OMG MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT SMUT!??

Extremely short and please don’t expect much. If the comedy kills your mood halfway, Im sorry.

Materials used:

Eat it— Eat it up! ___By wdymimstillnotthere

The Ultimate Guide to writing Smut__by QuinnAnderson on AO3

And serval unnamed Haiten Mangas.

For the sake of the author's sanity, the circumstances leading up to this moment shall remain classified.

Why are you currently being eaten out the Second Prince of Sunset Savannah?

Excellent question.

Every attempt to retrieve that information has been met with a suspicious amount of coughing from the narrator.

Just know that, through means beyond mortal comprehension, you are currently under Leona Kingscholar.Now suffer.

You don't quite remember how your peaceful evening has dissolved into this thick, musky atmosphere. All you know that you’re pinned onto the bed, hips elevated— while the man guilty for this entire situation is currently between your thighs, feasting on your like its some sort of rare delicacy.

Leona’s eyes glint with something annoyingly proud as he perfectly dismantle your sanity piece by excruciating piece.Each lap sends electricity racing through your body, the slight rasp of his tongue providing a friction that feels both devastating and divine.Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, the muscles quivering as you fought the urge to wriggle away, so as to not flee from this most delightful nightmare.

Did something happened? Despite the dizzying chaos building entire colonies in your brain, the thought stands startlingly coherent.

Anomalous to Leona’s usual behavior, there’s something almost needy in the way he is eating you out, as though he has discovered something sacred and cannot get enough of its taste. He sink his face deeper into your heat, pressing his nose and cheeks against your inner thighs, seeking to feel every single inch of your body.

Sevens, the feeling of his tongue fucking into your most sensitive folds is so precise, so relentless with such intensity —that your brain short circuits,utterly obliterating your earlier thoughts as you allow yourself to greedily devour another surging wave of pleasure.

He wants more, that much is clear.

Leona’s satisfaction is embarrassingly visible in the way he growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates against your aching folds and makes your skin prickle with renewed arousal.

You found your horniness steadily rising with each enthusiastic flicks. In response, your legs move on their own accord, clamping around his head with desperate strength, locking him against you.

You pull him deeper, determined to make this a sequel of Human Centipede.

Fingers tangling in those dark brown strands, guiding his mouth even further into your slick,aching .The friction of his feline tongue against your swollen becomes almost unbearable, your back arching off the sheets in a futile attempt to escape the pleasure.

Leona seems to relish the way you hold him, his tongue swirling deep inside you. Every time he dipped his tongue into your slit, you shudders violently, your entire body shivers under the onslaught of sensation.

Its all too much, but can anyone blame you for wanting more?

A low, hungry groan escapes his throat as he tastes more of your arousal, his saliva combined with your juices making everything slick and audible in the otherwise quiet room.

You feel as though you might literally melts into the mattress, dissolving into a puddle of pure feeling where the line between your body and his mouth ceases to exist. Where the two of you will be joined to something whole—where there’s no longer “you” and “him”, just a singular living organism, ceased to ever separate.

Forever.

your back arching off the sheets in a futile attempt to escape the pleasure. —Based on my own experience getting eaten out.

Leona’s satisfaction is embarrassingly visible in the way he growls low in his throat, a sound that vibrates against your flesh and makes your skin prickle with arousal. —I cringe so hard at this.

You pull him deeper, determined to make this a sequel of Human Centipede.—Get it? Cuz a German doctor sew people ass-to-mouth

You feel as though you might literally melts into the mattress, dissolving into a puddle of pure feeling where the line between your body and his mouth ceases to exist. Where the two of you will be joined to something whole—where there’s no longer “you” and “him”, just a singular living organism, ceased to ever separate.

Forever— Honestly, this is the best description I can manage based on my personal experience with scissoring. During the deed, I genuinely feel like I have temporarily merged with the other person.

Maybe that’s just me. I don’t know. I am not qualified to conduct further research.

You may also notice that I’m using an absolutely ridiculous amount of fancy phrasing, to the point where this entire thing is starting to sound less like an intimate scene and more like a Victorian woman fainting dramatically onto a chaise lounge.

There is a reason for this.

I am panicking.

I also just finished reading Romeo and Juliet for a personal project, and apparently my brain decided that the appropriate response was to infect my vocabulary with Shakespearean nonsense.

About writing smut:

To be perfectly honest, this writing irks me. Not just because of the quality of the smut (it feels awkward as hell and lacks the arousal effect 💔), but because of what it make me feel.

It doesn't feel like you're being loved. It feels like your body is being lusted after. And the important word there is your body, not you. It feels like your body is the main character while you, the actual person attach to it, are just...there.

Maybe I'm overthinking this.

What if really isn't that deep? What if smut is simply meant to evoke lust, and that's all there is to it? What if the whole point is to make the reader go, "Damn, that's hot," and then move on with their day?

Or maybe the problem is me.

Maybe I don't have whatever brain chemistry lets people read a scene and instinctively go, wow, they love me so much. Maybe I'm too busy staring at the surface-level things to notice the meaning hiding underneath. Maybe all the "you are loved" parts are tucked between the narration, squeezed into little gestures, or buried inside dialogue while I'm standing there with a magnifying glass looking in entirely the wrong direction.

But one thing I do know is this:

What I want to write is something that screams "he loves you dearly" without reducing that love to how hard he is fucking you or how good he makes you feel.

...Which immediately falls apart, because both of those things can be expressions of love.

Wanting your partner to feel good is love.

Being unable to get enough of them is love.

Wanting them close enough that rational thought leaves the building is also love.

So now I'm arguing with myself.

Again.

Maybe I really am overthinking this.

How do you communicate that someone is deeply loved without the narrator simply grabbing the reader by the shoulders and yelling:  "HE LOVES YOU, OKAY?"

The obvious answer is, "Actions speak louder than words."

Wonderful.

Tiny problem, tho.

They're in the middle of having .

It's a little difficult to have him randomly stop and fluff the pillow. Although...actually...that might work.

Imagine your partner looking genuinely concerned because you're about to pass out, or teasingly asking if you're still conscious.That's weirdly sweet.

Never mind.I accidentally convinced myself.

The second solution is dirty talk.

Which is unfortunate, because I suck at writing dirty talk.

I genuinely don't know if that's because I lack experience writing(and reading) smut, or because every time I try writing it, I immediately start sounding like a malfunctioning NPC cycling through five dialogue options.

I'm genuinely curious, though.

Is dirty talk, when you strip everything else away, basically just different flavors of:

"I love you."

"You feel so good."

"You're taking me so well."

"Look at you."

"I can't get enough of you."

"Show me how much you need me."

...and then the intensity changes depending on the character,the relationship, and however many psychological issues the author decided to sprinkle on top??

Obviously kinkier works wander into...well...kinkier territory. Curiosity kills me once.

[Read the entirety of I Love Atsushi just to see how much worse it could possibly get —> Me 🧍]

But eventually every character starts sounding like they're running out of RAM.

They begin repeating themselves, compliments, praise and that same five dirty lines in increasingly creative sentence structures.

At first I thought that was boring.

Then I realized...

...wait.

Maybe THAT’S the point.

Maybe they're repeating themselves because they're feeling so good they literally can't think of anything new to say.

OH MY FUCKING GOD.

Cutely throwing myself out the window.

So now I'm back to square one.

What am I even supposed to do?

Slow ?

That could work. It naturally emphasizes intimacy over urgency. It says, being close to you is enough.

Making him kiss your face over and over?

Okay, that's adorable. He loves you so much he physically cannot stop kissing you.

...Counterargument.

Now it sounds like he only likes your face.

Making him kiss you until HE can't breathe?

Cute.Shows how desperate he is.

Counterargument number two.

Now it sounds like he's forgotten YOU also require oxygen to survive.How he prioritizes himself more than you.

Writing smut is hard as shit.

You have to balance love, lust, pacing, practicality, characterization, atmosphere, emotional subtext, physical sensations, dialogue, body language, and somehow make all of that feel natural instead of looking like two people performing interpretive gymnastics while the narrator desperately tries to convince everyone they're soulmates.

I would genuinely like to salute people who can write smut well.

Hell, even people who write bad smut.

At least they had the courage to open the document.