#FWAVwritingchallenge

[baronessvonglitter]

Masterpiece

Harry Castillo x f!reader | WC: 1.6K

Summary: Getting to know the wealthy man who's taken an interest in your art, you find out he has a dirty little secret.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected piv. Mentions of food and drinking alcohol. Exhibitionism. Harry is a gentleman with a kinky side. Could be implied he's bi. He's a little bit of a sleaze I'm so sorry. (I'm not sorry.) Reader is an artist and has female anatomy, but is otherwise not described. Reader is younger than Harry but the age is also left up to your imagination. (we find out later that Harry ain't picky.)

A/N: allow me to introduce my submission for @toomanystoriessolittletime fucking with a view smut writing challenge 🖤I have never written for a character before seeing them onscreen, so I may be way off about Harry's whole personality. I keep seeing romantic stories about him and while they're wonderful, I wanted to give him kind of a secret, darker side. While I love when he's written as a perfect gentleman looking for love, I just wanted to write him as a little bit of a sleaze. But he's a nice sleaze, I promise!

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

FULL MASTERLIST

The best view of New York City is from Harry Castillo's Upper East Side penthouse apartment.

Below, Central Park sprawls like a lush green ocean between the steel and stone of Manhattan. The city lights frame the darkness of the park. Slow-moving traffic dots the streets with white and red and amber lights. Above, the elegant apartment buildings stand guard in the night like gargoyles, silent witnesses to the inevitable movement of time.

While the panoramic view is spectacular it's hard to focus on as Harry's large hands squeeze into your bare ass, his tongue licking wide stripes across your slit as he eats you out from behind, exploring every inch as you give a strangled moan, fingernails scraping the glass as you hold onto it for purchase. Your eyes roll back as his hands grab your ass, lifting your cheeks to get better access, stiffening his tongue and fucking you with it.

"God.. yes!" you gasp, pressing your forehead to the cool glass, not caring about leaving prints behind. You're high up enough so that people below might not see you, but there's a chance they could, and they'd see your entirely naked body pressed to the glass, writhing in ecstasy.

He's murmuring behind you, praising your taste, unable to get quite enough of you. His fingers are inside you, coaxing your first orgasm of the night out of you as his tongue flicks steadily over your clit.

"You're drenching me, sweetheart," he purrs, soft lips still caressing your skin. He rises, still behind you, to cup your chin and kiss you, your arousal still coating his mustache and lips. His free hand on your hip, he lines himself up, the tip of him tickling your still-sensitive clit.

"You want it?" he asks, gently biting down on your lip. Your reply comes hastily, a breathy yes before he sinks in, his cock buried to the hilt within your warm wetness. he starts to move, slow at first, enjoying the way you're wrapped around his impressive length.

You'd met him at a charity auction just a week ago. He'd been in a bidding war with an old and famous socialite for a piece you'd made, an oil-on-canvas that was inspired by a rainy night in Midtown Manhattan. You hadn't imagined anyone with any real taste in art would want it, but after Harry kept his paddle up, eventually winning your work and insisting he take the artist out for dinner, you got to know he was quite the connoisseur of art. Over Maine sea scallops and filet mignon you discovered Harry had a love of art, and had his own artistic ambitions when he was a younger man. 

"You should always find time to do things you love," you'd told him, sipping the finest champagne you'd ever tasted.

"I don't mind leaving some dreams in the past," he'd said, a twinkle in the handsome, brown depths of his  eyes. "Besides, I get a little painting done now and then."

By the end of the night you were sure he'd ask you to come back to his place for a nightcap. You didn't think about bringing him to yours with your roommate probably crashed on the couch watching Netflix on your tv that was held up off the floor by milk crates.

He dropped you at your apartment, only pressing a gentlemanly kiss to your hand before you left the car. Thankfully you'd exchanged numbers and hoped he'd want to see you again. That call from him came just last night. 

He'd asked you up to discuss some other pieces he was considering purchasing from a wealthy collector in Dubai, desiring your personal opinion on them. Over a couple glasses of Cheval Blanc you perused the catalog, showing interest in Harry's personal style. He embraced the new and innovative while maintaining a love for the classic and traditional. He was a bit of a mystery to you, but less so as the night unfolded.

Somewhere along the way you sat a little closer, his hand lingered longer on your knee, moving up to your thigh, and when you opened your legs slightly he took the initiative to slide his hand under the hem of your dress.

The kiss, when it happened, was soft and sweet at first, even as his thick, ringed fingers plundered your pussy, your panties hanging off the ankle hanging over his shoulder. You never move that fast, but there was something about Harry's beguiling sense of sophistication and self-worth. He went after what he wanted and what he wanted was you..

"Have you ever been painted, sweetie?" he asked, undressing you as he led you to the window.

The glass mists over with each puff of your breath as Harry pumps into you, his length dragging tauntingly along your walls, every now and then pulling out just enough to tease your clit with the tip of his cock. You mewl in response, rubbing against him as your hand reaches back and holds on to his ass cheek, grinding against him. He hisses at your needy contact and turns your head to kiss you, his tongue pillaging your mouth as he lined himself up and thrust into you again, slowly.

His name leaves your lips in a moan, clenching around him as he sheathes himself deep inside you. "You're dripping down my balls, sweetheart," he mutters in your ear, his tongue flicking out to lick it. "And you're taking my cock so well.."

You can't get enough of the filthy squelching sound you make together with each drive forward of his hips, his dick relentless as your essence cascades around his cock. "So good.. so good," you're whimpering, knees buckling as his hand comes around to tease your clit, rubbing in soft circles.

"Soaking me," he grunts, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades as he bends you over, bringing your hips back, keeping his gaze on his cock disappearing inside you then reappearing, your sweet cream ringing the base of his length as you get him all messy. "Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you sob, unable to hold back as he grips your hips and slams into you. He watches your ass ripple with each thrust, his tongue peeking out between his plush lips. "Good girl.. let go for me, pretty thing."

He thrusts in deep, with intention, stilling when your pussy flutters then throbs around him, and he's tempted to flood your sweet cunt with his cum, but he closes his eyes and lets the moment of need bypass him. 

"Gonna paint you now, beautiful," he rumbles, pulling out and stroking himself while keeping you bent over. Cursing, breath catching in his throat, he paints your ass with his sticky white spend, enjoying the way you twitch with each splatter. "That's it," he growls, pumping until there's nothing left. "Stay there," he commands, finding his discarded pants and retrieving his phone. You don't know what to think as you hear the telltale sound of a photo being taken.

Harry runs a bath for you in his en suite bathroom, and you shed the plush white robe he'd given you after he'd cleaned you up earlier. Sinking into the perfect temperature water, your tense muscles start to relax. You're surrounded by luxury bath products, a Diptyque jasmine-scented candle burning demurely, and the softest L'Occitane bath oil softening your skin.

It's heaven, pure heaven.

There's a magazine rack next to the tub, and you indulge yourself in reading the latest Vanity Fair, reading an article about an actor who bears a striking resemblance to Harry.

Wearing the freshly laundered joggers and hoodie he'd set out for you on his bed, you wait in his room, your Uber ride already called. Part of you is disappointed, hoping he'd ask you to stay, but you assume he's a busy man and doesn't want to leave you alone in the morning. After he excuses himself to take a call in the next room, you meander around his finely decorated bedroom. Muted color palettes and designer brands create an aura of wealth and style. Whoever Harry hired as his decorator knew what they were doing.

There's a book sticking out from under his bed, the corner of a leather-bound album, you realize as you pick it up. You expect it's family pictures, and you smile to think you'll see a young Harry in diapers, on a school sports team, or graduating from university.

But that smile disappears.

Inside are photos of other people, nude, their asses on display just as yours was not long ago. Each one has a splattering of jizz. Checking to make sure Harry isn't coming back yet, you huddle yourself in the corner and continue to thumb through the pages. Each photo has a name, age, and date attached. There's all different types shown, all shapes of asses, all colors, even the ages are disparate. Harry's had multiple trysts and decorated his lovers in his cum. While you were in the bath he managed to add you to his secret erotic gallery.

"It's not nice to go through other people's things," Harry chastises from behind you, a musical tint to his voice. Hands on your shoulders he gently spins you around to face him. "I'm no artist in the means of Henri Matisse or Artemisia Gentileschi-"

"More like Pollock," you add.

Harry smiles. "I enjoyed painting you, just as I enjoyed painting these others." He casts a loving glance over the photos, and it dawns on you just how many there have been. 

"I trust you to keep my secret, darling. I think you will, considering how much I shelled out for your piece." His words hold no venom, only a discreet warning. "It's time for you to leave now. Your ride is here."

tagging those interested when this was just a wee baby wip: @inept-the-magnificent @milla-frenchy @bergamote-catsandbooks

@tateypots @ppascalrain @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape

@itwasntimethatdidit40

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fucking with a view

a writing challenge

I am excited for this one!

Welcome to fucking with a view, where you get to write a fic (or several) about a character fucking in front of a window.

That's it. That's the whole challenge.

The filthier the better.

Getting nasty in a hotelroom with floor to ceiling windows with a man you just met?

Your way to attractive boss makes you work overtime and rewards you by fucking you against the window of his office?

Getting freaky in a greenhouse?

Give me all of it!

There are some (but not many) rules:

only Pedro Pascal characters for this one (sorry not sorry)

since it's smut, please think of adding all the inappropriate warnings, adding the readmore thingy when it's over 300 words and so on (you know the drill)

tag me in all of your works and/or use the tag #FWAVwritingchallenge when posting

please post all your works until June 14th latest (which is my birthday, so this fic challenge is for purely selfish reasons)

you can write as many fics for as many characters as you want, there is no limit

I am already inpatiently waiting for all the stories you can come up with

tagging some people to spread the word:

Tagging some people to spread the word: @sizzlingcloudmentality // @guiltyasdave // @almostfoxglove // @the-mandawhor1an // @evolnoomym // @jennaispunk // @penvisions // @wheresarizona // @absurdthirst // @jolapeno // @burntheedges // @javierpena-inatacvest // @greenwitchfromthewoods

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Look, he could paint me anytime I don’t care.

Loved the twist at the end!

Masterpiece

Harry Castillo x f!reader | WC: 1.6K

Summary: Getting to know the wealthy man who's taken an interest in your art, you find out he has a dirty little secret.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Oral (f receiving). Fingering. Unprotected piv. Mentions of food and drinking alcohol. Exhibitionism. Harry is a gentleman with a kinky side. Could be implied he's bi. He's a little bit of a sleaze I'm so sorry. (I'm not sorry.) Reader is an artist and has female anatomy, but is otherwise not described. Reader is younger than Harry but the age is also left up to your imagination. (we find out later that Harry ain't picky.)

A/N: allow me to introduce my submission for @toomanystoriessolittletime fucking with a view smut writing challenge 🖤I have never written for a character before seeing them onscreen, so I may be way off about Harry's whole personality. I keep seeing romantic stories about him and while they're wonderful, I wanted to give him kind of a secret, darker side. While I love when he's written as a perfect gentleman looking for love, I just wanted to write him as a little bit of a sleaze. But he's a nice sleaze, I promise!

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

FULL MASTERLIST

The best view of New York City is from Harry Castillo's Upper East Side penthouse apartment.

Below, Central Park sprawls like a lush green ocean between the steel and stone of Manhattan. The city lights frame the darkness of the park. Slow-moving traffic dots the streets with white and red and amber lights. Above, the elegant apartment buildings stand guard in the night like gargoyles, silent witnesses to the inevitable movement of time.

While the panoramic view is spectacular it's hard to focus on as Harry's large hands squeeze into your bare ass, his tongue licking wide stripes across your slit as he eats you out from behind, exploring every inch as you give a strangled moan, fingernails scraping the glass as you hold onto it for purchase. Your eyes roll back as his hands grab your ass, lifting your cheeks to get better access, stiffening his tongue and fucking you with it.

"God.. yes!" you gasp, pressing your forehead to the cool glass, not caring about leaving prints behind. You're high up enough so that people below might not see you, but there's a chance they could, and they'd see your entirely naked body pressed to the glass, writhing in ecstasy.

He's murmuring behind you, praising your taste, unable to get quite enough of you. His fingers are inside you, coaxing your first orgasm of the night out of you as his tongue flicks steadily over your clit.

"You're drenching me, sweetheart," he purrs, soft lips still caressing your skin. He rises, still behind you, to cup your chin and kiss you, your arousal still coating his mustache and lips. His free hand on your hip, he lines himself up, the tip of him tickling your still-sensitive clit.

"You want it?" he asks, gently biting down on your lip. Your reply comes hastily, a breathy yes before he sinks in, his cock buried to the hilt within your warm wetness. he starts to move, slow at first, enjoying the way you're wrapped around his impressive length.

You'd met him at a charity auction just a week ago. He'd been in a bidding war with an old and famous socialite for a piece you'd made, an oil-on-canvas that was inspired by a rainy night in Midtown Manhattan. You hadn't imagined anyone with any real taste in art would want it, but after Harry kept his paddle up, eventually winning your work and insisting he take the artist out for dinner, you got to know he was quite the connoisseur of art. Over Maine sea scallops and filet mignon you discovered Harry had a love of art, and had his own artistic ambitions when he was a younger man. 

"You should always find time to do things you love," you'd told him, sipping the finest champagne you'd ever tasted.

"I don't mind leaving some dreams in the past," he'd said, a twinkle in the handsome, brown depths of his  eyes. "Besides, I get a little painting done now and then."

By the end of the night you were sure he'd ask you to come back to his place for a nightcap. You didn't think about bringing him to yours with your roommate probably crashed on the couch watching Netflix on your tv that was held up off the floor by milk crates.

He dropped you at your apartment, only pressing a gentlemanly kiss to your hand before you left the car. Thankfully you'd exchanged numbers and hoped he'd want to see you again. That call from him came just last night. 

He'd asked you up to discuss some other pieces he was considering purchasing from a wealthy collector in Dubai, desiring your personal opinion on them. Over a couple glasses of Cheval Blanc you perused the catalog, showing interest in Harry's personal style. He embraced the new and innovative while maintaining a love for the classic and traditional. He was a bit of a mystery to you, but less so as the night unfolded.

Somewhere along the way you sat a little closer, his hand lingered longer on your knee, moving up to your thigh, and when you opened your legs slightly he took the initiative to slide his hand under the hem of your dress.

The kiss, when it happened, was soft and sweet at first, even as his thick, ringed fingers plundered your pussy, your panties hanging off the ankle hanging over his shoulder. You never move that fast, but there was something about Harry's beguiling sense of sophistication and self-worth. He went after what he wanted and what he wanted was you..

"Have you ever been painted, sweetie?" he asked, undressing you as he led you to the window.

The glass mists over with each puff of your breath as Harry pumps into you, his length dragging tauntingly along your walls, every now and then pulling out just enough to tease your clit with the tip of his cock. You mewl in response, rubbing against him as your hand reaches back and holds on to his ass cheek, grinding against him. He hisses at your needy contact and turns your head to kiss you, his tongue pillaging your mouth as he lined himself up and thrust into you again, slowly.

His name leaves your lips in a moan, clenching around him as he sheathes himself deep inside you. "You're dripping down my balls, sweetheart," he mutters in your ear, his tongue flicking out to lick it. "And you're taking my cock so well.."

You can't get enough of the filthy squelching sound you make together with each drive forward of his hips, his dick relentless as your essence cascades around his cock. "So good.. so good," you're whimpering, knees buckling as his hand comes around to tease your clit, rubbing in soft circles.

"Soaking me," he grunts, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades as he bends you over, bringing your hips back, keeping his gaze on his cock disappearing inside you then reappearing, your sweet cream ringing the base of his length as you get him all messy. "Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you sob, unable to hold back as he grips your hips and slams into you. He watches your ass ripple with each thrust, his tongue peeking out between his plush lips. "Good girl.. let go for me, pretty thing."

He thrusts in deep, with intention, stilling when your pussy flutters then throbs around him, and he's tempted to flood your sweet cunt with his cum, but he closes his eyes and lets the moment of need bypass him. 

"Gonna paint you now, beautiful," he rumbles, pulling out and stroking himself while keeping you bent over. Cursing, breath catching in his throat, he paints your ass with his sticky white spend, enjoying the way you twitch with each splatter. "That's it," he growls, pumping until there's nothing left. "Stay there," he commands, finding his discarded pants and retrieving his phone. You don't know what to think as you hear the telltale sound of a photo being taken.

Harry runs a bath for you in his en suite bathroom, and you shed the plush white robe he'd given you after he'd cleaned you up earlier. Sinking into the perfect temperature water, your tense muscles start to relax. You're surrounded by luxury bath products, a Diptyque jasmine-scented candle burning demurely, and the softest L'Occitane bath oil softening your skin.

It's heaven, pure heaven.

There's a magazine rack next to the tub, and you indulge yourself in reading the latest Vanity Fair, reading an article about an actor who bears a striking resemblance to Harry.

Wearing the freshly laundered joggers and hoodie he'd set out for you on his bed, you wait in his room, your Uber ride already called. Part of you is disappointed, hoping he'd ask you to stay, but you assume he's a busy man and doesn't want to leave you alone in the morning. After he excuses himself to take a call in the next room, you meander around his finely decorated bedroom. Muted color palettes and designer brands create an aura of wealth and style. Whoever Harry hired as his decorator knew what they were doing.

There's a book sticking out from under his bed, the corner of a leather-bound album, you realize as you pick it up. You expect it's family pictures, and you smile to think you'll see a young Harry in diapers, on a school sports team, or graduating from university.

But that smile disappears.

Inside are photos of other people, nude, their asses on display just as yours was not long ago. Each one has a splattering of jizz. Checking to make sure Harry isn't coming back yet, you huddle yourself in the corner and continue to thumb through the pages. Each photo has a name, age, and date attached. There's all different types shown, all shapes of asses, all colors, even the ages are disparate. Harry's had multiple trysts and decorated his lovers in his cum. While you were in the bath he managed to add you to his secret erotic gallery.

"It's not nice to go through other people's things," Harry chastises from behind you, a musical tint to his voice. Hands on your shoulders he gently spins you around to face him. "I'm no artist in the means of Henri Matisse or Artemisia Gentileschi-"

"More like Pollock," you add.

Harry smiles. "I enjoyed painting you, just as I enjoyed painting these others." He casts a loving glance over the photos, and it dawns on you just how many there have been. 

"I trust you to keep my secret, darling. I think you will, considering how much I shelled out for your piece." His words hold no venom, only a discreet warning. "It's time for you to leave now. Your ride is here."

tagging those interested when this was just a wee baby wip: @inept-the-magnificent @milla-frenchy @bergamote-catsandbooks

@tateypots @ppascalrain @604to647 @aurorawritestoescape

@itwasntimethatdidit40