#smutty lines

[caramelcleopatraa]

MORE SMUTTY LINES IVE COLLECTED FROM READING TOO MUCH DAMN SMUT (pt. 3)

So, I haven't been on Tumblr really besides some reblogs and all that jazz. But I found a note in my laptop that I created with lines that i've read from fanfics or heard in audios that legit dropped my jaw. Sooo I thought, why not visit an old tradition and share some of the lines i've found since my last "smutty line collection"

credit goes to the authors who wrote these lines

~ 💋

My favorite smutty lines that I’ve collected from reading too much damn smut (and made my jaw drop to the core of the earth)

MORE SMUTTY LINES IVE COLLECTED FROM READING TOO MUCH DAMN SMUT (pt. 2)

"Since this dick belongs to you, you gon take it like it belongs to you."

"That's right my sweet girl, nut for daddy. Mmm, you love when I snatch your soul and make you look at me while I do it, huh baby?.." 

"Tell daddy how much you love when I fuck you like this..when I look you in the eyes while I hit that spot."

“Nuh-uh, baby, open those eyes,” he mumbled into her ear. “Need to see those pretty eyes when I nut in this pussy.”

“So, you like the grays in my beard mama?! It makes you wanna sit on my face? You wanna see your sweet juices drenched all over my beard?” 

“Yeeaa, you talkin’ all dat shit, but you know Daddy knows every inch of his pussy and you love it,”

“Mmhm, you see it don’t you? You love to see all dat good, good, drippin’ from Daddy’s lips and beard, don’t you?”

“If I’m the reason that you’re wet, then I’ll be the reason you’ll cum”

"Runnin' ain't gon do nothin’ but make me wanna go deeper.."

“I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"You really don't want me playin' in this pussy all day, baby?"

“This dick feel good, baby? That why your pussy makin’ all that noise? Drippin’ for Daddy like a good little slut?“

🏷️ tags :) @hunnidmilly @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce

@theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen

@alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae

@fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2 @murrylove

@sassginaswanmills @pixiedust4000

@shes2real @pittieprincess22 @wrestlingprincess80

@msbigredmachine @sayyestoheav3nn @trippinsorrows @mzv11

@saintmagx @jstarr86 @pr3ttiesz @trentybenty @romansthrone

@scarlettnoir01 @tshepisho @rose-bliss @yana3sworld

@queeny23 @bebesobrielo @heauxvibez @amandairene88

@potatosackk

[dickaspointed]

𝑬𝑵- 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑻𝑶 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑱𝑬𝑾𝑬𝑹𝑳𝒀 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑰𝑹 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑺 𝑶𝑵 𝑰𝑻

hyung line

𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 , 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝘺'𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ����𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 , 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴

HEESEUNG always loved playing with your legs, they were hairless, soft and smelled really good. as his fingers were doing their daily skim up and down your plush skin, his fingers got caught around little gold letters that hugged your ankle tightly. his eyes dropped from his phone, using his index to pick up the small piece of jewelry to inspect it properly. obviously caught off guard from your leg being yanked so suddenly, you laughed nervously, lowering your own phone to watch his antics.

“what is this?” Heeseung asked, rotating it around your ankle.

“i got a custom anklet with your name, cute right? it was on sale—”

you barely made it off the couch alive, your legs were thrown over Heeseung’s shoulders for hours. every gold letter of his name spinning around your ankle as he fucked you senseless into the soft cushions.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAY often rested his cheek on your full chest. whether you had a bra on or off, that was his favorite place to rest. your fingers would course through his dark hair, gently tugging at the ends as your free hand thumbed through your murder mystery book.

sometimes his boba brown eyes would look up through the valley of your breasts to ask a really stupid question just to hear himself talk, but this time something silver sparkled in his eyes. his fingers wrapped around the little silver letters, holding it up better for him to see. caught off guard, you lowered yourself to him, a frown crossing your lips.

“hey! this was not cheap,” you started, moving to lean away but he stopped you. “jayyyy, c’mon it’s getting to the good part—.”

Jay watched his silver letters bounce between your bare breasts, mesmerized by the contrast of dewy skin and hickies that surrounded the crystallized letters. you clung to him for dear life as you rode him, bouncing along to meet and match every thrust he was offering.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

JAKE loved your hands the most, even though he was constantly groping your ass or tits. he simply couldn’t deny that he loved the softness of your hands on his. after a long day of stress induced manual labor, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed besides you and have your sweet, soft hands caressing his bare back.

sticking true to his plan he showered and threw on a random pair of underwear, throwing himself into bed. his body nestled between your parted legs, sinking into your delicate smell. “i’ve missed youuuu~” he cooed, bracing his back for your soft touches that felt like little butterfly kisses.

he felt a strangely cold material scratch the surface of his skin making him stir a bit before turning to grab your wrist. dangling from your wrist was his name in golden letters, little gems decorating the top.

“you like? i got it today! the nice little ole’ lady helped me pick it out—“

Jake pressed your wrists into the mattress, kissing the cold, gold, metal into your skin as he repeatedly as he pistons in and out of you. both of you barely able to choke back pleasurable sounds that would only come from a porno scene.

̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ㅤ ওㅤㅤֺㅤ ⠀⠀✧ ⠀ ㅤֺㅤ ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙

SUNGHOON lazed into your shared bedroom after a much needed shower, a white towel hung low on his slender hips, showing off his monumental happy trail. you were stretched out across the mattress, scrolling through whatever new videos were trending.

once your boyfriend was dressed in boxers, he happily joined you in bed, reaching over to pull you into his muscled up arms. you rested with your cheek against his pec, holding your phone steady with one hand while the other caressed at his bare skin.

“what’s this?” he asked, guiding your free hand up to show off the ring that was wrapped around your ring finger. his initials in silver letters hugged your finger, the band was encrusted in cubic zirconia.

“i got it in the mail today! isn’t it purrrty—“

Sunghoon kissed your open hand numerous times whilst fucking your body down into the mattress before he intertwined your fingers with his. every now and then he’d turn your hand over to admire his little letters hugging your finger, letting it fuel him even more to fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked.

K BYEEEE !

[margauxmara]

A bunch of studies of Adar being mostly smooth and smirky

[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.”

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

Title: The Flame And The Moth

Pairing: Alex Turner/Jamie Cook

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Smut, angst, mildly kinky undertones, gratuitous descriptions of humbug era Alex, internalised homophobia, milex if you squint

Summary: In a hotel room after midnight, Jamie finds himself confronting unwanted desires.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

this has been in the works for AGES and i am so excited to finally share it! milex will (obviously) always have the top spot in my heart, but it was super fun writing this as a little low-stakes escapism and getting to explore a different type of dynamic. i'm honestly quite nervous about sharing it because it is definitely a change of tone from the stuff i've written before, but hopefully it works and anyone reading it will enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

any comments and feedback would mean the world 💜

[brain-rot-central]

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

[diazheartsbuckley]

🚨🚨🚨❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 📸 📸 📸⬇️⬇️⬇️

Hiya!

Previous snippet of 🚨 here

TW: Mentions of abuse

"What is this?" Eddie questions as Buck places a brown file in front of him, not even saying a word. Buck had barely spoken to him for the past week and Eddie knew that he was treading waters, that he had really messed this one up even if it had been with the best intentions. "Well, since you're so interested in putting your nose where it doesn't belong, open it and find out" "Buck, look, I'm sorry. I know that I shouldn't have-..." "Just read it. Or at least just look it through" Eddie flips through a few pages and soon concludes that it's Buck's medical record. There are x-rays, doctors' notes, and treatment plans that looks like they weren't followed. "I think this one is the most interesting" Buck stops Eddie from flipping and Eddie notes the date - a week before Buck was arrested for assault with a deadly weapon. "What is this?" Buck shifts from angry to nervous to visibly upset before he explains. "My biological father threw me out the window for being home five minutes past curfew, broke my wrist and forearm. So-..." Buck exhales sharply. "I decided that I had had enough and I tried to kill him"

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

"I uhm-... I'm sorry, lieutenant" "No, you're not, Buck. And we both know that you're only sorry because your friends aren't here to bail you out of trouble" Eddie grins, baring his canines and watches Buck faltering as he holds onto his wrist. "You're right. I'm not sorry" "That's better. So tell me, what are you gonna do to make it up to me?" Buck's cheeks become more and more red by the second as he places his hand on top of Eddie's half-hard cock and gives it a firm squeeze, biting his lip in anticipation. "Are you looking to get caught, probie?" Eddie questions lowly and Buck lets his hand ride down Eddie's inner thigh. "Fuck me in the bathroom" "Oh, you think that you can make demands?" Buck gulps and shakes his head a little. "Will you please fuck me, lieutenant? I deserve to be punished" "That's more like it. Be a good boy and go to the bathroom and wait for me"

📸📸📸📸

Find everything for this fic here

"You try telling that to whoever'll be reading our mission report. Everyone saw what happened out there. I failed my team and I failed you, Buck" Buck can't help but to notice that this is the first time that the sergeant doesn't use his full last name but rather the name that everyone knows him by. But it doesn't feel like the right time to point it out. "I'm okay, Eddie" Buck puts his hand gently on Eddie's shoulder, feeling it slowly ease up as he touches him and Eddie just nods slightly, smiling briefly. "I know. I just-..." "I'm okay. So is your team. Jackson will be okay too, you know?" "Okay. Thank you" "No need for 'thank you's', sergeant. We're all here for the same reason"

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Once Buck slots the key to his motel room into the lock, it beeps and clicks open and it quickly earns him a firm set of hands on his hips, almost pushing him inside. "You're that eager, huh?" Buck murmurs as he reaches backwards, his hand landing on the side of Eddie's stubbled jaw. "Hmm" Eddie spins him around in a shift move, his fingers effortlessly unbuttoning his shirt in front of Buck, exposing his chiseled and slightly sweaty chest. "Eager doesn't begin to cut it, darlin'" The Southern drawl in Eddie's voice making a clear appearance and Buck is pretty sure that he was to simply close his eyes and listen to Eddie talk to him, he'd be coming in his pants within minutes.

Make me write ✍🏻

[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

[rooks-leather-jumpsuit]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by the wonderful @caughtnyact to post the last line I wrote and tag someone else.

I'll tag @redheadsramblings and @guacamolleee with no obligation and apologies if this round already got you.

“Very good, darling. Now, I believe we are ready to depart.”

Incidentally this is the last line of the new chapter I just posted, if you wanted to read the whole thing.

[courtneydeservesbetter]

Fan fiction is wild cuz sometimes i absorb a line from a fic into my every day vernacular and I can’t explain to someone how it’s from a fic I read in 2012 so you just have to let them believe you’re really smart and came up with that on your own

[caramelcleopatraa]

My favorite smutty lines that I’ve collected from reading too much damn smut (and made my jaw drop to the core of the earth)

"Fuck mama your pussy is so fucking loud~"

“mhm you gonna take this dick like a good girl?” 

“Uh huh, daddy deep in his pussy ain’t he?”

“I like how you say my name, princess,”

“you like what you see? then touch it”

“you love the way daddy fucking you?”

“You throwing that ass back like a big girl, baby? You gon’ take this dick like one too.”

"I love it so much...that I'm gonna cum in this pussy, baby..."

"Mm-hmm, I love you too, baby. You gon' make me come all up in you, girl," 

“let’s see how much daddy’s pussy missed him”

"Mmm, quiet baby girl, my pussy's talkin' to me."

“And move that hand, you’re not slick..you’re getting all this dick. Show me you can handle it.” 

“Tell Daddy how that dick feel, baby, talk to me,”

Good lord this list is my favorite thing in the world right now. 😮‍💨

Had some free time, and I had this sitting in my notes, so I decided to post this :) hope everyone's had a good week so far 💙💜 working on 3 separate works right now! can't want to share them with you guys 💋

[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 a formatting editor and I’m volunteering. dm me and i’ll send you my email or you can send me a gdocs link.

[justagirlwithanoralfixation]

i need him to be my math teacher, maybe then i’ll pay attention

*teacher’s pet starts playing*

[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.

[five-and-dimes]

ಠ_ಠ ...

[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.