Set after the Season 8 tour. For the [info]ontd_ai kink meme, prompt #56 - kris solo action while he thinks of adam, sequel to halfway to heaven, still halfway to hell, wherein Adam jerked off to Kris’s voice on the phone (spoiler alert, in this installation, Kris discovers that turnabout is fair play)

Kris acts on a crazy impulse and then realizes that perhaps it wasn't so crazy after all.

Prompt: Kris/Jim. This time instead of DMing while intoxicated Jim decides to make a call. Drunk conversation/teasing turns into ~more. Either phonesex, or one of them getting off thinking the other doesn't know, your call.

Neal forgot to turn off his audio transmitter before engaging in some personal business. Well, "forgot"...

As far as Edward was concerned it could just take for-damn-ever if it wanted because that’s how long he could go without taking to the Bastard.

You should totally write something about Darren and Chris relieving the tension of shooting this episode (3x05).

Crackling quiet on the line for a second. "Are you serious?" Jake asks at last. "You've programmed that machine of yours to...?" He trails off but the question mark is audible.

The trollmance novel turns from soap opera to smut in 30 seconds.

Stiles and Derek have phone-sex while Stiles is away at college.

Stiles has a preference for written porn. He also has a thing for Derek's voice. So when Derek finds his erotica collection, this is clearly either the best or the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Stiles makes a cyber sex buddy who supposedly looks like a dark-haired version of his favorite character on his favorite show. Which, coincidentally enough, is also what Derek looks a hell of a lot like.

Derek goes away to deal with a hostile rival pack, and Stiles calls him up to settle his nerves. “Ah, you feeling a bit stressed out big guy?” “Yes,” he says, voice raspy. “It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you right now."

"Hey, Birdboy, what're you wearing?"

Bitty uses emojis like a second language, one that Jack's slowly starting to become fluent in.

And with his fingers pressing inside of him and his cock brushing against the sheets and his face in the leather that smelled like Derek, he felt pathetic and desperate all at once. He knew that if he ever got the chance (the opportunity) to be with Derek that he’d ask him to fuck him within half a second. He wanted the older man inside of him and around him and all over him until his senses were so consumed that he was completely senseless. or The five times Stiles fingered himself and the one time Derek did it for him.

He feels helpless, and not in the good way. Not in the way he needs to feel, the way that means freedom. Being the Alpha means not getting to feel that anymore.

“It’s Friday night,” Yanli says, a warm teasing note in her voice. “Shouldn’t you be doing something more fun than studying chemistry?” “What are you doing?” Wen Qing asks, stung. “You’re just hanging out in your dorm, right?” “Mm,” Yanli says, the warmth still in her voice. Wen Qing can almost imagine her stretching like a cat as she says it, one of those long dancer’s legs lifting high. It’s a hot night; maybe she’s wearing those tiny grey stretch shorts she wears when she comes right from dance class to the dining hall, barely peeking out under a long t-shirt. Wen Qing has thought about those shorts a lot.

“Sid, need you to pay attention to me,” Alex says firmly. “You have bond crisis. You sick, Sid. Very sick. Need somebody to touch you to stop you being sick.” “I didn’t know you could get sick from being lonely,” Crosby mumbles. Zhenya makes a noise that sounds like he’s been punched. “I guess it makes sense, though.”

“You kissed me the night before we got drafted,” Connor says, unbuckling Jack’s belt and making light work of yanking Jack’s jeans down to his knees. With Jack’s thighs and his penchant for tight fitting pants, it’s an impressive move. “Blew me in the men’s restroom right after dinner.” “Fuck you I did not,” Jack grunts as he lifts up his hips to help Connor strip off his boxers.

John cracks an eye open, and Thatcher is shucking off his jeans, kicking them underneath the desk. He’s wearing – well, John catches a glimpse of lace as Thatcher pulls his sweatpants back on. Tight, navy lace stretched out over his ass.

Connor McDavid is not the next, next one. He's the only one. For Dylan and his super chaffed dick. (A story about awkward relationship conversation, feelings and the sheer amount of blackmail material Alex DeBrincat has on McJesus and Baby Stromer.)

"The last snap is Dylan’s dimly lit bed, one long skinny leg stretched toward the end of the bed and one bent at the knee. Call me when you’re home. Connor doesn’t drop everything, but he also doesn’t put his dishes in the dishwasher." In which Connor and Dylan talk on the phone.

Patrick doesn’t think before he takes the screenshot.

nice hatty, the text says. No capitalization, no emojis, nothing. Jack doesn’t even have the number saved in his phone. Originally that was out of pettiness, but what it actually means is Jack has Connor McDavid’s number memorized without even having tried. Apparently that’s what happens after a year and change of seeing it pop up on his lockscreen. It’s not even like McDavid texts him that often. Once they’d gone three months without speaking. Which is fine. They’re not really friends, exactly. They are sort of coworkers, and they have eaten each other’s cum, but they’re not, like, friends.

“I don’t have a small dick, idiot,” Alex openly laughed, a stark contrast to Henry’s quiet, reserved chuckle, “I have no dick.” Henry stared at him for a moment and Alex just looked back at him, taking a sip of his drink. “Funny,” he said with a flat voice, indicating that he did not, in any way, find it funny. “Well,” Alex moved to clarify, tilting his head to the side for just a moment, “I supposed I do. But it’s currently tucked away in my hotel room. And I’m not sure if you count t-dicks in what you’re referring to.” “I… don’t know what that means.” Alex laughed again, shaking his head this time, “Of course you don’t.” “Shall I google it?” And Alex couldn’t help but egg him on. “Oh, definitely. When this event is over, you should open up your laptop, pull up that special website you go to for your alone time and type ‘T-Dicks’ into the search bar. I promise it won’t disappoint.” OR Henry does as Alex suggests... and Alex is obsessed with how Henry looks when he falls apart. Lots of sex ensues.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has to come begging to the Red Hood,” he says against Tim’s neck. “Thought they’d be lining up down the block for you. Thought Daddy would need to get the shotgun.” “You’re the one with the shotgun,” Tim points out. ++ Tim’s benched with a broken arm and starts playing Jason’s personal Oracle. Things escalate.