#this is not written half as well as i want it to be but ive been dwelling on it for two weeks and i cant think of how else to say it so

[breserker]

so i checked the notes of this post and some of the complaints about miscommunication contrivance give the well worn example of "person walks in at the exact wrong moment and leaves before clarification" being bad and annoying and hey thats the main conflict of the second half of Shrek

but it works

specifically because the KIND of miscommunication upholds the movie's central themes of ogres being Undesirable, of Shrek thinking hes okay being alone because he buys into the societal presumption of ogres being undesirable, that HES undesirable - the miscommunication being hes not, there is someone for him but she sees herself as undesirable bc of the ogreness too. Its literally about societys standards of beauty and race driving a potential loving couple apart bc they think they must follow what society wants of them.

The tricky thing with writing is that there really is no true Bad trope or even bad type of a trope, its just having the knowledge (and willingness to fail as you play around with writing to gain that knowledge) to use the toolbox at your disposal to your best advantage. I know that seeing multiple instances of a trope done to a contrivance level may sour it, but that doesnt mean it doesn't have its uses. It doesnt mean Shrek is a worse story for using a trope, because it as a story knew exactly what it was doing when it did. And sometimes i like to see a story use potentially overdone tropes with confidence bc they know what to do with them instead of a story that is so concerned with coming off cliche that it abandons the toolbox because miscommunication tropes bad/annoying.

Ive written for tropes i vehemently hate (boss/subordinate relationships) bc i wanted to not only challenge myself but also write them in a way I'd find them interesting, and to this day experiments like that are some of my favorite fics Ive ever written. And I still hate that trope! Try it! Surprise yourself! Unrestrict your writing!

"Why didn't they just communicate?? They're so stupid!" Have you considered that communicating with someone you love and value and don't want to hurt is scary and that vulnerability takes practice and that perfect characters with perfect words make the most boring stories of all

[s0fter-sin]

ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

[lostandbackagain]

this is one of my favorite theses in the inkworld each way it plays out is so!!

elinor's dad valued his books over her and her sisters to the point she internalizes it and becomes the same kind of hermit he was, before and after the folcharts come back into her life. basta was groomed into believing he was inherently unlovable except by capricorn so he'd do anything to keep that small remaining amount of love. brianna realizes if dustfinger wasn't dead then he had to have abandoned her, so the next person to give her their full attention? she'll throw away every other relationship she has for them, the same way she was thrown away. the verbal abuse violante endured as a kid (and currently, because 19 is still a kid) influenced the kind of mother she is and she doesn't even realize until it's almost too late that she's done to jacopo what the adder did to her! and I've already talked about the physical abuse from farid's birth family influencing how he forms severely anxious relationships.

and none of these are just character padding! all of these characters influence the plot so heavily by becoming traumatized and by working through it and I don't have any idea how she pulled it off

[fagmegumi]

daddy ill be honest kitten cant fucking take any of it anymore

[tenspontaneite]

Hi hello assembly is making me loose it just a little. I'm going feral in my corner over here from it

Thank youuu nonny, I appreciate that a very large amount. I needed this ask rn. might be updating today or tomorrow idk let's see!!!

Also like as of yesterday I reached the 50k written for / related to Assembly since 20th May so that's pretty sick

[anadorablekiwi]

12 year old Kiwi would simultaneously be Very Very Disappointed and also Very Proud

[bludraws094]

woo gardening

the dish in the middle is for bees. im gonna put blue marbles in it and then fill it with water. the water is so they dont die of thirst (which is apparently a common thing to happen to bees?) and the marbles are so they dont drown

i have extra marigolds along with some seeds and bulbs that i didnt get to fit in there (its also bcus i had an odd number of each type of marigold and i for some reason felt the need to make this somewhat symmetrical)

i didnt get to use any of my bachelors buttons seeds. of which i have a shit ton. hopefully my mom figures out a good spot for me to plant everything else bcus i want to plant the fucking bachelors buttons

[l-cereta]

Interestingly, though, (and extremely specific to this example! This is probably where op's friend's husband got it from) in a study by Haidt, Koller, and Dias in 1993 (Affect, culture, and morality, or is it wrong to eat your dog?), they interview Americans and Brazillians on this exact question — and found that despite their being no harm against others in the act, AND despite participants directly stating themselves that no one was harmed... "participants still usually said the actions were wrong, and universally wrong. They frequently made statements such as, 'It's just wrong to have sex with a chicken'" (my emphasis). Eight years later, Haidt would go on to argue in a seminal paper in the field of descriptive ethics (i.e. "What do people actually do?" as opposed to "What should people do?") that people form moral positions due to knee-jerk reactions and then justify their positions after the fact, as opposed to trying to privately reason things out and then come to a conclusion. I'm not a fan of the so-called 'Wisdom of Repugnance' any more than the next tranny, but the reason that it got spread around so much is that it's how we — for better and often for worse! — actually think.

This is a sort of different tangent than what @jurph is on (and for that conversation all I'll voice is a skepticism that moral thought, or really anything, can be broken down into neat categories as the Wikipedia article seems to suggest — seems like Haidt also had a hand in that, oh well, can't win 'em all) but I think the crucial point is that this isn't something that conservatives uniquely do. In Haidt's later 2001 paper, he mentions another study earlier that year where they "found the same thing when they interviewed conservatives and liberals about sexual morality issues" (my emphasis). Whether using a dead chicken like a fleshlight actually harms someone matters a lot less in the actual judgement-making than whether it feels wrong: "affective reactions were good predictors of judgement, whereas perceptions of harmfulness were not."

I'm very sympathetic about these "should" statements. For example, we shouldn't judge people based on unfair first impressions — but we do, and we probably always will (take, for instance, this 1972 study indicating that a person looking attractive leads other people to think they're also kind and of good character). Morals shouldn't play into our sex lives, but they do, and it's not just the conservative boogeymen who do this. Everyone does. Instead of shaming someone who's behaving in the default manner for every human on earth, talk to them like a real person! Haidt writes about a phenomenon called 'attitude alignment,' where there's "a constant pressure towards agreement if two parties [in a conversation are] friends and a constant pressure against agreement if the two parties [dislike] each other." By speaking harshly, you're lessening your odds for agreement!

Oh my god. I need to share another story of my new friend making today. So my friends husband says, very casually, as we’re about to leave for the ren faire, “Yeah, it’s like my story about fucking a chicken.”

And of the four people present I was the only one who was shocked. The others all nodded as if to say, yes yes, we know, the chicken fucking.

So he explained, when a progressive person is analyzing a behavior they will typically use the metric, Harm/No Harm. They may not like things in the No Harm category but they wouldn’t object.

Conversely, a more conservative mindset used something like eight metrics. Authority/No Authority Moral/Not Moral, things like that.

So, he posited if you want to sound out someone’s mindset (and you’re willing to live with the repercussions) you can ask: if a man buys a dead chicken from the store, cleans it thoroughly, then fucks it, and then eats it himself…?

I listened in dawning horror, both rapt and disgusted. But into the growing pause I whispered, “No harm…” because it really has no effect on me or anyone else if a man fucks a dead chicken. I don’t like it, I think he’s a weird dude, but like. That’s his dick. But a more conservative person will hear that and object on moral grounds despite not being harmed.

It’s been haunting me all day, so please enjoy.

[arolesbianism]

Everyday I see another youtube video or whatever say smth along the lines of "this character is badly written because they're unlikable/annoying/insert negative description here" and everyday I end up massively disappointed because I came here for analysis on the actual writing of a character not just a description of the feelings they made you experience

[v4mpvelocity]

KANG DAE-HO X READER NSFW HEADCANNONS

pairing: Kang Dae-Ho x female reader

SMUT MDNI

A/N : literally my man sigh, all of these headcannons start sfw with how you met kinda but the rest IS nsfw

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who put his life on the line to ensure your safety during red light green light. Pushing you behind him and shielding you with his body when Gi-Hun said for those who were smaller to get behind someone bigger.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who you have been close to ever since, relying on eachother for survival in the games, a bond forming between you both. Although, as the games progressed that bond went beyond mutual effort to keep eachother alive. Eye contact that would last longer than for those who were just friends, lingering touches, unspoken words.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who would do anything to protect you and ensure your well-being. Always keeping you at arms length whether it be making you sit next to him or keeping an arm around your shoulders. Hugs after games, sharing beds, sharing food, there was much more than just friendship going on between the both of you, and you both knew it.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who's willing to fight somebody if they disrespect you, whether your around or not. His protective instincts working overdrive as he feels a primal need to declare you as his, making sure everybody knows it.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who thrusts into you softly from behind when everyone is asleep, his strong arms keeping you close to his chest as he presses kisses to the side of your face. His thick cock filling you deliciously with each thrust, the tip kissing your cervix.

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who puts your needs before his, ensuring that youve finished at least twice before even putting his cock in to make sure that your prepped enough. Holding you to his chest as you whine whilst he slides his dick into your tight hole, stretching you to the point where you feel as if your being split in half.

'Mm shh...shh honey.... almost all the way in... that's it, good girl...taking it so well'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who talks you through it, murmuring softly in your ear as you whimper and whine, trying to stay quiet as his cock abuses your oversensitive pussy. Softly caressing your tits with one hand as the other rubs circles on your clit, only intention to bring you the most pleasure he can.

'That feel good, hm? yeah? such a good girl?' or 'You want it harder honey? hmm..shh..shhh ive got you sweetie'

Kang Dae-ho, the man who has your legs spread at an almost embarrassing angle in the squid game bathrooms, but somehow manages to make you feel as if you were the most gorgeous being known to man. Pouring his love and affection for you into every thrust, eyes locked with yours as if he were proving his love for you through actions and unspoken words. Making the most vulgar words seem as if they were written by the gods themselves, as if it were angels singing praises from up above.

'Thats it honey, keep bouncing on that cock...fuckk..such a good girl' or 'So fuckin' beautiful.....my beautiful girl'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who whines when he cums, and hes not ashamed of it either. His thrusts speeding up as his cock drives into you with an unfathomable speed, abusing your gummy walls. Hands gripping your hips as he pounded into your pussy, balls smacking against your ass causing the sound of skin on skin to echo throughout the room. He 100% has a breeding kink and will want to cum in you with any chance he gets, but if thats not your thing thats ok with him too!

'Fuckk..fuckkk...gonna cum honey....where you want it baby? you want me to fill you up hm? yeah? good girl.' or

'Fuckk....please can i cum in you baby......lemme fuck a baby into you.'

Kang Dae-Ho, the man who is the biggest softie and amazing at aftercare, ensuring you feel worshipped and loved before running you a hot bubble bath and lighting some candles. Providing you with anything you may need food, water you name it he'll get it for you. Then after he'll hold you close, ensuring your asleep before he can finally drift off.

[bunny-jpeg]

holy- THE MAX WEED FIC MIGHT BE THE HOTTEST F1 PIECE IVE READ SO FAR OML PLEASE MORE DRUNK FILTHY SEX WITH MAX I BEG YOU!! or hear me out his rival (who already is into max but refuses to admit it) accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and she’s forced to beg and grind on max for his help!! size kink please with those huge thighs and hands of his ❤️❤️

oh my god thank you!!! i wasn't too sure how people would like intoxicated fics! i know that most write it with liquor, but if you've had sex while stoned, it's a nicer feeling. anyway, i'm really fucking with this idea so! i hope you enjoy!

and for those out there on the internet, send me your ideas! i love ideas to be shared and written!!!! send me your smutty ideas! i want em!!!

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, aphrodisiacs, begging/whining, size kink, praise kink, non-penetrative sex, driver!reader, recreational drug use (weed), enthusiastic consent, thigh riding, clothed sex, max being a good rival/lover

"i think i should cutting these up for you, schat." he said as he cut the bag open for you. nothing too spectacular on, just four pieces of chocolate, "so this was their response to not having weed." he picked up a piece and eyed it in the light of the kitchen.

most drivers had their vices, many indulged in the bitter nectar of alcohol. others enjoyed the private company of certain individuals, which left heavy stacks of money on nightstands and tucked into bank accounts. a small portion got their kicks from substances that went harder.

you remembered having to sit in a meeting with max when you first started in formula one about the dangers of illicit drugs. as if most of the retired drivers didn't have their brains re-altered by the likes of cocaine.

but this wasn't canada, or certain parts of the united states or even amsterdam. you couldn't just freely by your fix, weed, so you had to get creative. but someone with as much money as you, with that much influence in a city like monte carlo allowed you to get what you needed.

it may not be marijuana on paper, but it would do the trick on a saturday night during summer break.

"you don't think i can handle it?' you asked as you rested your chin against your hand with your elbow on the counter. you sighed, "you think so poorly of me, verstappen?"

he sighed, "no, i just don't want you passed out on my couch. the point is to have fun, not get wasted." he said but before he could grab a knife to cut it half for you, you had taken a piece of it and ate it down. max looked at you and put the knife back in the drawer, "you know, fine. fine, fine, fine. let's see how this goes, schat."

it was almost a dare and made you sit up a little more, you made a face at him, "what? i'm a big girl, i can handle a little drugs."

he drummed his fingers against the counter top and stuck out his bottom lip as he made a face back at you. his other hand was on his hip as he said, "like you could handle all that vodka in austria in twenty-nineteen. or when you out smoked me that weekend in amsterdam and i had to stay in your hotel room because you were going to cry if i left."

"ya know, verstappen. i don't like how i'm being spoken to."

he sighed, he went around the counter and kissed you on the cheek, "grab your bottle of water, you're going to need it." max knew, underneath it all, you carried a soft spot for him. he did for you as well, but he was a little more open about it. you had protected your soft underbelly when it came to him, while he held his arms open for you.

the feelings didn't start until an hour after you took it.

there was some movie on, but you weren't paying much attention. you were cuddled up against him. his arm was around your shoulders and kept you closed to him. you could feel the tingle in your feet and up your legs.

you made a small moaning noise with your nose in the side of his neck, right up against his hair. your hand was spread across the broadness of his chest.

your clenched onto his shirt and shakily exhaled as it start to really hit. everything felt gooey in your brain as you rubbed up against him. usually when you took part in illicit fun, you just got hungry or sleepy. but not this, something swirled in your gut.

"max." you said out of breath.

he pulled you closer to him and looked at you, "yes, schat? aw, was it all too much for you?" he cupped the back of your head and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

you whined against the kiss as you felt the heat run through your body. you felt hot all over, your knew your face must feel so hot. when you pulled away, you swallowed, "i'm.. i'm really turned on."

he chuckled, oh this was perfect. he rubbed the back of your head, those blue eyes enchanted you. this guy really was going tire-to-tire with you almost every weekend. that excited you.

you've thought about the sight of him in that driving suit, the stupid kits red bull puts him in. even now in a white t-shirt, and sweatpants after a nice dinner, you thought about what was under there.

"shit."

he chuckled then reached over to grab your metal water bottle. he opened it for you and gave you some. you drank it down heavily before he laughed once more. he put the bottle down and asked, "how are you feeling?"

"hot all over." you said, "i need you to fuck me."

he said, "i don't think i can. you're too high." he tucked hair behind your ear, but his eyes went wide as you got on either side of his thick thigh. he looked up at you and said, "schat, i need your word. are you okay to do this?"

you nodded as you gripped onto his shoulders, "yeah, yeah. i'll do all the work. nothing serious." even through the layers of clothes, you felt the stimulation across your clit. you could feel the blood rush in your ears.

your dug your nails into the meat of his shoulders, through the t-shirt he wore. you shakily exhaled, "i can see why everyone obsesses over your thighs." you then grabbed his hand and pressed your palm against his, "i didn't realize how big your hands were either." you giggled, "they're like bear paws." then pressed his hand against your heated cheek.

"they're not that big."

you nodded as you moved against him, your clothed cunt felt stimulated by the movements you made. plus his hands on you made you more turned on. your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "they so are, they're like big paws. big bear paws." you giggled as you squirmed against him.

max looked away from you for a moment and sighed deeply to compose himself. in all fairness he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to fold you in half and fuck you until no words could leave your mouth. but he couldn't not while you were like this, even when he said yes. he wanted to make sure that you were sober when he did that.

"why can't you fuck me, max? i've been such a good girl! i almost beat you in belgium, that should make you fuck me." you whined, you stuck out your bottom lip with your hips still grinding against his thigh.

he cupped your behind and kept his nose against your, he sighed, "i'd love to, beautiful." he said, "but, you're not in the right mindset. i know we're rivals. but, i could never hurt you." it was the god's honest truth.

"no fair!" you whined.

"if you need to get off again after this, you can feel free to... pleasure yourself." he said, the words got caught in his throat. he could feel the blush up to his ears at the sight of you grinding against his thigh.

you nodded and held onto him as you continued to rub against him. you panted wildly and you were louder than usual. nromally you were rather quiet, but while high you were pitifully loud. you kissed him on the jaw and said, "next time i wanna feel that nose of yours against my pussy."

he exhaled deeply, his heartbeat staggered, holy shit. your dirty talk was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. he held onto you and let you continue to rut against him like a little puppy.

"aw, ya like that, max?" you asked softly.

he chuckled, "i have to say, usually you're more subtle. i didn't know that you liked my body so much."

you looked at him and said, "max, are you fucking kidding me? have you seen yourself. the first time i ever saw you without your shirt on, i almost came!" this was something you'd never admit sober, "big ol' hands, big ol' thighs, big ol' nose. all leads to one thing." you jabbed your finger in his chest, "and i know the answer to that!"

if this was a dream that max was going to wake up from, he was going to wish he was dead. but as he clenched onto your hips and let you set your own pace, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

usually giving him a compliment was like having your teeth pulled. but right at that moment, your tongue was loose as you chased that orgasmic high you needed.

"just keep going." he panted, trying to keep himself together. and that you did, rubbing yourself raw against him.

you eventually hissed through your teeth as you climaxed in your panties. you wanted to cover your face from the rush through your system. you felt the sweat on your neck as you slowed down. you let out a few stray moans before you slowed down enough to a stop.

"holy shit." you panted as you rested your face against his shoulder. your fingers held onto the front of his shirt as you felt the aftershocks in your body.

he rubbed your back, "how are you feeling?" his cock was painfully erect in his sweatpants, but he wasn't going to try it push it further. not while you were in this state. he'd rather a painful erection then you getting hurt.

you pulled away and looked him in the eyes, your eyes were rimmed red as you nodded, "perfect, excellent, amazing. do..do you have any snacks in the fridge?"

he chuckled. you were painfully cute like this, all snuggled up with him. he knew come the next race you'd be getting in his face and challenging him at every turn. but at that moment, with you high as a kite both of the chocolate and sexual bliss. he ran his fingers through your hair and looked at your cute face. he said to you, "why don't you just lie down and i'll see what i have."

you giggled and wrapped your arms around him. you kissed him on the cheek, "you're a life saver, max!"

-

you woke up the next morning with a headache. it was a deep throb like a hangover but it still made you wince if you focused on it too much. you rolled over, away from the streaming sunlight and into max's arms.

"why did you let me take a whole piece?"

he moved his face closer to you and exhaled deeply, "because you're the most stubborn woman i've ever met." he pulled you closer to him, "give me five more minutes and i'll get you something for your head."

you pressed a kiss on his jaw. maybe he wasn't a total nightmare to be around. underneath the mask (or helmet) he wore, he was a caring man who wanted what was best for you. he even made you breakfast afterwards, but don't mistake it all for pure kindness.

come the dutch grand prix after the break, you two were going to go back to wanting to maul one another (and not sexually) <3

[lovableapocalypse]

birds of a feather

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

wc- 900ish

warnings- none, i think!

a/n- season three fueled this lolol. i love benedict he's the best bridgerton and i stand by that. anywayyy here's a cute short fic. i hope you guys like. love u all. send any request you want! i need to start writing again. (also this is the first fic ive written/published in like 7 months so sorry if im rusty lolol.) also title inspired by billie's new song. ok bye love u.

Benedict was uncomfortable. He was trying his best to avoid the bustling mamas and crowded dance floor, but seemed to be swept in the middle of it all. He sought comfort in the refreshments table but even there his luck was thin. 

Tired of making horribly awkward eye contact with debutantes and failing to find any more of his siblings to hide behind, he shifted quickly out of the ball and into the quiet anteroom. Glancing over his shoulder and turning a corner, he bumped into a figure with an “Oomph.”

He recovered and caught the mysterious figure before they fell. 

“My apologies.” He spoke, helping who he now recognized to be a lady stand upright. 

You turned to face him more fully, caught off guard. “That’s alright.” You were partly breathless from the unexpected run in. 

It was just the two of you in the secluded room. “Hiding as well, I presume?” You spoke. 

Benedict laughed, “Yes.” 

You smiled in return. “It’s refreshing to know someone shares a similar distaste for these things at times.”

“Very much so.” He sighed and raised his brows, his hands finding his hips. 

You went to speak again, but heard heavy footsteps approaching from the crowded party. You looked to Benedict who seemed to read your mind, quickly grabbing your arm and shoving you two around the corner, flush against the wall. His hand stayed attached to your arm as you panted and tried your best to stay unnoticed. 

The footsteps faded and you glanced sideways at the Bridgerton as they did. Holding in your amusement was difficult and when you were sure it was safe to, you let out a laugh. Benedict, despite becoming somewhat flustered in your hasty escape, joined in your laughter. 

You sighed and rolled your head to glance at the man again. His smile was contagious and you were happy to have a moment alone with him. Even if it was improper in society’s eyes. 

Sighing you spoke, “I should probably return soon. Before my absence becomes anymore obvious.” 

“Is your attendance of great importance?” Benedict questioned. 

“Partly.” 

“I see.”

You smirked as he took in your appearance. “If you find your way back, I’d be happy to keep you company. Maybe everyone will keep their distance if we seem engaged thoroughly with one another.”

You watched his face as he contemplated your offer. He nodded slightly, agreeing. 

Only then did you realize he was still holding onto your arm. He glanced down as well, gently releasing you from his grasp. You peeled yourself off the wall and made your way back to the ball, but not before looking back once more and meeting his eyes. 

You felt your face flush as you reentered the extravagant event. It was nice to have shared a moment away from everyone. You greeted more people and quickly became engaged in dull conversation with guests, thrown right back into the chaos of the function. 

Benedict was still loitering in your previous hiding spot. He needed a moment. He was surprised to have found someone else avoiding the party as well. Especially a beautiful woman like yourself. 

Taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face, he made his return to the ball. His eyes cast around the room searching for you. He was happy to take you up on your offer and stick by your side for the rest of the night. He located you near the balcony and made his way. 

You were nodding your head along in distracted agreement when he interrupted. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he started, “but I’m afraid I owe the miss a dance.”

You smiled as you took Benedict’s outstretched hand, sending a half-hearted apology to the interrupted guest. He led you to the dance floor as a new song poured out of the ensemble’s strings. 

You followed his lead in a content silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence. He smiled down at you, leaning close in a whisper. “Where have you been all night? We could have avoided hiding all together if I had found you sooner.”

“I’m afraid more people wanted to converse with me than necessary. A bit annoying, truly.”

“Understandable. I was avoiding conversation myself when I snuck off.”

You smiled and he pulled you closer, enjoying the movement of your bodies. The song came to an end and you were disappointed in having to face the crowd again. Benedict held his arm out for you and you graciously accepted. 

“There you are!” 

You turned together and came face to face with Violet Bridgerton. 

“I was wondering where you two ran off to. Almost sent Anthony to find you until I spotted you on the dance floor.” 

“Ah, yes Mother.” Benedict answered. “We just needed a moment.”

She nodded in understanding before stepping closer, “Do I need to remind you this ball was thrown in your honor? I understand you two are newlywed, but please refrain from ditching your own party.”

You blushed and hid your face in Benedict’s shoulder.

“Yes, Mother.” He laughed. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and sent you her undeniable look of understanding. 

“We were not as sly as I hoped.” You mumbled. 

“Next time warn me before you run off so we can go together.” He added.  

Laughing, you faced him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Of course, husband.” 

[pubbee]

Man another big writing run today I am. Insane rn 😭

[chiscaralight]

Scaramouche x fatui! Harbinger reaader and reader is a higher rank than him.. Ive seen this a couple times before and it has me soaked everytime.

hehehehehhe nsfw balladeer!scara x reader. feels like i havent written for my stink in years. slight degradation?

this should be so embarrassing—it shouldn't even be happening. but why does it feel so good if it wasn't meant to be? why do you constantly find yourself wandering into his chambers in the dead of night so he can have his way with you? or more importantly, why was it so important today that you couldn't even wait for the moon to rise?

the reason will remain unknown to you, but the balladeer remains the answer. your front is pressed flat against his desk, bottom half completely exposed as he pounds into you with that sinister smile you don't even have to look back to see. shit, you're a higher rank than him, you should be the one bending him over! but with the way his cold fingers are pressing against the fat of your hips, dragging your body back into his as he hits that spot that makes you cry out his name with each thrust.

his speed is dizzying, and his grip on your hair is inhumane. the balladeer's lips are mere centimeters away from your ears, sickly spitting about how stupid you look going dumb on his cock. you're quick to oppose him in meetings and speak out on almost everything he lays down. but you take every single thrust he gives like it was your only purpose. such a big, bad harbinger like you getting their brain fucked out by someone lower ranked, what would your subordinates think, hm?

but his words hold no weight to you once his mouth finds your neck because you're already writhing from the pleasure of the bites he's adorning you with. he's freeing one of his hands to stretch it down, barely bumping his nimble fingers against your clit. your hand is flying towards his, desperately trying to get more touch out of him, but he only laughs. the fact you think you have any sort of power here is so amusing; pitiful actually.

"m-my lord! i was told to deliver some documents to you from Childe."

the voice behind the door is muffled by the thick wood, but the words are loud and clear. your eyes widen at the thought of seeing you like this, but the balladeer is faster. your face is being pressed into the material of his desk as his eyes meet yours and his voice is a low whisper.

"aww, are you scared of your subordinates seeing you so useless? what if I was to let him in and see you like this?"

you're not sure if the tears welling in your eyes are from how sensitive you're getting or the reputation riding on your head was about to be damaged, but the silent plea of your eyes is enough for him to barely bite back a smile. pure fear, that's one thing he doesn't get to see so much from you. so in exchange for this euphoric feeling you've given him, he'll spare you just this once.

"bring them back tomorrow. i'm busy."

"but my lord, the eleventh-"

"will the eleventh bring you back to life once i rid your body of life?"

"i-i will be back tomorrow, my lord."

the padding away of feet has your mouth opening in a relieved breath. but you're more concerned about why the man behind you has stilled his movements.

the balladeer is more than convinced that since he helped you such a great amount, you owe him something—a show. which is why he's leaned back on the large seat in his office with you completely bare, bouncing on him like some cheap whore. you're not sure what's more humiliating; the fact that he's still practically fully clothed or the shameless staring at you. eyes raking over your body as you move on top of him. your nails are digging into the fabric resting on his shoulders for balance, but the way his hands are holding your waist is more than enough to keep you in place.

but you are much too slow for his liking today, and he wants to pump you full as much as possible, as soon as possible. so he's almost throwing you down, pushing your leg up, and sliding back in with ease. his kiss is as harsh as he is, full of moans and tongues clashing, but it only fuels that heat in your belly as he picks up his pace. you're whining about how you need to cum, begging pathetically for your release. the only answer you get is rough circles to your clit once again as your eyes roll back, noises being silenced by the balladeer's other free hand pressing against your mouth. after all the stupid crying you do, you do absolutely nothing to actually try to shut the slightest bit up from your orgasm, so annoying.

he'll shake you awake, then tell you to fuck off from his office. you'll redress in silence and head for the door, but hell stop you just before you leave. before you can question, his lips are hot on yours once again, pressing your back against the wood as you slide your hands into his hair. you can swear you hear him groan as you grind your hips forward, but he'll pull back regardless. his fingers will adjust the collar of your shirt you can never seem to get right, then usher you out once the large hall is clear. he'll stare at the spot you just left, eyes practically burning holes in the carpet with a strong scowl on his face. he can still feel your skin against yours and it pisses him off. he misses it.

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀FRESH LOVIN' w/ CHRIS.

NOTES .ᐣ ana writing chris ????? its a literal miracle..... yeah hes been lookin a little too good lately... also ive been thinking of this for weeks now so uhh yeah !

WARNINGS .ᐣ p in v. uhhh dirty talk. afab!reader. no protection 🙀. im not great at writing chris i dont think... better at writin matt but i tried.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS AROUSING AS IT WAS to see you wearing his merch. chris gives you the pieces you like for free anyway, you're his girlfriend—half of the time you help with the designing process anyway. so he's used to seeing you in.. well, his brand. the sight of 'fresh love' written across your chest is nice, he likes it a lot, but he's used to seeing it when you're with him. you'd told him plenty of times that the hoodies and shirts are super comfortable, so you wore them often.

so that is exactly why he was so confused as to why the sight of you modelling his merch made his dick as hard as it did. it wasn't.. that different. was it? he doesn't get it. maybe it's the professionalism of the photos, or just how official it all is. that's his girlfriend wearing his brand. no one else's—just his. a funny feeling fizzes in his abdomen, a warm feeling flooding his chest. both of those things at the instance he sees your pretty body wearing something he created.

his baby wearing his baby—that kind of thing. its corny, sure, but still. it made his head all murky and fuzzy, and his jeans tighten around him so uncomfortably it was impossible to ignore it. being at the photoshoot was a fucking nightmare, let alone seeing the photos all over instagram. people loved the photos, of course they did, you looked really good in them, and yeah, he loved them a lot too. which was why it was agony going on any social to find the exact thing that gives him a raging hard-on.

it was merely a coincidence that you'd walked in wearing merely a fresh love shirt and not much else. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip for a moment with his eyes raking up and down your figure. matt and nick weren't in, the entire reason you were wearing so little, so.. it wouldn't be completely wrong of him to have you bent over the couch due to your little get up, right? he's hoping so, since that's the only thing clouding his brain right now.

"actin' like you're not just as bad as me," he mutters, scoffing in return as you'd done previously. "actin' like your panties ain't soaked."

"you're starin'," he glances up at your words, his blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before a smirk flits at his plush lips. yeah, of course he's staring. your nipples are hard beneath the cotton of the shirt, poking out a little and drawing his attention directly to them. soon, his eyes drop down to the curve of your ass beneath your underwear. slowly, he slides his hand down to adjust himself over his sweats with a quiet grunt.

"can you blame a guy?" chris murmurs, biting his tongue for a minute before he looks you up and down. "bein' such a fuckin' tease walkin' 'round like that," you scoff at his words, a soft smile playing on your own lips. a tilt of your head, and you're looking him up and down too. he looks good, he always does, but he does look really good. folding your arms beneath your chest, you lean against the kitchen island. "we both know you're soaked, baby." his words are practically a growl.

"you ain't got any proof," you grumble, feeling a surge of heat pool between your legs despite your own words. he wasn't wrong, you know, and he knows that too. all you wanted was to make something to eat, albeit wearing the least amount of clothing possible, but sure.

his smirk widens, "no? do you want me to check?" he knows you're wet, he can see it. from the way your thighs press together and how you're a little stiff whilst wandering around. all tell tale signs that you're just as horny as he is. "you're drippin', baby. don't even try to pretend with me," chris is quiet for a moment, before he pushes up off of the couch slowly. his eyes rake over your frame, and it only makes you feel more flustered in a way.

"don't gotta check 'cause i ain't wet," you mumble immediately, your skin warming up. you're lying through your teeth right now, and chris knows it. he knows you better than literally anyone, even if you don't want to admit it. trying to focus your mind on anything other than well, that, you turn away to open up the fridge and get something to eat. chris is making his way over, eventually standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

chris chuckles quietly, a low and rich sound. wandering a little closer to you, he stops right behind you with a click of his tongue. you shiver almost immediately when his hand slides over your side, skimming towards the swell of your chest. "liar," he murmurs, letting his nose trail along the skin of your neck lazily as he draws you a little closer to him. "you're always drenched for me, just as much of a mess as i am."

your eyes flutter over to him for a second before you swallow hard, "ain't a liar," you insist, head tilting to the side a little bit at the feel of his head by the crook of your neck. but back to the food, you tried to will yourself, as you bent over to grab a cutting board from a lower drawer. "yeah, can feel you pokin' my thigh with that ragin' hard-on of yours." chris scoffs at that, corners of his lips flitting up at the corners in a lazy smirk.

"s'not exactly a trade secret, is it?" chris mumbles with soft amusement, leaving gentle, warm kisses over the skin of your neck. his hands roaming gently over you doesn't stop him from pulling you back into him. he presses up against you as you're bent over, slowly rocking his hips up against you with a small, strained noise escaping him.

"you feel what you do to me, princess?" was pretty hard not to.

a soft gasp followed by a soft moan escapes you, "chris—" and you grasp at the drawer to keep yourself steady. a shaky breath slips past your lips and you feel it soon hitch in your throat. "don't," in the kitchen? matt and nick could walk in at any moment, you knew, but chris seemed like he didn't care at all, actually.

"don't what, baby?" he coos, taking a breath as he slowly alides his hands down to your hips. at the same time, his own hips grind enticingly into your ass, his aching erection pushing up against you. he needed you so bad. there, in the middle of the kitchen, he shamelessly grinds up against you. "don't what? don't touch you, don't make you feel good, don't love you?"

you let out this pretty moan, folding your arms beneath you to lean up against the counter. "no, no, no—mmh," you wanted him to keep going, you knew he'd make you feel good, he always did. made it his mission, actually. chris grind at your words, head tilting to the side a little bit now. "keep goin', please," well, you don't have to ask him twice, he'd do anything you asked of him.

"mhm.." chris hums quietly, considering whether he should take off the shirt so he can get his hands all over you before he decides not to. the shirt's the appeal, seeing you wearing something he made. fucking you in something he made. "keepin' this on," he adds, letting you know what was going on in his head.

as much as he'd usually keep you waiting, he was far too pent up to do so now. he lets go of your hips momentarily, his free hand moving to his sweats already hanging low on his hips to push them down a little bit to free his cock. a groan escapes him at being exposed, and he shuts his eyes for a minute when he wraps his hand around at the base and gives himself a languid stroke. he could get off right here at the sight of your ass clad in pretty panties pushed up against him like that, but the warmth of your cunt was a safety he couldn't deny.

"probably soaked all the way through these panties of yours, huh?" at the sound you let out, he smiles a little more, his hand slipping inside your panties almost immediately to test his theory. his fingers slowly start to brush against your clit, feeling how slick you are from just his words alone. "told you," you're sopping wet, and he loves it. his head tilts to the side a little, and he applies a little more pressure before gliding his fingers through your slick folds. biting his bottom lip at your sounds, he groans.

"chris, shit," you mewl softly, hips slowly bucking up towards his fingers as he pushed them up against you. he lets his thumb brush against your entrance, gliding over it easily before he glances back over at you. "that's it, let me feel you," for a few long moments, he makes tight circles over your bundle of nerves before his impatience gets the best of him. "feels so good—"

"i know, mmh, gotta feel you, baby," he tells you, tugging down your panties in a swift movement. you gasp quietly at the cold air hitting against your warm folds, and secondly at the feel of his cock pushing against your entrance. he's gentle, always is, his free hand moving to hold you steady at your hip. "you alright?"

you swallow hard, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding desperate as all hell. "uh, yeah, yeah," you nod, shifting your hips back against him to feel him properly. a laugh escapes chris, and he hums, slowly easing himself inside you with a little buck of his hips. his hand moves to join his other one at your hips and he groans gutterly, eyes squeezing shut. "so fuckin' tight, baby."

"holy shit," you're clenching on him like a damn vice already, a moan escaping you as well in a similar fashion to chris'. he takes his time with it, lifting his hand from your hip to place it on the kitchen counter and grasp at it to keep him steady. he soon enough buries inside you to the hilt, hands roaming over your hips and ass, occasionally squeezing as he looks you up and down.

"such a dirty little thing, aren't you?" slowly, he shifts his hips back so just his throbbing tip is inside you, before he snaps his hips forward again so he's back to where he was moments prior. the sounds you let out practically have him coming right there, but he's got enough restraint to hold on for maybe a few minutes more. "lettin' me fuck you in the kitchen against the counter, knowin' anyone could walk in."

his words barely register to you with how he thrusts in and out of you, practically molding your insides to fit him, taking him so good like you do every damn time. "chris, mmh—! feels so.. ah, shit—!" your tits bounce beneath the fresh love shirt, drawing his eyes there almost immediately. he moves his free hand to cup your chest, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples and pinching momentarily.

"can't even think straight, can you? too busy thinkin' 'bout my cock, mmh.. i know it feels good, baby, feels right," chris keeps up the pace of his thrusts, practically pounding you up against the counter. "feels so, fuckin', good," he punctuates each of his words with a sharp buck of his hips, but making sure that you didn't hurt yourself in any way and holding you up.

"can't.. think straight," you agree breathily, practically panting with every push of his hips and feel of your pussy tightening around him. you shut your eyes, lashes fluttering as you practically squeal around him. "can't think straight, that's right. just focused on makin' a mess on my cock," and making a mess you were, feeling that burst of pleasure as he brought you over the edge.

soon, he got there too, the movements of his hips stuttering as he let out out a low sound, finally coming to a stop once he'd stuffed you full of his cum. "did so good for me," he murmurs. eyes darting up to yours when he managed to coax your eyes open with his hand. "did perfect.."

"yeah?" you ask, voice all airy and breathless. you feel so warm and fuzzy, a bliss washing over you. with a soft sound, you relax against the counter with his help and the feel of him easing out of you. his eyes dart down to his release leaking out of your hole, and he hums quietly, letting his hand trail back down and circle his thumb around the mess he'd made for a moment.

"and i thought you were hungry, baby."

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[cloudystevie]

pavlov's dog

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pairing || mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 1812

summary || he kept you waiting and it's his honour to make it up to you.

warnings || smut! loosely depicted mafia business, daddy kink, oral fem receiving, pet names, begging, mild degradation, dacryphilia, pussy slaps, cmnf, subspace, dom!bucky

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hi. i haven't written for more than a year and a half. ive been feeling some type of way about bucky and maybe getting back to writing mindless porn is what i needed to get my creative fulfillment ive been severely lacking. please don't mind the potentially choppy smut as i haven't written in a long while. feel free to reblog and leave comments!!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

8:53.

8:53 PM, and you were still waiting for Bucky to finish his meeting. A recent competitor was threatening Bucky’s monopoly in New York, apparently, something to do with some guy who owned a publishing company inherited by his grandpa, who was looking to buy one Bucky already owned.

Whatever. You weren’t really listening when Bucky was talking about it over the phone because you were too busy keeping his cock warm.

You watch the digital clock flash another minute, and finally, your phone dings with an activity notification at the front door. Before you can try to be chill about it, you all but run to the door to greet your man, practically jumping on the balls of your feet with excitement. The door swings open, and you barely glimpse Bucky's tired and frustrated expression before it morphs into a sweet smile reserved for you, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and shine. 

Running into his arms, you koala hug him as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. He expertly toes his shoes off while showering you with the same attention. “Were you waiting by the door for me the whole time, baby?” He asks with a smile.

Nodding your head yes and widening your eyes while twisting your lips into a pout, you decide to play the sweet, patient girlfriend who Bucky knows you really aren’t. “You kept me waiting for 4 whole hours, Jamie, 4 hours. I stood right by this door and didn’t take a single break until you came home.” 

A hearty laugh escapes his lips at that, and you can feel the tension from his shoulders leaving as you gently rub them while still managing to cling onto him as he maneuvers you two to your bedroom. Unfortunately, both of you are well aware that patience is a virtue that you very simply do not possess.

“My poor, incredibly patient and honest baby. How rude of me to keep you waiting like this, huh?” He keeps his voice low, both in pitch and volume. It sends a tangible shiver down your spine as he sets you down on the bed. You bite your bottom lip, subconsciously spreading your legs, unable to hide your reactions from him.

Bucky loves how responsive you are to him.

“So mean to me daddy.” You whisper, “need you to make it up to me.”

Bucky licks his lips and clenches his jaw because fuck he needed this, especially after being stuck at his office for nearly 4 extra hours while you were at home looking like this. So sweet and soft and submissive for him; all he needed was someone to control because his empire in New York was being tried.

But Bucky had it under control. He always did. This wasn’t the first time he had to deal with a newcomer who decided to get a little ballsy and try and take over some of his territory.

He always did fuck you more aggressively when work had more hiccups than usual.

“Yeah, honey baby? How do you want Daddy to make it up to you? Use your words.” Bucky’s tone kept dropping, getting deeper and deeper with each delicious word he spoke to your somehow already foggy brain.

Even while he was giving you some control, he managed to maintain dominance over you, and that just flared the heat pulsing between your thighs.

“Need you, daddy, want your mouth.” You whisper, heat spreading your cheeks as you voice what you want, but a surge of pride goes through Bucky. At the beginning of the relationship, you had really struggled with voicing what you wanted, whether it was something like telling him you didn’t feel like getting dolled up to eat at a luxury French restaurant and wanted some burgers instead or how you struggled to say to him you wanted him to take his shoes and coat off before he came inside your apartment and sat on your couch. He dealt with people who feared him every day, people who never corrected him or crossed him. It was made abundantly clear you are not one of those people; you need to tell him what to do and how to do it, and he will. Bucky would bring the moon and the stars to you if the thought ever crossed your mind.

Dropping to his knees will have to do for now, he thinks.

His large palms spread your thighs as your pliant body falls back, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the show. Bucky smiles at you with hunger in his eyes as he licks his lips once again while gingerly sliding your pajama shorts down your legs. You inhale sharply as the cool air from the open balcony doors hits your core. Bucky can’t help the rumble emerging from his chest as takes in your already wet pussy, bringing his thumb up to flick your swollen clit and messily run the tip of his finger around your pussy.  “You were waiting for me without any panties on? You’re that fucking desperate for me, sweetheart? Ready to bend over for me as soon as I walk through the door?”

You whimper at his fingers and throw your head back, nodding it desperately fast. 

“Aww, don’t go quiet on me now,” Bucky teases, “you were being such a good girl telling me what you want. Don’t stop now, angel baby.”

You whine high in your throat as you tug on his hand that is still purposefully brushing over your clit, “Please, Daddy, just- just-” 

Before you can finish your plea, Bucky licks up your slit, expertly swirling his tongue around your clit as your thighs jolt around his head, and a surprised mewl leaves your lips. “Oh god, Daddy, need more, please more,” your hands reach out to grab onto whatever you can, one hand gripping Bucky’s hair, making him hiss and buck his own hips against his tight slacks while the other latches onto the silk bedsheets.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky hums against your pussy, but to your delight, he indulges you, slipping a thick finger into your pulsing hole. Still, before you have time to react to that, he’s wrapping his lips around your swollen clit for the first time tonight and sucks on it. Making your back arch up and your legs quake as you try to simultaneously push yourself away from him but pull him closer. A near-pornographic moan leaves your swollen lips as your chest heaves. You cry out his title as he slides another long finger inside you, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on your poor little clit and soothes it with kitten licks every few seconds.

“Oh Daddy, you’re gonna- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum please, Daddy, please can I cum!” You babble, drool seeping from your lips as Bucky always manages to reduce you to a mindless, pathetic mess. It had never been easy for you to stop or slow down your orgasm, as Bucky always tended to barrel it out of you. Although you had noticed that the high that spread through your body when he permitted it was much more euphoric than the orgasms that slipped out of you.

Maybe it was something akin to Pavlov’s dog effect. Conditioning.

Bucky was aware of this fact as well. He knew your body, your mind, better than you did. 

A satisfied smirk works itself onto his lips, and he grumbles something against your sensitive cunt, enjoying the way you struggled to keep your body at bay. “I dunno, my stupid little baby, dunno if you’re desperate enough yet.” Bucky’s words vibrate against you and propel you towards your high even quicker. Your whines get more high-pitched and breathy as you struggle against your boyfriend’s relentless tongue. “I am Daddy, I am desperate. Always am for you, please, Daddy, make me cum.” You whine a bit petulantly as your orgasm is right there. But he’s dangling it above your head and forcing you to obey him. So, you try the guilt-tripping route.

Tears well in your eyes, and your lip quivers, “Please, Daddy, don’t you wanna make me cum? Don’t you wanna take care of me? Make me cum all over your tongue and make a mess? Please, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cry, tears slipping down your face, and Bucky grunts, closing his eyes as he tries not to cum in his pants at the sound of your breathy pitch and the sight of tears slipping down your face.

He pulls back and curves three fingers toward your special spot, and takes his other hand to slap at your swollen clit in quick succession, making you squeal. Arousal paints your thighs as he quickly switches back to overstimulate your poor button by sucking on it so hard that your orgasm squirts onto his bearded face, making him groan in appreciation as he mumbles something like: “That’s it, there’s my good girl making a fucking mess like Daddy taught you.” But you are too out of your mind to really process his words as you struggle to breathe down from your high, tears slipping down your face as you bask in the overwhelming feelings of such an intense orgasm. 

Bucky kisses up your thighs and stomach, easing his fingers out and tongue away slowly so you don’t go from overstimulated to zero all at once. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheeks as he shushes you, bringing you down from your high with soft words and coos that appeal to your clouded brain. You cup his much larger hands in yours, pouting your lips up for a kiss, and he chuckles before placing a soft kiss against your swollen lips. He can taste the salt from your tears, and it sends even more blood rushing straight to his dick as he ruts his hips against yours, making you pull your lips apart on a mewl. 

“Daddy, will you fuck me now?” You ask with a certain lilt to your voice. Bucky scoffs before pressing his lips to yours and rumbling against your lips, “You’re an insatiable little whore you know that?” 

Manhandling you to the top of the bed, he throws you against the pillows as unbuttons his slacks and pulls his hard cock out, pre-cum oozing from the swollen red tip as he looks like he could destroy you. “I’m your little whore daddy.” You tease, spreading your shaky legs apart, and he licks his lips.

—--------

Bucky worked from home the next morning. Needing the extra time to make up for the late nights and the particularly strenuous activities that led into the early morning hours. 

As you sat on his lap, peacefully dozing in and out of sleep, he knew he had made the right choice that morning.