why do i keep having to say this, starbucks employees arent spelling your name wrong on purpose for “advertising” why do people believe this? we’re taught to try to spell names right or ask not purposefully spell them wrong so you’ll post them on social media and all get a chuckle at Those Dumb Baristas

Kinktober Day 3: Edgeplay, Knifeplay

Jack slid the flat of the blade along Rhys’ cock, a hairsbreadth away from the young man’s twitching, warm flesh. For once, Jack was a hell of a lot more nervous than Rhys was—his boyfriend looked down between his legs with a lot more lust than fear, his fingers clenched into the sheets with anticipation.

“God, Jack…” Rhys moaned at the press of the cool knife against his sock, a visible shiver running up his spine. He was so into it, and so was Jack, but he hadn’t expected his soft little cupcake to be into having a sharp blade so close to his most sensitive area.

“You…you really like this, don’t you sugar?” Jack mumbled, his breath wafting against the side of Rhys’ shaft. He kept his eyes on the blade, careful not to let it knick his boyfriend’s skin as he leaned in and began to mouth against Rhys’ cock.

“C-Course….I trust you…” The young man gasped at the dual touch, hands sliding up to his pillow to grasp tightly into the fabric. His hips pushed up in need, nearly causing the knife to slice into his skin. Jack pulled it a sliver away at the last second, his breath catching in his lungs.

“Jeez, Rhysie….you really are something, aren’t you?” Jack whispered incredulously against the side of Rhys’ cock, breathing coming a little bit faster as his stomach knotted with both arousal and anxiety. Rhys’ body shook with a laugh that edged a bit into hysteria, his eyes a little wild and a lot encouraging, enough so that Jack began to kiss and lick up and down the side of his boyfriend’s shaft.

“W-What? You get to be a freak every other day of the week—let me have this—“ Rhys moaned as Jack trailed the knife to the base of his cock, tickling the tip over his balls as he pushed his mouth over the head, letting it sink between his lips.

Worrisome as it was to risk potentially neutering Rhys, Jack couldn’t deny he looked damn good willingly pushing to the very limits of safe and sane.

Kinktober Day 3: Temperature Play, Sensory Deprivation

Sometimes, R&D invented something Jack wanted to test out personally first, before it got properly released to the public.

Usually he would take some of the fancier guns out, or occasionally play with grenade mods with an especially fun side-effect, but today he was delving into something a little bit different.

He turned the glowing blue shield over in his hands, feeling the chill of the metal surrounding the cryogenic core. He’d turned down the intensity of the effect already but it was still cold to the touch. Jack half-wondered if he should try to turn it down even further, but he was getting impatient.

The effect was immediate when Jack clipped it onto his lapel. He felt a cool sheen spread out from his core down to the tips of his fingers, like he’d just been dunked in a pool of frigid water. His skin tingled but his core stayed surprisingly warm, preventing any detrimental effects of the new shield.

Huh. Interesting.

Shield now equipped, he turned his attention to his poor PA, twitching and squirming all naked on the desk as he struggled to be patient with his ears and eyes taken away from him. Much as Jack loved seeing the lust in Rhys’ eyes, he looked damn attractive with the golden blindfold laid across his face, and the earmuffs clamped around his head drove it home how much Rhys would rely on the sense of touch alone to get off.

Jack raised his hand up before his own eyes with a smirk, a little flutter of cryogenic energy blossoming from his fingers as he stroked them together. He could see the goosebumps on Rhys’ bare thighs already rising, the activation of the new shield already bringing the temperature of the office down a couple of degrees.

“Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” Jack spoke as a force of habit—it didn’t really matter that Rhys’ ears were covered anyway, considering he just liked to hear himself talk. It took only one long strider to get from his chair to the desk, where Rhys’ legs hung off the edge at the knee. The PA’s cock had stiffened to half-mast while Jack had been busy preparing and activating the shield, still aroused from a few minutes ago, when Jack had disrobed him, tied his arms above his head, and took away his senses.

He started by touching Rhys’ lower thigh, just barely above the knee. The response was immediate—Rhys jolted atop the desk, one leg kicking out and barely brushing against Jack’s calf. His fingers curled into fists in their bonds and his head listed to the side, mouth open.

“A-agh….” Rhys voice trickled out, a strangle between pain and pleasure. Without use of his ears he couldn’t hear himself, couldn’t tailor the sounds he made due to embarrassment, and what came out instead sent anticipatory shivers up Jack’s spine. Oh, the noises he could wring out of his hapless PA.

He ran his hand further up Rhys’ thigh, fingers trailing delicate lines of chill up his quivering flesh. It earned him a slurred moan that grew louder in volume as he edged closer to Rhys’ erect cock, but instead of touching it just yet he drifted lower, to Rhys’ balls.

The PA’s spine twitched in a slight arch as Jack’s fingers lightly cupped his balls, the tips tickling at the tender flesh. They felt velvety smooth and warm to Jack’s chilled hand, though not for long, if Rhys’ shivers and shakes—and stiffening cock—were any indication. The contrast was lovely while it lasted, though.

“Looks like you could use a little warming up,” Jack chuckled as he moved his hand up, letting the chill emanating from his palm touch Rhys’ cock a moment before he properly grasped it. “Too bad I don’t think I’ll be able to help you much with that, though.”

This week is a little wonky with my work schedule so instead I’ll try to do CAH early next week! Like Monday/Tuesday, I need to work on some Halloween-themed cards

what are jack and rhys’ fav alcoholic drinks

“I know it hurts. I’m sorry.”

i’m not a doctor and fanfic is not a place to learn proper first aid

Rhys has a bad habit of forgetting when and when not to use his cybernetic arm.

A great time is when Jack is on his back, trying to fend off the last of a pack of psycho who thought it fun to try to take a bite out of him. Jack’s already cursing his decision to venture pass the boundaries of Hyperion’s latest outpost, despite being lulled into a false sense of security thanks to the forested terrain. Of course there’d be creeps everywhere on this damn planet, even in areas he thought might be a little more lush and quiet.

This stinking, slobbering asshole just won’t get off of him, and worse yet the jagged, rusty edge of that buzz-axe is trending uncomfortably close to Jack’s throat. He grunts and snarls and tries to push the psycho off of him, but the guy’s bearing down with his full weight and Jack’s gun had been knocked away in the struggle, leaving him defenseless.

Thankfully, Rhys has enough sense to pick it up and aim it properly—unfortunately, in his haste Jack sees, in his periphery, his boyfriend hold its handle in only one hand. The fleshy, easy to damage one.

Jack’s gun is a new, heavy-duty assault rifle with a low magazine but high than average damage. The whole reason they had ventured from the outpost in the first place was because Jack had wanted to test it out on some unsuspecting fauna, see just how much heat it could pack out in the field. Jack remembers trying it out a few times back on Helios’ shooting ranges, and while the thing is powerful it needs careful as hell handling, so the gunman doesn’t end up mangled in the hospital instead of the target. It’s a two-handed kind of weapon, and Rhys is standing there holding it with one like it’s a frikkin’ peashooter.

Before Jack can shout a warning Rhys has fired, and he sees the violent kickback shred his boyfriend’s arm backwards moments before the psycho’s brains explode all over his vision. The buzzaxe sinks harmlessly into the dirt besides Jack’s head as the bloody corpse flops forward, nearly getting the CEO a mouthful of splattered brains and bits of skull. He shoves it off of him quickly before swaying to his feet, able to make out tense noises of pain even with the tinnitus ringing in his ears.

Jack can already tell as he rushes over to his boyfriend’s side that Rhys’ arm has been dislocated by the kickback. It flops limply against the ground like it’s holding on only by the skin of his shoulder. Rhys’ teeth are clenched, face flushed with pain he futilely tries holding back. Jack sinks to his knees beside him, knocking away the gun as he examines his boyfriend’s injury.

Even beneath his clothes the joint looks visibly out of alignment, so bad that Jack grits his teeth in a wince. He carefully places his hand against Rhys’ shoulder but even that slight movement causes cries of pain to finally break free and proper from Rhys’ lips. Tears bead up in the boy’s eyes, the dam now broken as sobs rock through his chest, the trembling not helping the pain in the dislocated arm.

“Easy, easy pumpkin, just stay still okay?” Jack croons, any pride he feels at Rhys blowing a psycho’s whacked-up brains out now dampened slightly by his boyfriend’s pain. There will be plenty of time for adulation later anyway, when Rhys is safe at home, properly fixed up and no longer suffering.

Jack purses his lips as he wracks his brain for a solution, or at least a first step to getting Rhys the help he needs, but its hard with the sobbing cries spilling unbidden from his injured boyfriend. He starts to pet back Rhys’ hair, combing it best as he can back into place.

“Hey kiddo, hey. Shhh. I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” Jack says, and he really does mean it. Even if he really wishes Rhys had remembered to use both hands on the rifle, the guy who was two seconds away from sawing Jack’s head off is dead, and as much as a dislocated arm sucks it could’ve been a lot worse for the both of them.

Though he’s still going to have to deal with it before Rhys can feel any better.

“Jack, please can’t….can’t you fix it…?” His boyfriend moans, voice broken by pain. Jack worries his lip as he places his other hand on Rhys’ injured bicep.

“Yeah, I can…I’ll try, sugar, but it’s gonna hurt a lot before it gets better, okay?” He whispers, dredging up old first aid knowledge he recalls from his younger years, before he became rich enough to pay others to risk life and limb for him. Rhys’ eyes widen, fear momentarily overtaking the look of pain.

“W-what? How…how much more can it possibly hurt?” He whines. Jack forces a reassuring smile and pats the side of Rhys’ cheek, clearing away a tear with a finger.

“I promise you you’re gonna feel a hell of a lot better once I pop this sucker back into place, okay?” Rhys’ fear doesn’t abate much as the reality of Jack’s suggestion sinks in, but after a long moment of panting and swallowing around the tense lump in his throat, Rhys finally nods.

“Just…just do it…get it over with…”

“That’s my boy.” Jack strokes Rhys’ face one last time before bracing the hand against Rhys’ shoulder, with the other still squeezed firmly around his bicep. Jack takes a couple deep inhales, encouraging Rhys to breath with him in order to help calm him down.

“All right…” Jack starts, hands firm. “On the count of three…one…two—“

He doesn’t wait until three, bucking Rhys’ anticipation with a sharp pop as he works the arm back into his socket. Rhys screams as it happens, his spine arching up off the ground as fresh tears spring into his eyes. Jack hates himself for a brief moment thanks to the crushing noise of Rhys’ pain, but with the pass of a few seconds the screams dies down into a whimper. Rhys blinks rapidly and sniffs, the tears slowly drying up as the sharp pain fades into a memory.

“…Better?” Jack tries as he softly pats Rhys’ shoulder, and this time he doesn’t flinch. The relocated arm moves stiffly, but it moves as Rhys weakly twitches his fingers.

“Ah…little bit…” He croaks, but before he can exert himself any more Jack strips his own jacket off and starts tying the sleeves together. Rhys watches through a haze of lingering soreness and confusion until Jack loops the makeshift sling around his neck and carefully slides the injured arm inside.

“That’ll do….at least until we get back to the outpost. Get some proper painkillers into you. ‘Least I can do for my hero.”

“What?” Rhys asks blearily as Jack slides his hands underneath him, still able to hoist his boyfriend into a bridal carry, despite lingering aches and bruises from his fight with the psychos. He cradles Rhys’ weight against his chest, ensuring the arm isn’t jostled too bad as he walks.

“You forget about the little stunt that caused all this, kiddo?” Jack tilts his chin to look at Rhys as he starts moving back towards the outpost, barely visible above the tops of the trees. “Those guys would have had a real handsome head to stick on a pike if it weren’t for you blowing some lights out.”

“Oh…right…” Rhys nods, though he looks like he might conk out from exhaustion any moment. “Well…you’re welcome.”

“You’ve really gotta let me teach you how to properly shoot, though. Two hands next time, okay?”

“M’kay,” Rhys mumbles just as he slips into a light doze, head falling peacefully against Jack’s chest. The CEO snorts, already envisioning Rhys’ first proper training lesson as he ambles off towards the welcoming lights of the outpost.

rhys would rock the booty shorts/hoodie look

Kinktober Day 2: Medical Play

Jack had laughed the first time he saw the nurse costume Rhys bought.

The costume didn’t look too bad, all things considered, but the concept was chuckle-worthy. He thought Rhys would make a pretty shitty nurse. Kid barely knew how to take care of himself, much left someone else. Rhys had got kind of annoyed when Jack had told him this, and tossed the costume into the closet, never to be seen again.

At least, that was what Jack thought. Until it was Rhys’ turn to pick something new to try in the bedroom.

And—all right. Rhys might be a crap nurse in reality, but he looked good in that outfit. The open blouse squeezed his chest together, as did the hem of his skirt to his thighs. His legs looked silky in those stockings, and years of wearing heeled boots helped him navigate the black pumps that came with the costume, even on the bedroom carpet. He sauntered over from the bathroom, placing one leg elegantly in front of the other in a way that had Jack’s boner already popping through his boxers. He wiggled with interest, wrists tugging against the leather restraints Rhys had bound to him before going to the bathroom to change.

“How’s my favorite patient?” Rhys spoke, voice struggling between peppy and sultry, but those long legs and sumptuous body made up for any lacking dialogue. “Feeling better, or do I need to give you another shot?”

Jack eyed the syringe as Rhys twirled it between his fingers, the vibrant red liquid splashing around. That’d been Rhys’ idea too, though Jack wasn’t exactly opposed to using aphrodisiacs, especially when it was a part of the whole image.

“I dunno, sweetheart, feeling a little bit more…fatigued than usual. Might need a little help to ‘get better’ if you know what I mean?” Jack lifted his head up of the pillow to smirk at his pretty “nurse.” Rhys nodded with a similar smile, putting one knee up on the bed as he grasped Jack’s wrist in his white-gloved palm and turned it over.

“You do look a little pale….don’t worry, this will put the color back into your cheeks…”

“Yeah? Maybe in some other areas, too.” Jack winked, the tent in his pants not escaping Rhys’ notice, though he tried to keep a straight face.

“Maybe…some patients have certain side effects to the medication….don’t worry, we’ll deal with those as they come,” he purred, uncapping the syringe and pressing the tip to the vein visible in Jack’s elbow. The CEO licked his lips in excitement at the little prick of pain, watching the red liquid slowly drain into his arm.

“You’ve got some wonderful bedside manner, darling,” Jack murmured as heat started to spread up his arm, his mind losing a little coherence as his arousal grew.

“Of course.” Rhys smiled as he tossed the now empty syringe into the garbage besides the bed, before shifting to straddle Jack’s hips, giving the CEO a perfect view down his shirt. “Now just lay back and relax, sir, and I’ll be sure to take care of your every need.”

Kinktober Day 2: Ass Worship, Begging

“Jack, please—“ Rhys moaned, frustrated arousal kept at bay thanks to the fact that Jack wouldn’t put his cock inside him already. He knew how much his boyfriend loved his ass, obsessed over it almost, but wouldn’t it follow that he’d want to fuck it already instead of just settling on groping and staring?

“All in good time, babe. Just gimme a second.” Jack already had his cock out and gripped in his hand but hadn’t bothered moving it in the past couple minutes, content to just slowly stroke it as his other hand rubbed and squeezed Rhys’ ass like he was testing the ripeness of a peach. Every once and awhile the boy’s heart would leap when Jack pulled one cheek to the side to appreciate Rhys’ eager, twitching hole, but he still hadn’t shoved his fucking cock inside!

“Why? Why can’t you just—ugh—!” Rhys tried to push back in some thoughtless attempt to get closer to Jack’s dick but the older man held steady and even gave Rhys a hard, warning pinch to his rear.

“So impatient,” Jack purred over Rhys’ pained and frustrated whimpers, fingers rubbing over the red mark on his tender skin, “I’m not interested in screwing impatient boys, Rhysie, so if you want my cock inside of you now you’re gonna have to really sweet-talk me.”

Rhys pouted, his eyes still welled up with tears from desperation and the harshness of Jack’s pinch, but at this point he’d do anything to get Jack to stop admiring his ass and start wrecking it like he was supposed to.

“Jack…” He tried to force the hurt and impatience from his voice, lowering it to something more seductive and needy. He looked over his shoulder, keeping his eyelashes at half mast and his lips slight parted. “Please….sir…I want you so much…I’m sorry for being so pushy, I just…I need…”

Rhys knew Jack liked “sir” almost as much as he liked “daddy,” the words highlighting Jack’s power, the imbalance between them. He didn’t care to play the part and pluck Jack’s fantasies if it got him what he wanted, though. For a moment Jack raised his brow, as if judging the authenticity of Rhys’ begging, but either he decided to believe it or he’d finally needed to get his exposed cock wet because he shifted on his knees and leaned over Rhys’ body, spreading his asscheek one last time—now with purpose.

“Yes, yes yes please,” Rhys moaned, his fingers clenching happily into the bedsheets as Jack’s cock pushed up against his hole, “thank god.”

“Thank me after it’s over, okay sweetheart?” Jack teased as he slid inside, hips rubbing up against Rhys’ ass and forcing gracious moans from his lips.