#tequila...... slurp

[kumkaniudaku]

101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?" 

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul. 

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life. 

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?" 

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?" 

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?" 

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention. 

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record." 

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that." 

"He's back from Portugal?" 

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…" 

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy. 

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?" 

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied. 

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around. 

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad. 

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance. 

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down." 

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?" 

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement. 

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR. 

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook. 

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married." 

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best. 

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice. 

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!" 

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that." 

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?" 

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his. 

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight." 

"How?" 

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that." 

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair. 

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince. 

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle. 

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night. 

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka. 

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions. 

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them. 

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?" 

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?" 

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.  

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it." 

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence. 

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers. 

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose. 

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number. 

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open. 

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions." 

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates. 

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success. 

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer. 

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool." 

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date." 

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time." 

"Copy." 

"No staying the night." 

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship. 

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes.  For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic. 

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble." 

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior. 

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich." 

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question." 

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first." 

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness. 

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no." 

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations." 

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it." 

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so." 

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?" 

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods." 

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?" 

"Mhm." 

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation. 

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you." 

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles. 

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money." 

"You're vegan?" 

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today." 

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale. 

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one. 

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand. 

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room. 

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up." 

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me." 

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection. 

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more. 

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you." 

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit. 

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips. 

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse." 

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?" 

"You want your Wednesday usual?" 

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!" 

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts. 

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill. 

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

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[slvtforoldermen]

based on that one post I made

tw: none really, cursing (ig? is that a warning, we’re all big kids here), suggestive

“Channie,” You giggle. “Just stop wriggling, jeez!” It’s the third time you’ve tried to pour the tequila onto his stomach, and the third time he’s somehow managed to shake the liquor off. You were the one who came up with this idea of cause: it happened when Chan had just come out the shower, and you were admiring his well sculpted torso as usual, when the water from his hair trickled down his midriff.

“It’s cold!” He laughs loudly. You huff playfully before straddling his hips.

“Of course it’s cold, who the hell wants warm tequila?” You scoff as you pour the liquor into a shot glass the third time, sprinkling in some salt and then squeezing the last lime slice. “If you move now, I swear to god.”

“Just go to the kitchen and get another like baby,” He smiles, looking at your mock-frustrated expression.

“It’s not about not going to the kitchen, it’s about consistency,”

“Honey, that’s not-“

“Shhh…” You whisper as you pour the tequila onto his stomach. This time he doesn’t move, he doesn’t flinch, he just stares; a slight smirk decorates his face as he watches your concentrated gaze. You push your hair back before leaning down, sipping up the liquor on his abdomen, and he bites back a moan. When you reach his lower stomach, you smirk and slurp the tequila from the belly button, there was more due to the multiple failed attempts of pouring the tequila. When you lift your head back up, you see his red cheeks and lusty look in his eyes.

“You like that?” You giggle.

“You’re a genius,” He whispers, his voice hoarse. “C’mere.” He pulls you up by your waist and kisses you passionately, his tongue pushing into your mouth. “My smart-“ He mumbles between kisses. “-Sexy-“ Kiss. “-Baby…”

“I think you enjoyed that a little too much,” You giggle as you pull away.

“So did,” He smiles, the tips of his ears growing red.

[kingofthe-egirls]

SITTING PRETTY: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: alcohol, kitsune, east blue crew, yes i was imagining the opla cast but so were you, kissing, sitting in someone’s lap)

(a/n: this was so fun. smut maybe coming soon? we’ll see)

Songs: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 1.2k

Luffy is staring at you.

He’s sitting across the campfire from you, sipping a glass of milk through a straw. You have your own moscow mule in hand, the copper mug sweating with cold condensation.

The air smells like smoke.

“So!” Luffy speaks, twirling his straw around in his drink. He slurps it loudly before continuing, “Let’s play a game!”

He smiles around at the rest of the crew, who are all in their own various states of intoxication. It’s been a long night, after several days at sea with no islands in sight. Everyone is a little bored, a little stressed, and more than a little in need of blowing off some steam. Nami shrugs.

“Sure, captain. What’s up?”

Luffy leans forward, wicked smirk painting his charming features. You stare down into your melted ice and muddled mint leaves.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Zoro sighs, but leans forward too. Sanji and Usopp also perk up. The Merry creaks in the waves as she sails. The ocean laps at her sides, soothing and peaceful in the summer night air. The campfire sparks up with a flare.

Luffy slurps his milk.

“What are the stakes?” Nami asks, adjusting in her seat, her boots slung over one another as she leans back. Usopp is fiddling with his slingshot.

Zoro shrugs, “Drink if you won’t take a dare, drink twice if you won’t take a truth.”

“So, we’re trying to outmatch each other? Get stuff we won’t wanna do?”

“Sorta,” Zoro says, “S’alright with everyone?”

“Sounds fun,” you admit, downing your glass before handing it off to Sanji. He’s a sucker for your sparkly eyes and fluffy tails. Your ears flick back and forth, excited. Nervous.

Sanji hurries back with a refill.

He straightens his suit jacket before sitting back down. The indigo night washes over him with a flattering, velvet softness. You wonder what shade of blue his eyes are, up close.

Luffy clears his throat.

“Sooo, who wants to go first?” His shining eyes scan the crew, and you flick up a tail (or two). He smiles, and takes a sip of his kid’s drink.

You sigh. “Truth,” you say, staring at Nami. You figure she’s gonna strike the worst, so might as well get it over with first. She stares at you, flicking her eyes up and down your scrappy frame. She arches an auburn brow.

“So, Kitty,” she sips her cider, and Sanji shifts in his seat. “Have you ever had sex before?”

She’s smiling, devilish, as you snort through your drink. She laughs as you cough, orange hair swaying in the soft breeze. Everyone else stutters and laughs, and Zoro mutters something about “starting off strong.” You swallow, sucking your teeth as you swirl melted ice around your drink.

“Yes.”

Everyone sighs out in relief, tension removed for a second of release.

Your eyes flick up to hers.

“Your turn.”

She stares back at you: a challenge.

“Dare.”

You shrug, mouth turned down, “I dare you to say when the last time you had sex was.” You stare at her glare, as she clocks you basically just gave her a truth anyway. She sniffs.

“Last week.”

“Liar!” You say, and she giggles. You shove the bottle of tequila closer to her, and she swallows what is certainly more than just one shot.

“Your turn,” she says to Zoro, who glances at Luffy for his prompt.

Luffy stares at the floor, now-empty glass held loosely in slender fingers. “What…is your favorite color?”

“I didn’t say truth, captain,” Zoro snorts, “Truth or dare, Luffy.”

“Dare?”

Sanji sighs, and Usopp says “we might as well go with it,” so Zoro sighs and starts to think of something to dare his already-reckless captain with. He settles on something silly, and tame.

“I dare you to slingshot back and forth across the ship five times.”

Happy to be moving, your hyperactive friend shoots up and starts gum-gum rocketing across the ship with no small amount of shouting. You swirl the mint leaves in your drink. “Your turn,” you murmur to Usopp, who gives Sanji a glance.

“Truth or dare?” The chef asks, his own glass of wine clutched in his delicate fist. It’s as dark as the sea.

“Truth.”

“What do Kaya’s lips taste like?”

The group ooo’s in scandalous delight, all eyes on the sniper as he stares down into his drink. “Pass,” he says, and takes a huge slurp. It dribbles down his chin. “Who’s turn is next?”

“Sanji,” you say, turning to him with a smile, “Truth or dare, handsome?”

He blushes at your pet name, and someone coughs. The blond boy licks his lips. His eyes meet yours, reflecting the fire’s red heat.

“Dare.”

“Kiss my cheek,” you preen, tails flicking around you. You bare the side of your face to him, sitting pretty by the campfire. Your scrappy jeans have stitched-on patches, and your crop top hangs loose around your frame. A single pendant hangs around your neck, and your hair is twisted into messy braids. You knock your steel-toed boots together.

Sanji hums, peaceful, as he delicately scoots toward you. He’s already sitting next to you, tall legs and broad shoulders bumping into yours as he settles closer in. His hand is slightly cool as it graces the side of your neck. “Be still, pretty,” he whispers, just for you, as he presses a slow smooch against your cheek. He bites it, playfully, and you swat him away with a fearsome blush.

Usopp giggles, and Nami snorts into her cider again. Zoro and Luffy are both silent. You swallow, and cast about the crew for someone else’s turn. “Is it me again?” You ask, and Zoro nods.

“Truth or dare?” He says, sake almost drained from his bottle. The air stills, sudden breeze gone quiet as you sit together. You curl two tails around yourself, petting the soft, arctic fur in your lap. It scratches against the striped patch on the side of your left hip.

“Truth.”

“Nope,” Zoro says, swigging his sake, “Truth is boring. You’re doing a dare. Sit in the lap of the person you’d most like to have sex with.”

Everyone gasps, except for you.

Your eyes burn with smoke, staring down the swordsman across the crackling flames. Sparks shoot up between you, orange and hazy in the moonlight. Something thumps against the ship; a fish or a shark that swims away silently.

You stand.

Sanji shifts, still close to you from his kiss. He scratches the fabric of his slacks above his left knee. His shoes are shiny and black beneath the stars. You step over them, carefully.

And you make your way across the circle, slowly as a shark circling prey.

“Sorry,” you whisper, standing in front of the captain who saved you, “Is this seat taken?”

He stares at you.

His breath comes ragged and hazy, as he sets his glass down to make room. His hands are sweaty, so he wipes them off on his shorts as you stand beside his hip. He leans back, slightly, to let you sit side-saddle across his legs. He shifts on the deck so he’s cross-legged, and you take your seat with a searing blush. Your ass fits neatly into the space between his crisscrossed legs, his heat spilling into your body as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He nuzzles into your cheek, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “Sleeping in my hammock tonight,” he whispers, his lips in your hair, “Captain’s orders.”

****

[priceinjection]

Body Shots

I woke up in a cold sweat to write this and it went from a short little paragraph to a four part series, please enjoy

●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●～●

Pt.1 | Pt.2 |

CW: Drinking (duh), drunk sex, (oral male!receiving), exhibition (kinda? In a loose term), mentions of Simon sharing you with the team

The first time you suggested body shots you were in your boyfriend Simon’s apartment drinking with his team. 

Johnny and Gaz sat at the kitchen counter, chatting about something unimportant. You and Simon sat on the couch, but he was turned away from you talking to Price. You were feeling incredibly bored so you spoke, “I think body shots could be fun right now., don’t you boys?” When the words left your lips all conversation ceased and you could see all of their eyes light up, thinking they’re about to not only see you topless but they get to lick you. What nobody excepted; however, was for you to gently push Simon onto his back on the couch. When you asked, Gaz scrambled to find and hand you the supplies without a second thought. The room was silent except for the quiet radio as everyone watched you pull Simon’s shirt up, sprinkle a trail of salt onto his chest, and place a lime wedge between his lips. A strained “fuck” left Johnny’s lips when you moved to straddle Simon. You could have sworn you saw Johnny and Gaz adjust themselves in sync when you leaned down to slowly lick the salt off of Simon’s chest. You threw back the shot of tequila with ease before taking the lime from Simon’s mouth with your own. With a self satisfied smirk on your face and the attention of all four men in the room you sat back up properly. “Anyone else want a turn?” Unfortunately nobody else would get a turn that night, Simon demanding they all get lost. You stood to let him physically push everyone out of the door, laughing at the chorus of ‘boos’ and complaints that you two received. 

When the door finally shut Simon whipped around and grabbed you by the hair, using his grip to push you to your knees with one hand and undo his fly with the other. “Think you’re cheeky huh? Think it’s funny to let ‘em think they get to put their mouths on you, just to be a fuckin’ tease and make ‘em all watch you take the shot instead?” His words surprised you for a moment, he wasn’t mad that you implied his team could put their mouths on you…oh no, he was pissed because you made them think they could and then denied them. The realization sent chills down your spine, but before you could get any words in either to tease him or poke at the idea of him sharing you Simon was forcing your mouth open. “C’mon luv, open up for me. You were so eager to use your mouth earlier. Let’s see you do it again yeah?”

Simon laid his leaking tip on your tongue when you stuck it out for him. You looked up at him with those pretty doe eyes you knew made him crazy as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with the aftertaste of the shot you had just taken caused you to let out an involuntary moan. As if acting on some primal instinct Simon pushed your head as far down as you could go, 3/4 of the way his pushing was met with resistance “come on sweet’eart…swallow. Swa-yeah, attagirl.”” You manage to get those last few inches down your throat, your nose brushing against those pretty blonde curls at his base. Your hands reached up to brace yourself on his thighs as he started to move your head, using your mouth like his own personal toy. The gagging and slurping sounds that emitted from you were downright filthy, and your looked matched the sounds. Saliva covering your chin and dripping down onto your chest. After what felt like forever but was probably just a few minutes or so your boyfriend pulled you off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. Your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Simon let go of your hair and moved to sit back on the couch, you didn’t dare move a muscle.  Once he was comfortable he looked you over and patted his lap. The simple non-verbal command and you stripping your bottoms and moving to straddle his lap.

You were already soaked and both of you knew it. “You this fuckin’ wet just from sucking me off dove?” His words were accompanied by the feeling of his finger sliding across your slit, gathering up some of the wetness that leaked from you. The gentle touch alone had you bucking your hips, an action that was quickly halted by Simons free hand gripping your thigh. “Wait” His voice dark and rough and had that ’don’t fuck with me’ tone that made your stomach do backflips. You watched with wide eyes as Simon brought his finger to his lips and sucked your slick off of his finger. “Fuckin’ divine you know that luv?”  Your response came in the form of a desperate whimper and another attempt to grind your aching cunt against his cock. It was right there, so close and still wet from your saliva.

Simon let out a chuckle before lifting your hips a little so he could properly position himself, lining up with your hole in a practiced manner that came from far too much couch sex. He helped you slowly lower yourself down onto him, letting you accommodate to the stretch. “Thats it. Thats a good girl, just like that,” When you were properly sat you both let out a shuddery breath. No matter how many times he fucked you his size was still a shock to your body that you had to adjust to, but once you were ready your hips became an unstoppable force. Not that Simon would want to stop the way you bounced up and down, moved back and forth, greedy walls gripping him and trying to suck him back in every time you pulled up even a little. It was absolute heaven for both of you and it was bringing you closer to your orgasm faster than you cared to admit. 

Your moans raised in pitch the closer you got to your orgasm “Simon..Si..Simons please im-“ He covered your mouth with his hand quickly. “Not yet, please…just a little longer, wanna fuck your cunt for just al little longer. You can wait cant you doll?” You whined in protest but nodded nevertheless, you couldn’t say no to him. Especially when his eyebrows scrunched together and his eyes squeezed shut as his hips rammed up into yours, the feeling making you borderline delirious. Simon didn’t tell you that you were allowed to cum yet , at least not verbally. Instead he reached a hand down between your bodies to rub at your poor sensitive and neglected clit, it was too much. The please making your head spin and hips falter. “S’okay dove, let go for me.” Thats all you needed to absolutely fall apart on top of your boyfriend, his own Orgasm following soon after.

One satisfying and much needed shower later Simon was tucking you into bed and pulling you close to him. As you drifted off to sleep you could hear him mutter about how well you did and how good you could be for his boys.

[freelancearsonist]

salt, shot, lime

➔ Dieter Bravo x afab!Reader

➔ 2.3k words

➔ You meet your celebrity crush in a bar; he turns out to be a lot more fun than you expected.

➔ Rated MA for protected p in v, public sex acts/public nudity (they fuck in a bar y’all), body shots/alcohol consumption, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart) // reader has female anatomy (afab - no pronouns used), wears a bra, is generally able-bodied but is otherwise a blank slate.

“Go on. Don’t be shy.”

Your fingers work slowly at the buttons of your blouse, so readily and eagerly baring yourself to this man who–for all intents and purposes–is a complete stranger.

He’s familiar, though; to you, not the other way around. Dieter Bravo lives very publicly, after all. You follow him on Instagram and Twitter; you see bits and pieces of his life throughout yours. When he approached you at the bar, he had no clue who you were. But you knew him.

And now he’s eyeing you over the rims of his sepia-lensed sunglasses, ringed fingers idly tracing the rim of the empty shot glass that sits on the counter next to him. He looks at you like he wants to know you, and that’s exactly why you’re in this position.

This is crazy. This shouldn’t be happening at all. But he’s hot, and he’s interested in you. And you’re not nearly drunk enough to not understand the risks and consequences associated.

You can see the gulp that traces down his throat as you set your shirt on the counter and it gives you the willpower you need to keep from crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself. Dieter fucking Bravo is effected just from this simple view of you in your cute yet simple bra, and it’s the headiest confidence boost you’ve ever received.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” His voice is breathless, lips parted in awe. “Fuck.”

The bartender clearing his throat and setting down a tray next to Dieter’s right hand is enough to snap the actor out of his dazed reverie. Dieter clears his throat and wrenches his eyes away from your half-naked torso, scanning the contents of the tray before humming his satisfaction.

“Ready, honey?” He asks, and you hum your approval as you lean back over the bar.

This is the first time you’ve done this, and you don’t think Dieter follows standard protocol. Or maybe he does—it’s not like you would really know, this isn’t your typical Saturday night activity—but there’s hardly anything that can be called standard about the way his wet tongue laves quickly and wetly over your sternum to give the salt something to stick to. Just that little bit of contact is enough to make you squirm, and it takes every out of restraint you possess to sit still for him as he pours the shot into the dip of your belly button.

It’s messy and sticky and not very comfortable, especially when you position the lime between your lips, but you’ve never been so turned on in your life.

He gives you a look—dark and pleading—and you take a deep, aroused breath as you nod your consent.

Again, his tongue is between your breasts, but this time it’s languid. He takes his time and flattens the length of the muscle against your skin to collect every last grain of salt.

Then he purses his lips and slurps the tequila from your belly button—but really, all you can focus on in the moment is the weight of his hand resting dangerously high on your thigh under the guise of steadying himself. His fingertips are so close yet so achingly far from where you’re wettest, and the smirk on his face says he knows it.

Finally, after a moment that seems to last at least three years, he moves up your body and bites into the lime waiting between your lips.

With him this close you can smell the heady, woodsy scent of his cologne, and it only serves to turn you on further as he sucks the juice from the tart fruit.

The way he takes the lime from you with his teeth and spits it out on the countertop should be a crime but you really can’t be fucked about it because suddenly he’s kissing you. You could isolate all three flavors on his tongue if you cared to, but you don’t in the slightest. All you can really focus on is those hands as they slide up your sides and come to rest at the base of your skull, thumbs swiping simultaneously over your cheeks to anchor you while he licks deeper into your mouth.

The cocky bastard actually smirks against your lips when you moan. The sound is soft but it only serves to motivate him; he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth like he’s trying to lick your molars as your hands wind around his neck to tug him closer to you.

And then, just as suddenly as he started kissing you, he pulls away.

“Your turn, sweetheart.” There’s just a faint little smirk to his lips, but it’s enough to make you want to smack him. It’s also enough to make you want to suck him so deep into your throat that he never fully recovers.

And fuck, you really want to tell him fuck it and ask if he wants to get out of here, but you also want to give him a taste of his own medicine.

You nod to the bartender, who sets down another shot for you. And then you nod to Dieter’s chest, and he starts tugging his baggy shirt over his head without a word.

He’s pretty. You’ve always admired his physique, sure, but it’s even better in person. There’s an unkempt quality to the smattering of hair on his lower stomach, and the soft curve of his belly has you eager to get your hands on him.

You haven’t even gotten your shot yet, but you’re hoping and praying that he’ll want to drag you into the bathroom to have his way with you after this.

He leans back and lets you prep him–smiling slightly at how careful and neat you are about laying the salt and pouring the shot. There’s a tender reverence in your touch that makes his heart pound in a way it hasn’t in years.

“You good?” You ask, looking into his dark eyes when he takes off his sunglasses, neatly folds them, and sets them on the bar.

You watch his throat bob around a thick swallow, and then he nods; and you can’t help the sick satisfaction you feel over how breathless he already is. Too easy.

You make a point of dragging your nails over his treasure trail, under the guise of steadying yourself, as you lick the salt from his firm chest. You spend a little more time there than strictly necessary; but you want to get him clean, after all. And if your tongue trails off course to drag over a taut nipple–

“Oh, fuck!” His voice is muffled from the lime wedge perched between his lips; he’s so sensitive that his hips actually jolt at your ministration, but your hand on his lower belly steadies him to assure his shot isn’t wasted. “Baby that’s not fair–”

His protest is breathy and trails off into a useless little whine when you move down to suck the tequila from his belly button. You can actually see the way his cock springs to life under his trousers in your peripheral vision, and you think you deserve an award. A big world cup-style trophy, with an inscription that reads “I made Dieter Bravo hard just from licking his fucking belly button”.

He spits the lime out before you even get a chance to taste it, but that’s okay because you’d rather taste him anyway.

His grip is firm as he cups your face in his big, meaty hands and pulls your lips to his. There’s a desperation to this kiss–a frantic meeting of lips and tongue and teeth as he tries to pull you closer to him than it’s physically possible to be. And you let him, let him take everything you so desperately want in return as you feel the scratch of his beard against your chin and the firm grip of his hands guiding the angle of your head.

“W-we should… take this somewhere more private,” you pant when you finally muster the courage to pull back for air.

He shakes his head, and you feel a twist of disappointment in your gut. But then he looks over your shoulder; you hear a deep, guttural voice–and before you know it, the entire bar is empty. Not a soul in sight, not even the bartender

“This private enough for you, honey?”

You nod dumbly, still kind of starstruck over such a powerful display of the way the entire world dances to Dieter Bravo’s tune.

He pulls you in for another deep kiss, this time backing you up into the bar counter. You can feel the insistent press of his arousal against your hip like this, and it makes you moan needily into his open mouth.

“Wanna fuck you,” he murmurs into his mouth, rolling his hips against you in a way that makes you moan again. “Please baby, lemme fuck you.”

“Fuck me,” you murmur back with a nod.

You’re definitely not normally the type that would strip down completely in the middle of a bar to fuck some man you just met, but there’s something about him that has you disregarding all common decency to toss aside your bra and wiggle out of your jeans so he can see every inch of your exposed skin.

It’s all worth it for the pleased moan he makes when he takes you in with his eyes, hungrily eating up miles and miles of flesh that he wants to touch and kiss and appreciate. But there’s not enough time, not here; so he lifts you up sideways onto the bar like you’re weightless and then presses you to lay down flat against the counter top, completely ignoring the sticky glass-sweat rings that press little cold patches into your flesh.

You get a good view of him as he loses the rest of his clothes, flinging them to the corners of the room with a ferocity that makes you giggle. The sound brings a smile to his face, too; and then he jumps up onto the sturdy bar counter with you, spreading your legs with eager hands so he can slot his hips between yours as he continues to kiss you.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he grumbles as he shamelessly ruts his hard cock against your wetness–his voice is so deep it’s almost gravelly. And then he produces a little foil packet from seemingly thin air and winks at you like a hammy cartoon character. “Safety first.”

He’s so silly it’s sexy, and he laughs with you as he presses his lips back to yours. He fumbles a little bit as he tries to roll the condom onto his impressive length while simultaneously kissing you, so you reach down with steady hands to help him; he whimpers at the way you take his girth into your hands and so easily sheathe him.

“M’not gonna last long,” he whispers as he lines up with your entrance, and you’re surprised he can’t actually feel the way it makes your cunt sob with arousal.

“That’s okay,” you reassure, one hand coming to tug firmly at the curls that compose the nape of his neck. “Just make it good.”

He nods, gently bites at your lower lip, and then he thrusts into you smoothly all the way to the hilt.

There’s a bit of a stretch to accommodate him and it makes you moan; the feeling of your tight heat sends a physical shudder down his spine.

“Oh, fuck–” he scoots his knees up further towards your ass, shoving himself as deep as he can get while simultaneously trying to let you adjust to his sudden intrusion. “Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good–”

You feel the slight scrape of his thick curls against your clit, and it yanks a desperate little moan from your lips. “Move, Dieter, fuck me–”

He’s nothing if not obedient. The first needy little thrust is hard enough to jolt your entire body–he scoops a hand under your head to soften the blow, and then he starts moving with reckless abandon.

It’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s desperate. He thrusts hard and deep into your soaked core, mouthing uselessly at your mouth and jaw, whimpering with each rut of his hips. He watches your face when he can actually keep his eyes open and finds the exact spot that makes you writhe and squirm underneath him, angling his hips to hit it with relentless accuracy.

He looks pussydrunk, it’s the only way to describe the expression created by his glassy eyes and his parted lips. He nuzzles his face in between your tits and looks up at you like you created the moon and the stars, like you’re something to revere. You’re scared that if he keeps looking at you like that, you’re going to fall in love with him.

“I’m close, Dieter…” you warn, the hand that's not clutching desperately at his messy hair reaching down to put your favorite kind of pressure on your clit.

He tilts his head down and watches to the best of his ability, making mental note of exactly how you like to be worked over–storing that information away for next time. He so desperately wants there to be a next time.

He feels it a second before you do and angles his hips just right to hit that toe-curlingly pleasurable spot right as you come. It sends you sky high, the way he pounds mercilessly into you while the pleasure ebbs and flows over you.

He comes hardly a minute later, grunting and whining and cursing under his breath as his balls draw up and he empties himself into the condom, shoved as deep inside you as he can physically get.

There’s a long, heavy moment of silence as you both pant and try to come down from the clouds. He scatters little feather-light kisses over your sweat-slicked chest, and then he looks up at you with those big brown puppy eyes you’re starting to adore.

“You wanna grab dinner?” He’s so earnest in asking, like he’s not balls-deep in your cunt right now.

It’s so ass-backwards that you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up your throat, but you don’t consider any other answer than, “Yeah, sure.”

It’s worth it just to see the smile that lights up his face. “Amazing.”

➔ dividers: @saradika-graphics

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[booksooks]

"𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑭𝑰𝑫𝑬 𝑭𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑨𝑻, 𝑩𝑶𝑿 𝑴𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹"

Author's Note: i want him to eat me out til im seeing noise and hearing what tequila tastes like. yes the title is from rah tah tah by mr the creator

Content: Pussy eating!!!

Word Count: 355

Summary: Dabi eats BAWX there i said it

It's no secret that Dabi loves sex. To be fair to him, he definitely knows how to make you feel good, so you can't complain. He knows every trick, every position to make you squirm and gasp, writhing in pleasure as he pumps you full of his unnaturally hot cum.

So yeah, you really can't complain when very often you end the night in bliss as Dabi somewhat haphazardly cleans your thighs up and tucks you under the blankets. He doesn't usually stay.

However, on cold winter nights, when Dabi's feeling particularly giving, (you would use the word kind, but Dabi and his ‘idea of kindness’ mix together about as well as oil and water) he will eat you out like a dying man. He’ll push you back into your pillows, throw your legs over his shoulders, and bury his face between your thighs to slurp needily at your pussy for hours.

The entire ordeal leaves you dripping and your thighs tacky, much like what happens when Dabi rails you until your cunt is numb, and if Dabi's tongue lapping up your slick didn't feel so good that it made your back arch, you'd be sure that the wet bedding beneath your bare ass would be cold and uncomfortable. 

But it does feel that good, and Dabi doesn't seem to mind holding you almost upside down in midair as he tongue fucks you and noses at your clit, making your legs twitch and kick out into the empty space around his head. And Dabi, goaded on by your moans and whimpers and whines, just does not stop, not when you're crying, not when you're gasping for breath as your nth orgasm rips through you with a blinding heat. No, Dabi only stops when he wants to, your slick dripping down his chin and neck, even trailing down between his collarbones if he gets you to squirt. And he does, because he'll be damned if he backs away from a challenge.

So yes, it's safe to say Dabi loves sex. It's also safe to say that, on occasion, he loves eating box just a bit more. 

End Notes: ty for reading! my requets are OPEN!

ABSOLUTELY NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK TO ANY SITE.

[tarithenurse]

Shots

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader. Word count: 3219. Oops. Content: Alcohol and drinking/drunkenness, unrealistic hangovers, unprotected smut (be smarter than them, pls). Unbetaed as usual. A/N: So on an unrelated note...I was able to do groceries yesterday without having a panic attack! Yay! Go me!

Shots

The taste is mainly sweet but there’s a twang of sourness that makes the edge of your tongue curl...or maybe that’s the alcohol but there’s no burn anymore as you swallow, lifting the empty shots glass into the air as proof of your deed. Around you, your girlfriends cheer – all holding up their own empty glasses too.

Out on the dance floor, people are swaying and grinding to the beat that has held the same sway over you most evening and you’re eager to rejoin the masses. It’s a party after all and you’re young and gorgeous wanting to make the most of it.

“I think he’s looking at you!” Melissa squeals in your ear, drawing your attention to a man at the other end of the bar.

For a second your eyes meet but you look away quickly – though not too quickly to notice that he’s hot. Dark and broody, stubbles peppering his square jaw. He’s button-up is tight across his shoulders and arms, making it possible to see his muscles.

“Hey Buck!” you hear the bartender yell at him, tossing a beer his way, “fancy seeing you here on a night off.”

Buck. It’s gotta be short of something but you addled mind can’t figure out what. It doesn’t matter anyways as Brittney has decided that you’ve been standing still long enough and she’s now ushering all of your group back on the floor.

--- The world goes black ---

The lights are blurring as you tip your head back, gunning the tequila. The world spins gently, making you almost trip up as you bounce to the beat of the music.

“One more!” Melissa grabs your hand, smearing the lemon onto it before drizzling generously with salt. Another shot – you’re not sure if you dislike the alcohol or the lemon the most but it doesn’t matter because you have half a daiquiri left which you eagerly slurp through the straw.

--- The world goes black ---

Melissa had been tugging at your sleeve a bit ago but now you can’t find her. Maybe she’s outside.

--- The world goes black ---

There’s a deep rumble of an engine. Your view of the city is slanted and restricted to the narrow space of the car’s window. For a moment you wonder if the girls have gotten a cap, but you can’t hear their usual chatter.

--- The world goes black ---

You lie for a moment and just feel the mattress beneath you before you open your eyes because something doesn’t add up: how did you get home and into bed? Wringing your brain, there are waaaaay to many gaps in your memory to be comfortable.

It doesn’t help to open your eyes. Instead of the soft greys and blues of your makeshift canopy above the bed, you see bare ceiling and fear creeps into you like a sneaking cold. Turning your head, your suspicion in confirmed when the bedside table is different too. Sitting up with a jolt, you regret your actions as your head thrums but you are quick to ignore that as another revelation pins you in place: everything but your undies and bra is gone!

Scrambling to gather the covers over your chest, you look around for answers and notice a piece of paper on the bedside table. Taking it with shaking hands, you begin to read the jagged handwriting, fearing the worst:

“Where are you? You’re in my apartment – I couldn’t get your address out of you and I don’t know where your purse is.

Who’s apartment? My name’s Bucky. I’m a bouncer at the club you were at with your friends.

Where are your friends? I honestly don’t know...try to call them.

Where’s your phone? It was on the bedside table, try to look in the bed if it’s not there anymore.

Where’s your clothes? In the dryer in the bathroom (door to the right – there are fresh towel laid out for you).

PS. The pills are just aspirins, take them with the water.

PPS. If you just want to leave without a word, that’s cool – otherwise I’m back at noon.”

That’s when you notice the bottled water and the tablets still in their blister foil and you suddenly realize that your head still is throbbing. And you’re thirsty. Moments later the aspirins are gone with half the water and you set to the task of finding your phone.

The screen on your phone is cracked in the corner, a tell that you must have dropped it at some point in the night, but it still works well enough to show that you’ve got a couple of missed calls and texts in the group chat from Brittney and Melissa and you quickly type in a response:

“I’m fine. Just woke up. Not at home but at the bouncer?”

You also send a picture of the scribbled note.

Lowering your phone, you take in the surroundings for the first time. The place is tidy with one wall covered in a wardrobe with sliding doors and a window on the opposite wall with grey curtains. The bed you’re kneeling in is a queen size and made with matching grey linens, the sheet folded down tight even after use. The bedside table on the other side holds an old timey alarm-clock that reads 11:47 and a book – Lord of the Rings, of all things.

Getting out of the bed, phone clutched to your chest, you tiptoe to the door on the right. Opening it, you’re granted a view of a worn but clean bathroom and a wash/dryer tower where the dryer waits lazily to be emptied. There’s also a sink with a towel folded and resting on...and a mirror that shows off just what a mess you are.

Making a quick decision, you shed the rest of your clothes and step into the shower.

Oh, it feels heavenly as the hot water sprays onto you. Scrubbing as best you can (even borrowing a bit of shower gel and shampoo even though the scent is like pinewood rather than the usual flowers), you begin to feel like a real person again as if the anxiety is washed away with the sweat and the makeup.

It’s when you’ve stepped out of the shower and are half done drying that you hear it: footsteps.

Leaning against the bathroom door with baited breath, you can hear the steps in the bedroom. You hear them near the door. Hear them stop.

“Hey?” They voice is gentle albeit raspy.

“H-hi....uhm...”

There’s a soft hum. “Take your time. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You try to put a face to the voice. Bucky. Buck. A foggy memory of a man at the end of the bar surfaces. Handsome. No, scratch that. Hot.

You hear the footsteps pick up again and something spurs you on to say through the door: “Thank you! I...” You what? Got shitfaced and needed to be saved? “Thank you...”

“No problem.”

The footsteps trail away and you hurry drying yourself off. Considering this morning after, you’re happy you’d opted for jeans last night but the top is still worryingly skimpy for a Sunday morning in a stranger’s home. But there’s nothing to do about it.

Exiting the bathroom, you cross to the only other door and find yourself entering a compact but cozy living room slash kitchen. A tall set of windows let the city air in on a breeze, a few IKEA pictures hang on the walls, matching the rest of the interior and clashing wonderfully with the man standing by the stove with the back to you.

“I’m making omelette...in case you want some,” he offers, still not looking to you.

He’s wearing grey sweats and a tight white t-shirt that allows you to admire his back and the full sleeve tattoo on his left arm.

“Thank you but -” you start, only to be interrupted by a loud growl of your stomach that must have picked up the scent of the deliciousness he’s cooking.

You can see his shoulders shake a little at a suppressed laugh. “That’s what I figured. Plates are in the left, tall cupboard. Cutlery top drawer.”

Silently, you find the things and set the table. Then you start making coffee, causing Bucky to hum softly at the scent. It’s...cozy. Domestic. And every chance you get, you look at him. He has a gorgeous profile, you decide, especially when he smiles.

Eventually, you’re sitting at the table across from each other.

Scooping up some of the omelette (with cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, bell pepper, and cheese), you decide to eat rather than ask what you want but even with your eyes fixed on the food, you’re annoyingly aware that it’s Bucky’s turn to study you.

“You got a hold of your friends?” he asks.

You nod – and it’s partially true. The texts from them was from late last night where they’d made it home, asking if you’d gotten lucky. After that? Nothing. It makes you wonder if you’d tried anything with anyone – with Bucky.

“They okay?” he asks again.

“Hopefully they got a hangover for ditching me,” it pops out of you.

He smiles crookedly and something stirs in your belly. “I’m amazed that you’re doing this well considering how bad off you were.”

You shrug. “Maybe one day it’ll hit me.” You watch him scoop up a mouthful. “Do you normally take in drunks?”

“Gotta admit it’s a first for me,” he admits.

“Why did you?”

Something dark moves over his face. “Let’s just say...the alternative would have haunted me.”

Something tells you that you don’t want to know. Sipping the coffee, you allow the warmth to push aside the anxiety. “I remember you...at the end of the bar.”

“Oh so you remember something!” he smiles crookedly again. “I was so close to come over to you then.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’d have felt I’d be taking advantage of you.”

“...still got stuck with me.”

His grey eyes flash as he takes you in. “Well...maybe we can have a do-over?”

You set down the mug, trying to gauge his mood. “Isn’t this it?”

An eyebrow raises. “Don’t mind if it...but don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

“I don’t.”

“You can walk away if you want.”

“I said,” you intone sharply before softening up again, “I don’t.”

Surging forward, his lips crash onto yours, tongue soon sweeping along the seem of your mouth, making you sigh and open for him.

You slowly drive him backwards, following eagerly with a hand gripping in his hair and nails raking the scalp gently. His hands are on you, warm and slow as the trace from your hips to your waist and on until you grab his wrists and remove his touch from you. He could easily fight against the weak force you exert but he doesn’t, instead letting you have this power over him.

Pulling away, you see how they grey of his eyes is reduced to a thin circle. His chest is rising rapidly but in a steady rhythm and you want to see more.

“Take it off.” You tug at his t-shirt.

Obeying without a fuss, you’re happy to see that the tight shirt had promised only what it could deliver: a strong physique with lean and defined muscles and you’re ready to wager that it’s all natural, either from plenty of gym-time or maybe even some unfair meddling by mother nature herself. Either way, you’re happy to let your fingertips dance over his pecs and abs, causing goosebumps to follow in their wake.

“Pants too,” you decide.

“Seems a bit one-sided, princess,” he points out though his hands already are on the low-riding waistbands of the sweats.

“Considering how I was dressed when I woke up, I think you had a head start.”

He smiles crookedly. “Fair point.”

Standing just enough to slide the pants down the ass, Bucky makes good on your request. Thick thighs...and a thick bulge that strains his boxers and makes your cunt heat.

You’re on your knees before you know it, maybe hitting the floor a tad too hard but who cares as long as you get to slide your hands up his thighs and body. Reversing, your nails dance lightly across his tan skin before your fingers hook on the waistband of the boxers.

But this is as far as Bucky lets you get. Snatching your wrists, he breathes in deeply.

“You sure, princess?”

You meet his gaze calmly. “Yes.”

Slowly letting go, he watches you palm his erection through the elastic fabric. Watches as you pull at the scrap of clothing with one hand while reaching in and pulling him out with the other.

He’s big. The foreskin is still pulled over the tip so all you can see is a dot of angry red beneath a sheen of pre-cum.

“Here, let me,” he mumbles, lifting off the chair and pulling the boxers to his knees, allowing you to get the off the rest of the way.

Sitting naked on the chair, legs wide and balls resting on the seat, he’s a sight to behold. His cock leans upwards bobbing as he breathes in deeply.

Wrapping a hand around it, you testingly slide your fist up and down, eventually freeing his cock-head which you kitten-lick, causing the man to shudder. Salty. Another lick, this time longer and more pronounced, makes him groan – and devilish as you are, you grant him no warning before taking him in your mouth and suckling.

In your periphery, you see his arms flail and hands bunch into fists but he doesn’t touch you because you have once made it clear that he couldn’t. In lack of anything else to grasp, he holds on to the seat of the chair, knuckles whitening as you find a rhythm with your hand and mouth, cheeks hollowed as you suckle and lick what you can reach.

He’s heavy on your tongue. There’s a vein throbbing along the underside of the shaft. Whenever you tease the frenulum, his breath hitches.

Your free hand has been resting on his thigh but now you reach for his balls to roll them in your fingers and tug gently as they keep travelling up.

“Too good,” he warns, “gotta stop, princess.”

Pulling of with a plop, you bat your lashes at him innocently. “Stop? Or switch?”

His face lights up. “Thought you’d never let me.”

Scooping you up, he marches into the bedroom and tosses you unceremoniously on the bed before following. Crawling over you, he kisses your stomach until he reaches the hem of your top and he drags it over your head so he can bury his face in your cleavage. Kissing and biting, he manages to multitask enough to loosen the bra and (although that means pulling back for a moment) pull it off you.

“Fucking amazing,” he purrs at the sight of your tits.

Cupping one breast, his lips find the nipple of the other, bestowing a single feather light kiss to it that makes your skin pucker.

Then he descends, lavishing kisses and little bites wherever he reaches until his hands slide down your sides and around to the closing of your jeans. He’s fast, ravenous – one moment you’re half dressed and the next you’re lying completely naked and exposed before him.

And it feels good.

You reach for him, wanting him close and he accepts, keeping his body suspended on an elbow so as not to crush you while the other hand is occupied, gentle fingers stroking your folds and spreading the juices that have already gathered.

“I want you,” you whisper.

“Right here, princess,” Bucky replies with a crooked smile that evaporates as he slides his cock along your slit.

It’s a stretch but one that makes your toes curl in delight as he fills you up slowly until his hips are slotted against yours and there’s no more room to occupy for him.

Eyes screwed shut, he breathes heavily for a few seconds before finally meeting your heavy-lidded gaze and setting a slow and steady pace. Rocking into you, he somehow drags along the right spots and you feel yourself clamp down on him, causing him to gasp.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he growls.

His head dips to the crook of your neck where he bites softly as he ups the pace.

Your own hands are gripping him tight, nails digging into his muscles. You’re desperate to keep him close, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him even deeper and keep him with you. In record time the heavy heat in your abdomen grows and consumes you, threatening to burst at any moment and you cry out for him to go just a bit faster and a little bit harder.

Instead he pulls out.

Empty, your cunt flutters around nothing as you blink to get him into clear view.

“Wha-?”

He shakes his head. “Too damn good.”

But Bucky proves himself yet again to be a gentleman: going down on you, he holds your thighs wide with his elbows while he busies both mouth and a hand to make sure that you don’t miss out on much and with a few tight circles of his thumb and the broad licks of a strong tongue, he’s got your trembling once more. Your hands are in his hair. Your legs are shaking, back arching. A guttural moan rips from you as you teeter on the very edge, so close to ultimate bliss but somehow unable to take the tumble.

“I need you, Buck,” you whine.

He hums against you, making you try to curl up as you’re so so so close. But you need his cock.

“Please!” you beg.

“Fuck.”

Pulling away, he doesn’t wipe his mouth as he gets up on his knees pulling by your hips so your cunt rises to meet his cock. The new angle, the fullness, it’s too much. Even with the head down, you know you’ll be done for in a few strokes and Bucky proves you right as he rams into you, hard and deep – moments later you come with a cry as your body seizes with ecstasy and you see white.

Each thrust a new moan is pushed from you lungs, prolonging bliss but not for long as Bucky’s hips falter in their rhythm and he too groans deeply.

For a moment he holds you still, allowing you to feel each throb of his cock inside you but eventually he collapses onto the bed with you, barely preventing himself from flattening you by letting go of your hip with a hand. You’re both breathing heavily, bodies covered in a light dew of sweat.

“Damn, princess,” he gasps.

“Says you...”

You can feel him softening slightly inside you, his cum seeping past his cock and probably making a mess out of the sheets.

“Just...give me a few and I’ll treat you better,” he mumbles as he pulls out and rolls off you.

Lying next to you, chest rising and falling, you can help but roll into his arm and put your head there so you can hear your heart.

“That a promise?” you ask sweetly.

“Oh yeah...I’m not done with you anytime soon.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Compotation

Warnings: non/dubcon, coercion and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Compotation - a drinking or tippling together. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

The world is awash with ripples. You feel heavy and light at once. The slosh in your stomach weighs you down as your head feels hollow.  

You focus on measuring out the shot of tequila. You splash a little as you dump it into the bigger glass and add grapefruit juice and a bit of fizzy water. You swallow a belch and slam down the can, spilling even more onto the counter. You’re too angry, and tipsy, to care about any of it. 

Knock, knock, knock. Fuckkkkk. It’s probably the neighbour come to whine about your music. It’s not even that loud. And it’s good music. Well, she can go rot with your boyfriend. Maybe even soon to be ex. 

You take your drink with you to the door. Your fuzzy pants brush together warmly as coolness spreads over your exposed midriff. It’s too bad Bucky didn’t stay long enough to appreciate your new pajamas. No, you told him to go. No, good... 

Maybe it’s him. He is so forgetful you wouldn’t put it past him to forget his own damn keys. You open the door, ready to bluster at neighbour and boyfriend alike. Your mouth hangs open as your met with a third unexpected option. 

“Sam,” you blub out like a fish. “Oh, hey. He’s not here.” 

“Oh,” he tilts his head, “figures. He’s not answering my texts. What’s going on? Party?” 

He looks at your drink and you scoff. You take a deep gulp of the alcohol laced juice. You should slow down but you won’t. You don’t do this. No, you behave. You do everything Bucky tells you and he can’t do just one thing. One. Thing. 

“Sure is,” you slur. “Party of one. I’ll tell him you stopped by when he drags himself home.” 

Before you can close the door, he puts his hand against it, his strength easily blocking your own. You blink at him. 

“What did he do?” He hums. 

You roll your eyes, “what do you care? You’re his friend.” 

“Oh, ouch. Kitten, I thought we were friends.” 

“Mm, well, I guess,” you shrug. 

“So, what are friends for, huh? Why don’t you tell me all about that deadbeat?” He smirks and smoothly edges his way inside. You don’t stop him. You could use the company. 

You back up and blow a raspberry as you play back the argument that turned into Bucky yelling and you just a staring blankly. Then he left. No apology. No nothing. Somehow, you became the guilty party. 

“He forgot our anniversary,” you grumble. “You know, just what he does. He can tell me what battle happened on what day, but he can’t remember our first date.” 

“He forgot? Jesus, now how could he forget a girl like you?” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about it,” you pause and slurp again. “You want a drink? You know, he can’t get drunk. He sucks down those beers for what? Because he likes the taste of piss?” You sneer. 

Sam snickers. 

“What?” You bluster. 

“Nothing, I just... I’ve never seen you angry.” 

“Yeah, well, I've been too accepting,” you spit. “So you wanna drink? Tequila and grapefruit. Or I have some peach juice.” 

You lick the moisture from your lips and sway on your feet. 

“Uh, sure, might as well,” he accepts. 

“Uno momento,” you hold up a finger and drain your glass. You let out a long aaah as you finish then stagger into the kitchen. Are you leaning or are the walls? 

You take out another glass. “Hey, grapefruit or--” you lower your voice as he enters the kitchen, “peach.” 

“Mm, peach sounds sweet,” he says as he unzips his jacket. He hangs it on the back of one the tall chairs along the island. You hate them. You told Bucky they’re too high. 

“Coming right up,” you declare. 

You pour the drinks with a bit more care than before. Yet, your hands are just as clumsy. When at last you present him with a glass, it’s dripping. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Hey, his loss.” Sam says as he turns and waves you out ahead of him. “I mean, old man should be ecstatic to hang out with a girl like you. He don’t know what he’s got.” 

“No, he doesn’t,” you agree as you strut out into the front room. “You know, I didn’t even ask him to do anything. I set the date, I called the venue... he can’t even show up!” 

“Aw, baby,” Sam sits with you on the couch. He takes a small sip as you swig back a mouthful. “That’s not fair. You deserve better than that.” 

“I do,” you force yourself to put the cup down as you stomach stirs hotly. You wipe your sticky hands on your pajamas. He surprises you as his fingers wander over to touch the fuzzy fabric.  

“Soft,” he comments, “he’s really missing out.” 

“You like them? They’re new,” you look down at the crop top and pants. 

“Soft and cute. Like you, kitten,” he drawls and reaches to put his glass next to yours.  

Your head bobbles dizzily as you give a long blink. He continues to pet your pants, feeling the fluffiness. You can feel his touch beneath. It makes your skin hot. 

“You okay, baby?” He asks. 

You pout and shake your head. Your anger rolls into sadness, “no,” you sniffle as tears rise to the brims of your eyes, “no. Why doesn’t he care?” 

“Aw, honey,” he stretches his arm across your back and you fall against him, burying your face in his shoulder, “it’s okay. I got you.” 

“I tried so hard,” you snivel into his shirt as he rubs your back. His other hand cradles your head as he rocks and hushes you. “What am I gonna do? We signed a lease. We—we—I don’t think there’s any we--” 

His hand creeps down to your neck and he extends his thumb under your jaw. He nudges you up as he draws away. He slides his hand under your chin and you flick your lashes against your tears. Before your vision can clear, his lips are on yours. 

You push against his chest as you squeak in surprise. What is he doing? You tear your mouth away and gasp. 

“Sam!” You sputter. 

“Mm, he doesn’t deserve you, baby. Come on, let me show you what you need--” 

“What-- why--” you gulp. “No, I can’t.” 

“Kitten,” his hand falls down to your ass, “when’s the last time he even fucked you? I know you’re not all worked up just because a fight.” 

You blanch and push your lip out. How does he know? You shake your head. “No, that’s not...” 

“How long, baby?” He puts both hands on your hips and grips, kneading down to your thighs. 

“No--” 

“A month?” 

You look away as your eyes gloss over once more. 

“Longer?” 

You shiver and grab his hands. 

“Two... three...” 

You shake as you cling to him, “please, Sam--” 

“Six months? That’s it, right? Little longer?” 

“How--” you choke on your unintended confession. “No, Sam.” 

“I’m gonna treat you right, just relax,” he purrs. 

“I can’t. I love him,” you insist. 

“He doesn’t love you if he ain’t touching you,” he lurches your hips and easily puts you on your back. He shifts so that his knee is on the couch and drags the other up beside it. “Fuck, kitten, look at you,” he runs his hands up and down your thighs, “all dressed up for me, huh?” 

“Sammy, please--” 

“Mm, yes, keep calling me Sammy, baby,” his nails graze the fabric and he fingers curl around the elastic. 

You groan and press your hand to your forehead as your vision thrums. Your temples pound and your heart races in panic. You’re too drunk. 

He tugs and strips the pants past your ass. You whimper and throw your arm out. 

“Sammy... I... don’t feel good.” 

Your eyes roll back under your eyelids. You take deep breaths as you try to sober yourself. It only adds to the swirling sensation. Your legs raze with goosebumps as he frees your ankles from the elastic tails of the pajamas. You shiver and arch your back, exposed and weak. 

He growls as a rustle stirs the air and the fabric heaps noisily on the floor. He grabs your leg and bends it, leaning it against the back of the couch. He pulls your other over the edge as the couch jostles beneath him. You blink and see his blurry figure looming over you as he bends over your pelvis. 

You twitch and whine as he flutters his fingers along your folds. Your thighs tense. Your foot dangles just over the floor as your other sinks into the crack behind the cushion. Sam lowers himself as you retreat behind your eyelids. 

His breath fans over you as he hums and hovers over your pussy. He purrs and nuzzles the patch of hair. You moan and reach down blindly. He grabs your hand and shoves it back and slides his tongue between your lips. You gasp and spasm. 

He swipes his tongue again. You groan and your head falls to one side. You tilt your hips as he tends to you slowly, dragging up over your clit in long strokes before flicking back down. 

Shame speckles over you as you remember who he is. What he’s doing. This is Sam. This is Bucky’s best friend. Your friend. You're just friends. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as you dig down into denial. This isn’t real. Your drunk. This is all just the twisted delusion of your alcohol-laden mind. It’s not Sam making you feel so delicious. It’s Bucky. It’s Bucky. It can’t be anyone else. 

He reaches up your stomach, tickling your bare skin, and slides his fingers beneath the bottom of your top. He fondles your chest as he laps at your hungrily. You moan and clasp onto his hand. It’s so good. So good it has to be Bucky. 

You roll your hips in time with his tongue. You reach down with your other hand to push his head down. You need the release. It’s been so long since you got more than the fleeting pleasure of your vibrator. The warmth, the eagerness, the need in his touch enthralls you. 

You murmur and mewl as your thighs tingle and your spine zing. You’re almost there. You feel the tension twisting tighter, tighter, tighter. You flex your feet as you tilt your hips frantically and cling to his head. 

Your orgasm spills over and you cry out, “oh, Bucky, Bucky....” 

He sucks on your clit as your climax crests and dissipates in a smattering of nerves. You huff and heave as you yawling turns to gibberish. His breath is damp as he pants against your leg before slowly raising himself. 

He grabs your jaw and sets your head straight. Sam’s voice cuts through your fantasy. Your eyes round as you stare up at his dire expression. He shoves down his jeans impatiently as he squeezes until your bones ache. 

He bends over, resting his hard dick against your cunt, and rocks against you. He smears his length along your wet folds, thrusting slowly, just enough to thrum but not enough to stoke anything more. You wriggle and whine. 

“Forget him, kitten,” he continues his deliberate thrusts, “you’ll be begging for me and only me soon enough.” 

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: the before, drabble 1 (kth)

summary: After a night of drinking, you make some comments to Taehyung that makes him reconsider his relationship with you.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw (for the drabble, series is 18+)

genres: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol use, unrequited love, jungkook isn't physically present in this one yet still manages to throw in some nonsense

a/n: this is the first drabble for my things we don't say series! shoutout to @btsborahaee for asking me if tae had ever taken care of oc while drunk and sparking this entire idea. not mandatory reading for the series per se, but definitely gives a lot of insight for some upcoming events <3 (can probably be read on its own for new folks, but you'll likely be missing some context)

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

He probably should’ve stopped you.

Should’ve stopped you when Jimin offered you tequila shots at the beginning of the night (he knows that you always complain about the crash).

Should’ve stopped you when Jungkook challenged you to a round of beer pong and you surprisingly agreed (Jungkook is an ace, and you’ve always been a lousy shot).

Definitely should’ve stopped you when your friends began a game of truth or dare, and you convinced him to play with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip (you looked so cute that he pretended he would’ve been able to resist you in the first place just to see you keep making that face).

Still, he tries to remind himself that you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions as he heaves you through the doorway into the three-bedroom apartment the two of you share with Jimin.

“Congratulations, you’ve successfully made it home,” he says, gingerly helping you settle into a spot on the couch. You immediately pull a throw pillow into your lap and hug it tight, slumping against the arm rest. “How are you feeling?”

“We live in a pool now,” you mumble, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What?”

“Everything swimming.”

He laughs, propping the other throw pillow against your side in a feeble attempt to ensure you stay upright before he heads to the kitchen to get you some water. “I know you may not believe me right now, but I can assure you we don’t live in a pool.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Your face has slipped further into the pillow. “I’m a scientist. I know things.”

“You’re majoring in Communications.”

“That’s a science.”

“A social science.”

“I say it counts, so it counts.”

“Well I won’t argue with that.” He makes his way back to you with quiet steps, crouching down so he’s at your eye level. “So, Miss Scientist--” A glass of water appears right in front of your nose. “—what does the science say about water intake after a long night of drinking?”

You giggle, pulling the glass from his hands so you can peer through it at him. “See? Pool.” He can’t hold back the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you snort-laugh over your own joke and cackle, “You’re a merman.”

“Yah,” he protests. “I don’t know that I’m pretty enough to be a merman. Mermen are pretty, yeah?”

And even louder snort. “Tae, you’re plenty pretty.”

His heart rebels with the tiniest pause. “Huh?”

“Plenty pretty. Also alliterative.” You burst out laughing at that one, rocking your body so suddenly that Taehyung worries you might spill your water. He reaches out to stabilize your hand, crushing down the teensy marble of hope that just plopped into his chest—a process that he’s well used to by now.

“You’re not seeing right or thinking right,” he says. “Just focus on drinking your water.”

One final giggle as you bring the glass to your lips, slurping loudly. “Chef Kim, you’ve done it again!” you declare, putting on a fake accent. “This is the finest glass of water I have ever had the pleasure of drinking! Three Michelin Stars!” Then you go back to slurping the water, two hands wrapped around the glass like a child.

Taehyung watches you tenderly, his right hand betraying him and drifting upwards to lightly skim your knee as you drink. Frankly, he’s just pleased that you’re managing to get it all in your mouth, and once you’ve swallowed the last drops (your head tilted all the way back), you gaze at him with hooded eyes.

“I sleepy.”

“I’m sure you are.” He takes the glass from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table before moving the pillows from your lap so he can help you up again, placing a steadying hand at your lower back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your bedroom where you immediately face plant onto the bed with a huff.

“Careful,” he warns. “Don’t want to jolt yourself and make yourself sick.”

“I do not fear vomit,” you say dramatically. “Only when it’s a stranger’s.” You pause to burp. “And only on Sundays.”

“Today is Sunday.”

You flip onto your back with a gasp. “SAY IT ISN’T SO.”

“It’s so.” He nods at you somberly, playing into the bit. “It’s past midnight, which means it is, in fact, Sunday.”

An arm is thrown across your eyes as you groan, "Oh noooooooo."

Taehyung chuckles to himself, rummaging through your dresser until he locates a pair of sleep shorts and a drawer full of t-shirts (he quickly closes another drawer when he catches a glimpse of panties). He picks through them, grinning at how many are souvenirs of events you've been to with him—concerts, festivals, and even a team shirt for a basketball game you'd accompanied him to freshman year. It'd been his idea, wanting to experience more of the city you'd moved to for school; you'd been skeptical at first but willing to go with him so he wasn't alone.

Two minutes in and your enthusiasm had quickly changed. Feeding off the energy of the crowd and the excitement of the game, you spent most of the time on your feet, bouncing up and down and cheering with every basket that was made. And though the game had been his idea, Taehyung found himself far less interested in what was happening on the court and instead spent the evening watching you, smiling from ear-to-ear every time you clapped your hands or yelled in delight. You’d pulled him by the hand to the team store afterwards, insistent on buying a shirt for your newfound team.

He grabs that shirt from the drawer and turns to find you lying in the same position on the bed, still as a stone. Your chest rises and falls with slow steady breaths, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep at first until you peek an eye out at him as he sets the clothes down next to you on the bed.

“Think you can get dressed by yourself?”

You raise yourself onto your palms, throwing him what seems to be your best drunken attempt at a sultry look. “You don’t want to help me?”

Taehyung’s body goes into an instant panic, half of his blood rushing to his face and the other half seeking a straight path south. “You—I—uh—“ he stammers before you burst into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around your middle and tilting sideways on the bed as you’re overcome with giggles. “You should see the look on your face!”

He feels the relief work through slowly, even as his heart continues to pound. “You really had a lot to drink tonight, huh?”

“Hmm, a lot,” you hiccup. “Not so much that I missed your look of horror when Kook dared us to kiss.”

It was during the game of truth or dare that you’d roped him into. Rather juvenile for a group of third-year college students, perhaps, but your group had gotten to the point of mindless drunken entertainment. On your turn, you’d asked for a dare, only for Jungkook to challenge you to make out with Taehyung for thirty seconds (“Minimum,” he’d added with a wiggle of his eyebrows). His blood pressure had spiked then too as he glared daggers at Jungkook, praying that you would refuse. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept of kissing you per se, but definitely not under those circumstances. And definitely not when you didn’t feel that way about him.

He was flooded with relief when you opted to take a shot instead.

“You looked terrified so I drank,” you say in the present, pushing out your lower lip in a pout. “Would kissing me really have been that bad?”

Yes, he thinks. But for reasons you wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t have survived it.

“Kook was just messing with us. It was a stupid joke, and you knew it. That’s why you drank.”

“I drank because you looked angry,” you press, and Taehyung worries that you’re genuinely hurt by the implied rejection. But that would mean— “We could kiss, and it would be fine. Here, look.” You sit up straight again, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in his direction.

Heat rushes to his face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss me.”

He’s shaking his head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N.” He laughs gently at your pouting face, lifting the clothes again so he can drop them into your lap this time. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk. Like I said, you’re not thinking right. I wouldn’t do that.” He taps your chin, directing your attention down. “Get yourself dressed. I’ll find you a bucket and more water.”

You grumble something he doesn’t understand on his way out of your room, still a little flustered from your conversation. It wasn’t like you to flirt with him. And suggesting he kiss you? No. That definitely must’ve been the alcohol talking. Over a decade’s worth of friendship with you, and it’s never seemed like you’ve even entertained the thought.

Still, he thinks to himself as he grabs you another glass of water before making a stop to the bathroom, could it be that drunk words are sober thoughts? Could this be his sign to try and see if there may be something more lingering under the surface of your friendsh—

He crushes down the idea as it occurs. He’s been through this line of thought before and, as always, knows that no good can come of it. There’s no doubt in his mind that you don’t feel for him like that. And he’ll be damned if he burdens you with his own feelings. It’s his own problem; he’s not going to put that on you to solve.

He retrieves a small pail, make-up wipe, and bottle of painkillers from the bathroom before making his way back to your bedroom. Not only have you changed into your pajamas, but you’ve also crawled into bed, the blanket pulled over your head with you huddled beneath it in a heap.

Taehyung sets down the water and medicine on your side table and places the pail on the floor beside your bed. Nudging at the covers, he says, “Poke your head out. We gotta get your makeup off.”

You roll onto your back, sticking your head out with a groan. “It’s fiiiiine,” you whine. “Jus’ leave it.”

“Your eyes will get irritated. I’ve got it.”

He wipes delicately at your face, a caress hidden in every sweep of his fingers. And once your skin has been wiped clean, he tucks you in properly, curled up on your side so he doesn’t need to worry about you rolling onto your back.

“There’s water and medicine here” he tells you. “And a bucket on the floor in case you need to throw up. Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Okay, if you need anything at all just shout. I’ll leave my door open.”

He’s turning to leave, thinking that’s the end of it when your voice calls out. Tiny.

“Tae?”

His focus is back on you in an instant, crouching down at your side ready to help. “What’s up?”

Your eyes are closed and you hum dreamily, fingers on the bed curling towards him. “You take such good care of me.”

Something wraps around his heart, squeezes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmmm.” You’re halfway asleep, breaths evening out. “You’ll be an incredible dad someday.”

His whole world stops, your words rocking him to his core. Because how do you just lay that on him so suddenly? So casually? One of his greatest fears and insecurities, eased instantly by the sound of your reassurances.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, tears stinging his eyes. But you’re already out, blissfully unaware of the effect you’ve just had on him.

He can’t help but watch you for a few minutes, gaze studiously tracing over your face like he may need to one day draw you from memory. You look so beautiful, so peaceful—every bit the angel he forever sees you as. Unable to help himself, he raises his hand to gently stroke a finger one, two, three times through your hair before tucking it back behind your ear. And something may just have grabbed ahold of him tonight because before he stands back up, he leans in to press the softest kiss to your forehead, lips lingering against your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

He leaves the room quietly, with one last peek over his shoulder at your sleeping form. Crossing the hall, he begins settling into his own bed wrangling a hurricane of thoughts: you, him, how he feels about you, the years you’ve spent together and how he desperately wants them to continue. And, with everything you’ve said tonight, he thinks that maybe—maybe—there wouldn’t be harm in testing the waters to see if you might want something more too. Throw a bit of that flirtatiousness back at you and see what happens.

He falls asleep smiling. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sound of chatter rouses Taehyung from his sleep the next morning as does the smell of bacon. He sits up, groggily runs a hand through his hair, and pads down the hall to find you, Jimin, and Maya sat around the dining room table.

“Oh yay, you’re alive,” Maya teases.

He gives her a quick raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“Alright, going to pretend that was way more enthusiastic and ignore the tone,” she responds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re supposed to go down to the park to work on that project for Dr. Kwon’s class, remember?”

“Ah shit, that’s today.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away more sleep. “Ok, let me eat and get dressed, and we can go.”

There's a crash in the kitchen, and Jimin, standing at the stove, calls out, "Uhhhh a little help?"

Maya rolls her eyes and stands to assist. "See, this is why we usually leave cooking to the professionals."

Taehyung laughs at their antics. Never a dull moment in this apartment. "Didn't feel like cooking this morning?" he asks, settling into the chair next to you.

You shake your head as you take a sip from the coffee mug in front of you. "No, Jimin wanted to do it. Said he wants to practice so he can impress that girl he's been seeing."

"Ah." He studies your face, suddenly remembering the way you'd asked him to kiss you last night.

"What?"

Your voice startles him out of the memory. "What?"

"You're looking at me funny," you say and take a swipe at one of your cheeks. "Something on my face?"

He's suddenly nervous, second-guessing his plan to test the waters with you. "No. Just wondering how you're feeling. You were...very drunk last night."

You blush. "Yeah, I don't remember much after I took that last shot, and you said it was time to go home." Scratching absent-mindedly behind your ear, you say, "I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing after that."

"No, you were fine," Taehyung says, before quickly rethinking his words. It seems like it's now or never. "Actually, there were a couple things you said that I wanted to ask about."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckles. "Just that—"

Your phone chimes loudly, and your gaze shoots to it, immediately snatching it into your hand as Maya bolts back over and squeals, “Is that him?!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, eyes roaming across the screen excitedly.

Taehyung licks his lips, caught entirely off-guard by this development. “Who is this?”

“Jace from my Marketing Psych class,” you say quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He asked her out this morning!” Maya adds with a pointed look at Taehyung that he doesn’t know how to interpret. His stomach twists, chest burns as every hope he’d had of asking you about last night dies on his tongue.

“Okay,” you say, looking up at Maya, completely oblivious to the suffering happening on your right. “Friday at that fancy Italian place on Fifth.” You slap a hand to your forehead. “We need to go shopping!”

“Of course we will!” Maya trills just as you turn back to Taehyung looking mildly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tae. You were saying something?”

He licks his lips again, internally cringing at the bitter taste. “No,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Your brow creases. “You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insists. “I already forgot what it was.”

You’re clearly not convinced but you relent, giving a tiny, “Okay,” as you watch him stand from the table, eyes now directed at Maya.

“Just give me five minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff, and we can go.”

“But you didn’t even eat,” you say.

He glances at you from under his lashes as he backpedals towards his bedroom, heart in his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

It’s a sign from the universe, he thinks. A final killing blow to the hopes that have long lingered inside of him. And at this point, it’s best he accepts it.

You’re just not meant to be.

a/n: part 5 is my next focus, i promise <33 and if anyone would be interested in an ask game, pls let me know! it might help the gears turn faster :)

[scionsthings]

CHAVIER NATION ( composed by me and other 2 people i know ) TODAY WE RECEIVED A BEAUTIFUL GIFT

My dearest friend @lilithkan wrote a Chavier fanfiction for us and it's AMAZING

They asked me to publish it myself so here we go with a little highlight from me ( What did Bill do? Just read ;)) , comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated! Enjoy

Just for the ladies

Words: 1,597

Characters: Javier Escuella, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson

Rating: T

Warm flickers of flame from the candles created miniature light shows, while the popping noises from the bonfire created a peaceful atmosphere. It allowed the gang to have a calm evening, some of them were gathered at the table, but our attention is going to be next to the fire itself, where a couple of cowboys were sitting idly.

<<You want another drink?>>

Said Bill in a hoarse but playful tone, offering another one to Javier. Both their noses and cheeks were reddened by the effects of the tequila they were drinking.

<<O-of course, compadre!>>

Replied Javier, his tone of voice still cracking from laughing at a previous joke the two shared. Apparently… Bill thought that Charles, simply… Dressed terribly. Javier initially snickered at the fact that it was Bill Williamson, not exactly known for being well dressed himself, saying so about the hunter… But maybe the Mexican could lend the dark-skinned man some clothes and he wouldn't look too terrible as well.

As if it were foretold by fate… Or as they say, speak of the devil: Charles walked up to the bonfire, to then sit next to it, on a log. The mixed man had a plate of soup in his hands- apparently Pearson must've served dinner.

As Bill was pouring Javier another drink, the man currently wearing a sombrero turned to the hunter, who was idly minding his business, as usual. But the Mexican's inhibitions were partly gone due to the beverage he was drinking. So, as he sided towards Charles, Javier spilled some tequila on the ground due to the speed of the movement.

<<Hey! Don't waste it!>>

Bill's voice cracked, as if almost saddened by the waste. It did cost a lot, after all.

<<You know, the ladies said you'd be a catch if only you dressed a little better.>>

Javier said, with a small smirk drawn on his lips, implying subtly as a teasing joke to Bill that he was one of the “ladies”, due to reasons clearly unbeknownst to him. Bill didn't really seem to mind, either ignoring the joke or simply… Not understanding it.

<<Huh?>>

Replied Charles, barely looking up from his food.

<<I could dress you up a bit, see how you'd look with a more… Thought out, outfit.>>

Added Javier, his tone was genuine due to the fact that the thought of actually dressing the other up like a doll seemed kinda… Fun, unlike how it felt just a moment before when he was laughing at the idea.

Javier took a couple sips from the remaining tequila in his cup, and brought it quickly down on the log he was sitting on, with a thud.

<<What do you say, you in?>>

He then asked openly, leaning forward to the other a couple inches. Charles looked at the man in front of him, then the other behind him, catching a glimpse of him drinking… Once again, his gaze was on his food. He took another bite, to then slurp the remaining soup.

<<Sure. Why not.>>

Replied Charles, his tone of voice low and serious as usual- as if the situation needed his usual dire manners. And with that, the three got up and, as the two drunk ones in particular left a trail of little snickers behind them, they all got to where Javier slept. His stuff was neat and tidy, in contrast with most of the others’ things around there.

<<So, what are you thinking, Charles?>>

Javier asked, his voice modulated and fluctuating, almost rhythmic as if he were singing a song in his head and instinctively imitated its sound with his tone.

<<Nothing fancy.>>

Replied the hunter, his only wish being to not be ridiculed.

<<Oooh, but we wouldn't dream of that, now would we?>>

Said Bill, his voice was made more accentuated and a little dramatic by the alcohol in his veins.

<<Ugh.>>

This was Charles response- and with that, the Mexican began looking around his stuff, to then take out a white shirt, black pants and a blue jacket. Then, he lent them to Charles, with a playful and slightly mischievous grin drawn on his lips.

Charles’ expression was hardened, but it softened just a moment as the sight of a Javier that seemed just so… Excited, about something. Something that stupid, might he add. So, a light hint of a smile was drawn on Charles’ lips as he took the clothes in his hands.

_______________________________

<<¡Ayy! Soy estúpido, dìos mio.>>

Javier looked at the button on the ground. One of his best shirts, damaged because he didn’t think about the fact that Charles’ body type was… Different from his own.

And oh, he sure did notice that the buttons were having difficulty holding on, but he didn’t really mind the sight. And got distracted by… Definitely, nothing in particular. So, the thought of making him change back didn’t even cross his mind… And now, as Charles looked kind of embarrassed, Javier didn’t hold back the jacket he was keeping for the hunter, and on the contrary, he held it out for him to take.

<<With your chest out like that you’ll definitely attract alllll of the ladies.>>

The Mexican commented, somehow trying to lift up again the mood, but kind of in a clumsy way.

Charles’ lips curled for a moment in a small grimace of confusion, but his expression quickly turned back to his usual harsh one.

<<Are you sure? I may ruin this too.>>

The hunter said, his voice rough, referring to the jacket Javier was lending to him, ignoring his comment. The Mexican brought back the clothing attire for a moment, to look at Charles with a raised eyebrow. He then rolled his eyes and brought back up the jacket towards the mixed man.

<<Sì. Take it.>>

And with that, the hunter took the piece of clothing the other was lending him, to then put it on- only one arm, as he immediately felt that it was way too tight around his forearm.

Charles looked at this, then raised his sight back up to the Mexican as he heard Bill’s laughter in the background at that ridiculous sight of a giant man trying to wear smaller clothes. Charles groaned lightly, as Javier looked at that sight as well- but his expression wasn’t one of mockery as the bearded man’s, it was one of awe. The hunter had quite the defined muscles, which you could clearly see underneath the tight clothing.

<<Fuck this.>>

Said Charles, feeling mocked by the both of them. He took off the jacket and then the shirt, quickly putting back on his own blue one and walking away.

Javier looked at the mixed man as he did this, a disappointed look drawn on his face for a moment, then one of slight frustration. He looked at Bill, to then give him a slap on the back of his head.

<<¡Idìota!>>

Bill looked confused as Javier stormed off as well, walking up to Charles.

The hunter got to the side of the camp, looking at the trees, right behind Arthur’s tent. Javier got up to him, stumbling around due to the still lingering effects of the alcohol flowing in his veins.

<<Came to make a mockery out of me some more?>>

Said Charles, his arms crossed.

<<Just wanted to say that it's not exactly nice to leave that way without even saying bye. Loved the scene though, seemed like a teenage girl.>>

Replied Javier, his tone still mocking for some reason even though he literally went there to say sorry on behalf of Bill.

<<I’ll take that as a yes.>>

Said Charles, to then begin walking away again.

<<No, espera->>

The Mexican said, landing his hand on the other’s shoulder. He turned back around, looking at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

<<I’m sorry for Bill’s behavior, Charles. But don’t mind him, he’s just an idiot, he doesn't mean any harm.>>

<<But you were mocking me too. I saw your little smile.>>

<<...Me?>>

Javier tilted his head slightly to the side, looking confused.

<<I didn’t and I wouldn’t->>

I mean, he would make fun of someone, but not Charles. Javier respected the hunter too much.

<<Yes you did. Don’t take me for an idiot. You thought I looked so ridiculous with your clothes that you became speechless.>>

<<I was just in… Awe, at… You have a great body, you know that?>>

Suddenly, Charles’ cheeks reddened but for a moment, drawing on his face a confused and surprised expression for the length of time of a flicker of the eye- easily missable.

<<Huh?>>

He couldn't say anything else. And because of that, Javier’s cheeks became red as well for a moment. The two of them could thank God that it was night and neither of them could see the other well.

<<We could… You know, go shopping instead. Buy some clothes that actually fit you, you know?>>

Said the Mexican, bringing together his hands for a moment out of nervousness, but hit them together instead of playing with them or anything of the sort.

The hunter moved his eyes around, looking for God knows what. Probably Bill, thinking that this might have been another way to make a fool out of him. But he didn't see him, and Javier seemed oh so genuine in his proposal. With a light grimace drawn on his face, Charles sighed, looking down for a moment, but quickly raised his sight back up at Javier.

<<...I’d like that.>>

Replied Charles, with a light smile finally drawn on his face.

[sanjisblackasswife]

“Intoxicated Love” Drunk!Black Fem Reader x Tipsy! Zoro (NSFW/Slight Fluff)

WC: 2.3k

@roronoaswifey sorry for this being so late :(💓

CW: Alcohol consumption, Slutty ass sex, Soft/Teasing! Zoro, Few petnames, Backshots in front of a mirror, Reverse Cowgirl, Oral, LOTS OF ORAL, Zoro takes pictures, Drunk aftercare(?)

“You wanna what…” 

“I wanna do some body shots off you….”

Zoro knew he shouldn’t have let you take the rest of his Sake with him. You’re such a damn lightweight and get so horny when you’re drunk. You’ve always told him that you were always sober enough to fuck him, but he never wanted to take the chance because he felt like you were lying.

“No you do that then you’re drunk and you always end up—“

“Wanting to fuck you yes but I just wanna …” Your fingers trailed his tan torso, feeling each small and large ridge of scars he had, “Play with you a bit..common it’s been a rough few days I just wanna relaaaxxxxx...”

Your slurred speech wasn’t anything less than chilling to the man. Not that he was disgusted or even annoyed when you got like this.

It was the simple fact that you turn him on too much when you get drunk. 

You slowly bat your eyelashes pushing out your lower lip, you rested your chin on his firm chest trying so hard to convince him to just indulge with you this late and lonely evening.

“One. Body shot. “ Zoro’s finger in your face, you go a bit cross eyed looking at it, which made your boyfriend huff through his nose. He loosened his angry gaze and instead gave you a weak smile to your lowered lids. “I’m doing one on you too.”

“Duh.” You scoffed clearing the floor and putting blankets on the cold Aquarium ground. “Strip and lay down.”

You could see the glint in Zoro’s eyes, reflecting a little off the water in the Aquarium and he rolled his eyes before he tried speaking his mind again. He took off his jacket, noticing the brightness in your reaction he mutters, “You’re such a perv.”

“I mean can you blame me?”

He lays on his back, you internally get giggly at the thought of licking and slurping your tequila off his warm chiseled body. He lets out a low grunt tossing his jacket, finally bare for your eyes only right now. 

“Well hurry up and stop drooling.”

“Ain’t nobody drooling over yo ass.” You snap back at his cocky remark before kneeling in between his legs.

“So what is a body shot exactly…you like to use me as a table of sum?”

“Just watch.”

Zoro did just that, not tearing his eyes from you. You push your curls back, making sure there is none to see messing up your concentration. Grabbing the half empty bottle you pour the clear liquid onto his stomach, you admired how it rolled off each ab, falling over his tanned skin and scar, your eyes followed one stream down to his v-line, it was so pretty, your man was truly blessed for his build.

 Zoro noticed your little horny ass, you get like this everytime you see his body, bottom teeth grazing at your lip until—

“Hey!” He snapped his fingers at you, your head still aimed at his pelvis but eyes meeting his darkened ones, “Is this a body shot? Just wasting a perfectly good drink on me?”

“No, you ass.” 

“Then hurry u—“

You didn’t see it, but from the sharp breath leaving Zoro’s mouth he was clenching his jaw, your full cold lips slurring off his stomach. The ridges of his stitches felt like they were slicing your tongue when you glided all around his torso making his hands throw onto ghosting over your bare shoulder, “This!?--is a fucking body shot?!”

“Why yes, pretty boy.” You trail your tongue from his pelvis up to his nipple causing his spine to shive, “That is a body shot…and might I say you taste amazing.”

“Oh yeah? Lay back.”

You didn’t expect to see Zoro so…interested to play along in your little game, but seeing that dark smile as he looms over your smaller form on the floor was just more reason not to complain.

“Take these off.” He tugged at your skirt, “No point in wearing these anyways--”

“There is! …my skirts look cute on me.”

“And they look better around your ankles so take them the fuck off….please.”

You almost, JUST ALMOST folded, but you wanted to be a brat, so instead you snatched the bottle beside his leg and took a long sip, eyes  not daring to tear from his dark gray ones, 

“You take ‘em off me since you want them gone so badly…”

The alcohol must have already gotten to your brain as it did your fucking hormones, because you were playing with fire at this point. Your back arched slightly, feeling Zoro’s  thick calloused hands skim your sides to hook his fingers on both your skirt and panty line, once you felt what he was doing you nearly choked out,

“H-hey!” Your voice broke from pulling out the bottle from your mouth, “So you can just get me naked--I thought you didn’t wanna fuck me while I..was drunk.” 

“You’re right I am not ganna fuck you..I’m ganna make you work for it.”

Maybe it was the way you clenched your thighs, maybe it was your low lids, and your tequila stained lips, all wet and soaked from your sloppy drinkings, but he couldn’t help but feel the need to not just punish you for being hardheaded, but fuck some sense into you.

SO why not do both?

“Z-Zo ha…” Your quivered laughs came to an awkward stop seeing Zoro grab his own sake and pour it all over your lower belly. He kneels between your legs, one arm high up, causing it to splashed on your chin a little, “You’re making a mess!”

He shrugged before taking a swig then moving his head down to lick the remnants that fell on your thighs, “I’ll clean it.”

It made your heart flutter seeing his hungered eyes on you, his thick tongue traveling from right above your cunt to up your belly button and slurping the drink from you, it was so pathetic how you mewled to his effect on you.

He moved from licking to sucking all over your belly, eventually his eyes fell to your thin shirt and using one hand while leaving a pretty mark on you, he pulled the first up with one hand and groped your breast, “ of course you wore no bra…you do taste good by the way...”

“I don’t need one..” You pouted trying so hard to conceal your moans, but it would soon fail once he wiggled his fingers back and forth on your nipple before giving it a firm squeeze, “S-stop, Zo..”

He chuckled, moving away from your bruised stomach to look at you from a better angle, he knew what that tone meant. He stood to rid the rest of his clothing and looked around for a moment and grabbed your phone, “Say cheese.”

“Zo!” You covered your face with the bottle and the back of your hand, “Stop tryna be funny, and just…”

“Just what?” His slurred speech making you look up at his form, your eyes shamelessly staring at his dick, licking your lower lip looking at it already starting to leak just a little for you, “You want to be fucked that bad then show me how much you want it. Take another sip..”

You do as told, one last big one, nearly stinging you as it goes down and place the bottle down to sit yourself up on your elbows, “You look so fucking good like this, take your shirt off and give me a show.”

Not taking the camera away from your cunt, you slide your fingers inside you, gasping at the amount of wetness you already began to show, Zoro couldn’t help but to let out a groan from watching you weakly finger fuck yourself as he stroked his cock at the same pace as you.

It felt embarrassing, seeing his snap a few photos of your sloppy hole stuffed with your fingers, but fuck if the sight of Zoro touching himself to you made you wash down that feeling.

“Can’t keep your eyes on mine, huh?” Zoro shrugs, placing your phone down to grab his bottle instead, “Then let me use your throat, mama…come here.”

 He reached his hand out to you to sit on your knees,He stared at you briefly and then bent down searching your weary eyes, “You okay? ..you sure you want to keep going?”

His warm hands cupped your cheeks, damnit if you wasn’t so horny already you would have suggested to just go and cuddle in your room, but the stench of alcohol on both your mouths just pushed you to kiss him, your tongue immediately massaged his and his tongue felt so good against yours, wrestling and moaning inside each other mouth,s lines of spit kept falling down your chin, 

“Say it.” Zoro breathed out, “Say you can keep going, if you don’t I’ll stop right now.”

Zoro meant what he said about not feeling okay to fuck you drunk if you were not capable of consenting, he never likes to think about you not remembering or knowing what he has done to you, it just feels wrong to him.

You smiled at him, trying your best to be as alert as you could, to show him you’re alright, putting your hand over his shoulder and saying, “I am okay…we can keep going.”

He kisses you softly, trusting your words and he guides you back down to his cock, “Open wide then.”

Such a good girl you are, even sticking your tongue out all for him, he holds your head with one hand and starts drinking with the other as his tip and shaft slide inside your mouth, you moan at the new taste,

“Shhhit!” Zoro feels your throat taking him in slowly and he starts to thrust slowly in your mouth, “just pinch my thigh when it gets too much, okay?”

You nod, being too stuffed in your mouth and throat to say anything, your hands rest on his thighs and let him use you for all your worth. It felt so good when he got selfish sometimes.

Unfortumneatly, with throat fucking he never lasts, you of course clean him up and Zoro takes one last swallow of his drink to passionately kiss you, the taste of you, the drinks, saliva and cum fucked up both of ya’ll senses to the point the room reeked of sex already.

Zoro laid down on his back and motioned his hands for you to sit down, you slid down on his cock, squatting giving him a view of your so easily taking him all the way in, you couldn’t wait to adjust so immediately you began to bounce against his chest, 

“Fuck I’m still sensitive!”

“/M sorry..” Your tone is as slutty as your words, “ Need you so badly…!”

Who was he to deny his princess of his cock?

“Fine..” He groaned holding your hip, “ Take this cock, baby it’s all yours..”

His voice inside your ear telling you such naughty things made you pick up the pace wanting to stop his drinking and just kiss him more, which your of course did, until he pulls back,

“Turn around…”

You wanted to question, but he insisted you do so, once you reposition yourself you gasp in shock,

“Z-zoro the mirror!?”

“I know..look at how pretty you are…common, baby..” He gives your ass one loud harsh smack, damn you loved when he did that, “Give us both a show and use me..I’m all yours..”

You were ashamed to admit, but damn you looked good fucking Zoro as his eyes matched yours in the reflection, your hair was all over the place, your breasts didn’t stop moving and nothing but the sounds of your pussy slamming down on his dick just was icing to the slutty ass cake.

You felt your stomach knot, orgasm approaching and it was going to cause you to nearly fall if your don’t balance yourself, luckily your big strong man notices and quickly put the bottle down to aid you,

“Gotchu, baby I gotchu..look at that..even better huh?”

You were on all fours, but eventually you stretched out your arms and let your back arch further as he used a thumb to spread your cheek, “You look so good baby..”

He held your hips, grip firm and thumbs gently caressing your damp skin. His thrust was already making you see stars. 

“Oh my fuck!” You cried, mouth agape, feeling his cock pulsate inside you, not a thrust went unsounded from the way his pelvis snapped back into your hips, “Zo!”

You managed to see him, face sweaty, and flustered but he is still chugging on that bottle like a damn baby as he puts into you from behind, but his orgasm must have been approaching from him dropping the empty bottle to hold you again with both hands.

“Fuck I’m close!”

And close he was cumming right behind your orgasm, as much as he usually kisses you to shut your moaning up, he couldn’t care less he started to curse and make noise out with you.

As you both calmed down his body was draped over yours like a blanket, his breaths ragged in your ear, you didn’t even care your body was mush and your brain was numb.

“Hey..” He kisses your ear raising up a bit. “We should drink and fuck more often I felt way more senstive.”

“Oh, you slut.”

Laughing together as he grabs your stuff and carefully carries you naked to your room in the late night hours of the Sunny, you both decide to just sleep off the alcohol and not try to bathe drunk in the shower for it may end in a bloody mess, it was pretty funny though, because as you was dosing off in his arms naked, you were 90% sure Zoro did not clean up the mess he and you made in the Aquarium.

[partyanimal167]

Never a Shortage- Miguel x F!Reader

I didn't forget this story idea! I was trying to clear some of my drafts, but this idea was nudging for a bit. Plus, I know it's going to take me a bit to develop it. I'm so excited to see where this goes and enjoy the sexy drama~

Poll Results Song Inspo

CW: SMUT, mdni, black fem reader in mind, Miguel variants, mild cussing, dirty talk, jealousy trope (not crazy toxic), praise kink, lowkey brat!reader x brat!miguel lol

It was always so good with Miguel. You knew what each other liked. Boundaries were respected. It helped with his grumpiness and for you to relax a bit. But Miguel hadn't learned to watch his mouth. And that was going to get him in trouble. A wakeup call was due.

You tried to be mindful of your strength as you held onto both the headboard and Miguel's head slurping at your core. You've gotten lost in the feeling of Miguel's skilled tongue on you before, and the financial cost wasn't cheap.

Your thighs tightened and stomach flexed as you continued to moan aloud. "Damn baby, damn baby! It feels so good," you panted loudly as Miguel grinned to himself.

It was always so good with him. He seemed to be able to tell that you were a bit on edge and was in a giving mood. He'd let you use him for whatever you'd want especially if you'd sing him praises loudly.

"Fuck," you gasped as your orgasm slammed into you suddenly. Your thighs immediately tightened as Miguel continued to lick and suck on both your hole and clit. You pulled at his hair which Miguel groaned before coming up for air.

A cocky remark was on the tip of his tongue before he was yanked up and met with your lips. He eagerly matched your enthusiasm and hummed as he remembered all that strength that was well-hidden.

"Did you like that kitten?" Miguel chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses.

You pouted. "Behave, Miguel."

A kiss and a chuckle. "I think you like it when I don't."

"I like it more when your mouth is occupied."

"Well then let me get to work then." He easily lifted your torso and slowly licked his tongue up from your hip bone to your collar.

Your body began to simmer once again and you sighed into that feeling. "Good boy."

~~~

You stretched your arms and let out a quiet groan as you released some of that built up tension. A day of dimension hopping was not the way you wanted to celebrate your latest victory against your city's 'villain of the year.' But if the wicked never rest, then neither do the heroes. So you continued with your Spider Society work at least comfortable knowing that things were good back home.

But you needed some rest.

So soon you found yourself in a hot bath with candles around and your mind floating away.

The water soothed your muscles, and you wanted to melt into the feeling. It was nice being super strong and durable, but you still wanted soft, gentle moments. You enjoyed the sweet scents from your body wash and notes from the lofi in the background. Things had been good for you recently to be honest--even with the chaos of fighting evil.

There was some more stability in the multi-verse, and you were trusted to check in with different dimensions--even before your little arrangement with one Miguel O'Hara.

It made you laugh because your random moment of boldness worked in your favor. Your mind had just been running, and when you caught O'Hara at the Society's pool party, the words 'Holy shit' found their way out. Miguel simply raised a brow and ask if you saw something you liked. Cliche? Yes, but he is a nerd so. Your boldness popped out when you followed up by saying you wanted to see more. And well...mix tequila and reggaeton and inhibitions tend to lower.

So somehow hot, steamy sex was incorporated into your busy schedule and who could complain really? You weren't necessarily looking for more. There was too much baggage you carried and didn't want to deal with. It seemed the same with Miguel. Either way, it was all easy-peasy going.

You continued to soak when the door to the bathroom slid open causing the candles to flicker a bit more. You kept your back facing away as there was only one person really who would be so bold to interrupt your quiet time like this. But it wasn't unwelcomed either.

Miguel groaned as he stepped into the hot water and filled in what space was left in the tub. He leaned over to peck your cheek. "I haven't seen you in awhile." he mumbled before pulling you into his lap.

You giggled as you sat back and played with the bubbles. "I just saw you like 5 hours ago when you were sending the team out."

"Yeah, but that was for work. I mean my little princessa." Miguel corrected. He certainly seemed in a 'good' mood.

You hummed to yourself as you started to lather up your loofah. "Busy saving the world back home: getting people away from falling cars, dismantling complicated weapons. I'm sure you heard about it." You went on nonchalantly. But Miguel knew the truth. You may not have been the most scientific nerdy Spider, but you were still too smart for your own good. He doubted much could actually give you trouble. That's why you were so reliable.

"Hmm, well let me get that for you," he reached for your loofah, but you reached it further. "Hey!"

"Ah ah, this is my relaxing time. Not sexy bath-fucking time. I want to stay clean." you argued and huffed.

"Aww don't be like that, mami. I know you're relaxing. You would have came to me otherwise if it was something else."

You paused mid-stroke and turned to look up at him. "What does that mean?"

Miguel held his hands up and shrugged. "Well you definitely seek me out when you want something, so I-,"

"You say that like it's meh to you," you shoot back.

"Definitely not, but I'm pretty sure I'm the favorite compared to whoever you're seeing." Miguel cockily replied. "And you do come by whenever I'm not too busy. Keeping tabs on me, hmm?"

You puffed your cheeks as you poked hard at his chest. "Don't act like I don't give it good to you either! I know some of things you like whispering in my ear. Just so you know, I certainly have options."

"Mmhm."

"What the hell was that? I'm serious!"

Miguel grinned and chuckled. "I'm sure you are, bebita. I like being the one you go to; that's all."

But his cockiness annoyed you for some reason. You were catch no matter where you were. And even if Miguel was too, he should certainly appreciate having you around to match his freak.

You didn't fight him off as he kissed up and down your neck or as he massaged the exact knots in your back. You liked it, wanted it. But a little idea was forming in your head, and you were beginning to plan exactly how you'd get your point across to that cocky Spider.

~~~

And we begin! I'm trying to think of who should be the first variant Reader goes after~ Maybe I'll do a poll and let you all decide

I'm excited to see how this fun little idea goes. Thanks so much for reading!

Taglist: @sukunash0e @jinnieminniemoon

[rawmeknockout]

human reader becomes drinking buddies with tfa scrapper and mixmaster. despite the massive size difference they all go around taking shots while reader talks shit about their shitty job

"And you wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork Sumdac has me doing! If I have to look at another legal letterhead, I think I'll barf." You roll your bloodshot eyes dramatically to the ceiling, drink sloshing onto your clean work trousers. A shitty margarita you made that ended up being mostly tequila because you fucked up the ratios.

Scrapper and Mixmaster curve their large frames over you to be at eye level, two imposing steel structures bending like flowers in the wind. Scrap nurses his first barrel of oil, while Mixmaster is throwing back container after container like the entire Earth is about to run dry. Maybe it is. You're just a desk jockey, whatever catastrophes are about to hit Earth don't faze your dull outlook on life. No use worrying when you can't do anything about it.

Like a giant winged killer of a mech bursting into the hangar, head on a constant swivel as he watches the ground.

"Scrapper, Mixmaster, have you-" Blitzwing stops short, sucking in a breath, before popping his derma out into a thin line, "You have the organic hostage. Out. Just... Milling."

Mix shifts uncomfortably in the following silence, desperate chugging slowed to a quite slurp. You don't dare say a peep of protest, clutching your cold drink in your cupped hands.

"It's-" Scrapper stops for a moment to consider his words, the first time you've ever seen him consider anything, "It's an interrogation?" His optics shift to you for approval and you have to stop yourself from wincing.

[william-m-lucipher]

what if I mixed my brain with the syrup but also tequila and vinegar because I like to spice things up sometimes

-🍁

FANTASTIC IDEA, YOU'RE A VISIONARY! DO IT, DO IT! SLURP IT WITH A SILLY STRAW!!!!

[minniiaa]

Shanks is obviously an alcoholic but I have some random headcanons about him. He only drinks the most foul liquors the bar has to offer. This man is slurping down peppermint schnapps, pinnacle whipped, sambuca, everclear, mad dog, or the most bottom shelf whiskey/tequila. Anything that gets him fucked up he will take. He’s immune to taste at this point, he’s been drinking his feelings since 1982 (he’s 37 at the start of op in 1999 and he def started drinking at like 13 with Rodger) no idea why the fuck he drinks maybe cause he was abandoned in a treasure chest as a child and his adoptive dad was executed. Unprocessed trauma, who knows.

He buys the bar a round everywhere he goes because fuck it he’s an emperor (he’s broke tho his crew doesn’t let his dumb ass access the funds so Benn sighs and pays the tab at 2am when the bar closes.)

He booty calls Mihawk who shows up because Shanks gives him that good shit even when he’s wasted (except when he’s got the whiskey dick) only to find the dumbest of all fucks passed out snoring with a bottle of cheap tequila pouring down his pants. He almost leaves in sight before he gets dragged down and pinned against the bed even though shanks is 100% asleep.

[trash-town-champion]

What drinks da2 characters order

In absolute fuck it we ball energy, I am replaying da2 here is a post for any of u who are still here from when I made this blog in high school

Yes this is modern / our world i dont care

Hawke: coronas. No, coors lite. Idk the beeriest college beer there is. Hawke is a ferelden farm boy this dude doesn’t even do mixed drinks he buys 6 packs only. Catch hawke in the club with one of those pitchers of beer thats like 64oz. If he must, whiskey soda(cola), and his go to shots are jameson

Varric: old fashioned is his go to, gin and tonic if he’s slowing down, and guinness if he’s really taking it easy, he doesnt really do shots

Fenris: he’s from tropical tevinter so must be tequila and mezcal, he usually does traditional tequila shots with salt and lime, but he’ll take a traditional margarita, salt rims on everything, he also likes tajin and will do mango if it’s spicy. Wine is a whole other ball of wax but he doesn’t really fuck with anything white or rosè he’d drinks cabs

Isabela: she’s a pirate so she likes rum, rum&coke is her go to, but she’ll do piña coladas, daiquiris, mai tais, and corny stuff like jello shots, blowjob shots, isabela only really likes shots if they’re this big communal event you make everyone do, she doesn’t do shots on her own, she’s the queen of mixed drinks and is low maintenance, if no rum she goes to vodka cran

Anders: white claw queen, trulys, high noons, go to mixed drink is long island iced tea, maybe screwdriver, but he will send things back if they’re not sweet enough and makes a terrible sour face every time he does a shot. This does NOT mean he does not do shots. He just has no preference bc he has no taste for liquor. He will order those ice blended drinks that are gross fake sugary, he drinks artificial shit like green apple flavored vodka, he brings malibu to every house party

Carver: he’s cut from the same cloth as hawke so he also drinks 6 packs. they order gallons of beer at a time and split them often, he’s always sipping mini fireballs out of his pocket as if he’s not surrounded by alcoholics, and he orders hennesy shots flat with no special flair

Bethany: cosmo, lemon drop, sex on the beach, sangria, she rejects beer because of her brothers, but she’ll do whiskey shots with them. she also likes ceremonious shot rounds like isabela

Aveline: ok so she’s obviously not down at the bar getting fucked up with everyone else, she mostly drinks beer and wine, she likes ipa’s and can get surprisingly sophisticated about beer, she doesn’t feel she has the refined palette of good wine choice (but she’d probably pass up many others) if she must order a mixed drink she’ll have whatever her friend is having, and if they’re doing shots she takes them like a pro

Merrill: oh boy this one’s hard. I think they just feed her drinks until she likes one and the ones she picks are so random to them they can’t follow the pattern. In reality, she has a preference for an herbal taste where she’ll like anything that tastes like she’s eating the forest or a garden, gin because it’s piney, garnishes with sage or basil or rosemary but she always eats the garnishes out of her drink whole, and she also likes to chew on the ice afterward. She’s a huge lightweight and gets drunk after two drinks but she really doesn’t mind the taste of them bc she would eat grass so she slurps down many a hard drink and then shes wasted