#the temptation to write a fic

[moonlight-prose]

I love all of the prompts for your Sinful Soiree! It's so hard to choose one!

May I please request 💕 Steven Grant 💕 with the prompt: 🌹 "i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." 🌹

I picked what I think would fluster him because i have the feminine urge to make that man ✨blush ✨

Thank you, love!

SUBTLE THINGS

a/n: when i say i meant to finish this within the first week of me doing the event. i had half of it written but steven's inspo vanished for some reason. honestly this fic is just porn very little plot. i tried to add some, but i don't know if i was entirely successful. given that it's steven being needy and a little bit greedy. i hope you enjoy it darling! (also yes that gif was entirely necessary. it shut off my brain seeing it so i had to use it).

summary: "steven wasn’t greedy by nature. but something about you flipped a switch in his mind, and suddenly he was a starved man, begging for a taste of whatever you had to offer."

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, teasing, steven being hopelessly in love, fluff, oral (f receiving), cum eating, cumplay, masturbation, slight sub!steven vibes.

He was never subtle about the way he looked at you. Stealing glances as if he couldn’t get enough—addicted to the sight in front of him. Date night was a regular occurrence when it came to your relationship. A small routine to give yourselves something to look forward to.

If anything it gave you a chance to leave the flat for a change; most nights spent curled up on his couch in pajamas. You cherished moments like that, but you relished in times like this. Where you sat across from him done up as if it was the first time you were doing this, the sparks flying between you stronger than that night.

The same night he walked you to your place, only to come back an hour later per your request.

You smiled, sipping on the wine he picked and delighting in the fruity tang of it. Wishing more than anything that you were tasting it off his tongue. He watched your throat as you swallowed, his tongue peeking out to swipe against his lips as his fingers drummed on the table. He seemed antsy, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

Steven was first nervous when you were together, wanting to please you however you wanted. But then things shifted. He gained confidence in how he could render you speechless with just his touch alone. How you lost your breath with a single look in your direction. Except there were still moments when you were able to bring back that stuttering man you fell in love with—watching his eyes dilate, chest heaving with anticipation.

“Dinner was delicious,” you said, pushing away the now empty plate of food.

He nodded, his lips pulling up into that precious grin. “I found this place in a guidebook. A bit old fashioned if I do say so myself.”

“Old fashioned is good though.”

His smile grew, mouth opening to continue telling you the details of the guidebook in particular, but your foot running up the length of his leg caused him to freeze. You could practically see the words die on his tongue as his eyes widened, his breath stuttering in his chest. There were only a handful of times where you acted this brazen out in public—this needy for his attention. His affection.

Steven could replay them in his mind with ease—each moment burned into his brain.

“Love…”

“I have a little detail of my own,” you stated as if you were about to tell him the most mundane fact known to man.

“Yeah?” he asked, breathless to the way you ran your finger along your bottom lip, cleaning up the smudged lipstick that was there. He found himself wanting to lick it off your mouth.

You nodded with a sly smile. “I’m not wearing any underwear.” He choked on this spit and you watched in glee. His chest heaving as he coughed—cheeks flushing a dark red. “Thought you’d like to know.”

“You’re…” His eyes dropped to the part of the table that covered your lap and you could practically see the gears in his head moving.

Steven thought for a second his heart would burst out of his chest. The knowledge that you were sitting there, bare for him to touch, to taste. He was a reserved man. Believing that you deserved the utmost respect when it came to where you two made love. But there were nights when he felt himself slip—desire overcoming any sort of sense that might have been running through his brain.

Before he could get a coherent string of words together, you stood from the table. The words bathroom and be right back being uttered. Except he wasn’t paying attention, eyes focusing on the slight sway of your hips when you walked. His thoughts immediately fell to what you looked like beneath your dress. Were you wet for him? Were you dripping down the inside of your thighs?

He was standing abruptly and following you before he could get a hold on himself.

Thankfully he was always one to be prepared. Paying for the bill before either of you finished your meals, because he knew you weren’t one to have dessert at the restaurant. Too invested in the thought of finally getting home where Steven spent the better part of the night between your thighs. He could practically taste you on his tongue, see your head tilted back in bliss as your thighs shook around his head.

His fist was rapping against the wooden door of the women’s bathroom in mere minutes. Waiting for you to open it for him.

“Took you long enough,” you practically purred, tugging him in by the lapels on his blazer.

He was pushed against the door, your lips sliding against his in a way that had his body going lax, a whine building up in his throat. In a quick haphazard move, he managed to lock the door before grasping for your hips—walking you back until your waist met the sink. His tongue licked into your mouth, your wet needy moan muffled as he took and took and took.

Steven wasn’t greedy by nature. But something about you flipped a switch in his mind, and suddenly he was a starved man, begging for a taste of whatever you had to offer. He pushed the skirt of your dress up, his chest heaving as he took in air like he’d never get it again. And there it was. The truth of your little detail all shiny with your slick—your inner thighs practically coated as well.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, eyes snapping up to see your lips spread into a smile, your hand grasping onto his wrist to tug him closer.

He groaned when his fingers slid along your cunt, the warmth of you practically seeping into his palm. There was no doubt now that Steven wouldn’t wait until the two of you got home. Not when you were willing and ready for him to take you now. Finding your clit with ease he grinned when your high pitched moan echoed off the walls of the bathroom. You canted your hips against him with a fervor he shared, your lips parting with small gasps of air.

“S-Steven,” you begged, teeth coming out to dig into your bottom lip.

“I’m here.” He wanted to devour you. To drink down the taste of you as if you were the best fucking dessert in this restaurant, because to Steven…you were.

“I need—f-fuck—need you baby.”

He nodded and before you could stop him, he was falling to his knees and spreading your legs wide enough for him to fit. With a dazed look in his eyes, he watched his fingers spread your slick up to your clit—his cock twitching painfully in his pants. What he wouldn’t give to spend hours right here, but you had a limited amount of time and he wanted to get you home.

Licking a broad stripe up to your clit, Steven felt the control snap inside of his body. Your hand slapped against your mouth effectively muffling your cry as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Two fingers dipping into you and curling as if on instinct. For him this was exactly that. He knew where to touch, what to do to bring you right to the end and back again.

He wanted to drive you to the edge and watch you fly off. The sight had become an addiction to him ever since the first time he saw it; now adamant on witnessing such beauty over and over again.

You dug your fingers into his curls, your hips rolling over his mouth and his eyes fluttered shut. A soft moan reverberating against your cunt as he licked at you, fingers pumping in and out at a rapid pace. He was drunk, desperate to have you entirely spread on his tongue. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Sucking your lips into his mouth, he let them go with a pop, a wide grin spreading across his lips when your whole body jerked—a cry echoing behind your hand.

“Taste so good,” he mumbled, curving his fingers even more—watching in awe as your thighs trembled.

Words evaded you at that point. Your mind, a mess of nothing but Steven and the building pressure in your torso. He dove back in, doubling down on his efforts to have you cum into his mouth—your taste, something he wanted permanently stuck on his taste buds.

It’s when you began to rock your hips along his tongue with reckless abandon, moving him how you wanted, is when he felt it. The painful throbbing in his pants. Unbuckling his belt with one hand he managed to wrap his hand around his cock—alleviating some of the pressure. It wasn’t enough, but Steven didn’t care. His sole focus wasn’t on getting himself off tonight. No, he wanted to watch you crumble.

To scream his name so the whole restaurant heard you.

“Steven—” you gasped sharply, head falling back. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

He dragged his teeth lightly along your clit, pressing down on your g-spot and you shattered. Sobbing his name as your fingers tightened on his curls—pain blooming in his scalp and shoving him right over the edge with you. He grunted, hips thrusting into his hand as he spilled over his palm. A bright heat flooded his body, your slick now gushing into his awaiting mouth, and Steven felt like he’d ascended into pure bliss.

There was no bringing him down from this cloud, no saving him from you consuming him whole.

“Ah fuck love,” he grunted, biting into your thigh as he pumped his hand to reach that delicious point of overstimulation you usually brought him to.

“Did you…” Your face was fucked out, eyes hazy and blissed out, but still you watched as he continued to touch himself in front of you.

Something about the sight of Steven on his knees, so desperate to have you he couldn’t wait, shifting your entire mind. You bit your lip, tilting his head back as he gasped in pleasure—his cheeks red and flushed. It happened before you understood entirely what you were doing.

“Look at you baby,” you cooed, spreading your legs a bit more to show him the mess he made of you. “Open wide,” you breathed.

He followed your words without hesitation, his mouth parting. Sliding your fingers through your cum, you pressed your now shiny digits into his mouth, moaning when he sucked them clean. His whole body responded to you as it always did.

“Take me home Steven.” You wanted him inside you—aching to have him fill your now dripping cunt.

Getting to his feet, he tucked himself back into his pants and gathered you close. Pressing a deep kiss to your lips, licking into your mouth and spreading your own taste along your tongue. That familiar heady feeling returned, flooding your entire body until you practically hummed. He wasn’t subtle in the way he touched you, how he made it clear how much he wanted you.

Yet that’s what made you love him even more.

[yuri-is-online]

Oh my God trey has a domesticity kink 💀.

Yuu puts a hand to his forehead to check for a fever and he is griping that counter.

Yuu makes a joke about being his housewife/husband/gender neutral chibi thing in the future and he is trying SO HARD to keep it in his pants lmao suffer

Listen- he takes care of everyone else but never himself. To the point he probably just doesn't realize he even wants that because he assumes he'd rather just be left alone.

Yuu tells him to rely on them more, and he's left a dent in the counter and doesn't know why. But oh god why has it gotten so hot in here he needs to leave immediately.

[saintdollyparton]

CHAPTER 2 OF THE AVATRICE BRIDGERTON AU IS OFFICIALLY A-GO!

And just in time to bask in the glory that was season 3 of Bridgerton! WE'RE GETTING CANON QUEER REP, Y'ALL!! We love a queer woman showrunner. Again, I'm sorry it took so long. But life is gonna life, y'know? I'm doing better now. Thank you all for being so understanding. Updates should be waayyyy more frequent in the future.

In this chapter, we see Ava's introduction into Society and Beatrice's introduction to Yearning.

Hope you enjoy!

[local-limebug]

i hate MANY things about how angsty the s'chn t'gai family's canon is but i think my main issue with it is that it really makes a "jim meets spock's siblings" scenario impossible because of the timelines

(p.s. if you know any fics of jim meeting spock's siblings, send them my way pls)

[merakiui]

give in to the diasomnia brainworms!!!

I REFUSE. ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡) I've already given in.

It's actually a little amusing because when twst was first released in English I created a tier list to illustrate to my friend what my current thoughts were for each character. I put Malleus and Lilia in the category titled senior citizen LOL. But now I am here and I'm seeing the appeal that Diasomnia has.......... especially the appeal with Lilia being such an eccentric father figure... he takes you in and raises you alongside Silver, but what he fails to teach you and Silver is that there are different types of love and so Silver's "platonic, familial affections" for you aren't so platonic and familial the older he gets. And Lilia genuinely sees nothing wrong with it, so he enables it because it's just the sweetest thing to see how much Silver dotes on you. So when Silver proclaims he'll marry you and start a family with you and then his friends find out it's you he's talking about!!!!! T_T they're giving him the strangest looks, but Lilia's so happy and proud. Please give him lots of grandchildren. <3

AND GENERAL LILIA. OTL he does not care about you at all... so cold-hearted. >_< maybe you're a human prisoner from a fallen kingdom and since war brings out the absolute worst in people he throws you to his men and you're used as stress relief,,,, or maybe you're from the enemy's side and General Vanrouge takes you as his bride because he can. >:) and you'll do anything to stay alive, so if survival comes at the cost of playing wife to this monstrous war general you'll do it.

And then there's that very crucial piece of information from book seven regarding a certain something!!!!!!!!!! I won't mention it due to spoilers, but ever since I learned it I have thought of it often whenever the Malleus worms invade my brain. orz

[owl-bones]

i have so many faeu thoughts in my brain

[semidecentpoet]

Hippie/surfer dude Gurdy (aka the plant with kind eyes) as promised!!!

Thanks to @daybringersol and @aubs-the-randman for beta-reading!!!

AND THANK YOU FOR 1,000 HITS, THAT'S LIKE A LOT

THAT'S LIKE,,,, 3 FUCKIN ZEROS

[emlovessid]

november 13, cave, 137 words unofficial jegulus microfics with @onehundredflamingos

They’ve been dancing around each other for months.

Hidden smiles and heated moments where he’s sure they’re going to kiss, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their takeout or a phone ringing or Sirius. Movie nights spent sitting far too close to be considered platonic, falling asleep and waking up wrapped around each other, Regulus’ breath hot against his neck.

James has always known that one of them would cave sooner or later; the tether holding them back fraying more with every passing day. That one day their last remaining thread of self control will snap and they’ll devour each other.

When it happens on a Tuesday evening, James is shocked that instead of passion and frenzy, it’s quiet and tender; foreheads touching, hands cupping his face, a soft press of lips against his own.

[greenerteacups]

What do you think as Hermione's career would be post battle of Hogwarts? To me her being minister for magic really doesn't make sense. She does not have patience or tact to wade through murky waters of politics 😭😭

So hard to say! The Trio are so, so young when we leave them, I find it almost impossible to project their futures farther than a few years out. The job that suited me at 17 would be radically unsuited to me now. That's why of all the Trio, Ron's ending strikes me as the most realistic — he jumps straight into the save-the-world business again, burns out, realizes he's actually Done The Fuck Enough, Thanks, and pivots into a low-stress career where he gets to see his family a lot. Feels accurate! The others are weirder to me because they do seem to just... pick a lane and stay there.

With Hermione, you could spin her a couple ways. You could say that she leans into her bookish side and does research or teaching, which is not my preference for a couple reasons (namely, I don't think Hermione would like academia as a profession; she finds her classwork interesting and enjoys intellectual validation, but she'd be stifled and wasted in a DPhil program, and she'd be infuriated by the administrative politicking of your average higher-ed faculty). You could say that she gets disaffected with politics and ends up as a barrister or a lobbyist of some kind, but if anything that requires more political finesse, because you don't actually have institutional power, you're just handling the people who make decisions and trying to persuade them of your goals. This is not Hermione's preferred method of influence. She's not even particularly good at persuasion, she just happens to be smart enough (and right often enough) that people take her ideas seriously.

Or you could say her brashness fades with the years into a softened flavor of tell-you-like-it-is honesty, which some politicians actually do successfully trade on; as we see in British politics today, you don't have to be all that charming or clever to get ahead, you just need to be really driven and well-connected (which Hermione completely is; she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the first postwar Minister and her bestie, the Literal Messiah, runs the Auror Office.) But I don't know if Hermione especially wants to be Minister, after the war. She's just watched years of horrendous bureaucratic incompetence plunge the country into a violent civil conflict. She's had not one, but two Ministers of Magic try to bully or shame her friends into complicity with fascism. Her view of government is... likely extremely dark.

But Hermione also isn't the kind of person who sees her life as a quest for happiness. Babygirl has a savior complex that makes Harry look selfish. (She basically kills her parents — yeah, obliviating is a form of murder, #changemymind — "for their own good," and justifies every batshit, vindictive, mean-spirited move she ever pulls on the grounds that it "helps" one of her friends.) She is a mean, lean, dragon-slaying machine, and she needs a dragon. After Voldemort, the Ministry is the no. 1 threat to muggle-borns and non-wizarding Beings. As a war heroine with basically infinite political capital, I'd be surprised if she didn't try to do something there. That said, Hermione is so vivacious and dynamic that she could potentially grow in a hundred different directions; it's possible that all of this, while true of her at 18, becomes completely inaccurate by 22. That's why I'm not too fussed about any particular fanon interpretation.

[anderstrevelyan]

Hmm, I officially have a fully polished first chapter of my next fic, time to fight the temptations

What if I...just—

[hippolotamus]

🧜‍♂️ 🧜‍♂️ 🧜‍♂️ 🧜‍♂️ 🧜‍♂️

15 sentences of MerBuck for you, dear Anon. For Context, Eddie is grabbing a bite to eat before he goes to find Buck for a visit 💖

The waitress, Ginny, stops by, offering a ‘what’ll it be, darlin’?’, followed by ‘comin’ right up’ after he orders a turkey club sandwich, waffle fries and an iced tea. He smiles politely as he hands her his menu. Spaced evenly along the counter are miniature jukeboxes, shiny chrome and off-white buttons with faded markings. He flicks through the pages, scanning the song selections. The music variety is an impressive mix that reminds him of listening to records in Abuela’s living room, and taking Shannon out for dancing and pool. Speaking of which, he should really answer his wife and reassure her that he’s fine. The handwritten note he left that morning wasn’t exactly brimming with details. Just that he had an important trip to take and he would be home by the next day. Not exactly husband of the year material. “Pick something good,” Ginny teases, setting down his plate and drink. “Thanks, but, uh, probably not today.” “Well, if you change your mind, I always liked E2, personally.” She gives him a friendly smile before disappearing behind a swinging door. Curiosity gets the better of him and he stifles a chuckle when he finds the listing – Under the Boardwalk by The Drifters. How fitting.

tagging some others that asked about/were interested in this one: @daffi-990 (oh look he's at a different diner brooding about his love life...) @underwaterninja13 @tizniz @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples

@theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming mi amor @bidisasterevankinard @monsterrae1

[starrierknight]

catboy satoru.... save me catboy satoru

[not-poignant]

Do you think there will be Raphael pov in palmarosa at any point? I love how you write hiiiiim

Hiya anon!

So far I'm leaning towards no.

The reason is that I actually like that he's so hard to read, and because I find the concept of writing his mind genuinely challenging because he is so inhuman to me. I think if I were writing his POV I'd feel seduced by the urge to humanise him 'internally' and we'd lose the mystery and mercurial power of seeing him as an outsider (i.e. from Astarion's POV).

And while that's tempting in its own way, I'm very much not wanting to do that either! Part of what I enjoy in this story is watching Astarion deal with the loneliness in a way of being with someone / spending time with someone who thinks so differently to him, who prioritises differently to him, who has different values to him, and who is so very *not* human.

And sometimes that's something I want to write, but I actually don't want to humanise Raphael to that degree, so I'll be avoiding his POV, I'm sorry!

[thewolvesof1998]

Temptation Tuesday

Okay so it’s only been Tuesday for 40ish minutes but I’m working tomorrow so I’m posting early. I’m back again with the Buddie Mafia Au fic, it’s tempting me more and more each day but I have to finish my Cowboy/Rodeo AU before I can start on it. Even so, I’ve been collecting ideas, little moments and photo inspirations so here it is:

Star-crossed lovers, Eddie and Buck come from two warring crime families. The Diaz family is run by Eddie's Tio and the Nash family is run by Bobby Nash. Both men are destined to inherit the family business and must prove their worth. A chance encounter and a night spent together have them questioning everything and now they must figure out if love is worth dying for.

"To love you is to choose death," Eddie says

He can see Buck's face crumble, heart-shattering against the ground from where Eddie has dropped it. He aches to pick up all the pieces and glue them back together. In choosing Buck he would not only bring death to himself but Chris and Buck too and he wouldn't, couldn't do that. A broken heart is better than being six feet deep in the ground. 

...

"So what do you choose?" Buck asks

"For you mi amor, I choose death" Eddie says and they both know what that means, I choose you, in spite of our families, war and death. I choose death because loving you is worth dying for. 

...

At first glance, you wouldn't know that the tattoos matched for one Buck's is two solid bands around his right forearm and Eddie’s is writing that wraps around his left. But when they stand next to each other, Buck on the left, Eddie always on his right, the bands line up. Buck's are for Eddie and Chris, his boys. Eddie is a quote por ti mi amor, elijo la muerte (For you my love, I choose death) for those are the word Eddie said when he choose Buck, choose him in spite of family, war and death. They wear no other mark of their devotion to one another, no rings, it is too dangerous in their line of work to so clearly mark one's heart when it is outside of one's body but they had indulged in these tattoos that no one knows what they mean outside of their innermost trusted circle. 

If you want to check out some of my other works my current WIPs are a ‘Buddie MMA Rivals AU’ and ‘Buddie Rodeo/Bull Riding AU’ and here’s a master list of some of my works and this is my AO3

tagging: (no pressure) @wikiangela​​​ @wildlife4life​​ ​ @alyxmastershipper​​ @prince-buck-diaz​ @spotsandsocks​ @try-set-me-on-fire​ @jesuisici33​

[chiliyue-archived]

OH MY GOD SIGMA WITH A PONYTAIL AHAGDGHWBW

when I tell u, I was in the process of passing out (cause I didn't sleep last night hehehaha) this woke me the fuck up

IM RUNNING LAPS IN MY ROOM, KICKING MY.FEET OUT. LOOK AT MY BBG. IM SICK, IM ILL AKADJDKDNLS

the art is so pretty, I want to glue it to my forehead.

[cupidskissx]

✨Azerbaijan Abnegation✨

Monaco Malaise Part 2

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Max Verstappen

Word count: 16,976

Chapters: 2/2

Warnings: Angst, Conflicted Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, Fluff if you squint

Summary:

Charles stares at him intently, “Last time was an anomaly.” Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, “Yeah, that better not happen again.”

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement.

They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room…

Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

*

Chapter 2:

This week has been correction after correction, managing the fierce oscillation between wanting Charles and wanting to stop wanting him, and now he has his arms full of opposite lock. Charles, yet again, has a front row seat to watch Max spin out of control towards the barriers.

Authors note:

Technically I’ve been working on Part 2 since June last year. After failing miserably writing it in Charles’ POV I abandoned it. Then I started to re-work this fic back into Max’s POV in October.

To see it finally posted in honour of Monaco, and Monaco Malaise, makes me a little emotional, I sincerely hope you enjoy it! 

Read on Ao3

The intention is to one day write the Part 3 I’ve had in my head since June last year, but that’ll be a long way away. I hope to see you back here for a refresher if I ever manage to finish it. As always, you're welcome to dive into my DMs so we can swoon over Lestappen together!