripples upon ripples of pleasure, each faster than the last, grew into hotter waves within your body, until you reached your tipping point — and bliss drowned your mind in searing white. Your thighs tightened around him, drawing him deeper, keeping him as close as you possibly could. Toes curling, heels pressing into his lower back like a cat in heat. Fuck, it was too much, too fast, too big.

"Stiles, Stiles, I'm — ah, ah, fuck — Stiles, please."

"I know, baby," his voice rumbled right into the pit of your stomach. Gripping your waist to bruising, he thrust faster and faster, each strike igniting fireworks behind your eyelids. "Fuck, you feel so good, so hot — just come with me, you can do that, yeah? Come for me."

And you did, fuck, you did. Exactly as he asked, like a good girl.

Your body tensed and shuddered around him, and he shook with pleasure, pressing down on you fully, too exerted to hold himself up. His cock throbbed, surged with his release, filled you up until you were gushing from your combined orgasms.

"Oh my God," you heaved. Your muscles relaxed one by one, all strength spent, floating on cloud nine. "You're amazing, Stiles. That was so good."

He freed your ankles from your jeans, tossing it away, and eased you against him. Brushing your hair, he chuckled, "How do you ever manage without me, huh?"

"Don't say that," you said as you idly grabbed the soap, "or I might not let you leave me again."

"Maybe I'd like that."

Richie Boyle NSFW Alphabet Please

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 (18+)

!!ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨.

ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs!!

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ, ʙᴅsᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ɪᴍʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ.

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘨𝘺𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 (𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘶’𝘴) 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 50𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘶𝘱!

𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐁𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 18+.

𝐀 =𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱. 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐁 = 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭/𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧. 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬. 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡.

𝐂 = 𝐂𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐤. 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝.

𝐃 = 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨.

𝐄 = 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭.

𝐅 = 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱.

𝐆 = 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐲

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫  𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, “𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐡𝐮𝐡?”

𝐇 = 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐈 = 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲

𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

𝐉 = 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐬, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐝𝐬. 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐊 = 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

𝐋 = 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝟔𝟗 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐌 = 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐢𝐭’𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝐍 = 𝐍𝐨

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬. 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐧𝐨, 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧.

𝐎 = 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐏 = 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞

𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.

𝐐 = 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤. 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬.

𝐑 = 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞/𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝.

𝐒 = 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞. 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤.

𝐓 = 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.

𝐔 = 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐢𝐭.

𝐕 = 𝐕𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥

𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥, 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 ‘𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤’ 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐖 = 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝

𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧, 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭.

𝐗 = 𝐗-𝐑𝐚𝐲

𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝟔 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬. 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡, 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐘 = 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤. 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐙 = 𝐙𝐳𝐳

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.

𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨. 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬!𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥!𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘫𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸!!!

˗ˏˋᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1.3ᴋ ´ˎ˗

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𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐛 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧. 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 “𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲” 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝. “𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲, 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞!” 𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡, 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟, 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩. 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲.

𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, “𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨. 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫?” 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐲𝐞𝐬’𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. “𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐭.”

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐱 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭.

𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲. 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐱, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧. 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, ‘𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐨’.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝟒 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲, 𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲, 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲.

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝟔 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞.

˗ˏˋᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 734 ´ˎ˗

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ @stilessbaseballbat @angelofthetrenchcoats @xo-circe @oh-kurva @hessafeelsfordayss @idylio24 @lilygreennn @screambih @ohwowimlonley @greengarsstuff @luhh-snow @whoaskedgabby24 @yktfv18poisonlvy

Okay, but- Dylan smoking while you ride him, just like that gif of him from The Outfit where he exhales the smoke through his nose, imagine him just laying back and watching you, one hand on your ass and he's just all soft whispers like "take it baby, good girl, get us both off, make yourself cum with it and then I'll give you mine"

Dylan O'Brien x Female Reader

warning: 18+ w/ sexual situations, language, and smoking /

gif credit to @/davidsfincher

You didn't know what came over you, but when you walked into the living room and saw him smoking, you were instantly turned on. Dylan rarely smoked, it was a habit he picked up whenever he was stressed or his anxiety got to him a little too much. But when Dylan looked towards you from across the living room, and you watched the slow smirk cross over his lips - it was over.

Never have you moved across the living room so fast, throwing your top off and tossing it somewhere in the living room. Dylan cursed low under his breath as you dropped down between his open legs and eagerly pulled down his pants. He was barely able to form words when your hand wrapped around him, pumping his cock, before taking him down your throat.

"Keep it in," You told him when you pulled back, your lips swollen from sucking his cock. Dylan's brow rose slightly and stared down at you with his cigarette between his two fingers.

"Fuck," Dylan cursed when you took off your shorts, before straddling over him and sinking down around his cock. His one hand reached out and gripped tightly to your waist as you started to ride him.

Neither of you was going to last long - and you were ok with that.

Dylan looked down and watched as you sank down over him. Being turned on more and more from the erotic noise of your pussy taking him.

"...just like that, good girl...fucking take all of it." Dylan moaned "Look so good on my cock..."

You whimpered softly as you moved to rest your hands on the top of his thighs using it as leverage as you moved on top of him. Dylan let out a deep groan from within his chest as he watched you, using his hands to move up your body. The both of you were covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the room feeling hot and sticky with the musky smell of sex in the air.

"...oh fuck," You cried out as he teased your nipple, sending a shiver through your body. Your nails dug into his skin at the top of his thigh, and Dylan liked how it turned him on more. The small bits of pain mix with the pleasure.

You looked down towards him, seeing him rested against the back of the couch, a cigarette between his lips. The dark look in his eyes only had you clenching and pulsing around him more. His brows pulled together tightly as he tried to concentrate on not coming inside of you - he wanted more before it was over.

"...Dylan...oh...god, I love it...love your cock." You moaned as your hand moved down, your fingers rubbing against your clit knowing your orgasm was fast approaching.

Dylan moved the cigarette from between his lips, you watched as the smoke pushed through from his nose before coming from between his lips. He smirked when you clenched around him more, your eyes becoming more hooded. He reached over and placed the cigarette into the ashtray on the side table, before moving his hands to grab your ass and pull you towards him more.

A small scream came from you when you felt his hand smack against your ass, before grabbing them again and helping you move faster atop of him. Your hands moved to grab the back of the sofa, with your forehead pressed against his. You could still smell the slight scent of the cigarette between the two of you. Your nails dug into the soft cloth of the couch as you felt his pubes rubbing against your clit.

It felt so good, your moans growing louder and louder letting Dylan know how good it felt. This man knew your body and what made you feel good - how to make your toes curl and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

"...yes, yes...oh, just like that...please..." You begged

Dylan smacked your ass again, eliciting another small scream before you mewled softly. It was like you were getting drunk off his cock.

"...take it, baby, good girl, get us both off...make yourself cum with it, and then I'll give you mine" Dylan spoke, his voice becoming thicker and deeper "...you want that baby? Want me to fill up this pretty little pussy?"

"yes, yes...yes..." You chanted before your body began to tense above him. "Dylan! Oh...fuck, I'm cumming...ugh!"

You fell against him as your body shuttered from the power of your orgasm, it washing over your body and having you lose strength. Your head rested into the crook of his neck, your moans muffled slightly, but your hips still moving against him.

After only a moment, you pulled back and kissed along his neck, feeling him move you faster up and down his cock. His breath was becoming shorter with each stroke - Dylan was close.

Your pussy was too good, nearly too perfect. He loved how your pussy seemed to pull him in deeper like it was begging for his cum to fill you. How slick you were, and warm. It was his heaven.

"...give it to me, Dylan. I want it. I wanna feel you, I want your cum inside of me..." You whispered in his ear.

His grip tightened on your ass and he let out a deep, almost animalistic, groan from within his chest. His head falling back against the couch - your name leaving his lips over and over.

You moaned as you felt him, knowing he was filling you, just like he promised.

The two of you relaxed against one another on the couch, his hands moving up along your back before his hand grabbed the back of your neck gently, lifting your head so he could kiss you. Dylan's lips moved against yours in a lazy kiss. Neither of you making a move to pull away from the other.

Congratulations on the 500 followers dear Jemma!!! Can I request “i’ve been flirting with you for the last six months, thanks for noticing.” for Joel? xx

SEND ME A PROMPT FOR MY 500 SLEEPOVER!

"I'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR THE LAST SIX MONTHS, THANKS FOR NOTICING."

Your hands were thrown in the air, face etched with annoyance in the form of furrowed brows and scowled lips. Your body was saturated from the river you had clawed your way out of, and honestly, you weren't in the mood for the confession Joel had just pushed toward you. You tugged the clinging wet fabric of your jacket from your arms, the heap dropping beside your feel with a loud thump before hands were wringing out the bottom of your t-shirt. Joel looked just as frustrated, if not more, as he refused to look your way and instead kicked off his shoe to tip out the strange green liquid pooled inside. His shouted words ran through your mind on a loop - refusing to make sense, not with the situation you had found yourself in over the past five days.

"Then why the hell are we going to Aimee's bunker, huh? Why did you drag me out of our little home to cross the goddamn surface then, huh?!" You sounded back to him, your voice as loud as it was first produced toward you.

It all started when he called you reckless for trying to kill one of the creatures you both came across - your courage prompting a brief moment of bravery as you got too close in order to shoot it through the heart with accuracy. You asked why he cared so damn much, why he was so scared, why he was so concerned for your safety. The truth was revealed shortly after, and Joel was stuck when he admitted the feelings that he was harboring for you. The confession struck your heart immediately, suddenly conflicted and elated, a mixture of emotions that pulled you from side to side.

"We just are, okay? I've already made the decision, might as well finish what was started." He was mumbling, childishly quietening his voice to express his annoyance. He was still making a point of not even glancing toward you, dissension within himself about how he was supposed to feel and just who he was supposed to feel it for.

On one hand, he had loved Aimee for seven years, or so he thought. The desperation to find her since the apocalypse became his number one priority in the bunker, and when he heard her voice over the radio for the first time, his heart soared. On the other hand, there was you, a benevolent surprise he didn't see coming. You had stood by his side for seven years and the friendship you grew easily became one of Joel's most valued possessions. He didn't expect to fall for you, but he did. It wasn't until he thought that you didn't feel the same way back, that Joel decided that maybe he was meant to be with Aimee after all.

You grunted, his answer not nearly satisfying your curiosity. Joel was holding something back from you and there's no way in hell you were going to let something else go unsaid. A deep breath was taken in, your chest puffing out in preparation to yell out your anger once more, but the way Boy flinched out the corner of your eye reminded you that this wasn't a screaming match - it was a misunderstanding, a collection of new and different emotions that floated aimlessly between you and Joel. You managed to sigh it out, your shoulders slumping in defeat. You were tired. "Joel, please..." You started, walking cautiously toward him as your hand sat upon his shoulder.

He didn't shrug it off, so you continued, "Why are we really going to find Aimee? Why am I going with you?" Your voice was gentle, quiet, a severely softened version from the tone that you exercised only moments earlier. He released a sigh of his own, followed by his large hand dragging down the stressed expression adorning his face. You deserved to know the truth, whether it changes anything or not, Joel wanted you to know.

He turned slightly to the side, your hand only gripping his shoulder harder before he reached up to encase his own over your hold. His thumb rubbed subconsciously over your damp, cold skin. "I don't think I'm good at this whole, flirting, thing. The last time I showed interest in someone was seven years ago, and even then, I had no idea what I was doing." He managed a gentle chuckle at the reminder, causing you to copy the welcomed happy sound. Joel smiled widely at your reciprocation, "When you didn't... I felt like you weren't interested. Honestly, I find you fascinating. You made me forget about Aimee... and I started thinking about what life would be like if I could hold you, and kiss you... touch you."

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, capturing the way his lips pulled upward in a smile of pure joyousness as he spoke about you, of all people. "You could've just said something." You replied, rolling your eyes in a playful manner as Joel's new facial expression - his eyebrows furrowed and sarcastic scrunch of his eyes as if to say 'really'. You poked his side with your spare hand resulting in his fingers only squeezing your other one tighter. "Okay, okay... I get it, you're an awkward little shit. But don't worry, it's endearing."

He scoffed, pretending that he didn't hear your last comment, although the grin remained between his flushed cheeks. It quickly faded though when he peered down to his battered converse, "I was hoping that finding Aimee would fix this hole in my heart, maybe that's where the pain stemmed from, even though I know now that it wasn't her that caused the hurt." He toed the ground before kicking a stick behind Boy, the loyal companion running after it as if a game had been initiated. Joel cleared his throat, "It was unsafe back there, at the bunker. I'd rather know that you were safe, even if it was up here with me. I just... needed to know that you'd be okay."

The pieces of the puzzle that was Joel Dawson began to slowly come together, prompting you to launch forward and embrace him in an overdue hug. He smelled terrible, and you supposed that you did as well, but having him in your arms was enough to bring a beautiful warmth to the pit of your stomach. "You're an idiot, I'm an idiot... we're both stupid. I thought you were so hung up on Aimee this whole time, and you were just being nice to me because everybody had someone... even if yours was through a radio, and I just had Gertie." You snorted at the thought of your animal friend, Joel joining through a hearty laugh that made your head spin.

You pulled back, only barely, as his arms secured around your waist; the perfect space between you as you looked up into his whisky-toned eyes, "I like you, I just thought you were in love with somebody else."

Joel shook his head, "I loved the idea of what Aimee and I had, but it's you that has my heart, completely."

"And that's what we call good flirting, Joel Dawson."

Omg for the prompts: “if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up” !!!! It can be for whatever character/real Dylan, doesn’t matter, I know you’ll do it justice 😄

OoOOoOo!

I realllllllly hope I can, anon. I'm sure as hell gonna try ;)

I'm gonna write this with Dylan, because I'm the most confident in my ability to write him well. I hope that's okay <3 This is phone sex... so like... warning?

Prompt list HERE

Tell Me

What hell time is it? Is that your phone? God, you hated falling asleep on the couch. You always woke up so confused. It was just supposed to be one more episode, but that turned into four and at some point, you'd fallen asleep. It took you a few moments to come around to even be certain your phone was actually ringing before you reached over and snatched it from the coffee table. 4 AM.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath before you registered who was calling. It was Dylan. You swiped to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, you."

"Is everything okay?" you asked, rubbing your knuckles into your eye to clear the fog.

"Yeah. Everything's fine."

That was a relief, but now you were a little annoyed. "You do realize it's four in the morning here, right?"

"Shit."

You could tell by his tone that it had entirely slipped his mind that he was on the other side of the world. He was filming in Australia, and even after three weeks, he hadn't quite sorted out that he was living almost a full day in the future.

"I'm sorry. I'm an ass. I just..."

He sounded genuinely sorry, and you couldn't really be upset when you heard his voice. It was hard to find time to talk when he was so far away, so now was honestly as good a time as any.

"Just what?"

"Nothin'..."

He was doing that stupid annoyingly cute thing he did where he feigns being coy when he really has nefarious intent.

"Dyl?" you questioned, sitting up a bit on the couch.

"It's just..." he paused, but when he started talking again, his tone changed. There was a slick darkness to it. "I miss you..."

This little shit called for phone sex at 4 in the fucking morning!? "Are you seriously— If you called just to get off on my voice, I'm hanging up."

"Well..." he hummed. "I didn't just call to get off on your voice." It was annoying that he could be so charming while he was perving from another continent.

"Oh no?"

"Thought I could get you off on mine too."

Distance was a frequent enemy for the two of you, so you were no strangers to phone sex, but he wasn't usually so forward. It generally just kind of organically happened during a conversation that began elsewhere.

"You still there?"

"Yeah, yeah...I'm here."

"Well..." His voice was sweet like honey, "interested?

You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, listening to him softly breathing as he awaited your response.

"Yes."

"Mmm," he hummed in approval. "Good." You heard a few shuffling sounds before he spoke again. "So I woke you, huh? Wish I was in that bed with you."

You smiled. "I'm on the couch."

"Mmm, okay...What are you wearing?" His voice is muffled for a short moment, like he was blocking his mic.

You look down at your body and grinned because you knew he'd like it. "Those little shorts you like and one of your t-shirts..."

"Mmm."

You could hear the smile on his face.

"Which one?" More shuffling.

"Icee..."

"Oh, I like that one...can't believe I left it there."

"I thought you left it for me," you teased.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm..." you wiggled a bit, getting more comfortable. "Looks better on me..."

Dylan laughed softly. "You're right..."

You smirked, worrying your lower lip between your teeth for a moment before you posed a question of your own. "What about you? What are you wearing?"

"Nothing."

"Oh." Your eyes widened. That must have been what you'd been hearing. He'd been taking off his clothes. "Not wasting any time..."

"Mmm, nope. You should probably catch up."

"Yeah?" you questioned, looking around the room at the floor-to-ceiling windows. "You want me to strip naked right here in the living room?"

"It's 4 AM... no one's gonna see..."

You considered just telling him you were naked when you weren't, but that hint of mischief in his voice emboldened you a bit. You set your phone on the arm of the couch behind you and pulled his t-shirt up over your head, accidentally knocking your phone off onto the rug.

"What was that?"

You picked it up from the floor. "The phone was a casualty of my superior stripping skills," you smiled.

He huffed out a little amused breath. "You naked yet?"

"No...not entirely."

"Shirtless?"

"Mhm."

The little groan he let out was so amusing to you. You wished you could see him. He always looked so good when he was desperate.

"Cold in here..." You ran your fingertips down the center of your chest, hoping he was imagining how you must look with your nipples peaked.

"Fuck..." he muttered. "Wish I was there to suck on those pretty things..."

Those words struck a chord and you traced your finger around one of your breasts, tantalizingly slow. You loved how he practically worshipped you with his mouth. You were sure he'd explained every inch of your skin with his mouth and tongue, but his particular fondness for teasing your breasts was well-documented.

"Touch them..." his breathing was a bit more uneven than it'd been before. "Squeeze your nipples and imagine it's me."

You sighed as your fingers traced over the hardened peak of your breast before you pinned it between your thumb and forefinger. You moaned as your eyes fluttered closed and your mind's eye conjured up a hazy image of him.

"Good?" he asked, his voice slick and low. You knew him so well you could tell his mouth was hanging open.

"Yes."

"Tell me..."

Your free hand glided across your skin to the other breast and your squeezed it in your hand, palming it gently before you pinched your nipple between your index and middle finger. "Feels good, but your mouth would feel better..."

"Shit..." His curse was abbreviated by a stuttered intake of breath. "You'd be writhing on the couch if I had my mouth on you."

You laughed softly, your hand gliding down to your navel, tracing soft little patterns on your skin. "Thinkin' about that making you hard?"

"I've been hard since you picked up the phone."

Those words hit different. The warmth that spread through you made your fingers and toes tingle, and you felt the desire pooling up between your legs. He'd made you wet with just a few little words.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Not yet."

You were impressed. He could behave sometimes, but he wasn't generally one to deny himself pleasure.

"Do you want me to?" he asked, practically purring into the phone.

You closed your eyes again and imagined him laying there naked on his bed, hard and desperate to touch himself, then you imagined the flex of his arm pulling the tendons to the surface when his long fingers wrapped their way around his length.

"Yes."

"You take those shorts off yet?"

Your fingers were teasing at the waistband of them, but you still had them on. "No."

"Take them off."

You obeyed, even though you knew it was more a request than a demand. You slid them down along with your underwear and kicked them off the side of the couch. "They're off..." you breathed, your fingertips gliding up the side of your thigh.

"Good..." he paused for a moment. "Want you to touch yourself when I do...at the same time."

"Okay..." you agreed, your hand gliding up over your thigh until your hand was resting near the heat of your core. You wished he was here. Wishing your hand was his. You missed him so badly you were burning need. Being with him like this was almost torturous because it only made you want him more, but it was better than not having him at all.

"Now."

You moaned as your fingers slipped into your heat. You were so wet already and it felt so good to hear the sounds he made in your ear.

"Feel good?" he panted.

"Mmmm," you hummed, chewing at your lip. "So good...I'm so wet..."

"Got you soaking our couch and I don't even get a taste..." he grunted before he continued. "That's such a fucking shame...you should probably do that for me too..."

Your finger swirled around your clit and you pressed your head back into the cushions as your back arched.

"Tell me how you taste..."

Your toes curled up when you could finally start to hear the sound of his fist working him over, the way his breathing was growing more erratic by the second. You wanted to please him, drive him as insane with need as you felt. You traced along your lower lip with your slick index finger before your tongue wet it and you drew it into your mouth.

The sinful noise he made when you exaggerated the sound of sucking on your finger let you know he was as desperate as you. "Tell me..." he whispered.

"Good...the way I always do..." you breathed, sliding your hand back down your body and between your legs. "But I wish I was sucking on something else..."

"Oh, God..." Dylan said between his teeth. "I wish I could fuck your mouth...so fucking bad."

"Mmm..." You squirmed imagining his hands in your hair, tugging you over his length while he bucks down your throat, but what you really wanted was him buried so deep inside you that you'd forget your name. "Just my mouth?"

He growled at that, the pace of that satisfying slapping sound of his fist quickening a touch more. "No."

You slipped your fingers back inside yourself and curled them up into that sweet spot inside you that made you see little stars. "What would you'd do if you were here right now...?"

He didn't answer right away, but you could still hear the frantic pace of his hand bringing him closer to release. "I'd pin you down on that couch...fold you in half...and fuck you so deep..." He sounded so breathless and gone that you knew he was on the brink. "Make you cum...feel you squeeze around me...fill you to the fuckin' brim..."

Your orgasm was building, like a wave just offshore about to break. The pressure, that ache for release. You were so close. "Dylan...I want you so fucking bad..."

"Me too, baby..." His words were soaked in sin, but there was a sweetness behind them too.

You were so God damn close, and knowing he was right there with you was making the whole thing so much better.

"Baby, holy fucking shit...I'm so close..." he didn't speak for a moment, but the sinful sounds coming out of his mouth didn't stop. He was moaning low and soft, and you could hear the way he was struggling to keep pace, and then it was like a rubber band snapped. "Fuck!" He called out your name and you knew he'd finished.

Your name on his tongue was more than enough to have you base jumping off that same ledge. You cried out in pleasure, his name and half-formed praise falling from your lips as you rode the high of release. You basked in the way it felt to be connected to him even though he was a world away. You nursed yourself through the throes of it, all the while listening to Dylan's heavy breathing in your ear.

"I fucking love you."