#eddythirsts

Barbossa’s hand grips your wrist before you can even think to pull away, his eyes flashing with that dangerous glint that always makes your pulse spike. “Thought ye were clever, sneakin’ up on me,” he growls, voice low and rough.

You try to quip, but his other hand lands on your hip, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body presses you to the rough wood of the ship, and suddenly clever words fail you. Instead, you gasp, a sound that only seems to amuse him. His hand slides into your loose shirt, hot and insistent, and your back arches instinctively.

“Ye’re mine, ye hear?” Barbossa says, voice sharp. His lips meet yours in a fierce, demanding kiss, teeth occasionally catching your bottom lip. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t hesitate, every thrust, every press, is fire against fire.

Your hands find his shoulders, gripping as he drives you against the ship’s railing. There’s no subtlety here, no careful teasing, just the hard press of him, the hunger in his every movement, the sheer need that makes your knees weak.

He growls low in his chest when you press closer, nails digging in just slightly, a warning and a claim all at once. “Aye…never had someone so—” His words break into a shudder as his mouth finds your neck, and you’re dizzy with heat, with how fully he wants you.

Every pull, every shove, every bite and nip is unrelenting. The ship rocks beneath you, but neither of you notice. You only know the heat of his hands, the force of his body, the way he sounds your name with a possessive growl that leaves you trembling.

Finally, he pauses, forehead against yours, chest heaving. You can feel the flush of heat between you, the way he still holds you as though he’s afraid letting go would make you vanish. Barbossa smirks, voice low and ragged, “Worth more than any gold I’ve plundered…ye are my treasure, and don’t ye forget it.”

You’d seen it before, with Cordelia in the greenhouse, with the other students at Miss Robichaux’s and you’d heard tales of even more. That fury, that power that Fiona held, it drove you mad, and yet, you’d never been on the receiving end of it, always the passive observer. You didn’t know what you had to do to get her attention, her wrath, and —most importantly— her hands on you.

You tried everything. You pulled stunts, aimed for trouble, and still her attention never turned your way. The other girls merely had to make an inane comment to get thrown against the wall with a flick of her finger. Cordelia could face her wrath for nothing more than a foul look. And still, you waited for it to be your turn. You were desperate for the moment that Fiona snapped at you. Maybe you wanted it too much.

She had to have noticed you watching, maybe she’d even heard the comments you’d made half under your breath any time she inflicted any sort of harshness on the other girls. Just knowing you wanted it was enough for her to withhold the same treatment from you. She was torturing you in your own right.

It wasn’t until one night, long after the others had gone to bed, that she decided to indulge you. You’d been in the hallway, halfway to your room, when the scent of her cigarettes hit you first.

“Tell me,” Fiona murmured from the shadows, “just how long do you plan on dangling yourself in front of me like bait? It’s pathetic, really. Beneath you.”

You froze. Slowly, she emerged from the dark, her heels the only sound filling the hall besides the hard thrumming of your pulse in your ears. “I see you,” she continued, circling you now, “staring when I lose my temper. You think I don’t notice, but I do. You love watching me break people, don’t you?”

Your throat went dry. “I—”

“Oh, don’t bother lying,” she interrupted, her hand coming up to trail a finger under your chin, tilting your face toward hers. “You want to know what it feels like when I wield my power against you.”

She let out an amused little laugh, a beautiful sound, you thought, even if it was being used to taunt you. Her eyes gleamed, and a wicked smile curved her lips. “Maybe it’s time you get what you’ve been asking for.”

With a flick of her wrist, you were suddenly lurched backwards until you hit the wall, the breath momentarily knocked from your lungs. She had you pinned there, under her control at last.

She stepped closer, her heels slow and deliberate on the hardwood. “Is this what you wanted? There have been many who begged me not to hurt them, and yet it’s the one thing you desire most.”

You nodded before you could stop yourself, trembling with fear, with expectation.

Her hand closed around your jaw, thumb pressing into your skin until it hurt just enough to make your stomach twist with want. “Careful,” she warned, her lips so close you could almost taste the wine on her breath. “I might not know when to stop.”

Then she smiled, sharp, triumphant, like she’d known your game all along and she was just dying to make you regret it.

“Good girl,” Fiona whispered, dragging her nails down your throat before leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, soft and possessive. “Let’s see just how much of my wrath you can really take.”

She pulled you forcefully down the rest of the hallway and into your room, locking the door with her magic. She wasn’t about to be disturbed. You wanted her, and now you had her. Fiona didn’t quite know what she was going to do with you, whether she wanted you to truly fear her, or want her more.

“Poor thing, you don’t even know what you’re asking for.” She pushed you back onto your bed, hand gripping your neck until you were lying beneath her. When she released you, her hand dipped past your waistband. When she touched you, you gasped, a thousand nerves alighting. “Why do you think I should let you have what you want?”

With her hand on you, your mind clouded over and you couldn’t formulate the words to answer her. “You can’t even answer me now,” she chided, a hint of condescension in her tone. “You will learn to speak when I tell you to.”

With that, a sharp slap fell across your face, momentarily startling you back to your thoughts. Oh, how your cheek stung. It shouldn’t feel so good, but the way Fiona was looking down at you made you shiver all the same.

“I—I worship you,” you finally choked out, hoping it was a good enough answer for her.

“As you should, you little witch bitch. I am your supreme after all.”

She’s really getting you worked up now. You’re trying to keep still beneath her, but you can’t control the moans that result from her touch and the words that she says to you. Yet, just as you feel yourself getting close, she pulls her hand away. You’re left clenching around nothing and pining for the friction that is no longer there.

“Open your mouth,” Fiona commands. You’re still shaking, panting, but even confused, you obey.

She tips your chin down toward your chest with one perfectly manicured finger, studying you as though deciding what you’re worth. The look she gives you is all indulgent cruelty and satisfaction. Then she traces your lower lip with her thumb, a mockingly gentle gesture, before spitting directly into your mouth.

“Now say thank you.”

Not Very Into It

Dorinda Medley: She’s never really tried it, but she can’t take herself seriously enough to really let that sort of stuff come out of her mouth. Not really a big fan of hearing it, either. She finds it can cross the line into crass and unsexy too fast.

“I made it nice, but I don’t mind it a little naughty.”

Jeana Keough: Jeana isn’t a very big fan of dirty talk. She thinks it often feels forced and gets too crude to feel sexy anymore. On a rare occasion, she likes to hear it, but you have to be careful not to go too far. It needs to be believable, not exaggerated.

“Is it getting hot in here, or is it just you?”

Kyle Richards: Kyle wants to give it a shot, but she can’t take it seriously. It all sounds too fake/porny for her. She doesn’t mind hearing it if it’s something you’re into, as it can definitely serve to make her flustered, but she’s bad at it herself and feels she’ll only embarrass herself if she tries.

"I don't think I'm gonna last long if you keep doing that."

Sutton Brown: It comes out awkward when she tries, and it feels very unsexy to her. But, as long as you don’t get too graphic, she can definitely get turned on by hearing it.

“Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

Mild Only

Adrienne Maloof: It’s a mood thing for her. She has to really be feeling it to break out the dirty talk. That being said, she loves to get under your skin with it, making you want her more than anything.

“There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

D’Andra Simmons: D’Andra could take it or leave it. She can go heavy on it if she’s in the right mood, but mostly she doesn’t go too crazy for it.

“Tell me how you want me, and you can have me any way you like.”

Eileen Davidson: Eileen typically finds it too vulgar to be sexy, but with the right words that don’t push it too far, it can get to her every now and again. She doesn’t dirty talk often, but when she does it always hits because of that voice.

“Say you want me and I’m yours.”

Heather Dubrow: Heather likes to think she’s not into dirty talk, but she does have a very strong soft domme quality to her, so she can’t definitely get behind it, just nothing too vulgar. Vulgarity loses the sexiness of it for her.

“You kneel for me, no one else.”

Jill Zarin: She dismisses dirty talk as tacky and will rarely indulge, but if it comes from you, telling her what you want to do to her, that’s another story. She really does love to hear that, but you have to be careful how you word it, or it can go from turned on to turned off real quick.

"You have my permission to do whatever you want with me."

Kim Richards: Kim is shy about dirty talk. She can do it, and she’s not too bad at it, but it’s not one of her favorite things. It doesn’t do too much for her either. She’d rather hear words of love than lust.

"Do I turn you on that much?"

Shannon Beador: Dirty talk can fluster her pretty easily, but she does kind of enjoy it sometimes as well. Nothing too explicit, or it will take her out of the moment.

“Stop looking at me like that, it’s making me wet.”

Vicki Gunvalson: Vicki typically keeps any dirty talk to direct orders or praise. She doesn’t like to get filthy, but she does love to say things that get you all worked up for her.

“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you, Princess?”

Not Afraid To Get Filthy

Bethenny Frankel: Everyone knows Bethenny has a sharp tongue, and it can definitely extend to the bedroom. She loves to spring it on you and catch you off guard. The more it flusters you, the dirtier she goes.

“I talk fast, but I go real slow when it counts.” — “You like it when I ride your face like I own it?”

Camille Grammer: Camille can get filthy if she wants, but it’s selective. Almost even like a defense mechanism, something she does when she thinks she’s losing you, or she’s jealous.

“Are you just gonna stare, sweetheart?” — “I can give it to you any way you like it.”

Carole Radziwill: Carole has a way with words, and it’s the same when it comes to dirty talk. You don’t expect it from her, but that’s what makes it all the more effective.

"You're not leaving this bed until I say so."

Denise Richards: Denise is shameless about flirting, and shameless about whipping out the dirty talk. She’ll do it just to get you riled up. And she’s good at it. Really good.

“Why don’t you make me regret wearing panties?”

Erika Jayne: Erika loves to be playful, and if you can keep up with her, then she won’t shy away from the dirty talk. She’ll have you almost drooling by the time she’s done.

"You're in no position to tease baby, remember that."

Gretchen Rossi: Gretchen loves to push the envelope with some dirty talk. She doesn’t shy away from anything, but does know when she’s gone too far, usually right after it comes out of her mouth.

“What are you gonna do about it, baby? Pin me up against the wall and fuck me senseless?”

LeeAnne Locken: She wouldn’t admit to it out loud perhaps, but LeeAnne can get down and dirty. She isn’t afraid of some pretty nasty dirty talk. It can even help get her aggression out in a more healthy way.

“Such a pathetic little slut for me, aren’t you?”

Lisa Rinna: Rinna is always doing something bold and entirely unapologetic. The fact that she likes dirty talk should be no real surprise.

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

Lisa Vanderpump: She loves to dish it out, get you going, only to leave you hanging most times. Catch her off guard with some of your own dirty talk and it can end up in a situation that escalates until you actually wind up in her bed.

“You make such sweet sounds for me, darling.”

LuAnn De Lesseps: Anything LuAnn says can sound like pure sex with that voice of hers. If she just plays it up a bit, her dirty talk can have you weak in the knees almost instantly.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Ramona Singer: Ramona loves some good dirty talk. She likes hearing it more than saying it herself. She’s a great flirt, but sometimes the dirty talk comes out wrong and derails the whole night.

“No one’s here. We can be as loud as we want.”

Sonja Morgan: Sonja is the ultimate master at dirty talk. Sometimes she’ll push it a bit too far, but for some weird reason it still works. And she loves hearing it back too.

There’s a rhythm to being around her, subtle but relentless, like you’re being pulled in and let go again. One moment, she’s distant, and the next she’s close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body brushing yours. You don’t know if it’s intention or instinct on her part, and she’s never given you any indication.

You follow her into the dimly lit apartment, the click of her heels echoing like a heartbeat. She stops, and the air between you thickens, heavy with anticipation. “You always come back,” she states. “No matter how far I push.”

Her hands find yours, interlacing fingers with precision. It’s not gentle. It’s claiming. Your pulse spikes. “Maybe I like it when you push,” you reply, and she tilts her head, amused, almost approving.

Valentina leans in, lips barely brushing yours, testing, teasing. It’s not a kiss, not yet, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten. The way she moves around you, pulling away just before you close the distance, makes your body react on instinct, desperate for the inevitability of her touch.

She lets you come closer, lets you trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, before drawing back and whispering, “Patience. No need to rush. You have me for the night, not the hour.”

You do, you realize, and you’re going to make the most of it. Every glance, every brush of her fingertips, pulls you nearer, and every smirk or step back sends you reeling, craving the next approach.

Finally, she closes the distance, lips capturing yours with a controlled hunger that makes you ache. Her hands slide under your shirt, over your ribs, claiming. Every motion is measured, deliberate, like she knows exactly how much she can give before needing to keep you on the edge again.

You gasp against her mouth, and she hums, a vibration low and intimate. “See,” she whispers. “I can always pull you back in. You can’t resist it, and neither can I.”

The night presses in thick and humid, the kind that makes everything feel close. Gemma’s house is quiet, just the low hum of an old fan and the sound of her heels on hardwood as she crosses the room. You’re perched on the edge of her bed, watching her move like she owns every inch of space between you.

“Haven’t seen you eat all day,” she asked. Her rings glint as she tilts your chin up, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You hungry, baby?”

“Sort of,” you replied, and the glint in your eye is all the invitation she needs. Her mouth is on yours, hot and demanding, tasting like cigarettes and whisky. Gemma kisses like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting hours for you to come home for this very reason. Her teeth catch your lip, and the sting only makes you pull her closer.

The perfume on her neck fills your head until you can’t think of anything but the sound she makes when you tug at her belt. You undo it with a sharp breath, and she’s smirking before you can even look.

“That’s it,” she says, voice rough with satisfaction. “There’s that appetite.”

You lower yourself to your knees, placing a kiss on her stomach and her hand slides into your hair. She braces herself on the edge of the bed as you go lower. You pause only long enough to take off her boots and peel off her jeans and panties.

Gemma’s fingers tighten just enough to guide you and you get to working at what you do best, serving her. When you finally look up, you see her parted lips, a sharp inhale catching in her throat. You stay there, close enough to feel the shiver that runs through her as you make her come.

Adrienne Maloof: She’d lean in just slightly when you talk. She’d drop little compliments in a matter-of-fact way, like “That color looks amazing on you, by the way” as if she’s not even thinking about it — but she is. Her flirt style is understated: steady eye contact, and the faintest smirk when you surprise her.

Bethenny Frankel: Pure verbal sparring. She’d tease you constantly, quick wit on full display, calling you out and daring you to match her. “Oh, so you think you’re funny? Cute.” You don’t know if she’s serious or kidding. She’d smirk over the rim of her drink, clearly enjoying that you’re trying to keep up. Her body language would be pretty animated, expressive hands, leaning back when she’s amused, then leaning in when she’s really interested.

Camille Grammer: Camille has a subtly sensual approach. Her voice would drop just a touch when she says your name, her smile slow and knowing. She’d use strategic touches like brushing lint off your shoulder, her fingers lingering for a second too long. Compliments would be intimate, almost conspiratorial: “You have the most captivating eyes…have people told you that?”

Carole Radziwill: She’d tilt her head while listening to you, biting the inside of her cheek before smiling like she knows something you don’t. Her words would be clever but never over the top, “I don’t usually find people this interesting at these things…guess tonight’s the exception.” Her gaze is cool but lingers just long enough to pull you in.

D’Andra Simmons: D’Andra is pretty direct. She’ll play coy for a hot minute, but if you don’t immediately pick up what she’s putting down, she won’t play around. “Hey, I like you. Let’s go out sometime.” Probably accompanied by a lingering touch to your upper arm.

Denise Richards: Denise’s style is warm, lowkey, and more than a little playful. She’d laugh easily at your jokes, give you that squint/smile combo that feels like she’s seriously into you. She’d lean on the bar next to you, brushing her arm against yours casually but deliberately. She’d wait to see if you made a move, but if not, she’d be more than happy to do so herself. “You’re adorable. Give me your phone, I’m going to give you my number. You better call me.”

Dorinda Medley: She’d reach for your arm when she’s telling a story, holding you there for emphasis. She’d call you “sweetheart” or “honey” in a way that feels both affectionate and just a bit suggestive. Lots of laughter, leaning in close to make sure you hear her over the noise, and a sly “Don’t tell anyone I said that” after a cheeky comment.

Eileen Davidson: Eileen is smooth and slightly mysterious. She’d let pauses hang in the air just a second longer than normal, making you fill them with nervous energy. She’d compliment your intelligence or perspective, followed by a small, amused smile. Her body language is composed but with sudden bursts of warmth when you really click.

Erika Jayne: Erika’s style of flirtation is direct, with a little bit of teasing. She’d give you an obvious once over, smirk, and say something like “You clean up nice.” She’d let her hand rest on your arm when passing by, nails tracing lightly. Her gaze is piercing, holding eye contact until you’re the one who has to look away. Every compliment feels like a dare.

Gretchen Rossi: Gretchen likes you to pursue her, but there are signs. She’ll twirl her hair, giggle a little more than usual, shower you in compliments, really take a keen interest. “You’re really cute. Do you come around here often?”

Heather Dubrow: Heather lowers her voice, leans in and tucks her hair behind her ear while making eye contact. Anything she says after that will most likely have you like putty in her hands. She knows what works for her, and it usually works without fail.

Jeana Keough: Jeana’s flirting is very subtle, mostly just listening and remembering little things you tell her. She’s kind of out of her element when she flirts, so it doesn’t always come across as flirtation. “You mentioned that last week. I just remembered. Is that weird?”

Jill Zarin: Jill can be a bit over the top and playful. She’d gush a little (“Oh my God, you’re adorable!”) but then back it up with genuine curiosity about you. Lots of leaning in and quick little touches to your hand or knee while talking. She’d make you feel like you’re the most interesting person in the room, laughing big at your jokes even if they’re not that funny.

Kim Richards: Sweet and almost shy at first, but with moments of unexpected boldness. She tends to touch you without thinking, brushing your hand when she laughs, leaning into your shoulder during a story. Her eyes have this searching quality, like she’s trying to memorize your face. Every so often, she’ll give you a surprisingly bold, lingering look that makes you wonder what she’s not saying.

Kyle Richards: Her eyes would meet yours for a split second longer than normal before she looks away with a little smirk, pretending she’s not blushing. She’d tease you lightly (“Oh, please…you probably say that to everyone”). She’s big on playful physical contact like nudging your arm, tugging your sleeve, or tapping your hand when she’s making a point.

LeeAnne Locken: If LeeAnne takes a real interest, then it’s flirting. She knows so many people that if she’s taking the time to sit down and ask you about yourself when she could be networking, or utilizing her time for things generally important to her, then you best give her your attention right back.

Lisa Rinna: Rinna is all out bold and physical with her flirtation. She’d be quick to give you a hug, hold it for a beat longer than necessary, and then pull back with a mischievous grin. Her compliments are direct (“God, you’re sexy”) and paired with playful little dances or exaggerated expressions. She’d keep touching your arm, your shoulder, your waist, her energy is pure flirt.

Lisa Vanderpump: LVP is all polished seduction. She’d maintain unbroken eye contact while taking a slow sip of her drink, her voice velvety. Compliments are sparing, but impactful: “Darling, you have such charm…and that’s rare these days.” Her touch would be light, fingertips brushing your forearm. She flirts like she’s in total control, and she is.

LuAnn De Lesseps: She’d take your hand to greet you and hold it just a moment longer than what’s merely polite. Her voice drops low and smooth, her sentences paced deliberately so you have to lean in to catch them. She’ll use your name often, paired with a light touch at your elbow or the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd. “You strike me as someone who always gets what they want.” And she says it like she’s daring you to prove her right.

Ramona Singer: With Ramona, you’re getting big, unfiltered energy. She’d grab your hand and pull you closer mid conversation, wide eyed and smiling. She’d compliment you directly (“You’re hot, I like that”) without overthinking it. Her body language is animated, always leaning in, touching your shoulder, brushing your hair out of your face while pretending it’s nothing.

Shannon Beador: Shannon is a notoriously bad flirt. She’ll literally just strike up a conversation and think it’s flirting. She might play with her hair a bit or fidget, but it’s often so subtle that it could easily be missed.

Sonja Morgan: Flirting is Sonja’s default, and she lays it on thick. She’d rest a hand on your thigh when she laughs, throw her head back dramatically, then give you that sly grin. Her compliments are playful and a little outrageous. “If I take you home, I’m not letting you leave.” She’s tactile, warm, and a little unpredictable, which makes it addictive.

Sutton Brown: Sutton is coy and charming. She’d smile softly, tilting her head, her Southern drawl stretching out your name. She’d give you compliments with a hint of bashfulness (“Well, aren’t you just as pretty as can be”) and then glance away, pretending she didn’t just say it. Her touches would be light, almost hesitant, but purposeful when they land.

Litchfield was a rough place, but Nicky had a way of making it feel less like a prison and more like... home. Or maybe it was just the way she touched you, like you were something precious, something worth more than cold metal bunks and shitty commissary coffee.

"You're too good for this place," she murmured, her lips ghosting over your jaw as her fingers trailed down your stomach, slipping beneath the elastic of your waistband. The rough pads of her fingers were a stark contrast to the tenderness in her eyes, the way she watched your every reaction like a prayer answered.

You gasped as she found her rhythm, your body arching into her, craving more, but Nicky took her time. She always did. For all her sharp wit and cocky smirks, when it came to you, she was patient. Gentle. Kind.

"Relax, babe. I got you," she whispered, pressing her forehead against yours. It was an intimacy that went beyond the physical, a kind of reverence that made you ache in the best way.