#smutty stuff

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.

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.

NSFW commission of Bruno >3>;

- 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)

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.

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!