#I found his paintings on Pinterest and I LOVE
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🟩⬛️ queens ⬛️🟩
#hey I’m actually catching up with hotd#more Victorian romantic historical inspo because you can’t stop meeeee#fire and blood#fire & blood#house of the dragon#hotd#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#emma d’arcy#olivia cooke#rhaenicent#house targaryen#minsart#my art#fanart#the dance of the dragons#fashion of ice and fire#these are based on Albrecht Frans Lieven De Vriendt btw#I found his paintings on Pinterest and I LOVE
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l'adorazione di Morticia Addams
#addams family#morticia addams#gomez addams#raul julia#angelica huston#addams family fanart#he loves his wife!!!#and his wife loves him!!#cara mia#mon cher#art#illustration#digital art#fanart#artists on tumblr#clip studio paint#csp#halloween#movie#based on this old vintage ad illustration i found on pinterest!
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101 by Sirinne
Me when I need ibuprofen ASAP
#anders dragon age#repost of art I found uncredited on pinterest and it took me 20min to find the OG artist#best resolution I could find 😔#It's a really beautiful painting and I love the expression and the artist really did his features justice (lol. pun.)#find it a little silly too be he looks like he got a really bad headache#but like in a good way#he is tormented after all#anders da2#da anders#not my art#digital painting
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hi, i ireally love your work and i don't know if you've answered this before but, what kinds of studies do you do or how did you learn color theory? i wanna get better at rendering and anatomy but im having trouble TT TT
Hi! Long answer alert. Once a chatterbox, always a chatterbox.
When I started actively learning how to draw about 10 1/2 years ago, I exclusively did graphite studies in sketchbooks. Here's a few examples—I mostly stuck to doing line drawings to drill basic shapes/contours and proportions into my brain. The more rendered sketches helped me practice edge control & basic values, and they were REALLY good for learning the actual 3D structure behind what I was drawing.
I'd use reference images that I grabbed from fitness forums, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and some NSFW places, but you could find adequate ref material from figure drawing sites like Line of Action. LoA has refs for people (you can filter by clothed/unclothed, age, & gender), animals, expressions, hands/feet, and a few other useful things as well. Love them.
Learning how to render digitally was a similar story; it helped a lot that I had a pretty strong foundation for value/anatomy going in. I basically didn't touch color at all for ~2 years (except for a few attempts at bad digital or acrylic paint studies), which may not have been the best idea. I learned color from a lot of trial and error, honestly, and I'm pretty sure this process involved a lot of imitation—there were a number of digital/traditional painters whose styles I really wanted to emulate (notably their edge control, color choices, value distributions, and shape design), so I kiiind of did a mixture of that + my own experimentation.
For example, I really found Benjamin Björklund's style appealing, especially his softened/lost edges & vibrant pops of saturated color, so here's a study I did from some photograph that I'm *pretty* sure was painted with him in mind.
Learning how to detail was definitely a slow process, and like all the aforementioned things (anatomy/color/edge control/values/etc.) I'm still figuring it out. Focusing on edge control first (that is, deciding on where to place hard/soft edges for emphasizing/de-emphasizing certain areas of the image) is super useful, because you can honestly fool a viewer into thinking there's more detail in a piece than there actually is if you're very economical about where you place your hard edges.
The most important part, to me, is probably just doing this stuff over and over again. You're likely not going to see improvement in a few weeks or even a few months, so don't fret about not getting the exact results you want and just keep studying + making art. I like to think about learning art as a process where you *need* to fail and make crappy art/studies—there's literally no way around it—so you might as well fail right now. See, by making bad art you're actually moving forward—isn't that a fun prospect!!
It's useful to have a folder with art you admire, especially if you can dissect the pieces and understand why you like them so much. You can study those aspects (like, you can redraw or repaint that person's work) and break down whether this is art that you just like to look at, or if it's the kind of art that you want to *make.* There's a LOT of art out there that I love looking at, probably tens of thousands of styles/mediums, but there's a very narrow range that I want to make myself.
I've mentioned it in some ask reply in the past, but I really do think looking at other artist's work is such a cheat code for improving your own skills—the other artist does the work to filter reality/ideas for you, and this sort of allows you to contact the subject matter more directly. I can think of so many examples where an artist I admired exaggerated, like, the way sunlight rested on a face and created that orange fringe around its edge, or the greys/dull blues in a wheat field, or the bright indigo in a cast shadow, or the red along the outside of a person's eye, and it just clicked for me that this was a very available & observable aspect of reality, which had up until that point gone completely unnoticed! If you're really perceptive about the art you look at, it's shocking how much it can teach you about how to see the world (in this particular case I mean this literally, in that the art I looked at fully changed the way I visually processed the world, but of course it has had a strong effect on my worldviews/relationships/beliefs).
Thanks so much for sending in a question (& for reading, if you got this far)! I read every single ask I receive, including the kind words & compliments, which I genuinely always appreciate. Best of luck with learning, my friend :)
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paint them for me?
pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: romance and fluff warnings: nothing besides a kiss! 18+ not proofread lol synopsis: jay watches you fondly do your nails and once you've finished, he asks you to also do his.
hoonieyun notes: some more fluff before the angst begins... hehe!
wc: 1126
one of jay’s favorite things about you was your pure love and enjoyment of getting your nails done. you often got them done by an independent artist but she had moved away and you never found anyone who was just as good and would do your nails the way you liked them.
in comes jay, who convinced you to learn how to do your own nails so that you could not only save money but also do your nails how you want them done. you were hesitant at first because you knew how much skill and patience it took but that was 3 years ago and now you’re practically a professional.
you’ve been doing your own nails ever since thanks to the encouragement of you boyfriend who surprised you with a nail kit that had everything you needed to do your nails at home and more. he even built you a station in the corner of your bedroom so you could comfortably do your nails. he loved watching you sit down and do your nails because he thought you were so cute as your brows would furrow and how you’d bite your bottom lip as you focused on doing your nails.
today, you had found a design on pinterest of some abtract lines and shapes but it was in red and since you had just done a set of red nails, you wanted a different color. you had asked jay what color you should do and after thinking about it briefly, he suggested blue, even going as far as to pick out the specific shade of blue from the various colors of nail polish he bought you.
“this one!” he says, grabbing it from the shelf with a cute smile. you thanked him with a kiss before letting him go back to his own thing. he would often just play his guitar, nap, or scroll on his phone while you did your nails. he liked accompanying you while you did your nails because you were always one to ask him for his advice, “does this look good?” or “is this cute, babe?” you’d ask him as if he knew anything about nails but everything you did was cute and so were all of the nails that you did.
it takes you about three hours to finish your nails and jay would bring you water or feed you snacks every so often to make sure you weren’t getting too tired. you showed them off to him after you had finished and he gently grabbed your hand and observed them, complimenting your nails and placing a kiss on your knuckles.
when you begin to put your things away, he clears his throat, gaining your attention. “are you tired?” he asks and you shake your head no. “why?” you ask while continuing to clean up your area.
“well.. i was kinda thinking.. can you do my nails? like yours! but not as long haha” he says shyly, scratching the back of his neck and placing a hand in his pocket.
“really?” you say ethusiastically. you’ve always wanted to match nail designs with your boyfriend but never knew if jay would be interested. you guessed that since you never asked you never would’ve known so you were ecstatic to see that he was not only down to get matching nails with you but he also asked on his own accord.
“yeah, honestly i chose this color because i liked it and wanted us to match the same colors.” he explains as you extend your hand out to him. jay grabs onto it gently as he sits across from you on the other side of your table. “aww, babe you’re so cute.” you say with a chuckle as he smiles at you endearingly. you begin to take out the items you had put away so you could also do jay’s nails.
he was very patient with you and was the best client you’ve ever had, although he was also the first and probably only client you’ll ever have. his nails took less time than your because they were short and didn’t need much work, so you were completed in no time. he watched you with hearts in his eyes as you focused on painting his nails. a smile on his lips the whole time. he loved seeing you do things you loved so if it meant getting his nails done too, why not?
“wow, they look sick baby.” he says, looking at his nails up close. “we match!” he says while flipping his hand over so the back of his hand was directedf towards you, a wide and bready smile on his face. “can i take a picture?” you ask.
“of course, baby.” he says and you take his hand once more and bring him over to the window near your bed for better lighting. you instruct him on how to place his hands after sliding on some of his rings for extra effect. you position your hand next to his as you take the photo, showing him for approval before you post it on your instagram.
“they’re amazing, baby. thank you, you’re so talented.” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss on your forehead.
“it’s nothing, babe. i wouldn’t be half the nail artist i am now if you didn’t encourage me and buy all this stuff for me.” you say with a slight pout and jay chuckles as he recalls the day he surprised you with all of this. you were beyond shocked and even shed some tears because he had gone the extra mile to do something for you that he definitely didn’t need to but because he loved you so much, it wasn’t something you ever needed to ask for.
“next time, you should choose the design too!” you say and jay nods. pulling out his phone so he could start looking for matching nails designs the two of you could do. he even adds new items and polishes into an online store so you could have more options and although you tell him what you have now is fine; you were sure that he was going to secretly put in that order anyways.
you often spent time learning of jay’s hobbies and interests, getting to know his hometown baseball team and the ways of baseball, the seattle mariner’s, learning basics on the guitar, and his neverending need to try and make new recipes; to which you’d either be his soux chef or taste tester.
it was only fair that jay also participated in one of your hobbies. another thing that the two of you could do together and bond over. even if it’s something as simple as getting your nails done.
ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy
copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3
#kiki diaries#enhypen#en-diaries#kpop#kpop au#kpop fanfic#kpop fic#kpop fanfiction#enha#fanfiction#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#park jongseong#jay x reader
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CABIN NIGHT | matt sturniolo
pairing: bf!matt x f!reader
summary: where matt takes you to a cabin in the middle of the forest for a romantic evening together.
warning: smut, sub!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, love, baby), hair pulling, protected sex
warning: smut, dom!matt, p in v, use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby), hair pulling, protected sex
a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. I haven't posted for a long time, sorry about that
WORDS: 2.3k
huhmiya on wattpad
you - pink | matt- blue
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Matt has always mentioned or asked you to come to a cabin with him, but you have always agreed and then accidentally made other plans, or he ended up having to record a YouTube video because his brother changed the timetable. As a result, you never had the opportunity.
Today, however, you both finally had the chance to go out and stay at the cabin for a few nights, just the two of you. Matt was very excited, not only because you were with him, but also because he admired a cabin in the woods where no one knew your location.
As he drove, Matt couldn't resist placing his hand on your thigh, a habit he developed when you were in the passenger seat. He never mentioned it, but once he had Chris sitting next to him in the car, and he randomly placed his hand on Chris's thigh for a few seconds, resulting in an awkward silence and Chris teasing him about it ever since. However, Matt didn't let it bother him when he was with you in the car.
The music was playing softly in the background as the two of you chatted. He glanced at you while keeping his focus on the road, and gently squeezed your thigh to get your attention. You responded with a slight hum and made eye contact before he had to turn his attention back to driving.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his tone gentle. "I know we finally have the time, but I don't want to pressure you. We can turn back if you'd rather not go."
He was eager to go, but unsure if you felt the same. The last thing he wanted was for you to do something you didn't truly want to do just for his sake. Your smile reassured him, and he smiled faintly in return, waiting for your response.
"Why wouldn't I want to?" you answered, watching his side profile as he drove.
He chuckled, his teeth peeking through, as if he thought you were joking. To him, it was clear that he wanted nothing more than to be in a cozy cabin in the middle of the woods with you.
"Have I not made it clear enough for you, sweetheart?" His words caused your eyes to roll, already knowing the answer.
Neither of you spoke, he simply rubbed your thigh and continued to listen to the navigation system guiding you both on the remaining distance until your arrival.
You gazed at his hands, noticing his painted fingernails matching yours, though his were starting to chip off due to his habit of scratching or biting them occasionally.
For the next hour or so, he drove until finally reaching your destination.
Upon arriving, he quickly exited the car to retrieve his belongings and opened the door for you before you could even reach for it, prompting a soft laugh from you.
"Thank you, but I could have done it myself," you said, though secretly enjoying the gesture without needing to express it.
"I prefer to make my girl feel like a princess rather than treating you like a slave," he whispered as he kissed your head before locking the car.
He would retrieve our luggage shortly, but first, he wanted to make sure the key was where it was supposed to be since no one else was around.
He found the key hidden under the plant pot, surprisingly untouched. Just as he was about to pick it up, he remembered the owner talking about some safety tips and details before he rent it.
"Would you like to relax while I grab our things, baby?" he inquired, scanning you from head to toe and smirking when he caught your gaze.
"Don't you want some assistance with that?" you asked, meeting his blue eyes as he simply shook his head in refusal.
You watched him for a moment, considering helping him, but he grabbed your arm and guided you back to your previous position beside him.
"Come on, y/n, be a good girl and listen to me. I don't need help with this," he emphasized, ensuring his words were clear. It wasn't just because he didn't want your help, but also because there were only a few bags to carry since you were both staying for three nights.
You didn't respond, choosing to stay where you were instead of entering the cabin alone. You waited while not helping him.
He made the task of carrying the bags to the cabin seem easier than it actually was. To him, it was no big deal.
He entered the cabin first, with you holding the door for him as he carried both of your belongings. He headed straight to the room, as he had looked it up online before renting it for a short period.
As he disappeared into a room, you took the opportunity to look around. Your fingertips brushed against the soft wood and door handles, trying to figure out the layout of the place.
"Are you exploring? Finding something interesting? What are you up to, love?" he asked upon returning and seeing you inspecting something, though he wasn't sure what.
He approached you and hugged you from behind, resting his head on yours as you took in the details of the room.
"Just looking around," you answered, rubbing his arm adorned with tattoos before starting to walk, yet he still kept his hands wrapped around you.
He wasn't as touchy in front of his brothers, as he never wanted to make them uncomfortable. He was more likely to show affection when the two of you were alone in his room, but he faintly worries about his brothers walking in and judging him for being clingy. However, when he knew it was just the two of you, he could truly relax and be comfortable around you.
You smiled and kissed his hand, as it was the closest thing your lips could touch. Soon after, you pulled away, causing him to watch you.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes focused on you. He wanted to make sure you were alright. You simply nodded and reached into the bag to get a drink of water before putting it in the fridge.
He checked you out like he had done before entering the cabin, admiring your beauty as usual, but something about you today seemed particularly appealing to him.
Without taking any action, he simply sat down on the couch, and before long, you joined him, resting your head on his shoulder. He placed his hand on your arm and gently rubbed it. "Why do you look so stunning today? You always do, but..." His words trailed off, leaving you slightly puzzled and intrigued, but he quickly laughed it off.
After a moment of silence, he felt your fingers tracing his tattoos and readjusting his shirt after. "Could you pleasure me in some way?" he asked quietly, causing you to pull away and meet his gaze as he bit his lip.
"Could you be on top?" he pleaded, continuing to stroke your arm before kissing the tip of your nose.
"Are you being serious right now? Like, actually serious?" you questioned, to which he just gave you a stern look before responding.
"Do you want me to show you my hard cock to prove I'm serious?" he asked, his accent subtly present but not overpowering.
He leaned in and gently kissed your lips, resting his head on the armchair as you slowly straddled him.
"Do you like that, baby?" you whispered, feeling his touch tender as he eagerly tried to remove your shirt.
You broke away from the kiss before he could fully undress you, his gaze fixated on your chest.
"I'm not a fan of bras, but I do love boobs. Well, some bras, at least. They can push your boobs together and drive me wild," he confessed before you silenced him with another kiss.
He groaned and returned the kiss, his hands fumbling with your bra until he finally unclasped it.
After squeezing your breasts, he pulled away from the kiss, admiring your exposed chest that belonged to him as you were his and he was yours.
"Fuck y/n," he grinned. He was acting like a child, but he didn't care. You took off his shirt, and he let you do it.
His torso was exposed, and you ran your hand over it, feeling him harden beneath you while on the couch.
His cheeks were red, and whimpers escaped his mouth as you moved on his lap. He was needy, and you could tell.
You didn't waste any time, knowing he hated being teased but also loved it, depending on his mood. But you could see he was too horny to handle any teasing.
You slowly got off him, making him a bit worried, but then he watched as you took off his jeans, causing him to bite his lip.
His pre-cum stained his boxers, but he didn't seem to care or even notice. His legs trembled slightly with need, but they weren't shaking too much yet.
You left him in his boxers as you slowly undressed, testing his patience even though he couldn't do much.
"Y/N, please, don't make me look foolish here," he whispered, glancing at you before realizing you were testing him.
He removed his boxers on his own as he watched you shed your remaining clothes. His member throbbed, and he couldn't resist the urge to pleasure himself in that moment.
You placed your hands on his knees and then ran them up to his thighs. He caught his breath and gazed at your hands.
"Are you sure you want me to make love to you?" you asked. He nodded, but then swiftly reached for his jeans, pulling out a condom from his pocket.
"Did you anticipate this?" you teased. He just shrugged and handed you the condom. You opened it with your teeth before sliding it onto his erection.
He gasped as your hand made contact with his eager member, craving your touch.
He grinned at you before gripping your hips, guiding you to straddle him on his lap since he couldn't bear not feeling your touch on his throbbing shaft.
He ensured that you were comfortable and adjusted to his size. His eyes rolled back as he restrained himself from moaning in pleasure.
"Good girl, y/n," he stammered out, noticing the mix of pain and pleasure on your face as you slowly rocked your hips.
He tried to control his excitement so that you wouldn't experience any pain after getting accustomed to it once again, as you had done many times before, and he particularly enjoyed when you were wrapped around him.
"Oh, yes," you whispered to yourself, the pain gradually giving way to pleasure.
You began to move more vigorously, which is what he desired and enjoyed. Both of you let out sounds of pleasure.
He grabbed your hair, pulling it back, causing you to close your eyes and part your lips, feeling his strong hands in your hair.
The rougher and faster you went, the tighter he held onto your hair.
Your moans were like music to his ears, which he adored. Your mixed-up breathing, as you focused on being dominant some of the time and the other on the pleasure.
His eyes glistened with pleasure, his skin becoming moist as his cock was coated in your wetness. He could tell you were close by the way you were getting rougher while riding him on the couch, your moans growing higher in pitch.
"Are you close, sweetheart?" he asked, looking at you before pulling your hair as his orgasm built up.
You nodded, both of you covered in sweat. You pushed his hair back while continuing to ride him, his hands exploring your waist.
His eyes rolled back as you began kissing his neck, causing him to moan softly from the sensation and your movements.
"Damn, I'm going to cum if you keep teasing me like that," he whispered softly, almost inaudibly.
You felt your own orgasm building, sensing Matt's cock twitching more inside you, indicating he was close as well.
A few tears welled up in his bright blue eyes, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him. He bit his lip in response to the sound of your moans, unaware that you had just reached your climax on his cock.
His eyes widened in amazement and desire, a mix of awe and lust consuming him. He felt your legs tremble slightly from the intensity of your orgasm, yet you continued to ride him with such vigor that it clouded his thoughts.
"Oh, that's it, y/n, fuck," he groaned, his hands entangled in your hair as he released into the condom.
His moans echoed louder than yours, his body arching in ecstasy as he struggled to stifle his sounds.
As you gradually slowed your movements, he finally caught his breath and was able to gaze at you intently.
"Can we do this every night while we're in the cabin?" he asked with a smirk, cheeks flushed.
"Maybe," you replied as you dismounted, leaving a trace of your essence on his member. He removed the condom, tied it off, and disposed of it in the bin.
"I can make you say yes," he says, throwing down the gauntlet. You arch an eyebrow as he winks and settles back on the couch beside you once more.
masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!
#chris sturniolo#chris x reader#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo x you#matt x reader#mattsturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matthew bernard sturniolo#christophersturniolosmut#chris sturniolo smut#chrissturniolo#christophersturniolo#sturniolos#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets imagines#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#smut imagine#chris smut#matt smut#matthew sturniolo x y/n
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An Affectionate Embrace
Masterlist Here
Characters: Buggy, Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Beckman (Art found on Pinterest)
Word Count: 650-900 per gentleman.
Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?
Notes: Since completing the "Kiss Their Cheek" for both the monster and supernova trios, I had to get a little kiss on the sea-dilfs. Considering they’re a little older and more experienced (and less easy to fluster), there’s a little more depth to their reactions.
Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, lil bit angsty, small bit of fear, bittersweet emotions.
Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine
Buggy
“Captain, you’re back!” you cried with glee, eagerly rising to your feet alongside the devoted crew. Each member rushed over to greet him, cheers and enthusiastic cries of joy sprang forth from the lips and throats of your comrades in arms.
Buggy D Clown had been away for a while, wandering throughout the seas and attempting to get back to his loyal and faithful crew. You had been searching for him for weeks, and finally at the umpteenth hour, his heavy boots found the deck of the Big Top once again.
As the first member of the crew to reach him, you flung yourself into his arms and littered his face in a flurry of rapid kisses. You adored your captain. All of the crew did. Considering the massive swell and release of emotions, you could barely contain your incessant need to wrap yourself around him and continue laying into him with peppered pecks atop his cheeks, chin, forehead and stubbled jaw.
The rest of the crew joined you in your embrace, each member attempting to get as close as they could to kiss, claw, bow and nuzzle against the captain. Giggling along with them in cheer, you felt Buggy’s expression change from joy and pride into a deep and heavy frown.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Buggy’s low tone attempted to break the crew away from their embrace. None could hear his direction over their own desire to worship their captain with their lips, arms and knees. Kneeling before him and reaching up their grabby hands, uttering “we missed you,” and “we love you, captain,” repetitively, Buggy’s body began to vibrate as his rage ignited.
“That’s enough,” he tried again, the crew not responding to his commands and continuing to mumble, babble and cry for him. You hastily withdrew yourself from his arms, adjusting your clothes and turning to your crew.
“Oi, you lot! Captain said it’s enough!” you called, booming your voice to halt the crew of their incessant repetition. “Hoist the colors, unsheath the sails, weigh anchor: prepare to make waves!”
“Aye,” the crew responded, hastily snapping out of their prior hypnosis and scrambling to follow your commands. Although you were not the first-mate, you were excellent at barking orders to the unruly crew. Turning to glance at the blushed, painted face of your captain, you smiled up and him and clapped a supportive hand over his shoulder.
“It’s good to have you back, sir,” you confessed briefly, turning away to begin your duties to set sail, “Do we have a heading, Sir- Mmfmph!” Buggy’s index finger and thumb collected your chin, hoisting you closer to him as he drew his face closer to meet with yours.
Closing the gap, your captain’s lips collided with your own, his red paint smeared over your lips and cheeks as he pressed a heavy and intentional kisses against your mouth. His hand withdrew from your chin, raking his gloved hand through your hair to draw you into himself.
“S-Sorry, Doll,” he stuttered upon his withdrawal, “It’s been a little while, and I missed you too.” Your eyes held a momentary confusion, your head shaking with a broad rise in your smile.
“You gonna kiss all the crew, Captain?” you laughed joyfully and in good humor, “Am I the lucky number one to receive a kiss from you? You want me to line them up for you, Sir?”
Where you expected to find a loud outrageous cackle at your joke, akin to one that you were always greeted with when you verbally played with your captain, what you found in it’s wake was something different. Buggy’s hands sought out your hips, drawing you closer and pressing his forehead against your shoulder.
“No,” he whispered in a voice so silent you could barely hear it, “Just you.” Reactionary, you wrapped your arms around his neck and soothed over his hair and shoulders with several soothing touches. You felt his anxiety release and his tension depart from him with a shaken movement on his shoulders. The longer he remained nuzzled against you, the more he realized he never wanted to be apart from you again.
Mihawk
The cool steel of metal clashed together, a cross-shaped window crafted between your blades as you bore your eyes into his honey-hue. Mihawk had been training you in the art of the sword, desperate for you to be a well-rounded fighter. You were no swordsperson, only minimal prior skill with a blade meant for single combat.
But Mihawk, the owner of castle Kuraigana and your superior, was a determined teacher.
“This maneuver is called ‘the talking window’,” he informed you, clicking the blade against the sharpened edge of your sword. You nodded as he continued to educate you, “This is where many a swordsman may converse, or threaten their opponent with verbal intimidation.”
Humming in response, he tested the grip on your steel with a firm shove: breaking you from contact against his blade. He lunged forward with his training sword, thrusting it out and prompting you to parry the blow.
“Try again, and see if you can disarm me with a threat while in there,” his authoritative tone almost caught you off guard. “Think on your feet. I’ll grant you a single moment there to test your words. Your job is to have me stumble enough verbally to lose my momentum in combat.”
Picking up your stance, you tapped your sword against his while you allowed your mind to produce witty and original retort. Kicking up your feet and swirling in place, your blade's edge was once again drawn against Mihawk’s as he awaited your verbal disarm.
But there was something about the way he was looking at you. His eyes held encouragement with his usual abrasiveness, a combination you were yet to find in its equal. The hue of amber decorated his honey-irises with the soft swell of the uncharted and unfamiliar. Disarmed yourself by the emergence of new emotions, your body moved against your will and pressed through the window of crossed-blades.
You sprung forward, your lips immediately finding purchase against his whiskered cheek. This small act of pure instinct stunned Mihawk in his stance, his fingers loosening around the hilt of his blade and softening against your sword.
Considering the hastiness of your own actions, you withdrew as quickly as your lips found his cheek. Your own cheeks flooded with warmth, your lips tingling with the lingering glow of the kiss, as you slunk back in your stance. After a few rapid blinks, Mihawk thrust his blade against your own, easily circling his wrist to rid your grasp over the hilt of your sword and dropping it to the ground.
“I-I’m sorry, I just-,” you began, halted by Mihawk casting his own blade down beside yours and lunging forward. He closed the distance, his hands grasping at your hips and drawing your body flush against his own. Pelvises touching, lips within distance, he circled his chin as a snake would mesmerize their unwitting and unsuspecting prey.
“-If you’re going to disarm me with something as bold as a kiss,” Mihawk purred down at you, his gaze holding you hostage under its sultry hypnotism, “Then at least do it properly, for both our sakes.”
“For both our-?” your words halted in your throat as your lips became eclipsed under the soft touch of Dracule Mihawk’s lips against your own. Your eyes widened, his lips opening and molding against yours to find a kiss as deep enough - as passionate enough - to grant you the insight to all of his pent up emotions.
Brows furrowed and hands roaming, he cradled your form against himself, succumbing to the feeling of bliss against your lips as each moment flooded into the next. Finally allowing himself the luxury of opening himself up to this genre of touch, he would never let you go. You were his, and he was yours.
Crocodile
“I have set out three towels, lotions and soaps, alongside an assortment of your usual clothes should you desire them over your current ensemble,” you nodded, gesturing to the broad chest, arms and legs of the once respectable Sir Crocodile.
His hair was greasy, his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders carried a foreign weight you had not expected to find anchoring your former boss to the floor. As Sir Crocodile’s personal assistant, you were privy to witnessing every state he found himself in. All aside from this one.
He was defeated. His spirit was broken alongside the reflective gold of his left hook. The object was littered in scratches and scuff marks, his body fairing not so different under the longevity he served in Impel Down. His eyes followed your gesture, glaring at the assortment of clothes atop the vanity cabinet before floating his eyes up to meet with his reflection within the broad mirror.
Although he was yet to utter a single word to you, his silence depicted the raw emotions swelling within the heart, spirit and soul of Sir Crocodile.
He was not who he once was.
A man broken, clawing and desperate to be freed from the confines of a torturous prison - to battle and grind through the smog of battle to once again be shepherded into your awaiting embrace. His employee, his confidant, his friend - his love. A love he was yet to express due to the nature of your occupation.
He focussed on his sinking eyes, not recognising the figure glancing back at him. His body was marked with the white and black stripes of imprisonment, his mind laying heavily on the way his body was weakened under the sea stone walls, floors and shackles. He couldn’t find his former self amongst the remains of the man he saw in the silvery reflection. Each crease of his crows feet, each silvered hair on his head, each purple circle beneath his eye was a stranger glaring back at him.
“If I may, Sir,” you began, stepping forward and hovering your hands over his shoulders in the reflection. Deciding against your better judgment, you placed your hands firmly upon his shoulders, soothing over the flesh with your thumbs. You felt him sigh into your touch, but not conform, nor fully embrace, your affectionate touch.
“You are strong,” you uttered into his ear, watching his eyes for any indication of discomfort or apprehension. Finding none in its wake, you continued uttering assurances while you caressed his flesh. He sighed into your touch, leaning into each ministration your hands provided him above his prison uniform.
“You have carved your destiny out by tooth and nail, Sir,” you assured him, paying attention to the scruff of his neck: circling your hands to relieve the stress and tension from his rapidly troubled mind, “You are the man you have always been, Sir Crocodile.”
“And who am I, Rouhi?” he whispered through his exhale, lulling his head back to lean into your palms. His eyes were shut, his forehead plagued by the trials he endured at the violent hands of the marines.
You couldn’t help yourself, your heartstrings tugging and pulling you down to press your lips against his cheek. The silvery scar cutting his eyes away from his nose,jaw and lips feeling rough beneath your lips. You allowed yourself a moment to hold him beneath your lips, feeling the tension rapidly leave him the longer you pressed this affectionate expression against his skin.
“You are Sir Crocodile,” you whispered after tearing your lips away from his cheek, “You are an influential threat that can have the world fall to their knees under your power.” Glancing into his eyes, you saw the world within their purple hue. His eyes swelled beneath their heavy torment, searching your own for more than your words had spoken.
“Is that all I am?” he whispered, his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he looked up at you, “Am I nothing more?”
“You are everything to me, Sir,” you confessed, your heart feeling lighter while the adrenaline pumped to flush your cheeks with a darkening heat, “You can take from that confession what you truly desire to make from it. For now: your clothes have been pressed, your towels have been fluffed, and your home has been made ready to receive you-.”
Lips found yours, his affectionate and apprehensive touch hungrily calling for you with each passing moment. He held his lips against you as if it was the only tether holding his form to this earth, his anchor within the harbor of an unknown land of unrestrained affection. Right hand lacing into your hair, his whimpered groan departed his lips and cried lowly into your own.
He was anew. The broken man he once was no longer found purchase within his chest. Whichever destiny he carved for himself, he would have you by his side to hold him accountable and support him in claiming his fate.
Shanks
The air was light, the jovial melodies thrust into the air at the hands of skilled minstrels. You had been dancing all night with your crew, the momentum finally catching up with you as you all found your seats for a momentary reprieve.
A laugh fled your throat as you twirled your body once more as the music decrecendoed. Applauding the talent produced at the hands and lips of the musicians, you turned to face your crew: their bodies claiming each of the empty surfaces deemed appropriate for the body to recline against. No stool, chair, sofa nor benchtop remained unoccupied as the crew found their reprieve from lengthy dancing.
“Why don’t you sit on my lap, love?” your captain chuckled at you, prompting a rise in laughter among the remainder of the crew, including yourself. “I’m far more comfortable than the chairs around here, anyway.”
“How considerate of you, Captain,” you feigned your appreciation, holding your hand to your heart and drawing out each intentional step towards his lap, “Will you wrap your arms-... -pardon, sir. Arm around me as I take my rightful place atop your mighty throne?”
Always playful and light were the interactions you had with your captain. No matter the years that passed in your longevity in servitude aboard the Red-Force, the playful rapport between Shanks and yourself was something ever present.
“I will put my arm wherever you like, love,” he chuckled, his hazelnut eyes beckoning you in as you drew yourself ever closer, “I’ll keep you safe, so long as you feed me my ale and tell me I’m pretty.”
“So pretty, sir,” you laughed down at him, sinking atop his knee while caressing your hand over his cheek, “The prettiest man that ever did live.” As you cooed into his face, you leant down and pressed a lengthy and extravagant kiss atop his cheek, feigning enthusiasm with a vocal moan while smiling.
The crew burst into a large, communal laugh that resonated within the chest of your captain. The teetered chuckles died down as the men found their drinks, your hand clasping around the hilt of Shanks’ ale and elevating it to his lips.
His eyes never left you for a single moment.
Feeling small beneath his gaze, you placed his tankard down against the table and turned to face him with your brows knit into a gruff frown.
“What, Captain?” you asked him, the anxiety elevating in your chest for each moment that continued to pass between you.
“You missed, love,” he chuckled darkly. You were puzzled, searching for a moment in your servitude that you ever missed a single target - falling short in your memories. Before you had an opportunity to ask him a follow up question, you were silenced by Shanks’ right index finger raking along your jaw and collecting your chin within the hooked digit.
“If you’re going to kiss me,” his smirk carried his dangerously playful tone, “Make sure you hit the right target.” He allowed himself to dwell in that moment of teasing, feeling you slink back atop his lap while his eyes held nothing but unbridled affirmation within their hue.
“Now give us a proper kiss, love,” he uttered before dragging your head towards him, his lips meeting your own. The room uproared into a momentary chaos: cheers, hollers and whistles rose amongst the crew the longer you held your lips against Shanks’. He chuckled against your lips, turning his head and humming against your opening mouth.
“There ‘ya go,” Shanks laughed after pulling away, “Lead with that next time, love. Makes it all less confusing for the lot of us.”
But you were left more confused than the moment you kissed his cheek. Did he like you? Did he want more? Did you want more? You would need to discuss this when the both of you find yourselves in an air of sobriety, that was for certain.
Beckman
The storm scattered your face with a flurry of ice-splinters of frozen rain.The Red-Force was stampeding throughout the waves to find refuge in the eye of the storm, your task was to release the sails to have the natural wind pull you toward the calming center of the flurry.
On the last knot set to release the canvas, the sail snagged on the rope against the top-mast: prompting you to sprint towards the ropes to clamber up amongst the havoc. Your feet caught in the ropes, your heart springing to your throat as you readjusted yourself and stabilized your body within your climb.
“Careful up there!” the barked call of the first mate of the Red-Haired crew called to you over the wild and unruly wind. You could barely make out his words, let alone formulate an answer over the swell of rainfall.
Anchoring yourself amongst the ropes, you began desperately tugging at the knot to loosen. Your eyes became misted by the rapid downpour of water, your hands and fingers desperately clawing at the joint fibers of the rope to loosen. As you finally released the last loop of rope amongst the canvas, your feet slipped and your fingers barely brushed with the ropes to hold yourself steady before you began to fall.
The air was cool, the clouds above shepherded you into the lull of calm before you deduced your body would meet firmly against the deck and break your neck on impact. There was no way you would survive such a drop: no Devil-Fruit abilities to caress your fall, nor Haki present to catch you on impact.
Little did you know, the moment Benn Beckman barked his orders: he ensured his body was intentionally beneath yours to collect you in his arms should you fall. Although first mate to captain Shanks of the Red-Hair pirates, you were special to him. He needed to ensure your safety, regardless of his own orders to remain at his post.
As you fell through the air and readied your soul to flee from your body to welcome death with a warm embrace, the only embrace you felt was a warm chest, two steady and firm arms, and an angry reprimand falling from the lips of the gray-haired first mate.
“I told you to be careful!” he barked at you, his eyes wild and frantic as his brow deepened in a low frown. Your breath hitched in your throat, watching as his passionate scolding ignited behind his eyes. “You need to be careful, to be wise. I don’t care what Shanks told you to do, nor how stupid a command it is. You need to be more careful. Hitch a rope around your belt or somethin’, or between each loop to stop you from falling. I can’t lose you to something so stupid as a storm.”
You could barely comprehend his words, each syllable sounding heavenly against your ears as you appreciated each breath you were granted. You expected to die there, to fall from the ropes and have your neck snap upon impact against the deck - littering your skin with splinters from the wood and choirs serenading you into the life thereafter. In its stead, you were met with a grumpy bark and a cool reprimand that had your heart swelling and eyes misting with the rise of emotions.
Without thinking, you lunged forwards in his arms, your lips making contact against his stubbled cheek. You whimpered against his flesh, arms hooking over his neck and brows upturning in appreciation for his care for you. Your emotions spilled over: thanking whichever deity that was watching over you for the opportunity to live to not only serve this crew, but to feel the touch of Benn Beckman beneath your lips while your body remained chaperoned and cradled within his broad arms.
At a small sob escaping from your lips, Beckman’s heart softened. He cradled you against himself further, huffing out a small laugh and allowing you to remain in his arms a moment longer. He had desired this touch from you for some time, but refused to act on it due to your proximity and place amongst the crew should the relationship sour.
“A-Alright, Darlin’. Easy now,” he chuckled, feeling the small quake in your shoulders at the adjustment of your near demise, “Don’t let me get a big head.”
“You just saved my life, Benn Beckman,” you reiterated, tearing yourself away from him to stare up into his silvery eyes, “A kiss on the cheek is hardly a just reward for such a feat.” Holding his eyes against yours, the rain began to settle as the clouds departed in the eye of the storm. The sun's rays flittered down and cascaded over your bodies, the storm finally finding solace and breaking its tyrannical attack against the Red-Force.
After the storm settled, the soothing swell of waves held you in a momentary calm as your head reclined against Benn Beckman’s broad shoulder. Sitting on the damp deck, with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Beckman’s lips found your forehead as your eyes grew heavy with want and soothed within the proximity against your valiant savior.
You could not stop staring at him: this burly man with the grumpy twinkle in his eye. You would offer him the world should he ask it of you, grant him every desire his heart would swell for. You had no idea that the desire itself was you until he made that fact abundantly clear upon your wake in the morning.
#one piece#x reader#opla#opla fic#one piece live action#buggy#mihawk#dracule mihawk#captain buggy#my writing#buggy x reader#mihawk x reader#sir crocodile#op crocodile#sir crocodile x reader#crocodile x reader#red-hair shanks#shanks x reader#benn beckman#benn beckman x reader#op drabbles#op hcs
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King in the North (Jon snow x AFAB reader)
picture is not mine i found it on pinterest
description: Jon fucks you in the great hall after being named King in the North
warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving) p in v table sex creampie vaginal fingering multiple orgasms little bit of dirty talk (mostly from reader and i guess it’s actually just teasing)
notes: feel like Jon has a kink for you calling him ‘king’. also sorry if this is really fast i really hate slow burn smut 😭
there’s definitely not enough x reader smut of him
Night had already fallen upon Winterfell but Jon was still seated at the high table in the great hall thinking of his life for the past week. He died, came back, fought a war. Now he was a king, something he never even dreamed of being. He suddenly felt a presence in front of him and he looked up to see..you. You were wearing quite the short skirt too short for the North that was for sure and stockings..even though he was worried about you being cold, Jon couldn’t help the way his breath hitched and the tightening of his breeches as his eyes raked over you.
“Aren’t you cold, darling?” He asks his voice coming out huskier than he wanted.
“Perhaps my king could keep me warm” you answer.
My king. The words stirred something in Jon. It sounded so..seductive coming from your mouth and he was definitely hard now.
“Come here” he cleared his throat.
As you walked to stand next to him he quickly grabbed your hips and placed you in his lap causing you to find out a soft gasp of surprise but you quickly recover when you feel something against your own groin.
“What’s got you so excited, your grace?” You smirk a little and roll your hips a little.
“Darling” he gasps out his cock straining against his underclothes.
“What?” You ask feigning innocence and he rolled his eyes
“Don’t play innocent with me” he gently picks you up and places you on the table while he stands in between your legs.
Your breathing heaves and you start panting softly but you want to keep teasing him “what are you going to do, my king?” You spread your legs a bit wider “fuck me on this table?”
“Yes” he answers without hesitation which causes your cheeks turn pink and you let out a small ‘oh’ in response
He press his lips against your ear “can I taste you, love?”
“Yes” you quickly nod in response watching him fall to his knees in front of you
Jon reaches under your skirt and pulls down your underclothes and discarding them on the floor revealing your cunt to him. He kisses up your right thigh occasionally nibbling on the soft skin until he finally reaches his destination. His warm breath fans over your honeypot, he chuckles when you whine out of frustration and buck your hips towards his face.
He presses hot kisses around your outer lips before parting them with his tongue causing you to gasp and your hand flies to his head your fingers curling in his hair messing up his bun.
Jon gently laps at your juices moaning from the taste as you push his head against you and grind against his mouth biting your lip to hide your sounds as you breathe heavily through your nose.
Drool and your arousal paint Jons beard as he continues using his tongue. The wet muscle occasionally flickering over your bundle of nerves until it finds your dripping hole and he pushes it inside. He tongue fucks you until you reach your peak he licks up your juices before standing back up placing his hands on the table on either side of you as both of you catch your breath.
Jon leant in and gently kissed up and down your throat as his hand made it’s way in between your thighs. He gently slips his middle and marriage fingers into you causing you half-whine half-gasp. He curls his fingers smirking in your skin when he feels your legs tense up and you start rocking into his hand. He starts moving the digits at a fast pace and his thumb brushed against your clit causing you to press your forehead against his shoulder. Your second orgasm came faster than you expected and you limp against him as your legs quiver
“You alright, love?” He asks slipping his fingers out and licking you off them
“Y-Yeah..” you pant out
“Good enough for my cock?” He pushes you back to look at your face and you quickly nod
You watch as he undoes his breeches pulling them and his underclothes down revealing his manhood. He presses the head against your entrance causing you to move your hips encouraging him to go in but he just chuckles
“Patience, sweetheart” he says causing you to whine which makes him give in
You gasp as he stretches you out and wrap an arm around his neck. You give him the go ahead to move and he gently starts rocking his hips. His hands grips your thighs as he pulls himself out so only the tip is inside you before slamming back in completely. You place your hands on the table for balance as his movements become frantic both of you trying your best to hide your sounds of pleasure. But atlas your moans become too loud for you to control so he places a hand over your mouth.
“Quiet, dear” he speaks moving a bit faster “don’t want anyone to hear”
You nod pressing your face closer to his hand so you don’t risk it.
Soon enough Jon feels you squeeze around him and he moves faster encouraging you to peak which you do as your eyes roll back to your head and you feel his warm seed filling you.
Jon pulls out of you as you both pant as he recovers he bends down put his trouser back on and helps you but your underclothes on before picking you up bridal style and bringing you to your chambers so you both can rest.
#jon snow#asoiaf#got#game of thrones#jon snow smut#jon snow x reader#jon snow x you#smut#ns/fw#x reader#fanfic
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Hi! Can i request Sasuke x Uchiha fem reader arranged marriage? Please make it, non massacre au. Thank you! 😄
Sasuke Uchiha - Arranged Marriage
Artcreds @oppy190213 (found on Pinterest)
Growing up in a disciplined clan such as the Uchiha he wouldn't be to surprised that he'd been placed into an arranged marriage, he might view this as part of his duties being the son of Fugaku.
On the other hand however he's pissed, he believes this will get in the way of his goals and what he's trying to achieve, he has no time for dull lifeless romance his goals are much bigger than that, he needs to train to surpass his brother and prove himself as more than just a second born son.
When he finally meets you it's at a situated event organized by both parties, neither of you spoke it was mainly just both your families finalizing marriage agreements, making sure everything was set properly.
That was the first time and only time you met your fiance before your wedding.
The wedding was simple and traditional, the main guests being family, friends and high ranking clan officials.
The both of you are then moved into a house together on Uchiha territory, right next to the main household and it's quiet to say the least...
You don't do anything intimate the first night (if you catch my drift) however you do sit down and have a discussion.
"I want to make one thing clear I'm not doing this out of love but obligation to my clan, I have never desired a wife or a family for that matter, so don't expect this to be like one of those childish fairytales, I have my own goals and ambitions and I don't need anyone getting in the way."
And that's it, the first words your husband ever spoke to you...colddddd.
It's not that he doesn't like you, it's just that he doesn't care about you that much. If anything you're just another burden he has to deal with for now.
If you want him to warm up to you even a bit you'd need to show that you are in fact not a burden, and that you are perfectly fine being independent and on your own sometimes.
In the beginning your married life with him isn't too bad, as long as you're not in his face 24/7 trying to get him to love you.
If anything it's still quiet maybe even a bit boring, but it doesn't stay like that for long, slowly but surely his temperature gets warmer.
And he starts to notice things you do.
Like how even though he makes his own lunches, the right ingredients are always in the fridge.
He'll be training in the yard and you'll prepare fresh food and a cold glass of water for him for when he's done.
Or when he comes back from missions and has a nice warm bath and a clean house waiting for him.
He likes how you do these things in silence, where you're not constantly asking him to praise you and tell you you did good, you just know that your work doesn't go unnoticed, and he can just appreciate things in silence.
These actions don't go unreciprocated however, he starts to do things differently as well.
You sleep in separate rooms and wake up around the same time, you just a bit after him. You'll see him in the mornings drinking his coffee at the dinner table, if he notices you drink coffee or tea in the morning as well he'll start to leave just a little extra water in the kettle for you, so you don't have to heat some up yourself.
Or if he notices you take on a certain hobby and you're running out of something like paint or yarn he'll quietly pick up more for you, no thanks needed. But don't point out how he smiles slightly seeing you using it.
He's smart enough to know he doesn't feel the same about you, like he did in the beginning. And that the feelings he has for you now are more deep and meaningful.
He would never want to admit this out loud however, he wouldn't even know how to express it.
Until (drum roll please...) you're put in danger! classic am I right
For this let's say someone kidnaps you for ransom while out shopping.
Maybe this was for the best, now he can enjoy his life in peace and not have to worry about having a wife at least that's what you thought he would want.
That was until a very angry Uchiha showed up and beat the bloody shit out of everyone in that room but you, using his sharingan.
He takes you in his arms and asks if you're all right or if you're hurt anywhere, when you say you're surprised he showed up he responds with something along the lines of:
"You're my wife, did you think I was just going to leave you here?"
It's said in a slightly aggressive tone, as if he was mad you even questioned it.
However there were a couple words he said that really stood out to you.
You're his wife?
I mean sure legally you were his wife you are married, but he's never referred to you as such before, even in public he'd call you his 'arranged spouse' or his 'contracted marriage partner' nothing flattering to say the least.
He notices your reaction and tries to cover up his words with:
"if anything ever happened to you it would look bad on me, I mean what would people say about the Uchiha clan if they just let their, uhm spouses yeah spouses get stolen... *cough* *cough*
You don't press any further, his slightly flushed cheeks and sped up words give it all away and your relationship only goes up from there.
Come winter you might even be sharing a bed, but it's just to keep you warm, obviously winter can be a very harsh season, he swears it...
I reread this a couple times but it's still very likely that a couple mistakes slipped past me so if you see anything that's phrased weirdly just point it out and I'll fix it, anyways I hope you like it, and if it's not what you were looking for feel free to send in a more specific request, and I'll do my best... maybe
also I accidentally lost a bullet point, I think I deleted it, but if something random is just there and you're super confused and it looks a lot like something else just lmk lol
Jan 18,2025
#naruto#Naruto Shippuden#sasuke uchiha#sasuke x reader#sasuke uchiha x reader#sasuke headcanons#sasuke x you#sasuke uchiha x you#Uchiha x you#Uchiha x reader#Sasuke
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Happy New Year’s 2017 guys! 🥳
Chose this song because this song gets EXACTLY how I imagine Tord and Matt’s themes combined. They both fw this song cause damn it’s good.
These two are total freaks, total fucking FREAKS man. Get a room or something you two. Not the bathroom because that shit’s nasty. Tord and Matt right, you pair them up and you get one of the most chaotic duos in the house. Not saying the others aren’t as chaotic, but these two are VERY energetic and open about it.
And this is a day after Matt came back from his airplane trip. So Tord picked him up from the airport, and they went to this sushi buffet place. Matt loves sushi, so Tord knew and was like “Oh yeah I know exactly where to take you.”
I have no idea how this situation came to be though. Tord had to use the toilet and Matt wanted to join and give him company LMAO. They both thought it would be funny if Matt came along and they proceeded to both become dumbasses.
Redrew over a Pinterest photo I found while scrolling for ideas. The original image was a bit smaller than my sketched out idea, so I had to improvise and paint the edges to match the og photo. I’m really happy how well it blends in, and you can see the comparison with the og photo. :-]
That and I didn’t want to entirely trace over the people in the photo. I traced over some guidelines to make it anatomically correct, but largely gave myself room to improvise and fill in gaps so it could fit my style. I’m pretty happy with how this turned out, and aye, hope you enjoy it. :-]
#eddsworld#eddsworld fanart#tordmatt#eddsworld tordmatt fanart#tordmatt fanart#eddsworld matttord#eddsworld tord#eddsworld tord fanart#ew tord fanart#tord ew#tord eddsworld fanart#eddsworld matt#eddsworld matt fanart#ew matt fanart#matt ew#matt eddsworld fanart#ryemackerel art thing
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Carrington x reader dating hcs with a YouTuber reader? Maybe who makes those speed paint voice over videos like Emma Artly
take a look at my girlfriend ᯓᡣ𐭩 headcannons
pairing : boyfriend!carrington x artist!youtuber!gf!reader [no smut !!]
divider credit : pics from pinterest, starry night divider from @thecutestgrotto
🖌 first things first, that man is not only your muse
🎨 but your BIGGEST cheerleader
📝 watches you sketch with the BIGGEST puppy-dog eyes
🖍 his constant yapping somehow leads you to the most creative ideas
🖌 "imagine if like gozilla had a cat yk? like okay picture it-" *frantically searching for apple pen*
🎨 every valentines day you post a video and its just a slideshow of either the COUNTLESS sketches you have of him, OR, a montage of everytime he's interrupted your voice overs but like animated yk
📝 he's constantly helping you come up with art challenge ideas
🖍 "draw your ocs but blindfolded while driving" "...i don't know about the driving part but-"
🖌 once you let him do your voiceover for a speed-drawing you did
🎨 "i think she's adding shading" "...oh no she's drawing his head" "hey wait...IS THIS ME?"
📝 his secret skill is finding your apple pen in your bedsheets
🖍 "FOUND IT!"
a/n : i love when you guys get specific with readers/requests its so fun for me /gen (lower case intended !)
#carrington#carrington bornstein#carrington usa#carringtonxx#carrington x reader#carrington fanfic#carrington bornstein x reader#jake webber#johnnie guilbert#tara yummy#carrington headcannons#carringtonxx headcannons#jake and johnnie
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party time!
featuring: CEO!Satoru Gojo x trophy wife!reader
genre: fluff, drabble
word count: 1.2k
synopsis: You, the trophy wife of the infamous Satoru Gojo, decide to spend your October planning a no expenses spared party to celebrate the holiday. What could go wrong?
part one of spooky section, my 2024 Halloween event!
“We’re throwing a party.” You declared over dinner on a dreary mid-September day. Your husband, the notorious CEO Satoru Gojo looked up from his meal (made from scratch, by you) at the sound of your voice.
“Hm?” He asked, cocking his head to one side, blue eyes as bright as ever.
“We’re throwing a party. For Halloween.” You continued, “I want something to do whilst you’re at the office all day. So, I’m throwing a Halloween party. It’ll be the talk of the town.”
“I’d expect nothing less from my darling wife.”
“I’ll handle everything - down to your costume. We’ll be doing a couple’s costume-”
“I would hope so-”
“I want it to be extravagant. The type of party that ends up like an urban legend.”
“You know I love when you have a passion project, baby. Why are you asking mee for my permission on this?”
“Oh, I’m not asking for permission.” You grinned at your husband, “I’m asking for a budget.”
By the time All Hallows Eve fell, everything had miraculously fallen into place. It had taken you the full month and a half to plan everything, but seeing it all pull together had made it all worth it. You had decided to throw it at your multi-story penthouse, deciding it made the party feel more personal, more exclusive. But gone was the chic home you and Satoru were used to, and instead, when Satoru returned home from a half day at the office (to leave plenty of time to get ready, by your demand) it was like walking into a whole new universe. Candelabras lined the walls, the melted wax dripping red against the white exterior of the candles, giving a blood-like effect. Cobwebs were strung from the ceiling, littered with faux bats and fairy lights. You had turned one of your corridors into the iconic tunnel from Coraline, your kitchen into a witches’ lair, full of ‘potions’ to drink and ‘charms’ to eat. Even your windows were decorated - full of decals that made them look like the stained glass one would find in an ancient church. There were pumpkins everywhere, some carved, some warty - in any placed you looked there was something seasonal.
“Baby?” He had called out once his awe had worn off.
“In the bedroom! Get your ass in here!” You yelled back. He let out a chuckle at that, before heading up the stairs two at a time. To say he was excited to finally found out what he would be dressed as this evening would be an understatement - if he was being perfectly honest, he would say it had been at the forefront of his mind since he slid you that black card after you had asked for a budget, telling you to go crazy. He had been stalking your various Pinterest boards dedicated to this party, to no avail (you knew he would do this, so purposefully made a private board for costume ideas, it was a surprise, after all).
He burst into your bedroom, giving the poor woman currently doing your make up a fright. “Blue? You’re being painted blue… please don’t tell me you’re making me be Papa Smurf all night.” His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that would tip him off as to what you had planned. You giggled at his antics, forcing yourself not to shake your head at him so you didn’t disturb your make-up artists.
“And parade around as Smurfette all night? No, it’s something much better.” You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your face. “Your costume is hanging up in the white bag in my closet - bring it in here before you open it. I want to see your reaction.” Satoru all but sprinted to your closet. Halloween had always been one of his favourite times of year, so when you had told him you had wanted to throw a kick-ass party for the holiday, he wanted to jump with joy.
He found the bag immediately and raced back to your side, shaking in anticipation.
“Go ahead, Toru, open it.” He was like a child at Christmas with how quickly he tore the zip of the garment bag open, his glee lighting up the room. He took the costume in - a pinstripe suit. Was he Gomez Addams? But you were being painted blue, so you certainly weren’t in the middle of a transformation into Morticia. The tails of the suit jacket were thin and pointy, and there was five of them instead of the usual two. It wasn’t until he set his eyes on the iconic, large bowtie, or rather bat-tie that it all clicked into place.
“Jack Skellington!” He gasped. “Right? And you’re blue because you’re going to be my Sally?”
“Bingo.” You smiled fondly at him.
“Babe, this is- this is amazing. Your decorations are like - oh my God, they’re brilliant, and this is such a good costume idea-” Your face warmed as he sung your praises, glad he approved.
A few hours later and the party was in full swing. Everyone you had invited showed up, all dressed to the nines in their various costumes. Drinks flowed, the band you hired kept the vibe up and the dance floor full practically all night. At points, that included you and Satoru, who couldn’t resist a dance (or two or three) with his lovely wife.
In the wee hours of the morning, as people filtered out, after thanking you for a brilliant night, some even enquiring if you’d do the whole thing again a year later, Satoru forced you onto the dance floor one last time. This one much slower, much more intimate, as he held you close, tucked against his chest and under his chin, one of his hands around your waist and the other holding yours against him.
“You’ve done amazing.” He whispered into your hair, deciding that speaking at a normal volume would ruin the moment. “I mean, I knew you would, especially after seeing you plan our wedding.”
“Oh shush.” Your words implied annoyance, but your tone said something else entirely as you hid your face in his chest.
“I’m serious - you’re brilliant at this kind of stuff.” He kissed the top of your head, “did you have fun?”
“I did, actually. It kept me nice and busy.”
“Is it too early to ask you for a Christmas one?” You pulled back slightly, looking at him with your brow furrowed.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously! I can see it now - the living room a Santa’s grotto, you in a sexy Mrs Claus costume.” You scoffed at that.
“I’ll think about it.” You answered him, tucking yourself back under his chin. Truly, you didn’t want the moment to end. Sure, you loved organising an event like this or your wedding. But really, your favourite thing about the entire ordeal was this - the moment with your lover after a success, calming down after a vivacious evening, ready to climb into bed and spent the rest of the night cuddled tightly in each other’s arms.
Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!
Do you have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!
#libraryofolive#olive writes#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#geto suguru#satosugu#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk drabbles#jjk gojo#libraryofolive - drabble#gojo fluff#libraryofolive spooky section
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Are those paintings you when you did it or just an example?? He would 100 percent beg his girl to make him one especially one that showed her boobs.
ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ oh that’s just an example i found on pinterest. would never have the guts to post something like that on the internet 😭 . . .
he would love them. and not only would he beg you to make them but he would beg you to let him help you make them.
would happily volunteer to coat his girls in paint, and press the canvas against you. all you need to do is stand there and play model for a bit.
and even if you do it as a surprise and he’s not apart of the creating process, he would go crazzyyyy for them. would stare at them all the time.
“jack you can’t put them in the living room,” you insist and your boyfriend pouts exaggeratedly
“why not? thought the whole point of having your own place is so that you can decorate the way you want,” jack practically whines
“you want every person who walks through your front door to see my tits on a canvas?” you ask, hoping the words spoken aloud will make your boyfriend realize how ridiculous that is
“they’re great tits,” jack says contemplating
“and they’re also yours. so let’s keep them for your eyes only yeah?” you say, kissing his cheek and jack grins
well , when you put it like that . . .
#꒰ 🗄️ ꒱ — 𝓗hughes#꒰ 📂 ꒱ — 𝓗hughes > drabbles#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#jack hughes x reader
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Hi, I found your work on Twitter last year and I really love and look up to your art. If you have the time, I wanted to as if there are there any study topics, artists or techniques that have significantly influenced you :')
I'm at a bit of a complete loss on what to study presently so I thought I'd ask my favorite artists, thank you for reading and I completely understand if this is too open ended a question
Thank you!
This isn't the first time I have been asked this question and I suspect this won't be the last so I'll just lay everything out here. Go to a cafe or get a blanket or something because this will not be a short read:
Foundational:
Anatomy: A lot of my foundational anatomy and clothing illustration knowledge was gained from taking classes and doing observational drawing. Because of this, I'm not going to have the best book recommendations but top 2 books I can recommend for getting Started started are Andrew Loomis or RockHe Kim's books on anatomy (huge asterisk here: they're good at teaching you Basics basics like muscle groups and turning forms and extremely general proportions but will not help that much with making your figure drawings less stiff or how to draw fat or especially in the latter's case how to draw women not built like stick bug anime girls but uh I heard the Morpho books are pretty good. genuinely everything I know about drawing fat is from observational drawing/studies because at some point I got sick of my school for only hiring skinny models in their 20s-30s). I have some diagrams drawn by my friend who studied the hell out of these guys below:
Clothing: I don't know any books that can really help on this front I apologize if I find any I'll update this post but pretty much all of my knowledge on drawing clothes boils down to the following rules: Where are the tension points, how stiff or soft is the textile, how is the form underneath the section of clothing behaving, and don't make even spaces between fold groups
All of this is kind of moot though if it isn't applied through study or observational drawing though
Design:
I have to be really careful here because I don't want to deal in absolutes, the only absolute I'm confident espousing is that anyone who tells you there is only a small selection of methods you should follow to execute a specific type of design are objectively incorrect and just haven't figured out alternative if not more effective design solutions to a common problem. The only real Worst Thing I think you could do as a designer is create a pinterest mannequin devoid of a story, disconnected from its context in the world, and lacking in a clear purpose/personality but this too could be easily be disputed if maximising a character’s aesthetic appeal serves a purpose in its context, and my opposition to this design approach is my personal bias as a character designer for entertainment where emphasizing a character’s function and their relationship to said function is usually the goal
I think the 5 best pieces of advice I've ever received when it comes to designing characters are the following:
Try and follow the rule of thirds/general gestalt design principles of contrast
Always consider what it is you're trying to communicate with the character
Create believable transitions and reinforcements between points of interest
(Entertainment related) KISS principle/Keep It Simple, Stupid is your friend, the way a character wears or wields what they wear or wield will communicate their role in the world (who are they?), their relationship to their role (do they like their job? are they good at it? are they a part of an organization with the means to provide them things to perform their role more effectively?) effectively enough. Excessive information that bloats and conflicts with the communication objective weakens design (example: My favourite childhood toy for years was a pokemon plushie. Would I as a stay at home digital artist be wearing it as a keychain on my crusty paint stained polyester pajama pants when I'm at my desk working my job? is wearing it relevant to my character as a person who both no longer is invested in pokemon and is in this context focused entirely on comfort and doing my job? (no)). I think Elden Ring is an excellent example of a game that has visually complex designs but pretty expedient storytelling with its characters for worldbuilding
Study things that aren't just character design, to borrow from Lynn Yaeger borrowing from Sally Singer "If you're interested in fashion learn everything except fashion... Politics, art, painting- anything except fashion". Because people in different disciplines who work with different mediums or fields of study approach problems in different angles you may not have considered which can help give new ideas + often times the stuff you like was inspired by stuff that isn't at all what you would expect or enjoy yourself (To pull from a very popular example, Arcane is a League of Legends joint which was highly influenced by Warcraft which was highly influenced by Warhammer which was basically a giant response to western pop culture of the 1960s and the history of European warfare something something coconut tree).
Character design is kind of a hard thing to Get Good at considering how much of the actual process is super psychological/not bound by a *ton* of absolutes and has to account for medium and function (you kind of just have to have The Sauce) so I don't recommend Just studying independently only (possible, just very difficult). If you can and are interested in learning more about the specifics take some classes taught by people whose styles you fw who both know what they're doing and are good at explaining their process. For design for entertainment you can always check out Concept Design Academy or The Workshop Academy and see who's teaching there
As far as artist inspirations are concerned I think looking up the artists who worked on projects you like are a good starting point to figure out how you want to stylize. Going off of that at least currently my favourite designers/illustrators for entertainment with The Sauce are probably Evening Monteiro, Sergey Kolesov, Mindy Lee, Tonci Zonjic, Sasha Tudvaseva, Claire Hummel, and Yoshitaka Amano
My favourite book currently for tackling character design at least from a narrative consideration is probably Talking Threads: Costume Design for Entertainment Art (one of the authors is my friend and an excellent teacher!) and a lot of the stuff they espouse really helps to take into consideration individual and external factors when designing a character/how they can be used as vehicles for both individual storytelling and worldbuilding, gigantic reference point for my most recent casual project
Besides that the only other way I can really recommend studying character design is to just look at art, history, architecture, nature (pretty much Everything) and think about how ideas and concepts from those things can be applied to or communicated through a design or figure out what it was about a design or designs you like made it appealing
uhh tldr this is just how i as one among millions of artists got to where i am today as of January 16th 2025 my word is not gospel the advice I espoused here may very well spell my downfall tomorrow
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VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg
pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc
genre: smut
word count: 9.9k
summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.
pinterest board: vapor
warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(
note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3
Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb.
Still can’t.
He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air.
The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.
It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all.
And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point.
This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you.
Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.
The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels.
It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes.
Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing?
He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day.
You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream.
“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones.
The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them.
“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully.
You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows.
You.
“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention.
“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable.
If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust.
He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you.
“Your nose first, then your dick.”
It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him.
And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled.
It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power.
He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind.
And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden.
Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over.
“Spank me.”
Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes.
“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.”
The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.
Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation.
“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.”
He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs.
Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms.
And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this.
Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either.
Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him.
“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?”
Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth.
You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being.
And along with your submission come out your words.
In perfect fashion.
“No, I want to suck you off.”
And along with those your orgasm, too.
Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again.
Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.
You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging.
In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk.
“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.”
You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him.
And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.
“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it.
But he wants you to come like this, too.
“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.”
You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue.
A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name.
And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you.
“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.”
You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary.
Or at least he thought so.
“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.”
Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.
“Is that so?”
You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin.
He might just give you a taste of it now.
It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love.
Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently.
It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out.
“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.”
The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation.
“Oh, fuck yes.”
He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.
At your ever persisting service. Eternal.
Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears.
He hears your phone ring.
His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right.
“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.”
Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you.
It doesn’t lessen his fire, though.
“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.”
His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in.
You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.”
You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers.
Your legs begin to shake.
Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?”
“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.”
Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm.
“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face.
He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back.
“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”
The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.
And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies.
And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care.
He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it.
Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist.
It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door.
His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of.
It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend.
An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him.
Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through.
Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling.
“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate.
“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.
“Do you think the water is cold?”
Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one.
Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest.
“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.”
Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you.
“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.”
A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat.
A hunger for a cigarette.
He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because.
“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.”
You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony.
And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you.
He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it.
And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem.
Something in his pants.
And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones.
His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it.
Perhaps, it truly does.
“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?”
You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.
A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.
“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.”
Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing.
“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.”
Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?”
It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip.
Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.”
He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down.
You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly.
He’s about to find out.
Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down.
He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there.
And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water.
The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills.
You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels.
But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it.
You asked for it.
He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him.
That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles.
You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top.
Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations.
“That’s for me catching you.”
Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard.
“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another.
You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck.
“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.”
You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world.
He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it.
“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”
It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave.
“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.”
He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death.
When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly.
“That’s what you get, my love.”
You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore.
Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight.
“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.”
It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about.
But he is changing his ways. For you.
You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting.
“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away.
Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this.
“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.”
You mewl. “Yes, please.”
In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume.
“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.”
The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster.
Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks.
Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard.
“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.”
He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.”
Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home.
And it begins to rain.
Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity.
He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back.
Not so bare anymore.
You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him.
Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure.
“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.”
He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.”
He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later.
Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached.
He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself.
You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso.
Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it.
“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.”
You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.”
He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless.
“Then, touch yourself for me.”
He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal.
“You have to ride it well, then.”
You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.”
Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…
Then, he leaves you to it.
Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless.
“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.”
A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back?
And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you.
“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip.
“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.”
He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?”
“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.”
He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.”
The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds.
That’s his very fucking undoing.
Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones.
And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow.
He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you.
“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss.
He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again.
“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.”
You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore.
He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit.
Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together.
He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower.
He tells you of the demon living in his chest.
“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.”
You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you.
He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies.
And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body.
And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become.
It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency.
He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo.
“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other.
Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist.
Quite literally.
He’s banging his male therapist.
The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you.
And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything.
Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again.
Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.
And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along.
He and you. A singularity.
The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart.
No third party.
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#jungkook x oc#yoongi smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts imagine#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#btscreatorscorner#kpop smut#jungkook one shot#yoongi x oc#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine
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you absolutely have NO idea HOW MUCH I LOVE OBSESSIVE AND DESPERATE MAN
(╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻
i hate pinterest for always bringing these pics on my page T-T
especially this fucking painting:
if he aint like this i don’t want him.
my delusions (cus i’m a delulu bitch):
He buried his head between your thighs. The fabric of your skirt is covering his face as his hands found their place on your ankles. He knew it was ridiculous to see a man like him, a huge, grown man with board shoulders and potential to kill a bear with his bare hands, kneeling infrond of you and pleading love from you. Just a little affection from you was all he was asking for. Even if you did it with pity or by delaying he would accept it. His head brushed against your skirt as he looked up to you and inched closer to your stomach. You narrowed your eyes and raised an eyebrow. He immediately stopped and sunk back down. “Darling…” he mumbled as his thumbs caressed your ankles. “No.” you answered sternly and leaned back onto couch. “Please?” he tried again. His hands moved up to your calfs with the wanting to feel me of you. “You don’t think you can get whatever you want when you act like that, right?” you crossed your legs causing him to lift his head and then put his chin on your knee stubbornly. He refused to leave you alone. “Can’t i?” you felt a pout in his voice. You rolled your eyes and bounced your legs to push his head off. “Get up. You make yourself look pitiful.” you spat.
He clenched his jaw and sit straight on his knees. Then grabbed your wrists and pulled you foward to him, making your cleavage his view. “Do you think i care?” he hissed and nuzzled his face into your neck. Savoring your scent. “You know i will make you my wife. Whether you like it or not.” his voice stained with lust and determination. “And when i do…” he trailed off and his fingers brushed against your waist and up to your breasts. His palm covered the skin under your breasts and squeezed lightly. You felt blood rushing to your cheeks and your face burned. “You can’t escape your fate. Don’t worry, my love. You will enjoy it. A lot.” he whispered against your skin making you feel tingly with the vibration of his voice.
You swallowed and tried to straighten your posture but he didn’t let go before pushing your hair of your neck and pressing a delicate kiss. He already knew he had you in the palm of his hand. Your protests did nothing to stop him. “Get out.” you mumbled and crossed your arms. He chuckled dryly and get up, his frame towering over you as you refused to look into his eyes. “I promise.” he mumbled before leaving your room.
now do whatever you want with this information.
#i fucking love desperate men#im a hopeless romantic with a dirty mind#im another level of delulu#like unholy ungodly#when its my turn#all i can do is think König as this#konig x you#konig cod#könig#konig x reader#könig x reader#konig x y/n#könig fanfiction#könig x y/n#silay
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