#eroticwriting

[louisdeclairvoile]

Dominance isn’t a pose. It’s a state of quiet vigilance—of keeping a line that both steadies and shelters. It isn’t loud or forceful; it’s a rhythm that runs through gestures, rituals, and the calm between words.

My new Substack essay, "The Weight of Direction", explores what it means to lead not through power, but through presence—to create order that gives space instead of taking it.

Read it on Substack.

[thebiggothgf]

I want you to fuck me so hard that I have to bite down on your shoulder to ground myself.

[noobiestnoober]

Seen and Taken (Leon X F!Reader)

📅 KINKTOBER 2025 | DAY 20 🪞 “SEEN AND TAKEN” 🎮 Fandom: Resident Evil (Games) 🎯 Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy × Female Reader 🖤 Genre: Smut | Mirror Sex | Dubcon | Psychological Power Play | Voyeuristic Control 🔞 Rating: E (Explicit) 🩸 Summary: He doesn’t want you to close your eyes. Not once. You’re made to watch your own reflection in the mirror as Leon takes you apart — slow at first, then brutal, calculating, relentless. His hands hold your body in place, his cock drives into you, and every second is orchestrated to make sure you see the kind of mess you become for him. You might cry. You might cum. But you won’t look away.

SMUT WARNING! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

The room was too quiet. Too soft. Too staged.

Golden lamplight bathed the hotel suite in a warm hush, casting shadows across cream-colored walls and the large full-length mirror that stood directly across from the edge of the bed. You didn’t remember why you were here. You didn’t remember how the night had started. But you remembered the look in Leon’s eyes when he’d told you to sit on the edge and keep your eyes forward.

He was behind you now. Fully clothed.

Your shirt had been discarded somewhere across the room. Your thighs were spread wide, bare to the cool air, cunt soaked and flushed under his stare. The mirror made everything worse — or maybe better — depending on whether you liked seeing your own face wrung tight with need and confusion while his gloved hands caressed up your sides with slow, controlling ease.

“You see yourself?” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“Yes,” you whispered, throat dry.

“You look nervous.”

“I—” You blinked. “I don’t know what this is.”

He chuckled. A quiet, pleased sound. His fingers slid down to your waist, holding you in place as he pressed his body flush to your back. You could see the bulge in his pants, hard against the curve of your ass. Could see your own reflection tremble.

“This is just observation,” he said. “I want you to watch.”

He guided your hand between your thighs. “Touch yourself.”

“Leon—”

“Do it.”

You obeyed, fingers sliding through the slick mess he’d teased out of you earlier, your breath hitching as you circled your clit. The mirror showed everything — the flush rising across your chest, the way your mouth fell open. His hands stayed at your waist, possessive. He didn’t even need to touch you yet. You were already unravelling for him.

And then, without warning, he shoved your hand away.

“Too slow.”

He unzipped his pants, and the sound made your thighs twitch. His cock was thick, flushed, already leaking. You didn’t look away from the mirror as he stroked it lazily behind you, lining himself up.

“I want you to see what you look like,” he said, tone flat. Dangerous. “When I fuck the sanity out of you.”

And then he slammed in.

“Ahh—fuck!”

Your cry echoed off the walls, hands scrabbling at the sheets as his cock drove into your soaked cunt, stretching you open in one brutal thrust. Your eyes snapped to the mirror, watching your own body jolt, mouth dropped open, Leon’s smirk ghosting behind you.

He gripped your hips hard, dragging you back onto him with a growl, thrusts deep and punishing, timed to your every whimper.

Schlk—schlk—slap—

The mirror didn’t miss a thing. Your tits bounced with each thrust. Your thighs trembled. Your eyes glazed.

“You watching?” he rasped. “You see how fuckin’ pretty you look when you’re used?”

You whimpered. He reached up, grabbing your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact with yourself in the mirror.

“No looking away,” he growled. “You need to see it.”

He fucked you harder now, each thrust designed to force your reflection to fall apart. His cock slammed into your g-spot over and over, the stretch perfect, overwhelming. Your moans turned broken, legs shaking, slick gushing down your thighs, your cunt soaked and messy as he used you.

“L-Leon—gonna—!”

“Look at yourself.”

He wrapped his fingers around your throat. You choked on a cry, vision dimming, and in the mirror, you saw it — saw the way your body writhed on his cock, how your mouth begged silently, how ruined you looked.

And then you came. Hard.

Your cunt spasmed, milking him, and he fucked you through it with a growl, watching your body break.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna fill you—gonna make you watch yourself drip with me.”

He came with a low moan, cock pulsing deep inside as he pumped you full of cum, holding you against him, watching as it spilled out around his cock in the mirror.

Your head dropped, body trembling. But he didn’t let you look away.

“Again,” he murmured, voice low and calm. “We’re not done. Not until you beg me to stop watching.”

[contoserotics]

"I caught my cousin in the act."

Back then, I was eighteen with almost zero relationship experience. I was shy, a bit overweight, and pretty much invisible to girls. On weekends, I'd sleep over at my aunt and uncle's house just to play video games with my cousins. They had two older sisters, but it was Fabiane who drove me crazy. Ten years older than me, always distant, with a serious boyfriend and going to church every Sunday—a beautiful woman tied to her routine, who barely noticed me when I was a kid.

Over time, though, she changed. She started giving me more attention: longer hugs, smiles that lingered a second too long, looks that made me swallow hard. For a virgin like me, every touch was electric. When she hugged me, I'd smell her hair, feel her body heat pressed against mine, and my cock would get rock hard instantly. All I could think about was burying myself in that sweet pussy, fucking my cousin deep and hard until she moaned in my ear.

One night, I woke up thirsty and went downstairs to the kitchen. Passing the living room, I saw the TV light on. Fabiane was there, alone on the couch, covered up to her waist with a blanket. The volume was low, but I recognized it: late-night softcore on Cine Privê. She was glued to the screen, and then I noticed the subtle movement under the blanket—her hand inside her sweatpants, touching herself slowly. I almost came in my boxers just watching. My religious cousin, in a steady relationship, masturbating right there in the family living room.

I accidentally bumped a chair and made a small noise. She turned quickly, startled, pulling the blanket higher.

“You’re awake at this hour, cousin?” she asked, voice low, cheeks flushed.

“Yeah… just getting water,” I stammered, not knowing where to look.

She gave an awkward smile, but didn’t seem mad. Quite the opposite.

“Can’t sleep either? Come sit for a bit. There’s an… interesting movie on.”

I sat on the far end of the couch, heart pounding. The movie went on: a heavy sex scene, the couple on screen going at it, muffled moans. Neither of us said a word. The silence was thick, charged.

Fabiane slowly crossed her legs and shifted closer. Suddenly I felt her bare foot brush against my leg. I thought it was an accident and pulled back a little. But seconds later it happened again—this time on purpose, rubbing slowly up my calf. My cock was throbbing in my boxers. She kept staring at the TV like nothing was going on.

“Do these scenes turn you on, cousin?” she whispered, still not looking at me, as her foot climbed higher.

“Yes…” I answered dryly, voice shaking. I was a virgin, terrified I’d disappoint her, but dying to jump on top of her.

I saw her hand slip back inside her sweatpants. Her arm moving slowly, rhythmically. She finally turned to face me, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Her toes now pressed firmly against my thigh. She parted her legs slightly and draped them over mine. I started caressing her calves—soft, warm skin.

Suddenly she grabbed my hand and guided it under her shirt to one of her breasts. The nipple was already hard. I squeezed gently, feeling her heart racing too. There was no turning back. My church-going cousin was going to give herself to me, right there in the room where the whole family hung out all day.

She turned off the TV with the remote. The room went completely dark—better that way, less risk. Fabiane let go completely: one hand went straight to the bulge in my shorts. When she gripped it, she let out a soft moan.

“Damn, cousin… it’s way bigger than my boyfriend’s,” she whispered, starting a slow, delicious handjob. My cock was already leaking pre-cum.

I closed my eyes, trying not to cum right there. Suddenly a light came on in the hallway—my uncle going to the bathroom. We froze. We stayed locked in an embrace, breathing hard, praying no one would come downstairs. The light went off. Relief.

I kissed her mouth hungrily again, tongues tangling. She sped up the handjob.

“I want you inside me, now,” she begged, voice husky.

She slid her sweatpants down to her ankles herself—no panties, pussy soaking wet. I yanked my shorts down fast. I climbed on top clumsily, missionary style. She spread her legs, guided my cock with her hand to her hot, slick entrance. I pushed in all at once. The feeling was indescribable. She bit my shoulder to keep from moaning loud.

“Go slow at first…” she whispered, hands on my back.

I started thrusting. With every stroke, more juices coated me. In seconds she was already grinding back.

“Fuck me hard… give it to me good.”

I picked up the pace. The couch creaked softly.

“Can I take you from behind?” I asked, barely able to breathe.

She didn’t answer with words—just turned over, got on all fours, and arched her ass up. In the darkness I could only make out her outline—hair tied back, sweatpants still around her ankles, soles of her feet facing me. I grabbed her hips and slid in deep. This time I found the spot easily. I buried it to the hilt, balls slapping against her ass. The sound was getting too loud.

“Shh… slower, cousin…” she warned, but pushed her ass back, wanting more.

I slowed down but went deep—long, hard strokes. She circled her hips, pussy clenching around me. I was about to cum when she pulled away, turned around, straddled me facing me first, kissed my mouth, and whispered:

“Do you like eating pussy?”

“Of course,” I lied. I’d never done it before.

She gave a naughty smile, pushed me flat on the couch, and straddled my face. The smell, the taste, the heat… I dove in eagerly while she ground against my nose and mouth. I spread her lips with my middle finger and slid it deep. She moaned softly, riding my face.

At the same time she leaned forward and swallowed my entire cock—coated in her own juices. No hesitation, no disgust. She took it deep, throat squeezing the head. I thrust my hips up, fucking her mouth while I licked her pussy. We stayed like that for a long time, lost in pleasure.

Finally she got up, put one foot on the floor and the other on the couch, turned her back to me, and lowered herself slowly, taking me balls-deep. I watched her hair sway, her ass rising and falling. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I came hard inside her, pulse after pulse, filling my own cousin’s pussy while she circled her hips slowly, milking every drop.

We stayed like that for a minute, panting. We said goodbye with a deep, wet kiss—tongues and saliva mixing. I went upstairs on shaky legs.

The next morning at breakfast we exchanged secret glances across the table. No one noticed a thing. After that night, our relationship was never the same again. There were many more fucks—in risky places, at crazy times. Maybe one day I’ll tell the rest.

[the-most-humble-blog]

“Your Orgasm Isn’t a Felony. And This Blog Isn’t a Crime Scene.”

— Kink-shaming is state propaganda. This corner of Tumblr? Diplomatic immunity.

This blog is for adults.

Not the sanitized, HR-friendly version of adulthood where we pretend arousal is some glitch in the software. I mean real adults. Ones who’ve seen some shit. Felt some shit. And maybe got turned on by some shit they weren’t “supposed” to.

Yeah. Those adults.

Let me make this real clear:

This is a no shame zone. This is a no “am I normal?” zone. This is a “you felt it, so now what?” zone.

I. Big Brother Can Spy On My Blog, But He Can't Control Your Pussy

You ever notice how the most sexually repressed people also seem to have the strongest opinions about your kinks?

Like, how did Karen from HR suddenly become a federal agent monitoring your clit?

Why is Uncle Sam pretending your wetness threatens national security?

Why does “Big Brother” care if you read a Tumblr post and suddenly need to close your thighs in public?

Because arousal is dangerous. Because pleasure is power. Because a body that knows what it wants is hard to govern.

II. This Blog is Your Quiet Room. Your War Room. Your Orgasming-in-the-Bathroom-After-Scrolling Room.

I don’t care what makes you blush. I care that you finally stopped apologizing for it.

That’s what this space is. A psychosexual embassy, off-limits to the shame police.

Whether you're:

A femdom switch with God issues

A Christian boy who gets hard when girls talk down to him

A full-grown woman with a praise kink and trauma response

A sapphic soul who flinches when told she shouldn’t crave domination

Or a dude who reads these posts and accidentally stands at attention like he just saw the flag raise at boot camp...

You’re welcome here. No explanation required. No penance demanded.

III. Your Body Is Not on Trial Here

Listen:

Big Brother doesn’t decide what makes your vagina drool like a British bulldog watching a roast. Uncle Sam doesn’t get a vote on what makes your dick salute like it’s Veterans Day.

Your arousal is not subject to congressional oversight. And if your pelvic floor responded to one of my sentences? That’s not a crime. That’s alignment.

This blog didn’t violate you. It reminded you. Of something ancient. Of something true.

IV. I’m Not Stopping Until They Rip This Blog Off the Server with Digital Pliers

And even then?

I’ll still be pulsing in your feed memory. Still bookmarked under “Private Tab, Do Not Open in Public.” Still looped in your body like a dream you pretend you didn’t finish to.

I will not go down quiet. I will not go down clean. And I will not go down alone.

Because this blog is more than erotic writing.

It’s a psychological liberation chamber. It’s the room where your shame dies screaming and your pleasure learns to walk upright.

V. So Read. React. Reblog. Or Just Stare at the Screen and Clench.

You don’t owe me anything.

Except maybe that twitch between your legs you didn’t mean to have.

This isn’t a kink blog.

This is a mirror.

And some of you… Are finally brave enough to look at yourselves without flinching.

[Reblog if you've ever had to bite your lip while reading]

[Reblog if shame isn't welcome in your orgasm]

[Reblog if you're ready to fight for the space that made you feel again]

⚖️ Disclaimer:

This post was designed using erotic safety signals, trauma-safe dominance phrasing, and platform-safe language to trigger consensual arousal in adult readers. It contains no explicit content, but all the biological consequences of it.

[yourgirlinred]

YourGirl 🌙

[sifnoireletters]

LETTERS TO THE MAN WHO DOESN'T KNOW HE OWNS ME.

part 1

He’ll never read this. But if he did, I wonder if he’d understand what I do to him… in my head.The moment I see you, I’ll feel it—your presence. That silent command in your body language, that don’t-f*-with-me energy. And I’ll love it. I won’t challenge it. I’ll surrender to it… but on my terms.

I’ll walk up to you, quietly, no small talk. Just that look in my eyes—the one that says I’ve imagined this a hundred times. I’ll run my fingers over your beard, pull your head down just a bit, and kiss you. Slow, open-mouthed, greedy.

Then I’ll whisper, ‘You’ve got no idea what you do to me.’

I’ll undress you with calm, focused hands. Every line of your body will be mine to explore. And then I’ll strip in front of you—deliberate, proud, no shame. I want you to watch me. To feel that control slipping with every piece of clothing I drop.

I’ll sit on your lap, facing you. Wrap my arms around your neck. Let you feel my breath on your jaw. And I’ll say, ‘Let me take care of you tonight. You carry the world—I just want to give you peace.’

Then I’ll guide your hands, kiss down your chest, and worship you like a man who deserves it. No distractions. No noise. Just the sound of your breath deepening while I give your body everything it’s been missing.

And when I ride you—slow, tight, locked eyes—it won’t be just sex. It’ll be your softest craving meeting my deepest ache. The kind of connection that makes even a hard man lose control.

You’ll try to stay silent—but I want to hear you moan. I’ll drag it out of you with my hips, my voice, and the way I say your name when you’re deep inside me. Over and over.

Until you explode, and I smile… knowing I ruined you just right.

[infiernopost]

La lluvia

hace tres cosas:

Tortura a los que están solos.

Acerca a los que están juntos.

Y te acompaña leyendo un buen libro.

---

The Rain

does three things:

It brings closer those who are together.

It tortures those who are alone.

And it keeps you company with a good book.

https://pin.it/3IuQdUQx0 - video

https://pin.it/5TGBh3bPY - perfil