#smutty stuff

[domestically-loving-monsters]

I feel like writing smutty scenes while having brain-fog or low motivation is the same as your characters having drunk sex.

You have some idea of what's happening. It's all limbs and tongue and grinding, but is anything actually happening? No idea. But the vibe is there.

[domestikhighway58]

PizzaBoy Spencer! by the one and only @goobzoop

OMG I cannot describe the LOVE I am feeling right now. They inspired this silly fic I wrote and am continuing and UGH look at Spence! Wanna rub his fit lil belly, right?

Show You Tonight is on to Part 2 in Hold Me Closer for some fun, eventually sexy aftermath--cuz I always need to add some angst and drama in to my smut, no matter how silly it all is.

<3 THANK YOU GOOB ILY <3

[celestialspecial]

The Sin of Desire (Pt.6)

Werewolf!Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Violence, Graphic Descriptions, 18+ spicy themes, *be careful out there

Writers notes: Ya’ll hung in there and get a somewhat smutty chapter today XD Thank you to everyone who’s liked/reblogged/followed me, your encouragement and shares have blown me away <3

4 Months ago

The keys fell out of your hands with an obnoxious clattering on the floor, it was loud but you didn’t care. His mouth was too warm and inviting to think about anything else. Fingers fisted into his hair, gripping along the nape of his neck. You let out a low long groan, not giving a shit that it sounded whiny and needy. He adjusted his grip along the bottom of your thighs, holding you as close as possible to him, feeling the growing hardness in his pants pressing into you with as insistent a response as your whine.

You toed the key ring with your shoe, attempting to somehow lift them to get into your house without breaking the full body contact you were enjoying so thoroughly. A few attempts to no avail, had him laughing and placing you gently down to your feet so he could grab the keys and unlock your door for you.

Once inside all bets were off, he moved faster than you’d seen anyone move before and had you hoisted back into his arms and then ceremoniously placed onto the sofa in the front room. You squealed as he kissed along the inside of your legs, your dress riding up higher and higher with each touch. Your shoes had already been kicked off and he held both of your hands over your head against the pillows while his other hand slowly ran down the side of your body.

 When it reached the apex of your thighs you unconsciously bucked into the sensation. Billy grinned looking up at you, face partially covered by on of your knees that was still propped up. His eyes could be a warm brown in certain light, like coffee but now they were pitch black, you couldn’t see them but knew his pupils were blown wide and his heart had to be racing like yours to a rapid tattoo.

His hand swiveled down the last few inches and hovered over your writhing core, aching to arch into him, to remove any barrier to his touch, his body. “Shhh sweetheart, no need to rush. I’ve dreamt of having you like this for far too long to be over and done with so quickly.” You groaned again at his words, your mind fuzzy, the scent of him, masculine and strong rolled over you and you needed to taste him again. 

Moving to release your arms from his one hand to lean up and kiss him, “ah ah ah-“ He pressed firmly against them, pinning you down, as his mouth ghosted over your breast, nipple hardening under the dress, his lips continued their teasing journey to your clavicle , peppering soft placements over both sides and sucking on the space where your neck met your shoulders.

“It took everything in me not to do this to you that one day in the forest on our hike. Rip your clothes off, make you scream my name so loud it’d echo off the mountains for days.” He possessively kissed along your neck to your quickening pulse, tongue darting out to soften the areas there would most definitely be a mark left behind. He adjusted his legs and was settled between your thighs in the most tortuous of ways, the hardness of him grinding into you unbearably slow.

“Billy!” You exclaimed, hips rising to meet his, dying for more than this teasing, anything to quell the throbbing you felt growing with each second.

“Hmmm?” He lazily replied, sucking the bottom of your earlobe into his mouth, tongue tracing the shell of your ear before nuzzling his face back into your neck. Taking a deep inhale of you he moved back an iota of space and you swore his eyes flashed a vibrant yellow. “I’ve been having you run errands for me all week…” He spoke aloud, lifting your left leg up higher and resting the ankle on his shoulder. “Your legs must be, so very tired.”

 Placing a sinfully tender kiss to the inside of your ankle, his other hand finally releasing you so it could move and do the same to your right leg, this time letting his tongue lave along the inner corner of your knee. Resting your legs on his shoulders, ankles crossed, his deft hands drew up your thighs, finding the offending piece of lace they’d been searching for, pulling your panties down and off, laying them against the back cushions of the sofa, delicately.

Even though he physically wasn’t restraining your hands any longer they hadn’t moved, you were still leaning back, eyes wide, your heart ramming against your ribcage, half afraid it might spring free. His head lowered, eyes never leaving your face, your lips parted half wanting to say something but also far too afraid to. 

Your eyes nearly rolled back when you felt the hot trace of his breath over your center, tongue delving out to slip between your folds. He let out the most guttural groan that vibrated into your body, causing you to shake involuntarily. His mouth moved over you with precision, searching for every nerve ending that existed within you and setting it ablaze. Stroking, sucking, tasting.

Your hands fisted into his hair letting out a low moan of approval as he grunted back in response, setting a faster more punishing pace, lavishing the bundle of nerves between your legs with attention and wild abandon you didn’t know was possible. His hands gripped the sides of your dress, bunching it up higher, sinking deeper into you, feeling every movement of his tongue as it skillfully stroked the outside of you before it buried itself into your aching core.

You gasped half sitting up before his one hand gently pressed you down, hungry groans continued to escape his lips and the added pressure and sensation of his noises shot waves of pleasure through your body. The flat of his tongue ran over your clit and then lips wrapped and sucked, agonizingly, you could feel the release in your body building, the pot about to boil over. Your legs twitched and your hands gripped whatever they could reach, Billy’s hair, the fabric of his suit jacket, clawing at the stitching on the sofa. Your moans and whines reaching a higher pitch as you felt the dam about to break.

He felt it too and gripped you tighter, never ceasing or slowing down and then you saw stars and felt your body shuddering, quaking with the orgasm that had been building up for so long. Gasping and feeling like you were clinging for dear life as the sensations overtook you, Billy not letting up, milking every drop of your release from you until the shuddering slowed and your ragged breathing settled into a more calm rise and fall.

He pushed up onto his forearms, the wetness of you on his lips and the small scruff he had. His eyes were still shadowed but he grinned up at you, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he moved up towards you again. Hand snaking out to grab the underwear that he had placed for safekeeping on the side, he hovered over you, looking at the scrap of fabric, you hadn’t realized just how soaked though they had become from your little make out session on the porch, and if you were being honest with yourself they had probably been goners since dinner when he’d rested a warm palm on your bare knee. He deftly folded the cloth and slipped it into his pants pocket.

 “I think these...are mine now.” He smirked at you, before placing a heated kiss to your mouth, the same mouth that had completely destroyed you not five minutes ago.

He nestled his arms behind your shoulders to lift your seemingly boneless frame, resting it against him. “That was,” You couldn’t find the words, tilting your head to look up at him, his face no longer had that intense desire, that hunger behind it, instead it was softer, half lidded eyes unfocused as he brushed a few strands of your hair out of the way. You realized that you hadn't yet paid back the ‘favor’ and moved your hand to reach for his pants that were doing a poor job of concealing his excitement.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve got time.”  Feeling immense guilt bubble up in your throat, opening your lips to protest, but he only kissed your forehead gently. “No buts. You can make it up to me later.” He chuckled, but you understood what he’d meant. You both had talked about your pasts before, strings of meaningless encounters, doing things out of expectation either from society or a less than understanding partner. He had made it clear he wasn’t looking for another hookup and you had agreed, there was only so many men who kissed you and you felt nothing but sucked it up because god forbid you were a single woman in your late 20’s.

 Sacrificing what you truly wanted and desired because you felt the heavy burden of responsibilities from life and where it said you needed to be by a certain age or point. How many orgasms had you had to fake to avoid hurt feelings, of your partner but also it was easier to do that and lie to yourself than consider the alternative- that you were intrinsically broken.  Unable to feel the romantic chemistry and sexual pull, your well-meaning friends saying you had to give those guys more chances, or change the circumstances, but then again it still was a sugar-coated way of saying you were the problem.

After resigning yourself to your fate of luke-warm rolls in the sheets and kisses that made you want to cringe you had accepted a job at a corporate hub, nothing fairytale like but when you met  your reporting boss the air had crackled. You didn’t have to convince yourself it was different because it just was different. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, an air of confidence and passion that so many others missed the mark on, he smelled amazing, his touch was warm when he had shaken your hand, his eyes focused on you and you alone, a small smile played on his lips and you know that a soft warmth had crept over your cheeks. And now here he was, that same man, holding you to his chest, eyes closing as sleep seemed to come over him, hand that had been brushing your hair back falling and settling onto your hip.

Was this how it felt? To have everything you’ve ever wanted within one person? To feel so completely safe and unafraid to explore so long as they were by your side? You weren’t sure, but sleep was starting to win out for you too, resting your head more heavily against his shoulder, seeing the soft shadow of a smile play on his lips at the comforting weight of your body against his. You decided it didn’t matter, it felt right and that was all you cared about in this moment.

[archived-zombbean]

NSFW commission of Bruno >3>;

https://twitter.com/Zombbean/status/1473539691085541381

[the-lazy-leprechaun]

Please drop your recommendations for some fics for the following drivers:

- Daniel Ricciardo (smut/fluff - honestly anything)

- Lewis Hamilton (smut/fluff - honestly anything)

- Toto Wolff (smut/fluff - honestly anything)

- Mick Schumacher (Fluff only, except if the smut is also sweet, because I can’t see him wildin’ out)

[lemonluvgirl]

SLEEPOVER CONFESSION: feeling in the mood for some lemons 😋

LOL ok ok. I've got something written that is kind of lemony for one of my stories. Idk if I will end up using it in the fic tho. I'm leaning towards a different direction these days, so let me just drop it right here for your reading pleasure...

Bakery Kiss

(Katniss POV)

Ever so slowly, I gently cup his hand in mine and bring it parallel to my mouth where I debate for a fraction of a second before drawing it forward, drawing him forward, because Peeta follows, swaying closer on unsteady feet, pulled in by my brashness. I lower my lips to his knuckles and deposit a quick press of my lips to his warm skin where notes of flour, and spices, (cinnamon, always cinnamon first, and then other spices, a myriad depending on what he was making, today it was cinnamon and cardamom) is brought into my body through my indelicate and greedy inhale.

I am sure I look mad. I certainly feel mad. And everything in Peeta’s posture shows his shock. I could feel the tension radiating from the top of his blond wavy head, to his usually sturdy legs and feet, which seem unsteady for a moment.

When I finally drag my eyes upward to peek at him through my dark lashes, I can see he is actually astounded. I quickly drop his hand like it is hot coal.

I feel mortified, and a little stupid. I am an idiot for assuming that one gesture could communicate all I am trying to say.

“I just wanted to see what it would be like.” I try to explain, embarrassment getting the better of me and making me blurt out things without cause.

My words seem to snap him out of his stupor, because his eyes widen and focus on me – he gives me such a look that the force of it alone could flatten me.

The longing in his gaze leaves me breathless and shaky, but there is more to it than just that. There’s also such tenderness, and warmth, with an undercurrent of unexpected heat in his eyes that leaves me feeling scorched in its wake, so much so that I sway closer to him, gripping his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep my balance after that look he leveled at me.

His hands shoot out to steady me, but grip me at the same time.

Oh, those hands.

Those hands alone could undo me.

Their warmth, and steadiness, not to mention his gentle touch that borders on sweet torture.

Nothing feels as good as his hands on me at this moment.

I am inevitably proven wrong when I see the questioning gaze in his eyes.

A question that begs an answer. Where the slightest word, or sign of encouragement from me would be like a key opening up a door to floodgates of unknown waters.

I fear I might drown if I do this.

I also fear I’ll go mad if I don’t slate this curious hunger that’s racing through my blood.

But Peeta also shows such restraint – he holds me so close I can feel the warmth radiating off him, I can smell the delicious fresh earthiness of the sweat on his skin, and I can almost taste the softness of his plush looking lips. And yet he holds himself back, like a vestige of strength and something more noble than I could conjure up in myself. It only makes me want him more.

I tilt my head back to look up at him, our eyes meeting, gazes crackling like lightning striking the ground before the resounding book of thunder hits. Electricity dances between us, and the spark is lit. I purse my lips ever so slightly, knowling he is watching my every move, examining me in detail, for one sign of acceptance.

Once I give it, his answer is swift and sure.

His lips are on mine before I can even blink and it is like sweet surrender. Full, and all encompassing as the sensation washes over me. It was then I learned that the feeling of his mouth on mine, and his hands on my body simultaneously surpasses whatever ideas I had before about ultimate pleasure.

He tastes sweet and warm and richly decadent from whatever batter or treat he’s been taste testing today. His hands pull me closer, palms splayed across the small of my back and cupping the back of my head. I groan embarrassingly loud into his mouth, but he just slants his lips over mine, his breath kicking up and exiting in a rush of exhale somewhere between a quiet moan and a sigh.

He is impossibly good at this. Better than I remember. But then, of course, the last time we did this he was injured, hooked up to medical equipment, on strong pain medication, and had just come out of a two day coma.

Still, kissing Peeta while he is fully awake and aware, (and while I am too) is an experience on a whole new level. My hands whip up on their own accord, to grasp his forearms, moving up to his elbows where I try to hold on for dear life as he gently, (so damn gently) prods my lips with the tip of his tongue. I know he wants to gain entrance, I have heard of that kind of kissing. While in the back of my mind I have always thought it a little disgusting sounding, at the moment I find I can’t imagine anything more thrilling than letting Peeta explore me in the same way I am desperate to explore him.

It is like the weeks of feelings have built up and exploded in one moment of simultaneous desire and need and we are both running on instinct.

I part my lips for him, and he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, delving into my mouth with abandon and igniting an even larger fire within my blood. I am sure that if I don’t get closer to him, if I don’t fit my mouth more securely against his, I will never find satisfaction. So I press myself into him, my hands moving up and roaming along the thick muscles of his upper arms, squeezing, caressing, committing to memory the strength and shape of him. Peeta’s breath quickens, and he flexes his hands against my flesh, scraping my scalp with blunt fingernails, in a move that makes me writhe against him. He moves his other hand along my back until it rests against my hip, where he can gently knead my curves and learn the shape of my body as well.

Great shivers run down my spine, despite the humid heat, and Peeta groans deep in his throat before nipping my bottom lip with his teeth. My gasp is swallowed up, as he places soothing kisses on my lips and strokes my tongue with his, slowly, but firmly, with such obvious skill that for a moment I wonder where he has learned to kiss like that. The concern lasts only a second before he coaxes my tongue forward, inviting me to plunder his mouth as he had mine.

After that, I am lost. In the sensation, the taste, and the smell of him. He is everywhere and he is mine to behold, to explore, to possess. He opens himself to me, basks in my eagerness, and when I have captivated him as fully as he has me, he presses me back, into the rough bricks of the side of the building.

I whimper, softly, but not from fear. From the indescribable need that pounds in my blood, in my chest, and yes even between my legs. I ache for him. For more.

I remember the dream of him pressing me into the side of the cornucopia, I remember the unnameable need I felt then. The hunger. I don’t know why I do it, but something drives me to nip his deliciously plump bottom lip as he did mine. He gasps against my lips and his grip on my hip tightens, as does his hand in my hair. It’s not painful, really, just an incredibly wild feeling that spurs me on. I lift my hands to wind in the short curls at the nape of his neck and tug gently on them.

With a rough, tortured sound, he sinks against me, fitting his body completely flush with mine and even through the frenzy of lips, and teeth and tongues crashing against and melding with each other in a mad, dizzying chase, I still feel him.

Hard and thick, and undeniable against my quivering thigh.

He breaks away from my lips with a gasp, sounding shocked, reluctant, and pained all at once. I know he’ll pull away and leave me now. Maybe because he is embarrassed at the way his body reacted to mine. And as terrified as I am at the force and the speed of everything that has unfolded, I still don’t want him to go.

I shift my hands down, until they cup the firm and defined muscles of his sculpted back and refuse to let him pull away. His breath is a ragged song, and I am little better than a panting mess myself, but I hold him against me. I feel him stiff in my hold, and resistant for just a moment, but I grip the material of his shirt stubbornly and bury my face in his chest, until finally he gives up.

He leans into me with a quiet moan, pressing his hips into mine, grinding that hardness right between my legs and making me choke on a startled gasp.

Saliva pools in my mouth at the same time something warm pools in my lower abdomen, and trickles down my thighs, dampening my already wet underwear until I feel thoroughly saturated with hot, slick want.

The delicious friction he has caused in me flares up, bright and blinding so that I barely remember where we were, what time of day it was, and how precarious our situation really is, as I rock my hips against him instinctively.

“Katniss,” He says my name once, a plea and a warning. And with that, reality comes flooding back in, unwanted.

I lean back with my eyes closed, desperately seeking to shut the world out for just one more second and revel in this new found whatever it is that Peeta is doing to me, stirring in me. But he gingerly peels away from me, and I let him go reluctantly.

“We should be careful.” He tells me, and I don’t know how he finds it in him to think straight, much less be responsible and chiding after all that. My eyes are still closed, my back pressed against the bricks, my heart still hammering in my chest.

I open one eye to peer at him and find his skin flushed brilliantly, almost like a sunburn. The sight makes me feel better. I’m happy I’m not the only one scorched by the fire that burned between us. I’m glad his skin retains traces of me, and everything I made him feel, lingering even after we stopped. I refrain from looking down at his lower half, knowing that I’d most likely still find the evidence of his arousal on display. But something in his gaze tells me he would prefer me not to, I don’t know if it's to save him from embarrassment, or to save me from temptation, maybe both.

“Did that answer your question?” He asks me suddenly, as he steps back towards the bakery door, his hand gripping the handle tightly as if to anchor himself in the moment.

I lock gazes with him and I know he probably can tell from the lingering flush of my cheeks, the quick rise and fall of my chest, and the dazed look in my eye, what the truth is.

But I nod anyway. He nods in return, a quick but serious gesture, that seems to seal everything that came before, in a succinct, complete way.

“Good. Now you know. I’ll see you later.” He adds, and then he opens the door and lets himself in.

[indigoh4ze]

pls send me jily x reader full requests or just dialogues i’ll take anything pleaseeeeeeee

[hollyhockhund]

So........

For some reason i felt the urge to try something new, so...I wrote smut. 

I posted it on a different AO3 account so that way people that want to steer clear of that stuff can just enjoy my smut free works. So, my smut account is Quench_Queen (I like alliteration) and my non-smut account is Mistress_Luna_Hound. 

This particular smut tale involves horde prime, it’s a bit ooc but i enjoyed it. 

So...for those not paying attention

THIS LINK CONTAINS SMUT!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631702