#election countdown

Hand to god, it began purely as an academic partnership. Splitting note-taking responsibilities and checking each other’s work, that sort of thing. Sure, Jack was absurdly pretty, but the addictive spike in positive instructor feedback after you’d been reviewing each other’s writing for a bit had much more to do with it. When you started fucking after your study sessions, then before, then doing as much as you could before the ten minute break timer went off between subject blocs, it was pretty easy to justify. Literally getting fucked to sleep six nights a week made it nigh impossible to stay up worrying about what concepts would screw you over on an exam. The more time you spent letting Jack’s tongue lave over you and the longer you let him say he needed to coax you on his fingers before stretching you out over his dick like taffy, the more you struggled to worry about much of anything.

If you had to put a date on it, Halloween was around when you realized a change was going to be necessary.

The whole night had actually been going swimmingly: an Anything But Human dress code for your friends’ potluck was by far the least contrived of the season, and you’d started designing your honeybee costume the second you got wind of it. At your request that he please select a corporeal, non political costume for one party, Jack grabbed some wire, pliers, and black yarn from your craft basket and whipped up a cat ear headband to match the first all black outfit his eyes landed on before he’d headed over.

You, on the other hand, spent the last hour leading up to the party thoroughly saturating two powder puffs in gold spray glitter for your behind the knee curbiculae, leaving him to meticulously glue gold rhinestone smatterings to the black velvet of your dress and taking care to push his head back whenever it dipped too close to the fresh E6000.

Things only started to go south when you had to bend down to draw on Jack’s whiskers with your eyeliner. His patience lasted almost long enough for you to reapply your lipstick and kiss the tip of his nose pink before one finger was curling under your swooping low, gold marabou-trimmed neckline.

“I’m glad I didn’t let you talk me into going commando with a catsuit-“ he murmured, nuzzling his nose over your chest “it would be a real problem when you look this good.”

Soon enough, your legs were hooked securely over his shoulders and any lingering stressors were steadily eroded away with each full-weighted, eyelid-fluttering thrust of Jack’s hips.

When you eventually get out the door, it’s already sunset, and the fading daylight reveals comically dense patches of your pollen glitter reaching from Jack’s shoulders clear down to his navel. That good for nothing spray adhesive hadn’t held shit in place; you’d be amazed to discover any sparkle left behind your knees the way he’s bathed in it.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! We look like a couple of perverts, and we’re late!” you frantically swat at his chest trying to clear some of the glitter, only working it deeper into the weave of his sweater.

“We’ll fit right in!”

“No, I’m serious! We really need to set some ground rules or something because this is getting ridiculous.”

✨✨✨✨✨

I’m sure you’ve all seen these by now 🤭. I know we talk a lot of the Harris Walz campaign specifically but Jack makes a good point- there are so many other candidates and propositions on your ballot that are just as important. For example, it is vital for us to secure as many GOP seats as possible. Vote.org has a great feature where you can enter your information and get a preview of your ballot to prep for when you vote for real.

Stay informed and stay mobilized, my beautiful heauxs! 👏🏽🩵💋

Jack is doing his best to stay professional, but this heat is near uncomfortable even laying out sunbathing with intermittent spritzes from your mister fan. You did insist he stand behind your chair in order to look down your top unobstructed (in less direct words), so you’re not exactly aiding his efforts to compose himself. He sounds like he’s about to pass out back there, the poor darling.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you ask apathetically, barely tilting your head towards him.

“It’s no trouble, ma’am.” But he’s basically panting, and you can see him beginning to sway in the distorted reflection of the greenhouse windows. With two fingers, you beckon him over to your right side. Jack is sweating bullets as he watches you sip your lemonade; the delicate clinking of mint ice cubes against the glass must sound tortuous right about now.

“Would you like some?” His adams apple bobs wantonly as he quashes such human desires.

“I don’t know if that would be appropriate.” As if you’ll dignify that with a proper response. With a click of your tongue and two quick pats to your armrest, he’s kneeling beside you before he even can realize that you’ve commanded him to sit like a pet. Condensation threatens to slip the drink from your hands as you present it to him. As soon as Jack moves toward your straw, you raise the glass and pour it, slowly, so it doesn’t splash onto you, over his head. His relief is far, far too palpable to care about preserving his dignity.

Jack’s eyes slide closed, and he sighs wistfully as the lemonade flows over him and soaks into his suit jacket, slicking his curls flat to his forehead. He goes rigid before tentatively relaxing when you thread your fingers into the icy strands and begin scratching his scalp.

The silky, dense handfuls of hair flowing through them conjure up images of long-limbed hunting dogs in your head.

“Most guys your age are already balding, did you know that?” There’s a sliver of hesitation in his response, as if he might break the spell.

“I’ve never given it much thought, ma’am.”

“Of course you haven’t. You’re so cute.” you murmur absentmindedly.

🍋🍋🍋🍋

In case you didn’t know, it is the queen of the written word herself, Miss @remotewatch ‘s birthday today! So not only is the link du jour to her favorite charity, I am also humbly requesting some voting plans/stories in her inbox- how it went or how you think it'll go! It’s crunch time, divas ✨ Let’s get out there!

There’s a sharp knock at your door made more suspicious when Jack asks you to wait a second to open it.

“Did you order something?”

“Yeah, let them drop it off.”

He must be feeling horrific already if the first thing on his mind in quarantine is takeout.

When you’re finally able to retrieve the mystery delivery, you’re surprised to see a large, stapled shut, black paper bag embossed with a barely perceptible name: The Velvet Leopard. You’re slightly less surprised to find that he’s reordered the exact strap and harness you already own.

“Two weeks feeling a little long already?” You tease. Jack doesn’t exactly deny it.

“Better to have it and not need it if we do get sick.”

“Wellllll, you’re acting like you do need it.” You hum thoughtfully, tapping his nose with the transparent blue silicone.

✨Psssttt- as you may have guessed, these Barbies are covering every sex position imaginable. So let’s cover some positions our VP stands on. I love using the BBC for non-partisan reporting. It’s also great to share with any undecided voters in your life. Stay aware and stay nasty! 🩵