I (Yasmine) wouldn’t be opposed to coming back if everyone keeps their chill this time around. Wrapping up law school so, I’ll have some time between graduation and being barred but I also want to be sure people still want this blog and it’s stories. It’s up to you all! Let me know and I’ll talk to Xo.
How's school going for y'all? Work? Life in general?
Xo is living the grad student life. She says she loves it because her life of eating top ramen and lunchables is not yet over. Law school isn’t easy or letting up, I cried in the middle of making pasta the other night because I remembered I passed a quiz I thought I bombed. We’re tired, we’re broke, we’re getting by getting guys to buy us drinks at bars and ditching them after. It blows but we’re still happy regardless. Winter break isn’t far so fics should be coming sooner than they are now but yeah, it’s lit. Thanks for asking!
so rami won last night and it brought out some inspire works. this is the first fic we’re posting in months. well, the first one out of a few we’ve got pending. we want to ease our way back into things. we’re a little rusty. so this is short, sweet, and to the point kind of? anyway, back for our not so triumphant return. i’m sure there are typos but i’ve got to head off to work and i don’t have time to revise right now. i’m sorry!
enjoy!
word count: 1,571
It starts off with a simple kiss. That’s how it always starts. You stumble through the front door of his house with laughter and pride as he holds you close to his side, the envelope holding his name in his free hand. It’s been a long night filled with people you never in a million years thought you’d brush shoulders with, expensive food and drinks, and lots of dancing, but you’re happy to be there with the man you love to celebrate his big win.
It’s well-deserved and a long time coming. It almost doesn’t surprise you when his name comes blaring through the theatre speakers but you can’t forget the look of shock that consumes him. He’s always so humble and unaware of his talent but you’ve always believed in him, stood by him, and reminded him that’s worth it. He’s the one in more ways than one.
Now you’re back at his home, kicking off shoes and popping open a fresh bottle of champagne. The celebration is far from over but at least it’s just the two of you now. You don’t have to worry about someone coming to steal him away or cut into your moments to praise him. And it’s not like you ever mind when it happens. It’s just nice when it’s the two of you, alone and acting silly, loving each other unapologetically.
His arm snakes its way around your waist and your champagne flute taps against his as it bubbles and pops with the fizzing liquid.
“Fisehatak.” You both giggle around the glass and sip happily as you sway to the music swirling around you. It’s an unskilled two step that makes you cling onto each other for dear life, your expose skin brushing against his expensive suit, far from delicate or pretty. Still, you’ve fallen in love with this alone.
His forehead presses itself against yours with eyes closed. He’s happy, it’s radiating off of him, and you can’t help but bask in it. His happiness only makes yours grow. Maybe it’s selfish but you can’t help it. You never could. You love him too much not to want to share it with each other.
The way his lips brush against yours could be missed by anyone else but you. They’re soft and wet with champagne but you latch on before they can get too far. Again, maybe it’s selfish but it feels right. It’s a slow and simple kiss at first, lips hardly touching and bodies holding still for just a second. Then his fingers press themselves into the fabric of your dress and your breathing hitches because suddenly, it’s not just a kiss.
You stumble backwards towards the couch, drinks hardly landing safely against the coffee table, before you both fall against the cushions to kiss like desperate fools. You climb his lap and shiver when his hands claim your waist with a hold that makes you think he never wants to let go. You could get drunk off of his kisses alone but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Rami’s fingers find the zipper of your dress and pull down so that the material falls free from your shoulders and gives him more skin to kiss. All you can do is focus on the soft lights dancing against the ceiling and the moans leaving his lips as he peppers you in open mouthed kisses.
Shaky fingers unbutton his dress shirt and push his tuxedo jacket off of his shoulders with it. There bite marks and hickies from nights before hidden beneath the expensive suit and you’re proud. That’s all you. He’s all yours. If fashion bloggers and entertainment news outlets really knew what was under all of that, they’d have a field day. But they were your marks just for him and they always would be. You work against leaving him a fresh one, right against his collar bone while he kisses against your jawline selfishly and turns to press your back against the cushions.
You help him and kick off the rest of your dress, head falling back over the edge of the back of the couch, while his lips move from jawline to shoulders and work their way against every bit of flesh he can manage. His fingers loop themselves through the expensive lingerie you bought and tug until the material falls around your ankles. Then he kisses against your thighs and brushes his thumb over your clit in the most teasing way possible. A gasp gets stuck somewhere in your throat and you feel the vibration of his smug laugh bounce off of your skin. He’s always been a tease but always knows how to satisfy.
Teeth nip against the skin of your inner thigh while a tongue swipes against the marks and moves to taste your clit without much warning. It’s brief and quick. The first lick always is. His wide eyes flicker up to meet your hooded expression and you suck in a breath. It’s almost like he’s warning you everything is going downhill from there and you can’t find the will to care or stop him. You’ve wanted this all night, you just weren’t aware how desperately you needed it. He was. He always was.
His tongue swipes again, slower that time, and with more care, swirling around the bundle of nerves and making your fingers bury themselves in his perfectly kempt hair. You can feel his finger teasing its way in, sliding in and out slowly to almost mock you. It’s too much and still, not enough. You can’t help that your hips buckle to get more friction. His free hand pushed them back before both arms grab your legs and throw them over his shoulders, pulling you close to the edge of the couch. He sucks against your click unapologetically and moans when you pull against his hair, licking up and down your slit like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. You’re addicted to this feeling of wholeness. It’s like an out of body experience and you don’t ever want it to stop.
And then he stops. He knows when he’s got you right at that edge, right when you see stars and planets forming through the darkness and you want to scream. He kisses his way back up to your lips, stopping to bite through the fabric of your bra and leave a mark against your neck.
“Turn around.” His voice is nothing but a harsh whisper that shakes you to the core. You follow instructions and turn to rest on your knees against the couch, hands gripping the edge with anticipation. All you hear is his fumbling mess as he slides out of his dress pants and boxers. Then you feel the tip teasing you slowly, hardly pushing in but still coaxing a moan from your lips. You almost want to throw yourself back at him but you know by the way his fingers bury themselves in your hair and wrap your locks around his wrist, it’s better to wait.
He thrusts in you with patience, fingers digging in feverishly at your hip bone and soft moans leaving his perfect lips as he buries himself inside of you. You can come off of that alone. He sounds like an angelic choir even through sex and you hate him. You want to be with him forever.
“Are you proud of me?” He asks as he bends down to kiss beneath your ear and bite your neck swiftly. The thrusts never stop or lessen up. It’s the same pace of skin slapping against skin and you coming undone.
“So proud.” You whisper back and move to swivel your hips around him as if your words aren’t enough to show him. That earn you a groan and a slap to the ass. You stifle a moan and pick up his pace, matching thrusts with pushes and scratching down the back of the couch like some rabid animal.
His hand finds its way from your hip to your clit, fingers working against it slowly to send you over the edge as he picks up speed and hovers over you. He’s whispering in your ear, begging you to come for him, to really show him how proud you are of all the hard work he puts in both on and off screen and you can’t help but scream and moan his name. He’s magic personified. You’re convinced as you hit your peak and see bursts of color erupt everywhere your eyes land on.
“Good girl,” he praises as if you’re the star of the show. “You’re such a good girl.”
Rami keeps the pace until moans right into the shell of your ear as you move with him. It’s enough to welcome a second orgasm and leave your bones a jell-o like mess. He comes with a groan and kisses down your spine before falling back against the couch and closing his eyes.
Neither of you move for what feels like hours, just stay still and listen to the music you never bothered to shut off. Then you fall beside him and take a deep breath, eyes moving to land on him with a grin that he shares happily with you.
“Emmy Award-Winning Rami Said Malek.” You murmur as you rest your head against his shoulder. His arm finds its way around you and a bright smile plagues his beautiful face. “You’re my star.”
Hey! I own a writing blog and I had a smut request, I am very pleased huh.... But I don't know how to write a smut :/ do you have any tips in smut writing?
Lord, get ya notebooks out folks because y’all are gonna have to doodle while I pretend I know what I’m talking about. First and foremost, I believe the legal age in the US of A to write smut is 18, so if you’re not from here, check your laws because I don’t want you or anyone else getting into trouble. The thing with smut is, it can be really raunchy and tasteless or really graphic and still a classic. It’s all in the way it’s worded. Take Fifty Shades for example. It’s constantly made fun of because of the words this woman used to describe homegirl’s pleasure and god knows what else. She straight calls her vagina her "sex” or “down there”...ummm....what? If you’re gonna talk about it, be about it, but also be an adult about it. I don’t know a single adult that does that and it’s so not a turn on for me. Learn the lingo if you’re not familiar with it. When I write smut, I just kind of put myself in a situation and think of what I would like to go down in said situation. You can be totally vanilla about it and have it be beautiful and just sweet lovemaking or you can be as dirty as you want and go the fuck off. Both styles can have the same impact. It’s also okay to not know what you’re doing like at all. The best sex is often the ones filled with giggling and laughter because someone does something silly in the middle of it. You can fill gaps you think are awkward in your smut with instances like that because it’s totally realistic and it happens all the time. Also, this mindset of you have to have had sex to write good smut is beyond me and I have no idea where it came from. I started writing smut way before I started having sex and not to toot my own horn, but I’ve always been pretty good at it. It’s all in ones imagination. Does watching porn help? My honest opinion? No. Porn is often like this big fantasy wrapped into a tight ball and thrown around to get people (mostly straight cis men) off. It’s far from realistic. There is some realistic porn out there that you can use as reference but only if you’re comfortable.
In short, write what you’re comfortable with, use as much detail as possible, and just have fun with it! (P.S.: music helps a lot!)
ahhh how are you all such fantastic writers!!! lots of detail and the mood is described so perfectly! i was wondering if any if you have any tips on writing? :)
Thank you so much! Tips? Jeez, I’m honestly not sure what I would even suggest. Always be comfortable with what your writing. Keep writing, no matter the typos because you can go back and editing what you need to edit after. The point is to get what you want to say out before it escapes you. Don’t be afraid to try new methods. I know for a fact Xo writes her stories outside of tumblr out of order, so let’s say she gets a moment of inspiration for something she sees in the middle of the book. She’ll stop what she’s doing and immediately write that out. When she’s ready, she’ll piece everything together. It’s not the most conventional method but it’s also not new at all and she knows more writers who do it but it’s something I personally have never done. It’s always nice to go back and reread your favorite piece of literature and just refresh your mind. You’d be surprised how many endless nights of writer’s block a good book has pulled me out of. And always, always, ALWAYS, have a good playlist to push you through. I can’t write anything without a good playlist. It’s just impossible. Hope this helps!
baratheonpilled
theartofmadeline
ellievsbear
turnnoffyourmind
kaledo-art
janainaart
snowghoul