Krevmh's Kinktober 2025

Day 1 - Drunk Sex/Friends With Benefits - Cyberpunk 2077

V was, at this point, drunker than she’d intended to be.

“I mean, this girl went totally pyscho near the end,” She babbled. “I don’t wanna use the term bitch, but.”

“You clearly do,” Jackie murmured back over his beer.

“Look, I don’t!” V insisted. She’d started with Moscow mules, but at a certain point had begun to accept straight vodka. That was usually where the night proper ended and the blurry, embarrassing memories part began. But tonight, blissful, humiliating blackout eluded her. “Because I’ve been the ‘bitch’ before. You don’t just call somebody a bitch because they freak out or act irrational during a breakup. Everybody does it, guys just pretend they don’t, then call the girl a bitch no matter what she does.”

“But you wouldn’t have brought it up if you weren’t thinking it, chica,” Jackie’s expression had shifted, clearly aware she was drunk and humoring her.

V couldn’t stop herself, and could feel some distantly conscious part of her brain reeling in embarrassment. She turned toward him and tried to push her hair out of her eye, it kept making her vision blurry. But she realized her hair was already pinned back. Oh god, she was crying drunk, wasn’t she? Didn’t matter. She needed to impress, with the utmost sincerity and depth, how aware she was that the girl she was calling a bitch didn’t deserve to be called a bitch. Even though she had been a total bitch at the end.

“I mean, like-” V started, then realized she didn’t have a full sentence prepared and started over. “She didn’t stab the speakers to my stereo or anything, but she was going nuts. Started talking about predestination and shit. Said her AI assistant called us a perfect match, called it fate that we met.”

“That’s why you gotta stay away from anybody using one of those things, usually their soulkilled dad or granny.” Jackie commented unhelpfully. “Least with star signs, it’s all platitudes.”

“We met at a noodle joint, Jackie.” V slurred. “Seems like a shitty place for destiny.”

“If it’s meant for ya, it’s meant for ya.” Jackie shrugged.

“Don’t tell me you’re into that shit too,” V tried to sound teasing but there was still enough of a quiver in her voice that it probably didn’t register.

“Comes and goes,” Jackie responded noncommittally. “If you work on Pacifica, more likely to die from cancer or drowning, eh? Doesn’t mean you’re destined for it, but you’re writing your future with your past.”

“But that doesn’t mean that since you’re destined to die from cancer, you choose to work on Pacifica-” V started, then felt a dangerous, bile-filled burp. She set her vodka down and gave the bartender a queasy **** signal. There was a glass of water next to her drink a second later.

“You really want to have this conversation this many sheets to the wind, chica?” Jackie looked at her apologetically.

“No,” V responded curtly, nursing the water, then taking another taste of vodka. Suddenly, it had some of its punch back. V realized she’d probably downed a whole lot more of them than she’d meant to as they’d smoothed out. That she had no idea how many was a bad, baaad sign. “But I want to cry about it and this is the part of it I’m crying about.”

“Ay,” Jackie looked a little ashamed of himself for asking.

“I mean, we got freewill, right?” V tried to lurch right back into things.

“Sure.” Jackie started to fidget with the label of his Calavera. “You can choose to brush your teeth every morning, not like you can choose to wake up anywhere but the place you laid your head.”

“So can two people be meant for each other?” V asked.

“Fuck if I know,” Jackie tried to look anywhere other than at her for the moment. “Feel like that’s a different conversation.”

“How?” V sounded more indignant than she meant to. “If shit’s predetermined-”

“I’m not saying it is,” Jackie groaned. “If all you date is redheads with too many tattoos, that doesn’t mean your future wife is one and you’re looking for her. But it does mean your future wife is probably gonna be a redhead with too many tattoos.”

“You saying I have a type?” V asked after a moment’s pause, feeling her ears blushing.

“I’m saying if you live rough, there’s always a bullet with your name on it.” Jackie sat back and tilted his face to the ceiling. “Only reason the ones you’ve dodged didn’t have it is you dodged them. People put the order on things wrong. Every bullet has everybody’s name on it till it doesn’t.”

“So that’s a no on predetermination.” V frowned.

“Comes and goes.” Jackie echoed. “I think people like the idea that there’s a script and that they make it out okay at the end of it.”

“Nobody wants to be the main character of a tragedy,” V mumbled.

“And yet, here we are,” Jackie snorted, then after a second he reached out and rubbed her neck with a bear-paw sized hand. “Sorry you went through that, chica.”

“Went through what?” V asked genuinely, then it clicked back into place. “Right, the breakup.”

“Seems like you’re doing alright dealing with it.” Jackie congratulated her.

“Not really,” V feigned holding her hands out in front of her and swaying from side to side. “I’m drinking way too much, I’m going out in my skimpiest outfit looking for rebound tail, hanging out with shady characters.”

“Shit, bad decisions with friends can’t be that bad, right?” Jackie took a long drink of his beer, “Shady or not.”

“Sorry,” Even though it was hardly an offense, V still mumbled an apology after a second’s pause. “I’m really drunk.”

“I’m aware,” Jackie responded in good humor. “You’ve called me worse, chica.”

A silence passed between them - or the relative silence of a semi-dead bar with plaintive wailing coming through its overhead speakers could provide. The bartender looked older and sadder than the woodwork he was polishing and the song overhead sounded older still, a dreadful electronic cello dirge with some moping hybrid-driving wailing about his nonexistent truck overtop.

“Why did we come to Rustys?” V asked. “There’s never any good tail at Rustys.”

“I saw what you were wearing and called you a cowgirl, that perked you right up. Think you were pregaming.” Jackie’s voice was casually teasing. “Expect you wanted to put some tears in your beer, but then you sat down and ordered ‘fighting drunk’ V cocktails.”

V glanced down and then up toward the bar mirror. She had all but forgotten her outfit, a pair of daisy dukes that she couldn’t remember where or how she’d gotten - let alone why she kept - as well as a tank-top with clearly little enough underneath that the bars through her nipples remained a constant out-poking factor. Despite herself, she blushed. The fact that the barman wasn’t even looking at her made her wonder if she’d been sitting like this for a very long time indeed.

“Shit, I might really be in a bad way,” V declared dramatically as she slumped against Jackie’s shoulder. “I wanted to go here even knowing there wouldn’t be a good rebound hookup.”

“I don’t think you’re looking for a rebound, chica.” Jackie sighed. Even drunk, she could see him trying very hard not to look down her tank top.

“Shit, that’s news to me.” V leaned in a little closer.

“You don’t do well with rebounds.” Jackie tried to crack a joke. “Last one you damn-near married despite not speaking a lick of Japanese. Said you could make do with a translator chip.”

“He was fun though,” V fidgeted with her drink. There was little enough vodka left that she could have easily drained it and cut herself off there. And it seemed like such a waste of perfectly shit liquor to leave it. But at the same time, she found herself right in a happy floating point of sloppy but alert. Her whole body felt warm, and any slight interference could tip the scales too far in one direction or the other. “What makes you think I don’t want a rebound?”

“Outside of taking me to Rustys?” Jackie glanced her way and back again. “You haven’t so much as said a word to anybody.”

“Yeah, none of them are hot.” V snorted. “Besides, I like talking to you.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” Jackie rolled his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” V looked up at him sharply. When Jackie wouldn’t return her gaze, she gave his forearm a squeeze.

“Relax, chica. Didn’t mean anything by it.” Jackie gently removed her grip from his arm with ease. Honestly, she’d probably hurt her hand more than she’d hurt him. Even in his baggy jacket, his shoulders were about twice as wide as her hips. She’d seen him fight, but even then he looked like he was pulling his punches the majority of the time. “When people are really **** for some rebound tail, they make bad decisions. Let the beer goggles talk.”

“Maybe my beer goggles are just better than most people’s.” V prattled.

Jackie snorted, not even humoring her with a full response. V pulled away from his shoulder and glared at him. She wasn’t offended - not really. But she could act offended, and she fully intended to.

“Give me at least a little credit here,” She huffed after a moment.

“Nope,” Jackie responded tartly.

“Is that why you don’t rebound?” V snorted back. “So you can act high and mighty about it?”

“I’m a simple man, darlin.” He took on a fake drawl for just a moment as he held up his hands showily. “Friend to many, loyal to fewer. Keep my women close and don’t let them go easy. Just try to be there for them when they need me.”

“That your angle, pardner?” V leaned against his shoulder once more. “I came here knowing there’d be nobody to hit on but you?”

“You said it, chica, not me.” Jackie smiled just smugly enough for it to piss her off.

“Well then you,” V pushed herself off of his shoulder and gave him a surly finger. “Can go fuck yourself, pardner. I’m not too drunk for pride.”

“For you? Not sure there’s enough liquor in the world.” Jackie snickered, and got a punch in the arm for it.

***

Jackie wound up knocking her head against her front door with the kiss, filling her mouth with the taste of iron and briefly knocking the sense out of her - what semblance remained. Her hands darted into the recesses of his jacket and everywhere they searched found seemingly red-hot, firm skin. Their outline must have looked like he was enveloping her, swallowing her whole. She could almost have been happy just darting into his chest and burrowing into his coat, immersing herself in his heat, his sweat, and that just barely too-much like a dad’s cologne he wore. Some part of her reeling mind tried to remind her that she was drunk enough not to taste the **** on his breath, even though he could certainly taste it on hers. Not drunk enough to make a mistake with a stranger, apparently. But just drunk enough to call the casual stuff back on. She marveled at how he could get it up, considering he probably couldn’t see anything past all the red flags.

“You gonna get that thing open, or are we doing it where your neighbors can see?” He grunted after a moment.

“I’m trying!” V’s voice was a needy little squeal just on the border of what she would be embarrassed about. “It’s hard to work the chip with one hand.”

“You’re not using either hand,” He grinned.

“Right,” She gulped, darting one of her arms out of his jacket for long enough to press the cyberwear in her arm against her door.

It slid open suddenly enough that she was falling backward, but Jackie had his arms around her back before she could. He hoisted her effortlessly over his shoulder and clomped his way into her apartment on his heavy boots, bouncing her enough with each step to make her genuinely nauseous.

“Su casa, mi casa,” He declared loudly as the door slid shut behind them.

“Put me down!” She tried her best to make it sound less like a bratty demand and more like an actual complaint. “I’m gonna be sick if you keep bouncing me.”

A second later, V bounced off of her bed as Jackie bodily tossed her through the air. She let out a scream she definitely wasn’t proud of, and it took a moment to refind her coordination and pull herself less ass over teakettle. When she had, Jackie was stepping out of his boots, shrugging out of his jacket.

He was… the first phrase that came to mind was ‘impressive specimen’ but even thinking that felt weird. More accurately he was a mountain of a man and in about as good of shape as you could be while still drinking as much as he did and eating the cart food shit that he loved. His weird samurai haircut only seemed to make his head look even more like a peak amongst foothills, culminating in the little black topknot at the utmost point of his tannish dome. His arms were big enough to show some of his strength, but he hadn’t devolved into a mess of cyberwear and veins like the real freaks all eventually did. In exactly the same way, there was just enough of a paunch to round out the gut of his tank top. Even though his jeans were supposed to be baggy - judging by the fit of parts of them - his legs filled them out enough for them to look too tight in places. Certainly the crotch, at least at this current moment. As he approached her bed and climbed one knee onto it, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist of her jean shorts, yanking her over and drawing another less-than-dignified yelp.

“You sure you’re not too drunk for this, chica?” He asked in a low, patient voice. Bedroom talk, but not there yet. Door-to-the-bedroom talk. “It’s still pretty easy to hit the brakes at this point.”

“Jackie, baby. Easy to hit the brakes for you.” V squirmed uncomfortably, his knuckles still pressed into her waist. “I’ve been at the point where I gotta wash these panties for a while.”

“You weren’t gonna wash them before?” He tilted his head and grinned.

“Fuck off,” She weakly kicked at him.

“No, but seriously, V.” Jackie let go of her waistband with all but one finger. “Are you sure you want this? Can you even consent right now?”

“Jackie, your being nice and decent is starting to bug the shit out of me.” V frowned and scooted closer, trying to grab his belt. “We’ve drunked fucker- fucked drunker ‘n this.”

“And I asked you then, too,” He crawled over her enough to kiss her. “This part of things ain’t optional.”

“That how you keep your girls close?” V tried to tease.

“You know exactly what I do to keep em close.” Jackie breathed, now his voice was properly low and close.

“Can you just fuck the shit out of me already?” V grabbed a handful of his crotch this time, ignoring his belt. “Cause I promise you, I’m gonna be way madder if you keep making me wait than I will be when I wake up and decide this was a bad idea.”

“When.” Jackie repeated in a snicker, kissing her neck.

“Yeah, when.” V tried to snarl, but she was already gasping and squirming. “Because I just got out of a relationship with a pillow princess and I want to wake up tomorrow feeling manhandled and sore.”

“Carajo, you got it.” Jackie straightened up.

With an effortless motion, he grabbed her tank top in both hands and tore it down the front. V’s heart skipped a beat. Then his hands were on her nipples, squeezing the skin tight around the metal bars running through them, turning the piercings slightly clockwise and then counter-clockwise. Goosebumps exploded down her stomach. In honestly, she’d been turned on enough since leaving the bar to almost reach over and mess with him on the ride home, but Jackie had probably had one or two more than he should have been driving on, and she’d enjoyed watching the focused clench of his jaw as he tried desperately not to glance over at her. But now, there was such an explosion not of eagerness, but of need, that it made her realize she’d only been humoring the idea until now. Turning it over in her mind as something that could happen, if she wanted. Not something that would happen, was happening.

Jackie’s hands were mauling her breasts hard enough to leave bright red fingerprints behind on her pale skin. Whatever flaws you could point out in the man, he understood assignments well. V tried her best to reach down and undo the button and zipper of her daisy dukes, finding the task exceptionally difficult under the circumstances. Between his legs moving between her own and the little shakes he was sending through her body - though she may also have been more drunk than she realized - it felt for all the world like the button had come pre-lubed and three sizes too big for the loop.

He seemed to recognize the problem a second later, trying the button himself but seeming to have just as much trouble with it. Perhaps she wasn’t that drunk.

“Where the hell did you get these?” Jackie asked after a second.

“No fucking clue.” V growled. “Ruin them, I don’t care.”

With a yank, he popped the button, then brought them down roughly around her knees. From there V could kick them off herself. Without waiting for her to, Jackie pressed his fingers roughly against her panties, rubbing her through them, producing audible sounds of her wetness. V’s teeth clacked together. The fabric was damp and sticky and not remotely pleasant, but the feeling of pressure, of warmth, and of live movement made it more than good enough. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had this royal of a case of blue balls, assuming the term applied. It felt like she hadn’t been touched in months, or at least, the way he was touching her made her realize she hadn’t really been touched in months. Tugging the crotch aside, Jackie traced his middle finger against her lips before sliding it in. Oversized, rough, perfect.

“Shit girl, are you always this tight?” Jackie breathed hot and damp in her ear.

“Fuck,” V gasped back into his ear. “Mostly girlfriends. In a row.”

“Glad to be the exception.” Jackie murmured.

“Yup,” V responded without thinking. “One of the good ones.”

He looked at her for a second, then snorted and rolled his eyes. V wanted very badly at that moment to bury her face in her pillow or try to make it better, but she just bit her tongue and tried to grind her crotch into his hand. He teased and then slipped a second finger inside, and the stretch made her gasp. It was a pleasantly raw, intense feeling. One she hadn’t been aware she was missing. At the same time, it made her shift and lengthen her breathing, trying to relax, trying to get through the most unpleasantly intense part of it and just leave the good intense part.

“You sure you want the whole shebang?” Jackie half-asked and half-teased. “Don’t think you’ve ever been this tight.”

“Shut the fuck up!” She gasped. “You have huge fingers!”

Jackie shrugged, giving another grin that pushed the line of acceptable smugness. He tilted his shoulder into the wall of her bed cubby to support his weight and dropped his other hand down to her neck. Without being told, without needing to be told. V felt her face turning cherry red as his fingers squeezed either side of her neck, only putting enough pressure on her actual windpipe to let her know he was there, but making her heartbeat throb rapidly in her ears. And, more importantly, in her cunt. He started to pump his fingers between her legs, moving them like he was scratching upward, pressing the oversized fingertips of his dumb oversized fingers up inside of her in exactly the right spot. She could hear all sorts of undignified, sloppy, wet sounds coming from between her legs. But when he started to grind his palm and the ball of his thumb into her clit, shifting the metal piercing underneath his overwhelmingly warm touch, all V could manage was an equally sloppy and embarrassing gurgle from the base of her throat.

“There we go, chica, I got you.” Jackie purred. “Let’s get that first one out of the way and see if your stomach is still as big as your eyes.”

V wanted to protest - she’d asked to be manhandled, not babied - but Jackie started to pump his fingers into and out of her cunt more enthusiastically. Unfortunately, he was really damn good at this, and had been even before he knew which of her buttons to press. She grabbed his wrist with both hands, clutching at it like she was trying to pull his grip from her throat but exerting no such ****. His massive, tan forearm largely blocking the view of what he was doing between her legs. His cock was straining against his pants, tantalizingly out of reach but leaving nothing to the imagination. Good god, that thing was going to hurt for the first few seconds. When she looked him in the eye, he gave a dopey, friendly, not especially sexy smile.

Then the wave of pleasure crashed, bringing a beautiful, peaking moment of nothingness punctuated by a chest-deep groan that seemed to come out of her ears and nose more than her mouth. V squeezed her eyes shut, but the pleasure was great enough to **** them open again, even if she couldn’t focus on anything. She could hear the wet churning between her legs as if it were happening a world away. The first few seconds were an explosion. Knocking away drunkenness, the pressure in her neck, the itchy, sticky, needy feeling of blue balls. Like pure plasma from her crotch down the bones of her body, coiling, twisting, rolling. A sense of sheer vertigo as she lay on the sheets like a rocking ship. Then it congealed, dropping and pooling in her groin, making her pump her hips to try to dislodge it. Heating again, becoming unbearably wonderful as it squeezed itself out through her sex, around Jackie’s fingers. Her head throbbing from both pressure and pleasure.

As it faded, Jackie let go of her neck and V found herself gasping for air - not from being choked, from holding her breath. It took her a minute to stop shaking and calm down, not helped by Jackie sliding his fingers from her pussy and swiping them against her clit like a credit card on the way to his mouth. She winced as she watched him pop his middle two digits against his tongue, closing her legs for the moment and riding out another tremor.

“Change your mind any?” He asked after a second.

“Fuck you.” V gave him a weak finger before letting her legs drop open again, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Even if I did, you gotta keep me up till I’m sober.”

“I do?” He looked at her teasingly.

“Yeah, so I don’t **** on my own puke or something.” She responded.

“Shit, chica, we gotta work on your pillow talk.” Jackie murmured as he unfastened his belt.

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