#hey chat... eat up

[ochrearia]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Boyfriend/Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin')/Pico (Pico's School), Boyfriend (Friday Night Funkin')/Pico (Pico's School), Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin')/Pico (Pico's School), Boyfriend/Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin') Characters: Pico (Pico's School), Boyfriend (Friday Night Funkin'), Girlfriend (Friday Night Funkin'), Silly Billy/Yourself Additional Tags: Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Poetry, Idiots in Love, Talk of Synesthesia, synesthete!GF, Me when I'm young and dumb and in love, Kissing, Gifts, overwhelming sappiness, This polycule is going NOWHERE, Boyfriend is Called Keith (Friday Night Funkin'), Girlfriend is Called Cherry (Friday Night Funkin'), Soft Pico (Pico's School) Series: Part 40 of Ochre's Polyamory Propaganda Summary:

In a creative frenzy, Keith had spent the time alone with his memories trying to write something entirely new. He was never the best writer in terms of things like creative writing and poetry, more inclined to be a writer for music sheets and occasional song lyrics. But that was something he always did. He wanted to do something different, out of his comfort zone to show his partners how much he loved them. It must have looked ridiculous, pen and paper in hand with his phone right next to him with an online thesaurus web page. He wasn’t good with strings of meaningful words. Hell, he’d even had another tab open showing a baseline for how poems are written. He was committed, even with the risk that what he wrote would end up sounding terrible.

When Pico and Cherry had finally returned home, the rapper barely gave them any time to wind down before he was bouncing over, vibrating with excitement. The piece of paper was gripped tightly in his hands, holding it out to them while he bounced on the balls of his feet, apologizing for his terrible handwriting.

[storgicdealer]

OKOKOK so im re classpecting the sticks bc i understand much more abt classpects now than i did when i first classpected them. i hope you dont mind if i drop em here bc youre very smart and you know both avam and hs so

tsc - lord of space (this stays, its way too narratively relevant for it not to)

green - prince of breath (very passionate, perfectionist, tries to be carefree even when he cares way too much about what other people think)

yellow - mage of light (moreso on the knowledge front than the luck front, similar to rose but more active in his role, likes to figure things out but using what shes previously learned)

blue - witch of life (FEFERI WOOO obv shes very witchy, leaf feels like theyd be more rebellious, life player bc its very energetic and tends to take on a healer role in the group)

red - knight of heart (tends to jump straight to protecting her friends, very impulsive and passionate/soulful, acts confident but is sometimes more hesitant than others realise)

victim - thief of hope (man i was so on point with this one)

chosen - mage of doom (has a lot of firsthand experience with doom and suffering, also suffers from their aspect, and very good at causing doom *cough* chosen has never won a fight on the right side *cough*)

dark - heir of time (very destructive by default, causes a lot of death, RED 🔥🔥🔥, but also logical, at times a bit too laid back and chill)

striker - maid of mind (maid im not sure on i just wasnt sure what else to do, mind bc shes very straightforward, thoughtful, plans ahead, very serious and logical)

purple - prince of blood (accidentally or on purpose fucks up almost all his relationships at some point, at the same time is also the reason most of his friends met in the first place, Prince = royalty theming, also matches with green)

mango - rogue of life (acts very skeptical and un-lifey but takes life from others to give to the people they care about)

gold - sylph of hope (loves to cheer people up, very hopeful and energetic demeanor, fairly childish, wants to make everyone happy all the time!!!)

hangman - bard of rage (calms people down, fairly chill compared to the other players, prefers to support and wishes people were more peaceful and mature)

ballista - knight of breath (session lacks breath for reasons i dont feel like describing rn, acts chill but actually feels like he cant live up to the title of Hero and isnt that carefree, protects the few people he attaches himself too <- that one scene in his original short where he draws upon the memories of his friends to open the door)

hazard - seer of void (ngl this is mostly just process of elimination but hazard feels pretty void oriented tbf. hes so chill hes not minding anyones business)

paleo - witch of heart (same as above </3 very passionate headstrong etc etc)

sorry for the word vomit in your inbox i want to talk to you more and idk how to initiate conversation other than random infodumps

OH I ABSOLUTELY DONT MIND PLEASE DO SEND ME STUFF LIKE THIS

oh this is so good. this is so good

my knowledge on classpects is probably slightly closer to surface level than yours lmao but from what i get GOD yes !!!!!! yellow being a mage of light / red being a knight of heart is literally them hello. absolutely. its in their code

PRINCE OF BLOOD PURPLE !!!!!!!! WOOOOOOO !!!!! thief of hope victim OH this is so good. im eating this up (id say my victim leans towards being a rogue a little bit. my whole rambling on how much i associate the motif of them being a "divine being sharing the gift of the animators with the outernet" typa thing) mage of doom chosen DONT even joke with me lad. im shaking him shaking him so hard

MAID OF MIND AGENT !!! MAID OF MIND AGENT !!! (even if not a maid shes still very much a mind player methinks)

oh knight of breath ballista oohhh ... this is so smart oh my god (and very obviously. already fits with one of his forms in "wanted" of literally looking like a knight lol)

wait i just realized green & purple knight and princ. cinder im gonna. im. oh this is SO good

[fictionalcharactergraveyard]

{ fictionalcharactergraveyard outsiders fanfiction masterlist }

Summary:

But Dallas wasn’t smiling. He pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps forward. “What about Pony?” He asked, his eyes narrowing at Darry. Darry looked genuinely confused, a dark eyebrow rising.“What about him?” His gaze went to Ponyboy for a minute. Ok, that hurt a bit more than Ponyboy thought it would. Just as Ponyboy was gonna say it was June 26th, amused at the idea of seeing his brother's gears turning, Dallas suddenly snapped; “It's his birthday you idiots!” --- or Ponyboy forgets his own birthday and Dally isn't having it

One-shot ,6k+ words. Ponyboy focused, Protective Dallas, Curly is a good friend, misunderstandings, Darry and Sodapop are good brothers, Steve's there too

Summary:

It was only a few minutes into the movie did Soda stop. “Two-Bit?” “Hm?” He muttered, his eyes moving to his worried friend. “Are you sober?” --- Two-Bit gets sober on accident, Sodapop is more protective than normal, and Darry is a overworked mother.

One-shot, 4k+ words, Two-Bit focused, Mathews family, the gang being caring, a little bit of Sodapop/Two-Bit

Summary:

Cherry, still dumbfounded, turned to her friend. “What just happened?” Marcia let out a heavy sigh. Disbelief was evident in her voice. “I think I just agreed to go on a date with Dallas Winston.” --- Dallas likes being petty, Marcia likes pretty things, they both end up liking each-other.

One-shot, 5k+ words, rare pairing of Marcia/Dallas Winston, fall festival date, kinda ooc for Dally, pretty cute banter

Summary:

Darry looked at the kitty, the wet, shivering, and ridiculously adorable kitty, then at Ponyboy’s pleading green eyes. He groaned. “The night, Ponyboy. We’re keeping it out of the rain. I want it gone by the time I’m home from work tomorrow, do you understand me?” --- Ponyboy finds a kitty.

One-shot, 2k+ words, fluffy animal fic, mostly Ponyboy but overall Curtis brother centric, 'dad (darry) that didn't want a cat - dad with the cat' type vibes, wholesome

Summary:

Two-Bit gave an empty laugh. “And you’re so damn perfect?” “I never said that.” “Oh but you act like it.” Two-Bit took a step closer to him, nearly tripping over his own shoe. “You act all high and mighty. Actin’ like we’re all idiots. Nothing more than lowlifes.” “I do not -” Two-Bit kept going. “But you seem to forget the guy that got your ass out of the cooler twice after your folks kicked the bucket.” He smirked. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here right now, with your job and your brothers, wouldja Darrel?”

--- Two-Bit blackmails Darry without realizing it.

One-shot, 1k+ words, Darry and Two-Bit centric, Darry with a hell of a lot anxiety, emotional angst

Summary:

This had to be the loudest silence Sodapop had ever heard. Sodapop couldn’t move. It was just pure shock. Did Darry just say that? Did he actually just say that? --- Darry says something his doesn't mean & Sodapop is pissed

9/9 chapters, 13k+ words, completed, mostly Sodapop and Ponyboy centric, misunderstanding, protective gang, VERY protective Sodapop, small bit of Darry bashing (from other characters), fights, misunderstandings, happy ending

Summary:

six times Darry made his gang feel loved and one time he loved himself.

7/7 chapters, 9k + words, completed, multi POV all around situations with Darry, a bit of angst, pretty fluffy friendship wise, good brother and friend Darry

Summary:

“He’s hangin’ in there. Doin’ better.” He says, tone soft but a tad more serious. “I ain’t gonna say he’s fine because he ain’t. But he’s doin’ better.” At least he thought so. --- Eight months post canon, Two-Bit and Ponyboy are growing close. A lot closer than Two-Bit realized.

One-shot, 2k+ words, post-canon, Two-Bit centric, Two-Bit and Ponyboy friendship, angst, grief about Dally and Johnny's death, solemn ending

Summary:

“Sorry.” She choked out. Bob chuckled, his hand going from her face to her thigh. “Don’t be. I’m an ass.” He moved his thumb against her thigh gently. That caused her to crack a smile. Jackpot! “So,” He straightened up a bit, trying to figure out how to word it without getting kicked out. “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

---

Bob gives Cherry a pick-me up.

One-shot, 1k+ words, pre-canon, Cherry/Bob, fluffy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I wanted to write Bob in a good light while not changing characters, and I think I did pretty good!

Summary:

“I-I- '' Ponyboy panted out, panic sinking in. “I don’t got nothing-” He doubted that sixteen cents would do much good for him.

“Liar.” The man spat. His crazed eyes narrowed in on him.

“I don’t!” He shouted. “Let me g–”

The gunshot rang out before he could finish.

——— Ponyboy gets shot.

11/11 chapters, 14k+ words, multi POV, Ponyboy gets shot, angst, hurt/comfort all around, angst with a happy ending

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[todayisafridaynight]

NO THAT'S A THING. ANOTHER REASON I'M SCREAMING AND WAILING ABOUT JORILLA NOT BEING REAL (#1 REASON IS NOT GETTING TO DO WHATEVER THE BELLY RUB MECHANIC IS WITH HIM AND MAKING HIM SHRIVEL AND DIE ON THE SPOT LIKE SALTING A SLUG)

THIS SHIT'S ANIMAL CROSSING AND VIVA PINATA?????

[hearts-hunger]

what the hell is up with this thing where i don't get hunger cues any more and so i just....... don't eat until i'm suddenly very ill

[cherry-shipping]

also. i love my cool awesome little sibling frisk so much they are so great. also im at a constant war with myself inside my head because i headcanon them to be 8 during the events of undertale (chara died at 10, asriel died at 11 so theyre the youngest), but toddler frisk has my heart in a vice grip in their chubby little baby hands. toddler frisk is so great

[tirednotflirting]

night went from so good to the absolute worst so fucking fast last night and i have yet to rlly cry about it

[zoologica42]

Temperate Lake Dashboard Simulator

🐦‍⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow Going to try and eat this weird fish

♻️🐦‍⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow wilmdlife hopital

🐸rana-bufo Follow No one can ever truly understand what BULL4rog's music means to me 😭 this song in particular argrgrgrgrgrg the way he puffs out his vocal sack asdfghjk

BULL4rog: listen here on spotify ♻️🐸rana-bufo Follow I think I huave chytrid

🐟ilikeeatingminnowsFollow I just migrated here from finstagram please be nice

🐠powerbottomfeeder Follow

I have HAD IT with this lake, it’s the third day in a row we’ve had nitrates above 8 ppm and uug the algae, my allergies I can’t do this

♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow

Lol we regularly get nitrates up to 20 ppm in my lake ♻️🦞crawdaddy Follow uhhh you shouldn't be bragging about that, it's really unsafe ♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow suck it you little oligotrophic bitch

🐢snappturt Follow Dear Tumblr, am I the Basshole for the way I catch minnows? I was chatting with some of the guys I bask with and they said the way I catch minnows is problematic; What I do is I sit on the bottom of the lake, I hide myself in the mud and I open my mouth. My tongue looks a lot like a little worm so I wiggle it around- and because of that, minnows swim over and check it out. Once they get close enough, then I bite down and eat them. Some of my rockmates have told me that this is manipulative and toxic behavior- but they also eat minnows...I don't know guys...

🦆tree hole-nester-acorn-eater Follow

is it just me, or is this super homoerotic???

🐟bigpikexxl Follow liveblogging diving down to the bottom

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow dark

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow big log

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow rock

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow kinda cold

♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow oh hi @deepwatersculpin!!!

♻️🐠deepwatersculpin Follow oh hey @bigpikexxl!!!

never thought i'd seen one of my mutuals irl!!! I didn't even know we lived in the same lake!!!

🐠Shadlad Follow I'm not sorry, and I'm not afraid to say it, if you're an introduced species, go dry yourself out. You're not welcome to eat up all of our resources and live in my ancestral longs and rock crags. These things are for us to relate to and not for you to squander.

♻️🦞crevice-steve Follow

Can't believe this type of fishcourse is still popular on this site, introduced species didn't choose to be introduced and have as much of a right to live as anyone else. Bigotry against introduced species is still bigotry and that's a hill I will dry on. ♻️🐠Shadlad Follow Go ahead, dry yourself out then ;) ♻️🪷nootnootnewt Follow Hey man, I hate invasive species as much as anyone else but please stop telling people to beach themselves for political reasons- yeah that includes inavsives too ♻️🦐typical_scud Follow Did you legit just use the word Invas*ve to describe introduced species? ♻️🦢flatfootswimmer Follow anyone in this thread eat pondweed?

♻️🐟largemouthbASS Follow A colab with my mutual @2xcrested_cormorant after they got released from the wildlife hospital. They haven't been on much since the Fish and Wildlife Service released them in the wrong lake and it took them a while to get back to their colony. We hope this guide will help you avoid accidentally eating/engaging with bait!

[avatar-aaang]

went to the fuckin clinic bc I feel awful and shes like yea sorry, its just leftover covid symptoms. nothing we can do. like oh okay. I mean I figured as much but I was kinda hoping thered be Something??? whatever. just to keep drinking water, eat as regularly as I can, etc. Ugh. Hate this.

Keep wearing your masks, keeping things clean, get your boosters, etc.

[keeps-ache]

i should learn to make hash browns

[carnageacorn]

.

actually in this space im going to say. in one scene early in infinite jest two brothers are talking about the way their mom has acted after their father's suicide. the first brother asks if she's even sad he's dead. and the other says: there are 2 ways to make a flag be half-mast. you can lower the flag halfway, or you can double the height of the pole. he says: she's plenty sad, i bet. anyway that bit has fundamentally changed the way i think about displays of grief.

[seuugyoon]

#rant

[zephyrchama]

Can't stop thinking about the brothers calling MC "master" since that new teaser trailer came out. The game is called "One Master to Rule Them All." It's always been called that. This massive potential has been right in front of our eyes the whole time.

Lucifer, who only uses it in private when he's feeling particularly devilish. He wraps his arms around you, looks you right in the eye, and asks, "how does my master feel today, hmm?"

Mammon, who has an empty wallet and the urge to gamble: "Maaaster! Can I borrow some cash? I can, right? I'm your first, after all. I'll just take it from your wallet."

Leviathan, who wants to go to an anime collab cafe but is too anxious to go alone, so he begs you: "Please! Master! It's only open this week and I just have to collect all 24 limited edition cafe coasters! It'll be easier if we go together!"

Satan, who catches you when you stumble and jokingly asks, "are you okay, master?" He likes seeing the little sparks of wrath in your eyes that mirror his own.

Asmodeus, who thinks the word is hot and enjoys your reaction when he comes to steal you away from other people by saying "hey! I need to speak with my master. I'll be borrowing them for a while. I'm sure you don't mind."

Beelzebub, who hungrily stares at the food in the fridge with your name on it. He knows he needs to butter you up to have any chance of success: "Hey master, are you gonna eat that?"

Belphegor, who uses it at the most unexpected times. He texts the group chat, "does anyone know where our master is? I can't find them." It sets off a long chain of messages. "Master's not in their bedroom?" "Master? Haven't seen 'em." "Did you try yelling 'master!' and seeing if they respond?" "I saw master getting something to drink about an hour ago." "Master, are you reading our messages? I know you are." "I can't believe master is ignoring us." Several crying emoji are sent in quick succession.

Solomon and Barbatos, who witness the brothers doing this on occasion. Solomon turns to the latter and says, "You never call me your master. Want to give it a try?"

Barbatos looks at him with barely repressed revulsion. "I only have one master, and that is the Young Master. If you ever make such a joke again I will have you tried in court for lese-majeste."

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

Join my taglist HERE

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[todayisafridaynight]

So I’ve asked this before, but it didn’t get answered (at least I don’t think) and I think the problem was the wording so I’ll ask it like this. Who’s more deplorable Jo or Ryo, the father or the son, chairmen or Governor?

oh piss sorry tumblr mighta eaten it the first time :( but uhhhh cant go wrong with saying a politician’s more evil right 💀💀