[F4M] Black Dork With A Passionate (Deep) Love For Bad Men~! (Modern & Fantasy Inside!) | Detailed, Long-Term!

It's cliché, I know... But can you blame a dork for writing about the one fantasy she can't have?

The taboo and forbidden nature of this style of story is the major draw for me—I love characters doing something that's just a straight-up bad idea! The second aspect of this is I love this trope in stories (yes, steamy ones too~) for how the characters interact (that push and pull, that heated closeness, the way the dork's lewd mind is read by someone ready to match her freak~!) and the third is the potential to couple all this with lore/story to truly piece all these aspects together for a comprehensive, descriptive, and potentially long-term collaboration! Open to lots of different settings, time periods, and new suggestions if they follow the theme.

Basically, I've written example posts for all concepts, each with a summary of the idea. Feel free to suggest changes! All prompts can be written using the original or something entirely fresh! Open to further plotting, or just winging the whole thing for a fun time!

I use Reddit and Discord.

--------------------

Plot Concept 1: Dork & Don!

--------------------

Well.

"Mmphlucckk!"

This wasn't the way an interrogation was meant to end. Screw any concern for the law, she was pretty damn sure evidence of tonight was enough to have her blocked from every division in the country.

The heat of her mouth was a wet welcome between her full lips, glasses tilted across her nose as her gaze flickered up at the man. All the refinement of suit and tie couldn't make the scene that unraveled between his legs any manner of professional.

A detective out for his own heart, perhaps.

Pop.

Slowly, those full lips eased from around his cock. Drool collected along the corner of her mouth; her attention shifted away. She heard the weighty click of her own heart, and the back of her hand wiped across her mouth.

How did this even happen?

She wasn't down to her underwear, but it was quite close. Her shirt was unbuttoned to the belly, tits cupped in a black lace bra that demanded more attention than it got. Her skin, a deep chestnut, glistened with freshly beaded sweat under the amber of the lamplight. Worse, the skirt she'd so carefully ironed out that very morning was bunched up over her plump ass, wrinkled.

"Fuck..." She bit her bottom lip. "We can't keep doing this... My boss—" She groaned. "Your boss—You're his secondhand, for fucks sake... He'll kill you, then finish me off with some low-tier..." Her voice trailed off. She slowly eased from her knee, right into his lap.

"Goons... Fuck, you've... You're hard?" She pressed her ass against his cock, and began a slow, steady grind against him. She curled her polished nails into his shirt, her gaze shifted between his face and the cock nudged between her cheeks.

"This still isn't... A good idea."

Summary: Dorky detective is comically bad at the biggest rule of the job: don't fuck the criminals. This is only combated by the second-worst person at the job, the mafia boss's second hand, who slept with the law in return. That balances out, right?

--------------------

Plot Concept 2: Street Racing!

--------------------

"Something's been on my mind as of lately..." She shuffled in the passenger seat, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she debated a way to get the words out and into the air.

The relationship was still relatively young, though, to be honest, rather unconventional. Everyone knew that she was a bit more reserved than anyone he brought around them all before. That fact was only emphasized when she learned about his history with women.

Specifically... Their sexual boldness.

Life in the underbelly of the larger city was that way, though. The culture counters the normalcy and blends the fun of music with the freedom of fast cars and sexually liberated women.

She was never that, but her keen interest in lifestyles brought her into the fold and deepened her interests. She didn't need to be...

"Can we have sex in your car?"

Well, then.

"I mean... So, I looked into it, and if I bring a specific type of cleanser, it should be easy to remove any accidental stains from the material. I could bring a towel for backup, and maybe a few napkins to keep around in case we have to clean up?"

Envy was a bitch, but it apparently did bring a few benefits. Ever since she learned about these past girlfriends, she'd been shifty. All that time on that laptop of hers, and he'd only considered that she must've been busy with work.

Not... Research.

Summary: Thinking a goodie-two-shoes nerd ends up in a relationship with a delinquent man who races and sells cars (legally, sometimes...) with a bit of a reputation for his fast life. It'll involve some story around a bit of light cuckqueening, criminal background, and, for a fun flair, I think she'll be the daughter of the local police chief~? Lots of drama to be had.

--------------------

Plot Concept 3: All's Fair in Love & Fuckin' Warlords

--------------------

The critical period was over.

She sighed. Relieved. Nervous. She didn't know which emotion was primary in that moment, but she knew the man would survive his injuries.

And by extension... Her, too. Regardless of how figuratively that was.

"You shouldn't turn your body that much." He began to stir, and she crawled her way back to his side. Tonight was perhaps the most vulnerable the man had ever been in his life, whilst under the care of such an unfamiliar face. Stripped to nothing, every weapon discarded save for his fist. Bandage after bandage was wrapped around his body, every cut, bruise, and wound covered with a balm and tender, attentive care.

"I'm a medic. I do you no harm." She plucked a discarded blanket from beside him. Must've slipped off when he moved the first time?

"Oh..." She let her attention wander to him. When the professional veil was dropped, it was easy to see the appeal of a man who'd worked with his body.

But... That was improper. Strictly clinical.

She pulled the blanket back over his body. "I figure you must be about with your own questions, or perhaps... More keen to choke the answers out of me?" Not that she would've minded that part. "I'd like to assure you neither need to be forced. You are away from your men and your horses, but... It would be simple to help you back, if you could provide me with a bit of something as well? I've needs... Places to be, places you've the reputation to travel through."

And so, the tougher part.

"It's... It's not a threat—To be clear." Unless that threat ended in ways most favorable for the cunt.

Gods. Her mind was perverted, wasn't it?

Summary: Dorky medic meets hardened warlord, and you know "exactly" how that's going to end. The constant fight. The pressure of reputation. The vigor of war. Hard, rough, primitive sex of the filthiest order~! RAH!