#exploratory testing

[kush4testing]

Join us for an insightful webinar on "Combining Exploratory and Automated Testing"

Date: Thursday, 1st August 2024

Time: 17:00 - 18:00 BST

Register your free spot here:- https://bit.ly/4cB3odL

Don't miss out on this opportunity to elevate your testing strategy!

#webinar #ExploratoryTesting

[edu-art9]

Exploratory Testing In Agile Blog By Edu-Art

 In this Blog, we will explore the benefits of utilizing exploratory testing in an agile environment and how it helps unlock the true potential of software quality assurance. We’ll explore the reasons why agile teams are embracing this approach and how it complements their fast-paced and iterative development cycles. 

[codelesstestautomation]

How does stress testing effect banking

The banks form the economic background of any country. Hence, each move banks make towards improving their digital platform determines where they are in their transformation journey. The banks globally are in stiff competition, and no one wants to leave any stone unturned. From implementing new technologies to upgrading and transforming the business flow, enterprises are making multiple efforts to improve their services and ensure customer satisfaction.

#stresstesting #testingforbanking #exploratorystresstesting #applicationstresstesting #softwaretestingservices #banking #yethi

Read More @ https://yethi.in/how-does-stress-testing-affect-banking-risk-return/

[oediex]

Somehow you find yourself in a job interview that's not terrible. That doesn't involve a company you despise. That goes well. It's for a job that actually sounds interesting and challenging. That aligns with your values. That is still too many hours, but at least not full-time. That might not grind you down psychologically.

It's too good to be true, isn't it.

[lucid-outsourcing-solutions]

Effective Techniques for Exploratory Testing in Mobile App Development

[zoieru]

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your lip balm / chapstick ~

Xavier ~

'what's that smell? it...doesn't smell like shampoo usually does.'

he's cuddling on the sofa with you and lifts his head, hair a bit fluffed from where he was tucked into your neck and chest, and his light eyebrows draw in at the centre trying to work out where it comes from.

'smell? Mm...its probably my lipbalm, Xavier, here,'

he takes it when you grab it and give it to him, rolling it over in his fingers to read any writing around the edge, head resting back against you again. he takes off the lid and sniffs it, eyes widening slightly before smiling a touch.

'its nice. does it taste good?'

he sort of asks without thinking of the double entendre at first, but a second later he realises and his eyes hold a flicker of mischief as he brings his face closer, eyes flitting to your lips.

'i dont know, you tell me?'

then he's all up in your business, eyes closing as he brings his lips to yours almost exploratory as when you try a new snack.

'mmh, yes. I like it.'

'good'

you plant a soft little kiss on the end of his nose to a cute blink and blushed chuckle from him.

over the next few hours he keeps coming back to kiss you more pointedly, more often, to a raised eyebrow from you. he likes the feeling and smell of it on his lips, it makes them soft and makes him think of you.

'Xavier you can take it if you want, i have a spar-'

'I don't want one.'

'but...?'

He only wants the thin soft coating of it on his lips when it means he's kissed you recently.

Rafayel ~

once this man catches drift of your scented lip balms he is all over that shit. he'll insist on going to choose ones, buying too many since you cant try them at the store, and then pouts when you tell him you cant face trying on and wiping off like ten different lip balms just so he can smell and kiss you over and over to see which one is best.

youre sat on the bed, the fading sunlight shining through the domed windows of your shared bedroom and onto this ridiculous pile of little cylindrical tubes on the duvet.

'but...'

'the scents will mix, and anyway lip balm is supposed to be nourishing, not causing my lips to be sore because ive applied and scraped off loads of different ones'

'well how am i supposed to know which one is the best then?'

'you'll have to wait and see i guess, i can put a different one on at few hour intervals, itll be like a fun surprise, you can guess which one i have on!'

'thats tooo longggg'

later you catch him applying one on himself in the bathroom, he just couldnt wait okay!! when you do put one on, he materialises at your side, hands running over your skin and finding their way to your jaw as if he could sense it from the other room, and he tilts his head with a little cute smirk.

'next taste test? this one's going to be good, i can feel it.'

Zayne ~

'here,'

he hands you one that he picked off the shelf next to you as you perused the options.

'what, you like this one?'

'i'm not familiar with it, but its important to use ones with more natural ingredients, especially when applying to sensitive areas like your face and mouth.'

'mmh, makes sense.'

you buy a few different types at his behest, and then he watches you try them and smell them as he puts his stuff away around the house.

'do you like them?'

'this one smells really good, actually.'

'mh?'

he's at your side, finding himself strangely excited to have another scent to not only feel and smell when he kisses you, but also to associate with you like he does with your hair stuff or your perfume.

'it does, you're right.'

he takes your chin in his other hands fingers, his usually gentle but firm touch, and then runs his thumb featherlight across the edge of your bottom lip, dark eyelashes lowering slightly as his eyes seem to both soften and darken at the same time.

'does it taste just as good?'

Sylus ~

'get all of them'

'Sylus, there are like fifty options here, why would I need fifty lip balms?'

he just shrugs, that annoyingly handsome smirk on his face as he feigns nonchalance.

'just trying to be supportive, kitten. no need to scratch now.'

'being supportive would be you helping me pick one'

'mmh, would it now?'

he was waiting to be asked, he's irritating like that. you rolled your eyes subtly and couldnt help the smile off his face as he on cue started analysing the options on the shelf with a discerning critical eye. after a silence, you pause, and glance at him sidelong.

'so?'

he points to a few in succession, speaking in a slow thoughtful sort of drawl as he ponders, playful yet serious simultaneously. It's an important decision, of course.

'too sweet, too floral, too colourful, too...is that glitter? i thought this was supposed to be health related, not glamourous. though i suppose a mix of both might be alluring. mmh...this one'

he holds it out to you, made up his mind. not stating his reason outright obviously. he looks down at you and eyes flick between your face and his choice, very subtly figuring out your reaction to his choice. as you leave the shop after buying, and go to put on your helmet to get on his bike, his hand comes to rest on top of it, stopping its path, and he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. You blink.

'hm?'

'well, come now, are you going to let me try the latest flavour of the lips i so often indulge in, or would you be cruel and have me wait?'

Caleb ~

so...lets say one day you're buying something completely unrelated, but you double take as your eyes happen to flit over some apple scented lip balm on the store shelf. You pause, nibble on your lip with a faint curl to the corners, and grab it and apply it on the way home. It's good...that apple scent that isnt too artificial or plasticky but also sweet and sharp enough to be noticeable and tasty.

Its hard to keep it in somehow when he gets home? its like a secret, which feels stupid, but he looks at you and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

'why you smilin', pips? what have you done?'

he asks, starting to laugh a bit at your face as you tried to keep it normal. it'll be like after a while where he wrestles you off the stove or something playfully that he'll catch a whiff. i mean he's obviously noticed your lips seem a touch shinier, but didn't think a whole lot of it except 'nice'.

'did you buy new perfume?'

'no...?'

'but...its appley over here, you got one in your ear or somethin'?'

he makes a point of sniffing around you like a dog as your giggling form is pressed back against the counter. then he pauses as his nose nears yours and a cheeky smile stretches across his face. his hand lifts and he runs the back of his fingers ever so softly over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement.

'ah, bullseye. so this is what you were giggling about earlier, you're so silly pipsqueak,'

'what? why?!'

'who gets all giggly about lip balm hm?'

he tilts his head, still in teasy puppy mode, though his eyes have softened and darkened as his face has come closer. as you pout he pokes your lips again with a smirk.

'mmh, an apple flavoured pout huh?'

he leans in achingly slowly to kiss you.

Weirdly specific headcanons about the lads boys and your scrunchie

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 1

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Murderbot Diaries series (All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect, Fugitive Telemetry, System Collapse, and other stories) by Martha Wells

Endorsement from submitter: "Asexual and agender main character. In later books side characters are revealed to be in poly relationship."

"As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure."

In a corporate-dominated space-faring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. For their own safety, exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids. But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn’t a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists is conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied ‘droid--a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module and refers to itself (though never out loud) as “Murderbot.” Scornful of humans, Murderbot wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is, but when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and Murderbot to get to the truth.

Science fiction, novella, series, adult

Hunger Pangs series (True Love Bites) by Joy Demorra

In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more...

Captain Nathan J. Northland had no idea what to expect when he returned home to Lorehaven injured from war, but it certainly wasn't to find himself posted on an island full of vampires. An island whose local vampire dandy lord causes Nathan to feel strange things he'd never felt before. Particularly about fangs.

When Vlad Blutstein agreed to hire Nathan as Captain of the Eyrie Guard, he hadn't been sure what to expect either, but it certainly hadn't been to fall in love with a disabled werewolf. However Vlad has fallen and fallen hard, and that's the problem.

Torn by their allegiances--to family, to duty, and the age-old enmity between vampires and werewolves--the pair find themselves in a difficult situation: to love where the heart wants or to follow where expectation demands.

The situation is complicated further when a mysterious and beguiling figure known only as Lady Ursula crashes into their lives, bringing with her dark omens of death, doom, and destruction in her wake.

And a desperate plea for help neither of them can ignore.

Thrown together in uncertain times and struggling to find their place amidst the rising human empire, the unlikely trio must decide how to face the coming darkness: united as one or divided and alone. One thing is for certain, none of them will ever be the same.

Fantasy, romance, paranormal, series, adult

[leriexoxo]

KISSING 101

Bff! Seungmin x Reader

Tags: smut, first kiss, first time, unprotected sex (i cant help it), lots of kissing, seduction, feelings realization, bestfriends to lovers

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: It was supposed to be a kissing lesson , just a friend helping his best friend out. What you didn’t know was that no one else’s kisses could be like seungmins, and that automatically switched everything up…

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Min, I’m serious. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

You sat on the floor, legs crossed, back pressed against the side of your bed as you stared at him—Kim Seungmin, resident menace, relationship cynic, and unfortunately, your best friend.

He was sprawled across your mattress, long legs hanging off the edge, hoodie half-rumpled from how many times he’d rolled his eyes and flopped around like you were torturing him with this whole conversation.

“You really want me to teach you how to kiss,” he said flatly, his voice dipped in disbelief. “Like, actually kiss. Lips. Tongue. That whole deal.”

“Yes.” You hesitated. “I just… I don’t wanna screw it up. He’s cute, and I’m nervous, and if I freeze or, I dunno, bite his nose or something—”

Seungmin snorted. “Bite his nose?”

“I panic!”

He sighed, sitting up, arms resting over his knees. For a moment, he just looked at you—long enough that you started to regret even asking. Then he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, “This is so weird.”

“I know,” you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “You don’t have to—”

“—But I will,” he cut in.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, yeah. I’m not gonna let you bomb your first kiss on some random guy who probably wears too much cologne and says ‘vibe check’ unironically.”

A soft laugh escaped you, but your chest was tight. This was Seungmin. Your ride or die. And now you were asking him to kiss you like you were… anyone else.

“Okay,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungmin shifted, sliding off the bed to sit in front of you. It was quiet—too quiet—until he cleared his throat and gave you the most serious look you’d ever seen on his face.

“I’m not gonna make this a thing,” he said, like a warning. “We’re not making it weird, alright?”

“Right. Not weird. Totally educational.”

He raised a brow. “Kissing 101 with Professor Kim.”

You laughed nervously, and he didn’t. He was watching you again, eyes flicking down to your mouth for just a second—barely long enough to catch.

“Okay, first—breathe.” His voice had dropped an octave. “You’re tense.”

“I’m literally about to kiss you, of course I’m tense!”

“Fair,” he murmured. Then he leaned in, slow and deliberate. “So I’m gonna go in—just a little. You don’t have to do anything yet. Just follow my lead.”

Your heart was in your throat as he tilted his head, his hand coming up to cup your jaw gently. His touch was careful. Measured. You could feel the heat of him, the scent of his cologne—clean, warm, familiar.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered, so soft you barely heard it.

And then… his lips brushed yours.

It wasn’t a kiss—not fully. Just a featherlight press. Testing. Patient.

He pulled back the tiniest bit, eyes scanning your face.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded, breath shaky.

This time, he closed the distance fully. His mouth met yours, firmer now, and you felt his fingers flex slightly at your jaw. The kiss was slow, almost too slow—each second stretched like he was making sure you absorbed every movement, every shift of his lips against yours.

When your mouth parted slightly, unsure, he made a soft sound in his throat and tilted your face a little more.

“Good,” he whispered against you. “Relax your lips—don’t overthink. Just feel it.”

You mirrored him instinctively, letting your lips follow the rhythm he set—soft, exploratory, unhurried.

Your hands had somehow found their way to his hoodie, clutching it lightly. You didn’t even realize until he broke the kiss, just a few centimeters away, his breath brushing your lips.

“That,” he said, voice husky and quiet, “was your first real kiss.”

You blinked, dazed, still holding onto him.

He let his hand fall away and cleared his throat like he was resetting his entire soul.

“Next lesson’s gonna be about tongue,” he added, glancing away like he wasn’t dying inside. “If you don’t chicken out.”

But neither of you moved.

Neither of you said the part out loud—that something had shifted, cracked open just a little.

But it hung there.

Between you.

Heavy and undeniable.

⸻

You didn’t talk about it.

Not that night, not the next morning, not even after he left your place with a dumb excuse like “I have to go reorganize my playlists.” You both pretended it hadn’t happened—even though it definitely had. Even though your lips still tingled, and every time you touched your face, you could feel the ghost of Seungmin’s mouth there.

It was just a kiss.

Just a favor.

Just a lesson.

Totally normal best friend behavior.

Right?

The next few days were… weird.

Seungmin was still Seungmin—still teasing you, still stealing your fries, still sending you TikToks at 3AM. But there was something different now. Like something was sitting between you, invisible but very present. A pause too long. A glance that lingered. A laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

And maybe you were overthinking it.

Or maybe he was doing the exact same thing.

But neither of you brought it up.

You tried. Once. Sort of.

You’d both been hanging out in your room again, him scrolling through his phone while you fidgeted with the edge of your hoodie. You opened your mouth to say something—you didn’t know what—and then he looked at you and said, “You’ve got that face.”

“What face?”

“The face you make when you’re about to overthink yourself into an aneurysm.”

So you shut your mouth.

And the moment passed.

But it didn’t go away.

It settled—simmering quietly under the surface, waiting.

And then—a few days later—you snapped.

It was late. Too late to be texting anyone but Seungmin. You stared at your phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard for a solid minute before you typed:

you up

His response was instant.

Always. What’s up, panic princess?

You chewed your lip. Then:

I want lesson two

You sent it before you could back out.

The typing dots popped up. Disappeared. Popped up again.

And then—

You’re joking

You rolled your eyes.

Dead serious

This time, the dots stayed.

…be at your place in 10

Your heart plummeted. Spiked. Did a triple backflip. You suddenly regretted everything.

You barely had time to throw on something semi-decent before your doorbell buzzed.

And when you opened the door, Seungmin just stood there, hoodie up, face unreadable.

“You really wanna do this?” he asked, voice low.

You swallowed. Nodded.

His jaw tightened—just for a split second.

“Alright,” he said, stepping inside. “Lesson Two. Let’s make it count.”

And for the first time since you’d known him, he sounded nervous.

“Sit.”

Seungmin’s voice was steady, but his hands were shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie like he didn’t trust what they’d do if he let them hang free.

You sat down on your bed, heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it. You tucked your legs under you, back straight, trying to look composed even though your stomach was doing somersaults.

Seungmin stayed standing for a second too long. Like he was deciding whether to bolt or go through with it. And then, with a quiet sigh, he moved to sit in front of you again—closer this time. Too close.

He rubbed his hands together like he was warming up for a test. “Okay. So, Lesson Two.”

You nodded, unsure if you were breathing right.

“We’re covering tongue today,” he said flatly, like he was announcing the weather. “Pacing. Pressure. How to read the other person. And, y’know… not slobber all over them.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Great. Just what I needed. Anti-slobber tactics.”

But he didn’t laugh this time.

His eyes met yours, and something in his expression flickered—like he was feeling it, too, whether he wanted to or not.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked, voice quieter now. “Because once we do this… it’s gonna be hard to pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”

You paused. Swallowed. “I trust you.”

That got him. You saw it in the way he blinked—once, slow. Like your words knocked the wind out of him.

He nodded once. “Okay.”

Then, slowly—so slowly—he leaned in again.

You expected it to be like last time. Soft. Easy.

It wasn’t.

This kiss was different the second it started. Still gentle—but deeper. More sure. His mouth moved against yours with that same maddening control, but this time, there was a thread of tension under it. Strained. Taut. Like he was holding back something.

You felt it when his hand came up again, cupping your cheek with a featherlight touch. His thumb brushed along your jaw as he shifted closer, chest almost brushing yours.

“Open your mouth a little,” he murmured against your lips. “Let me lead, yeah?”

You did as he said, nerves buzzing like live wires.

And then you felt it—his tongue, tentative at first, just a soft flick against yours. Testing. Inviting. He pulled back slightly, giving you space to follow, and when you did, he let out the quietest sound—half a hum, half a sigh—like he hadn’t expected you to match him so easily.

“Good,” he breathed. “You’re a fast learner.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue gliding slowly against yours—exploring, guiding, teaching. You weren’t just kissing—you were listening to him through every movement, mirroring the way he tilted his head, the way he used just the barest hint of pressure, never too much, never too fast.

It was intoxicating.

He broke the kiss gently, but didn’t move away. His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing a little harder now.

“That’s how you kiss with tongue,” he said, voice husky, still close enough to taste his breath. “Controlled. Intentional. Not messy. You listen to the other person.”

You nodded slowly, dazed. “Got it.”

You were still breathless when he pulled away.

Seungmin’s hand lingered against your jaw for just a second longer than necessary, before he finally dropped it like it burned him. He cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair, and shifted back a bit—not far, just enough to pretend like there was still space between you.

“That’s, uh…” His voice cracked slightly. He tried again. “That’s pretty much it for Lesson Two.”

You could feel your heart pounding. Your lips were still tingling. And somewhere deep in your stomach, something uncoiled. Something bold.

You stared at him for a beat, and he avoided your gaze, blinking down at the floor like it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the room.

And then, softly:

“Can I try?”

He looked up fast.

“What?”

You wet your lips. “Can I try it again? Initiate this time. I want to see if I learned anything. I mean… if that’s okay.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—panic? surprise? hope? He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple visibly bobbing.

“I—uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly thrown off his axis. “Yeah. I mean. Sure. Yeah. That’s—you can. It’s just a lesson. It’s fine.”

But he didn’t sound fine.

His usual sarcasm was gone, replaced with something unsure, guarded. You could tell—Seungmin was fighting a war in his own head. Trying to stay still. Neutral. Unaffected.

You leaned in slowly, giving him the same caution he’d given you. Testing.

His eyes flickered down to your lips—and this time, they stayed there.

When your mouth brushed his, he inhaled sharply, his body going rigid. But he didn’t stop you.

You kissed him—soft, slow, learning the curve of his mouth, the way he responded when you tilted your head a little, when you brushed your tongue lightly against his.

You felt it—him—tense under your touch. Like he was holding back everything in him not to grab your waist, not to pull you in closer, not to deepen it like he wanted to.

Because this was a lesson, right?

Not a real kiss.

Except it felt real.

Too real.

And when you pulled back, just a little—just enough to breathe—his eyes were still closed, lips parted like he didn’t want it to end.

You whispered, “How’d I do?”

He exhaled shakily. “Dangerously well.”

Your heart skipped.

And then, he opened his eyes, looking right at you.

“This was a mistake,” he said, barely above a whisper.

But he didn’t move away.

Neither did you.

Because even if he said it was a mistake—he wasn’t stopping it.

⸻

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Lips glossed. Heart pounding. Breath shaky—but this time, not from nerves.

You were thinking about him.

Not your date.

Not the guy waiting for you in the living room with his too-white sneakers and perfectly tousled hair.

You were thinking about Seungmin.

Again.

You shoved the thought away.

This isn’t about him. This is about me. About confidence. About finally doing this.

So you walked out, smile practiced, and let yourself fall into the rhythm of the evening—small talk, laughter, the occasional graze of a hand that should’ve made your stomach flip but… didn’t.

You kept waiting for the click. That moment where your heart would stutter, where your skin would buzz like it had in Seungmin’s room. But it never came.

Still, when the night started winding down, he leaned in, eyes warm and expectant.

And you didn’t pull back.

You let him kiss you.

His lips were soft. His hand found your waist. He moved like he knew what he was doing.

But the second his tongue brushed yours—

Nothing.

No butterflies. No sparks. No breath stolen from your lungs.

Just… static.

You tried to match him. Tried to remember what Seungmin taught you. The rhythm. The pressure. The way he’d murmured “Good. Relax your lips.”

You tried to feel anything.

But it felt like going through the motions of a dance you didn’t want to be performing.

The guy pulled back, smiling. “You’re a really good kisser.”

You blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

You smiled too, because you were supposed to. Because this was what you’d wanted, wasn’t it?

But inside, your brain was in freefall.

Why didn’t it feel the same?

Why did it feel like I was kissing a stranger when I was trying to recreate something that came from someone I’ve known forever?

You excused yourself shortly after.

And the moment the door shut behind you, you leaned back against it, heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

Because now you knew the truth.

You’d kissed someone else.

But all you could think about was Seungmin.

The way he’d held your face.

The way his breath hitched when you kissed him back.

The way your name had sounded on his lips when he whispered, “Dangerously well.”

And worst of all?

You realized it wasn’t just a lesson.

Not for you.

⸻

You were curled up on the couch, pretending to scroll on your phone while Seungmin half-watched something on TV. Just like old times. Normal. Comfortable.

Except it wasn’t.

Because every time your eyes flicked to his profile, every time you caught a glimpse of his fingers drumming against the couch cushion or the way his lips parted slightly in thought, your chest tightened.

You were trying to be chill. So chill.

But your brain was still stuck on that kiss from two nights ago—and the complete lack of anything it made you feel.

And the one that still haunted you every time you closed your eyes.

Seungmin glanced over suddenly, like he’d caught you staring.

“So,” he said casually, “how’d the date go?”

You stiffened.

He smirked. “You’re making that face again.”

You tried to shrug it off. “It was… fine.”

“Fine?” he teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not very convincing. You kissed him, right?”

You looked away, heat rushing up your neck. “Yeah.”

“And?”

You didn’t mean to say it.

But it came out before you could stop yourself.

“It wasn’t the same.”

The smirk disappeared. His face stilled. “What?”

You swallowed. “I mean—it was fine, technically. Good, even. But it felt… off. Like I was doing everything right and still nothing clicked. Like I was kissing him but thinking about—”

You cut yourself off.

Shit.

Silence.

Seungmin just stared at you. Eyes unreadable. Chest rising and falling with something you couldn’t name.

You panicked. Backpedaled. “Can I—can I show you?”

His brows furrowed. “Show me what?”

“How I kissed him. I just—I want to compare, I guess. See if I’m crazy or if it really was that different.”

His whole body went still. You could feel the tension suddenly pulsing off him like heat.

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

And then—quietly—“Okay.”

You moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.

Your heart was thudding so hard it hurt.

You leaned in—soft, hesitant—and kissed him. The way you had the guy on the date.

No passion. Just technical. Controlled.

And still—even like this—your body betrayed you.

Because the second your lips met Seungmin’s again, everything tilted.

Your fingers twitched. Your breath hitched. Your lips parted without thinking, already chasing more, instinct pulling you in like gravity.

Seungmin didn’t move at first. But then—he kissed you back.

Just a little.

Just enough to shatter your nerves.

Because the moment your mouths slid together, it was everything.

Warmth.

Electricity.

The pressure you didn’t know you were holding finally releasing.

You gasped against his mouth, overwhelmed by how different it was. How real. How right.

And that’s when it hit you.

The problem hadn’t been the guy.

It was the connection.

And the only one you wanted it with…

Was him.

You pulled back, breathless, lips parted, eyes wide.

Seungmin stared at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

Because now you both knew.

This wasn’t about lessons anymore.

And maybe it never was.

⸻

The silence was deafening.

You were still close enough to feel his breath on your lips, the ghost of the kiss hanging between you like a spark that refused to go out. And Seungmin?

He wasn’t moving.

His jaw was clenched so tight, you could see the tension rippling under his skin. His eyes were locked on yours, dark, stormy, confused as hell. Like he was trying to convince himself this hadn’t just happened. That this wasn’t real.

But it was.

And every second you sat there, not saying a word, the weight of it got heavier.

You could feel it in the way his fingers twitched against his knee. In the way his lips stayed parted like he was still tasting you. In the way his chest rose and fell—too fast, too uneven.

Your breath caught.

You could practically see the war happening behind his eyes.

And then—

He lost.

Without a word, without warning, he reached for you.

His hand slid around the back of your neck and he pulled you in—hard, needy, like he’d been holding back for weeks and couldn’t anymore.

His mouth crashed into yours, nothing like the slow, calculated kisses from before.

This one was different.

Feverish. Starved. Real.

His lips were hot and rough against yours, his tongue sweeping in deep, hungry, taking what he wanted without hesitation. He kissed you like he meant it. Like he’d been dying to. Like he’d thought about this—wanted this—dreamed of this every second since Lesson Two.

His hands weren’t teaching anymore.

They were claiming.

One curled at the base of your neck, the other gripping your waist, dragging you closer, like distance itself was offensive. Your body melted against him without question, instinct kicking in, your hands fisting into the fabric of his shirt as your mouths moved together, in sync, like your bodies had always known each other better than your minds did.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t because he wanted to.

It was because he had to.

His forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged, lips swollen.

You could feel his heart pounding through his chest.

And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, rough, wrecked.

“That—” he rasped, eyes still closed, “—was not a lesson.”

You nodded, unable to speak. Still dazed. Still burning.

“No more pretending,” he said.

You didn’t even argue.

Because you didn’t want to pretend anymore, either.

⸻

You didn’t talk about it.

Not the kiss.

Not the way Seungmin kissed you like he was on the edge of burning alive.

Not the way you kissed him back like you wanted to be the one to set him on fire.

The next morning, he was already in his kitchen when you came down, acting like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t dragged you into him and kissed you senseless on the couch just hours earlier.

“Want toast?” he asked, like his hands hadn’t been on your waist. On your neck. Like his tongue hadn’t been in your mouth.

You blinked. “Sure.”

He nodded. “Cool.”

And that was it.

He didn’t look at you. Not really. Not for longer than a half-second at a time. But his jaw kept clenching. His fingers were tapping the counter like a metronome ticking faster than the silence could fill.

You pretended you didn’t notice.

You pretended the toast was the most interesting thing in the room.

But you could feel it—his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking. Heavy. Hot. Confused.

Days passed like that. Tiptoeing. Dancing around the moment like it wasn’t still echoing in every glance, every brush of your arms when you walked too close.

And then—finally—he cracked.

You came over after he texted you and found him in his room, pacing.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice tight.

You nodded. Heart pounding.

He didn’t meet your eyes.

“That kiss… it shouldn’t have happened.”

Your throat tightened. “Oh.”

“It just—it got out of hand. That was my bad. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “We’re best friends. You’re—you’re not supposed to be…”

His eyes finally lifted to yours.

And froze.

You’d been sitting cross-legged on his bed, shorts too short, one of his hoodies swallowing your frame. It should’ve been harmless. Should’ve.

But it wasn’t.

Not to him.

You weren’t doing anything. Just breathing. Just being.

But in that moment, Seungmin saw you differently. Felt you differently.

And something inside him snapped.

He stepped closer.

“You’re not supposed to be…” he repeated, voice lower now. Tighter. “So fucking hot.”

Your breath caught.

His eyes dropped to your lips.

He clenched his fists like he was holding himself back with everything he had. “You’re my best friend. You’re not supposed to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you whispered.

He stared at you—eyes dark, full of conflict, full of want.

“Like you want me to ruin you.”

Your stomach flipped. Heat bloomed low in your belly.

“I don’t want to want this,” he said, each word shaking loose from his throat like it hurt to admit. “But fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His eyes dropped lower. “About that kiss. About your lips. About the sounds you ma—”

“Seungmin—”

He stepped closer again. “I can’t unsee it. I keep trying to look at you like before. Like just my best friend.”

His voice cracked.

“But all I see now is someone I want to devour.”

You were quiet for a moment.

Seungmin stood in front of you—shoulders tense, chest heaving, eyes blown wide with everything he didn’t want to feel but couldn’t escape.

He’d just said it. All of it.

Every word you’d been too afraid to speak out loud.

And that power? That admission?

It made something in you shift.

You reached for him—slow, deliberate—and placed your hand gently on his chest. Felt the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I’m not trying to ruin us,” you said softly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

His jaw flexed. “Then don’t do this.”

“But I haven’t even done anything,” you whispered.

And you watched him break again.

His eyes shut tight like he was trying to will away the image of you sitting there, loose-limbed and unbothered, voice soft and sinful. Like you weren’t right there, fingertips now trailing slowly down the center of his chest.

“Seungmin,” you said, voice lilting, teasing. “You think I want you to ruin me?”

He opened his eyes—barely.

“Maybe I just wanted to know if it was you feeling it too.”

He swallowed hard, backing up half a step, like distance would protect him.

It wouldn’t.

You followed. Just enough.

“You kissed me first,” you reminded him. “And you kissed me like you meant it.”

“Don’t,” he warned, voice a low growl now.

“Why?” you asked, cocking your head. “Because I liked it?”

His breath hitched. You saw it.

“Because I’ve been replaying it in my head every night since?” You leaned in slightly, just enough for your breath to graze his throat. “Because the date kiss was nothing compared to you?”

“Stop,” he hissed, but his hands had curled into fists at his sides. White-knuckled.

You smiled—just the slightest twitch of your lips.

“You don’t get to say all that and expect me to sit here like it didn’t fuck me up, too.”

Then—because you couldn’t help yourself—you reached up and brushed his hair off his forehead, fingers lingering.

“I’m not going to kiss you again,” you whispered. “Not yet.”

Seungmin exhaled, a sound that was half frustration, half relief, all pain.

“But I’m not going to pretend I don’t want to.”

You stepped back. Just one step.

Watched him chase the space you left behind with his eyes, like he hated the distance and needed it all at once.

“Go back to calling me your best friend if you want,” you said softly, voice like a promise and a threat. “But you and I both know it’s not that simple anymore.”

And with that, you turned.

Left him standing there.

⸻

Seungmin was spiraling.

He didn’t show it, of course. On the outside, he was calm, composed—maybe a little quieter than usual. But nothing out of the ordinary.

Except for the way he couldn’t look at you for more than three seconds without losing his grip on reality.

You were ruining him, and you didn’t even seem to realize it.

Or maybe you did.

You had come to his place to stay the weekend like you usually did, nothing out of the ordinary.

You wore his hoodie again that morning. That stupid, oversized hoodie that always used to mean safe and familiar and best friend.

But now?

Now it was just soft fabric stretched over bare legs he couldn’t stop fucking looking at.

You’d bend to grab something off the floor and he’d have to look away so fast his neck cracked.

He found you in the kitchen that afternoon humming to yourself, licking a little bit of jam off your thumb.

And he had to leave the room.

Just left, no explanation.

Because his brain? His brain didn’t see his best friend anymore.

His brain saw you on your knees in that hoodie with nothing underneath, lips slick and inviting, waiting for him to cross the damn line again.

He barely spoke to you that whole day. You noticed.

That night, you cornered him.

“You’re being weird,” you said, standing in the doorway of his room, arms crossed. “You won’t even look at me.”

“I’m not—” He sighed. “I’m trying to keep my distance.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re dangerous now,” he muttered, finally meeting your gaze.

And the look you gave him?

Sweet. Curious. So fucking inviting.

“I’m not trying to mess with you,” you said softly. “I just… I liked what happened. I liked what you said.”

“That’s the problem.”

Your head tilted.

He groaned, rubbing a hand through his hair like he was seconds away from combusting.

“I used to see you as this untouchable little idiot who couldn’t even flirt without blushing,” he muttered.

You smirked. “And now?”

“Now I look at you and all I can think about is pinning you down and making you forget every single lesson we practiced.”

Your breath hitched. You didn’t expect that.

“Seungmin—”

“I dreamt about you last night,” he said, voice suddenly low. Raw. “And I woke up hard as hell and so fucking pissed off because it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

You stared.

He took a step toward you.

“You think it’s funny to tease me like this?” he said, eyes flashing. “Walking around in my clothes, whispering shit to my face, telling me you think about the kiss, then pulling away like you’re not doing anything wrong?”

Your lips parted.

“I’m trying so hard to hold it together, but you’re not helping.”

And then you smiled. Innocent. Sweet.

“I could help.”

That was it.

His self-control?

Gone.

Seungmin grabbed the doorframe over your head, caging you in without even touching you.

His voice was a warning and a plea all at once. “If you’re gonna keep playing with fire…”

You looked up at him, unblinking. “Then what?”

His jaw tightened.

“Then don’t blame me when I finally burn us both.”

—

Sunday night…

It was late.

Too late.

The apartment was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the fridge and the patter of rain outside. You’d both been watching a movie on his laptop in his bedroom, your backs against the headboard, but Seungmin was stiff beside you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the screen like it owed him money.

You didn’t say anything.

Not until you shifted—just enough that your bare thigh brushed his.

You felt him freeze.

“Still trying to keep your distance?” you asked, voice low, teasing.

His jaw flexed. “Don’t start.”

You turned your head, smiling, chin resting on the back of the couch. “What if I want to?”

He didn’t answer.

So you leaned in.

Slowly. Carefully. Eyes never leaving his face.

You were close enough now that you could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way his lashes trembled when your hand ghosted over his wrist.

“Hey, I’m not trying to ruin anything,” you whispered.

“Then stop playing with me.”

“I’m not playing.”

You moved your hand again—this time over his chest, fingers tracing the edge of his collarbone through the soft cotton of his shirt.

Seungmin exhaled sharply.

Your touch dropped lower.

And that was it.

He snapped.

One second you were teasing him, and the next?

You were flat on your back, Seungmin hovering over you, hands on either side of your head, eyes wild with something dark and deep and so far from platonic it made your pulse skyrocket.

“You really want to know what happens if I stop holding back?”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in—so close your noses brushed. “Because I don’t think you understand what you’re asking for.”

You stared up at him, completely still, heart hammering against your ribs.

“I do,” you whispered.

His lips twitched—something between a smirk and a snarl. “No, you don’t.”

Then he kissed you.

Hard.

Nothing gentle. Nothing careful.

This wasn’t a lesson.

This wasn’t even a mistake.

This was everything he’d been dying to do wrapped in heat and teeth and hunger. His mouth crashed into yours like it had been waiting for permission for years. And now that he had it?

He wasn’t stopping.

Your fingers clawed at his shirt, dragging him closer, and he groaned into your mouth—a sound that vibrated through you, dark and needy and possessive.

He shifted, pressing his body against yours, and fuck—he was hard. So hard. You felt it grind against your core, slow and deliberate, and you gasped, breaking the kiss for air.

But Seungmin wasn’t done.

His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, teeth grazing just enough to make you squirm.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he growled. “How hard it’s been trying not to touch you, not to taste you—”

You whimpered, and he groaned, rolling his hips against yours again.

��Is this what you wanted?” he rasped. “Me like this?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Seungmin—yes.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“You’re not just gonna be my best friend anymore,” he whispered. “You’re gonna be mine.”

His thumb was still pressed against your bottom lip, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t catch his breath.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, voice trembling.

That broke something in him.

He kissed you again—deeper this time, slower, but with the kind of hunger that made your head spin. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring you like he was learning, memorizing, branding every inch.

You moaned into him, and he felt it—groaned back, like the sound lit something inside him.

His hands slid down your body, pausing at the hem of the hoodie—his hoodie, still hanging off you like a sin. He pulled it up just enough to touch your waist, thumbs skimming your bare skin.

“You wore this just to mess with me, didn’t you?” he murmured against your lips. “Knew what it would do to me?”

You blinked up at him, breathless. “Maybe.”

He huffed a laugh, low and dangerous.

“Yeah. That tracks.”

His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them with a quiet urgency. You felt the weight of his hips press between them, and your whole body arched at the contact.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “you feel too good.”

His lips returned to your neck, dragging down to your collarbone, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. A claim.

You gasped, nails digging into his back, and he growled against your skin.

“I’ve been patient,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to be good.”

“But you don’t want to be good right now,” you whispered, daring.

“No,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “Right now I just want to be bad.”

Then—his hand dipped under the hoodie again, sliding over your stomach, up—up—until his fingers brushed the curve of your breast.

You shivered.

“Can I?” he whispered.

You nodded, too breathless to speak.

He slipped his hand beneath your bra, groaning the moment he felt your skin. His thumb brushed over your nipple, slow and deliberate, watching the way you reacted—how your hips lifted, how your lips parted.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, eyes flicking down. “God, I barely touched you.”

You tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathy whimper.

He smirked, then leaned down to kiss the swell of your chest, open-mouthed and filthy.

“I want to take my time,” he said, every word pressing into your skin. “Want to learn every part of you. What makes you squirm. What makes you beg.”

You were already there. Already trembling.

His hips ground into yours, slow, delicious friction making your brain go blank.

And then—his voice again. Low. Rough.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “Let me be the one who teaches you everything.”

You nodded again, breathless, desperate, eyes wide and wild.

“Seungmin, please.”

His forehead dropped to yours, breathing heavy. “Then don’t stop me now.”

And just like that, his mouth was on you again—kissing, tasting, claiming—

Ready to show you exactly how long he’s wanted this.

Exactly how much he’d held back.

And how there was no going back now.

His lips were on your neck again, tongue dragging slow, reverent patterns while his hands mapped your body like he was memorizing it cell by cell.

You were panting now, arching into him, needing more.

“Still with me?” he murmured against your skin, voice thick and low.

You nodded—barely. “Please.”

That word. That voice.

He kissed you again—this time softer, slower, almost reverent. “Okay, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His fingers dipped beneath your panties—finally—and when he felt how wet you already were, he groaned.

“Fuck. All this for me?”

You whimpered, cheeks flushed, thighs already trembling from just his touch.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured. “So soft. So ready.”

His fingers moved gently at first—testing the waters, dragging through your folds with aching precision, just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Just feel me.”

He circled your clit with maddening patience, lips never leaving your neck, and your hips bucked instinctively.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “There you go.”

Then—a finger. Slowly easing inside you. You gasped, back arching, and he kissed your cheek.

“Just one for now,” he soothed. “Gotta get you ready.”

His voice—soothing, tender—was at complete odds with the way his hand was working you open. He curled his finger just right and you moaned, gripping his wrist.

“That feel good, sweetheart?”

You could barely speak, but you nodded, breath caught in your throat.

He added another.

And another.

Soon you were writhing, panting, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. He kissed your lips—slow, deep, filthy—while his fingers fucked you open.

“I want you to remember this,” he breathed. “Every second. Every touch.”

You were soaked now, hips moving against his hand, whimpering his name over and over like a prayer.

And when he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the loss—until you saw the way he licked them clean, eyes locked on yours.

“You taste so good,” he said. “Can’t wait to fuck you and have it all over my cock.”

You shivered.

He reached for his sweats, pulling them down, and your breath caught when he revealed himself.

Thick. Hard. Heavy.

Bigger than you expected.

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, a low, sinful sound.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised. “I’m gonna take my time.”

He lined himself up, pressing the tip against your entrance, and waited.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “Seungmin—please.”

And with one slow, careful thrust, he pushed into you.

Your whole world snapped.

He filled you, inch by inch, your walls stretching around him, and you gasped—full. So full.

He groaned, burying his face in your neck.

“You’re so tight,” he growled. “So fucking perfect.”

He stayed still, letting you adjust, kissing your shoulder, whispering praise into your skin.

And when you finally moved your hips—giving him the okay—he started to thrust.

Slow. Deep.

Each stroke dragging against your most sensitive spot, each one pulling little moans from your lips.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “Taking me so well.”

Your hands clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist as he rocked into you, slowly building a rhythm that had your toes curling.

But then—you rolled your hips.

And Seungmin snapped.

“Shit,” he cursed. “You want it harder?”

You nodded, desperate.

He grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, and slammed into you.

You cried out, stars dancing in your vision as he fucked you—properly fucked you—his grip bruising, his breath ragged.

“This what you wanted?” he growled. “Me ruining you? Making sure no one else gets to touch you like this?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “Only you—only you.”

He lost it.

His pace turned brutal, hips snapping into yours with every thrust, and all you could do was take it.

He reached between your bodies, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles until your body clenched.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.”

And you did—with a cry of his name, your whole body trembling as you shattered beneath him.

He fucked you through it, chasing his own high, moaning your name like it was salvation.

And when he came—deep inside you, hips pressed hard to yours—you felt it.

All of it.

The heat. The weight. The absolute claim.

You got it.

Let’s take it home—soft, sweet, utterly wrecked but in the best way possible. No more pretending. No more lines.

Just Seungmin and you, tangled in sheets and breath and something dangerously close to love.

⸻

The room was quiet.

The only sound was your breathing—slow, heavy, uneven. The aftershocks still rolled through you in waves, little shivers making your muscles twitch as Seungmin collapsed onto his forearms above you, chest heaving.

You stayed like that for a moment.

Still joined.

Still trembling.

Still barely believing what just happened.

And then his forehead dropped to yours.

“You okay?” he whispered, voice raw. “Did I hurt you?”

Your fingers found his hair, soft and messy and damp with sweat. “No,” you whispered back. “You were perfect.”

He sighed—relief, guilt, and something else all tangled up in one sound.

“I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” he murmured. “Not tonight. I just—once you started touching me like that I—” He broke off, lips brushing your cheek. “I lost it.”

You smiled, turning your head to catch his mouth in a gentle kiss. “I wanted it.”

His eyes flicked open—wide, dark, and full of something he was too scared to name. “Yeah?”

You nodded, thumb brushing along his jaw. “I wanted you.”

His whole body softened.

He kissed you again—slow, warm, with none of the hunger from earlier, just something quiet and vulnerable. When he pulled out, he moved carefully, like you were something precious, something fragile.

And maybe you were.

He cleaned you up without a word, stealing one of his old shirts from the floor and tugging it over your head with the softest smile you’d ever seen on him.

Then he climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms, tucking you right under his chin like it was instinct. Like you’d always belonged there.

Your fingers traced lazy lines across his chest, your legs tangled with his under the sheets.

It was comfortable.

Safe.

But it was new, too. Raw. And real.

You could feel the way his fingers kept twitching where they rested on your hip, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold you like this now. Like maybe he was still scared he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

So you whispered, “Seungmin?”

“Yeah?”

You looked up at him. “We’re not pretending this didn’t happen, right?”

He stilled.

Then—slowly—his lips curved.

“No,” he said softly. “We’re not.”

“Good,” you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “But I need you to know something.”

Your heart jumped. “What?”

“That wasn’t just sex for me,” he said. “That wasn’t just… helping a friend. That was me giving you everything I’ve been holding back.”

You swallowed hard.

“And I don’t want it to be a one-time thing,” he added. “Not if you don’t.”

You didn’t even hesitate.

“I don’t.”

He exhaled—shaky, like you’d just lifted a thousand-pound weight off his chest.

“Then I guess we’re not just best friends anymore,” he said with a grin.

You smiled. “Guess not.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was on his chest, your body curled perfectly into his.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And you did.

For the first time in forever, you fell asleep with a full heart—warm, safe, his—wrapped up in the arms of the boy who taught you how to kiss, and ended up showing you what love feels like instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: That was a lot of kissing 😍 also i think its cute how seungmin was her first everything!

If you loved this, give it a like and comment and REBLOG!!

[emmiesoverthemoon]

sweeter than this

pairing: lee felix x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: felix takes 'trying out the dessert' to a whole 'nother level while baking with you

tags: fluff, oral f receiving, established relationship

ao3

The scent of chocolate and sugar danced through the air, curling into the warm haze of late afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window. Your hips swayed slightly to the low hum of music playing in the background, wooden spoon in hand, laughter bubbling from your chest as you stole another taste of the brownie batter.

"Hey!" Felix called from behind you, mock-scandalized. "That’s the third time you’ve ‘taste-tested’! I haven’t even had one try!"

You turned with a smirk, the tip of your finger still sticky with batter. “Quality control. Someone has to make sure it’s sweet enough.”

He leaned against the counter with that easy, boyish grin—golden hair tousled, a smudge of flour on his cheek, apron strings hanging loose behind him like he had not even bothered tied it properly. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you,” you teased, tapping his nose with your sugar-coated finger, “are just jealous.”

“Mmm.” He caught your wrist gently, eyes dropping to your hand, then rising to meet your gaze again—something flickering there. Something different. His smile softened, but made no move to fade. “You know what else is sweet?”

You raised a brow, still half-laughing. “What?”

He dipped his head, voice low, rougher around the edges now. “You.”

The word landed softly, but the look that came with it? That was a drop of fire. His grip on your wrist tightened just enough to send a flutter through your chest, and when he pulled you in by the apron, it was by no means for another frosting joke. It was to kiss you—slow, sure, deep.

Felix’s mouth was warm and patient, teasing at first, like he was savoring you the way he might those brownies you both had spent the last hour mixing together. But then he groaned, just barely, and it was like something snapped—his hand sliding behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you harder.

You gasped against his lips as he turned you, lifting you with startling ease and setting you down on the edge of the counter. The cool marble pressed against the backs of your thighs, a contrast to the heat that was quickly blooming everywhere else.

“You’re making a mess,” you whispered, breathless, your apron riding high, flour dusting his shirt.

His eyes were darker now, the gold of them eclipsed by something far more molten. “I’m about to make a much bigger one.”

And then—he knelt.

Just like that. No hesitation.

He eased your knees apart, eyes never leaving yours, and the way he looked at you from down there—hungry, worshipful, wrecked—it unraveled something deep and slow inside you. His hands slid up your thighs, warm palms trailing fire. He leaned in, pressing a kiss just above your knee, then higher. And higher.

“You’re sweeter than anything we could ever bake,” he murmured against your skin. “And I’ve been dying for a taste all afternoon.”

You barely managed to breathe his name before his mouth met you—and then your thoughts scattered in the wind.

His tongue found you with a patience that felt almost cruel—each slow stroke reverent, exploratory, like he was refreshing his memory of you from the inside out. He was in no rush. No, this was not some frantic, hungry thing. It was adoration, self-indulgence, obsession.

You exhaled sharply, your fingers sliding into his hair, gripping just a little when he flattened his tongue and dragged it along the length of you, only to pull back slightly and kiss your inner thigh, lips sticky with sugar and something far more intimate now.

“You taste even better than I remember, each new time is better than the last,” he said, his voice rough with want. “Sweet, soft, and all mine.”

You whimpered as he dipped back in, this time with more purpose—his hands anchoring your hips, keeping you in place when you started to shift beneath the intensity of his mouth. He was relentless now, drawing sounds from you like a song only he knew how to play, tongue curling and flicking with maddening precision.

Your back arched, one hand bracing on the countertop, the other fisting in his golden hair. His groan vibrated through you when you tugged, and the reaction made your whole body pulse.

“Baby—” you gasped, “you’re gonna make me—”

“I know,” he said, barely lifting his head, lips glistening. His eyes burned. “That’s the point.”

And then he buried himself again, faster this time, hungrier. Like he had only been warming you up before. Like he wanted to make you come undone with nothing but his mouth, to prove something—maybe to you, more so to himself. That he could do this. That no one else would ever be allowed to taste you this way. That he would be the one you would ever need.

You broke with a cry, thighs trembling against his shoulders, head falling back as your body gave in completely—sweet, aching release crashing through you.

But he was relentless.

He would not dream of slowing down.

He kept eating you through it, one hand sliding up your torso, under your shirt, finding your breast and squeezing just enough to make your breath catch again.

“You’re not done,” he said, licking his lips, eyes glazed with heat and pride. “You’re gonna give me another one. Right here. Before those brownies even finish baking.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, smirked up at you with flour still dusted on his cheek and that wicked glint in his eyes.

“You said you liked sweet things,” he murmured. “Let me give you something unforgettable.”

Felix chose not to wait for your answer—not really. The question had been rhetorical, a velvet promise disguised as a tease. His mouth was already back on you, devouring you with a hunger that felt almost possessive. Like now that he had had a taste, he could not bear the idea of stopping.

And truthfully… neither could you.

Your head fell forward as your body shivered, flushed and buzzing with the aftermath of your first release—but he was unsatisfied with just one. His boyish charm had slipped completely now, revealing something darker underneath: a man who worshipped the way you fell apart, who wanted to see how many times he could make you lose control before the oven even dinged.

“Please,” you whispered, you were unsure if you were begging for him to stop or to never stop.

“I love it when you beg,” he said, and you could feel the smirk against your skin. “But I love it more when you scream.”

Your uncertainty faded in a second, it was definitely for him to never stop.

And then he slid two fingers inside you—slow, precise, curling just right—and your entire body tightened in shock at the sudden, overwhelming pressure. His mouth never left you, tongue working in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and your breath caught, your thighs trembling again already.

It was too much, and yet not enough.

The countertop edge bit into the backs of your thighs, and the cool air hitting your flushed skin only made the heat between you burn hotter. You glanced down, and the sight of him—kneeling between your legs, broad shoulders holding you open, face buried in your body like you were the only thing in the world worth tasting—almost undid you completely.

“Look at you,” he murmured when he came up for breath, his lips slick and swollen. “So messy for me already. You’ve ruined my apron.”

“Your fault,” you managed to whisper, dazed.

“I know.” He grinned—mischievous, wicked—and kissed up your stomach, pushing your shirt higher, his fingers still slow and deep inside you. “I plan on ruining a lot more.”

You grabbed at his shoulders, trying to pull him up, needing to feel his mouth on yours again. He let you, rising to his feet, his fingers still buried in you as he leaned to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

The kiss was filthy, desperate—laced with sugar and heat and something deeper. You moaned into his mouth, clinging to him as his hips pressed forward between your thighs, grinding slow and hard while his fingers thrust deeper.

You were already so close again. He knew it. You knew it.

After you came undone on his working hand, he pulled it free, eliciting you to whimper at the loss—only for him to hold your gaze, slide those same fingers into his mouth, and suck them clean.

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”

His hands grabbed your thighs, tugged you to the very edge of the counter, and lined himself up—his voice a low growl at your ear.

“You’re gonna let me have you right here, aren’t you? Right where we made the brownies.”

You nodded, dazed, wrecked already and aching for more.

“Good,” he said, kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. “Because I’m starving. And dessert’s just getting started.”

thx for reading! i hope i wrote felix well, this is my first skz fic lol

here u go ya filthy animal @burlesquerade

taglist: @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @burlesquerade @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo

[natsaffection]

Can you write a fic where reader and Natasha are best friends and one day reader comes back from a mission and Nat helps reader relax by giving her a massage and reader accidentally lets out a moan turning Nat on, and things get heated ending in sex?

(You can make Nat G!P or not it’s up to you, and sorry if this is bad, it’s my first time requesting something)

Relaxing. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, G!P Natasha, fingering, unprotected Sex, begging, rough Sex

Word count: 2,2k

A/n: Jesus Christ, Im sorry....

You stepped into Natasha's apartment, the weight of the mission still clinging to you like a heavy shroud. Your muscles ached from the effort, and you felt utterly exhausted. Natasha, ever perceptive, immediately noticed the tension in your posture as you sank onto the couch. "You look like you've been through hell." Natasha observed, her voice gentle but teasing as she approached you.

"That's exactly how it feels.." you replied with a tired smile, leaning back against the cushions. "Everything hurts." Natasha's eyes softened as she stood behind you, her hands hovering just above your shoulders. "Let me help,." she offered, her voice a soft murmur as she began to knead the tight muscles in your shoulders.

The moment Natasha's hands touched you, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Her fingers were strong and skillful, effortlessly working out the knots. You sighed and sank deeper into the sofa as the tension in your shoulders began to melt away. "You always know exactly where the knots are.." you murmured, closing your eyes as you surrendered to the soothing rhythm of Natasha's touch.

Natasha chuckled quietly, her hands moving lower, tracing the line of your spine with deliberate pressure. "I can practically feel the tension radiating off you." she said, "You need to relax more." You nodded slightly, too content to form words. Natasha's hands were like magic, taking away the stress and exhaustion that had accumulated throughout the day. But as her hands moved lower and gently pressed the small of your back, your body responded in a way you hadn't expected. When Natasha applied a bit more pressure to a particularly tense spot, you couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped your lips. The sound was quiet, almost involuntary, but it hung in the air between you, laden with unspoken tension.

Your eyes snapped open, your face flushing with embarrassment as you realized what had just happened. "I-I'm sorry..!" you stammered, your heart racing as you tried to pull back slightly, embarrassed that such a sound had slipped out. But Natasha didn't retreat. Instead, she paused for just a moment before continuing, her hands now moving with a new, deliberate slowness. "Don't be embarrassed." Natasha murmured, her voice taking on a seductive tone. "I like knowing that I'm making you feel good."

Your breath caught at her words, your mind spinning with the implications of what Natasha had just said. There was something in Natasha's voice, a subtle change that made it clear she had noticed more than just the moa..she had felt how your body had reacted, how you hadn't really pulled away. Her hands resumed their work, but now there was a different kind of tension in the air, one that made your pulse quicken. The touch was no longer just about relieving tension, it was intentional, exploratory, as if Natasha was testing the waters to see how far she could go.

As Natasha's hands glided lower, tracing the curve of your hips, she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "You don't have to hide anything from me." Natasha whispered, her voice soft and full of intent. "I know what you want, even if you're too shy to ask for it." Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel Natasha's hands hovering just above your hips, waiting for your response. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning into the touch, your body silently encouraging Natasha to continue.

Natasha's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she felt your reaction. "That's right.." Natasha whispered, her voice a soft, seductive purr. "Just relax..let me take care of you."

With that, Natasha's hands glided lower, her fingers brushing the tops of your thighs, lingering just a bit too long. Your breath quickened, your body tensing slightly under the intensity of Natasha's touch. You knew you should say something, should stop this before it went any further, but the truth was..you didn't want to. The realization hit you like a wave, and you felt a warm blush creep across your skin. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the tension between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. Natasha's touch, her voice, the way she was slowly breaking down your defenses, it was all too much, too intoxicating to resist.

As Natasha's fingers slipped just under the hem of your shorts, you let out a shaky breath, your whole body trembling with the intensity of the moment. "N-Natasha.." you whispered and her hands paused for a moment, her fingers gently caressing the skin just above your thighs. "Do you want me to stop?"

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. You could feel every nerve in your body yearning for Natasha's touch, the need inside you growing until it was almost unbearable. "No.." you whispered finally, your voice barely audible. "Don't stop."

That was all the encouragement Natasha needed. Her hands resumed their slow, deliberate exploration, sliding lower, closer to your center. The touch was gentle, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity through your body, drawing another soft, involuntary moan from you. Natasha's breath was warm against your ear as she whispered, "Good girl."

Natasha's fingers moved skillfully at your entrance, drawing soft moans and shivers from you. The intensity of the moment was palpable, each touch and whisper pulling you deeper into a state of desire you hadn't fully realized. As Natasha continued, you could feel the tension building in your body, and you knew you couldn't hold out much longer without wanting more. Needing more.

"Natasha.." Your voice was a breathless whisper, filled with a mix of need and uncertainty. But Natasha didn't give you time to think. Instead, she pressed a firm, demanding kiss to your lips, silencing you with a possessive hunger that left no doubt about how much she wanted this. Natasha's hands roamed over your body with a confidence born from years of desire, her touch firm and determined, as if staking a claim.

"Shh.." Natasha murmured against your lips, her voice deep and thick with desire. "You're mine tonight." Her hands were no longer gentle as they moved lower, roughly pulling down your clothing, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. You gasped at the sudden roughness, your body tensing for a moment before surrendering to the sensation of Natasha's demanding touch. Natasha's breath was hot against your neck as she trailed kisses and nibbles down your skin, each touch filled with an intensity that spoke of her pent-up desire. She had waited far too long for this moment, and now that she had you in her arms, she wasn't going to hold back.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this.." Natasha growled, her voice a mix of frustration and longing as she pressed harder against you, drawing a soft moan from you. Your mind was spinning, caught up in the roughness of Natasha's touch, in the way she seemed to unravel as she gave in to her desires. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt a surge of excitement and power. You could feel Natasha's need, her raw, unbridled lust, and it awakened something deep within you.

When Natasha thrust into you with a hard, unrelenting stroke, you cried out, your body arching under her as she filled you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, Natasha was thick, stretching you in a way that made you feel utterly possessed. But it wasn't just the physical feeling that made your heart race, it was the way Natasha moved, the raw, animalistic lust that fueled every rough thrust, every satisfied growl.

"Fuck, you feel so good.." Natasha moaned, her voice hoarse as she set a merciless pace, pounding into you with a ferocity that spoke of her desperate need. "You're so fucking tight."

"Natasha..G-God..!" your words were cut off by another deep thrust, your back arching as Natasha hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Please.. don't stop!" Natasha's grip on your hips tightened, her fingers digging into your skin as she pulled you closer, your bodies colliding with each thrust. The roughness, the dominance, it was exactly what you had craved, what you hadn't even known you needed until now.

You moaned loudly, your voice trembling as Natasha's pace grew faster and harder, each thrust more intense than the last. "Is this what you wanted?" Natasha growled, her voice dark and commanding as she leaned down, her lips brushing your ear. "Tell me. Tell me how much you wanted this."

"Yes..Y-Yes! Natasha..I wanted this..I wanted you- fuck!" your words came out breathless, your mind barely able to keep up with the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel yourself losing control, as Natasha pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Her lips curled into a wicked smile at your confession, her thrusts growing even more intense as she drove herself into you with a force that left you gasping for breath. "Good." Natasha purred, her voice deep and full of satisfaction. "Because now that I have you, I'm not letting you go." Natasha whispered, "I'm going to make sure you feel every single inch of me.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you tried to hold on, to maintain control, but Natasha gave you no chance. Every movement, every thrust was designed to break you, to drive you deeper into the pleasure that Natasha so skillfully conjured.

“You belong to me..” Natasha growled, her hand burying itself in your hair, pulling your head back as she leaned over you, her breath hot against your neck. “Say it. Say that you belong to me.”

“I’m-I’m yours, Natasha..!” you gasped, your voice trembling under the intensity of the sensations crashing over you. “I’m yours..Godd..” These words seemed to drive Natasha even further. With a deep, wild growl, she turned you onto your stomach, her movements rough and demanding as she positioned you exactly how she wanted. Natasha’s hands gripped your hips firmly, her nails digging into your skin as she aligned herself with you again, thrusting into you with a force that made you cry out loudly in both pleasure and surprise.

“Damn, yes..” Natasha moaned, her voice filled with raw lust as she pounded into you with a brutal pace, each thrust hitting deep and eliciting loud, desperate moans from you. “You feel so damn good, so tight..so perfect..” Your mind was a haze of lust and pain, the roughness of Natasha’s thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. “Natasha..please, I can’t..I-I’m going to..”

Natasha’s hand slid between your legs, her fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with a rough, practiced touch that made your whole body tense in response. “That’s right.” Natasha murmured, her voice filled with command and satisfaction as she felt you tighten around her. “Come for me, I want to feel it.”

Your breath caught, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. You could feel yourself losing control, the roughness, the intensity of Natasha’s thrusts, her fingers working on your clit, it was too much, too good, and you could feel yourself falling, the climax rushing towards you with unstoppable force.

Natasha’s thrusts became more erratic, more desperate as she neared her own climax, her breath hot and uneven against your ear. “You belong to me.” she growled, her voice rough with need. “Completely mine.”

With one last, deep thrust, your world shattered. You screamed Natasha’s name, your body convulsing under the weight of your orgasm as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in Natasha’s arms. Natasha continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm with rough, powerful movements that extended the pleasure until you thought you might pass out from the intensity.

Natasha’s own orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking as she buried herself deep inside you, her orgasm hitting her with a force that left her gasping for air. For a moment, you were both lost in the intensity of your climax, your bodies trembling in the aftershocks. When Natasha finally pulled out of you, she collapsed beside you, pulling you into her arms with a tenderness that stood in stark contrast to the roughness of her earlier actions. You were still catching your breath, your body tingling from the aftereffects of your intense encounter.

Natasha looked down at you, her expression softening as she brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice now filled with gentle concern. You smiled up at her, your heart still racing, but filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. “More than okay..” you whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Natasha’s lips.

Natasha returned the kiss, this one slow and tender, filled with the unspoken promise of many more moments like this. As you lay there, in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel that you had crossed a linem, one that had been waiting far too long to be crossed by the two of you. And now that you had, there was no going back.

[edu-art9]

https://www.edu-art.in/exploratory-testing-in-agile/

In this Blog, we will delve into the benefits of utilizing exploratory testing in an agile environment and how it helps unlock the true potential of software quality assurance. We’ll explore the reasons why agile teams are embracing this approach and how it complements their fast-paced and iterative development cycles. 

[wtfsteveharrington]

"an exploratory kiss, testing the waters between them" with Luca please!

a/n: i love luca so so bad i fear s3 has giving me horrific brain rot for him baby boy i’m knocking on ur door and getting on one knee

contents: kissing, some pda, cluelessness, all my faves

"I mean... I think we're just friends, right?"

Luca takes a long swig from his cold beer pint. Using the drink as an excuse to buy himself time to think. It was some draft IPA that was just the perfect level of pretentious where he didn’t look like a dick but separated himself from some domestic bottle. Something that would matter to no one except a man with his level of perception anxiety. Condensation dripping down his wrist which your eyes follow, trailing the drops as they roll down his forearm.

"Right. And would it be worth risking things between us to test out... Something more? Because I don't want to lose you just to find out we’re being a touch crazy.”

"I don't want to lose you either." You rush out after his sentence, shaking your head while resting your hands on your knees. The rough material of your jeans against your palms helping to keep you grounded.

It had been a half an hour since you and Luca passed some wonderful older woman on the street who needed directions. Luca was able to relay them by heart, though it didn’t stop you from double checking on your phone to ensure you didn’t send her off on a misguided path. She beamed at the two of you once she knew her way, patting Luca’s arm and asking the question that has broken the two of you ever since. “How long have you two been married?”

To which the two of you sputtered out a mess of words, none of which made any sense, and the older woman gave a tsk tsk tsk. “You better propose before it’s too late. Shouldn’t let such a catch get away.” The takes off on her journey. Both of you stood their with your jaws dropped before you finally started continuing on your path to the bar and trying to laugh it off.

But neither of you could let it go.

“We could-…“ You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back and strengthening your resolve, “We could kiss? That way we can feel there’s nothing there and get it out of minds.”

Luca stares down at his beer, eyeing the way the foam is slowly dissipating and contemplating his options. “Just one kiss?”

You nod, “Just one. Lips only, no tongue, nothing crazy.”

His body’s turning to you, eyes filled with apprehension. Searching your face for any sign of doubt, which he doesn’t find, before nodding back to you. “Just one. We’re realize how silly this is and put it behind us.”

Luca’s hand comes to rest on top of yours, the bar suddenly feeling so much warmer and intimate than before. Thankfully no one was paying attention to your little table tucked away in the back corner. He’s watching your breathing, watching your expression. Catches your tongue dart out to moisten your lips and he does the same.

He’s close enough now where you can feel the warmth rolling off his body, you can hear each steady breath he takes. “Just… Stop me if this is weird, yeah?”

You nod, leaning in as well until your noses brush against each other and your eyes fall closed before your lips connect against his. They’re slightly cold from his drink, hints of beer still on his lips. You stay connected for just a moment before you pull away, eyeing him apprehensively.

“How was that?”

He sucks in some air, staying close to you still. “It was, uhm, chaste. To say the least.”

There’s a flush on your cheeks at that.

“Well… I mean, We can do a real kiss if you want.”

Luca’s eyes are on yours, his hand moving to slide up your thigh and grabs ahold of it. “We should just make sure, y’know? Because that told me nothing.”

It’s a flawed plan but you’re not thinking as clearly with him this close.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you bring the two of you closer once again. Your lips finding his and you let out a soft moan as you feel his part under yours. He takes the chance to let his tongue slide against your bottom lip before slipping between your lips and into your mouth. You lace one of your hands in his hair while his free arm wraps around your waist now.

It’s his turn to groan into the kiss. The sound causes you to press your thighs together while your tongue moves along his. Your breathing is picking up and you’re convinced he can hear just how hard your heart is beating.

He tastes sweet. The IPA mixed with vanilla from the custard he kept having to taste during service. It was addicting to say the least.

Minutes, hours, days pass by as you lose yourself in him. Eventually you hear him groan, pulling back slightly to press another kiss to your bottom lip before leaning back in his chair. Beaming at your shocked expression.

Your hand comes up, fingers resting against your lips as you chase the feeling of the kiss. Oh.

Luca has to adjust himself on the seat, chuckling at the sight of you as he tries to relax his breathing. “She, uh, she might have known what she was talking about.”

Luca looks smug, even with his blushing cheeks, as he takes another drink of his beer. His hand never leaving your thigh.

[hellyeahscarleteen]

Maybe you’ve noticed: there’s been a shift in how people and movements that are anti-trans present themselves, and it feels designed to make them more palatable to people who would otherwise recoil at arguments that position trans people as threats. They don’t hate trans people! They’re very concerned about them! Think of the risks! Think of the children!! If that language sounds familiar, it’s because the anti-abortion movement uses this same playbook. Just like a crisis pregnancy center might advertise itself as offering pre-natal care, counseling or free pregnancy tests, an anti-trans provider might offer “gender exploratory” therapy or claim to offer valuable information on the “harms” of transition. Just like reporters being too willing to parrot unsubstantiated, anti-choice claims to the greater public, anti-trans groups are using places like the New York Times—and the fact that many people within those spaces were already held anti-trans beliefs-- to spread misinformation and position their “experts” as the reliable voices on trans care. Quite contrary to articles that claim people are being rushed through transition, accessing gender affirming care remains difficult for most people, especially young people. There are a limited number of places that provide it (and, due to transphobic violence both digital and physical, some of the places that used to aren’t able to anymore), waiting lists, and a dozen other barriers to access. Not to mention that plenty of elements of transition, especially physical transition, require at least a letter from a therapist. And now, on top of that, you have healthcare providers and resources who seek only to discourage or pressure all trans and nonbinary folks into not transitioning. This is a recipe for trans folks, or the people helping them access care, to walk right into a trap, and enables ongoing, anti-trans bias more broadly. Here's a guide from Scarleteen co-director Sam Wall to help trans people, and especially, adults in the lives of trans young people, to identify legitimate — and illegitimate — sources of trans care.

[erikawrites13]

Racing Hearts

During a Formula 1 race weekend, Oscar Piastri and the reader share an undeniable chemistry that quickly escalates beyond casual glances. In the quiet of the garage, away from the chaos, they give in to their intense attraction. What starts as a dangerous game of secrecy builds into a heated, passionate encounter, where the thrill of the risk and the intensity of their connection keep them both on the edge. It’s a race against time, where the stakes are high, and neither is willing to stop.

The night was thick with the aftertaste of the race. The sound of engines had died down, but the energy lingered in the air, charging everything with a crackling intensity. You were still riding the high, feeling the rush of adrenaline in your bloodstream as you navigated through the paddock. The chaos had softened—no more crowds, no more cameras, just the hum of distant voices and the occasional screech of tires from testing nearby.

But there was something else in the air, something that had nothing to do with the race. The space between you and Oscar had narrowed to something palpable, something that felt dangerously close. Every time your eyes met, the world shifted around you, distorting everything but the tension that clung to you both.

It had started innocently enough—a few glances exchanged during the practice runs, a shared laugh after the media circus. But tonight, everything was different. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and the air seemed to thicken with the knowledge that this moment—this opportunity—wouldn’t last forever. The world of Formula 1 moved fast, and so did its players. Time was fleeting. And you both knew it.

You made your way to the team garage, weaving through the last stragglers, hoping to catch a few moments alone. The walls of the paddock were still buzzing, but it wasn’t the usual frenzy—it was quieter, more intimate, and the noise of the outside world seemed to fade as you moved further into the shadows. The lights were dimmer here, but they were enough to catch the flash of someone familiar at the edge of the corridor.

Oscar.

He leaned against the wall of the garage, a smirk tugging at his lips when he caught sight of you. His dark eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite place. Confidence. Curiosity. But there was also something more... something dangerous lurking beneath that cool exterior.

"Thought I might find you here," he said, his voice low but not without the usual teasing edge. He straightened up, stepping toward you with a quiet, deliberate pace.

"Did you?" You smiled, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. But it was impossible. The way he moved—the way he looked at you—was like a slow burn that had been growing in intensity ever since the moment your eyes first met.

The space between you was too small now, the tension thickening with each step he took. Oscar stopped just in front of you, his chest inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his body, the warmth radiating off him, mixing with the lingering buzz of the race. You had never been so aware of someone in your life.

He leaned down slightly, his breath a whisper against your ear. "You’re hard to resist, you know that?" His voice was darker now, a layer of something more primal under the playful teasing. "I’ve been thinking about this all day."

Your heart skipped a beat. “Thinking about what?”

Before you could even brace yourself, his hand was at the small of your back, pulling you in closer. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. His lips met yours in a kiss that was slow, exploratory, but with an intensity that immediately stole your breath. He tasted like the adrenaline of the race, like the high that came with pushing limits and taking risks. The kind of kiss that ignited something deep in your chest, something that made the rest of the world feel far away.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Here?" you whispered, glancing around. The garage was almost deserted, but you never knew who could come around the corner. But that thought, that little seed of caution, only fueled the fire between you both. The risk of being caught—of being seen—added a layer of heat to everything, like a racecar teetering on the edge of losing control.

Oscar’s eyes darkened, his smirk widening. "You’re not afraid, are you?"

His words sent a thrill through you, one that spiraled into something reckless. You were playing a dangerous game, but in this moment, you didn’t care. You wanted this. You needed this. You felt alive in a way that only someone who was used to racing on the edge could understand.

"No," you breathed, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through his suit. “Not afraid.”

Oscar’s lips crashed into yours again, this time with more urgency. His hand cupped your face, pulling you deeper into the kiss as his other hand found the curve of your waist, slipping underneath your shirt, the contact sending a jolt through your body.

The sounds of the paddock—laughter, chatter, the occasional whir of machinery—faded away. It was just the two of you now, hidden in the shadows of the garage, racing toward something both thrilling and dangerous. You were burning up, the heat of his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

His lips trailed down your neck, each kiss a searing reminder of how close you were to the edge. “You sure about this?” he whispered, his voice rough, each word more of a challenge than a question. His hand moved lower, teasing the waistband of your pants, before pausing, waiting for your response.

You met his gaze, the flickering light casting shadows on his face. "I’ve never been more sure."

With that, he kissed you again, his hands more confident now, pulling you against him as his body pressed into yours, the heat of his form matching the storm that was raging inside you. His movements were sharp, deliberate, each touch pushing the boundaries of what was public and what was private. The risk of discovery, the possibility of being caught, made everything feel even more intense.

Oscar’s breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “We can’t stay here long, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it count.”

His hands slid beneath your shirt once more, pulling it over your head quickly, and you did the same for him, the urgency of it all making you both move faster. The world outside was a blur now. There was no longer a race to win—only the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips on your body, and the sweet thrill of a forbidden moment that neither of you wanted to end.

The garage was cool, but the heat between you both was unbearable. You could feel him, hard and determined, pressed against you as you moved together, pushing the limits, testing the boundaries. You had both crossed into something dangerous, but there was no going back now. The only thing that mattered was the wild, uncontrollable rush—the feeling of being utterly lost in the moment, caught between the world that was watching and the private place only you two inhabited.

Oscar pulled back, his eyes burning with desire. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough and low. “Let’s make this last a little longer, yeah?”

And you did. Because in that moment, nothing else existed. It was just the two of you, racing against time, against the world, with no finish line in sight.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - April 8-14

Based on preliminary results of this poll, for the next few weeks I’m gonna test out doing 5 articles a week instead of 10, as part of an effort to maintain my own mental health. If these half-sized posts get markedly fewer notes, I’ll try to figure out a different compromise.

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Zookeepers prepare Easter treats for animals

“”Our Asiatic lion cubs, who have just turned one, are at a crucial stage in their development, honing their natural exploratory and hunting instincts. Enrichment — like the enormous, scented Easter egg — plays an important role in this, helping to diversify their habitat and encouraging them to fully engage their strength and remarkably keen sense of smell.””

2. ‘People love being here’: London development shows harmony between nature and housing

“[… T]he charmingly named Tadpole Garden Village in Wiltshire will have 28 hectares (68 acres) of green space and nearly 2,000 homes. […] “We were initially brought in to find a nature-based solution to the flooding of the River Quaggy. We linked it to a floodplain and created sustainable urban drainage systems[….]””

3. Federal judge restores AP’s full access to White House events in victory for press freedom

“The ruling affirms that the First Amendment prohibits punishing journalists for refusing to adopt government-mandated language[….] “"Today’s ruling affirms the fundamental right of the press and public to speak freely without government retaliation.””

4. Huge Reductions in Plastic Pollution Along Aussie Coastlines

“[… P]lastic pollution along Australian coastlines has decreased by more than a third (39 per cent) over the past ten years[…. Other research found] a 16 percent increase in areas where no plastic debris was found at all.”

5. Pangolarium: world's first pangolin rehab facility opens in South Africa

“A purpose-built facility like the Pangolarium will give rescued pangolins the best chance at regaining health. Monitored release back into the wild is the goal whenever possible[….] “It will also be a research and conservation hub for pangolin academics, rehabilitators and veterinarians to share information and knowledge[….]””

April 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[drjae69]

CLINICAL DOMINATION

Doctor Mistress Angela and recently opened a practice, the specialized in clinical domination for a certain clientele and even for novice . For most of her day, she sees slaves , cucks and sissies she brings them into her office has them stripped down until there bude than to lay down out on her bed . She than restrain them and puts gloves on their hands and feet so they can’t hurt her as she works. Once they’re set, she can examine them . once she has her gloves on she appraises her patience gripping them examining there genitals an does exploratory anal and vaginal exams . As she loves to feel around sometimes her fingers utter times her fist depending on how loose their ass or vagina are . If her patient proved to be less than cooperative, she will sedate them lightly as so far do not fight her and be more docile yet still feeling her . Angela specializes in sexual massages and milking. For her female patients, she robs and pleasures them enough just so before robbing them of the orgasm and ruining it . She does similar with her male patient jerking them off and adding them to the point of orgasm, but denying them or ruining it, but if she’s milking, she’ll allow it, but containing the discharge in a condom that she will promptly throw away or if requested by the mistress have the patient eat it . She is also capable of performing limited procedures . On occasion she has performed bilateral orchiectomy on her male patients. Removing the testes and probably displaying them in her formaldehyde filled mason jar however these services do not come cheap . She also is a practitioner and permanent chastity . After granting them a final request they are permanently shut and welded into their small metal cage . She then inserted the catheter which she changes out regularly for the more squeamish of slaves and mistress she also gives out referrals to more expensive invasive urinary solution in involving rerouting and through the kidneys and out a tube into the badder bag allowing the full withering away of the penis. Dr. mistress Angela performs a vital service for her community and wouldn’t have it any other way.