#Writers feedback

[dancingwiththeplanets]

I love your writing!! Chapter 3 of The Vow was so good, i hope you continue!

Thank you so much 🥹🥹❤️

There's definitely more to come! Can't leave Din's sweet girl dangling on the edge like this!

[rosey-tta]

is it a controversial topic to say that making the reader's appearance overly detailed, giving them a title and a overly detailed backstory (mary sue backstory often), focusing more on their pov which reveals their personality heavily that some readers would NOT relate too, not making it poc friendly, saying it's gn but using personal pronouns and characters calling them gender specific nicknames (princess/ baby girl...etc), is it controversial to say you didn't write an x reader fanfic but an x OC and you're tricking us to read it?? lmfao i think people have the right to be mad ESPECIALLY if it's not gn or poc friendly when you claimed it was... like i love writers and i appreciate the works ALL of you are putting yall are awesome for giving us this fanfics but PLEASE BFR

if your (y/n) is someone the reader can't relate to it's not x reader. simple as that. idk why ppl are scared of saying this.

PS; i deleted a stupid reply that got mad at x black!reader for being exclusively for black people when black/poc friendly fanfics are already a minority when the harmful majority is very european centered (white people specifically) and even very anti black in some cases. don't twist my post to be fucking racist/sexist/homophobic/fatphobic or ableist because that's not what i'm talking about at all ffs. to the poc and other minority creators who are writing for their people and for unconventional, non-white beauty standards i love you, you're amazing and a straight up war veteran in some of these fandom, geez. (this is for context if anyone looks at the replies. and to tell yall to be decent human being cuz some of you are bold ASF.)

PS 2; i didn't want to address this but, some people pointed out that writing ambiguos x reader is impossible and hard. that's not the case at all, look at the most popular fanfics in a fandom x reader. they ARE ambiguous and general stuff! such as jealousy headcanons, general dating headcanons, prompts, general kinks or the like.... why? because you didn't give the reader too many details or made them mfing black widow or madoka kaname, who'll be relating to that???? you might say "oh i'm writing for myself" or "this is my self-insert don't like it don't read" cool, we all have self-inserts. stop tagging it as x reader however. that's it. tags exist for a reason, and you not using it properly is your problem not the readers who have been misled.

Ps 3 PLEASE READ: ❗❗❗

I read what other people opposing this post said and I absolutely get how difficult it is to write for ambiguous readers. I'm deeply sorry for making it seem as though I'm berating writers when I don't share my work here on tumblr. My post was NOT meant to insult creative writing OR to say that putting the slightest bit of detail on your headcanons, fanfics, scenarios etc is a terrible thing because I assure you it's NOT. But please for the love of god tag your work correctly. THAT'S IT. And give warnings and heads ups about what your writing contains. If it has fem!reader only tag it as fem!reader, if there's mention of physical characteristics specific to one race others or group may not relate to PLEASE give a warning. I know the content here on tumblr is free and I like many here are SUPER grateful for it.

I don't appreciate entitled readers and ik how frustrating it is to get backlash from something that you do for free and it brings you immense joy, but please remember your work is also public and by that it WILL be subjected to criticism and feedback however it may be. And of course I'd never support harrassment or rudeness on any party giving or receiving feedbacks.

Remember that tags and warnings exist for a reason and you're free to write WHATEVER as long as you publicize it keeping in mind the target audience you're reaching. Of course people will not be happy if you state your work is something that ultimately isn't. But imo if you give a prior information then no one should harrass or demand of you anything. This post was made to address the lack of honestly with certain content, the non-poc friendly fanfics and MY PERSONAL OPINIONS. You're free to agree and you're free to disagree.

I read the replies and tags and I understand both sides of the argument, but I also needed to clarify what this post is NOT about. Of course any harrassment or rude comments will be ignored. You're free to have your opinions and preferences and free to say them as long as it isn't problematic.

I also removed the x reader because I understand how it would be hypocritical of me but I truly needed to get people's opinions on a wider scale. Again I apologize if I offended everyone and if I came off as rude or entitled i promise you that's not the case, And you can't even say I think the fanfics should be centered around me since most with the unconventional beauty standards and personality within them do not match me in any way and that's okay 💁‍♀️

[zephyrd17]

Helloooo a quick question for all the fanfic enjoyers out there!

Please reblog for sample size!

[royalarchivist]

I say this in the kindest way possible, but I think this style of prose is more appropriate for a personal account rather than an update account. I have no idea who's being talked about half the time. 🥲

[ Tumblr meme via @mikaikaika ]

[nuka]

I think what makes Our Flag Means Death so remarkable in terms of representation is not just the broadness of it, but the depth.

We have an indigenous lead character, but he's not only that. He's also queer. He's a romantic interest. He's middle-aged. His arc portrays surviving trauma and abuse. It also portrays mental illness. And it portrays breaking free from toxic masculinity. And it never tries to put him in a box when he explores his masculinity and femininity.

We have a non-binary character, played by a Puerto Rican NB actor, but their arc is not about their gender identity and their coming out is simply a case of "Just keep calling me Jim". They have a romantic/sexual relationship with a black character, and never is this relationship or either of their sexual orientations or Olu's sex appeal as a fat person or "who even is the man in this relationship hahaha" questioned. When they get into a poly relationship, it's just accepted, instead of questioned or even defined.

These are just a couple of examples. It's not that Our Flag Means Death is the only or the first show with queer/BIPOC/disabled representation, because it's not. What makes the show remarkable is the unique combination of queerness, ethnicity, age, disabilities, life experiences, etc. that each character carries within themselves, yet none of these characters exist solely to appear as representation of any minority on screen. Their identities are not glued onto them, they're ingrained, but in the end, they're just people. Just like in real life. Identities do not work as plot points. Being queer is not a plot point. Being non-binary is not a plot point. It's just a small part of the whole complex experience of life.

OFMD is a perfect example of telling a queer story that doesn't focus on telling a story directly about the queerness itself. Because we have stories about queerness already. We have so many of them that it just feels like tokenism at this point to see yet another story about coming out or forbidden love or anything like that, even if it's well made.

This show took me by surprise with every new way of representation it offered, because each time it did the total opposite of what I expected. It took all the tired tropes and said, "Yeah, see these? We're not gonna do any of that." It delivered something I never thought I'd see on screen.

It never explains the characters' identities to the audience. It simply shows them exactly the way they are and lets you decide whether you see yourself in them, and I think that also allows the audience to question their own identities, to explore gender and sexuality freely without immediately putting labels on things.

People who never thought they might be trans or non-binary or queer in any way discovered their identities through the show. People who struggle with mental illness or trauma saw someone like themselves portrayed with kindness and respect on screen and were finally able to extend the same kindness to themselves. People who are always left out of romantic stories because of their age or body shape or the color of their skin finally saw themselves portrayed as desirable and worthy of love and romance.

That is why so many of us feel that, in the words of Ruibo Qian: "OFMD woke me up."

[writingwithfolklore]

When to Reject Feedback

              Last post I talked about taking suggestions from editors, so today I'm talking about when not to take their (or other readers') suggestions. While your readers may have a lot of experience and wisdom, ultimately you know your story best and you know what you want it to be.

This is also the first step, know your work, know exactly what you want it to be before you reach out for feedback. This way, you know what suggestions are helpful, and which are leading your story to a place you don't like.

                I’ll start with a story. I wrote a short creative non-fiction in one of my creative writing classes about grappling with my family dynamic before and after my Grandma (and our matriarch) was hospitalized. I intentionally left parts of it vague—how was I supposed to distill all my thoughts and feelings and the history of my family in a simple enough way for others outside of my family to understand, when I was in my family and hardly understood it? I thought the vagueness gave room for a conflict of love and rejection. Alienation and belonging. I didn’t want to force the reader to feel anything concrete or specific about my grandma, I hardly knew how I felt about her.

                I took this piece to my prof, and she advised me that it would benefit from more specific details. Some things she suggested adding were histories I wasn’t privy to—either I hadn’t been born yet, or I hinted to knowing but only really from context; I wasn’t in the room.

                I took her advice and rewrote it with these more specific details. I had to make up some stuff, which I didn’t really like, but she loved it.

                Next semester, I took the same (edited) piece to a different creative writing prof in a different class. She read it, told me she liked it, but that it could benefit from a bit more room for interpretation—from some vagueness.

                I laughed and told her that I agreed, and pulled up my original draft. She was in far favour of the original.

                TL;DR, this is all to say that I don’t believe in taking all advice as gospel. Some people will absolutely love the way you’ve written it, others will think it needs changing. These two profs were both incredibly experienced, published authors who had won awards, gone through masters degrees, etc. etc. They were both very credible people to go to for advice.

                But they had slightly different sensibilities when it came to writing, and while I didn’t agree with everything my second prof said, I did err more towards her way of writing than the first. Emphasis on the ‘not agreeing on everything’, that little part of me that disagreed is my unique writing sensibility.

                So seriously, reach out to people for feedback and advice, but that by no stretch means you have to take all of it. If there’s a part of your writing that you really love, that you did intentionally, and that you feel is integral to your work you’re allowed to keep it. There will be readers who like it as it is.

[1wh4re1]

Okay so more Ghoap x F!Reader. Just a blurb. Also, these will definitely be in whatever order inspiration strikes me first.

You're covered in sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to your face and you swear you swear you can still feel your left side despite the epidural. You've been at this for what feels like days despite it being less than 10 hours.

This wasn't how you imagined the birth of your baby. One partner whose remains had drifted over that beautiful cliffside and the other god knows where who chose to walk away from you. Still, you are grateful for the man holding your hand beside you now.

John Price never imagined he'd be in this situation. Your hand gripping his (quite painfully god your grip is strong), and him wiping away your sweat and tears. He knows he isn't the man who should be here and he knows that he shouldn't have sent Simon to chase a lead so close to your due date even though the man doesn't even know you're pregnant at all.

He watches you flush, tears leaking from your eyes through another round of pushing, and thinks he is quite possibly the biggest bastard on earth for keeping this secret for you.

You're exhausted. Worn out. Dead beat tired. The doctor between your legs encourages you. Only a few more pushes she says and you're almost there. You sob, heaving breaths as more tears stream down your face. Squeezing Price's hand you start to push again, praying that this is the end.

The relief of hearing your baby cry for the first time is overshadowed by the blood rushing through your ears and the wooziness you feel. You can't make out what the doctors are saying.

"What...what are they saying," you slur, tongue feeling heavier than lead in your mouth as you roll your head over to look at Price. "Where's my baby, why can't I see my baby?"

Price tries to reassure you but the room is erupting into chaos around him. The monitors attached to you start to wail.

"BP is dropping."

"She's hemorrhaging."

"We need an OR stat. Page them and tell them we are on the way."

"Sir, we need to move her please go to the waiting room."

The last thing you feel is Price's hand leaving yours before you slip under into a cool abyss.

@thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99

[snixkers]

Control Freak

Pairing: Emily × Fem Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT

Smut with a plot

For: @d33pd3sire-blog

Content Warnings: need for organization, fingering, heavy kissing, petting, pet name (baby), no use of Y/N, slight dom/sub relationship

Summary: You're a control freak, but a night with Emily changes that.

Author's note: First time writing smut! Let me know how it is!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN

The desks of the bullpen were always neatly organized, in rows and sections demanding respect. The surfaces were clean with only a few personal items, but even those were kept to the side to make room for the work they had to do.

You sat down at your desk, straightening your pens out and making sure the logo of your mug was facing you. Across the divider, Emily watched you curiously.

"So, the organizing. What's up with that?"

You shrugged, already used to this question after dealing with it your whole life.

"I just like having everything in its place. Makes me feel in control."

You smiled softly at her and turned back to your computer, completely missing the way her eyes gleamed when you mentioned control.

----

Every time you traveled for a case, you were ready to head home immediately. Your clothes were wrinkled, the coffee there wasn't made the way you wanted, and most importantly, you weren't in your own space.

Emily set her duffel bag down on her side of the room, pulling her items out and tossing them onto the bed. You wrinkled your nose at the lack of organization but held your tongue for formalities.

She offered you the bathroom first, and you jumped at the opportunity to clean up before bed. After a long shower, you pulled on your pajamas, ready to flop onto the bed.

But when you left the bathroom, she started to laugh. You took a second to realize it was at you and your pajamas, bristling with indignation.

"There's nothing wrong with them!"

She shook her head, unable to wipe the smirk off her face as she watched you take a seat on the edge of the bed, following suit.

"I know nothing's wrong. I'm just not used to seeing you in anything less than business casual."

You rolled your eyes at that sentiment, although she did have somewhat of a point. It wasn't like you were a robot, but you certainly didn't like to make mistakes.

"I'm not Hotch, Emily. I relax every once in a while."

Her smile changed, turning almost predatory as she leaned imperceptibly closer.

"So there are times you like to give up control?"

You swallowed the sudden nerves down, the hairs on the back of your neck rising at the sound of her voice.

"I do, sometimes."

You hated the way your voice trembled and hers deepened, but you certainly couldn't deny the effect it was having on the both of you. She scooted closer to you, her eyes piercing yours.

The two of you stared at each other for what felt like ages, sizing each other up before your lips pressed together.

It was gentle at first, but quickly burned hotter as both of you realized just how much you wanted this. You wrapped your hands around the back of her neck and she settled hers on your hips, stroking the flesh gently.

You broke away from her and accidentally glanced at the mirror. You looked slightly breathless and disheveled, and you hated the sight.

She frowned softly as you pushed her away, but she wasn't going to push you for more.

"What's wrong?"

You sighed, not wanting to sound childish, but also knowing she could see right through any lie you could come up with.

"It's nothing to do with you. I just don't want to look messy."

She reached out to stroke your hair back into place, impossibly gentle with her touch.

"I promise when I'm done with you, I'll clean up the mess."

You shivered at the words, a surge of heat running through you. Wordlessly, you pulled her back in, as if to say 'Here's my trust. Now please alphabetize my organs.'

She grinned into the kiss, her teeth grazing your lower lip lightly before she slipped her hands just below the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

"I know it doesn't feel like it, but you're the one in control here."

You nodded, shimmying out of your pants and underwear as best as you could and kicking them off to the side. She sat you up on the bed, pulling your back flat against her chest.

She pressed kisses to the back of your neck, surprisingly gentle compared to the hands that were desperately wandering along the rest of your body.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror as Emily spread your legs apart, staring between your legs with a fierce hunger. The heat surged through your core, and she chuckled as if aware of the effect she had on you.

Emily traced the tips of her fingers down over your belly and around your thighs before finally settling on the one place you wanted her to touch the most.

You let out an embarrassingly loud sigh as she applied pressure to your clit, sending a shock up your spine. She grinned at the noise, circling carefully and watching to see what you liked best.

She kissed the side of your neck, meeting your gaze in the shared reflection. "See? You're in control, baby. You can see everything I'm doing."

You tried to reply, but all that came out was another moan as she increased the pressure against your nub.

She smirked, slipping a finger down towards your entrance. You nodded eagerly, desperate for more. You needed her to tell you what to do, and you wouldn't ask any questions.

Her finger slowly slipped inside your entrance, and she exhaled at the feeling of you around her. Your reaction was much less subtle, thighs squeezing together.

She shook her head, carefully prying your legs apart. "I want to see you. All of you."

You nodded, the dizzying pressure of her fingers pumping causing you to see stats. Clutching the sheets, you watched yourself turn into a mess at her touch. Shockingly enough, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be.

She traced your shoulder, contrasting her second finger currently sliding into your wetness up to the knuckle. Your back arched at the sensation, silently begging her for more.

The pace of her fingers increased with your moans, and the continued circling of your clit had you writhing in her arms, at her mercy.

Luckily, she took pity on you, continuing her ministrations and pulling you closer. "Go ahead and cum, baby."

You let out a choked moan, fluttering around her fingers as you reached your high, your head falling back onto her shoulder.

She smiled widely, easing you down from your climax and pulling her fingers out of you.

"Was that okay?"

You could do nothing but nod in agreement, unable to put into words how much you wanted to do that again. As if sensing your exhaustion, she grabbed you a glass of water.

After sipping it gratefully, you curled up on the mattress and were out as soon as you wrapped yourself in her arms.

----

You were feeling much better as you headed into the precinct the next day, ready to tackle the case with a fresh perspective.

Working with profilers had its downsides, however. Rossi and Hotch noticed after seeing a wrinkle in your shirt. Reid and Morgan figured it out when you shrugged calmly when the precinct ran out of coffee, instead of grumbling. Even JJ realized something was up as you sat down in the crickety old chair, a smile on your face.

Reid raises an eyebrow as he stirs his ridiculously sugary coffee, glancing over at the area you had set up.

"You forgot your normal mug."

Your eyes widened as you realized you were in such a hurry you had left it in your hotel room, but there wasn't much you could do about it now.

"Oh, it's not a big deal."

The team stared at you in surprise, and you sank in your seat, trying to avoid Emily's smug smirk.

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[megamindfandombookclub]

[dancingwiththeplanets]

Hello!! I’m not sure if you take requests but I just read your fic about mando and the forced marriage and I fell in love!! Can I request a part 3 or if you’d rather do a seperate fic that’s okay too! Just some more yando mando cause you’re writing is so detailed and well said!! ❤️❤️

Hi!! Part III is up!! 🖤 here !

Thank you so much for your support! 🥹🥹 I'd like to take requests in the future because it's fun to have fresh ideas thrown out at me and I feel so touched that people like my writing so much they want me to be the one to tell the story 😩❤️ that's just so sweet...

I've had a few requests come in the last couple weeks, not sure where this sudden influx came from but no complaints from me! I'll get around to stuff as soon as I can!

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy part III!

[crispycreambacon]

S-oar Wounds

— ☆ —

Warning: The fic above contains brief depictions of violence, gore and death. Moreover, the themes of this fic heavily involve trauma, specifically PTSD. If any of the following distresses you, please read with caution or refrain from clicking the fic.

The Professor finally reunites the Sword and the Oar after years of being apart. But can they even be together again after everything that happened to them?

— ☆ —

Fun fact! The Oar's piece is based on "Gifu Road Station: Godo, Nagara River Cormorant Fishing Boat" by Keisai Eisen and Utagawa Hiroshige. Another fun fact! The Oar's palette lowkey looks like the gay mlm flag while the Sword's palette looks like the lesbian flag. How fun! How gay even :3

Anyways, Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!! I hope y'all are doing swell whether you're spending today with your partner, your friends, your family, or you're simply vibing. As for me, I cooked up another fic featuring your favourite gay couple! Don't let the oar pun in the title fool ya, this is uhm. I think you can tell from the warning :D

The fic has it all! We got:

An exploration of the Sword and the Oar, particularly how they grapple with their trauma and how it affects their relationship with each other

Honest depictions of, well, life which can get ugly, and sometimes, they don't know how to handle it, but it's okay! It's part of the process

A really cute friendship between the Professor and the Oars! (Albeit the Professor and the Sword uh. Not exactly wholesome especially at the start-)

Hand-holding! And hugs. And general physical affection to even out the amount of drama radiating from this fic

A happy ending! Because they deserve it god DAMN IT

If all of that sounds like up your alley, you can click here to read the fic, click the title or search "S-oar Wounds" by crispycreambacon on AO3. This was a very interesting and cathartic piece to write, and I hope you get even a fraction of that catharsis while reading it too.

Thank you for showing interest in the fic, and even if you don't end up reading it, I hope you enjoy the art. Have a lovely day, everyone!

[becca-e-barnes]

"I'm Not Sure At All This Is Safe, But I Want To Try It Anyway."

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, masturbation, cockwarming, degradation, praise, pet names, no actual harm but there are some threats

Summary: You and Bucky try knife play for the first time

A/N: This was just a fun little piece I wrote on a plane a while ago! It was based on a fantastic prompt from a cutie so it started out as a piece with original characters, please excuse any corrections that I missed! Some feedback was taken on board after I wrote it originally (thank you for that! 💗)

PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF KNIFE PLAY MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

Minors, do not interact

“I’m not sure at all this is safe, but I want to try it anyway.”  Bucky had the gentle curl of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips running his thumb down the length of the dark handle with more than a little trepidation.

“Of course it’s safe.  It’s not like it’s too sharp.  There’s really very little risk involved if everything goes smoothly.”  You were significantly more confident than he was, at least.  It had been your idea after all.  It had taken him a little while to warm up to the suggestion, as was to be expected but he had to admit, curiosity had blossomed in him faster than he had anticipated.

“And what do you want me to do with it?” He questioned, now running his thumb along the length of the blade, the sharp edge biting into the pad of his thumb, making the instrument almost feel heavier in his hands.  It was only a couple of inches long but the gravity of what you both wanted to use it for made him all the more aware of its weight.

“Just trail it over me a little.  You’ll get a feel for it once you try it.”  Your excitement was infectious, your eyes full of mischief as you relieved him of the weight of the knife in his hands.  You weren't scared of it; in truth, Bucky thought you looked rather at ease as you gripped the pommel in one small fist, using your other hand to pull one of the straps of your bra away from your skin, sliding the metal under the fabric.

He could only watch as you dragged the knife against the thin strap and within a few seconds, the fabric gave way, the snapping elastic providing a satisfying recoil.

“Do the other side?”  Good.  A starting point.  Something to ease him into it.  The pommel was back in his hand and from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, he didn’t have long to contemplate what he was doing before you had slotted yourself back on top of him.

He mirrored your earlier actions, tugging the underwear away from your skin and sliding the flat edge of the knife underneath, just past the end of your clavicle.  The way the delicate black fabric sliced was mesmerising, coming apart under his fingertips, or rather, the unrelenting edge of the blade.

“You’re getting it.”  You hummed contently, reaching behind yourself to unhook the clasps with one hand, letting the ruined garment fall to the floor in a heap.  “Don’t over-think it.  Do what feels right but if you want to stop, you only have to tell me.”

He had to admit, there was a thrill to this that he hadn’t anticipated.  Holding the knife came with a heavy sense of control, a feeling of power and dominance that he didn’t often fall into naturally but you were now trusting him with and he didn’t want to fuck it up.

“Don’t be scared of it.  I’m not.”  It was right about then that he first recognised your arousal and felt a little silly for not having noticed already.  As you repositioned herself in his lap, you took hold of his wrists, guiding his free hand down to the apex of your thighs, letting his fingers wonder past the lace panties and delighting in how he quickly got the hint and pushed them aside.  You were dripping wet.  Even the insides of your thighs were soaked.  Clearly you were more into this than you had wanted to admit when the pair of you had first discussed it and he was now finding your arousal hard to ignore.

“You’re getting off on this?  You know how fucked up that is?”  He teased, lowering his voice and letting himself slip into the role.  His fingers trailed through your delicate folds, accumulating your natural slick before they tapped repeatedly over your clit.  He brought the blade to your skin, pressing the sharpened edge flush with your body, just under the swell of your breast in a way that he imagined ran perpendicular with your spine.

“Careful now, don’t squirm around.  You don’t want my hand to slip.”  His fingers continued their tapping motion, a small amount of give allowed between the metal and your skin as you writhed from the stimulation.

“This is perfect.  Keep going.”  Your voice was so soft, he almost missed it.  You were the very sound of breathy lust, of someone so delighted in the reality of a fantasy you had kept secret for entirely too long.

He couldn’t quite place whether it was your interest in this or the sheer power trip that was encouraging his dick to quickly stiffen between your bodies.  He surmised it must have been a combination of factors.

“I can’t believe you soaked through your panties, just from letting me trail a knife over this pretty little body.”  His tone had more bite than the edge of the knife did, for now at least.  “Do you know how filthy you have to be to want this?  Getting yourself all wet and flustered for me, just because you know I could hurt you.”

The soft moan that left your lips was everything he had hoped for.  He could see you were needy and getting more desperate by the minute, the thin line between pain and pleasure getting so blurred in your head while being denied too much of both sensations.

“Take me inside you.  I want you to keep me warm.  Try not to squirm though, and don’t even think about fucking yourself on me.”  It didn’t matter that he was rarely so demanding in the bedroom.  Tonight, he was in total control and exercising it beautifully.

You did as he asked, shifting your panties to the side once more before arranging you both so that you could slide down on his length, just as he had asked.  Bucky marvelled at the fact he slid inside you so easily, the blade removed from your skin for just a second for the sake of safety.  “Good girl, sweetheart.”  He smirked, watching your eyes roll back as you bottomed out, taking every last inch of him and claiming them all as your own.

“It’s hard to sit still.”  Your voice came out whiney, need getting the better of you, your hips rolling minutely but more than enough to get his attention.

“What did I fucking tell you?”  He hissed, his breath hot against your neck as he reached around you, trailing the blade ever so gently down your spine from midway between your shoulder blades.  “Sit still.  Don’t move.  Be very fucking careful.”  The cool metal left goosebumps in its wake and encouraged a shiver that you just weren't brave enough to allow your body to succumb to.

“Fuck, this isn’t fair.”  You were beyond desperate.  He could feel the way your body pulsed, throbbing with need around the length so beautifully seated inside you.  He didn’t deny you often and he could tell you were struggling to come to terms with it, even if it was exactly what you had asked him to do.

“Fine.  If you want to fuck yourself stupid on me, be my guest.  We both know it won’t take much.  You’re half way there already.  But if you get hurt, it’s on you.  I’ll hold the knife where I want and if you get too close, you’d better hope you can stop yourself in time.”  The calm efficiency with which he spoke was only mirrored in the way he trialed the very tip of the knife up the inside of your bare thigh, letting the metal bite into the soft flesh a little.  It never so much as pricked the skin, it was only ever enough to keep you alert and God, you needed it.

“Please, please just let me cum.”  You sobbed, giving him the softest, sweetest eyes you could muster, only to be scoffed at in return.

“Make yourself cum.  There’s nothing stopping you.  If you’re so slutty that you can’t wait, you can get yourself off.  I just won’t be awfully kind to you.”  In truth, you loved getting him like this.  Testing his limits, letting him negotiate, all the while knowing that you would get what you wanted regardless.

He watched with feigned indifference as your fingers found their way between your bodies, under your panties to rub at your own clit.

“Stupid slut.  Let me help.”  He chuckled, running the blade under the left strap, then the right, letting the frayed lace come apart under his touch.

With the panties left in tatters, your fingers only moved faster, tiny little whimpers and sobs of pleasure falling from your parted lips.  You were a vision of pleasure in those few seconds.  A pleasure that was unperturbed by the blade trailing up your tummy, up between your breasts and back down.  If anything, your pleasure was only intensified by it.  

“B-Bucky…”. You gasped and under any other circumstances, he knew you would have been horrified by how pathetic your voice sounded.

You were close.  He could feel your body tensing and tightening, fluttering like you were about to lose all control.

“Be careful.  Don’t forget about the knife.” He reminded, watching how it only made you that little bit more frantic.  He wouldn’t let it hurt you, that wasn't an option.  As you hurtled over the edge into ecstasy, he pressed it to your skin, letting you roll you hips as you sobbed out your release into the crook of his neck.  This was bliss.  Taking what you needed on your own terms while Bucky was still very much in control.  Keeping your agency while surrendering your body to his care.

“Good girl.  That’s it, I know.  I know that feels good.”  Bucky cooed softly, letting you steal your pleasure from his body for as long as possible, drawing it out to the very end. 

“Fuck me.”  You demanded, not missing a beat after your own orgasm had subsided.  “Put the knife to my throat and fuck me.”

[lonleydweller]

If you could, could you write a little drabble or fic of a yandere nubbins chasing his darling who's trying to escape?

🥀Run, run, run piggy!🥀

!warnings!: yandere trope, violence, murder, spoilers for tcm 1974, cannibalism mentioned, violence and injuries towards reader, sadism, failed escape attempt

Yanderes are OK to enjoy in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not example of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. This is for entertainment purposes

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The hot dry air of the texas summer was suffocating as you ran. The sun's golden morning rays breaking over the vast fields of sunflowers. It would have been such a pretty sight. Oh how it could have been such a pretty sight to enjoy with your friends. Shame you'd never get that opportunity now. Your lungs burned, your head pounded, your cuts stung as you hobbled along. You weren't even that far away from the house yet, in fact, you were still close enough to where you could hear the sound of clamoring footsteps on the porch behind you.

You don't know why, but you turned your head a brief moment to see. Even when you knew who it was. You don't even haft to look for more than two seconds to recognize the lanky, greasy, feral thing of a man chasing you. Your body answers your plea of flight to the best of its ability. Pushing past the pain and hobbling just a bit faster. You can hear his voice crystal clear stammering behind you.

"H- hey! W- where do you think yer gettin t-to?"

He wasn't far behind. You can hear his footsteps quickly catching up to yours. You had learned early on, during your first few attemps of escape, that he was quick. Nimble too. Any crawl space you could squeeze yourself through, he could damn well weasel his way into too. A never ending game of hunter and prey.

You can hear his stiffled giggles and squeals of excitement even over the thunderous sound of footfall. You had pushed your luck hadn't you? So desperate for escape. So desperate to be free of the stench of rotting meat, decaying bodies, dirt, grime, blood, all of it. Foul. A home built on people's bones and skin. Never able to return to their own. Nothing more than pigs lead to slaughter.

It didn't help that they even tasted like pork too. The taste had flooded your mouth when he forced you to eat the disgusting meals his brother had prepared. Shoving the vile concoctions down your throat. One night head cheese. The next chili. The next steak. Not a single bit of animal meat present. God. Why couldn't they have just killed you too. Why couldn't you have just been turned into a stew like the rest.

Instead you have to suffer a monsters sick delusion of what he thought love was. It wasn't of course, it never would be. It was torture. Of wich you were quickly reminded of as his blade made contact with your back. Tearing through your shirt and at your skin with ease. You cry out in pain, the only sound you could muster anymore. He had gained on you so quickly, and you were only growing slower.

One, two, three, more painful cuts land on your back as he makes animalistic noises of excitement. His hands feverishly grabbing at your shirt, desperate to snacth you up once more. You're barely able to put up a fight as you desperately try to pull and writhe away with what little strength you have left.

"I gotchu! I gotchu, I gotchu, I...gocthu!"

Pure glee taints his voice. He knows he's won. You do too. Even then you still flail and struggle as he wrangles you to the ground, up until you can taste the dirt road beneath you as your face is smushed against the ground. You can can feel him shift above you, quickly followed by a sweeping pain in your legs. A familiar burning feeling as he relentlessly slashes at them. It feels like forever before he finally stops with a shakey laugh.

"T- there! You can't g- get nowhere if your legs don't work c-can ya?"

You can hear him taunt. 'Pffbt! Pffbt!', the sound of him blowing raspberries like an obnoxious child only adds insult to your many, many, injuries. It was a game to him. It all was. One he won everytime. No matter how hard you tried. You can feel his arms slink around you as he hauls you to your feet. Well partially anyways, you're more at a slouch as he starts to drag you back towards the farmhouse.

You don't bother to struggle anymore. You simply can't. You can't even walk now with the condition you're in. Still he held the cold steel of his hunting knife against your neck, just to make sure. In just a couple minutes you'd be trapped inside the house again. In worse condition than before. You hadn't even gotten that far away from the house. Even if you did, where would you go? There was nothing for miles. No help for miles. No hope for miles.

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