#smutty lines

[caramelcleopatraa]

MORE SMUTTY LINES IVE COLLECTED FROM READING TOO MUCH DAMN SMUT

“I’ma beat that pussy up so bad, you won’t walk straight tomorrow.”

‘’Nah.. you know I take care of what’s mine. Get back here, babygirl..cmon,’’

“fuck i love this pussy”

"That's it...you gon' take all this dick...you know it's yours."

"Mmhmm. Actin' all busy but you missed me playin' in this pussy. Didn't you?"

"I know, sweetheart. But it ain't 'bout what's fair... It's 'bout what I say. You know that..."

“You’re gonna give me this pussy anytime I fucking want it.” 

"Shit. That's it, sweetheart....and you better keep goin' 'til I nut in this pussy."

“Goddamn, baby. You ’bout to make Daddy cum if you keep that up…”

“I ain't going nowhere, baby. Take this dick like you took it last night."

“eyes on me as I fuck this pretty pussy.” 

"Now let Daddy pound in this pussy and make you cum again..." 

"Why you runnin' from me, baby? You know Daddy likes to get deep in his pussy..." 

the way I have a whole notes full of sentences like this 😭

[ someone asked me who these writers were, and I don't remember many, but I can tell you that @/msbigredmachine and @/harmshake lines are in both of these lists. ]

3600 words into ring announcer! oc x roman reigns and I think I hear bells and see spotlights 😮‍💨. anywayssss I will be on spring break starting Friday! so you can expect some work from me either on TikTok @/fentyromxn and on here as well~ 💋

[cupid-styles]

brat (sex columnist!harry x best friend!y/n)

in which y/n is best friends with harry, a sex columnist, who needs a little help answering a reader's question.

word count: 3k

content warnings: SMUT!!!! (mean dom/bratty sub dynamic, dirty talk, pussy spanking, paddling, sir kink, degradation, slight edging, fingering)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m really not.”

“No, but you are.”

“It would be for work and work only—”

“I don’t care.”

Harry sighs as he lifts a hand to run it through his curly hair. The noisy puff of air is filled with unsaid annoyance and Y/N tries her best not to roll her eyes at her best friend’s stubbornness, instead focusing on toying with the bracelet around her wrist. Instead of replying, he quickly runs his fingertips over the trackpad on his laptop so it glows back to life. 

“Can you at least hear me out?” he asks, his tone teetering on a polite plea, “You know writing about sex is my job. How am I supposed to help this person out when I can’t even offer a fair answer?”

Y/N crosses her arms and shrugs and Harry wishes he could reach across the couch and push them to her sides. 

“What makes you think I have any experience being a sub, anyway?” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued on the TV in front of them.

They're currently binging the newest season of The Bachelor, but Harry was more so using the dialogue and Y/N’s periodic gasps as background noise. For the past year or so, he’s held down a job at an online publication as a sex columnist. He loves it — people write in anonymously, asking him questions about everything from premature ejaculation to open relationships. Under the pen name H.E. Bell, he gets paid to write lengthy, thoughtful responses, helping his readers with approaching whatever sexual issue they’re facing. And this week, his editor really wants him to address a particular question about a dominant and submissive relationship. 

The thing is, though, is the letter comes from a sub. And Harry’s a dom. 

A mean one, at that.

So while Y/N’s diving into a pint of her favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (Phish Food, obviously), and Harry’s trying his best — and miserably failing — to place himself in the shoes of his submissive reader, he knows what he has to do.

“I hate to tell you, but you scream submissive,” Harry replies, pushing his laptop off of the couch and onto the coffee table. “Don’t even try to deny it. Just… just hear me out. Please. My deadline’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Y/N lets out an irritated huff as she grabs the TV remote and presses pause. Silently, she sits back against the couch, facing her best friend, and shoots him a displeased expression; a wordless allowance to speak. 

“I’m a dom and I’ve literally always been that way. You’re a sub, through-and-through. This person is asking about situations pertaining to experience as a submissive, and I can’t really provide them with the advice that they’re looking for since I’ve never been in that headspace.”

Y/N shrugs carelessly. She’s unbothered by his frank analysis of her subordinate behavior — it’s not exactly surprising that Harry, the sex columnist, is able to identify a sub, dom, or switch from 10 miles away. But that doesn’t mean she has to get dragged into his research, or whatever the hell he was trying to play it off as.

“Why don’t you just skip the question, then?” Y/N asks. “If you don’t have the right resources to offer an answer—”

“My editor thinks it’ll bring in a lot of page views,” he says, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His eyebrows draw together some, creating a small worried wrinkle between them. “Listen, I’ll fuck off if you’re totally uncomfortable with helping me, but you’re my best friend and I don’t know who else I could ask with this short of a timeframe.”

She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest. 

“Fine. Read me the question.”

A grin breaks out on Harry’s face as he grabs his laptop. He taps on the trackpad a few times as he brings the email up on the screen, eyes scanning over his bright inbox. 

“Okay, here’s what they said,” he clears his throat and Y/N really does roll her eyes this time, “Dear H.E.— I’ve been in a sexual relationship with my dominant for three months. Up until now, we’ve clicked really well. The chemistry is great and we always mesh really well both during scenes and aftercare. But lately, I’m worried I’ve been a little too bratty. For context, I’m a bratty sub with an attitude, but my dom knew that going into this. I fear that they’ll grow tired of my nonsense and insistent disobedience, but when I’m in my subspace or engaging in a scene with them, it’s hard for me to pull away from it. What should I do? Do you have any advice for what I can do as a sub to best help my dom?”

Y/N’s plucking at her bottom lip as Harry glances up from his computer. Blinking, she thinks for a moment before crafting a response.

“Well, it sounds like the sub needs to communicate their feelings to their dom. There seems to be a lot of insecurity.” she says. He hums, nodding his head as he types a few words on his keyboard. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” he murmurs, “They said it’s hard for them not to be in that bratty headspace, though.”

She shrugs, “I mean, if you’re a bratty sub, you’re a bratty sub. That’s just who you are.”

“Do you think there are any punishments that would work, then?”

“You’re the dom, shouldn’t you be able to answer that question?”

“I guess,” he replies, running his palm over the short bit of facial hair that’s grown on his chin in the past few days. “Spanking, edging, overstimulation, types of shibari, I guess…”

Y/N’s thighs squeeze involuntarily.

“...I just don’t know what works best.” he finishes his sentence, halting the tapping of his fingertips over the keyboard. “What do you think?”

She forces a swallow to coat her dry throat. “It depends.” she pushes out.

“Well, what works for you?”

She thinks for a moment. It’s been a minute since she’s been in a proper dominant/submissive dynamic — the last few times she’s had sex have all been one night stands and quick flings, all of which don’t allow enough time to learn about hard limits, punishments, and safe words. Her brain has to float back to a year ago, when she was sleeping with Reese, a soft dom who tried his best to tame her bratty nature but came back empty every time. He was good — the sex was good, but she wanted — no, needed — more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really had a dominant… achieve that, I guess,” she mumbles thoughtfully. “I mean, I know what I like, as far as punishments go. But it’s not really about what the submissive likes, is it?”

“No,” Harry agrees. He hums as he opens up a second tab and she watches as he types the words “punishments for submissives” into the search engine. She sniffles and attempts to disregard the way her core instantly clenches. 

He’s silent as he reads through a few lists, occasionally jotting down some notes into his Google doc. Y/N swallows noisily when he glances back up at her, this time prepared with an apparent list of proposed consequences. 

“Okay, can you just tell me which ones you think most submissives would be fine with?”

She nods.

“Withgoing underwear in public?”

“Mhm.”

“Pussy spanking?”

“Yeah.”

“Nipple wax play?”

“Depends on the sub’s pain tolerance, but um… yeah.”

“Paddling?”

“I actually haven’t done that one before.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise. 

“No?”

She shakes her head. “None of my doms have ever had one.”

“Doesn’t sound like they were proper doms, then.”

“They’ve all been on the softer side,” Y/N explains shyly. “But… yeah. I guess it’s always something I’ve wanted to try.”

“Is it?” 

She can tell by the way his eyes have darkened, that there’s something wicked stirring in that brain of his. She knows she can put a stop to this now if she wants — he’s her best friend and he wouldn’t care if she ended the conversation here and now. 

But she doesn’t.

Not for a second.

So instead she nods. And she’s completely unsurprised by the next sentence that falls from his lips.

“Do you want to try it now?”

By now, Y/N’s brain is all fuzzy and melty, so she doesn’t even think before she’s nodding her head eagerly. Harry chuckles and closes his laptop, shuffling onto his knees to lean forward and pluck at her bottom lip. A smirk curves at his mouth as she leans into his touch.

“Getting quite desperate on me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cradling her cheek into his palm. “Get naked for me then and I’ll go get the paddle. No touching while I’m gone.”

Her stomach flips at the domineering tone in his voice. All too quickly, they’ve fallen into their most intimate roles, and Harry’s carrying himself to his bedroom as Y/N continues sitting there, all gooey-eyed and foggy. And maybe he should have expected it when he returns back to the living room a few moments later to see her sprawled out across the length of the couch, her bralette and underwear still on with her fingers tucked beneath the waistband of the fabric.

“Kitten,” Harry all but growls, making Y/N shiver at the pet name, “Are you already disobeying me?”

She hums as she watches him through half-lidded eyes, soft fingertips petting at her pearled clit. His eyes glimpse down at the tented material and he instantly sets the dark red paddle down on the carpeted floor, kneeling between her legs.

“What’s your color?” he breathes, locking a hand around her ankle. Her pussy quivers just from the simple grasp.

“Green,” she answers, “I’ll tell you if anything changes. Safe word is licorice.”

Harry nods, allowing his large hands to float up her legs. They reach the gusset of her sodden underwear and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, snapping the fabric against her swollen pussy.

“Take your hand out of your panties now and I won’t smack your pussy until she’s raw.”

Y/N doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks her circling fingers only quicken.

“I’ll give you one last warning,” he grits out, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, “I’m not a nice dominant. You won’t be able to walk if you keep going against me.”

But of course, her hand stays glued to the bundle of nerves. Instead, she breathes out a sultry response: “Think I could cum like this, having you watch me.”

In a moment, her cotton underwear is being ripped from her body and thrown aside. He’s swift in his movements as he collects her wrists in his palm, squeezing them harshly and throwing them up, high above her body. She gasps, noisy and wet.

“I don’t fuck around with brats like you for a reason.” 

The first spank he issues to her puffy pussy is quick and fleeting, hardly offering a lick of pain. He’s eager to find where her pain threshold lies; if she’s all talk or if she can take the full force of his large palm. By the time he lands the sixth one, her skin now reddening beneath his smacks, he thinks he’s found it and he admits, he’s relatively impressed. 

“Aw, did that one hurt?” Harry mocks, watching as her face twists in an expression of discomfort. “That’s because punishments are meant to be mean. You’re not supposed to enjoy them, little brat. You’ve had it too easy, hm?”

“H-haven’t,” she stutters out, wincing as he delivers a seventh, “I’m good, sir, I swear—”

“Oh, bull-fuckin’-shit,” he retorts. “You’re a silly little brat is what you are.”

“‘m not—”

Smack—

“You are.”

She whines until he reaches the tenth one. She’s a wiggly mess of sniffles and whimpers and he shushes her, brushing a thumb over her clit. She gasps lowly and he laughs.

“On your belly.”

This time, Y/N doesn’t defy him and Harry is admittedly surprised. She buries her face in the throw pillow and he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. Before picking the paddle up off the floor, his blunt fingertips scratch at her scalp, gentle and kind as they trail down to the nape of her neck. 

“What’s your color, kitten?” he asks softly, rubbing a docile palm over her bare ass.

“Green, sir.”

“Do you still want to try the paddle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll start with five and then see where you’re at. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

“Red or licorice, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Since it’s her first time, he decides to ease her into it. He uses only a smidgen of his strength to smack the paddle against the thick of her cheek, watching as the wood ricochets. Her skin jiggles in response and he swallows, noting the way her nails already dig into the couch.

The second and third are just as light but he adds a bit more pressure to the fourth and fifth. When he’s finished, he rubs over the flush skin, slow and intentional.

“How was that?” he asks. 

“Good,” she replies, her voice slightly muffled from the pillow, “I can take more.”

A hand quickly finds its way to the back of her neck and her eyes instantly widen. He shifts her head, smushing her cheek into the soft fabric so her voice is no longer dulled. 

“Need to hear you loud and clear,” Harry says. “And now you’ll count for me.”

When the oak paddle makes contact with her ass for the sixth time, she grits her teeth but still calls out the number. She follows suit for the next five and, while it’s painful and harsh in the most uncomfortable of ways, she’d be lying if she said her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. She’s burning for him, feeling her arousal leak down between the apex of her thighs with every last spank. 

“Good job, kitten,” Harry announces, dropping the paddle at the end of the set. “You did good, hm? Did the bratty girl learn her lesson?”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in a pout when his soft palms begin to soothe her aching bum. He instantly takes notice, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Can’t give you anymore tonight, kitten. It was only your first time.”

Instead of replying, she simply shakes her head.

“Use your words. I’m not a mindreader, brat.”

Swallowing, she lifts her head up slightly, only enough to give her a peek of Harry’s concerned expression. 

“W-wanna cum,” she mumbles, blinking at him, “Will you make me cum, sir?”

And instead of immediately getting what she wants, Harry does the unthinkable.

He rolls his eyes.

“You act like a slutty brat all night, begging to get paddled, and now you want me to make you cum?” 

She nods, ashamed and embarrassed.

“What the fuck makes you think you deserve that?”

“I-I took my spankings and paddlings without complaining. And I didn’t disobey you a-after that.”

“But you did defy me to begin with, didn’t you?” he pushes, weaving his hand into the hair at the back of her head. His fist tightens and he lifts her head so her neck cranes back. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now you want to cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But not only do you want to cum— you want me to make you cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine then,” he decides, sitting down and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Come here. Straddle me.”

She forces herself onto her knees and ignores the way her ass and pussy both sting from her punishments. Right now, all she can focus on is her buzzing clit and its need for attention. 

She does as she’s told and splits her thighs to fit his own legs between them. Almost instantly, he cups a hand beneath her mouth and glares at her expectantly. 

“Spit, brat. Are you dumb?”

She shakes her head, allowing saliva to pool behind her lips before spitting it into his palm. With his eyes staring into hers, he lowers his spit-slick hand down to her mound and pushes a finger inside of her. Immediately, she clenches around it, her eyes threatening to flutter shut.

“Keep them open,” he instructs, “Jesus, your cunt is already milking me.”

She swallows and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the man sitting before her. He’s merciless in his ministrations, especially when he nestles a second, then a third finger and curls them up to her most sensitive spot. Her hands form tight fists as she grinds against his hand, moaning loudly when his thumb reaches her clit. 

“What a desperate little pussy,” he murmurs, speeding up the tight circles over the swollen bundle of nerves, “You like getting stretched out, don’t you? Say it.”

“I-I love when you stretch me out, sir.”

“Of course you do,” he smirks viciously, “Is your cunt gonna cum like this?”

“Y-yes, sir—”

“Ask for permission first, kitty.”

“Please sir, can I cum? P-please?”

She’s whimpery and mewling as she bounces helplessly on his fingers, the ribbon in her lower stomach threatening to unravel at any given moment. He hums, stilling the digits inside of her.

“Hold it.”

“Sir—”

“Hold it, brat.”

Her pussy clenches around him but she does. She restrains herself until he finally allows the ribbon to come undone, a slew of whines and curses sounding from her plush lips as she does.

It feels like it goes on forever but when the pleasure finally ceases, she collapses into his chest. Harry gently pulls his fingers from her center and wraps an arm around her waist, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. 

He lets her stay like that for a bit and, maybe selfishly, he enjoys having her limp, exhausted body so close to his. 

“Gotta clean you up and rub some salve on your bum,” he finally manages out, ducking down to whisper the words in her ear. 

Tiredly, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He swallows. 

He doesn’t think she’s in her subspace, but he knows she’s sleepy and fuzzy from the mix of pain and pleasure he just instilled on her body.

And so for that, he’ll give her five more minutes.

Six, if she’s lucky.

[ghost-proofbaby]

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 

Plainly put, it had been a while. 

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 

Personal demons including Cazador. 

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?” 

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 

If he has to beg, he will. 

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 

It was a novel moment. 

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 

Something snaps. 

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 

It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has. 

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.” 

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

[brain-rot-central]

I don't wanna go to work. I just want to write vampire smut, cook good food, and bake bread.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 3: Needing to be quiet.

Not explicit but minors dni with this one.

Now in all fairness Steve couldn't be held accountable for his actions. I mean what kind of reaction was he supposed to have to his extremely hot boyfriend dressed as sexy Santa performing songs he wrote ABOUT HIM! Steve had simply had no choice but to immediately take him backstage and lock the door, the other boys would surely forgive him given the circumstances.

Eddie was clearly on the same page as him because as soon as the lock clicked he'd pushed Steve right up against the door. The tiny room was warm, and Steve's warm skin plus the outfit was making it deliciously warm compared to the cold snowy weather they'd been having.

"Please, Eds." Steve choked out.

"Having you been a good boy this year, Stevie?"

That should not have turned Steve on as much as it did, if Robin was here she'd probably be wanting to psychoanalysis it, but she wasn't here and anything Eddie wanted to say was working.

"So good, Santa," Steve smirked out a reply teasingly.

"Fuck, that shouldn't be hot."

Just as Eddie had started to unbuckle Steve's belt to get to the main event, they heard talking outside.

"You guys were soooooo good," a clearly drunk girl said.

"Thanks, I'm glad you came," a voice replied shyly.

Steve and Eddie looked at each other wildly, oh no, the girl Grant had been pining over for weeks had actually come to the show, and liked it!

Steve was about to just give up and open the door to try and wingman the boy when Eddie stopped him.

"Think you can be quiet, sweetheart?"

Steve wasn't about to back down from a challenge, "Will it get me onto the nice list?"

"I'll make sure to check it twice," Eddie said sliding his hand under Steve's waistband.

Thankfully by the time Grant wanted to show the girl the green room, Steve and Eddie were looking very innocent and casual, not that Grant believed them for a second.

Ao3

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

For the quotes thingy, 94 for Merlin and Arthur

Sorry for the delay anon. Here's some modern-era workplace au merthur for ya. (There are sexual references but no actual smut in this, sorry if you wanted some haha)

“I bet I can make you scream my name.”

The worst thing about being in a secret relationship with Arthur Pendragon was that he could be a right bloody tease. 

All Merlin had done was suggest they keep their relationship a secret. They had just gotten together after all, and they weren’t fourteen anymore. They didn’t have to immediately run and tell their friends every single thing about their dating life the second it happened, did they?

Sure, their relationship was a culmination of months of frustrated pining that Merlin thought was one-sided until Arthur dropped him to his flat post the office party and abruptly (and clumsily) confessed his feelings, which resulted in a kiss that made Merlin so weak-kneed he was positive he’d never been kissed like that before. 

But the next morning, when he saw Arthur rousing in his bed, the sunlight alighting on him like he was a Classical painting of a half-naked Adonis, Merlin’s senses returned to him.

The words had come out in a rush, before he could stop them. “We shouldn’t tell anyone. About us.” 

It took Arthur a moment to register the words, but as soon as he did, he looked affronted by the mere suggestion. “What? Why?” 

“Just… you know. We work together. People will think I’m… sucking up to the boss.” 

Arthur gave him a look that made it clear he knew that was bullshit. Technically, yes, Arthur was one of the bosses, but Merlin was in another department and didn’t report to Arthur at all, so they weren’t actually breaking any rules by getting involved. And Merlin in particular was known office-wide for not giving a single shit what his bosses thought anyway. A fact that made him far from Uther Pendragon’s favourite employee. 

Arthur was watching him, brows raised slightly in suspicious contemplation. “What’s the real reason?”  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, flicking on the electric kettle and letting the sound of bubbling water fill the small room. 

Arthur wore the grumpy expression he wore during too-early meetings with particularly aggravating clients.

“Fine,” he said, eventually. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Merlin smiled, relieved. “Thanks. I just think it’s better t-”

“But we’re not having sex.” 

Merlin let out a scoff. “What?” 

“Either you tell me the truth about why you want to hide this, or we’re not having sex.” 

Merlin crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Your threats aren’t going to work on me, Arthur.” 

Arthur gave him that lopsided grin of his that made the back of Merlin’s neck burn. “We’ll see.” 

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

It started off small. A brush of their hands by the water cooler, or Arthur bumping his knee against Merlin’s when they were seated next to each other in the conference room. It was sweet, and hardly distracting. But then, Arthur started wearing that cologne that Merlin liked a bit too much, and leaning all the way over him when taking a look at the agreements, instead of just taking the files back to his office, like he used to. With the heat of Arthur’s body behind him and the smell of his—utterly intoxicating cologne— all around him, Merlin had to remind himself not to let his conviction waver. The prat couldn’t always have his way. 

Then, Arthur began joining Merlin and Gwaine in the squash court before work, clad in shorts that showed off his stupidly well defined calves, which—until then—Merlin hadn’t ever thought of as a particularly sexy part of a man’s body. But seeing Arthur run around in a sweat-damp t-shirt, his golden hair sticking to his forehead as he whooped loudly about scoring a point, seemed to awaken a part of him that he did not want to acknowledge. 

He didn’t even want to think about the locker room after. Arthur really had an aggravatingly nice ass. 

The cute knee bumps in the conference room turned into Arthur’s hand on his knee, then his thigh, rising steadily upwards until Merlin choked on his water, and started coughing so hard Uther Pendragon asked him if he was unwell. 

But Merlin was stubborn. Arthur was being infuriating on purpose, and Merlin was not going to acknowledge that he was tempted. Was he expected to just give in to the prat’s every whims? No. He wasn’t going to cave. Especially not when Arthur came into his department wearing a light blue shirt that was a little bit too tight and which brought out the deep, fervent blue of his eyes, asking to use their photocopier. 

“Of course,” Gretchen, Merlin’s department head said. 

“I think you have a slightly different model down here. I’m not sure how to use it. Maybe Merlin could help me?” 

Gretchen looked expectantly at Merlin, who breathed in sharply through his nose. He couldn’t very well say no in front of his department head. He ignored the smirk Will gave him as he stormed past Arthur and into the photocopy room. 

The room was cramped, made even smaller by the four massive photocopiers they had crammed in there. He refused to look up when he heard Arthur come in, and when he heard the telltale click of the lock. 

Why did they even have a lock in here? 

“What do you need to photocopy?” Merlin asked, he kept his back to Arthur, his tone a lot ruder than he had intended. His skin already felt like it was buzzing with static. Damn Arthur Pendragon and his bleeding ultimatums. 

Arthur reached past Merlin, his hand grazing Merlin’s side as he placed the document on the bed of the photocopier. Even though the rough fabric of his shirt, Merlin’s skin seared with heat at the touch. 

“Need 30 copies of that,” Arthur said, his breath warm on Merlin’s neck. 

Merlin slammed down the lid of the machine, ignoring the goosebumps that ran up his arm, and turned to face Arthur, realising belatedly that he was caught between Arthur and the massive copy machine. Maybe he hadn’t quite thought this through. Arthur smiled, crookedly, putting one arm up on the machine to trap Merlin in place.

“Is that all?” Merlin asked, forcefully. 

“I think you should stay here. In case something goes wrong with the machine.” Arthur was pressing up against him now, his hips right up against Merlin’s own. Merlin felt the vibrations of the giant machine run through his spine. 

He swallowed hard. “I think I should go back to work.” 

“I’m your boss, Merlin. You have to listen to me.” 

“No you’re not, and no I don’t.” Merlin said, though his thoughts were buzzing, melding into the whir of the copier.

He could feel Arthur’s breath on his lips now, hot and sweet. “These machines are so loud, I’ll wager we could be as loud as we want in here.” 

“I… have no plans of being loud in here.” 

“No?” Arthur asked, eyes boring into Merlin’s. “If you give me the chance, I bet I can make you scream my name.” 

Merlin’s whole body was burning hot and felt stretched too-tight, like a rubber band about to snap. He could barely muster up his next words, which came out more like a croak. “I’m good.” 

Arthur groaned loudly, pushing away from him. Merlin instantly missed the heat of his body. “God, Merlin, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met. You think I can’t tell how pent up you are? Why are you so insistent on keeping this a secret? Do you not want to be in a relationship with me?” 

Merlin blinked, the fog in his brain clearing away, just a little. “What? Of course I do.” 

“Then why the hell are you so insistent on keeping this a secret?” 

Arthur was watching him, his expression was raw, his eyes wide. There he was, his emotion laid bare, and Merlin understood, suddenly, what it all meant. He’d thought it was harmless, asking Arthur to keep them a secret. But all this time, Arthur thought he didn’t care. 

“Do you not want to be exclusive? Is this going too fast?” Arthur asked. 

“It’s not like that,” Merlin said, putting as much earnestness into his voice as he could. “It’s…,” he ran his fingers through his hair, making one side stick up, and sighed. “It’s Gwaine and Will. And Morgana.” 

“Huh? Do you mean… you’re… also seeing Gwaine, Will and my sister?” 

“What? No! Yeesh. I don’t think I have that much game. No! It’s… they…,” Merlin sighed loudly, dropping his arms to his side. “They used to say I had a crush on you.” 

Arthur stared back, uncomprehending. “Huh?” 

“Well you used to be really bloody annoying when I first started working here! And I kept saying that I hated you, and they kept saying I had a crush, and I didn’t… not then… but then I did, but by then I didn’t want to admit it… and you were still a giant clotpole, by the way… so I kept saying that I didn’t like you and…” Merlin gestured wildly towards the door. “If they find out we’re together they’re never going to let me hear the end of it.” 

Arthur was staring at him now like he’d grown a set of donkey ears and was braying. 

“That’s what all this is about?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “This is about your pride!?” 

“It’s about my reputation,” Merlin insisted. 

“But you are going to tell them eventually, aren’t you?”

“Of course, dollophead. Just… they’re going to be so annoying about it. I just want to put that off for as long as I can. Alright?”  

“You really are infuriatingly stubborn,” Arthur huffed. He tugged Merlin by the tie, yanking him closer and kissing him hard on the mouth. Merlin’s skin burned. He was practically dizzzy when they pulled apart, his fingers still threaded through Arthur’s hair. 

“So,” he gasped, trying to regain his breath, “are you done tormenting me now? You only said I had to tell you why.” 

Arthur straightened out Merlin’s tie that had gone askew. “See you at my place after work then. I have a bet I have to make good on.” 

Merlin grinned, his heart still hammering in his chest. “Don’t be so sure you’re gonna win.” 

 Arthur smirked. “This time, I’m pretty confident I will.” 

[hatchetverse]

Hey….spies are forever fic writers. I love you to death, ok. I sing ur praises to the sky bc i love the work you do.

But some of you need an editor and I’m volunteering. dm me and i’ll send you my email or you can send me a gdocs link.

[island-in-the-shadows]

I am doing far too much research into how penises behave during sleep...but it's all for a bizarre and smutty Cattonquick fic moment so it's bound to be worth it.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

I will block you if you are minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Okay but, imagine dressing up in a Playboy bunny-esque costume as a surprise for Jeonghan. You cannot convince me that Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't get just a little bit harder seeing you all dressed up for him, regardless of what you're wearing. So, you think the bunny costume would be equal parts enticing, cute and funny given him being considered the bunny in Seventeen. Jeonghan can't seem to find the humour in it when he finally sees you in it though. He's completely gobsmacked and aroused seeing the black ears on your head, the flimsy collar around your neck, the bodysuit that leaves little to imagination with how it struggles to support your tits and how it clings to your hips and, the black thigh high socks that indent your thighs and hug your legs invitingly. Frankly, he's surprised he's still conscious with all the blood rushing to his cock so suddenly. Seeing as how your smart mouth boyfriend is actually struggling for once, you try not to be too smug about it as you slowly make your way over to him, noting how he struggles to move his gaze above your neckline. "Cat got your tongue?" You ask teasingly, gingerly wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body into his immobile one. He finally seems to come back to himself and, returns your affection by wrapping his arms around you, his hands resting on your ass. His leans down to kiss along your neck, up to your ear, "Hopefully, it will later," he mutters in a tone laced with wicked promise and, you can't help but shudder in his grasp. You can feel him smirk against your ear before pulling back and, looking at you with a deceptively lazy, heavy lidded gaze. The unadulterated want in his eyes makes you subconsciously rub your thighs together and, that smug smirk returns to his face. He leans in to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to your lips, while he teasingly presses his hips into you, letting you feel how hard he is for you already. The whines you let out against his mouth on serve to stroke his ego more. You really should've known better than to think you could get one over on Jeonghan.

[novelconcepts]

Y'know what's fun? Finishing the story you set out to write.

Y'know what's even MORE fun? Starting yet another story, stacking 'em all up until you have upwards of eight WIPs in rotation, none of them ending, just constantly building higher like a beautiful tower of fanfiction babel...forever and ever, amen.

[masked-alien-lesbian]

[five-and-dimes]

ಠ_ಠ ...

[god-of-this-new-blog]

What if you wanted to write a fic and everyone wanted you to write the fic and the fic itself wants to be written, but then you could not write it. Wouldn’t that be fucked up?

[cinemastyles-blog]

Loved You First

Summary: This was a request by: roryknoelle on Wattpad - "Could you do a friends to lovers smut with y/n and Harry, where Harry keeps seeing her date someone else, gets jealous and finally confesses. Also could you make it as dirty as possible lmao"

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, semi forced actions, unprotected sex, oral(both), fingering, semi masterbation, alcohol use, F I L T H

Master

Fine Line Harry

"So." Harry says, "You have a date tonight?"

I nod, "Yeah." I look over at him, "Is that okay with you?"

He laughs, "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

I shrug, "I don't know. It seemed like there was more to it." He shakes his head and goes back to watching tv, "I just wasn't sure if we were hanging out tonight or not."

"Oh god, did we have plans to? Did I totally double book myself?" I ask in a panic. He smile and shakes his head, "No, no. I was just asking."

I let out a sigh, "Oh okay. Good. We can hang out after?"

He raises his eyebrows, "What if he wants to come back here after? What are you going to tell him about the very handsome man camping out on your couch?"

He smirks and I laugh, "Okay first off. That was very egotistical, and second off, I wouldn't bring a guy back to my place. I don't want them knowing where I live until I know them better."

I look up from washing the dishes and he's looking at the tv, "Did you hear anything I said?"

He looks over at me, "What? Sorry. You lost me after you called me egotistical." He smirks and looks back at the tv.

I roll my eyes and smile. My eyes linger on Harry until my phone dings. He looks over and I quickly look away from him. I wipe my hands on my pants and pick up my phone,

Shawn: Would you like to meet at 6 for dinner instead of 8?

"He wants to meet at six instead of eight? Is that weird?" I bite my fingernail and look at Harry.

He shrugs, "Maybe he turns into a werewolf at nine." He move his fingers up and down, "Oooooo."

I laugh, "Stop it."

"How many dates have you been on with this guy?" Harry walks up and leans on the counter.

"This will be three."

"Three? Hmm." He shakes his head.

"What?"

He shakes his head and holds his hands out.

"Harry. What?" I walk over and set my phone down on the counter, "Talk to me."

"I think.. I'm going to go to the bar tonight." He taps the counter, "Feel free to join me?"

"You know.. hold on." I tap my screen and smile as I do.

"What are you doing? Y/N. What are you-" he snatches my phone right after I hit send.

"Does your sister want to come out for drinks with us? I have a friend who is single and we can do a double date if you want." He drops the phone and looks at me with his mouth open, "Why? What. I don't-" he shakes his head.

"Come on, Harry. We can still hang out and you can maybe meet someone. His sister is very pretty and he did mention that all she ever finds is assholes, so I kind of talked you up a little bit so please. Don't be an asshole."

He sighs, "Y/N.. I don't.. I meant alone. With-"

"I know. But going to the bar sounds a lot more fun than some boring dinner." I look down at my phone.

"So he's boring?" Harry crosses his arms, "Hmm."

I shake my head, "No, no. I just mea-"

"No no." He cuts me off, "I know. You'd rather have me there incase things go south and you need a little pick me up."

I tilt my head, "That was one time Harry." I smirk slightly, "But it was a very good time. I will say that."

"My ego thanks you." He laughs, "I'm going to head home and get ready, I guess I'll go to the bar with you and your thing. I'll be back later."

"The thing's sister, Harry. You have a date, too!" I yell as he shuts my door.

——

There's a knock on my door and I walk to it, "Coming."

I open the door and put the back of my earring on, "Hey." I say with a smile. Harry is dressed in a pair of white pants and a black half unbuttoned shirt. I close the door and turn around, eyeing him up and down.

Harry looks me up and down and walks in, "Hello to you, too." I smile and pull my dress down, "Too much?"

He shakes his head and gives me a quick, "No."

"You okay?"

He mumbles something, but I can hear what he says.

"What?"

"I said I'm great. I just need a drink." He smiles and motions to the door, "Are we ready to go meet thing one and thing two?"

I laugh slightly, "Yeah yeah. I have to grab my purse and then we can go."

——

The car ride to the bar was very quiet, which isn't normal for Harry, but I didn't push because if it was really bothering him he'd talk to me .. eventually.

"Ready?" I ask giving him a smile. He smiles slightly and reaches over to fix my hair, "You look beautiful. If he doesn't see it, he's a fucking idiot."

He gets out of the car and I get out after him, "Thank you, Harry." I nudge his arm as he opens the door for me. I walk in and stand there, looking through the people for Shawn and his sister.

He raises his hand and I wave back, "They're over there. Come on!" I yell over the music to Harry and grab his wrist, pulling him along behind me.

"Hey, you look beautiful." Shawn says pulling me in for a hug. He glances over at Harry and his face kind of falls. Harry smirks and holds his hand out, "Hi, I'm Harry."

Shawn looks down at me and slowly stretches his arm out, "Shawn." He looks back at me and smiles, "Oh." His voice is nervous, "My sister is.." his hand falls down with a slap on his leg, "Already dancing with another guy."

I frown, "Did you tell her about Harry?"

He nods, "Yeah. Yeah I-"

"Oh my god, you must be y/n. Shawn talks about you all the time." She leans in and hugs me.

She's clearly tipsy already.

"Who's your friend?" She asks biting her lip while looking at Harry.

"That's Harry, Zoe." Shawn says quickly, "Harry. Zoe."

She walks over and lays a hand on Harry's arm.

I straighten up and look up at Harry, who looks very unamused.

"You're much more good looking than Shawn made you out to be. Come dance with me?" Zoe pulls on his arm and he pulls his arm away, "I need to drink."

He keeps his eyes on me until he turns to the bartender.

"He seems very.. gentleman like." Shawn clears his throat and looks down at me, "What are you having?"

"Already got it." Harry cuts in. He places a glass in my hand, "Tequila sunrise." He smiles and winks at me.

"Oh, yeah. Cool, cool." Shawn clenches his jaw and lets out a sigh, "Why don't we go dance? Yeah?"

I look over my shoulder mouthing a "thank you" to Harry. He nods and holds his drink up and Zoe walks back up to him.

I kind of feel guilty for setting him up on a blind date.

Shawn grabs my hips with his hands and I sip my drink. He spins me around and my eyes immediately find Harry.

His eyes are set on me and only me. Zoe keeps trying to talk to him but he just shrugs and nods, not breaking his stare.

She looks over at me and gives me a mean look, moving closer to Harry with a smirk growing on her face.

Shawn spins me around and pulls me closer to him, moving his body with mine.

I suddenly feel sick, like I don't want to be here anymore. I step back and finish my drink, "I need another one."

He nods and leads me back to the bar.

Zoe is still blabbing to Harry and he nods, "Mhm." Shawn hands me drink and I sit down on the bar stool.

"So, y/n." Shawn sits down and lays a hand on my thigh, "What are your plans after this?"

I shrug and aggressively sip my straw, "I'm not.. too sure really."

"Oh well I thought you'd like to maybe come back to my place?"

No.

"Oh, well.. I actually have to be up early so.. I really wasn't planning on staying out too late." I lie, "Maybe so-"

"Ah." Zoe yells, "What the hell, Shawn. I thought you were setting me up with someone who wasn't an asshole." Zoe slams her glass down and scoffs as she walks away.

"What the hell did you do to my sister, Harry?" Shawn says standing up. Harry turns slowly and sets his glass down, "I didn't do anything, Shawn." Harry chuckles slightly, "That was the issue, apparently."

"What are you saying?" Shawn steps closer and I get up, putting my hands on each of their chests, "okay. Okay. Stop it." I look at both of them and Harry shakes his head, "Fuck this. I'm not settling for someone's slutty sister."

"You mother fu-" Shawn goes for Harry but I step in between them, "You gonna hit me too?" He sighs and steps back.

"I'm out of here." Harry grumbles and walks away.

"I don't know what his problem is, but he needs to seriously work on his shit." Shawn runs a hand through his hair, "I'm going to go find Zoe." He kisses my head, "I'll call you later."

I stand there for a a moment before I walk out of the bar. I walk down the street a few steps looking for Harry before I pull my phone out to call him.

I hear his phone ring and I jump turning towards the ally, "What the fuck is wrong with you, Harry?" I yell as I shove my phone back into my purse. He walks towards me and shakes his head, "If you're just going to yell at me, I'd rather not hear it."

"What the hell was that?" I ask but he keeps walking. I let out a groan, "Fuck. Harry." I walk quickly to catch up to him, my heels clicking and clacking against the side walk.

He stops when he reaches his car and turns around, "What do you want me to say? Hmm?" He flings his hands in the air, "I wasn't interested in Zoe.. I'm-"

He stops talking and sighs, "You know what.. not even going to waste my breathe."

"What is going on with you? Seriously Harry."

He reaches for the door handle and I put my hands on the hood of his car, "You're not going anywhere until you talk to me."

He stands there with his arms crossed.

"I tried to do you a favor and help you by setting you up with someone who-"

"Help me?" He cuts me off and laughs, "No." he shakes his head.

I sigh and shake my head, "I don't know what you want me to do."

"We'll for starters, don't set me up with your boyfriend's sister." He yells and fails to hold back his laugh.

"What did you do that caused her to make a scene like that?" I look up at him and he shrugs, "Is because I just didn't like her not a good enough answer?"

"But why didn't you-"

"Because she isn't you." He yells cutting me off.

I stand there staring at him and watch at he slowly walks over to me. I stand up from leaning on the car and turn towards him.

"She isn't you." He whispers as he walks up to me quickly, grabbing my face and pulling me in to kiss him.

Our lips move in sync as he pushes be back against the car, "I'm so fucking in love with you, y/n. I wish you would have noticed it sooner."

His lips go back to mine before I even have a chance to say anything. His tongue pushes against mine and he kisses back my jaw line, "Please." He begs, "Just let me finally have you."

I slowly look up at him and nod, "Take me home, Harry." He kisses me again and quickly opens the car door. I slide in and take a deep breathe as I pull the seat belt over my body.

"There's a lot of things I've been waiting for, y/n." He starts the car, "you being all of them."

I reach over and twirl his hair around my fingers, "Then let's cross them off." I bite my lip, "I love you. I just-" I sigh and shrug, "I wasn't sure if you were just my friend or not."

"I don't want to be friends, y/n. Since that night, I've had this.. this love for you and seeing you date other guys.. fuck." He tilts his head and sigh, "Makes me so-"

"Jealous?" I ask with a smirk.

He nods, "And so fucking pissed." He lays a hand on my thigh, "Seeing him touch you.." he slides his hand up, "Made me want to take you, lift that hot little dress up, and fuck the absolute fucking shit out of you on the bar."

His words make my breathe catch in my throat, "Harry." I whisper lowly.

"I've wanted you. For so long, y/n. I just can't sit back and watch you leave me anymore."

I unbuckle and lean over. I plant kisses along his jaw line and lay a hand on his already hard cock that straining against his pants, "I'm not going anywhere."

He moans as I palm his cock, "I promise I'll make it up to you when we get home." I lick up his neck and gently sink my teeth onto his ear lobe, "Punish me, baby. Treat me like your little slut."

He leans his head back slightly and groans, "Oh fuck, I'm going to. I promise."

I continue to kiss his neck, leaving little hickeys here and there. He moans as I grip his cock, "Almost home, baby."

I fall back into the seat and nod, "You have me so wet, Harry." I bring my dress up slightly and run a finger up and now my clothed pussy.

"I can't wait for your cock to be inside of me." I smile and bite my lip as he glances over at me. He clenches his jaw and reaches over. He slips his fingers inside the side of my panties and rubs a finger up and down my slit.

"Fuck." He groans shifting in his seat, "You are so fucking soaked for me."

His finger plays around with my folds, sliding in and out every now and then.

I moan loudly and tilt my head back, "Fuck, Harry."

He sucks in air, "My name is so hot coming from your lips." He takes his hand away and parks the car. He doesn't give me a moment to move before he's unbuckled and leaning over the center console.

His fingers find their place in my pussy, this time he isn't teasing me.

He thrusts his fingers in and out at a fast but satisfyingly pace.

I arch my back and slam my hand against the dash, letting out a pleasured scream.

Harry kisses me to quiet me, "Shh, baby. Don't want to cause a scene in the parking lot."

His hand keeps fucking me, quickly bringing me to, what I assume is, the first orgasm of many. I whimper against his lips and he chuckles, "No one can make you cum like I can."

I nod, my chest rising and falling quickly, "Only you, Harry."

"Only me. Now, come on." He slowly pulls his fingers out and fixes my drenched panties. I slowly spin around and set my legs on the floor. Harry opens my door and helps me out.

He pulls me over and kisses me, "I can't keep my hands off of you." He presses his cock into my leg, "Fuck." He shuts the door with a slam, "Come on."

I follow him up to my door and he unlocks it with his key, not letting go of my hand. He pulls me in and my back meets the door as it slams shut.

He drops to his knees and pulls the wet fabric down my legs. He pushes my dress up and lifts my leg. His mouth attaches to me and I let out a gasp, "Fuck. Fuck." I grab the door knob and grab a fistful of Harry's hair with my other.

He moans against me and nudges my clit with his nose, "Mmm."

"H-Harry." I already feel like I'm going to cum again, "Fu-" I whimper and push my head into the door, "Fuck." I moan and roll my hips on his tongue.

"You taste heavenly, y/n." He groans as he stands up. He places a hand around my neck, his fingers slowly squeezing the sides. He kisses me and I moan as I taste myself on his tongue.

"Don't you taste good, sweetheart?" He whispers, "I could eat you all day."

I nod and moan at his words.

He slips his hands behind me to my back and slowly unzips my dress and quickly takes it off my body.

He takes a step back, his eyes scan over my naked figure and he smirks, "I've missed seeing you like this."

I bite my lip and watch him as he admires me.

He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way, shrugging it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He kicks off his shoes and undoes his pants.

I look down at his cock that's straining against his boxers and I step towards him.

"Let's go somewhere that's more comfortable for your knees, baby." He holds his hand out and I take it. He leads me up the steps and as soon as we reach the top, we're on each other making out as we back into the bedroom.

I kick my heels off before falling back onto the bed, "Fuck." He groans as he takes his boxers off. He pumps his cock a few times and crawl up and lay on my stomach, "Let me."

Before he answers I take his cock in my mouth. I work the tip with my tongue and his breathe hitches and he moans. "Fuck, y/n."

I wrap my hand around him, stroking him, "Does that feel good, daddy?"

His snaps down quickly and a smirk grows on his lips, "It feels amazing, baby." He brushes a hand over my hair, "Now keep doing it." He pushes my head back down onto his cock and he lets out a groan, "Fuck, yeah baby."

I bob my head up and down and reach up to gently massage his balls. He lets out a gasp and bucks his hips, "Sh-shit."

He pulls back, "You're going to make me cum, and I really don't want to end the night this early." He smiles and walks around to sit on the bed. I turn my body and lay on my side, "How do you want me?"

He smirks and leans back against the headboard. He motions for me to come to him, "Any way I can get you." He whispers as I straddle him.

I drag my fingers down his chest and stomach and wrap my fingers around his cock, holding it as I slide down onto him. I bring my hand up and lay it on his chest, "Harry." I breathe out.

He bites his lip and grips my hips, "That feel good?"

I nod quickly, "Yes."

He brushes hair from my face, "Don't move."

"W-what?"

"You heard me." He smirks and tilts his head back and rests it, "I'm punishing you. Remember? So you're going to sit there for a little bit and I'm going to admire how fucking sexy you look on my cock."

I whimper slightly, "no, please."

He smirks, "Uh huh."

I dig my nails into his shoulders, "Harry." I whine, "Please."

"If you move, I'll make your wait longer for my cock and I know you want it so bad." He reaches up and plays with my nipples, "I love you."

I look at him, forgetting what we're doing for a moment and smile, "I love y-you." He thrusts his hips up gasping me to gasp, "Harry."

"Say it again. I love when you say it."

He grips my hips and slowly rocks them on his cock. The teasing has my brain fuzzy, "I-I.." I moan, "I love.. fuck.. I love you." I wrap my arms around his neck, "I love you."

He presses his lips to mine and slides a hand up my back, "I've waited to hear you say that." He kisses down my neck, "Now fuck your self on my cock, baby."

I quickly start to bounce, moaning loudly against his neck, "H-Harry."

He moans and holds me tighter, "Fuck."

He lets me ride him for a little longer before he leans me back, "Bend over." I nod and roll off of him, getting onto my knees. I slowly bend over and rest my head on the bed.

Harry positions himself behind me and brings his hand down on my ass cheek with a hard slap before he grips my hips.

I let out a whimper and he pushes himself into me, "Fuck."

He pulls out and thrusts in hard which causes me to let out a scream, "Fuck."

His thrusts are hard and slow and his moans are loud.

"You sound so hot, Harry." I moan pushing my hips back to meet his. He trails a hand up my back and wraps my hair around it, "Do I?" He groans as he pulls me up so my back meets his chest, "You like it when I moan for you?"

"Yes daddy." I moan, "Fuck, yesyesyes."

"Only for you, huh?" He pulls my hair and pushes into me, "Hmm?"

"O-only for me." I repeat, "Only me."

"You're damn right baby." He starts to thrusts again and rests his head on my shoulder, "Fuck." I reach back to grab his wrist but he takes my arm and pins it against my lower back.

He reaches around and his fingers wrap around my throat with his other hand.

I bite my lip and my moans are slightly muffled.

"Your pussy feels fucking good squeezing around my cock." He moans, "Fuck."

I whimper and my eyes roll back as I cum again.

"Again? Look at you, sweetheart. Keeping daddy's cock wet." He lets go of my throat and his thrusts slow down. He lets go of my arm and rolls me over, leaning down to hover his body over mine, "You're going to make me cum soon, where do you want it?"

I lean up and kiss him, "Where ever you want me to have it."

He smirks, "Good answer, sweetheart." He slide aback in and groans, "You're so good to me." He interlocks his fingers with mine and pins my hands above my head.

I wrap my legs around his waist and arch my back, "Fuck. Fuck." I moan and tilt my head back.

"Y/N." Harry breathes out, "I-I.. you need to.. un-"

I tighten my legs around him, "I want all of you."

He smirks and his head falls slightly as he groans one final time. He squeezes my hands as he cums.

He lifts his head and shakes it's while looking at me, "You.." he laughs slightly and gently let's go of my hands.

"Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time, okay." I laugh and shrug, "Nothing we can do about it now." He nods, "You're right. Are you okay? I didn't hurt you did I?"

He reaches out and brushes my cheek with his thumb. I shake my head and lay a hand on his, "No. I'm okay." He leans in and kisses me, "You know. I should probably ask just to make it official."

I tilt my head, my head still slightly fuzzy.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

I smile and nod, "Yes, Harry. Only if you'll be my boyfriend?" I laugh and he smiles.

"I think I can do that." He leans in and kisses me, "I really do love you."

I look down at him and run a hand through his hair, "And I really love you." He smiles and gets up and walks over to my dresser, "Here." He pulls out a shirt and throws it to me.

I unfold it and smile, "When did you put that in there?" I slip his shirt on. He shrugs, "Earlier today. I knew you liked it so much, so." He slips on a a pair of sweats he had in the bottom drawer and I laugh, "When did you move in?"

He shrugs, "I'm always here so."

"No, no. I'm not complaining, that's actually smart." I stand up and he holds up a lace pair of panties, "Wear these ones please? And no pants." He winks.

"Give them here." I smile and shake my head, "Spoiled is what you are, Harry. Spoiled." He walks over to me and holds me, "I know. I know. But. I'll make you something to eat in return."

"Oh okay, now I'm spoiled. Please do."

We walk downstairs and I laugh as I seen the trail of clothes going from the door to the steps.

My phone rings in my purse and I grab it off the floor and get it out, "Oh shit."

"What babe?" Harry asks peaking his head out from the kitchen.

"It's thing one calling." I roll my eyes and toss it onto the couch. I go to walk away and it rings again. Harry walks out with a smirk and picks it up, "She's busy."

He chuckles and hangs up, "Took care of that for you."

He tosses my phone down and pulls me with him to the kitchen.

"Thank you." I say looking up at him. He gives me a kiss, "Anything for you."

——

Requests are accepted. Send me a message!

[anto-pops]

should we be expecting breeding kink seb soon if you’re 9 pages in already?? 👀👀

I certainly hope so 😩 I still have to write the actual kids into the story, right now it’s 9 pages of gratuitous smut LMAO

The Dad!Sebastian aspect of it is up next for me to work on. I’m crossing my fingers I can get it done in the next day or two but this fic has lots of layers to it so I’m just going with the flow

[take-everything-you-can]

Im so incredibly bored send me some smutty little thots so I can write a few sentences to revive this brain ..... Pls and thank you