#SMUTTY LITERATURE

[shewolfofvilnius]

happy to be doing my part to help rebuild Dragon Age Tumblr the last few days as Veilguard grows closer.

[averseunhinged]

wip wednesday! back again after a week off for global warming migraines. this is more of the feelings part of the porn with feelings. it keeps getting longer, but whatever. THAT'S FINE.

no actual porn in this part, but imma content warn for mention of hook ups with underhanded motives and also subsequent compulsion regarding that. it's douchebag bro revenge stuff, but it's still ehhhhhh. pretty shitty.

parts i've posted previously (i thiiiiiink this is the correct read order):

this part

then this week's snippet

then this

this

and finally this.

"He hasn't been doing anything," she flailed her hands in agitation, unable to think of the exact word she wanted, and finally settling on an unsatisfactory, "hybridy."

"But he has been doing something." It sounded like casual interest, but she'd known Klaus long enough to start to decode the full spectrum of nuance to his most pleasant line deliveries.

"Stupid ex-boyfriend stuff, not supernatural warfare! Look," Caroline said and then stopped to gather her thoughts. She looked around for somewhere to sit, but the sofa wasn't very long, and Klaus was just lanky enough to take up the entire length. So, she folded gracelessly next to his hip. He oofed when she elbowed him in the belly, but scootched over agreeably enough. "Before everything, Tyler was a jerk. A really huge one. But he changed so much when he triggered the curse. It was like the angry part that made him feel like everyone owed him something was gone, and he was just as scared and lost as I had been when I died. I had Stefan helping me." She kept going when Klaus scoffed, talking over him. "But Tyler didn't have anyone at first. For a little while, it felt like we were the only ones who understood each other. A lot happened, but we were friends for the first time, not just two people who'd always known each other."

He looked at her for a long moment, gentling in a way he only managed with any regularity for her and, very occasionally, Rebekah, and admitted, "I know."

"Right." Caroline looked away, uncomfortable with the reminder that Klaus had sire-bonded her entire relationship with Tyler out of him before he'd realized he was unable to refuse. "I assumed all of the jerk stuff went away, but I guess it was just dormant until now."

Klaus looked very much like he wanted to argue with that point as well, but exercised a seldom-used ability to read the room. "So, he isn't doing anything threatening, but he is being...uncouth with you."

"Uncouth? Really?" She laughed sadly and shrugged. "I guess he is, yeah. It's embarrassing. Mostly for him, but a little bit for me, too. Rebekah's been taking care of it. Not that I wanted her to, but there's no stopping her when she decides she's offended."

"He offended her?"

There was no part of her that wanted to continue, but she knew he'd get it out of someone eventually. Rebekah's willingness to keep him out of the loop had done a lot for their friendship, but Caroline doubted the other woman wouldn't spill if he asked her outright.

"Do not get involved, okay? I mean it. The two of you need to stay the hell away from each other." She swept up her hair, arranging it precisely over her shoulder, and twirled the curls around her fingers, glancing around the room without landing on anything for long. “He’s been hooking up with girls on my floor. And in my classes. And random girls I’ve met, who seemed fun. I think he was trying to make me jealous at first, but when he realized I just thought he was being skeezy, he started telling them he couldn’t see them again, because they knew me. Suddenly, I’m the hosebeast ex-girlfriend, standing in the way of true love, with no potential friends, because he’s poisoned the well.”

Klaus caught her fingers as they pulled on her hair a little bit too hard, tugged her hand down and cupped it with his own, running his thumb in soft strokes over her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, shut up. You are not.”

“I,” he pursed his lips in thought before carefully answering, “dislike seeing you in pain.”

Caroline was trapped by the way he looked at her, like he was begging her to believe his sincerity. As often as Klaus was the architect of his own suffering, and as well as he'd seemed able to ford her river of brutal rejection, she knew the times she'd hurt him the most were when he'd dropped the charm, but she'd still doubted him.

She didn't anymore. He'd been a warm and mildly flirty companion all summer, seemingly content enough in her willing company without pushing for more. It made it easier to blurt out the truth.

"Rebekah's been compelling everyone he sleeps with to think he's really bad in bed. Like under a minute and then," she ended the sentence by tilting her head, shutting her eyes, and snoring.

Klaus stared at her, wide-eyed, his lips pressed together in a deliberate frown.

"Don't laugh," she insisted and his composure broke. It was infectious, his giggle. She'd always felt guilty about how easy it was to laugh with him.

"No! No, don't. She shouldn't be," Caroline complained, helplessly trying to hold onto her composure. "Compulsion shouldn't be used for--"

"Is it working?" he asked, still grinning at her.

"Yes," she reluctantly admitted. "I'm pretty sure she threatened him with something else, too, but she won't tell me, and I don't want to talk to him."

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret."

"Not this again."

"Tyler is a wolf, sweetheart," Klaus insisted. "We're stubborn creatures. He isn't going to let it go unless someone makes him. Surely, Rebekah's methods are preferable to my own?"

[teamdilf]

I've posted a bit of smutty Solavellan literature today. 👀

Solas eats Iris out while she sits on her throne. That’s it, that’s the fic.

“You have a throne.”

More than one, and inquisition staff change out the throne depending on who their most prominent guests are, and right now it’s Orlesian-themed, the spread wings at the top of it covered in gold leaf; symbolic of everything she hates about the richest of this world and she wishes she could drag it into the centre of the Great Hall and blow it to dust.

“A stupid one,” she mutters.

“One appropriate for you to be worshipped upon,” Solas says and she stares at him, because he loathes the idea that she’s the sort of demi-god that she’s been presented publicly as - and so does she. His grin turns mischievous. “A very specific form of worship, to be more precise.”

“Are you offering to fuck me on the throne in the Great Hall?” she asks; the idea making her ache, washing away the vestiges of frustration remaining in her hot-headed mind.

“No. I am offering to prostrate myself at your feet, slip under your skirt and volunteer my mouth and tongue to service you. For the sake of this inquisition, of course.”

[meandragonagechats]

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

ocean ocean ocean!!! happy friday! From PWP prompts - biting to stay quiet ;))))

for @dadrunkwriting

Haven't written these two in forever, so here's a quick piece of smutty literature for Elara Lavellan/Blackwall! :D

-:-

Blackwall presses into her, thick and large and taking Elara's breath away. Her legs curl over his hips, ankles catching at the small of his back.

She mouths at his shoulder, and at a particularly rough thrust she can't help but moan, the noise echoing through the small chamber of the wine cellar.

"Shh, my lady," he croons, his voice rumbling in his chest. She can fairly feel the vibrations of his words. "The others will hear."

"Let them," she groans. He rolls his hips and she sees stars.

His arms bracket her against the canvas-covered crate. He's so strong, her Blackwall. Her Thom. She knows from experience he can lift and hold her easily, even as muscle-laden as she is. His thrusts have her sliding over the canvas, the fabric scraping her skin, and he shifts to fold his broad hands over her hips and pulls her onto his length.

She wails. Elara can't help it.

He catches her in a punishing kiss. "Quiet," he growls against her mouth.

Elara bites his bottom lip and tugs, drawing a low groan from him. She knows he likes it this way, rough and bratty, and though she can't call herself a brat she knows how to drive him wild. Her hands tunnel into his dark hair, following the thin lines of gentle silver, and pulls.

She smirks at the gasp that tears out of him. His fingers bruise her skin, marks she'll wear proudly beneath her clothes. "Quiet," she says back to him breathlessly.

It's quick, and it's dirty, and he pummels into her, his hips snapping in a brutish rhythm against her arse. Tension ratchets up like a bowstring pulling taut in her belly. Her limbs shake. Elara's close, so close, and--

Blackwall tips her hips, angles himself just a little differently, and she muffles her scream by biting the join of his neck and shoulder as she comes, stars exploding behind her eyelids. He roars and curls over her for another handful of strokes before he spills hotly into her body, the tight clench of her cunt like a vise grip. Her legs tighten around his hips, keeping him close, and she shakes, her arms twined around his neck. Elara pants damply against his throat, heart hammering in her own rabbit-fast.

"Thom," she moans softly, voice thready with exertion. Her chest heaves. Elara can't catch her breath. Blackwall's chest rises and falls like a great bellows, his breath hot on her temple. His hands gentle, and he lets go of her hips in favor of dropping onto his elbows above her, pressing her flat onto the canvas.

"Shouldn't have done that," he pants. Blackwall nudges his forehead against Elara's. "I don't regret it, but I'm sorry all the same."

"For what?"

"For--for spilling inside you."

She gives a weak chuckle. "That's why I have teas, you great bear. Besides," Elara says lowly, "I like it when you do."

Blackwall snorts. "You'll be the death of me yet."

She smiles and kisses him sweetly. "Never," she vows against his lips.

[katesattic]

As much as I like slow burns, I appreciate that the book my friend recommended to me has a kiss in chapter 2. Like, yes bitches, kiss now and question your feelings about the kiss and the love interest later.

Sprinkle in the spice, mama needs some appetizer smut.

[agaycabbage]

A Fic is Born...

Happy Dragon Age Day! I love Revas, and I’m so excited to share them with you. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43406028/chapters/109116492

[jkbunny2001]

Okay, so I just watched “THE BOY” for the first time in my life… and bitch you cannot tell that Brahm’s not a sub leaning switch

LOOK AT THIS MAN, HE’S CRAWLING FOR HER

This is my personal opinion, but this is what I think Brahm is in the bedroom:

• can be dominant but loves to be please his girl, doing whatever he want to make her feel good

• sub switch 1000%, tell him what to do

• mommy kink, without a doubt, which ties into the switch, he wants to please his mommy

• solid 8 inches with 3 inch girth

• constantly horny, definitely likes to watch you pleasure yourself through the wall

• loves to cuddle afterwards, clinging to you after receiving or giving you pleasure

• still 1000% self conscious about you leaving him and would do anything to make you stay

• wants to be buried in you 24/7

• loves to see you ride him, that’s when his mommy kink pops out the most, seeing you dominate him from the top

…..not gonna lie it’s a huge turn on, if he wasn’t a psychopathic killer…..

OH WHO GIVES A SHIT!? HES HOT ASF! LOOK AT THIS BITCH!

And look how cute he is with his hands in his pockets 😭

Now I wanna do a fanfic about him… lemme know! Is that something you would read??

[averseunhinged]

wip wednesday! still diligently chugging away at finishing some things.

this is less of a sneak peak and more of a probably going to get drastically edited down and become an outtake once i figure out how much backstory is too much backstory. i've been trying to improve my habits and hork up words without overthinking everything too much just to finish complete working drafts. anyway, that's why it's so long.

if you want to read other bits of what was meant to be pwp and has turned into a nothing hurts, post-s4 epic with a rebekah-centric prequel, the order it occurs is:

this week's

then this

this

this one

then this

and finally this

probably. it's probably that order. idk. insomnia is a thing that is happening again.

The mansion was dark when she pulled up. Even the exterior lights were out. Not that she was surprised. Klaus rarely turned them on unless he was expecting human company. 

Say you're a creature of the night without saying you're a creature of the night, she told him once. Why don't you go ahead and shout it? 

Klaus, she'd learned, went a little bit feral when he was at loose ends. He wasn't great at pretending to be human to begin with. Too many years of being too powerful, too wealthy, too Klaus to bother. It's not that he was rude to waitstaff or anything like that. He just didn't care about the little, everyday interactions that went along with being a person in a functioning society. He'd told her story after story about interesting things that had happened around him in the years he'd been alive, but they rarely involved his own participation. The ones that did were usually about some sort of caper. Art he'd compelled into museums and collections under bland assumed names. The milder sorts of mischief he'd got up to with Kol or occasionally Elijah, to Caroline's surprise. He didn't tell many stories about Rebekah, and Caroline wasn't sure if that was a subtle, ingrained sexism, or because he was leaving Rebekah's stories to Rebekah. She wasn't quite the orator her brother was. Caroline learned that quickly. She'd been surprised by how quiet the other woman could be. Rebekah often needed prompting to share anything, but it was almost better that way. At least it was with her. Caroline was hesitant to admit how much she liked Klaus' tendency to be a little bit of a showoff. She wouldn't want to inflate his ego, of course, but it had been a little bit scary how much he entertained her, too. 

She let herself into the house the way she had dozens of times previously, even before she'd liked him, or could admit she did. It was inky dark inside, the light of the waning moon barely making a difference. She listened for him, trying to catch the sound of a paintbrush or the turning of pages, but the house was silent.

"Up here, sweetheart," he murmured after giving her a moment to try to puzzle it out herself. 

"Did you already go to bed?" Caroline triangulated his location and trotted upstairs, her heels clicking against the ostentatious staircase. Rebekah's heels, technically, but she had a habit of buying things, deciding she didn't like them after all, and passing them off to Caroline without worrying about having spent $1200 on a pair of strappy stilettos that didn't suit her. "I know you're old, but that's pretty boring."

"Says the young woman who abandoned her evening plans to drive an hour in order to find this old man."

She wandered the dim hallways upstairs, letting herself get a little bit distracted by the artwork lining the walls. There was too much to ever really take in at once, and Klaus often manifested new pieces, seemingly out of nowhere. Some were from online auctions, he'd explained warily, once, waiting for her to snap at him, and then, when he realized she was genuinely curious, went into more detail as time went on. He had climate controlled storage facilities nearly everywhere in the world, some for his whole family, but many secret ones only he knew about. With Mikael dead and Klaus more or less on tolerable terms with the residents of Mystic Falls, he'd started sending for more of his favorites. Rebekah's, too, though he'd need a personality transplant to get him to admit to doing something nice specifically for her.

And there were some he'd either bought or brought in, because he'd thought Caroline would like them and was trying to get a more precise sense of her taste. He never pointed them out, but always seemed to know which ones she lingered over the most. While her taste in paintings was, in Rebekah's assessment, pretty, but obvious, they'd both been surprised by how often Caroline found herself in the solarium, staring at a sculpture by Tony Cragg. Klaus had smiled knowingly, though, and explained that Cragg used mathematical formulas as the basis of his art. No matter how haphazard they might seem, there was precision in his work some people responded to without knowing why.

Caroline was pretty sure Klaus had switched out a few paintings near the top of the stairs. She'd have to ask later. He always seemed so pleased when she noticed, and she was planning on taking Art History next semester, anyway. The acting class she'd thought would be fun was a mix of uninspiring and irritating, and she'd shuffled a theater major into the probably not column.

The room with northern exposure Klaus used as his atelier was dark, so she turned the corner and found light diffusing into the darkness from his bedroom. He was stretched out on the settee shoved in one corner, directly across from the open balcony doors. The late summer heat had eased enough that the breeze coming in was a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the room. She could feel the humidity in the air from the shower he'd just taken in the en suite. He'd only bothered putting on a pair of dark pajama pants, and his hair, which had been well into unkempt territory the last time she saw him and was now on the verge of shaggy, was still damp enough to curl into incredibly unfair, glossy ringlets. When left to its own devices, her own formed into an ill-behaved mass of cowlicks and loose waves, with the occasional sproingy curl poking out at random.

Caroline had worn a dress she'd bought at a boutique near Whitmore that afternoon with Rebekah. They'd arranged their schedules to always have Fridays off and had used the past few weeks to explore the surrounding area. The boutique and nearby coffee shop and bakery had become a favorite of theirs. The clothes were cute, college age appropriate, and weren't so expensive that they made Caroline uncomfortably reconsider the application of compulsion in retail settings. The café made a mean raspberry mocha and had tiramisu brownies that never failed to improve her mood.

It was a great dress. She'd decided the night called for breaking the golden rule of fashion and bought something sassy that showcased both leg and cleavage. It had worked at the bar. She hadn't paid for a single drink all night, but Klaus barely allowed a flicker downward before he returned his eyes to hers, lifting his glass of probably bourbon--it was never not bourbon, unless it was wine or champagne--to his mouth.

"Do you still want to fuck me or what?" she said too loudly, even with the ambient racket of crickets outside trying to pick up someone, too.

Klaus shot into a more upright position, making a choked, heaving sound, and coughed like he was playing Beth in a community theater production of Little Women.

[ferindencadash]

This is so cool to know and very useful! But also, write what makes YOU happy!!

Also, I really like "slit" and will continue to use it. :P

To all my writers who have a tough time with smut terms and not knowing which ones to use, I have found the holy grail for us.

This reddit user took a poll of 3,500 people and went really in depth with asking their favorite terminology, along with actual pie charts on what the readers preferred to see in their smut.

Here's the direct link to the Google doc with all the info!

[teamdilf]

In honour of a recent reblog: Solas being the subbiest sub ever:

“Good boy.” She begins riding him slowly, grabbing his hand and bringing it to her breast, and he toys with the ring in her nipple, giving it a gentle tug.

“You do realize some view me as a deity and you just told me I’m a ‘good boy’?”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re pondering the virtues of the pleasure I’m giving you with my cunt, love.” She stops, smirking at him, her eyebrow raised.

“I’ll be good,” he says, voice strangled. “Please don’t stop.”

[rottingbibliophile]

Society wanted things to be labeled, to fit into neat and tidy boxes. Sex was meant to be exclusive, romantic, and flawless. Friends were only friends and never lovers, nothing could grow or change. Who you used to be could never be separated from who you've become.

Harley Laroux, Losers: Part I

[etheral-moon]

Books don't need smut to be good.

[call-2-arms]

Sornin x Halsin

[apostate-in-an-alcove]

People on BookTok will unironically diagnose every woman who reads smutty books with a porn addiction and call everyone who disagrees with their puritanical standards for books a gooner and then pat themselves on the back for being so moral and enlightened as if they're actually going to achieve anything of substance by doing this.

[diazsdimples]

Oh god the guy I'm talking to on Tinder just asked what kind of writing I do. Idk how to say fanfiction without him running a mile 😫