#i do not know what was the point. i'm just a little frustrated with myself.

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

˗ˏˋ that first night (her POV) ˎˊ˗

"There's a theory that says you meet everyone in your life twice—once as strangers, and once when it matters. That first night at 'Pulse', with vodka cranberry on your tongue and his eyes burning into yours, was supposed to be the stranger part. No one warns you that six months later, he'll be standing in your new apartment's doorway, looking at you like he's seen a ghost. But that’s a problem for Future you."

⋆｡°✩ story details ✩°｡⋆

collection: Before It All (FMU)

wordcount: 15k

pairing: fmu!jungkook x fmu!yn (cocky!jkxbratty!reader)

rating: explicit, 18+

playlist: spotify

content: new york city setting, university setting, strangers to roommates (eventually), nightclub setting, hookup, one night stand, drunk hookup (buzzed/tipsy but consensual), explicit sexual content, oral sex (cunnilingus), protected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, wall sex, rough sex, choking/breath play (light), hair pulling, marking/hickeys, size kink, manhandling, dirty talk, praise kink, bickering during sex, snarky banter, grinding, multiple positions, slight pain kink, slight degradation kink, praise kink if you squint, sexual tension, sexual chemistry, mild exhibitionism (making out in uber/club), slight voyeurism (being watched in club), mild dubious condom practices (that one scene), alcohol consumption, bite kink, aftercare (mild), spooning, scent kink, vanilla scented products, enemies to lovers (eventual), size difference (height), strength kink.

✧ author's note ✧

Hi my little demons! (｀∀´)Ψ Welcome to the prequel that started this absolute dumpster fire - AKA the night our emotionally constipated idiots first met.

Let's talk about how THIS happened, because honestly? I've rewritten this scene approximately 47 times (not exaggerating, my Google docs are a MESS). I initially wasn't even going to write it, but then my 3AM brain, fueled by what was probably my 8th espresso, decided we NEEDED to see these two disasters collide for the first time. And boy, did they collide. (￣ω￣;)

First things first: This is pure, unadulterated filth. I literally had to take several walks around my apartment complex while writing this because these two WOULD NOT BEHAVE. Like, I was trying to be somewhat respectable here, but they said "No♥️" and chose violence. So you know what? I just let them do their thing and documented it like the professional disaster that I am.

Now, let's talk about our girl for a second. Writing her at this specific point in her life was FASCINATING because you can really see all the pieces that made her who she is—the family pressure, the small-town suffocation, the desperate need for control while simultaneously wanting to lose it completely... She's such a beautifully complex mess and I love her for it. (Don't worry, she'll grow. Eventually. Maybe. We'll see.)

And Jungkook... Oh boy. There's SO MUCH about him that I've deliberately sprinkled throughout this chapter. Little details, subtle hints, tiny breadcrumbs that'll make sense later. I'm actually really proud of how many easter eggs I managed to hide in here - come back after future chapters and tell me if you caught them! (Though let's be real, you're probably not here for the literary analysis, you thirsty gremlins.)

The biggest challenge was honestly Emma. Like, how do you get the world's most protective best friend to leave her bestie alone in a club? I spent WEEKS trying to make this work in a way that felt authentic to her character. The sister crisis was my 3AM solution and I'm actually pretty proud of how it turned out. Realistic character motivation is my kink, okay? (＾▽＾)

Speaking of realism—that's literally why this fic exists. I got so frustrated with how many unrealistic elements I kept seeing in stories that I went "Fine, I'll do it myself" and here we are, 35 pages of smut later???? Huh. You're welcome????

Side note: I have this whole thing narrated in audio (female voice only, because no male voice matches Jungkook’s, my beloved ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) but Tumblr said "file too big bestie" so... might drop it on ko-fi if enough people are interested. Let me know in the comments! Speaking of comments—PLEASE tell me your theories about all the little hints I've dropped about Jungkook's past. I'm dying to see what you guys pick up on! (⌒ω⌒)ﾉ

Until next time, you disaster pandas! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Kiki. 🍓

P.S. Any typos are between you and god because I've stared at this document for so long the words have lost all meaning.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

⋆｡°✩ read more ✩°｡⋆

main story: fuck me up

read on ao3

read on wattpad

So here's the thing about nightclubs: you either love them or you hate them.

You? You're more of a 'hate them' kinda girl. The sweat, the noise, the people... not your scene. Not usually, anyway.

But usual went out the window the second Emma suggested this little adventure. Sweet, reliable Emma who you lost touch with after high school but who immediately became your secret accomplice when you reached out about transferring to NYU. Who's been your underground informant for months now—sneaking you tips about the English department, virtually walking you through the campus layout via late-night FaceTime sessions, and helping you plot out the perfect transfer application your parents know nothing about.

Emma, who didn't even blink when you showed up at her door with a weekend bag and a story for your parents about "visiting your responsible friend in the city." (They bought it immediately because, well, it's Emma. Their golden standard of What A Good Influence Should Be.) You'd spent the whole day doing exactly what you came for—touring NYU's campus, sitting in on a couple of English classes Emma snuck you into, and gathering all the transfer information you could get your hands on.

"You can't just transfer here and not know what the nightlife is like," she'd insisted, already rummaging through her closet for something that wasn't your campus tour outfit. "That's like... buying a car without test driving it."

Which, okay, terrible analogy, but you get her point. You've spent months planning this transfer—going over NYU's transfer requirements, crafting the perfect escape from your suffocating small-town university, calculating exactly how to tell your parents once it's too late for them to stop you. The campus visit was supposed to be just that—visiting your responsible friend Emma for a weekend while secretly checking out NYU.

Emma, bless her overprotective heart, had taken one look at your face after that final tour—that specific blend of desperate hope and terrified excitement—and decided you needed to see the whole picture. "The real college experience," as she put it, already pulling out her phone to text her club promoter friend.

"Location sharing on?" she'd asked for the fifth time before you left her apartment, double-checking your phone settings like some kind of Gen-Z mother hen. As if you hadn’t spent the last three months planning this transfer with military-grade precision.

"Yes, mom," you'd rolled your eyes, but something warm had settled in your chest at her fussing. It's... nice, having someone in on the secret. Someone who gets it.

"Emergency contact updated to my number?"

"Check."

"Spare key to my apartment?"

"Emma, I swear to god—"

"Just checking!" She'd grinned, already knowing she was being ridiculous but doing it anyway. "One more thing..."

And that's how you ended up with a literal tracking app on your phone, an emergency SOS button setup, and Emma's solemn promise to "never leave your side, scout's honor." (She was never actually a scout, but whatever.)

Parents really think you're just visiting your studious, sensible friend Emma for a nice, quiet weekend in the city. Having some wholesome catching-up time. Maybe seeing some museums.

Ha. If only they knew you're actually scouting out your future escape route.

If only you knew.

Because let's be real, this isn't exactly in your wheelhouse. But Emma's right there, keeping her scout's honor promise, bouncing between the bar and dance floor like some kind of safety-conscious terror. And maybe it's the way she keeps checking in with subtle thumbs-up signals, or maybe it's just knowing someone's actually got your back in this whole secret college plan thing, but you're... kind of having fun?

Which is how you find yourself here, in this pulsing, thrumming mass of bodies and sound. 'Pulse', the club's called. Fitting, considering how you can feel the bass thumping in your veins, the strobe flashing like lightning in your skull. It's... a lot. But not in a bad way?

Yeah, definitely not bad, you decide as you scan the room. Leather booths, gleaming bar top, and a dance floor packed with the kind of gorgeous twenty-somethings that make you feel simultaneously inadequate and oddly triumphant. Like 'yeah, I might not be that, but at least I'm here.'

And honestly, it's pretty nice here. Clean, classy even. Good lighting over the bar, vigilant security, and Emma vouches for the place. She's your safety net tonight, because God knows you'd never try this solo. But Emma... Emma knows everyone. Gets you both in with a wink and a wave, like some kind of VIP.

The girl's got pull and she's not afraid to use it. You envy that a bit, that confidence. Wish you could borrow just a dash of it, to fortify your nerves as you perch on this barstool, spine too straight and fingers too tight around your glass. But it's fine, it's good, you're good. That’s what you tell yourself, anyways—even if it’s not entirely the truth.

It's just one night. One chance. One small rebellion before you go back home and drown yourself in expectations and demands. Hardly even counts as rebellion, really, in the grand scheme. Not like you're planning on getting blackout drunk and ending up in jail or anything. Just… dipping your toe. Sampling the other side. Just for a night.

What's the worst that could happen?

Famous last words. Or in this case, famous last thought, as you take a too-big sip of your drink and nearly choke on watery vodka cranberry. Good thing no one's paying attention.

Well, except for one guy, apparently. And he's...

Oh. Oh damn.

He's the kind of gorgeous that makes you almost forget how to swallow, even as you scoff internally. Guys who look like that? They're usually bad news. Cringe edgy boys. Like the ones you see on TikTok. The jaw, the eyes, the whole brooding bad-boy package. Not your type. Not even a little.

But he’s hot. Truth be told.

And he's watching you. Not in a creepy way, but… intense. Interested. And wow, okay, maybe there's something to be said for the whole 'still waters' vibe he's giving off, because that gaze is doing things to you. Things you're not entirely sure you're ready for.

But then again... isn't that the whole point? To try something new? To be someone new, just for a night? The girl who holds the stare of a beautiful stranger. The girl who lets the charge build, heart kicking up and skin tingling. The girl who—

"Shit, shit, shit." Emma's suddenly at your elbow, phone clutched to her chest, face twisted with genuine distress. "My sister just called. She's having some kind of breakdown about—god, I don't even know, her boyfriend? Something about him showing up at her dorm? She's hysterical, I can barely understand her—"

You watch Emma's face cycle through about twelve different emotions in three seconds. She keeps glancing between you and her phone, clearly torn. "I should go check on her. But I can't just leave you here alone. Fuck. Maybe we should both—"

"Em, I'm fine," you try to reassure her, even as your stomach sinks a little. Great. Just when things were getting interesting with dark eyes over there. "I can just get an Uber—"

"No, no, wait." Emma's scanning the club like she's looking for something specific. Her face lights up suddenly as she spots someone by the weights machine in the club's weird gym corner. Because apparently some clubs have those now. "Oh thank god—hey!!"

She waves frantically at some guy who's been doing bicep curls between taking selfies for his Instagram story. You vaguely recognize him from Emma's study group—one of those guys who probably knows the protein content of everything in his lunch and considers gym updates a legitimate form of social interaction.

"Perfect timing," Emma says as he approaches, already dabbing his face with a workout towel. She's rapid-fire texting, probably her sister. "You're still doing that safe walk program thing for the student union, right? The volunteer thing they made you do after that frat party incident?"

"Yeah bro, community service hours almost done," he confirms, then looks confused as Emma practically shoves her phone in his face, showing him what you assume is your location-sharing setup.

"Great. This is my best friend from high school. She's got location sharing on with me, SOS button setup, fully charged phone." Emma's talking so fast she's almost tripping over her words. "I have to go deal with my sister but I'll be back in an hour tops. Could you just... keep an eye out? Make sure no creeps bother her?"

Your face heats. "Emma, seriously—"

"I know, I know, you can handle yourself," Emma cuts you off, already shouldering her bag. "But humor me? He’s actually great at this. Always walks girls home after study group. Total golden retriever energy."

You catch the way her eyes flick meaningfully toward where dark eyes is still watching from across the room. Like she's trying to say 'here's your safe but slightly dim option if you want it, but...'

Your phone buzzes with an incoming wall of texts:

Emma: 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢!!! 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚜 Emma: 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚐𝚢𝚖 𝚋𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢 Emma: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜... 👀 Emma: (𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 & 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎!!!)

"Hey there. Emma had to run, but she didn't want to leave you alone. Asked me to keep you company. That okay?"

The voice cuts through your spiral, and you blink up at the interloper. Brent? Brad? Some monosyllabic gym bro who's friends with Emma and apparently your new babysitter.

Great.

You paste on a smile, even as your attention flickers back to him. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a mouth that could probably do very interesting things, you bet your money on it. But no. Don’t get distracted. Eyes on Brett. He's safe, he's known. Boring as a beige wall, but that's better. Smarter.

"Yeah, of course," you say brightly. Too brightly. Even you can hear the false note, and you cringe. "Thanks for keeping me company."

Because that's why you're here. For safety, for company, for sampling the world, but through a protective barrier. Not for tall, dark, and dangerously appealing over there. Definitely not for him.

Even if you kinda wish it was.

"You're pretty."

And like... okay? Thanks? But also, ugh. It's not that you're not flattered—you are, in that vaguely uncomfortable way that makes you want to simultaneously preen and roll your eyes into next week. Because yeah, duh, you know. You own mirrors. You're aware of your assets, thank you very much. But there's something so wonderfully, terribly basic about guys who lead with that.

Still. You give him another once-over, because fair's fair and also because like... why not? He's not bad. Actually pretty decent, if you're being honest (and you are, because what's the point of lying to yourself?). Broad shoulders, nice arms, that whole gym rat aesthetic that apparently some girls go crazy for.

Not that you're necessarily one of those girls. You've always preferred a more... balanced build. Something between "I can bench press you" and "I've never seen the inside of a gym." Like, yeah, muscles are nice and all, but you want to be able to actually cuddle without feeling like you're laying on a marble statue. Give you some softer edges any day. Something to sink into, you know?

But beggars can't be choosers and honestly? You're kind of tired of being a beggar. Or, well, not a beggar exactly, but definitely... selective. Too selective, maybe. Conservative. Careful. All those words that really mean "scared to actually live a little."

Not tonight though. Tonight you're in New York fucking City, three hundred miles from your parents' suffocating expectations and that small-town mindset that makes you want to scream into your pillow sometimes. Tonight you could be anyone.

So when you say, "Thank you, you're not bad yourself," it comes out smoother than expected. Almost flirty. And his laugh? Not terrible. Kind of nice actually, even if it doesn't quite reach his eyes. They're nice eyes too—warm brown, honest. Safe.

"Would you like to dance?"

The question hangs there, and you consider it. Really consider it. Because this—this whole thing—it's what you came for, isn't it? To try something new. To be someone new. Someone who says yes to dancing with attractive strangers in clubs that pulse with bass-heavy Usher remixes.

"You feeling confident?" you throw back, and okay, maybe that was a little sharp, a little too much of your usual self bleeding through. But he just smiles (no dimples, and why does that matter? Since when do you care about dimples?), and holds out his hand.

His fingers are cold when they wrap around yours. It's... not great. You've always hated cold hands, which is ironic considering yours are perpetually freezing. But you let him lead you onto the dance floor anyway, because what the hell. What the actual hell. You're here, you're young, you're... actually kind of buzzed now that you think about it. That vodka cran hitting different after all.

His hands hover at your hips, eyes asking permission, and you give him a look that you hope translates to "yes, but don't get crazy about it." Must work, because his palms settle, grip light but present. You rest your hands on his shoulders (nice shoulders, you'll give him that), and try to find the rhythm.

It's not terrible. Not amazing either, but definitely not terrible. He can move, keeps a decent beat, doesn't try to grind up on you like some horny teenager. His hands stay respectfully placed, thumbs making small circles that should probably feel more exciting than they do.

Everything about this should feel more exciting than it does.

Maybe you need another drink. Maybe you need to stop overthinking every little thing and just... be. Maybe...

Maybe that's when it happens. Your eyes drift up, over his shoulder, like they're being pulled by some invisible thread. Like something in you just knows where to look. And there he is.

Dark eyes locked on yours, expression unreadable in the strobing lights.

One second. Two. Three.

An eternity compressed into the space between heartbeats. Your skin prickles, heat crawling up your spine that has nothing to do with the crowded dance floor or the alcohol in your system. The weight of his stare is palpable, laden with something unnamed but acutely felt. Something that turns your mouth to the Sahara and your pulse into a kickdrum.

Usher croons about falling in love while Pitbull drops his signature "dale" in the background, and isn't that just fucking hilarious? Because this—this moment, this look, this stranger—this isn't about love. This is about want. Raw and simple and completely uncomplicated by things like names or histories or futures.

This is about the way his jaw clenches slightly as he watches you dance with someone else. About how his fingers drum against his glass in perfect time with the beat. About the little scar on his cheek that catches the light when he tilts his head, studying you like you're a puzzle he wants to take apart piece by piece.

Your dance partner's hands feel colder by the second.

It's not that his hands are bad, exactly. They're... nice hands. Big hands. The kind that wrap around your hips like they were made to be there, fingers long enough to span the distance between hipbone and hipbone. And yeah, okay, you have a thing for hands. Who doesn't? It's practically universal at this point—like liking bread or hating people who talk during movies. Just basic human nature.

But something's... off.

Your brain is doing that thing. That stupid, annoying, overthinking thing where it won't shut up long enough to let you enjoy anything. And god, you hate this. Hate how your mind rebels against perfectly good situations, like it's allergic to straightforward pleasure or something. Because objectively? This should be working. Hot guy, good music, decent amount of alcohol in your system. Your body's definitely on board—you can feel the low simmer of attraction, the way your skin warms under his touch. The basic chemistry is there.

But your mind? Your mind's like that one friend who shows up to parties just to list off everything that could possibly go wrong. His hands are cold. His laugh doesn't reach his eyes. No dimples. The way he said "pretty" like he was checking off a box on some "How to Pick Up Girls" checklist.

You sigh, already stepping back. Watch the confusion flicker across his face, quickly masked by what you're sure he thinks is an understanding smile.

"Everything alright?"

And like... no? Yes? Maybe? How do you even answer that when you're not sure what's wrong in the first place? When you're standing here on a dance floor that's vibrating with Usher's voice while your brain short-circuits over the temperature of some guy's hands?

"Yeah, I'm just..." You pause, teeth catching your bottom lip as you reconsider. Fuck it. Might as well go with the classics. "The vodka. Has me feeling buzzy, I think I'm not feeling too good."

It's a cop-out and you know it. But it's also an easy out, the kind that doesn't hurt anyone's feelings or make things weird. Because that's what you do, isn't it? Keep things smooth. Keep things nice. Even when you're lying through your teeth to some guy whose name you can't quite remember.

"Hey, that's okay." His smile stays steady, concerned even. "No hard feelings. You need a ride home?"

And that—that right there—that's actually kind of sweet. In another universe, maybe that offer would seal the deal. Nice guy, worried about your safety, probably has a stable job and calls his mother on Sundays. But in this universe? In this universe, your eyes are already drifting over his shoulder, drawn like a compass needle to true north.

You press your lips together, scanning the crowd like you're actually looking for someone. Like you haven’t known exactly where he is this whole time, haven’t felt his eyes raking you up and down non-stop.

"Actually I know someone just across the way, so honestly, zero worries."

The shock on his face would be comical if it weren’t so irksome. "You positive? Weren’t you visiting from out of town? Emma mentioned you were just in for the weekend."

And okay, what the actual fuck? Why does he need your whole life story? Yeah, sure, he's probably just being nice. Probably just wants to make sure you're not about to wander off and get murdered or something. But still. The irritation rises in your throat like bile, sharp and inexplicable.

"Doesn't mean I don't know anybody in New York," you say, and wow, okay, that came out with more edge than intended. Quick, fix it, smooth it over. You paste on a tight smile, the kind that probably looks more like a grimace but hey, at least you're trying. "See you around, Brent."

You're already moving as you say it, heels clicking against the floor with purpose. You think you hear him call after you—something about his name being Peter?—but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about cold hands and careful smiles and all the safe choices you should be making.

Because your feet know where they're going, even if your brain is screaming about bad decisions. Even if every rational part of you is throwing up warning signs and red flags. Even if—or maybe because—you can feel his eyes following your every move, heat spiraling up your spine with each step closer.

The bass drops, and your heart kicks up to match it.

Dale, indeed.

You don't need to look at him to know he's watching. You can tell. Can perceive it. It’s like standing too close to a bonfire. The kind of heat that makes you want to step closer even as your survival instincts scream danger, danger, danger.

And this? This is definitely dangerous.

You don't do this. Like, ever. There's a whole routine to these things, right? Guy sees girl, guy approaches girl, girl decides if she wants to deal with whatever fumbling attempt at flirtation follows. That's just... how it works. How it's always worked. Because guys? They're usually terrible at being approached. Their fragile little egos can't handle a girl making the first move. Plus, most of them aren't worth the effort anyway.

But.

But your feet are already moving. But your heart is already racing. But something about the way he's been watching you, like he could devour you whole and still be hungry—it makes you reckless. Makes you stupid. Makes you brave.

"Dance with me."

It comes out more command than question, your voice steadier than it has any right to be. He looks up at you from his seat, and fuck. Just... fuck. Because the way he tilts his head? The slow, deliberate motion of it? That should not be as hot as it is. That should be illegal in at least three states.

Then he smiles. Just one side of his mouth lifting, lazy and confident and—oh god. A dimple. One perfect little dimple that makes something in your chest squeeze tight.

"That's bold."

His voice is lower than you expected. Rougher. Like whiskey over gravel, and you want to drink it down until you're drunk on it. Want to find out what other sounds you can pull from that throat.

"You've been looking at me for 10 minutes." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, sharp and challenging. "You gonna come dance or not?"

He chuckles—actually chuckles, who even does that?—and holy shit, there's another one. Two dimples. Two perfect little dents in his cheeks that make heat pool low in your belly, thick and sweet like honey. Your fingers twitch, aching to touch them, to press thumbs to those tiny curves and feel him beam against your flesh.

When he stands, it's one fluid motion that makes it feel like someone replaced your esophagus with a cracked porcelain vase. Because he's tall. Not incredibly, super tall. But yes the kind of tall that means you'd have to stretch up on your toes to reach his mouth, that means his hands could probably span your whole waist, that means—

No. Nope. Not going there. Not yet anyway.

He follows you onto the dance floor, and you can feel the energy shift. Like the air itself is charging up, preparing itself for both of you. His friend—some guy with killer dance moves who's been holding down a corner of the floor all night—catches his eye and shoots him a look. Something passes between them, quick and meaningful, before Mystery Man's attention is back on you. All on you.

And yeah.

Yeah, this is happening.

This is definitely happening.

The bass pounds through your marrow as Usher's voice continues suffusing the air, talking about DJs and falling in love, and honestly. At this point you’re barely listening to the music itself, too focused on finding a more secluded spot.

Your pulse picks up speed. Can’t help it, really. Because this? This is definitely going to be worth breaking all your rules for.

You lead him to some darker corner of the club—might be by a column, might be an alcove, who fucking knows because your brain's too busy short-circuiting to care about architectural details right now. All you know is it's slightly away from the main crush of bodies, slightly more private, slightly more...

Oh.

His hands find your hips the second you turn to face him. No hesitation. No silent question. No careful hovering or polite uncertainty like what's-his-name earlier. Just warm, sure palms sliding over the curve of your hips like they belong there, like he's claiming territory, and—

And you should be annoyed. You should be fucking livid. Because excuse you? The audacity of this man to just assume he can touch you without so much as a "may I?" Some feminist you are, getting weak in the knees over this caveman behavior while poor Brett (Blake? Whatever) at least had the decency to ask permission with those puppy dog eyes of his.

But your brain? Your traitorous, horny, absolutely useless brain? It's sending signals straight between your legs because apparently that's what does it for you now. The confidence. The heat of his hands—and god, they're so warm, burning through the thin fabric of your dress like brands. They're not as broad as the other guy's, but his fingers are longer, elegant almost. Artist's hands, scattered with tiny tattoos that disappear under his sleeve, and that silver ring on his middle finger catching the light as his grip tightens just slightly...

(Middle finger. Not left-hand fourth. So not married then. Good. Last thing you need tonight is adding "homewrecker" to your expanding list of dubious habits.)

Your arms loop around his neck almost on autopilot, and then you're moving. With him. Against him. The bass is a living thing between you, and he matches your rhythm instantly, like your bodies already know the steps to this dance. Like you've done this a hundred times before, in a hundred different lives.

His eyes lock onto yours, heavy-lidded and dark as sin, and every hair on your neck stands at attention. Electricity crackles down your spine, sharp and sweet, as his thumbs press into your hipbones. Just enough pressure to guide you closer, until there's barely room for breath between you.

"Didn't catch your name earlier," he says, voice pitched low enough that you have to lean in to hear him over the music. His breath fans hot against your ear, and you suppress a shiver.

"Didn't throw it," you shoot back, because apparently your mouth is running on autopilot now too. Great. Just great.

But he laughs—a quick, rough sound that you feel more than hear—and his hands flex against your hips. "Feisty. I like that."

"Bet you say that to all the girls who proposition you at clubs."

"Nah." His head dips closer, nose brushing your temple. "Just the ones who stare at me for ten minutes first."

"Excuse you, you were staring at me."

"Maybe we were staring at each other."

And okay, that's... fair actually. But you're not about to admit it. Instead, you roll your eyes, even as your fingers find the soft hair at his nape. "Does this usually work for you? This whole... whatever this is?"

"You tell me." His smile is audible in his voice, and you just know those dimples are making an appearance again. "You're the one who told me to dance."

"Maybe I just felt sorry for you, sitting there all alone."

"Wasn't alone. Had my friend."

"The dancer? Please, he was too busy killing it on the floor to keep you company."

His laugh vibrates through his chest into yours, and when did you get this close? When did your bodies start pressing together with every sway of the music? When did his thigh slip between yours, creating a friction that makes your breath catch?

"You been watching my friend too? Should I be jealous?"

The word sends an unexpected thrill through you, even though his tone is clearly teasing. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yeah," he says, and suddenly his voice isn't teasing at all. His grip tightens fractionally, pulling your hips more firmly against his. "Yeah, I would."

Goosebumps ripple across your arms, slow and inevitable, like lava carving its path through stone. His eyes burn into yours again, scorching hot, wild, and consuming—a downpour drowning a raging fire, leaving nothing but aftermath. What’s left in their wake is the kind of black that clings. Opaque. Dense. Like ash, settling over a forest stripped to its bare bones.

The sensible part of your brain—the part that usually keeps you from doing stupid, reckless things with beautiful strangers—is suspiciously quiet. Probably because all your blood is currently occupied elsewhere, namely with the way his hands are starting to trace slow patterns on your hips, the way his breath keeps ghosting over your neck, the way his body moves against yours like he's writing sin in cursive.

And maybe it's the vodka, or maybe it's how he's gazing at you like you're tranquility amidst his chaos, but you hear yourself say, "Buy me a drink first."

His smile is slow, dangerous. "That an order too?"

"Consider it a... suggestion."

"Mm." One hand slides to your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer for just a moment. "I'm starting to like your suggestions."

Your skin feels too tight, too hot, too everything. "Starting to?"

"Give me time." His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and this time you can't suppress the shiver. "Night's still young."

He actually does buy you that drink, which is... something. You're not sure what exactly, but definitely something. The way he guides you to the bar with his hand still on your lower back, fingers splayed wide enough to make you notice the imprint of his warmth? Also something.

"Another vodka cran," you tell the bartender, because hey, if it ain't broke. Then you catch his raised eyebrow and can't help adding, "What? Were you expecting something more sophisticated?"

"Nah." That damn dimple makes another appearance. "Just trying to figure you out."

"Good luck with that."

When he pulls out his wallet to pay, you catch a glimpse of multiple cards fanned out in the leather fold. Credit cards, maybe? Must have money then—or at least good credit. Not that it matters, because this is a one-time thing. A never-gonna-see-you-again thing. A what-happens-in-New-York stays-in-New-York thing.

Your fingers find the cocktail napkin beneath your glass, absently creating sharp creases with your thumbnail. It's one of those fancy ones with the bar's logo embossed in gold—pretentious, like everything else about this place.

Still. You notice how he pauses, studying one card for a beat too long before selecting it. Like he's making sure of something. Weird, but whatever.

The napkin disappears into your clutch without conscious thought. A habit you'll question later but can't explain now. You're too buzzed to care about his personal finances or your own questionable souvenir-keeping tendencies.

"Whiskey neat," he orders, and you barely contain your snort. Of fucking course he drinks whiskey. Probably thinks he's Don Draper or something.

"Pretentious much?"

"Says the girl drinking what's basically juice with a splash of alcohol."

"At least I'm not trying to prove anything."

His laugh is rough, genuine. "Who says I'm trying to prove anything?"

"Please. Whiskey at a club? That's like wearing a suit to McDonald's."

"Maybe I just like whiskey." He takes a deliberate sip, throat working in a way that absolutely doesn't make your mouth water. "Maybe I like the burn."

There's something in his voice when he says that, something that feeds the banked flame in your belly. His eyes are on you again, alternating between your eyes and your mouth like he can't quite decide where to focus.

"That line score you points often?" you manage to ask, even as your voice betrays you, emerging breathier than intended.

"I wouldn't know." He's definitely closer now. When did that happen? Did he move, or did you? "Is it scoring points now?"

And god help you, but it is. It really fucking is. Maybe it's the alcohol finally hitting your system properly, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, but you find yourself swaying toward him. Drawn in like a moth to flame, even though you know you're probably going to get burned.

"You're kind of an asshole," you inform him, even as your free hand finds its way to his chest. His very firm chest, holy shit.

"Yeah?" His fingers trace up your spine, feather-light but deliberate. "Seem to like it though."

"Cocky too."

"Haven't heard any complaints."

He's so near now you can smell him—something clean and vicious, like a tempest raging on the coast. His breath fans across your lips, whiskey-warm and promising. One of his hands cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw in a way that makes your skin buzz.

"Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?" you murmur, and that's it—that's all it takes.

His mouth crashes into yours like a wave breaking against rocks, hot and insistent and absolutely fucking flawless. His lips are softer than you expected but he kisses hard, like he's trying to devour you whole. Like he's been thinking about this as much as you have. The hand on your neck tightens, tilting your head to deepen the angle, and holy fuck.

You've been kissed before. You've been kissed a lot, actually. But this? This is something else entirely. This is lightning in a bottle, this is matches in gasoline, this is every hackneyed poetry metaphor about fire and flame and immolation except it actually makes sense now because your entire body is electric with it.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open for him without hesitation, vodka cranberry forgotten in your hand. He tastes like alcohol and dewdrops and something else you can't name but instantly crave more of. The noise he makes when you tug his hair—low and ravenous and almost startled—shoots straight between your legs.

Someone whistles nearby—probably his dancer friend—but you couldn't care less. Not when his other hand is sliding down to your hip, pulling you closer. Not when he's kissing you like he's trying to memorize the shape of your mouth with his tongue. Not when everything in you is screaming more, closer, now.

You're definitely going to hell for this. But with the way he's kissing you?

Might be worth it.

His forehead rests against yours, and you're both breathing like you've run a marathon. Which is... embarrassing, actually. When was the last time a kiss left you this affected? What are you, some freshman at their first house party? Because this is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. Your heart is hammering against your ribs like it's trying to escape, and your lips are tingling, and—

And fuck it. Fuck everything. You want more.

"Let's take this outside," you say, surprising yourself with how steady your voice sounds considering your internal chaos. Because yes. Outside. Away from the crowd and the music and all these people who aren't him.

"Your house?" The words are barely out of his mouth before you can finish your suggestion, and okay, that's kind of hot. The eagerness. The way his fingers flex against your hip like he's already imagining it.

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. At least you're not alone in this desperate teenage hormone bullshit. At least he's just as affected as you are.

But then reality crashes in like a bucket of ice water. Your house? What house? You're crashing at Emma's place and—oh god, Emma would actually murder you. Like, literal homicide. She's already doing you a solid by covering for you with your parents, and bringing back some random (incredibly hot) guy from a club? Yeah, that would definitely void the best-friend contract.

"Yours?" you counter, trying not to sound too hopeful.

He makes this sound—half hiss, half groan—that shouldn't be as sexy as it is. "Can't."

"What, mommy and daddy don't let you?" The snark is automatic, defense mechanism kicking in to mask your disappointment.

"Nah, but my friend might not like it."

"Mine either."

You stare at each other for a moment, eyes darting back and forth like you're both trying to solve the same puzzle. The absurdity of the situation hits you at the same time—two grown adults, hot and bothered in a club, cockblocked by their respective roommate situations—and suddenly you're both laughing.

His chuckle is deep, rumbling through his chest where you're still pressed against him, and it's... nice. Really nice. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his dimples flash (and seriously, those things should come with a warning label), the way his thumb absently strokes your hip like he's forgotten he's doing it.

"Well, this is..."

"Stupid?" you offer.

"I was gonna say unfortunate, but yeah. Stupid works too."

You're still close enough to feel his breath on your lips, still wound tight with want, still buzzing from that kiss. And now you're both laughing about it, which should probably kill the mood but somehow doesn't. Somehow makes it better, actually. More real. Less like some fantasy hookup and more like...

Nope. Not going there. This is still just a one-night thing. A one-night thing that's currently being cockblocked by your respective living situations, but still. Just one night.

"So what now?" he asks, and his voice has dropped back into that lower register that you really want to hate. "Because I really want to kiss you again."

"Just kiss?" The words slip out before you can stop them, teasing and suggestive and probably way too candid.

His grip tightens, just marginally. Just enough to make your breath catch. "Definitely not just kiss."

"Fuck," you breathe, because eloquence has left the building. Possibly the state.

"That's the idea, yeah." And how he says it—all gruff edges and sinful vow—makes embers spark low in your abdomen. "Just need to sort out the logistics."

Which brings you right back to your current predicament. No Emma's place, no his place, and you're pretty sure having sex in the club bathroom is both tacky and probably illegal. But the way he's looking at you, like he really, really wants to wreck you…

"We could..." you start, then pause. Because what? What brilliant solution are you about to offer here? Your practical brain is absolutely useless right now, short-circuited by the lingering taste of whiskey on your tongue and the steady pressure of his hands on your body.

"Could what?" His thumb traces your bottom lip, and your train of thought derails completely.

"I have no idea," you admit, and his laugh is somehow both frustrated and fond.

"This is definitely stupid," he says, but he's still holding you close, still looking at your mouth like he's considering kissing you again anyway, roommate situations be damned.

"So stupid," you agree, already tilting your face up to meet him halfway.

You lick your lips, tasting geosmin and want and really awful decision-making skills.

Fuck it. Fuck everything. Emma can kill you tomorrow.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist—god, his hands are so warm—and you're already moving, already pulling up the Uber app with your free hand. Thank fuck for muscle memory because your brain is absolutely useless right now, too busy cataloging the way his pulse jumps under your fingers, the way he follows without hesitation.

"Where we goin'?" His voice is low and hoarse as he trails behind you, wrist a hostage to your grip.

"To my friend's place," you mutter, trying to type Emma's address without typos.

You: 𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠

You don’t mention you’re not heading home alone. She’ll find out herself.

The dude, for his part, just hums in response, like he's fine with whatever as long as it means getting somewhere private. Which, fair. You're kind of operating on the same wavelength here.

You make it to the coat check line first, because priorities. You’re not leaving your jacket behind. And it is moving at a glacial pace, because of course it is. The universe clearly wants to test your self-control by forcing you to stand here, his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot on your neck.

The way his fingers keep "accidentally" brushing your thigh has you seriously considering saying fuck it and just leaving your jacket behind.

"Could just come back for it tomorrow," he murmurs, like he's reading your mind. His lips brush your ear as he speaks, and you barely sigh in response. Bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

"It's January in New York. I'm not getting hypothermia just because you can't keep it in your pants for five minutes."

"Could keep you warm."

And okay, that line should be cringeworthy. That's the kind of shit that would usually make you roll your eyes so hard they'd get stuck. But he has a way with words—or maybe it’s just his fucking voice—and somehow you like it.

"Next," the coat check girl calls, mercifully saving you from having to respond. You practically lunge forward, fumbling with your ticket. Better than letting him feel how that stupid line affected you.

He reaches past you to hand over his own ticket, arm bracketing you against the counter. And really? Really? This is some romance novel bullshit right here. Who does he think he is, Christian Grey? You should be annoyed. You should definitely not be noticing how good he smells, or how the position highlights just how much bigger he is than you, or—

"Here you go!" The coat check girl's voice is way too cheerful for—you check your phone—3:46 AM. She hands over your coats with a knowing smile that makes your face heat. Great. Just great. Even the coat check girl can tell you're about to make terrible life choices.

He helps you into your jacket because apparently he's decided to be a gentleman now, after spending the last hour making you question your life choices with his mouth. His hands linger on your shoulders just a fraction too long, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

"Ready?" he asks, voice still pitched low enough to make your skin tingle. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and let him guide you toward the exit with his hand on your lower back.

The coat check girl calls out "Have fun!" as you leave, and you seriously consider moving to a different city. Maybe a different country. Somewhere people don't immediately clock your questionable decision-making skills.

The Uber arrives embarrassingly fast—some higher power must be looking out for horny idiots tonight—and you both slide into the backseat. You start on opposite sides because you're trying to be decent human beings, trying to remember that your poor driver doesn't deserve a free show.

But then he's moving closer.

And closer.

And suddenly his mouth is on yours again, hot and demanding, and okay, yeah, sorry Mr. Uber driver but this is happening. His hand cups your jaw, tilting your head just so, and you're definitely making some kind of noise in the back of your throat but you're beyond caring. Beyond thinking about anything except the way his tongue slides against yours, the way his other hand grips your thigh.

Fifteen minutes. That's all it is from the club to Emma's place. Fifteen minutes that somehow feel like both seconds and eternity, lost in a haze of wandering hands and stolen kisses and trying (failing) to keep things PG-13. You're vaguely aware of streets passing, of turns and stops, of the driver pointedly turning up the radio.

And then your attention shifts. His teeth graze your bottom lip, fingers slowly sliding on your inner thigh. Hisses when your nails find his scalp. Heat. Want. Need. Building higher with each passing minute until you're practically vibrating out of your skin.

By some miracle (or possibly divine intervention), you make it to Emma’s building. You stumble out of the Uber, giving the driver your most apologetic smile-grimace combo. He just shakes his head, probably adding you to his mental list of "drunk hookups I never want to see again."

But then he's pressing you against the building's front door, mouth hot on your neck, and you really can't bring yourself to care about your Uber rating right now. Not when his hands are everywhere, not when he's making these little sounds against your skin that go straight between your legs.

It takes three tries to get the key in the lock—partly because it's 4 AM and you're tipsy, mostly because he won't stop kissing you long enough to focus. When you finally get the door open, you nearly fall through it, saved only by his arm around your waist.

"Smooth," he murmurs against your lips, laughing softly.

"Shut up," you breathe back, already pulling him in for another kiss. His back hits the closing door with a thud that's definitely too loud for 4 AM, but you're past caring. Past thinking about anything except the way his hands feel sliding up your sides, the way he tastes, the way he's eating you up with his eyes.

Emma's definitely going to murder you tomorrow. But with the way his fingers are digging into your hips, the way he's kissing you like he's trying to crawl inside your skin?

What-fucking-ever.

He pushes off the door like a man on a mission, and suddenly you're airborne—your legs wrapping around his waist on pure instinct. And okay, that's hot. The way he lifts you like you weigh nothing, the solid press of his body against yours, the little growl he makes when your hips roll against his.

"Room?" His voice is wrecked already, breath hot against your mouth between kisses that make your head spin.

You gesture vaguely toward Emma's guest room, too busy mapping the muscles of his shoulders to form actual words. He exhales sharply against your lips, already moving. Your jackets become casualties somewhere in the hallway, dropped with fumbling hands and zero grace because yeah, the vodka's definitely hitting now. Everything's warm and hazy and electric, your skin buzzing everywhere he touches.

Then you're falling backward onto the bed, and holy fuck. The way he's looking down at you—like he's been lost in the desert and you're a fucking oasis—it makes your breath catch in your throat. Makes heat pool low in your belly, makes your thighs press together in anticipation.

His shirt comes off in one fluid motion and—

Jesus fucking Christ.

You've seen attractive guys before. You've seen gym bros and athletes and the whole spectrum of male bodies. But this? This is like someone took Michelangelo's David and decided to make him real but better. He's all lean muscle and smooth skin, but with just enough softness to make him touchable. Human. Perfect.

And his chest—god, his chest. It's not the rock-hard wall of muscle you'd expect from someone who looks like that. Instead, there's this ideal balance of firm and soft, creating the most magnificent set of man tiddies you've ever laid eyes on. The kind you could actually cuddle up to without feeling like you're resting on concrete. The kind that would make a flawless pillow after—

Your lusty brain stops working as he leans down, pressing his hips deliberately against yours as his mouth finds your neck. His tongue traces patterns on your skin that make you arch up against him, desperate for more contact.

"Fuck," he breathes against your throat, nosing along your pulse point. "You smell so good. Like vanilla and..." He inhales deeply, making your skin erupt in goosebumps. "Like something sweet I wanna taste."

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the play of muscles under warm skin. He's perfectly balanced above you, using just enough of his weight to make you feel deliciously pinned without crushing you. You fucking love it. Don’t know why, don’t know how. Maybe it's just how attractive he is, or the heat of his mouth on your neck, or the press of his body against yours or the way he keeps making these little sounds like he can't help himself.

He's kissing you again before your vodka-soaked brain can process anything beyond rudimentary want, primal need. It's all heat and tongue and teeth, messy and perfect in the way only drunken hookups can be. One of his hands slides up your neck, fingers spreading across your throat. Not squeezing, just...resting.

It's fucking electric.

Your hands map the expanse of his back, nails dragging lightly in a way that makes him groan into your mouth. He's all smooth skin and sinewy muscle, hot to the touch and absolutely unfair. No one should be allowed to feel this good. To make you feel this good, just by existing.

He drags his mouth down your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tight enough to make him hiss. Which is hot. Way too hot, because that noise? It immediately spirals straight between your thighs.

And fuck, how he grinds down against you in response. It's obscenely filthy, the perfect pressure in just the right spot to make you want to moan aloud. To be shameless.

"Fuck," he breathes against your skin, and you feel it more than hear it. Feel the heat of his breath, the barely restrained want in the way he's touching you. "You feel so fucking good."

Your hips roll up to meet his in a way that's purely instinctual. Because yeah, he feels good too. Better than good. You feel the maddening length of him grinding against you through his jeans; his hand around your neck and—god, you want to claw his back, to wrap your legs around his waist and just take.

The hand on your neck flexes just slightly, thumb brushing your jawline and you think you die just a little because hello? You like that. You really, really fucking like that. New kink unlocked, it seems.

"Want you," he murmurs, voice low and rough with arousal. "Want you so fucking bad, you have no idea."

And oh, you do. You really, really do. Because wanting him is all you can think about right now. All you can focus on beyond the thrumming of your heart, the aching throb between your thighs. You want his hands, his mouth, his—

"Off," you manage, tugging at his jeans with clumsy fingers. "These need to come off like, yesterday."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest into yours. "So fucking bossy."

But he's already leaning back, already working on his fly as you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch. And Jesus Christ, the way he looks right now—shirtless and disheveled, dark hair falling into darker eyes, lips red from your kisses—it's unfair. Unreal.

So fucking hot you think you might actually die if he doesn't touch you again in the next ten seconds.

His jeans hit the floor with a soft thud and holy fuck—the sight of him in just black boxer briefs should be illegal in at least forty-eight states. Like, someone call the police because this? This is absolutely criminal. The way the fabric clings to his thighs, the obvious bulge that makes your mouth water—

But then he's on you again, and thinking becomes a foreign concept.

His hands find the hem of your dress, bunching the fabric up with an urgency that makes heat pool between your legs. You arch up to help him, already anticipating the slide of fabric over skin, but—

Oh.

The second the dress clears your elbows, he presses down. Uses the fabric to pin your arms above your head, effectively trapping you against the mattress. And that's... that's...

Fuck.

His mouth is suddenly on your breast, hot and wet and absolutely perfect. No hesitation, no teasing—just the wet slide of his tongue over your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, and holy shit.

Thank god you wore this dress. Thank every fucking deity that you chose the tight red one that doesn’t need a bra, because the feeling of his mouth directly on your skin is absolutely devastating.

A moan tears from your throat—embarrassingly loud in the quiet room—as his teeth graze sensitive flesh. His responding groan vibrates through your chest, sending shivers down your spine. Your back arches instinctively, pressing more firmly into his mouth as his tongue swirls around your peaked nipple.

His free hand finds your throat again, and—

Oh god.

His fingers spread wide, applying the slightest pressure. Testing. Exploring. Like he's curious about your reaction, about the way he feels your heartbeat flutter faster in response.

You can't help the soft sound that escapes you—somewhere between a whimper and a moan. His grip tightens fractionally in response, and your cunt clenches around nothing. Because fuck, that shouldn't be as hot as it is. The way he's controlling your breath, the way he's holding you down, the way his mouth is absolutely ruining you one suck at a time...

"Sensitive," he murmurs against your skin, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. Bastard. His thumb strokes along your jugular, feeling the way your breath hitches. "Wonder what other sounds I can get that pretty throat to make."

You'd have a snappy comeback for that. You know you would. But then he's switching to your other breast, teeth scraping just right, and coherent thought becomes a distant memory. All you can focus on is the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pressure of his hand on your throat, the way he's using his other hand to keep you pinned against the bed.

And maybe it's the situation, or maybe it's just him, but you've never been this turned on in your life. Never been this wet, this desperate, this needy. It should be embarrassing really—the way you're practically writhing beneath him, the way every little touch sends electricity sparking through your veins.

But with the way he's groaning against your skin, the way his hips keep grinding against yours like he needs it? Maybe you're not the only one that’s losing sanity here.

His teeth catch your nipple just as his fingers flex against your throat, and the combination pulls a sound from you that you didn’t even know you could make. High and breathy and absolutely wrecked.

"Fuck," he breathes, hot against your wet skin. "The sounds you make..."

His thumb brushes over your throat again, slower this time, before gliding up. Along the underside of your jaw. Pausing at your bottom lip. He applies the slightest pressure, watching as your mouth falls open on instinct. You're not sure whether you breathe or whimper, but it makes his gaze go impossibly darker, makes his hips roll against yours in response.

And then his thumb is there, pressing against your tongue, and—goddamn him—you're sucking without a second thought. The groan he lets out is a shattered thing, low and guttural, as though he's just as wrecked as you.

For three glorious seconds, he just... freezes. Like his brain's temporarily offline, like you've actually managed to short-circuit whatever smooth operator routine he had going.

And okay, maybe that gives you enough time to yank the dress out the rest of the way, tossing it off your bent elbows in a way that you hope was sexier than it felt. He doesn’t seem to notice—too busy looking at you like he's forgotten how he got here. Or how to breathe.

Either way, it's a little distracting.

But then he's moving, yanking his hand back like you've scorched him. And before you can even process the loss, he's sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses that make your skin come alive.

Your tipsy brain tries to catch up with what's unfolding—manages to register the flex of his shoulders, the heat of his mouth marking a path down your stomach, the way his hands are suddenly gripping your thighs and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed like you weigh nothing, kneeling between your spread legs like he belongs there. And how he looks up at you through his lashes, mouth hovering just inches from where you're absolutely drenched through your panties...

You prop yourself up on your elbows because fuck if you're missing this show. The movement makes your head spin slightly—reminder that you are definitely not sober—but the sight of him between your thighs is worth any potential vertigo.

His breath fans hot against your core, and your hips twitch involuntarily. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, but before you can call him out on it, he's leaning in. Pressing his open mouth against you through the thin fabric of your underwear, and—

"Fuck."

The word tears from your throat unbidden because holy shit, this shouldn't feel this good already. It's barely anything—just the heat of his mouth, the slight pressure of his tongue through fabric—but your body's lighting up like a fucking supernova. Like every nerve ending is suddenly dialed to a hundred.

Your fingers find his hair without conscious thought, tangling in the dark strands as he works you through your panties. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightens in response, and fuck—that's definitely going to leave marks.

And okay, yeah. Maybe you're embarrassingly wet. Maybe you can feel it soaking through the fabric, making everything slick and messy. Maybe you should care about that, about being this affected this quickly.

But you don’t. Not really, with the way he's groaning against you like he's dying for it. Like he can't get enough. Yeah, dignity can take a backseat.

Besides, all thoughts of pride or shame fly right out the window when he finally, finally hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. Your hips lift automatically, helping him slide them down your legs. They catch on your heels because of course you're still wearing your fuck-me pumps, but he doesn't seem to mind. Just lets the fabric dangle from one ankle as he dives back in, and—

"Holy shit."

His tongue drags up your slit in one long, deliberate stroke, and your brain temporarily stops working. Like, full system shutdown. Windows XP error sound and everything. Because fuck—that shouldn't feel as mindbogglingly good as it does.

Then he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you make this absolutely mortifying noise—some choked little "guh" that would humiliate you if you were sober enough to care. His lip ring adds this extra edge of sensation that makes your thighs quake, cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He makes this sound against you—something between a hum and a growl (and okay, yeah, maybe 'growl' isn't the right word because what are you, fucking animals? But you're drunk and getting your pussy eaten properly for the first time in forever, so vocabulary can fuck right off). Whatever it is, it vibrates through you in a way that has your hips jerking up, seeking more.

Then he's doing these small, slow circles around your clit. So. Fucking. Slow. Like he wants to drive you crazy, wants you to fucking writhe against him. You try not to just grind up against his face. Because that would be desperate, right? That would be—

Damn.

The circles suddenly get faster, tighter, more intense. His tongue flicking over your clit with the kind of speed and precision that would put Fast & Furious to shame. And the sounds coming out of your mouth? Yeah, those aren't even words anymore. Just a stream of "oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck."

If Emma’s home—because it’s probably been an hour already—she’s probably getting one hell of a show through these paper-thin walls. But you know what? She fucking owes you. All those times you covered for her sneaking out to Bobby Martinez's house in high school? Yeah, consider this payback with interest.

He drags his tongue back down, gathering your wetness (and okay, yeah, you're basically flooding at this point but whatever), then slides back up. Adding texture to his movements like some kind of oral sex virtuoso. Because apparently this stranger knows exactly what he's doing with that mouth, and honestly? Good for you. You deserve this. You deserve to have your pussy eaten by someone who treats it like a goddamn art form.

So you lean back, let yourself enjoy it. Let him explore and taste and fuck—the way he's absolutely feasting on you like you're his last meal. His tongue finds your clit again, and this time he sucks it into his mouth, and the sound that rips from your throat probably violates noise ordinances in several states.

The wet sounds of his mouth on you are absolutely obscene. Like, pornographic-level obscene. All sucking and slurping and Jesus fucking Christ, you should not find that as hot as you do. But with your stiletto digging into his back (when did that happen?) and his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints...

Yeah. Yeah, definitely hot.

Then his tongue drags down, down, down—and fuck, you can feel every ridge, every texture against your sensitive flesh. He reaches your entrance and just... circles it. Like he's mapping you out. Like he’s thinking about his next move.

Five blessed seconds where you can actually catch your breath. Where your brain starts to come back online and—

Fuck.

His tongue plunges into you without warning and your hand definitely just yanks out some of his hair but who fucking cares because his nose is nudging your clit while he tongue-fucks you and—and—

And your brain's offline again. Good talk.

He adjusts his arms, somehow pulling you even closer to his face. As if you weren't already basically smothering him. As if he literally wants to drown in your cunt. And that thought shouldn't be as scorching hot as it is but holy shit.

A moan tears from your throat—loud enough that Emma's probably googling noise complaint laws right now. But you can feel it building, that telltale tightening, that electric tension spreading through your core. Your clit's throbbing in time with your racing pulse and—

And he doesn't change a thing.

Because this guy? This absolute genius between your legs? He knows better than to pull that amateur hour bullshit where they speed up right when you're close. No, he maintains the exact same rhythm, the exact same pressure that got you here. Like he's done this before. Like he actually pays attention to what works.

(And okay, maybe you shouldn't be thinking about his past experience right now but your brain's kind of shorting out so whatever.)

Your stiletto digs deeper into his shoulder—might actually be drawing blood at this point but he doesn't seem to care one iota. If anything, he groans against you like he's getting off on it. Like pain turns him on. And that's...that's definitely something to stash away for later.

Or never. Because this is a one-time thing. Right. Focus.

Except focusing is basically impossible when he's eating you out like it's his actual job. When the pressure's building and building and—

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Your back arches off the bed like you're auditioning for America's Next Top Model: After Dark Edition. The orgasm hits you like a riptide, waves of pleasure so intense your vision actually whites out for a second. Your thighs clamp around his head, heel probably leaving permanent marks on his back, and you're definitely making sounds that would make a porn star blush but—

But holy shit.

His tongue flicks over your oversensitive clit one last time—the absolute bastard—and your whole body jerks as you whimper. Which, okay, definitely earned that one. Because holy fuck.

You slump back against the bed, bones liquified, as he prowls up your body. His hands plant on either side of your face and—wow, okay, up close he's even more unfairly beautiful. All sharp jawline and scorching eyes and lips that are literally glistening with...yeah.

"You taste exactly like you smell," he murmurs, and what kind of weird-ass compliment is that? Like, thanks? Good to know your pussy matches your perfume brand?

Except...it kind of works? Something tingles in your face and no. Absolutely not. You are not getting all swoony just because Hot Stranger is saying vaguely poetic shit during sex. This is just your horny lizard brain going 'hot man say words, neurons go brr.' That's all.

Then his mouth is on your neck and—yeah, okay, thinking is canceled anyway. His hands trace maddening patterns down your stomach, feather-light touches that make your muscles jump. And when he tugs his briefs down, his cock springs free and—

Oh.

Well then.

Your body apparently didn’t get the memo about the standard refractory period because hello, Round Two suddenly seems very appealing. It hasn’t even been five minutes since you came but here you are, already clenching around nothing like some kind of sex-starved teenager.

He leans back slightly, reaching for something and—ah. His jeans. More specifically, his wallet. From which he produces not one but multiple condoms, and honestly? We love a prepared king. Nothing hotter than a guy who practices safe sex without having to be asked.

(And yes, you're literally evaluating his sexual responsibility while naked and still tingling from one of the best orgasms of your life. Sue you.)

He grabs one condom and tosses the others somewhere on the bed. Then—because apparently he's auditioning for some porno-meets-action-movie hybrid—he puts the wrapper between his teeth. Locks eyes with you. Rips it open.

And okay, PSA time: Kids (not that any kids should be reading this, what the fuck brain?)—this is not how you open condoms. Use your fingers like a normal person, not your teeth like some kind of sexual menace. That's literally Condom Safety 101.

But then again, when a guy this stupid hot does literally anything, your brain just kind of... accepts it. Like yeah, sure, demolish that condom wrapper with your teeth while maintaining smoldering eye contact. That's normal. That's fine. You're fine.

He gives the condom a cursory check (okay, at least he's being thorough), pinches the tip between his fingers and you just... watch. Wait.

"You gonna fuck me tomorrow or...?" The words slip out before your self-censor can nab them, biting and teasing.

Bad choice.

His hand—his stupidly large, stupidly warm hand—wraps around your thigh and yanks you down the bed in one fluid motion. And why the fuck is that so hot? Why are you noticing how his fingers practically span your whole thigh? Why is the heat of his palm against your skin making your breath catch?

Your eyes flicker back to his cock and—oh. When did he even get the condom on? You must have missed that while you were having your crisis about his hands. But he's ready now, thick and hard and—

Fuck.

He pushes in with one swift motion and your body just... takes him. Like you're literally eager for it, still slick and open from his mouth. He makes this soft gasping sound like he's actually dying, like your cunt is some kind of religious experience.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, hips flush against yours. "So fucking slippery and warm, feels like silk—"

"That's—ah—what happens when you eat someone out properly," you manage, even as your walls flutter around him. Because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit, even with a dick inside you.

His laugh is rough, breathless.

"I’ll keep that in mind."

And fuck—the way he says it, like a promise, like a threat. Your cunt clenches at the thought and he actually growls.

He pushes your thighs down against the mattress and—ow. Okay, that's definitely going to hurt tomorrow. Future You is probably already plotting Present You's murder, adding your name to some karmic hit list right next to Emma’s (who, let’s be real, is definitely contemplating homicide through these paper-thin walls right now).

But then he starts moving and—oh.

Oh fuck.

Every coherent thought evaporates because he's burying himself so deep you swear he's trying to carve out a permanent place inside you. Like he wants your body to remember exactly how he feels, wants to leave an impression that'll last long after tonight.

You didn’t even get a proper look at his size earlier (too busy fizzing over his hands, his mouth, literally everything else), but holy shit. What you do know is he's thick—like, properly thick. Every inch of him pressed against your walls like he's trying to eliminate any space between you, like he's mapping out your insides for future reference.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, and you actually feel him twitch inside you. "So fucking—"

"Less talking," you manage to gasp out, "more moving."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "As you wish."

He snaps his hips once—testing, exploring—and your breath hitches in your throat. Then again. And again. Quick thrust in, torturously slow pull out, and every single time has you gasping like some Victorian maiden with a too-tight corset.

"Like that?" He sounds way too smug for someone balls-deep in a stranger. "The way you squeeze me every time I—"

"You always this chatty during sex?" Your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. "Or am I just special?"

Another snap of his hips that makes your eyes roll back. "Maybe I just like the sounds you make when I'm inside you."

And fuck—why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You're still so wet from earlier that you can hear it, can feel how smoothly he glides in and out, nice and easy.

"You're certainly—ah—confident," you manage between thrusts, because apparently your mouth doesn’t know when to quit. "Compensating for something?"

His grip on your thighs tightens. "Want me to stop and let you check?"

"Don’t you fucking dare."

His pace quickens and—oh hello, is that a smirk he's biting back? It is. It absolutely fucking is. And your brain, your stupid, traitorous brain, finds that scorching. Because of course it does. You squint your eyes shut because you can’t deal with how cocky he looks right now, can’t process how that cockiness is actually doing it for you.

Congratulations, you've officially lost it. This is your villain origin story. Death by dick-induced insanity. They'll write case studies about you in Psychology Today: "Local Woman's Brain Melts Because Hot Stranger Has Good Dick Game." Your mother would be so proud.

But also? Also shut the fuck up, brain, because you're literally getting the best dick of your life right now so maybe save the self-reproach for later? Like, there's a time and place for your characteristic overthinking and this ain’t it.

He leans forward then, changing the angle as he chases your mouth, and holy fuck. Each thrust goes deeper, harder, faster—like he's trying to reach parts of you no one else has touched. His kiss is messy, all tongue and teeth and desperation, and you're actually whimpering into his mouth like some kind of—

Wait.

Hold the fucking phone.

Since when do you whimper? What is this, some kind of Harlequin romance novel? Are you secretly the protagonist of a Fabio-covered paperback? Because you don’t whimper. You don’t make these soft, needy little sounds into strange men’s mouths. That’s not your brand. That’s not—

But then he rolls his hips in this way that makes you see actual fucking stars, and okay, you know what? Fuck your brand. Fuck everything. Because the way he's moving? The way he's filling you up like you're some kind of horny piñata? Yeah, that takes precedence over your identity crisis.

And speaking of crises—why does this feel so fucking good? Like, mathematically speaking, dick is dick. It's basic anatomy. Tab A into Slot B. So why does every thrust feel like he's rewriting the laws of physics? Why does your body respond to him like he's got some kind of sexual Midas touch?

The worst part? The absolute worst part? You can feel another orgasm building already. Which is ridiculous. Impossible. You literally came like ten minutes ago. This man hasn’t even finished once and here you are, ready to go again like some kind of horny Energizer bunny.

You need to have a serious conversation with your pussy about standards and expectations. Like, what happened to the refractory period? What happened to playing hard to get? Because this? This instant response to everything he does? This eager little flutter every time he hits that spot just right?

This is just embarrassing.

But also really, really fucking good.

"You take my cock so fuckin' well," he groans against your neck, voice rough and slurred. "Like y'were made for it, so perfect—"

And okay, what kind of porn dialogue bullshit is that? Who actually says things like that during sex? More importantly, why is it working? Why does every filthy word from his mouth send electricity shooting straight to your cunt?

"Hnnngh—"

That's it. That's all you can manage because your brain-to-mouth filter is totally fried. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he hits that spot just right, and you're pretty sure you're leaving marks but whatever. Future Him problems.

"F-fuck, how you clench around me when I say shit like that," his words come out breathless, hitching. "Like hearing how good you feel? How tight and wet and fucking flawless—"

"Shut up." But it comes out more like a whine than a command, completely undermining any attempt at snark. Your walls flutter around him traitorously, and his responding groan vibrates through your whole body.

"Make me," he challenges, punctuating it with a particularly vicious thrust that has your eyes rolling back. "Or maybe you don't want me to? Maybe you secretly get off on—fuck—on hearing how amazing you are, how nobody's ever swallowed me this deep before—"

"Nghh—" Your brain's offline. Completely fucking offline. No thoughts, head empty, just the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside you, the heat of his breath against your neck, the absolute filth falling from his lips.

"S'true though," he pants, pace growing erratic. "Never felt anything like this, like your—oh fuck—"

A moan tears from your throat—loud and wanton and utterly mortifying. But you can't help it, not when he's fucking you like he's trying to ruin you for anyone else, not when he keeps saying these things that make your insides turn to molten lava.

"That's it, lemme hear you," he encourages, and you want to punch him for how smug he sounds but you also want him to never stop. "Love the sounds you make when I'm deep in this pussy, when I—shit—"

His voice catches as you deliberately tighten around him, a small victory that makes you smirk despite how your body's on fire.

"Fuck, you're evil."

"You talk too much," you manage to get out between gasps, even as your hips chase his rhythm desperately. You're close—so fucking close—but not quite there.

He laughs against your neck, the sound dark and promising.

“Touch yourself for me."

When you don't immediately comply—because for some reason you still want to challenge him—he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

"Rub that pretty clit, show me how you like it."

The command in his voice shouldn't turn you on this much. "Make me," you challenge, because apparently your mouth has a death wish.

"Oh?"

His rhythm slows to something torturous, each thrust deep and deliberate. "Do I need to show you where it is? Guide those lovely fingers myself?"

You're about to snark back when his hand slides between your bodies, and—oh. Oh.

"Found it," he says with infuriating smugness, circling your clit with practiced ease. Your whole body jerks at the contact, oversensitive and desperate. "Seems like I know exactly where it is. Don't I?"

"Fuck—" Your voice breaks as he applies just the right amount of pressure, the bastard. "You're so—nghh—"

"I'm so what?" He's grinning now, you can hear it in his voice even as you squeeze your eyes shut. "C'mon, tell me. Use your words."

"Insufferable," you grit out, but your body betrays you, arching into his touch. "Arrogant—ah—asshole—"

"Maybe." His fingers speed up, matching the pace of his thrusts, and holy shit you're going to die. "But I'm an arrogant asshole who's about to make you cum again, aren't I?"

He's right and you hate it. Hate how well he reads your body, hate how he found your clit without hesitation like he's got some kind of carnal GPS, hate how fucking good he is at this.

"That's it," he encourages as your breathing hitches, as your nails dig into his shoulders. "Let me feel you fall apart. Wanna feel this cunt clamp down on my cock when you—"

His hips stutter and you can feel him pulsing inside you, even through the condom. The way his whole body tenses, the broken sound he makes against your throat—it pushes you right over the edge. Yeah. Your second orgasm says hi; has you curling your toes against his back, tensing your thighs around him as if he would ever dream of leaving right now.

"Fuck fuck fuck—" You're not even sure which one of you is saying it anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe you're having an out-of-body experience because Jesus Christ.

For a moment, there's just silence. Just breathing. Just the sound of your heart trying to recall its normal cadence. Then he chuckles against your cheek—a low, sated sound that you'll deny remembering tomorrow—and follows it with a quick nip that makes you jolt.

"Fuck, that was good," he breathes, still catching his breath.

"S'alright," you manage, even though your legs are literally jelly and your brain's still rebooting.

He pulls back just enough to quirk an eyebrow at you, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. "Just alright?"

"Fishing for compliments?" You raise your own eyebrow, trying to ignore how his hand is still absently stroking your hip. "That's kind of desperate."

"Says the girl who came twice."

And—okay, rude. Accurate, but rude.

He shifts then, carefully pulling out (and at least he's considerate about it, making sure not to hurt you), and starts dealing with the condom. But then he just... stands there. Looking lost. Condom in hand and this adorably bemused expression that makes something in your chest do a weird little flip.

No. Not adorable. Nothing about this guy is adorable. Hot? Yes. Skilled with his tongue? Abso-fucking-lutely. But not adorable. You refuse to find anything about him cute, especially not the way he's glancing around the room like a lost puppy trying to figure out where to—

You can't stifle the snort that escapes you. "Trash can's over there, genius." You gesture with your head toward the small bin by the dresser. "Try not to get lost on the way."

He rolls his eyes but moves across the room, and you definitely don't watch the play of muscles in his back as he walks. Or the way his ass looks in the dim light. Or how his hand rakes through his tousled hair as he leans down to dispose of the condom and—

Fuck.

Fuck.

Because here's the thing: you've had one-night stands before. You know how this goes. Quick fuck, awkward goodbye, never see each other again. That's the routine. That's the protocol. That's what smart, sensible people do.

But.

But you're already thinking about how his mouth felt between your legs. About how he filled you up just right. About how he seemed to know exactly what to do with his hands, his hips, his—

And you know what? Fuck it. Fuck being sensible and sane. Fuck playing it cool. You've got a hot guy with stellar dick game right here, right now. Might as well take advantage while you can.

Before your brain can talk you out of it, you're launching yourself off the bed. Your legs are still a bit wobbly (thanks, Mr. Two Orgasms), but you manage to catch him just as he turns around. Your mouth crashes into his, messy and demanding, as you push him against the wall.

His surprised grunt turns into a pleased hum against your lips, and his hands immediately find your hips like they belong there. Like this is exactly what he was hoping would happen.

Cocky bastard.

He spins you around so fast your head spins—or maybe that's just the lingering vodka. Either way, suddenly your back's hitting the wall and—oh. Okay. This is happening. Again. Because apparently your body doesn't give two shits about being thoroughly fucked already.

His mouth crashes back into yours, hungry and insistent, and it should be gross really—you can taste yourself on his tongue, everything's messy and uncoordinated and frantic. But instead it's just...hot. So fucking hot you feel like you're melting from the inside out.

Then his hands slide down to your thighs and he's lifting you like you weigh zilch (and seriously, what is it with this guy and manhandling? More importantly, why do you like it?). Your legs wrap around his waist automatically, and how his cock twitches against your stomach—already getting hard again—should not make you feel this smug.

"Eager?" you manage to gasp between kisses, because apparently your mouth doesn't know when to quit.

He bites your bottom lip in response, just hard enough to make you whimper (and fuck, there's that sound again, what is wrong with you tonight?). "I’m sorry? Weren’t you the one jumping me?”

"Just felt sorry for you." The words come out breathier than intended as his mouth finds that spot behind your ear. "Standing there looking all lost with your used condom—"

His growl cuts you off, vibrating through his chest into yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat, and—fuck. The way he attacks your neck like he's trying to mark you up, like he wants everyone to know exactly what you've been doing...

Then his mouth finds yours again, swallowing whatever protest you might have made. And it's different this time—sloppier, needier. All clashing teeth and warring tongues and his hands everywhere at once. You're pressed so tightly between him and the wall you can feel every twitch of his muscles, every stuttered breath.

One of his hands slides up your thigh, fingertips trailing fire in their wake, and you're already embarrassingly slick again. Already aching for him like you didn't just have him inside you minutes ago. Your hips roll against him craving friction, and the sound he makes—half groan, half snarl—shoots straight between your legs.

"Condom," you gasp against his mouth. "Need a—"

"Yeah," he breathes, but he doesn't move away. Just keeps kissing you like he's suffocating and you're oxygen, like he can't bear to stop even for a heartbeat. "Yeah, just—fuck, you feel so good—"

Your brain's rapidly disintegrating, especially with the way he keeps grinding against you, the way his mouth keeps doing that to your neck. But you manage to remember: "Bed. Other condoms. On the bed."

He makes this sound of acknowledgment but still doesn't budge, just shifts his hips in a way that has his cock sliding against your clit and—jesus fuck.

"If you don't get a condom right now," you warn, voice embarrassingly unsteady, "I'm going to kill you."

His laugh is rough, breathless. "Such violence."

He practically teleports to the bed—like, Olympic-level sprinting for that condom. It'd be comical, the way he fumbles with the wrapper (apparently Mr. Smooth isn't so smooth when he's desperate), except you're too busy being embarrassingly turned on by his urgency.

You're about to suggest moving to the bed—because your legs are already shaking and wall sex seems ambitious after two orgasms—but—

Holy fuck.

He's got you up against the wall again in one fluid motion, hands gripping your thighs as he lines himself up and—oh god. The sound that rips from your throat as he fills you in one swift thrust is utterly shameful. But the broken "fuck" that falls from his lips? How his whole body shudders as he bottoms out?

Yeah, okay. Maybe worth the mortification.

"Jesus fuck," he breathes against your neck, voice wrecked. "You feel—shit, how do you feel even better than before?"

"Hush it," you gasp, even as your walls flutter around him. "And move."

He laughs, breathless and gritty. "Demanding little thing." But he's already moving, setting a pace that has your head lolling back. "God, you’re even wetter than before, taking me so well—”

"That your professional opinion?" Your attempt at snark falls flat when it comes out as more of a moan. "Done extensive research, have you?"

His hips snap up particularly hard at that. "Never—fuck—never felt anything like this."

And that should be a line. That should be the kind of bullshit guys say during hookups to stroke their own egos. Except the way he says it—all breathless wonder and raw honesty—makes something hot unfurl in your chest.

"Yeah?" It comes out embarrassingly breathy, but whatever. Can’t really care when every thrust is melting honey down your spine. "Prove it."

He makes this sound—half growl, half moan—like he fucking loves your audacity. "Already made you come twice."

"Maybe I was faking."

"Sweetheart, nobody's that good an actress."

And honestly? Fair. But you're not about to admit that, not when he's already so smug about how well he plays your body. Instead, you drag him down for a kiss that's more teeth than finesse, swallowing his groans as his pace gets more erratic.

"F-fuck," he pants against your mouth. "Gonna make you come again. Wanna feel you—"

"Big talk for someone who—ah—hasn't delivered yet."

His responding thrust makes your back arch off the wall. "Jus’ wait."

His hips snap up harder at your challenge, making your head thump back against the wall. And fuck—the way he's moving now, all rough desperation and graceless rhythm. Everything's wet and messy and absolutely filthy, the sounds of skin on skin blending with your breathless moans.

"Still—ah—ah—waiting for that delivery," you manage, even as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Fuckin’—" His breathless laugh is menacing. "Always—fuck—gotta have the last word, don’tcha?”

You'd have a comeback for that, you really would, except he chooses that moment to shift his angle and—holy shit. Because now? Now his pubic bone grinds against your clit every time he moves, every time he thrusts deep inside you. And honestly? Fucking unfair that even his bones know where your clit is.

You can feel him twitching inside you, can tell he's close by the way his breath comes in harsh pants against your neck. And you're almost there too, just need a little more—

But then he's groaning, hips stuttering as he cums. His whole body tenses, pressing you flatter against the wall as he empties into the condom.

And okay, great for him, congratulations, but you were so fucking close.

You tap his back urgently. "Keep goin’."

"What?" He's still catching his breath, forehead pressed against your shoulder. "Gimme a second, ah—I just—"

"I was—right there," you whine (and yes, you're actually whining now, this is what you've been reduced to). "Don't you dare stop."

He lifts his head, looking at you incredulously. "I literally just filled the condom—"

"I don't give a fuck, just move."

And okay, yeah, PSA time number two: This is definitely not safe sex practice. The second a condom's full, it needs to be changed. That's like, Sex Ed 101. But also? Also your clit is throbbing and you were this close to coming and your horny lizard brain has completely taken over.

"Jesus," he breathes, but he's already starting to move again, shallow little thrusts that make your eyes roll back. "You're fucking insatiable."

"Like earlier," you gasp, grinding down against him. "With the… with your hipbone."

He laughs against your neck—a rough, breathless sound that shouldn't be as arousing as it is. "Gotcha."

And he does. Repositions himself, makes sure he’s got exactly the same position he had earlier. His hipbone comes in contact with your clit as he begins thrusting faster again, and fucking yeah, that’s what you needed.

"Fuck, the way you feel," he groans. "So slick and snug and—shit—"

"Shut up shut up shut up—"

Because you can't handle his voice right now, can't deal with how his words make the drowning sensation grow more and more intense by the second. You're so close you can taste it, right on the precipice, just need a little more—

Then he nips at your neck, his tongue flattening against your pulse point. And that's it. You're a goner. Again. For the third time tonight.

Your entire body locks up as bliss courses through, lapping at your core like waves at a shore. Your eyes instinctively close as you relish it in all its intensity, and you're pretty sure you make some kind of mortifying noise but whatever. Three orgasms in, dignity is a distant memory.

He slows his movements gradually, letting you ride it out, and you can feel him softening inside you. Your head drops to his shoulder because keeping it upright seems like way too much effort right now. The residual booze is hitting different after getting thoroughly wrecked—everything soft and fuzzy around the edges.

You vaguely register him checking the condom with his free hand—the other one still supporting your ass because apparently you're not ready to unwrap your legs from his waist yet. Your brain's moving in slow motion, heavy with alcohol and mist and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that only comes from really good sex.

"Hey." He taps your back lightly. "You falling asleep on me? Dick game that good?"

"Die," you mumble into his shoulder, not even bothering to lift your head. "Just... shut up and die."

You hear him chuckle, vaguely. It should be irritating. It isn't. You're too drained to care. Everything's warm and hazy and your limbs feel like they're crafted from lead.

You're only half-aware of him moving you to the bed, of sheets being pulled up, of a warm body pressing against your back. Your consciousness is already drifting, floating in that space between awake and asleep where nothing quite computes.

The last thing you register, right before slumber claims you completely, is his nose pressed against your neck and his drowsy murmur:

“Smell like vanilla now too."

⋆｡°✩ TAGLIST ✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook

© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[90sbee]

y'know no hate to ppl that don't use any labels bc that's me at this point of my life but !!! god how i miss feeling like i belong to a specific community (either the bi one or the lesbian one bc i have gone through both labels in different periods of my life) bc it's just feels nice knowing there are others feeling the same but now it's just !!!! it's alienating being this lost and like for someone that is 100% sure she is attracted to women i talk abt that attraction very little in comparison with how much i talk abt fictional man when in reality most men irl give me the ick and !!! ugh !!

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Hello.

You and gay-jesus-probably have successfully made me question everything with your view that Tears of the Kingdom is imperialist propaganda, so that's been fun.

Anyway, I decided to share this discussion with the Zelda fans on reddit, and perhaps unsurprisingly, a lot of them disagreed. Here is what they said (I'm Alarming_Afternoon44):

So what do you think? Have I and all these other people just been duped by the game's manipulative framing? Or do they actually have a point?

And if you'd rather not answer this, or would prefer if I censored the usernames, just tell me and I'll delete this.

Hey! Thanks a lot for reaching out, and I'm glad it made you think stuff through!!

Honestly, as I mentioned in this post, I am not super interested about in-world conversations about who oppresses who, because what can be assessed from the game is super vague and more vibes-based than evidence-based. Within the text, of course that the Good Zonais are good and the Bad Ganondorf is bad! But that's my whole point! The narrative has been deliberately crafted so that the zonais and Rauru (and Hyrule) are as blameless as possible (and it's not doing a great job at it overall to be frank; we would not be having these conversations about how offputting it all feels for a non-zero number of people if it did do a great job). More importantly, I want to focus on what sort of real-life narrative it all parallels. Because people make stories, and people live in the real world.

Not going after everyone's throat here, gamedev is hard and the hydras that are AAA game production do end up doing super weird stuff, especially since the thematic ramifications are absolutely never prioritized (and it's also always the same kind of people who make the final calls and push out what can and can't be talked about also). And as fans, we tend to have trouble stepping outside the lens of lore and take a look at the bigger picture sometimes; not as an attack on any individual part of that decision-making process but to just pause, stop, and question our standards, our priorities and the kind of reality (or skewing of reality) the stories we tell each other reflect.

Again: do we want to take videogames seriously or not? If we do, then we need to accept they are a vehicle for ideology, just like any other artform. And sometimes, you push out questionable ideology, sometimes without meaning to, because you didn't unpack your own biases as you did. And it's even fine to do it, nobody is perfect, a 300+ people team spread over 6 years certainly will not be that. But that it wasn't prioritized is, in my opinion, a problem. As a narrative designer, I want games (at least the narrative side) to be held to a higher standard than this. It's literally my job to work with the industry so it can hold itself to higher standards of quality --so the whole TotK situation is quite frustrating to witness from a very pragmatic, work perspective where I already spend my days trying to convince people that things mean things. I have a vested interest here in not having the companies I work for being given a free pass by gamers to do literally whatever as long as it's fun, especially when we're talking about a billion-dollars company suing its own fans left and right for any perceived slight. Nintendo are not underdogs here. It's fine to point out they cut corners and maybe promoted messy ideologies, voluntarily or not.

So long story short: no I don't believe anyone here has a point in regards to what I think is actually important, which is why these choices were made in the first place. If you look at an imperialist text expecting the text to tell you that it's imperialist instead of recognizing a framing used for propaganda by yourself, you're never gonna find any imperialist text ever, obviously not!! I'm sorry if I sound a little gngngn here, but I don't know why audiences have, at large, this feeling that lore and story beat decisions materialize themselves already formed and without any human bias, meddling, intervention, internal politics or approximations (it seems that people can only conceptualize this part if they have actual names to attach to the story, but without clear authors it's like there are no authors and so no bias, which is... a very strange bias in itself). I can promise you that it does not work that way in practice: every narrative department on every big game is a battlefield --some nicer than others, but all of them very emotionally draining either way.

So yeah, I guess that on these grounds, I disagree with every point raised here. Sorry Reddit :/

But thank you for the ask and sorry if I didn't go more into details as to why. The big Why I Dislike Rauru Post and the Gerudo Post might have some more specific rebuttals, but I am not super interested in debating small detail stuff tbh. I feel like it's no use if the frame of reference isn't being understood in the first place.

[lesenbyan]

you know, I keep thinking about how much I'd get written if I had any self discipline at all and then like. doing nothing about it bc like. who's gonna enforce it? not me.

[jaycestaliss]

.

[cutebat]

You know what, fuck it. I'm going to write my own neglectful yandere batfamily cause everyone else is doing it, but I'm going to do it in a different way.

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

Prologue (Diary Entry)

Warning(s): Mentions of yandere themes, neglect, emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, forcing to drop out, attempted guilt tripping, reader is just venting out her feelings

(I made this in the reader's POV to make the whole 'diary entry' thing more sense.)

~~~~~

July 22, 2024

It's funny when someone tells their story.

Only to be told back that it's unrealistic.

Almost as if they're afraid to believe it's real...

Oh, God, that sounded dark.

~~~~~

For everyone who doesn't know,

Bruce is a billionaire who's also a shitty dad

Dick is a dick, like actually

Jason uses his trauma to let all his frustrations on me

Tim is a delusional bitch

Cass was okay until she knocked me to the ground

Damian is just a thing who you want to burn to ashes

Alfred... I guess is just Alfred

~~~~~

I was basically raised as what people would call a 'black sheep'. Kind of like... actually, I don't need to explain all that.

Basically, I was adopted by the infamous Bruce Wayne when I was ten for whatever reason. After the first day of living with him and the family and giving me the new role of Batgirl, everyone just pretended as if I didn't exist.

I tried to interact with every one of them and all I got were "sorry, can't talk right now" and "can you shut up".

Like, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO THEM?!

Is it because I'm prettier than all of them and had barely any trauma in my past? Seriously, why are people so jealous about these kinds of things?

Bruce really signed all that paperwork for nothing.

Of course, my little ten year old brain would think that if I tried to impress all of them with what I could do, maybe I could gain their attention.

So by the time I was twelve with my ten year old mindset goal in my head, I did nine different after school activities, won over fifteen awards for my achievements, and went out to patrol at least six nights a week.

And none of that worked! Those fuckers wouldn't even spare me a glance!

~~~~~

After a while, you don't see a point in trying your best.

I dropped out of most of the clubs I regret joining, I just laid back in my classes, and most of all...

I quit being Batgirl.

I didn't want to, but like I said, where's the point in that?

So with that, I just gave up on everything and just... stopped trying.

~~~~~

But then one year all of that almost changed?

For the first time ever, I found myself suddenly really pretty, and after a month I entered eighth grade, I was suddenly asked out by one guy, then two, and all the way up to ten!

It was like really cool!

The popular girls became my best friends, more guys would ask me out, and the teachers started pointing out that I was their favorite student, even the ones who weren't my teachers.

It felt like I was on top of everything. That I was special. The world is revolving around me.

Finally, I was in a place to build a great reputation.

And then life was like FUCK THAT!

~~~~~

After the first semester of eighth grade, Bruce was weirdly in my room and he said wanted to have a 'talk' with me.

So, during this talk, he was basically talking about the last three years of me being neglected by him and his family. To be honest, I forgot everything he told me, but honestly, I don't really care.

He also told the others about all this and now they suddenly feel bad which I don't give a shit about. But, I knew he was doing all this to guilt trip me, which was honestly so stupid.

Now, after he dropped that bomb, he told me that I had to drop out of school to do some "bonding time" with the others along with him and the people who actually cared about me didn't really matter at all!

I JUST GOT SETTLED IN!

All I said was "FUCK YOU" and just stormed out of my room with the only thing that I took was my diary that I had for quite a while that I never used before.

~~~~~

So, yeah. I'm currently in the attic, venting my feelings all out on this stupid glitter diary with a random pen that I found on the ground.

But whatever.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters...

My life is just a game.

A sick, hopeless game.

[kooqitas]

#pairing: bf!jeonghan x virgin!reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~2500

#synopsis: you decide to question why your boyfriend is avoiding kissing you, you just didn't expect the reason to be so… sexual

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pet names, loss of virginity, fingering, praise kink, eating cum, oral sex, the reader at one point asks him to stop out of embarrassment, use of lube.

#notes: not proofread, english isn’t my first language! soft sex has its value.

★ m.list | inbox :D ;; taglist

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

dating jeonghan sometimes felt like punishment from the universe. he was the most affectionate boyfriend in the world, he treated you so fucking well, he was affectionate in his touches and gestures, he understood you, he spent all the time he could with you, you felt so fucking loved, and of course, he was beautiful, damn, jeonghan was so beautiful that it was unfair, you even thought when they started flirting that he was lying to you, it was inhumane for someone to be pretty like that.

but then, what would be the punishment of the universe? he didn't feel sexual attraction towards you, seriously, it was the only possible explanation, jeonghan never touched you too much, he never insinuated naughty things to you, it seemed like he enjoyed your presence and that was it.

like now, he gave you a few cute kisses on the couch, but soon walked away, hugging you carefully again and paying attention to the movie. it frustrated you like hell, and not even you could explain what made you complain.

"do you want to break up?"

"excuse me?”

"break up, do you want to break up with me, jeonghan?" you asked again, visibly irritated.

"what? no? baby, are you okay?"

"damn, jeonghan, you don't kiss me properly, i’m tired of this! what's going on?"

jeonghan read you easily, so he soon understood what that subject was about, it turns out that the problem wasn't the lack of sexual attraction that your boyfriend had for you, quite the opposite, the problem was the excess of sexual attraction that he had .

“you’re virgin.”

“hm?”

“i don't kiss you properly because…” he took a breath deep. “being too close to you makes me feel things, and i’ll never pressure you into anything, so i think it's better to stay away.”

“wait. what?”

you gasped slightly at your boyfriend's confession, what do you mean kissing you made him feel things? i mean, of course you know exactly what those things were, but, does jeonghan really feel sexual attraction to you and that's why he avoids kissing you?

“i wanna fuck you, so bad. wow, i wanna fuck you like hell to be honest, but i know you've never had this experience so i don't wanna pressure you into anything.”

“fuck me?”

“so bad. that's why i keep moving away from your touches, you're driving me crazy, doll, i'm gonna go crazy because of you.”

you didn't answer your boyfriend, you just kissed him, knowing that he wanted you like that made you a little clouded with lust, you thought the situation was just the opposite.

"alright, alright, doll, calm down!" he laughed with your mouth still attached to his. “i'm really not kidding when i say you're driving me crazy."

"i need your kiss, hannie!"

“fuck!”

your boyfriend mumbled before kissing you the way he did a few weeks ago, his big hands towards your waist, squeezing there tightly as if he intended to leave marks, as if he wanted you to remember that feeling for hours and hours.

jeonghan seemed a little bolder than other times, especially when he pulled you onto his lap, you went without even thinking, and didn't even notice when he started to awkwardly roll around there, you only noticed the atmosphere of things when he moaned against your mouth.

you were scared, not like you didn't know what that moan or that thing growing beneath you meant, on the contrary, you were scared because you knew exactly what it all was.

"it's okay, princess! I'll take care of myself later." jeonghan was gentle as he placed a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you again boldly.

you had never been in that situation, it was very likely that in the future you would blame your fertile period, and of course, how handsome your boyfriend was and was a good kisser.

but, in a way, you never had any resistance to sex either, it was just a matter of never finding someone who made you 100% comfortable with the idea of ​​taking off your clothes.

well, at least until you met jeonghan.

from the way he kissed you, the way he touched you and moaned against your mouth, even the way he involuntarily lifted his hips against you, fuck, everything made you feel so desired.

you felt his big hands enter your shirt and slowly move up from your belly to your ribs, leaving a not-so-chaste affection there, all while he continued to kiss you. jeonghan needed those touches as much as you did.

“hanie~” you moaned. 

“what, doll?” he kissed your jaw, making you feverish as his thumbs came up to brush against your tits, you had never received that kind of touch, jeonghan smiled when he saw how sly you became with that simple act.

you didn’t say anything else, just relaxed when his thumb finally touched your nipple, moaning against his neck. jeonghan laughed, and fuck, you felt so turned on by his machiavellian laugh.

"is my doll sensitive? god, how will you react when i touch you more..."

jeonghan continued running his thumb there, and you wanted to scream when his index finger came together to pull your nipple, the pleasant sensation of pain with pleasure, it was very different to feel jeonghan do this than to do by your own.

noticing your nonverbal permission, jeonghan pulled your shirt up, and you didn't really notice until he started staring at your breasts, and when you noticed, you tried to cover them, embarrassed.

"no, kitten, don't do that! fuck, you're so beautiful, le’mme put them in my mouth, hm?" jeonghan said kissing your neck, making you forget anything about the damn shame you felt. and when jeonghan finally rolled his tongue around your right nipple you couldn't even think, fuck, that was too much.

your hand entered his hair, pulling hard while you moaned something that even you didn't understand, his tongue surrounding and sucking your nipple with devotion, making you rub yourself even more on his lap. and everything got worse, or better, when he gave a light bite there, eliciting a loud moan from you that made him smile.

"you liked it, didn't you?"

you wanted to tell him to fuck off, you had already talked about you being a virgin, so he knew very well that he was the first person to touch you like that, to be honest, he not only knew but he imagined, fuck, jeonghan lost count of how many times he cum in own hand just imagining how sensitive you would be to his touches.

and there you were, to his happiness, and yours too.

"do you wanna go to my room?"

you were hesitant at first, going to the bedroom would mean letting things get even more intense. of course you were horny, but it was still your first time, you were definitely worried.

"hey, it's okay! we've kissed there several times..." he tried to calm you down.

"not with me without a shirt.”

jeonghan laughed, taking off his shirt too, damn, your boyfriend was so fucking hot. it was the first time you saw your boyfriend without a shirt face to face, damn...

"this makes it worse, not help." you confessed, laughing.

"we're gonna do just what you want, doll."

and so you agreed, letting jeonghan carry you to his bed.

something happened on the way between the sofa and the bed, because jeonghan was much more daring, still careful but cheeky.

he continued sucking your tits, making you lift your hips off the bed in search of more contact while moaning slyly, and then he took two fingers to your mouth, without taking his own mouth off your nipple. you looked at him, not really understanding what he wanted with that, and the answer you got was your boyfriend's dark eyes.

you had never seen jeonghan like this, his look was brimming with lust, that's the truth, you could cum just seeing him like this.

jeonghan kissed you again, removing his fingers from your mouth and cleaning them on your thighs, pressing them there with some force, making you wish more and more that he was touching you somewhere else...

“hannie~” you moaned.

"please, you're gonna drive me crazy moaning like that, i’m trying to have self-control!"

your boyfriend continued to kiss you, his hand groping your body making you shiver and feel chills, you couldn't think of anything else, you didn't even know what you had agreed to when he asked you something that you didn't even understand, but the next minute, your shorts were running down your legs, and despite being shy, you were grateful.

"you're so wet, doll, is this all for me?" you felt your face burn at the question, closing your legs and trying to hide your face with your hand. "no, there's no need to be ashamed, damn it, knowing that you want it the way i want it..."

"what are you doi-" you couldn't finish questioning, jeonghan rubbed his nose against your wet panties before you finished the sentence, making you let out an extremely loud moan, which made him smile.

your moan was the key point for jeonghan to lose even more self control, in the next second he was pushing your panties to the side and running his tongue all over your pussy.

"did you get wet for me? do you want your man to make you cum?"

“hannie… god… hannie, don’t say it!”

"why not?" he said, running his finger over your completely wet cunt. "makes you more horny? that's good, doll, you have to be really relaxed, and open for when i put my cock inside you." jeonghan looked at you as if he knew all of his dirtiest sins. "can i do this, doll? can i prepare you for my cock?"

“p-please…”

you didn't even know what you were asking for please, but it was divine when ejonghan's hot tongue came into contact with your cunt, you arched your hips, whimpering at the new sensation, feeling like you could melt on your boyfriend's tongue and then grabbing his sheet trying to discount what you was feeling.

jeonghan knew exactly what he was doing, every inch of your cunt felt his wet tongue, the new sensation making you whimper with pleasure while he just laughed, enjoying everything. jeonghan added one finger on you, and then two, and by the third you were seeing stars, even more so when he was telling you the whole time that he was just preparing you for his cock.

he spat on your pussy a few times, and the pornographic sound drove you insane, but worse than that was the sound of his tongue playing with you.

you tried to close your legs, your stomach was churning, but jeonghan stopped you, taking his fingers out of you only to lock your legs on the bed, making you moan even more.

"please please!" you tried to push jeonghan away from you, you tried to push his head away, you tried to close your legs. "hannie, please stop, i'll..."

"are you gonna cum for me?"

you knew you would, god it was so embarrassing. you nodded, whimpering in humiliation, trying one last time to get your boyfriend to let go of you, fuck, what if he didn't like the way you tasted?

"then i won't stop, doll! this is the best part... cum in my mouth, princess, your hannie wanna feel you!"

and you don't know if it was your boyfriend's words or how deep he put his tongue in you, but in the next second your legs were shaking around his head, as you came on the hot tongue that kept sucking you. jeonghan didn't stop, he seemed willing to take everything from you, every drop, every tremor, everything.

he laughed when after a few seconds he moved up his body to kiss you, his chin completely wet and you didn't know if it was saliva or his cum.

"you need to prove yourself, love, look how delicious you are!" and then jeonghan kissed you.

and there you were, feeling your boyfriend's saliva mixed with your recent orgasm, and damn, that was delicious.

your breathing was finished, but you wanted more, you continued rubbing yourself against your boyfriend without any shame, missing something of him filling you.

"hey, calm down! we need to breathe..." he joked. “or do you want more? Of course you want it, you want my cock opening your pussy, right?”

"i want more, hannie! please!" you said slyly, still rubbing against your boyfriend.

"god, you're insane, my dirty little girl! do you want more? do you want hannie to fill that pussy?"

"please" you were dizzy, the recent orgasm was still having its effects on your body, but you wanted more, you needed it so much.

and jeonghan would never deny your request.

you watched jeonghan take off his pants and underwear, and you couldn’t help but widen your eyes when you saw the size of his cock, damn, that was big.

it scared you a little, but you still wanted it. jeonghan laughed when he saw your shocked face, taking something from the desk next to the bed: it was a tube of lubricant.

"it will help us." he chuckled as he spread it across the entire length. "i’m gonna fill you up now, doll!"

jeonghan entered slowly, kissing your neck and playing with your nipples as he put every inch inside you, it was a little painful, but nothing unbearable, fingering you and using lube helped a lot.

when jeonghan was finally inside you completely, he withdrew, entering again, and you heard him let out a grotesque moan. damn, you've never felt so horny in your life.

jeonghan continued thrusting, his walls squeezing you as you felt him opening you up more and more.

"fucking hot, damn, i can't believe i’m fucking you.”

you moaned, gripping your boyfriend's shoulders as he bit your neck and went deeper and deeper.

"i’m gonna to fill you up, i'm gonna leave your pussy leaking my cum. my pussy. you're mine. your pussy is mine." jeonghan was still careful, but he wasn't thinking very well, especially given the way he seemed to want to devour you if he could.

the sensation was completely new to you, your fingers and not even jeonghan's would give you that sensation, you felt him inside you, you felt the desire, the heat of his body, fuck, it was too much. you just moaned, begging him not to stop. he laughed.

"let me cum in you? let me cum in that pussy, please."

you just nodded, clouded with pleasure. jeonghan brought his thumb to your clitoris, giving you a new sensation that made your body shiver, and it didn't last long, the next minute you came again, screaming your boyfriend's name for all the neighbors to hear.

with the pressure your pussy exerted, jeonghan came right away, letting you feel the hot liquid paint all your walls white, damn, that felt so fucking good.

you took a breath, and a few minutes later jeonghan went to the kitchen to get you a glass of water

"are you ok? did you like it?" he asked you

"fuck, yes"

"good, because i still wanna fuck you in doggy style, and make you suck my cock!"

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

PR disaster

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this one-shot. Franco is one of my favourite drivers so it was time that I wrote something for him :)

From the moment Y/N was hired as Williams' new PR manager, she knew the job wouldn’t be easy, especially with Logan's departure. Managing a driver's exit was never simple, and controlling the public narrative seemed like her biggest concern. However, she quickly realized that her true challenge came in the form of Franco, the young talent who had taken Logan’s place in the team.

Franco wasn’t just an exceptional driver; he was a whirlwind of energy and charisma. For the fans and the press, he was a breath of fresh air, full of charm and wit. But for Y/N, he was a constant source of headaches. Whether he was flirting with journalists, posting cheeky comments on social media, or creating unnecessary drama, it always ended with her cleaning up the mess.

"Y/N, did you see his latest post?" One of her assistants burst into her office, waving a tablet in the air. Another post. Another reckless comment from Franco.

Y/N groaned. Of course, he couldn’t help himself. She had spent the last week trying to reign him in, explaining time and time again that his social media presence needed to be professional, not a flirt-fest with every reporter and fan that interacted with him.

"This needs to stop," she muttered to herself, standing up from her desk. She stormed through the paddock, her frustration building with every step.

When she found Franco lounging near the team garage, chatting up a group of reporters—no surprise there—she called his name sharply.

"Franco. A word." Her tone left no room for argument.

He flashed his signature grin, excusing himself from the conversation and strolling over to her. "Hey, jefa," he said casually, as if nothing was wrong. "What’s up?"

(Hey, boss)

“What’s up?” she repeated, her voice laced with exasperation. “You’re what’s up. I just had to deal with your latest ‘incident’ on social media—again.”

Franco shrugged, leaning against the wall with an easy confidence that only made her more irritated. "Ah, it was just a little fun. People like it when I’m myself."

Y/N crossed her arms. “Flirting with journalists isn’t being yourself, it’s being reckless. You need to tone it down. This is a professional environment, not… whatever you think it is.”

He raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanour never faltering. "¿Estás diciendo que no te gusta que sea encantador? No puedo evitarlo si soy irresistible." (¿Are you saying that you don't like that I'm charming? I can't help it if I'm irresistible.)

Y/N frowned, her Spanish rusty but enough to pick up on something. "What?"

Franco grinned wider, sensing an opportunity. "Nada, nada," he said, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know, maybe you should try smiling more. You’re always so… serious." He tilted his head, looking her up and down in a way that made her feel like he was studying her every reaction. "Me gusta más cuando te ríes… tienes una sonrisa preciosa, ¿sabes?" (Nothing, nothing) (I like it better when you laugh … you have a beautiful smile ¿you know?)

Her brow furrowed. Okay, that part she definitely understood, and it only made her more determined to get her point across. “This isn’t about me, Franco. This is about you being impossible to manage.”

He leaned closer, his tone dropping just slightly, enough to make her feel the warmth of his presence. "¿Imposible? No, jefa. Imposible sería si intentaras resistirte a mis encantos. Aunque… lo estás haciendo muy bien." (¿Impossible? No, boss. Impossible would be if you tried to resist my charm. Even… if you are doing it well)

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “What did you just say?”

Franco simply smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “You know, if you want me to be more ‘professional,’ we could… work out an agreement.”

“An agreement?” she asked, wary of where this was going.

He nodded, stepping just a little too close for comfort. “Sí. I’ll behave. No more trouble. But… on one condition.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “And what’s that?”

Franco’s grin turned almost predatory, though still playful. “You go on a date with me.”

Her jaw dropped. "A date?"

"Sí, una cita. You know, dinner, maybe some wine… you can lecture me all you want. But I think you’ll find I’m much better behaved when you get to know me… fuera del trabajo." (Yes, a date) (… out of work)

Y/N could feel her face heating up, partly from the absurdity of the situation and partly because Franco’s intense gaze was starting to get to her. “You’re joking.”

Franco tilted his head, eyes sparkling. “¿Parezco que estoy bromeando, jefa?” (¿Does it look like I'm joking, boss?)

Y/N stared at him, her mind racing. There was no way he could be serious. This was just another one of his games, another flirtatious comment that she needed to brush off. But as Franco stood there, grinning like the cat that got the cream, she realized he wasn’t backing down. His eyes were locked on hers, waiting, full of that infuriating confidence.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, turning on her heel to walk away. But as she took a step, Franco called after her.

"Well, I guess I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing then… Maybe tweet a little something extra for the fans later."

She froze, clenching her fists at her sides. This man was impossible. She could already picture the chaos his next social media stunt would cause. The endless calls, the damage control, the headaches…

Y/N spun back around to face him. “Fine,” she blurted out, her voice filled with frustration. “You want a date? You’ll get your stupid date. But only if you promise—promise—to behave.”

Franco’s grin widened, looking almost triumphant. "¡Perfecto! I knew you couldn’t resist." (¡Perfect!)

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms. “This isn’t about ‘resisting,’ it’s about making sure you don’t ruin the team’s reputation. One dinner, and you tone it all down.”

Franco nodded, still smiling like she’d just handed him the world on a silver platter. "You won’t regret it, jefa. I’ll be a perfect gentleman." (boss)

Y/N scoffed, turning away once more. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

As she began walking back to her office, she could hear Franco’s voice calling after her, his tone teasing and undeniably smug. "No te preocupes, jefa. I’ll be on my best behaviour… unless you want me to misbehave a little." (Don't worry boss.)

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small, almost begrudging smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Franco was trouble, and she knew it. But for some reason, as infuriating as he was, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of something… interesting.

Grumpy or not, she’d agreed to the date. And she had a feeling this was only the beginning of whatever madness Franco had in store for her.

Here's part 2

[luckykiwiii101]

😭😭😭 I ENTERED THE VOID STATE AND IT'S LITERALLY CHANGED MY WHOLE VOCAL CORDS!!! Like, WHOA. 😱 You guys don't even understand. Before all of this, I was a mess. Lemme tell you the full tea.

So like, I used to cry at night, scrolling through Tumblr, seeing everyone else manifesting their dream lives while I was stuck in the same old cycle. 😩 You KNOW the feeling! I even DELETED my Tumblr at one point because I was SO sick of seeing everyone else actually living their dreams, but then I would redownload it like the next day because I couldn't resist!! And then...the whole studying-for-exams thing? LOL don't even get me started. Like, I'd be like "I'll just enter the void state before my exams and manifest straight A's or whatever" (spoiler alert: I didn't.) I'm never really failed any subjects. At least not badly😬

I was starting to get frustrated, right? So then, one day, I was like OKAY, FINE. TIME TO ACTUALLY DO SOMETHING. And that's when I started SATS (State Akin To Sleep). It sounded crazy at first, but honestly, I was down to try anything! (Even while coping with my MADD. Yes I'm one of them. No I'm never getting rid of it.) So I started visualizing my dream life, and LET ME TELL YOU, I GOT SO DETAILED. I was in Velaris with Rhysand (I'm an ACOTAR fan), feeling his WINGS!!! I was literally touching them and just imagining how amazing it would feel to be surrounded by magic and beauty. And I wasn't even thinking about entering the void or anything. I was just feeling the vibezzz. Like, I know that it felt real, and that's what mattered.

Fast forward to a month and 3 weeks of doing SATS (Yes, I skipped some days, but WHO CARES? 😤). And guess what happened? I woke up today, and BOOM! I was in the void! Like, I didn’t even need to know how it happened, it just DID. I just said "Anything i say comes true exactly the way I want it." I said it over and over and over. Until I decided it was enough. Then I thought of leaving, and I was back in my room. Thank goodness I didn't think of leaving when I first entered, because this was literally like a lifetime opportunity I couldn't screw it up.

I actually had to safeguard myself, by saying "I am not impulsive". And the urge to say nonsense just disappeared ✨ That was the first thing I said when I woke up. So I wouldn't say any crazy shit. And so I was sitting there, ready to just start manifesting everything I ever wanted. I even started writing my script. maybe that was just an adrenaline rush.

But here’s the thing...GUYS, NOW THAT I’M HERE....in my room with this "ability"...I’m actually kinda missing my old self. Not the sad, desperate me, but the me who was SUPER EXCITED about just wandering around Velaris at night and dreaming of all this happening. Like, I actually miss that excitement. Looking through Pinterest and seeing the interior of a mansion, and be like "I'll be there soon", seeing pics of tasty food on instagram and saying "I'll eat that soon" I know it sounds crazy, but when you finally get everything you thought you wanted, it’s like...IDK...a little too perfect? 😬

Like, I know this sounds wild— and weird, but it’s TRUE. It's true for me right now. I'm gonna be blunt. The success story is not as exciting when you’re like actually living it, you know? Or maybe it's just me. Like, I’m just over here typing this at 4 AM, feeling kinda melancholic. And kinda (scared). Yes, I wanna enjoy my desires, but... I don't know. I don't want to get too curious and stray from Velaris trying to find out the secret behind ALL of this. For goodness sake, this is crazy!!! My voice is a genie!. It's already bugging me now. I know, I KNOW, this is probably not what you expected from a success story, but I’m being REAL.

I’ve written like 3 pages of my script so far, and I’m just gonna finish it tomorrow. No rush. Because honestly? Rhysand’s not going anywhere. 😉

And YOU can do this too. I know some of you might feel like “Oh, it’s impossible, I keep failing!” but like, just take a second and realize YOU'RE ALREADY GETTING CLOSER THAN YOU THINK. I was stuck too, and look where I am now. Don't look at the part where— I'm kinda ungrateful. But the part where I'm finally gonna meet Rhysand. YOU’RE SO CLOSE. It’s all coming together, trust me! 💖✨

But yeah, it’s 4 AM, I’m gonna go back to bed now, lol. Don’t let the void stress you out, okay? Take it easy. You’ve got this. ✨✌🏼

Also, love you kiwiii💖💖💖💖

SUCCESS STORY

XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GIRL | XOXO | GOSSIP GRL

First of all, I’m so happy for you and proud of you. You really put your foot down and gave yourself what you wanted.

I can understand what you mean when you say the success story isn’t exciting when you’re actually living it. But when it’s right in-front of you, it doesn’t feel like this out of reach thing you’ve put on a pedestal anymore. It’s just yours. And it feels normal.

But for some people, I think a big part of that came from the dopamine rush people would feel when they’d tell themselves that they’ll have it one day. And when they have it in the 3D, they just feel peaceful with it because there’s nothing to “chase” anymore.

I agree with most of what you said apart from “you’re so close”. With the law of assumption there is no process. You ARE the void. Anyway enjoy having your desires. I’m really happy for you!!😭 Love you too beautiful ♥️

[andikiramman]

your little girlfriend thinks i'm pretty

caitlyn x vi x maddie

word count: 5.7k

A/N: y'all i did it... but jsyk i started writing this before the finale so unfortunately this isn't the hate sex some of y'all were hoping for, but i mean if y'all really want it i wouldn't mind making it happen (◠‿◕)

MEN, MINORS, AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Ever since Vi became an Enforcer, she knew that there’d be those that wouldn’t want her there. Entitled Pilties that think she’s leeching off the head of the Kiramman household for whatever stupid reason they came up with. Honestly, she was okay with that. She spent her entire life being judged and discriminated against by Topsiders; at this point, she really couldn’t give less of a fuck.

However, even she had her limits.

Vi barged into Caitlyn’s office (being the only one in the entire precinct with enough audacity to do so), kicking the door shut and plopping down in one of the chairs in front of Cait’s desk. She was visibly fuming, her arms crossed tightly in front of her as her leg bounced with agitation. 

Even though she wasn't looking at her directly, Vi knew Cait was watching her, waiting for her to justify her behavior.

“Cupcake, I’ve had it up to here with your little girlfriend, okay?!” Vi sneered.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at that, sighing and dropping her pen onto the desk.

“Vi, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling her that? Maddie is not my girlfriend, you are!”

“Then can you please remind her so she can leave me the fuck alone?!”

Cait went silent for a moment as she took in Vi’s words.

“What do you mean by that? Has she been giving you problems?”

Vi scoffed. “Uh, yeah! I swear, ever since you broke things off with her, she keeps… staring at me!”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Staring…?”

“Yes, staring!” Vi repeated. “I swear, it’s like she has some sort of problem with me, or something!”

“And since when did you care if someone had a problem with you?” Cait frowned.

Vi prepared to say something, but she just sighed, rubbing her temple.

“Look, typically I really wouldn’t give a shit– I wouldn’t have even come to you if it were anyone else but, you know…”

Vi gave Caitlyn a genuine look, and she finally understood.

“Alright, I’ll… I’ll speak to Maddie myself, okay? I’ll see what’s going on.”

Vi nodded silently, standing up to leave. “Thanks, Cupcake.”

“Oh, and Vi?” Caitlyn called just before she left.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Vi smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing. “I love you too, Cupcake.”

Feeling a sense of relief, Vi opened the door, only for a body to come tumbling down from the other side.

Vi jumped back, her fists instinctively came up to shield her face, ready for a fight.

“What the- Maddie?!”

The junior officer brushed herself off, grabbing the beret that fell off her head and fixing it back on. “Oh, Vi… top o’ the morning…”

Cait silently observed in confusion, but at this point, Vi was enraged.

“Do you see what I mean?!” she shouted. “Why the fuck is she here?!”

Before Cait could offer an answer, Vi was picking up Maddie by her collar, the smaller woman’s feet dangling in the air as she yelped.

“What’s your fuckin’ problem with me, Nolen?” Vi questioned aggressively. “What is it about me that’s bothering you so damn much, huh?!”

Maddie spluttered, struggling to find an answer as she fought to find some sort of footing. 

“I don’t… I–”

At this point, Caitlyn was growing increasingly frustrated that she was being inhibited from completing her paperwork, so she decided to put an end to the shitshow immediately.

“That’s enough!”

Vi and Maddie both froze, turning their attention to the Sheriff.

“Vi, please put Junior Officer Nolen down, now.”

The redhead did just so, setting Maddie down gently (though she felt more inclined to just drop her).

“Maddie, close my door.”

Maddie gulped, wordlessly turning and closing the door to Caitlyn’s office.

“Now,” the sheriff sighed, clasping her hands together, “from what I understand, there seems to be some sort of dispute between the two of you.”

Maddie furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t have any problem with–”

“Yeah fuckin’ right!” Vi interrupted with a scoff. “Ever since Cait dumped you you’ve been eyeing me like I got something that belongs to you!”

Maddie blinked a few times, her cheeks starting to redden in a blush.

“I… I have?”

Vi rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit, Nolen. Every time I happen to glance your way, you’re staring right at me!”

Maddie averted her gaze as she began nervously playing with her fingers. “Oh…”

“Oh, so you’re not even gonna deny it?” Vi sneered, marching right up to Maddie and harshly grabbing her cheeks to turn her face back towards her. “What’s your fucking deal, Nolen?”

Maddie gasped, her blush spreading to the rest of her face. She gulped, seemingly steeling her resolve, before opening her mouth to speak.

“You’re pretty…”

A beat of silence.

“W-What…?”

Maddie took a deep breath in to cool herself down.

“I-I have to admit Vi… at first, I was kind of jealous of you. I guess at first, I really was glaring at you.”

Vi finally let go, taking a step back and raising her eyebrow. “But…?”

“But,” Maddie spoke again, fiddling with the edge of her shirt, “the more I watched you, the more I found myself becoming… attracted to you.”

Caitlyn was still eerily silent. She’d never imagined the scenario before her ever happening but she wasn��t going to complain about it, either. If she played her cards right…

“A-Attracted… to me?” Vi rasped out in shock. Her breathing became heavy, and she couldn’t tell whether it was from anger or anticipation.

Maddie nodded. “You… you’re very pretty, Vi. I never considered you to be my type but–” she turned to Caitlyn– “I see the appeal.”

Caitlyn said nothing as she looked between Maddie and Vi, letting her girlfriend attempt to handle this situation on her own.

After being paralyzed with shock, Vi finally let out a scoff, which turned into a chuckle. She stuck her hands in her pocket, slowly making her way over to Caitlyn’s chair.

“You hear that, Cupcake? Your little girlfriend thinks I’m pretty…”

Caitlyn side-eyed her, waiting for the redhead to continue.

“…So much so that she couldn’t keep her eyes off me for months. To top it all off, she even followed me to your office, for who knows why.”

Maddie gulped, keeping her eyes glued to the floor in front of her. She gasped when her chin was suddenly forced upwards, being met with Vi’s cloudy grey eyes.

“So now what, Nolen?” Vi muttered huskily. “You told us exactly how you feel, n’ you got us both right where you want us, so what now?”

Maddie’s breath quickened, her eyes dropping to Vi’s lips for a brief second before returning her gaze.

“I… I think this is something we could maybe talk about another time…?”

Before Vi could answer, Caitlyn stood, cutting the conversation short.

“You know what? Officer Nolen is right,” she announced. “Do keep in mind we are still on the clock.”

This time, Caitlyn allowed herself a slight smirk, turning her attention to Maddie.

“Maddie, why don’t you come pay us a visit tomorrow?” The taller woman offered. “I feel the relaxed environment would be more suitable for this sort of dilemma… how does that sound?”

Maddie, visibly stunned, stuttered for a moment, before finally finding a response.

“Uh… y-yeah, sure.”

🢝 🢝 🢝 🢝

“O-Oh fuck… Vi…”

The redhead simply hummed in response, her mouth occupied on Maddie’s neck. She alternated between kissing, biting, and sucking, anything to elicit those cute little sounds she’s been making since Vi got her hands on her. Vi’s hands in question were roaming Maddie’s body, shamelessly groping her ass as she pulled her ever closer.

The warmth building up within Maddie’s body was starting to grow unbearable, despite the slightly revealing spaghetti strap dress she currently had on (she had to admit, though she’d have no problems with simply coming over to talk, she prayed that her visit would lead to something a bit more… physical).

“Sure you don’t wanna join in, Cupcake?” Vi asked Caitlyn from the crook of Maddie’s neck. “I'm sure our little guest would enjoy her visit more if we both showed her a bit of hospitality…”

Oh my god, yes please! Maddie begged in her mind.

Caitlyn was currently seated on a chair efficiently placed in front of the bed, which happened to offer a splendid view of the two women making out on the mattress before her. She took a sip from the cup of tea she poured herself, humming at the sweet taste of organic raspberry leaf.

“I’m quite alright at the moment,” she respectfully declined, “I believe the two of you should spend some time working out your differences first. Though, I may feel more inclined to join a bit later on.”

Vi only shrugged before bringing her attention back to Maddie. She grabbed the smaller woman’s neck, pulling her in for a nasty kiss full of tongue. She swirled the muscle around Maddie’s own for a few seconds before pulling away, a string of saliva stretching out between their lips. 

“Why don’t you take this off for me, sweetheart?” Vi muttered as she tugged at Maddie’s dress.

Maddie nodded, wordlessly tugging her dress off of her body and tossing it to another part of the room. She nervously bit her lip when she noticed Vi’s teasing stare.

“Lace?” she questioned. “Oh, you really came here hoping to get fucked, huh?”

Maddie shrugged. “Guess there isn’t a point in denying it anymore, is there?”

The younger woman grabbed Vi’s face, pulling her in for another kiss as they fell back on the mattress. Vi growled into Maddie’s mouth, rough hands coming up to harshly palm at her breasts. A whimper turned into a gasp as black lace was torn apart, dusty pink nipples hardening as they were exposed to the cool air.

“Vi!”

Vi hummed as she kissed a trail down Maddie’s chest, the tip of her nose following the trail her lips left.

“Sorry, ‘m getting a bit impatient.”

Maddie let out a curse as she felt the wet warmth of Vi’s tongue envelop a nipple, her back arching off the bed as her legs wrapped around Vi’s waist.

“Fuck, so am I… just fuck me already…”

Vi scoffed, and Caitlyn simply offered an amused huff.

“Don’t think you can boss me around just ‘cause you’re getting what you want,” the muscled woman grumbled, punctuating her warning with a bite to Maddie’s breast.

Maddie yelped, her body flinching from the pain. Still, that didn’t stop her audacious behavior.

“What I want is for you to stop fucking talking so much and just eat me out or something!”

At that, Vi pulled away, sitting back on her heels as she glared at the ginger in front of her. Maddie, realizing she was a bit out of line, shrunk in on herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.

“P-Please…?”

Vi squared her jaw, before shaking her head and sighing. “Y’know, I see why Cait likes you so much,” she mused as she tugged Maddie’s black panties down her legs. She had half a mind to shove them into Maddie’s mouth, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she grabbed Maddie’s thighs to pull her closer before holding her by the back of her knees to keep her legs spread open.

“It’ll be fun to get you off that damned high horse of yours.”

That was all that was said before Vi finally dove into her, her tongue tasting all that Maddie had to offer. She groaned as her tongue delved into Maddie’s hole, relishing in the sweet essence that was her arousal. And fuck, was there so much of it, the anticipation building up over the last two days keeping the woman soaked. Vi ate Maddie out like she was her last meal, her strong hands keeping Maddie’s legs firmly tucked against her chest.

Maddie, on the other hand, was absolutely losing her mind. She’s dreamed of this. Touched herself to the thought of this. Nothing, absolutely none of it, could’ve actually prepared her for the real thing. Vi was inexplicably good at giving head. Every time Vi decided to slip her tongue into her pussy, her nose nudged her clit, sending a hot jolt down her spine that had her thrusting her hips into Vi’s mouth. And when Vi decided to finally give attention to her aching clit— holy shit, it was like Maddie’s third eye opened, the pleasure alone had her feeling on top of the world. She kept one hand tangled in Vi’s hair and the other bunched in her own, sweet cries of pure bliss escaping her slacked jaw and spit-covered lips.

“Oh my– o-oh my god, fuck… Vi!”

Vi only responded with a whine of her own; she was clearly enjoying herself down there, eating Maddie simply for her own pleasure and nothing else.

Cait quietly watched the scene before her, one leg crossed over the other as she began pouring herself another cup of tea and adding a spoonful of sugar. Her scrutinizing blue eyes traced the curves of the women’s bodies, especially zeroing in on where Vi’s mouth moved diligently against Maddie’s core. It was as though she had front row seats to her own private show, everything on such clear display for her viewing pleasure. She couldn’t tell whether the warmth sizzling inside of her was from the tea or the two women making a mess on her bedsheets, but what she did know is that she’d feel the need to join them very soon. She pried her eyes away from the main event for just a moment to examine Maddie’s face. Her fucked out expression, her scrunched eyebrows, her eyes that were squeezed shut, the staccato breaths that left her lips… Maddie was going to cum, and very soon.

“Vi… Vi, please I’m so close… I’m, I– oh, ohfuck!”

Maddie clawed at the bedsheets as her orgasm rushed through her, her entire body quivering with the white-hot rush of ecstasy. Vi didn’t stop, though. She didn’t even slow down her ministrations against Maddie’s cunt. She ignored the sporadic twitching of her hips, Maddie’s whines from overstimulation, and even her unsuccessful attempts at closing her legs against Vi’s strong hands.

Maddie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as both of her hands tangled themselves in Vi’s hair. Her back arched with each insistent swipe of Vi’s tongue.

“Oh my– Vi, shit… Vi, I already, mmph oh my fucking–”

Maddie went tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one knocking the wind out of her. Yet, Vi didn’t stop, nor did she show any signs of stopping. The stimulation was bordering on overbearing at this point, and Maddie turned her head to Caitlyn in hopes that she could talk Vi out from between her legs.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear,” Caitlyn apologized, despite the obvious lack of sympathy in her voice, “Vi’s enjoying herself so much that I don’t believe she plans on stopping anytime soon.”

And Caitlyn could not have been more right in that moment. One, two, three orgasms later, and Vi was still devouring Maddie from the inside out. At this point, Maddie was barely present, her entire body going slack on the bed. Her eyes couldn’t even focus, and all she could muster at this point were pitiful whimpers.

“No…” she whined weakly. “Vi…”

Caitlyn let out an amused hum, grabbing her teapot in hopes to pour another cup of tea, only to find that it was completely empty. She tsked in annoyance, finally standing from her seat.

“Vi, be nice.”

At the sound of Cait’s authoritative voice, Vi finally lifted herself up from between Maddie’s legs.

“Just look at the poor thing,” Cait mumbled, “I fear you may have broken her.”

Vi put Maddie’s legs down, and the ginger woman immediately took the chance to squeeze them shut, whimpering a small fuck as she did so.

“‘S not my fault,” Vi grunted, “she was getting arrogant.”

“Oh yeah?” Cait challenged as she began stripping down herself, until she was left in just a camisole and panties. Her pebbled nipples poked through the sheer fabric, and Vi couldn’t help but lick her lips at the sight. Her eyes moved down, taking in the entirety of Cait’s lithe figure: her long legs, her gentle curves, and a face with looks that could kill.

Damn, how did she manage to get so lucky?

It was seductive, the way Caitlyn’s hips rocked as she stalked over to Vi. She cradled her girlfriend’s cheek before going in for a kiss, sweet yet deep and full of passion. Once they pulled away, Cait bit her lip, looking Vi’s up and down.

“Go get the strap, love,” she commanded softly.

At that request, Vi’s cheeks reddened in a blush. “You’re gonna let me…?”

Cair raised an eyebrow at Vi’s implication. “I believe you’re mistaken, dear. I plan on folding you up just like you had our friend here,” she clarified with a motion towards Maddie, who was laying with an arm slung over her eyes.

“Now hurry up and go get it,” Cait reiterated. “I’m feeling a bit… energized. In the meantime, I’ll make sure she’s comfortable.”

Vi nodded rapidly as she stuttered out an affirmative. She was quick to scurry off the bed, going into their large walk-in closet in search of the toy and harness.

In the meantime, Cait made her way over to Maddie, signaling her presence with a soft brush of her hand.

“You okay, honey?” she hummed.

Maddie groaned, her arm falling away from her face.

“Vi is fucking insane…”

Caitlyn chuckled. “Vi’s a munch,” she corrected. “You were doomed from the second you told her to eat you out. Go on and get comfortable on the pillows, you can rejoin when you’re ready.”

With a grunt, Maddie moved herself up to settle on the mountain of pillows. Today was going to be a long day…

Vi came back just seconds later, the jet black toy in one hand, a harness and bottle of lube in the other.

“Good girl,” Caitlyn praised, taking the items from Vi and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I want you on your back.”

“Yes ma’am,” Vi replied, finding her place on the bed and resting back on her elbows. She could feel Maddie’s eyes on her, probably admiring her physique. She ignored her, instead focusing on Cait tightening the harness on her hips and strapping up.

When Cait finally turned her attention to her, Vi’s throat immediately went dry. The sight of the strap-on sitting perfectly on her hips had her body firing up from the inside out. Cait mounted the bed, crawling towards Vi until she was in between her spread legs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Caitlyn muttered sensually, “all ready for me…”

Vi swallowed the lump in her throat, but all that came out was a strained whimper. Cait grabbed Vi’s calves and placed them on her shoulders, leaning in closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Vi let out a gasp as she felt the tip of the dildo run through her folds, and Cait hummed in response.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, Vi… Maddie’s got you all riled up, doesn’t she?”

Vi’s ears blushed a deep shade of red, and she turned away from Cait’s lingering stare. Cait bit her lip at Vi’s sudden shyness, deciding to tease her by grinding her hips forward. Vi squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth falling open at the toy catching against her clit.

“Fuck… Cait, please…”

Caitlyn smirked. “Fine, but only because you asked so nicely.”

Cait pushed her hips forward again, and this time the dildo went inside, stretching Vi out with each inch that gradually slipped into her.

“H-Holy shit, Cupcake,” Vi whimpered once it was all the way in. The position Cait had her in had the dildo reaching so fucking deep, it was like she could feel it in her stomach.

Caitlyn slowly pulled back a few inches, before snapping her hips forward again. Vi cried out in response, rough hands coming up to grab Cait’s shoulders.

“Please! Holy fuck, Cait, I need you to fuck me please!” she whined in desperation.

Caitlyn chuckled. “Gods, I love when you beg for me, Vi…”

Cait decided to give Vi exactly what she wanted, setting a brutal pace with the strap and being sure to bury herself to the hilt each time. She knew she was fucking Vi good, too, the redhead’s eyes glazing over as sweet whimpers and gasps escaped her lips. Fuck, what Cait would give to be able to feel Vi’s pussy in this moment. She’d stay here forever, just buried in Vi’s warmth.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so damn good, Vi,” Cait growled huskily as she roughly grabbed Vi’s face. Vi’s eyes finally focused (barely), and she keened at the sight of Cait above her.

“Mmh, shit, Cait you’re– oh fuck– you’re in my stomach,” Vi slurred in between loud moans.

“Is that right?” Cait teased. “This pussy can get so fuckin’ deep, huh?”

Vi nodded rapidly. “Mmh, yeah…”

Meanwhile, Maddie watched the scene before her like a hawk. Vi and Caitlyn… it was so rough, yet so intimate. She never thought Vi would be the type to beg, nor be the one to let someone pin her down and strap her the way she was, but since it was Caitlyn, she guessed that anything was possible. She had to admit, even though she wasn’t currently included, the two of them fucking like this was so hot. She swallowed, bringing a hand down to rub light circles against her clit. Her hips twitched; she was still a bit sensitive, but growing more aroused the longer she observed the couple in front of her. She used her other hand to pinch a nipple, rolling the rosy bud between her fingers at the same time. She let out a soft whine, the light pleasure she was giving herself had her rolling her hips against her hand. Shit, I wanna get fucked like that…

“Open your fucking mouth,” Caitlyn growled, and Vi did just so, allowing the taller woman to spit onto her tongue. Vi swallowed, opening her mouth again to show off her obedience.

“Good girl,” Cait muttered, leaning down to rest her forehead against Vi’s as she fucked her harder and faster.

“Ooh– oh Cait, Cait, Cait, fuck!”

Caitlyn groaned, her warm breath fanning Vi’s lips, not daring to stop her brutal pace for even for a second. 

“A-Ah, Caaaait, Cait, I’m so close, I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Vi screamed. Just seconds later, she was cumming, her strong legs locking Caitlyn in place as the rest of her body shivered violently with her release. After a few moments, Cait finally slowed down, leaning back and letting Vi’s legs drop to the bed below her.

“Fuck, you did such a good job,” Cait praised, pulling out of Vi to reveal the slicked up toy, drenched in Vi’s arousal. “You took me so well.”

Vi sniffled as she came down from her high. “T-Thank you…”

Caitlyn smiled down at her, so genuine and loving, before turning her attention to Maddie.

“You. Come here.”

Maddie, taken aback at the sudden shift, was stuck in place for a moment. The way Caitlyn watched her, one hand on her breast, the other in between her legs, she suddenly felt so… exposed.

“I don’t have all day, you know.”

At that, Maddie scrambled forward, until she was face to face with the Sheriff herself. Caitlyn grabbed her, kissing her in a similar fashion to the way Vi did earlier. It was nasty, sloppy, and full of tongue. To top it all off, Caitlyn started sucking on Maddie’s tongue, making the younger woman shiver with arousal. Before she could get too comfortable, however, Caitlyn pulled away. This time, she grabbed her roughly, positioning Maddie on her hands and knees right on top of Vi. Maddie gasped, now right in between the two, her heart was pounding at a mile a minute. She felt hands on her waist, which caused her to jump a little, before hearing snickering coming from below her.

“What’s wrong? You’re so jittery all of a sudden,” Vi teased. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Mads? Both of us…?”

Maddie gulped, letting Vi wrap her hand around her neck and pull her down for a kiss. It was slow, sensual, missing all the roughness from earlier. She could feel Caitlyn touching her, her slender fingers dipping in between her legs and inside of her. Maddie moaned against Vi’s lips, rocking her hips in tandem with Cait’s fingers. Vi’s free hand was aimlessly roaming her body, feeling the goosebumps along her back, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her ass. She could easily get lost in this letting the two women touch and play with her body however they pleased.

Then, she felt Caitlyn’s fingers leave her, only to be replaced by something much thicker. She gasped, turning around to look at Cait.

“Caitlyn…”

“I know how you are, Maddie,” Cait warned. “Don’t bother trying to run.”

With that, Caitlyn slowly pushed in, stretching Maddie out on the toy. Though it was well lubricated with Vi’s own release, it was still a tight fit.

“Oh my god!” Maddie cried. “Caitlyn, that’s too big!”

She tried lifting her hips forward to alleviate the pressure, but Vi was quick to stop her, using her strength to keep her in place.

“Didn’t she just say not to run?” Vi muttered. “Gonna disobey the sheriff?”

Before Maddie could muster a reply, Caitlyn was pushing forward again, gripping Maddie’s hips tightly to make sure she didn’t try moving. Maddie’s jaw dropped, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she was stretched to the limit. Her head was spinning; the toy was hitting every spot inside of her. When Cait finally bottomed out, Maddie felt a shiver run up her spine, tears welling in the corners of her eyes from the stretch.

“Aw, don’t cry,” Vi taunted. “You’re taking it so well, Mads.”

Maddie whined, sharp nails digging into Vi’s broad shoulders as Caitlyn started a slow pace, sheathing herself completely with each deep thrust. Maddie couldn’t help but try to pull away each time the tip kissed her cervix, but Caitlyn made sure to keep her in place so she wouldn’t go too far.

“Fuck,” Caitlyn groaned from behind her. She could see everything from her angle: Maddie’s walls fluttering around her cock as she tried to accommodate the size, strings of Maddie’s arousal stretching out between her pussy and Cait’s hips each time she pulled out, Vi tangling a hand in Maddie’s hair as the pair in front of her sloppily made out, one of Maddie’s own hands slipping between Vi’s legs to play with her clit; the straps of the harness rubbing oh so well against her clit wasn’t making her situation any better. Shit, if she didn’t make Maddie cum before she did, she wouldn’t be able to fuck her the way she’d liked.

Caitlyn quickened her pace, fucking Maddie with short and deep thrusts that had the sound of skin slapping together echoing throughout the room. Her nails dug into Maddie’s waist, pulling the woman’s hips back to meet her with each push forward.

Maddie pulled away from Vi’s lips to look back at Cait.

“Fuck… Caitlyn you’re so deep…”

“Takin’ her like a fuckin’ champ,” Vi replied before Cait could, grabbing Maddie’s hair and pulling her back to her lips.

Caitlyn huffed, breaking her gaze away from the two women to focus on the strap fucking into Maddie. She was dripping onto the sheets at this point, and the dildo had a white ring around it.

“Damn it,” she grunted under her breath. She slowed her pace down, giving herself a chance to come down before she reached her peak too soon. 

Maddie whined against Vi’s lips, pushing her hips back as a wordless plea for more. Cait smacked her ass in reply, causing the ginger to yelp.

“You really are an impatient one, aren’t you?” Cait grumbled. “If you want to finish this prematurely, just say the word. I can grant you that request.”

Vi chuckled, pulling Maddie away from their kiss.

“Aw, you’re being so hard on her, Cupcake.” Vi grinned as she took in Maddie’s expression, heavy with unabashed desire, lips wet and bruised from their harsh kissing. “You’re fucking her so good, and she just wants more, isn’t that right, Mads?”

Maddie nodded, a strained sigh escaping her lips.

“Mmh, I can give you that… say aah…”

Vi slipped two fingers deep into Maddie’s mouth, biting her lip when she gagged on them. Vi didn’t leave them in there for long, pulling her fingers out and smirking when a string of saliva stretched out from her lips. Then, she slipped her hand down Maddie’s back and right in between her ass cheeks, using one of her fingers to circle the place Maddie’s never been touched before. Maddie gasped into the crook of Vi’s neck, whimpering as the redhead’s finger continued rimming her ass.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Vi smirked. “Wonder if you’d even let me put it inside…?”

It was only a taunt, a teasing suggestion, but the way Maddie reacted to the possibility of having a finger in her ass turned it into a reality.

“Please,” she begged. “P-Put it in, Vi, please!”

Vi scoffed. “You’re something else, you know that, Nolen?”

Cait leaned forward just a bit, letting a dribble of spit fall right onto Maddie’s pucker. Vi teasingly pressed her middle finger against her, until Maddie pushed her hips back once more, showing that she really did want this.

Vi didn’t make her wait any longer, slowly pushing her middle finger into Maddie’s ass, right down to the knuckle. Maddie keened, her nails digging into Vi’s shoulders. At the same time, Cait gradually picked up her pace, fucking her pussy while Vi fingerfucked her ass.

Fuck, Maddie was on Cloud 9 right now. She couldn’t even think straight, the dual stimulation making her absolutely melt from pleasure. She was letting out incoherent babbles into Vi’s shoulder, completely unable to form full sentences. Suddenly, she felt a harsh hand tangle in her hair, and she was being pulled upwards. She had to hold herself up with her own hands, whimpering at the stinging sensation on her scalp. It was Cait’s hand, using her grip on Maddie’s hair to fuck her harder, deeper.

“I can’t believe one of my own subordinates turned out to be such a slut,” she huffed. “Letting Vi stick her finger in your ass? Needing both of us to satisfy you? You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?”

Maddie couldn’t even reply, each thrust of Cait’s dick and Vi’s finger knocking the wind out of her.

“Just look at her, Cupcake, she’s fucking addicted,” Vi added, “won’t be surprised if she starts following us around like some lost puppy.”

Maddie should’ve felt insulted, she really should’ve… but the couple was right. Her tryst with Caitlyn was quite enjoyable while it lasted, but having both of them… ‘fucking amazing’ couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Vi’s free hand snaked between Maddie’s legs to play with her clit, and it was over for her.

“Haa… I-I’m gonna cum!”

Maddie’s orgasm was powerful, so much so that she ended up squirting and soaking the bed sheets (and Vi) with her release. She trembled violently, wave after wave of aftershocks had her body pulsating. Caitlyn let go of her hair, and Maddie slumped against Vi’s chest, eyes squeezed shut as she attempted to catch her breath. Vi slipped her finger out, using both hands to massage Maddie’s waist.

Caitlyn, however, was not finished. After staving off her own orgasm for so long, she was right at the edge of release. She leaned over Maddie, grinding against her ass despite her weak whines of protest.

“Just take it Mads,” Vi shushed, “Let her cum first, she’s almost there.”

Maddie started to sob from overstimulation, one of her hands reaching back to grasp onto Caitlyn’s leg. Cait ignored her, squeezing her eyes shut as she only focused on getting herself over the edge. Her hips stuttered the closer she got, and she lost her rhythm, but soon she was groaning with bliss, her orgasm washing over her. She fucked herself through her orgasm until she physically couldn’t take it anymore, and she pulled the dildo out of Maddie with a slick ‘pop!’

Maddie slumped forward, dropping her hips to rest her entire weight on Vi. Caitlyn, on the other hand, slumped onto the mattress, silently catching her breath. 

“Well, that was fun…” Vi finally spoke after a while.

Caitlyn hummed, her lips forming into a tired smile. “Certainly…”

“What about you, Mads?” Vi asked the woman on her chest, only to be met with silence.

“Maddie…?”

Nothing but soft snores left Maddie’s lips, and Vi let out a soft chuckle. 

“Well, what do you know, we fucked her right to sleep.”

Caitlyn lifted herself up onto her elbow, resting her head in her hand. “I’m glad she enjoyed herself.”

Very gently, Vi turned to lay Maddie on the bed, before standing up. She put a hand out to Cat, who took it to stand as well. She helped Caitlyn take off the strap-on, even though she could very well remove it on her own.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

As their legs were still feeling the effects of their long fuck session, even the short walk to the bathroom had the couple walking funny.

“To be honest, I’m glad we did this,” Vi said as she turned on the warm water. “But y’know… really is a shame I didn’t get to eat you out myself…”

Cait was silent for a moment, her heart beating loudly in her chest at the flagrant suggestion. With a sigh, she poked her head out of the bathroom door, noting that Maddie was still fast asleep, before shutting the two of them in.

“Make sure you don’t wake her up,” Cait muttered, as Vi was already descending to her knees.

“Well, that’s all up to you, now isn’t it?”

okay so what did y'all think...? was it bonita?

[virginiathegray]

Lucanis X Flirtatious Purple Rook is so delicious and it "solves" all the "problems" (in quotes bc personally i love his romance regardless) people have with it. In this essay I will--

*spoilers for Veilguard below the cut*

Walk with me:

Lucanis seeing Rook flirting with the team, always joking and playing around, rarely serious. Lucanis not knowing how to respond when those flirtations are directed his way, so he brushes them off or outright ignores them (while internally blushing bc he's flustered)

Rook, regardless of whether they were genuine in their interest before, seeing that Lucanis is the only one who doesn't seem disarmed by their flirting and redoubling their efforts

Lucanis lowkey getting frustrated because he's got real feelings for Rook but he can't fathom that the interest is returned beyond these superficial winks and nudges

(Not to mention I firmly believe Lucanis is constantly assuming his feelings for Rook are just Spite's obsession with Rook trickling into his own perception of reality but that's a post for another time)

Lucanis finally calling Rook's "bluff" after Spite takes him over the second time, making a move on them while fully expecting them to back down and laugh it off

"This isn't a good idea." Am I talking to you or to myself? "You like to walk a little too close to the edge." You might be playing a game here, but I'm not. "At least I know I'm doing it." I know what I'm risking with these feelings, but do you?

But Rook DOESN'T back down. They're not bluffing. So he freaks out, pulls back, runs off.

Now Lucanis is the one reckoning with the idea that, uh, maybe Rook wasn't joking?? His relatively sparse romantic content in Act 2 fits, because in many ways he's having to figure out how Rook actually feels and how his feelings do or don't change as a result of that (not to mention all the family drama he's going through simultaneously)

Story continues, Lucanis realizing that Rook actually cares about him, reflected in the flirtation options being more tender and less flippant/suggestive. Rook being there for him in his darkest moments, pulling him from the prison in his own mind, etc

Fade prison happens. Lucanis agonizing for WEEKS thinking he's lost this person who brightened his life, feeling like he failed them. Then they get them out, and in the purple option there, Rook jokes again. They're trying to hold it together, but there's this little glance down, their smile falls just a bit, the mask of this unserious jokester dropping for a moment. And this time, Lucanis clocks it immediately.

"Impossible," he calls them, because despite everything, they're still trying to make him feel better, to pretend they aren't scared, that they aren't as devastated as they are. But they understand each other now, and Lucanis kisses them as this silent confirmation that he sees them, that Rook is loved, safe, here.

From that point on, Lucanis is so protective it hurts. He knows Rook is capable and strong, but he sees right past this unserious mask they wear now and knows how scared they are. He's going to war for them, and when he says he'll kill every god if it means they'll be safe, he means it.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Take Care of Me

Eddie Munson x inexperienced!fem!reader

summary: Eddie decides to tease you in the bedroom when he knows that you're needy. Little does he know that you also have a few tricks up your sleeve.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v), unprotected sex (wrap it before your smack it) masturbation (both f and m), touch denial, voyeurism, oral (m receiving) bondage, dom!eddie, dom!reader

part one part two part four

You had been extra needy ever since you and Eddie started sleeping together. You had been in between your sheets almost every night, but then work got busy for him and he was working late so it had been hard for him to come see you. So you had gone almost a week without him and you were starting to get desperate.

You had been using your vibrator like it was your job and had thought about sleeping with other people, but it wouldn't have been the same. Eddie had made it clear that you weren't exclusive and that you could do whatever you wanted, but it was hard to sleep with anyone else when he was just so good at what he did no matter what it was.

So, everything just came to a complete stop as you had waited for him to become available, staring at your phone screen to see if you had even gotta a text. When you didn't, you'd just lie in bed, pleasuring yourself, pretending that your fingers were Eddie's even though they didn't compare. you could get yourself there, but nearly as quick and it wasn't as fun doing it alone.

So one night you just texted him, getting so desperate that you felt like you were going to explode. You needed him and you needed him right then.

I need you so bad daddy

The message was sent in an instant as your need outweighed your usual nerves when it came to talking to Eddie. And he had replied immediately, your face lighting up when you saw he had responded, but your smile quickly faded once you saw what he had replied.

How bad?

He was such an ass sometimes, but you would have been lying if you said you didn't like it. All of the teasing was so exciting and new since Steve always gave you whatever you asked for on a silver platter.

Do you want me to send you a picture of how wet I am?

You were now growing frustrated with him, always seeming to walk right into his trap.

wow you really are needy

another text

keep your pants on alright I'm on my way

He seemed to have shown up at your door in record seep, knocking on it feverishly and you ripped it open, pulling him inside before pushing him onto the bed before crawling on top of him. Shit, you really were needy.

"Uh uh uh," he tisked as he held you at arms length, seeing your eyes getting hungry with desire. If he was going to fuck you, he was at least going to have some fun first.

“Gotta beg for me, baby,” he told you, a smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Beg?” You scoffed, climbing off of him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not begging.”

“Then I guess I’m just gonna have to show you what you’re missing.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of fuzzy handcuffs you had remembered seeing in his room. He unlocked them with his key then snapped, pointing to the bed.

“Bed,” he demanded and you felt a thrill rush through you as you followed his command. You lied flat on the mattress and Eddie moved to straddle your waist so you couldn’t go anywhere and raised your wrists above your head, pinning them to your headboard before locking them in place so you couldn’t go anywhere.

“You’re going to watch me get myself off and I want to hear you beg for me like your life depends on it, understand?”

“Yes,” you nodded, but Eddie didn’t seem to like your response.

“Yes what?” You immediately realized your mistake and knew you needed to fix it.

“Yes daddy,” you corrected and Eddie smiled down at you, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

“Good girl,” he responded before pressing his lips to yours. He then got off of you before moving to stand in front of your dresser that was right across from your bedside table so that you could see him perfectly.

He slowly removed all of his clothes as if he was performing a strip tease and you already found yourself to be filled with nothing but want. Knowing that you couldn’t have him drove you crazy, but you knew that the end would be so worth it.

His boxers were the last to go and he let them fall to the floor on top of his other clothes that were in a messy pile. As he reached for the lube bottle that was at the edge of the bed, you took your time to let your eyes rake over his body, still wondering how you were always able to get someone as hot as him into bed with you.

He sat on the edge of the bed so he was out of view and brought his lubed up hand up to his cock, giving it a few slow pumps, making sure to let out some dramatic moans. He chuckled to himself as he heard you attempt to get free.

“Easy there, baby. I’m just getting started.” His movements picked up as he pumped even faster, real moans falling from his mouth this time. His head fell back and you could see his eyes shutting tight as he got himself off.

“Eddie please,” you whined, wanting to finish the job for him, but it proved to be not that easy. He just shushed you then had the audacity to stand up from the bed, placing himself in your desk chair, wanting to give you a full view of what you were missing.

“Gonna need a little more from you. I don’t think you want it enough.”

“I want it. Want you so bad, daddy.”

“Just a little more,” he responded as he gave himself a few more quick pumps, already feeling like he was reaching his peak.

“Wanna suck you off so bad. My mouth is watering just look at you.” And it was. You could feel saliva pooling in your mouth at the thought of finally tasting him for yourself.

And watching him get himself off seemed to make you want him even more. He was so hot sitting there jacking off, his loud moans filling your ears. The whole thing was definitely going to be living in your head rent free.

That seemed to do the trick because Eddie had finally reached his orgasm. You felt yourself getting wet at the sight and you were almost satisfied just watching him, but your need to have your way with him outweighed it.

His cock leaked with cum and you were now drooling, thinking about licking up every last drop and swallowing it down like you had been wanting to for so long.

“Alright,” he sighed once he had come down from his orgasm. He then grabbed the key from his pants and unlocked the handcuffs, freeing you.

He took you by the hands then pulled you over to the edge of the bed, sitting down on it while he forced you down onto your knees, loving how your eyes were filling with lust.

“Since you were so good. I think you deserve a treat.” He spread his legs wide and you couldn’t help but let your gaze move to his rock hard cock, cum smeared all over the head. “Go ahead,” he nodded his head towards it. You earned.”

You slowly moved towards him as he leaned back onto the bed with the palms of his hands, looking down at you knowingly. You had only given a few blowjobs in your lifetime so you weren’t exactly sure what to do, but you hoped that Eddie would have helped you if you did it wrong.

You wrapped one of your hands around the base and slowly inched the head towards your mouth, slipping it inside and letting your tongue swirl around it to get used to it. Eddie let out a gasp which was followed by another as you began to suck hard, trying to focus on what you remembered from doing it to other guys.

“Jesus, relax,” Eddie laughed. “God, you really did want me, huh?”

All you could do was nod as you licked and sucked on the head, finally getting comfortable and confident in what you were doing. And Eddie seemed to enjoy us as another moan fell from his lips. You glanced up at him and his eyes you were closed as he hummed in pleasure.

“Think you can take more of me?” He asked. “Bet it could all fit if you tried.” You weren’t sure, but you thought you could at least trying.

So you took a little more of him inch by inch as you continued to lick and suck on his cock, wanting to make sure that none of it went untouched by your tongue.

“That’s a good girl,” he cooed. “Just like that. Yep, just a little more.” You hadn’t even realized that you had gotten it all in until you were practically gagging on it, your nose practically brushing the hair right above the base.

You continued to lick and suck on him as he as he grabbed onto the back of your head, pushing his cock in and out of your mouth as you tried to keep up with him. He was close. You could see it as he eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head.

“So this is the only way to keep you quiet, hm?” He asked. “Gotta fuck your mouth like this so you’ll stop being such a whiny brat.” And soon after that, he moaned so loudly that you were sure that your neighbors could hear it as his cum leaked onto your tongue. You pulled him out of your mouth and looked up at him as you swallowed, the stuff feeling a bit weird as it went down.

Eddie collapsed onto the bed as he came down from his orgasm and you stood up, an idea suddenly coming to you.

You helped him sit up then grabbed onto he back of his head, forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Want a taste?” You asked as you raised your chin where there were still remnants of his cum still there. “C’mon, know you want to.”

You brought his face closer to yours and he stuck his tongue out, bringing it to your chin, giving it a few slow strokes which was unusual for him.

“Now c’mon, baby, you can do better than that. More enthusiasm.”

Eddie really liked seeing that side of you, how you were able to take charge so easily after the few times you’d slept together. Maybe the student really was becoming the master.

“See?” You asked as he got more rough licking your chin. “See how good your taste?”

And he had to agree. Completely unlike anything he had ever tasted before. But he was pretty sure that most of the good taste was just you.

He tongue moved up and tried to move into your mouth, but you pushed him back with a shake of your head.

“I think you deserve a taste of your own medicine,” you told him and his mouth fell open as he started to realize that he had created a monster.

You began to strip, slowly removing your clothes and touching yourself in the ways that you knew he loved to touch you.

You watched him slowly sit up as you unbuttoned your cardigan, revealing the lacy black bra underneath. The cardigan was tossed to the floor and you moved your hand up to your bra, removing both of the straps from your shoulders then reaching back to undo the clasp.

The bra fell to the floor and then you reached up and brought your thumb up to your nipple, moving it in a circular motion until it was hard, moaning dramatically just like Eddie did before moving onto the other one.

You had him right where you wanted him as you watched his mouth fall open, nothing but whines spilling from it. You then pulled down your skirt and let it pool at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your thong.

Your fingers pressed against the middle of your tits then slowly moved down to your thong, putting a thumb in each of the bands and pulling down, your body now fully naked. Eddie went to stand up, but you just pushed him back down, your eyes darkening as you did so.

“Uh uh uh,” you shook your head. “Gotta watch the show first.”

Your fingers went straight for your cunt and it took everything in Eddie not to take you right there against the dresser. He watched your every move, your moans mixing together as you pumped your fingers in and out of you and he watched. God, what he would have given to have those be his fingers.

He could practically feel how wet you were and felt himself getting hard all over again. And once you reached your orgasm, your pulled your fingers from your cunt, licking them clean before moving towards Eddie.

You pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, slowly sinking onto him as you began to ride him, finally taking the reins on being on top for once.

“Is this okay?” You asked and he nodded furiously. “Yep, I’m good.”’

“Me too. And I’m on birth control.”

He bucked against your hips as your pace picked up, loving how he looked underneath you as you pinned his wrists to the bed.

“Don’t I look better on top?” You asked. “Don’t you just love when I take control?”

“I do, I really do. Who knew you’d be the one who was dominant?”

Your pace picked up, but you could see that he was already spent, fighting to put in the work. You honestly never thought he’d be the one who couldn’t hold out. And that was fine. You just wanted to make sure that he was fully conscious and enthusiastic.

“Alright,” you sighed, climbing off of him. “Bed time.”

“No,” he whined, making grabby hands at you as you tossed his boxers at him.

“Baby, you’re slurring you told him. Now put on your boxers and I promise I’ll rock your world in the morning.”

“Deal,” he slurred and the two of you got into bed as you looked forward for what Eddie had in store next.

[tpwk-formula1]

Holy sh*t, how did you make your menu look that amazing?! I'm in awe no joke. So this is gonna be rough, brace with me (my english sucks.) So could i order a deep dish pizza with alfredo sauce, basil, banana peppers, spinach, roasted mushrooms, goat cheese, eggplant and Oregano. (Damn thats a lot oop-. Kind of sounds disgusting IRL but we dont judge.) With a sprite, Truly and a mojito plus a little dessert. Served by Oliver Bearman please? Thank youuuu <3 (its okay if you're too busy for this)

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

deep dish teammates to lovers alfredo sweet sex basil "I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy" banana peppers "Look so pretty riding my cock" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" roasted mushroom “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” goat cheese "Look so pretty like this" eggplant "Are you sure you want me to take it baby?" oregano "Please, let me cum in you" sprite size kink truly belly bulge mojito loss of virginity dessert yes served by Ollie Bearman

TW - virginity loss. unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, sweet/ slow sex

WC 2100+

Y/N POV

"Have you seen Kimi?" I ask Dino since he was the first personal I saw when I ended into the F3 part of the Paddock.

"No, why would he be here?" Dino asks me laughing slighly at the panic in my voice.

"It's Kimi he ends up wherever he pleases," I respond back with a soft laugh falling from my lips making Dino nod in aggreeance.

"I'll catch you later! Good luck later," I call out to Dino as I speed walk away from the F2 paddock and towards the F1 paddock to try and find my best friend.

"Oh thank god, can you tell Kimi to come here," I say to George when I stop him outside of the Mercedes hospitality where he had told me Kimi was in there.

"Just come with me! I'm sure he's in his little drivers room," George tells me making me nod and follw him into the hosipitality where he found Kimi in his room.

"I need to talk to you, I'm freaking out," I tell him once I closed the door behind me.

"What's got you freaking out?" KImi asks as he set his phone down.

"I lied to Oillie, and now the lie is hitting me in the face," I reply back.

"Okay drop the cryptic messages you're not Taylor Swift what the fuck is going on?" Kimi asks clearly getting frustrated.

"I never told Ollie I was a virgin and I turn all his advances down but not he's convinced I don't want to be with him and I don't know how to fix this," I quickly tell Kimi while paces the small space.

"Just tell him. You have him stressed. Came in here acting the same fucking way. Like you guys were made for eahc other. Just be honest," Kimi tells me softly when we hear a knock on the door.

"Love, I know you're in there," Ollie calls out makig me look at Kimi with wide eyes not ready to tell him right in this moment.

"I got to go," Kimi says with a smirk getting out of bed and opening the door for Ollie and letting us have a moment alone.

"What's been going on?" Ollie asks getting straight to the point.

"Ollie I love you I swear and I want to be with you but I'm scared," I say softly making Ollie look at me with a raised brow clearly needing more information.

"I'm- I- I've never had sex and I thought I could keep it a secret from you but then everytime we get close to doing anything more than oral I freak out," I tell him softly while looking at my hands.

I feel Ollie step towards me and take my hands into his while he tells me to look at him.

"Love, I've known you were a virgin since the moment I touched you," Ollie admits softly making me look up at him with a raised brow.

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" I ask back making Ollie laugh a little.

"I think that's something you're supposed to tell me. I never wanted to push the subject but I couldn't have sex with you until you told me which is why I prentended to think you were lying to me about something," Ollie admits that this was all a set up basically.

"You set me up to admit that I was a virgin?" I ask with a raised brow making Ollie laugh and nod his head.

"It worked, didn't it. I'm in no way trying to rush sex, I just couldn't have sex with you until you admitted it. Now we can have a conversation about everything when the time comes," Ollie tells me softly while pulling me into his arms and placing a soft kiss on my lips.

"Soon," I respond back against his lips letting him know my timeline.

"There's no rush," Ollie responds back then places a kiss on my forehead.

Over the following few days I think about Ollie and I sleeping together more and more before I finally decided I was ready.

“Ollie I wanna do it tonight,” I tell him softly as we lay in his apartment.

“Are you sure? We’re in no kind of rush love,” Ollie tells me softly making me smile and nod my head.

“I’m ready and I wanna share that part of me with you,” I tell him softly making him smile.

“Tonight,” he tells me with a kiss to the forehead as we relax back into the couch and enjoy the random movie he had thrown on.

As the rest of the day passes I get progressively more nervous at the thought of sleeping with Ollie but there's a bigger part of me that's more excited.

When we climb into bed for the night I pull myself into Ollie's lap and start kissing his lips leading the way as much as my confidence will allow me.

"Are you sure you want me to take it baby?" Ollie asks as I start grinding down on his lap whimpering at the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Please Ollie! I only want it to be you," I tell him softly while stopping my grinding and looking Ollie in the eye.

"Okay, we'll go at your pace," Ollie tells me while pulling me back into another kiss while he starts pulling my shirt off leaving me in a pair of cotton panties.

"So beautiful," Ollie announces as he lets his eyes rake over my bare body.

"Ollie, please," I whine grinding down more feeling Ollie start to grow under me.

"Fuck, love," Ollie groans. I start pulling off Ollie's shirt with his help leaving him in just a pair of briefs.

Ollie flips us over leaving my back pressed against the mattress as Ollie is hoovering over me leaving wet kisses all over my neck and collarbones.

"Are you sure love?" Ollie confirms once again making me nod my head.

"Yes, I've never been so sure," I tell Ollie making him smile softly. This my final consent Ollie pulls off my panties and licks a strip from my dripping hole to my sensitive clit making me moan rather loudly when I feel his tongue graze my clit.

"Fuck, such a sweet little thing," Ollie says before he dives in and starts eating me out like a mad man.

"Fuck," I cry getting overwhelmed with the pleasure rather quickly. Ollie starts to slip 2 fingers deep into my pussy making me whimper at the stretch.

While Ollie and I had done a lot together feeling him slip his fingers into my pussy knowing he was soon gonna be slipping his cock into me the pleasure is far more overwhelming.

"Fuck, feel so good around my fingers," Ollie whispers while fingering me trying to prep me as much as possible to take his cock.

"I'm ready, please," I whine when I feel my orgasm start to build knowing I wanted to cum around Ollie's cock and not his fingers.

"Fuck, okay," Ollie says clearly showing some of his nerves.

"Oliver, love. Are you sure you are ready? You seem really nervous," I ask softly with a smile making Ollie look at me with hooded eyes.

"Yes, just don't want to hurt you," Ollie admits softly.

"Love, it's gonna hurt a bit no matter what, but I'm ready and I want you," I reassure once again while pulling him closer.

Ollie finally relaxes at my touch and starts to pull his boxers off.

"Fuck, baby I don't have any protection. I probably should have got some after our conversation a few days ago but I forgot. I can run to the corner store really quick," Ollie says once his boxers were pulled off.

"It's okay! I'm on birth control," I tell him softly while pulling him closer not caring about protection in this very moment.

"Ollie, I need it right now, please," I beg. Ollie just groans when he realizes how desperate I was.

"Fuck, okay," Ollie groans as he starts teasing my clit with his hard cock.

Seeing Ollie from this angle makes me realize how massive his cock truly is.

"Fuck, you're so big," I whine out when I feel the tip of his cock poking around my virgin hair.

"I'll be gentle I promise," Ollie grunts while slowly starting to push into me.

"Fuck Ollie," I cry out as the pain started to wash over him. Ollie completely stops all of his movements giving me some time to adjust before he starts pushing in again.

"Ollie," I whine when I feel him finally bottom out.

"Too big," I gasp trying to let my body relax.

"Look so pretty like this," Ollie groans out as he starts teasing my clit trying to get me to relax further so he could start rocking his hips.

"Fuck Ollie," I moan when the pain starts to fade and is replaced by an overwhelming pleasure. Ollie takes this as encouragement because he starts rocking his hips slowly trying to get me to adjust fulling to his size.

"Please, faster," I moan which instantly has Ollie thrusting into my soaked pussy while still teasing my clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant while growing closer to my orgasm.

“Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy,” Ollie grunts out which has me looking down to see the bulge he had created in my tummy from his cock.

"Fuck Ollie, fucking massive," I moan while pushing down on the bulge in my tummy making the pleasure become overwhelming and instantly cumming all over Ollie's cock with a shout.

"Fuck," I cry while Ollie continues to fuck me through my orgasm.

Ollie starts slowing his thrusts down not wanting to overwhelm me which gives me an idea.

"I wanna ride you," I admit softly which has Ollie looking at me shocked.

"I'm serious Oliver, I want to ride your dick right now," I tell him seriously so he knows I want it.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts while softly slipping out of my soaked pussy and laying down on his back next to me. I climb into his lap and grind my soaked pussy on his hard cock watching as the pleasure starts coursing through his eyes. I lean up slightly while gripping his cock and angling it at my pussy before I slowly start to sink down.

"Fuck," I moan when I feel him stretching me out at a new angle.

"Fuck, feels so good," I moan when I'm fully seated on his cock with little to no pain.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Ollie grunts out as I start bouncing slightly on his cock.

"So good," I cry out as I start bouncing a bit faster as Ollie is thrusting up into me making the pleasure almost unbearable.

I continue fucking down onto his cock while he fucks up into my pussy bringing to closer to the edge again.

"Look so pretty riding my cock," Ollie grunts out which makes me start bouncing faster chasing my orgasm.

"Ollie, I'm close," I moan making Ollie lift my hips slightly and start thrusting into my pussy at a fast pace bringing me over the edge with a shout.

"Ollie," I moan while my legs instantly give out on me but Ollie holds me up and keeps fucking up into me.

"Fuck I'm close. Please, let me cum in you," Ollie grunts out making me look at him and nod softly.

"Cum in me Ollie, please. Wanna feel your cum deep in me," I say which instantly has Ollie's thrusts shudder slightly before he starts filling me up with his hot cum.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts while riding out his orgasm. Once he's started to come down he turns up over once again so he's hoovering over me before he slowly slips his cock out of me watching his cum start to leak from me.

"I love to watch my cum leak from your pretty pussy," Ollie says softly before leaning down and kissing me forehead and climbing out of the bed.

"Why are you leaving me?" I ask softy instantly getting upset with Ollie leaving.

"Just gonna get you some water and a rag to clean you up," Ollie tells me softly while leaning down and pulling me in for a quick kiss.

I watch Ollie disappear out of his bedroom and into another room to get me water while going into the bathroom after and grabbing a warm rag before coming back into the room and instantly wiping me down.

"I'm sorry," Ollie whispers when I whine at his touch clearly too overstimulated.

"I love you Ollie," I tell him softly when he climbs back into the bed.

"I love you too," Ollie replies back pulling me into his chest and letting me relax into his warm embrace.

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

What if I...

—You make a tempting, unexpected offer; how are they going to react?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Nikolai, Fyodor, Sigma, Jouno X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, mentions of giving blowjobs (whether it'll happen or not is up to you lol), unstablished relationship (you're just friends, but are you..?), rushed writing

Genre: Humor

Format: Drabble

Word Count: 1.6K

↳Osamu Dazai"

Listen y/n..." Dazai cooes at you. "I'm a little bit busy with... uh, work; so I don't think I'll be able to accompany you on this mission"

Shaking your head to the side with frustration, you bend a little on the desk, gazing into his Hazel eyes to show your desperation "Oh c'mon Dazai! You're not seriously gonna make me go to this tiresome mission by myself?! They're all politicians! It's gonna be boring as hell!"

The pile of paperwork on his desk are making you question your eyesight, but you know Dazai better than that. He probably saw it coming so he placed them there on purpose to prove his point.

...Not that it could exactly be called a "point".

"Listen..." Your voice is so low that only Dazai can hear it. "There must be some way for me to change your mind"

His expression doesn't change one bit, still looking through the documents for nothing, pretending to be occupied. "Sorry to burst your bubbles, but I really can't—"

"What if I suck your dick?"

Eyes shooting you a shocked gaze and hands staying still, it seems like he's completely lost interest in the paperwork. He's looking through your soul and the moment his lips start moving, you know you've won the battle.

"For... for real?" "Yes, for real"

The surprised face is all gone and instead, there's a totally new face now; a smug face of a man who's gonna team up with you for the mission and get a little prize in the end.

"So when do we leave?"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Listen Chuuya, with great looks comes great responsibility. There's a reason why you're this hot!"

The red-haired man looked away as an attempt to hide his flustered face, his voice still gravely. "Stop it y/n. I'm not gonna be your model for the photoshoot"

"Why not? You're the perfect choice!" "The answer's no! Get over it"

"Hmph! You're no fun" You crossed your arms and pouted as you leaned to the chair. You couldn't make heads or tails of it. Why was he so against being your model? You were just gonna take a few photos of him wearing casual clothes and maybe some light makeup. It was for your photography class and you were supposed to take a pic of somebody under the rays of sunset. With Chuuya's red hair and blue eyes, it would be a breath taking pic. He just looked so pretty under the sun.

As Chuuya took the bottle to sip from it, you found yourself desperate enough to give it one last shot.

"What if I suck your dick as a payment?"

And then the explosion happened. Chuuya's hand snapped, the bottle fell on the floor and drops of wine literally squirted out of his mouth. He was coughing so strongly that you rushed over and started hitting him in the back like he was some kind of ketchup bottle. His face was crimson red, but whether it was from choking or embarrassment, you couldn't really tell.

When he finally came down and caught his breath, he placed his hand on his chest and looked at you with eyes the same size as a baseball, meanwhile you looked at him miserably with the word "sorry" written all over your face.

"So... is that a yes?" "NO!"

Well, at least you nearly killed him.

↳Jouno Saigiku

"Ok I don't know why you're refusing. I'm just giving you the opportunity to make up for your mean attitude by doing something nice! You know, to go to heaven, like me and other nice people, Teccho for example"

Jouno was still expressionless. He merely sipped his cup of coffee and placed his hat on the table. "I appreciate the offer, but after a lifetime we definitely need a break from each other"

"Ugh you jerk! C'mon it's a piece of cake for you! You've arrested plenty of people before! You're smart, you're strong and I came to you for help which shows that I'm really desperate!"

Your relationship with Jouno was... questionable. He teased you, had a tendency to piss you off all the time, but somehow you were friends. The weirdest type of friendship that had ever existed, probably.

"I can see that. See I do wanna help you out, but I just love seeing the new you"

Shaking your head to the side, you leaned back to the couch. A hard case was given to you and you really didn't want to blow it up, but you needed help, and everyone else were busy. Except for your horrible friend here.

"Jouno, Jouno, Please..." You took his left, gloved hand. "I need you! I'll do anything in return! I'll team up with you and insult Teccho for a whole year! I'll write every one of your reports! I'll even suck your d—"

Jouno didn't hear your voice anymore. In fact, the only thing heard in the room was pure silence, and of course your heartbeat.

You were shocked.

He got his hand out of your grasp, placing it next to your head. His other hand found its way to your lips, softly caressing them. Meanwhile you didn't say a word, just stared at his handsome face and swallowed your saliva.

"Hypothetically, if I help you out, how far would you go to make it up to me?"

Forget about your friendship. You weren't that close anyway.

↳Fyodor Dostoevsky

"I'm going to go to my parents' with my boyfriend tonight"

"I thought you didn't have a boyfriend, dear" Fyodor tilted his head to the side to gaze at you.

"I don't! That's where you come in!"

Nikolai exchanged a look between your nervous expression and Fyodor's smile, and pouted. "Hey! Why didn't you ask me instead?"

"Yeah yeah, if I ever wanted to give them a heart attack you'd be the first person I'll go to" You sighed and looked back at Fyodor. "So? Would you please help me out?"

Fyodor was sitting next to you on a chair. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Ah... I'm not sure about that. Wouldn't it make our relationship awkward?"

"No! No not at all!" Your voice was rushed and shaky. "You see you're the perfect choice for this"

"Hmph!"

"Shut up Nikolai. I mean, you're tall, you know how to talk to people— in a satisfying way, ah, you know what I mean, you're handsome, you have very pretty hair, you have the most beautiful violet eyes I can stare at until forever..."

His brattish smirk made you shut up and give a few embarrassed coughs. Your flushed cheeks weren't exactly helping you out at the moment.

"Eh... So you're the best in many ways... Now, would you please help me out?"

Fyodor gave Nikolai-who was also smirking- a meaningful look, and his smirk got broader. "I will think about it"

"What's there to think about? You get to have a free dinner and also have a great time! My dad has the same taste in books as you! I'll even suck your dick at the end!"

You suddenly shut up and stared at the two men with eyes the same size as a racket ball. Now there was also two pare of knitted eyebrows along with the smirks. Nikolai's winking and muttering "Yeah baby" didn't help you loosen up at all.

Fyodor leaned closer until the phrase "personal space" lost its meaning, staring at you. His pretty eyes were sparkling, making it harder to steal your gaze from them. His voice was as gentle as the sea breeze, the perfect melody to caress your ears.

"So... I'll get to date the most beautiful girl in the world, spend a whole night with her and then get something afterwards?"

You were so drowned in your thoughts that you couldn't utter a single word. This moment was magical, making you wonder if he were going to seal your lips with his, totally forgetting about Nikolai's presence.

...Until he started talking.

"Do you guys want me to leave the room? Cause there's no way I'm doing that"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"...Which is why clowns are so fragile and have strong emotions!"

You shook your head with disappointment. "Yeah yeah, get it. But that doesn't answer my question"

"What was your question anyway?"

Ugh.

"Would you please babysit my cousins with me?"

"Hahaha! I remember now!" His face brightened with joy. "Well, no"

You leaned closer to him miserably. "Oh c'mon Kolya!"

"Sorry dove, I just don't get along with children. Not a fan"

"But they're triplets Kolya! I can't handle them on my own!" At this point you were literally begging. "Pretty please?"

"Triplets? Ha! Another reason for me to say no"

Well, that was it. You were going to be alone with your naughty cousins for four hours and then hand a burned house and probably only one of the boys back to your aunt because you lost the other two.

"Unless..."

Ah! There's still some hope left.

"You offer me something in return?"

Nikolai's face was dangerously close to yours. His smile was bright, but his intention didn't seem to be. Although that didn't scare you. It only made your body numb with excitement and through your clouded mind, you somehow put two and two together and blurted something out.

"Eh... What if.. What if I suck your di— Woah Nikolai what are you doing?"

A chuckle left his mouth as if something simple had happened, but this wasn't simple. He had just lifted you up and was carrying you bridal style to your bedroom.

"You took the hint all by yourself. How about that, my naughty dove?"

"K— Kolya! Where are you taking me?"

Your red cheeks only made his smile broader. "We're gonna get your clothes changed, go to your aunt's aweful house, babysit your horrible cousins, and then get ready for a night of fun"

↳Sigma

"So... How's the best manager in the world?"

Sigma's stare was still pointed at the documents. "I'm not planning a birthday party for your friend y/n"

"What are you talking about?" You smiled cunningly, lightly caressing his arm from the other side of the desk. "Can't I just compliment my incredible friend? Who happens to be an expert in planning and managing stuff?"

When you two first met, he used to get flustered by your flattering comments, but now Sigma's eyebrows only jumped in surprise. "You... can, but it won't change my mind"

"Pretty please?" Dropping the act, you got up from your seat and stood next to him, putting both of your hands on his shoulders. "I really need your help. I don't have a clue about this and you're the only one I know"

"I'm sorry y/n, but I'm caught up with work. You know that the casino is very busy this time of year, there's nothing I can do"

You sighed and sat on the chair again, desperately thinking about a way to convince him. What would make men do women a favor...

"What if I suck you dick?"

Sigma was still staring at the documents, which made you wonder if he had heard you, but his eyes were not the same. They were widened. He slowly lifted his head and looked at you like he was about to chop off his hand and stick it down his ass, and that made you finally realize it.

"Oh I forgot that you're three years old! I mean you haven't even hit puberty yet. Oops. My bad"

Yeah, Sigma needed new friends.

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

Tag List:

@pussydrunkfyodor @h8kolya @exhausted-doll @rosasensibles @nekokinax @paperllama @the-foreigner @arsonklee @fayenfim @c4xcocoa @asqmi @blueberry-writer @ryokuryuu @ayladove @sinfullysophiastrange @sugarcherryemo @whossuzy @sigmazcasino @linn-a-a @uottani @ilovechuuyaa @ezraiix @aeshiiteiru @dreamcastgirl99 @bestiewhat

Want to be added to my bsd tag list?

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Worship

Summary: Geta confronts his spouse after a situation and the tables are turned in the way that he wasn't expecting.

Pairing: Geta x Gender - neutral reader

A/N: Yes the summary sucks and I'm not sure if I like how this turned out, but please let me know if this was decent. I don't tend to write shorts or scenes that lead to more that often. I tried to make this gender neutral, hopefully I did okay 😅.

“Worship me!” 

Emperor Geta approached his spouse with a beast like hunger, his hand moved to grab their chin roughly. His dark brown eyes darkened as he forced their head to face him, searching their face for any sign of reluctance. Their eyes narrowed in indignation at the tone that their husband chose to speak to them, perhaps Geta was upset or a council meeting had not gone his way, but they refused to let him take out his frustration out on them and not think to speak about it. 

With a lack of response from his spouse, Geta repeated himself, “Are you deaf? You know I don’t like to repeat myself, I said worship me.”

"I heard you" they said. "But I don't care much for your tone and refuse to let you treat me this way.” 

Geta’s sharp gaze narrowed further still at their words, his temper flaring up in a matter of seconds. His fingers clamped down harder, the pads of his fingers tightening.

“Did I give you the impression I was asking for your consideration, beloved? No. I don’t care how the hell you like me to speak, you’re going to listen to what I say and do it without question.” 

They scowled and ripped away from him, "Keep speaking to me this way and acting as you are and I won't hesitate to cut off your cock.”

A snarl formed on the man’s face at their threat, it was uncommon for his spouse to be so blatant in their refusal. They were usually so docile in his presence and his requests. 

He clearly wasn’t happy.

“Is that a threat I hear?” He growled out, his fingers balling into a tight fist at his side. “You would dare make threats against your husband’s manhood?” 

"It seems like you are lacking it without my help,” they scoff. "You can't speak to me curtly with no explanation and expect me to treat you with respect you aren't giving me.”

That snapped the man’s self control and the look in his eyes turned feral in an instant, his hand shooting out to wrap around their throat as he took the last few steps towards them. He pinned them against the nearest wall, his body pressing forward to trap them between him and the cold surface.

“You insolent little -.” He hissed, his grip on their neck constricting. “How many times do I have to warn you not to speak that way to me? I am your husband.”

They smirk and pressed closer, "Go ahead, do your worst, husband.”

A dangerous look flashed through the man’s eyes as he leaned in closer, his body practically flush against them. The anger, the lust, the need. It was all swirling around inside him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. He’d always thought their spouse was cute when they fought back.

“You’re just begging for it, aren’t you? I should teach you a lesson, beloved.”

Their hand reached out and tugged at the belt of his robe, "Do you think I deserve to be punished?"

A shiver ran up his spine as he felt them tugging on the belt of his robe. His self control was a mere thread at this point, the sound of his heavy breath filling the air between them.

“You’re damn right,” he responded gruffly, his hands moving to loosen the tie of his robe just enough for the sash to fall open. The fabric of his robe hung open, exposing a strip of the bare skin of his chest. “On your knees, now.” 

They hum in thought, "I don't think so, husband.” They stepped away from Geta and moved to sit comfortably on the edge of their shared bed. "I think it's you that needs to do some groveling.”

His expression darkened the moment they stepped away, his eyes narrowing once again. He’d been so close to them, so damn close to having them under him where he wanted. But they just had to be difficult.

“Me on my knees?” He repeated incredulously, taking a couple of steps in their direction. “You expect me, a god, the Great Emperor himself, to grovel? You must be delusional.”

They crook a finger and teasingly requests him closer, "But aren't I your spouse and therefore a god in need of worshipping?"

He paused and growled in frustration as they beckoned him closer with that teasing crook of their finger. 

But they were right.

They were the spouse of the Emperor, another god in the flesh. He let out a sigh before slowly approaching them, his hands moving to rest on their thighs as he stood in front of them.

“Damn you. You know I can never resist when you say things like that.”

They wrap their arms around his neck and give him a sultry smile, "But you love me for it, don't you?"

A shiver ran down his spine again as their arms wrapped around his neck, their smile was just as powerful as their words against him. A slow smirk formed on his face as his hands skimmed up the length of their thighs, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of their own robe.

“Yes,” he purred out, his gaze flickering between their face and the cleavage of the robe. “I love you, but you know just how to drive me insane.”

"Well?" they say. "How do you intend on worshipping your god? Or will I have to find myself another.”

A dark look flashed through his eyes at the mention of his spouse finding another to worship them in the way only he should. Geta would sooner cut his way through an army of men before he let that happen. They were his, no one else’s. His hands gripped their thighs tighter, fingers digging into the plump flesh as he lowered himself to his knees before them.

“You’re not going to find another,” he growled out, his hands moving underneath the fabric of their robe as he looked up at them. “I’m the only one worthy enough to worship a god like you.”

They cup his face and smirk, "Then worship.”

[anim-ttrpgs]

Help Save the World of TTRPGs and Their Creators.

Okay I’m being a little dramatic, but at the same time I’m pretty serious. This is a call to action, and the livelihoods of myself and lots of other people, many of them (like myself) disabled, are depending on it. This is a post about why, what you can do about it, and (perhaps least often answered) how.

This post is actually an accompaniment to another discussion by someone else. If you don’t want to listen to a 90-minute in-depth discussion of much of what I’m about to tell you, you can just keep reading. Otherwise, click here or here and listen to this either before or after you read this post. (They’re the same thing, just different sources.)

If you have ever made or reblogged posts urging people to switch from Google Chrome to Firefox, you should be willing to at least give a try to other TTRPGs besides D&D5e for much the same principle reasons. I’m not telling you you have to hate D&D5e, and I’m not telling you you have to quit D&D5e, I’m just asking you to try some other games. If you don’t like them, and you really want to go back to D&D5e, then go back to D&D5e. But how can you really know you won’t like other games if you have literally never tried them? This post is a post about why and how to try them. If you’re thinking right now that you don’t want to try them, I urge you to look below to see if any of your reasons for not wanting to try them are covered there. Because the monopoly that WotC’s D&D5e has on TTRPGs as a whole is bad for me as a game designer, and it’s bad for you as a game player. It’s even bad for you if you like D&D5e. A fuller discussion of the why and how this is the case can be found in the links above, but it isn’t fully necessary for understanding this post, it’ll just give you a better perspective on it.

If you’re a D&D5e player, I’m sure at some point or another, you’ve been told “play a different game”, and it must get frustrating without the context of why and how. This post is here to give you the why and how.

[The following paragraph has been edited because the original wording made it sound like we think all weird TTRPGs suck.]

Before that though, one more thing to get out of the way. I'm going to level with you. There’s a lot of weird games out there.

You are gonna see a lot of weird TTRPGs when you take the plunge. Many of them try to completely reinvent what a TTRPG even is, and some fail spectacularly, others really do even up doing something very interesting even if they don't end up being what a core TTRPG player wants. But not every indie RPG is a Bladefish, lots and lots of them are more 'traditional' and will feel very familiar to you, I promise. (And you might even find that you like the weird experimental bladefish type ones, these are usually ideal for one-session plays when your usual group can't play your usual game for any reason.)

You're also going to probably see a lot of very bad games, and man have I got some stories of very bad games, but for now I'm just saying to make sure you read the reviews, or go through curators (several of which will be listed below), before you buy.

Now that that is out of the way, I’m going to go down a list of concerns you may have for why not, and then explain the how.

“I don’t want to learn a whole new set of rules after I already spent so much time learning D&D5e.”

Learning a new set of rules is not going to be as hard as you think. Most other TTRPGs aren’t like that. D&D5e is far on the high end of the scale for TTRPGs being hard and time-consuming to learn and play. If you’ve only played D&D5e, it might trick you into thinking that learning any TTRPG is an overwhelmingly time-consuming task, but this is really mostly a D&D5e problem, not a TTRPG problem as a whole.

“D&D5e has all of these extra online tools to help you play it.”

So what? People have been playing TTRPGs without the help of computers for 50 years. To play a well-designed TTRPG you won’t need a computer. Yes, even if you're bad at math. There are some TTRPGs out there that barely even use math.

“I’m too invested in the narrative and characters of my group’s current ongoing D&D5e campaign to switch to something else.”

There are other games, with better design made by better people for less money, that are the same kind of game as D&D5e, that your current characters, lore, and plot will fit right into and do it better. And no, it's not just Pathfinder, there's others.

“I can’t afford to play another TTRPG.”

You probably can. If you’ve only played D&D5e, you might have been made to think that TTRPGs are a very expensive hobby. They aren’t. D&D5e is actually uniquely expensive, costing more than 3x more than the next most expensive TTRPG I can think of right now. Even on the more expensive end, other TTRPG books will cost you no more than $60, most will cost you less than $20, and a whole lot of them are just free. If you somehow still can’t afford another TTRPG, come to the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book club mentioned below, nominate the game, and if it wins the vote we will straight up buy it for you.

(By the way, if you had any of the above concerns about trying other games besides D&D5e, that really makes it sound like you are in a textbook abusive relationship with D&D5e. This is how abusers control their partners, and how empires control their citizens, by teaching you to think that nothing could ever get any better, and even though they treat you bad, the Other will treat you even worse.)

“If I don’t play D&D5e, which TTRPG should I play?”

That’s a pretty limited question to be asking, because there will be no one TTRPG for everything. And no, D&D5e is not the one TTRPG for everything, Hasbro’s marketing team is just lying to you. (Pathfinder and PbtA are not the one system for everything either!) Do you only play one video game or only watch one movie or only read one book? When you finish watching an action movie like Mad Max, and then you want to watch a horror movie, do you just rewind Mad Max and watch it over again but this time you act scared the whole time? No, you watch a different movie. I’m asking you to give the artistic medium of TTRPGs the same respect you would give movies.

“I want to play something besides D&D5e, but my friends won’t play anything else!”

I have several answers to this.

Try showing them this post.

If that doesn’t work: Make them. Put your foot down. This works especially well if you are the DM. Tell them you won’t run another session of D&D5e until they agree to give what you want to do at least one try instead of always doing only what they want to do. This is, like, playing 101. We learned this in kindergarten. If your friend really wants to play something else, you should give their game a try, or you’re not really being a very good friend.

If that doesn’t work, find another group. This doesn’t even mean that you have to leave your existing group. A good place to start would be the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club which will be mentioned and linked below. You can also go to the subreddit of any game you’re interested in and probably meet people there who have the same problem you do and want to put together a group to play something other than D&D5e. You might get along great with these people, you might not, but you won’t know until you try. Just make sure to have a robust “session zero” so everyone is on the same page. This is a good practice for any group but it is especially important for a group made of players you’ve just met.

“I only watch actual plays.”

Then watch actual plays of games that aren’t D&D5e. These podcasts struggle for the same reasons that indie RPGs struggle, because of the brand recognition and brand loyalty D&D5e has, despite their merit. I don’t watch actual plays, or else I would be able to list more of them. So, anyone who does watch actual plays, please help me out by commenting on this post with some non-D&D5e actual plays you like. And please do me a favor and don’t list actual plays that only play one non-D&D5e system, list ones that go through a variety of systems. The first one I can think of is Tiny Table.

“I can just homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e.”

Even though I want to, I’m not going to try and argue that you can’t actually homebrew away all the problems with D&D5e. Instead, I’m going to ask you why you’re buying two $50 rulebooks just to throw away half the pages. In most other good RPGs, you don’t need to change the rules to make them fun, they’re fun right out the box.

“But homebrewing D&D5e into any kind of game is fun! You can homebrew anything out of D&D5e!”

Firstly, I promise that this is not unique to D&D5e. Secondly, then you would probably have more fun homebrewing a system that gives you a better starting point for reaching your goal. Also, what if I told you that there are entire RPG systems out there that are made just for this? There are RPG systems that were designed for the purpose of being a toolbox and set of materials for you to work with to make exactly the game you want to make. Some examples are GURPS, Savage Worlds, Basic RolePlaying, Caltrop Core, and (as much as I loathe it) PbtA.

“I’m not supporting WotC’s monopoly because I pirate all the D&D5e books.”

Then you’re still not supporting the smaller developers that this monopoly is crushing, either.

Now, here’s the how. Because I promise you, there’s not just one, but probably a dozen other RPGs out there that will scratch your exact itch.

Here’s how to find them. This won’t be a comprehensive list because I’ve already been typing this for like 3 hours already. Those reading this, please go ahead and comment more to help fill out the list.

First, I’m gonna plug one of my own major projects, because it’s my post. The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club. It’s a discord server that treats playing TTRPGs like a book club, with the goal of introducing members to a wide variety of games other than D&D5e. RPGs are nominated by members, then we hold a vote to decide what to read and play for a short campaign, then we repeat. There is no financial, time, or schedule investment required to join this book club, I promise it is very schedule-friendly, because we assign people to different groups based of schedule compatibility. You don’t have to play each campaign, or any campaign, you can just read along and participate in discussion that way. And if you can’t afford to buy the rulebook we’re going to be reading, we will make sure you get a PDF of it for free. That is how committed we are to getting non-D&D5e RPGs into people’s hands. Here is an invite link.

Next, there are quite a few tumblr blogs you can follow to get recommendations shown to you frequently.

@indierpgnewsletter

@indie-ttrpg-of-the-day

@theresattrpgforthat

@haveyouplayedthisttrpg

@indiepressrevolution

Plenty of podcasts, journalists, and youtubers out there do in-depth discussions of different systems regularly, a couple I can think of off the top of my head are:

Storyteller Conclave (I’m actually going to be interviewed live on this show on April 10th!)

Seth Skorkowsky

Questing Beast

The Gaming Table

Rascal News

Lastly, you can just go looking. Browse r/rpg, drivethrurpg.com, indie press revolution, and itch.io.

Now, if you really want to support me and my team specifically Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, our debut TTRPG, is going to launch on Kickstarter on April 10th and we need all the help we can get. Set a reminder from the Kickstarter page through this link.

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, there’s plenty of ways to get one!

Subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

Donate to our ko-fi and send us an email with proof that you did, and we’ll email you back with the full Eureka prerelease package with the most updated version at the time of responding! (The email address can be found if you scroll down to the bottom of our website.)

We also have merchanise.