#every day i am converted more and more into a soap girl <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[vampykween]

GULP I FUCKINH LOVED THIS OMG

IBLBM

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x plus size!f!reader (Bonnie)

Semi-inspired by “Talk” by Hozier

18+ mdni

5k+ words

Warnings: horrendous writing with very little dialogue (bc idk how to human), dubious consent (both drink alcohol but are not drunk), oral (f! receiving), unprotected piv (pls be careful), unexpected feelings?? (i was feeling fluffy at the end ig, bc it wasn’t supposed to end happily). 

The sounds of mindless chatter and loud laughing ring in Soap’s ears as he sits on the bar stool that creaks as he fidgets, placed next to the wall in the far corner of the run-down bar he frequents after deployment. Soap sips his whiskey, trying to drown out the distracting thoughts that had invaded his mind, racing through his head as fast as the bullets that had been recently fired at him. His striking blue eyes seem sunken and his cheekbones more pronounced in the dim lighting; his rugged features turned more harsh. The memories of the recent mission weigh heavily on him, seeing as his usually upright posture is wilted and slouched. Still, the laughter around him seems to provide a temporary escape.

Leaning against the peeling wallpaper, he absentmindedly runs his fingers across the sticky bartop in swirling patterns. At the same time, he brings his glass of whiskey up to his pouty lips to take another sip of the burning liquor; his blue eyes focus on something other than the bartop: the bonnie lass with her head thrown back in laughter at something one of her friends said, chubby cheeks squished as she smiles widely causing her eyes to almost disappear. The vivid joy of her laughter contrasted with the dark thoughts that haunted Soap. His mind wanders, succumbing to desires and fantasies that watching the lass offers—a brief respite from the harsh realities of war that usually storm his thoughts.

Soap takes another mindless sip of the amber liquid in the glass in his hand; the burn of the whiskey provides a physical distraction, a reminder of something tangible amidst the war and chaos of his thoughts. His blue eyes, ordinarily sharp and focused, betray a hint of vulnerability, softening as they follow the curves of the young woman's body, fixated on how her ample body seems to spill out of her seat in the most tantalizing way. The contrast between his wandering mind's harshness and his yearnings' softness is lost as he gets lost in the pretty lass, pink tongue darting out to lick his dry lips hungrily. 

Steamin’ Jesus, how he wanted to bury his hands in the pillowy softness of her hips and ass, drag her malleable body against his firm, unforgiving muscles. 

Soap tried to shake off the intrusive fantasies, lifting his gaze from the enticing scene. With its peeling wallpaper, sticky bartop, and the influx of civilians and soldiers alike, the bar offers a refuge of anonymity, a place where he could momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities. 

Yet, the pull of desire lingers, weaving an intricate web of softness around the hardened soldier in that dimly lit corner of the run-down bar. Shooting the rest of his liquor to the back of his throat, Soap stands, wincing at the loud creak of the stool. The Scot takes a second to breathe deeply, making sure his posture is straight, his brown mohawk is neat enough, and his rakish smirk is perfect before swaggering over to the lass he had his eyes on; he knows that he will have a distraction in the form of plush thighs and whimpering sighs tonight. 

Soap's army-regulated boots make a subtle, purposeful thudding sound against the scuffed floor as he approaches, stopping just behind the object of his affection. The hum of conversation around him seems to dull in his ears as the air charges with an unspoken tension. His piercing blue eyes focused on his objective. This is not unlike having to seduce a mark when he’s undercover. 

The bonnie lass, oblivious to his presence, continues chatting animatedly with her friends. However, the sudden pause in her friend’s response is palpable as Soap's tall, broad-shouldered presence commands their attention. Their curious gazes turn toward him, and a hushed silence settles over the immediate vicinity. Every eye is turned to Soap as you turn to see what had caused the interruption, the laughter lines around your mouth and eyes fading into wrinkles between brows as you meet Soap's eyes with a curious gaze. 

Looking into yout eyes for the first time is like an atom bomb exploding—something beautiful and dangerous lighting up his irises, blocking out anything else. Soap feels as though time herself has stopped for him to have this moment, looking deeply into the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. His rakish grin has fallen from his face, a drop-jawed, open-mouthed, and wide, starry-eyed look taking its place. 

“Lass” is the only thing he rasps out in a rough, accented voice, charming confidence washed away. 

Your friends giggle at the man’s loss of words, glancing at each other with smirks. 

One woman says, “If you keep your mouth open like that, you’ll catch flies.” 

This seems to break Soap from his haze, prompting him to snap his jaw shut with an audible clack of teeth. His cheeks burn like an inferno, red rising from under his shirt all the way up to the tops of his ears. The lass’ friends giggle more at his embarrassment. 

The bar, with its worn-out decor and the lingering scent of alcohol, resumed its normalcy. Sounds of creaking and conversation that had faded from Soap’s ears came ringing back. Soap, however, now stands on the precipice of a different kind of explosion—the unpredictable chemistry between two souls in a crowded, dimly lit bar, where a simple gaze has the power to alter the course of an ordinary evening. 

Shaking his head and sending his once-neat mohawk astray, Soap tries again, “Would ye dance with me, hen?” 

Your friends turn their attention back to you, who, by now, has lost the curious gaze and now adopts one similar to Soap’s from earlier—though you manage to keep your mouth shut. 

“I–umm…” is all you can stutter out in your confusion; what does a man like him want with a woman like you?

“I just…uhhh…I saw you from over there, hen,” Soap explains, pointing to ‘his’ corner of the bar, “and I just had to have a dance with ye. Yer body—steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie—ye could be a goddess just on looks alone. And yer laugh. It’s like faeries tinklin’ in my ears.”

Your face has heated to a nearly volcanic level because of the unexpected attention from such a specimen of a man; he wore a compression t-shirt that fit snugly around his arms and torso, bringing your attention to his hard, bulging muscles and black sweatpants that clung to his thighs like a second skin. Soap was pure sin, your mouth watering as you eyed him up and down. 

​​The vivid imagery of his words, combined with the genuine warmth in his eyes, sends an erupting flush of heat to your cheeks like a volcano boiling over. Soap's unexpected flattery, though eloquent, leaves you feeling both surprised and complimented.

Your friends exchange sly glances, perhaps recognizing the rarity of such a moment. Not only was a man asking you for a dance rare, but you reacting to a man with such awe was, too. 

Not above using his words—and his refined talk—to his advantage, Soap begins again, “Lass, ye ‘ave stolen my full attention. I’ve gotta ‘ave at least one dance with you. Please, Bonnie. I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what ye want. Anything for just a taste of ye.” 

Glancing at your friends, who all give you looks telling you to go, you mutter, “Fine,” before getting out of your chair and standing before the behemoth of a man, “But I don’t even know your name.” 

Soap flushes darker at his misstep. “My name’s Johnny.”

“Well, Johnny boy, let's get dancing before you fall on your knees and beg.” 

Perking up like a dog whose just been given a bone, Soap squares his shoulders and runs a hand through his mussed mohawk, shuffling on his feet. He knows he has you in his grasp and will bring you home. He’s already got in mind all the things he wants to do to you, imagining the noises you will make as he wrings pleasure from you. 

Feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, you allow Soap to take your hand, his touch warm and reassuring. As he leads you through the crowded bar, the familiar sounds of mindless chatter and laughter become distant echoes. The atmosphere shifts as you approach the small, rarely used dancefloor, a space that seems to exist in its own pocket of the world.

Soap's grip on your hand is firm yet gentle, guiding you with a quiet—though dominant—confidence. The flickering lights overhead cast a soft glow on the worn wooden floor, and the notes of an old, familiar song begin to play.

The dancefloor, usually abandoned in a corner of the bar, becomes the stage for an unexpected lust between you and Soap. 

Without a word, Soap places his free hand on your waist, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. The distance between you dissipates as he pulls you gently into his body, your plush softness smooshing against his stiff muscles. The warmth of Soap's hand on your waist is comforting and electrifying. Now softened by the dim lighting, his blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. For a moment, the world's worries outside the bar seem distant, and you find yourself captivated by the unexpected charm of the rugged soldier.

As Soap leads you into a slight sway to the music, keeping his body solidly on yours, the silence becomes even more grating. 

​​Soap breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through your intertwined bodies, causing a slight shiver to race up your spine. "Never thought I'd find myself dancing in a place like this," he admits, lips lifting in a slight smirk, his voice carrying a hint of gruff amusement.

You manage a small smile, feeling a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a twinge of vulnerability. "Me neither," you reply, the music providing a gentle backdrop to the exchange.

As the two of you continue to move in harmony, Soap's gaze remains fixed on yours. "Ye know," he begins, his tone sincere, "sometimes ye find something good in the least expected places." His words linger in the air, prompting a thoughtful pause. "And sometimes," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, "ye find yourself dancing with someone who makes even the dimmest corners feel bright."

In a fluid motion, Johnny leans down, his movements both deliberate and yet surprisingly gentle. The scent of whiskey and gun oil hangs in the air as his battle-worn hand glides from your waist to your jaw, cupping it with a rough tenderness. He can feel the heat in your cheek as he brushes his thumb across it. 

Johnny’s touch is commanding and caring, the callouses on his fingers a testament to his countless battles. There's a quiet assurance in how he holds your face as if trying to convey a depth of understanding beyond the spoken word.

Simultaneously, his other hand grips your hip firmly, sending a thrill through your body.

You and Jonny share a few breaths, looking at each other through lowered lashes. The dim lights cast shadows on your faces. Then, Johnny grabs your face tighter and pulls you up to meet his lips with yours. The first touch is light, just a graze of his chapped, cracked lips on your lips. The next is all heat and passion. 

Johnny uses his grip on your jaw to force your mouth open so he can slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugary drink you had been sipping on and the essence of your flesh. His lips tasted of strong whiskey, potent and intoxicating, something you could get drunk on. 

Johnny's movements are deliberate, each touch calculated to evoke a response. He slides his hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, large, thick, and calloused fingers fanning out over the back of your throat, possesively firm but gentle. Your gasp is swallowed into the greedy kiss. Johnny barely lets you breathe, pulling back to adjust his grip on your body before he’s diving back into your mouth. His tongue explores the contours of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, licking behind your teeth and coaxing you into tangling your tongue with his. Slick pools in your underwear. 

Suddenly, almost as if he knows your reaction, Johnny pulls away with a slick sound, a string of saliva binding you two together until he swipes his tongue across his lips, drinking in your taste. His eyes are pools of dark blue, a raging sea of blue covered almost entirely by black. He looks crazed, like a hungry wolf; his mouth is set in a barely perceptible snarl, brows pulled down as he focuses on his meal: you.

“Bonnie, I’m gonna be honest…I gotta have you. Taste you. Worship you for the goddess you are.”

“Johnny, I’m not sure…” you trail off nervously, “I mean, my friends are here, and I didn’t drive here.” 

“I ken ye are worried, but you don’t ‘ave ta be worried. Ye're aff yer heid if you think I’d do anything to a Bonnie lass like ye” Johnny looks into your eyes before purring into your ear, “Imagine being loved by me.” 

His rough, accented voice right in your ear sends tremors throughout your body, slick soaking through your underwear as your lust grows. 

“Okay” 

With that breathy word, Johnny has his mouth on yours again, subtly grinding his erection against your midsection. You let out a breathy whine at the feeling of his length. 

Johnny takes a deep breath and steps away from you, “I would take you right here if I could. But I cannae. So, we should grab a cab to your place before I fuck you in front of everyone.” 

Drunk on lust, you can only nod your head rapidly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the door. You only remember to wave goodbye to your friends right as you open the door and step outside into the chill of night, letting the door slam behind you. 

Letting you drag him into the cold night air, Johnny chuckles at your enthusiasm, his Scottish mutterings carrying a sense of amusement. "Ye ken that I havnae gotten a cab yet, right, Bonnie?" he remarks, the humor evident in his voice.

Your response is a content hum as you huddle into his body, seeking shelter from the biting winds. The warmth of his embrace starkly contrasts the cool night, and you find comfort in the proximity.

Amused by your eagerness, Johnny pulls his phone from his back pocket, his other hand ensuring you're nestled close to him. The desire for closeness is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the connection forged in the bar. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his features as he orders a cab after asking for your address, the anticipation of what lies ahead adding an electric charge to the air.

As you wait for the cab, the world around you becomes a blur of dimly lit streets and the distant sounds of the city. In this pocket of time, suspended between the closing door of the bar and the arrival of the cab, the connection between you and Johnny continues to simmer, a flame that refuses to be extinguished by the cold night air.

Soon enough, Johnny is protectively ushering you into the back of a cab, climbing in right after you so as to not be too far from you. The warmth of the vehicle envelopes you both, a stark contrast to the chill you left behind outside—though it doesn’t hold the same feeling as being held in Johhny’s arms.

As the cab weaves through the late-night streets, the cityscape passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Johnny sits close, the space between you minimal, as if he wants to ensure you feel his presence beside you. His hand holds the meat of your thick thigh, kneading the flesh there and teasingly dragging his fingers closer and closer to your core before sliding back down, a smirk placed on his lips. 

The cab comes to a smooth stop in front of your house, the engine humming softly as it idles. The quiet neighborhood surrounds you; the journey from the bar to this quiet residential street feels like a transition from one world to another. 

The glow of streetlights casts a soft illumination on the surroundings, creating a gentle ambiance. As he steps out of the vehicle, Johnny glances at your house, eyes filled with curiosity. You get out of the car and into the crisp night air is crisp next. The cab door closes behind you, the vehicle pulling away and leaving you and Johnny standing in the cool night air. The world outside is hushed, as if holding its breath, and the energy between you two remains palpable. The moment is pregnant with possibilities. 

You drag Johnny to your house by the hand, unlocking the door with only the moonlight to guide you. Leading him into your house, you take your shoes off in the entryway, waiting for him to do the same. When Johnny is done taking off his boots, you lead him to your bedroom in the dark, heart beating faster and faster the closer you get to your destination. 

Without bumping into anything, you reach your room, quickly running to turn on your bedside lamps. The few times you had a chance like this, you opted for the softer lighting of lamps over the harsh luminescence of the overhead lights. 

The ambient glow accentuates your soft, round features, casting a gentle radiance upon you. The warmth and subtlety of the lighting create an ethereal ambiance, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. Johnny, momentarily caught in the beauty of the moment, watches you with wide, twinkling blue eyes. 

As his brain catches up to the visual feast before him, his eyes sharpening with hunger for a taste of you, Johnny rushes to you, pulling you into a searing kiss. He commandeers you with unspoken authority and leading hands, their touch firm and possessive as they steer you wherever he wants. And where he wants you is on your back, on your knees, and on top; he doesn’t mind as long as he gets to have you. 

He will have you. 

Pulling away from his bruising kiss that lingers as you move, you take one of his hands—the one he had gripping your waist—in yours, walking backward toward your bed. When the back of your knees hit the bed, you plop down on your plush ass, giggling as you bounce a bit. 

Your laughter is a melody that makes Johnny smile, his white teeth showing as his lips curl. As you settle into the bed, Johnny positions himself between your legs, his wide stance forcing them further apart. He forces your head up as you lean back on your hands, bringing your lips together once again. Johnny cants his hips into yours, thick erection tenting his pants and pressing against your core. The breathy moan you let out in response to the stimulation allows Johnny to slip his tongue into your mouth for the second time tonight, eager to taste more of you. 

Johny continues dragging his dick against your core while he releases your lips from his, sliding them down to your jaw. He begins licking and nipping at the juncture where your jaw meets your skull, pulling breathy moans from you. 

Johnny's lips trace a path from your neck to your earlobe, where he delivers a gentle nip. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and his warm breath against your ear makes your heart race.

"Keep making those noises, Bonnie," Johnny whispers, his voice a low, seductive murmur that resonates in the intimate space between you, "and ye won’t be gettin’ rid of me."

You let out a nervous giggle in response as your body rocks against his, following his easy movements. Your giggle gets cut off with a choked whine when his cock hits your clit just right. Johnny huffs hot air into your neck as he works to keep the angle just right so he can keep hitting your clit. After a minute of this, you shove Johnny back by his shoulders, sitting all the way up. 

As Johnny stumbles to keep his footing, you stabilize him by placing your hands on his hips. After he was steadied, you use your hands on his hips to your advantage by slipping them underneath his shirt to feel his scarred abdomen. 

The soft glow of the bedside lamps casts a warm hue over the room as you sit back, a smile playing on your lips. Johnny's muscles jump under your touch as you glide your hands up his torso, rucking his shirt up with them. Johnny allows you to slide his shirt off. His arms lift in cooperation, and the fabric is discarded, revealing his defined physique. The soft illumination accentuates the contours of his body, making his abs appear extra defined in the gentle light.

You glide your hands back over his stomach going down towards the low-sitting waist of his sweatpants. As you go to palm his erection through his pants, Johnny grabs your hands in one of his larger ones. 

“Not yet, Bonnie. I wanna taste you first.” 

After Johnny states this in his rumbling, accented voice, he releases your hands from his grasp and pushes you fully up onto the bed, your feet no longer dangling as your back hits the bed. Breathing heavier and your pussy pulsing with need, you watch with lidded eyes as he crawls towards you on the bed, a predator hunting his prey. He looks like a god as the lamplight illuminates the sharp features of his determined face, mouth shit in a tight line, and eyes focused solely on you. 

Johnny stops just before you, hands wandering up your covered legs. 

“Can I take these off, Bonnie?” he asks, fingers pulling at the waistband of your pants and underwear. When all you do is whimper in response, he tuts and shakes his head. 

“I asked you a question, lass. You best answer it.” 

You manage to breathe out a “Yes, please, Johnny” in response. 

Johnny nods his head in approval of your verbal queue, hastily fumbling with the button of your pants before tearing them—and your sopping panties—down your legs. He watches as your thighs spill from the fabric covering your lower half, the flesh jiggling slightly from the force used to rip the pants and underwear away from you. He is practically drooling and growling, desperate to get a taste of you, to get to see all of your soft body on display for him. 

Deciding he wanted you naked before he ate you out like a wolf starved, he crawls a bit farther up the bed to tug your top from your body with warm hands on flesh, matching your steps from earlier. When he’s got your top,  pants, and panties off, he leans back to leer at your uncovered body, laying so pliant in just your lacy underwear. 

All for him. 

Matching his thoughts, Johnny cups your breasts through your bra and thumbs your peaked nipples, purring, “Is this all for me, Bonnie?”

You nod your head with a shuddered breath before remembering his command. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” 

Johnny continues his assault on your nipples, tugging and tweaking them to total hardness through your bra while kneading the fat of your breasts in his large, warm hands. He doesn’t forget his objective, though—he never fails the task he is given; he stops the assault on your top half to slide under you, forcing your back to arch prettily, thrusting your covered breasts towards him. Johnny uses the space to unhook your bra with one hand, helping you remove it from your arms before diving head-first into your chest, nuzzling his nose into the crevice between your tits, and inhaling through his nose noisily. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Bonnie, you smell so good.” 

His words cause your body to heat up, squirming in his hold. He opens his mouth and laps at your skin like a dog, groaning throatily at the salty taste of your skin. 

“Johnny!” you squeak. 

Johnny pulls back with a smirk, mockingly saying, “Bonnie!” in a high-pitched voice. Then, looking straight into your eyes with his stormy blues, he orders, “Be a good girl and open yer legs for me.”

You’re useless against his accented voice, following his order without thought. Your thick thighs part, making a slight sticking noise from the wetness left from your weeping cunt. The glistening sight and moist sound of your wet heat causes Johnny to groan deep in his chest, his dick throbbing in his sweatpants. If he wasn’t careful, he would end up fucking you sooner than he wanted. So, instead of waiting any more, Johnny scoots down the bed, his feet hanging off the side, and lays down flat. His broad shoulders force your legs wider until he has your chub squished in his hand, dented with the force he’s exerting, dragging your legs over his shoulders, hovering by his ears. 

“Don’t be shy, Bonnie. I like it rough,” he says with a wink before diving into his meal. 

The first hot, slick swipe of his tongue over you has you keening, hips bucking into the feeling. However, you can’t move far because Johnny’s got his hands fastened across your hips like a seatbelt, holding you to his starving mouth. He continues licking from the bottom of your pussy all the way to your clit, flicking his tongue once he gets there. His scruff burns against your thighs, but it only makes you hotter. Your head is pushed back into your bed, neck bared, back arched sensually, and one of your hands grips Johnny’s brown mohawk with trembling fingers, the other gripping your sheets tightly. 

Your breathy noises and tangy taste drive Johnny crazy, right along with the way you feel: soft, pliable, squishy in his hands, so malleable and willing. You submit to his every word, every touch, every breath, and he can’t get enough. Gripping you harder at the hips—probably leaving bruises, though he’s a little satisfied by the thought of staking his claim—he drags you impossibly closer, burying himself in the smell and taste of you, muffling his groans in your skin. 

Moving on from lapping at the whole of you, Johnny instead focuses on your dripping entrance. He drags his tongue over it several times before dipping into you, hips bucking into the bed at being able to taste you from the source. Johnny continues dipping the tip of his tongue into you until you’re whining loudly, pleading for more. 

He sticks his whole tongue into your pussy, swirling it around and scooping more slick into his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his head; Johnny could die here, and he wouldn’t be mad. Shaking his head back and forth, he rubs his nose on your clit, making you cry out. 

“Fuck, Johnny, please!” 

Following your pleading cries, Johnny eases his tongue out of you, instead latching his mouth onto your clit and sucking hard. Your eyes close in ecstasy, completely missing the sly smile that graces Johnny’s lips as he—reluctantly—removes one of his giant hands from your waist.

Suddenly, your eyes are flying open, and you’re nearly screaming as you’re filled with two thick fingers. 

“Mmmm, Bonnie, yer squeezing me so tight, and yer so wet. I can’t wait to break you on my cock.” he mumbles against your skin. 

With the thought of you stretching around his cock, Johnny ups the ante, pumping while crooking his fingers to hit the spongey spot at the front of your tight passage just right and sucking on your clit like it was his favorite candy. He has you screaming in minutes. 

Johnny’s fingers slow down to a gentle coaxing, and the suction of his mouth becomes gentle licks, helping you ride your orgasm down. He has wrung every drop of pleasure from you, leaving you relaxed and breathing heavily on the bed, thighs twitching with his gentle caresses. But he isn’t done with you yet. 

Popping his wet fingers into his mouth and sitting up, Johnny moans at the taste of you. 

Slapping your red, beard-chaffed thighs lightly with wet fingers, watching them jiggle, Johnny says, “Damn, lass, you taste so good. I could lay between your legs until I die.” 

Not waiting for a response, Johnny slides out of his sweatpants and releases his erection. Your eyes widen, and a dull throbbing begins at the bottom of your stomach as you watch him slap against his taught stomach. He is huge—huger than you’re used to—not the longest, but certainly the widest; Johnny’d had to have the fattest cock you’ve ever seen, brownish in color with an angry red, drooling tip. 

Noticing your look, Johnny says, “I ken, Bonnie, I ken. I’m a lot ta take, but we’ll make it fit.” 

At this, Johnny shuffles back between your thighs, lifting your legs so they fit over his hips. Taking a hold of his dick, Johnny pumps himself a few times, smearing his pre-come around his cock. Then, he slides it through your wetness, teasingly bumping your clit as he does, just to see your pretty lashes flutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

And then he’s telling you to “Kepp those pretty eyes on me, lass,” using one hand to stroke your overheated cheek.

Your eyes snap open at his gentle command; the air of confidence and authority lacing his gravelly voice catches your attention through your haze. You would do anything he said—jump off a bridge, go running into a house fire, or set your home ablaze—if he used that tone. 

Now that he has your attention, he can finally get to splitting you open. Looking down at where you two meet, Johnny places his dick at your weepy entrance with barely-there pressure, causing him to groan slightly. He shakes his head to clear it before looking back at your eyes. 

“Can I, Bonnie? I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

A weak “mhm” is all you get out before the pressure builds, and he’s slipping his thick cock inside your tight pussy. Your eyes slam shut at the burning sensation, hands latching onto his muscular thighs and leaving crescent moon-shaped indents. One of his hands comes up to tap your cheek, reminding you to keep your eyes open. Then he’s bottoming out, curving just so that his head hits a spot you didn’t think existed. 

Johny sits, fully embedded into your fluttering cunt, breathing through his nose so as to not cum already. He leans down, pelvis hitting your clit, and catches you in a searing kiss, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him stretching your gummy walls. When you start bucking your hips against him slightly, he pulls back from the kiss while pulling his hips back slightly before he’s sharply thrusting back into your wet heat. Your sharp exhale spurs him on, eyes lighting up in victory and a smirk curling at his lips. 

You can barely hold on as he rapidly picks up a punishing pace. Johnny angles his hips just right to consistently slam into the spot that makes you see stars, his hips slamming into yours with loud slapping sounds. Your whole body jiggles with his movements, entrancing Johny with the subtle movements. He knows he won’t last long, being as pent up as he is. But you’re close, too; he can tell with how tight you’re squeezing him. 

“I can feel how hard yer squeezing me, Bonnie,” he rasps, “I ken yer close…cum for me.” 

Johnny’s words, along with his authoritative tone and the hand he snuck between your sweating bodies to rub at your clit have your back arching and eyes snapping shut. A primal scream of his name leaves your throat while you’re cumming so hard that all you can see is white, and you lose your hearing. 

You’re squeezing Johnny so tight he’s almost pushed out of your wet heat, walls spasming so hard and so frequently. Your almost unintelligible moans of his name are what send him over the edge, folding him in half so he’s growling his release in your ear. His eyes are shut tight, blue eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his hips twitch sloppily as he rides out his orgasm, painting your innermost walls white.  

The world returns to focus as your hearing returns, and you flutter your eyes open blearily. The room, once a blur of shadows and soft glow, slowly sharpens into view. The sounds of heavy breathing and the rhythmic beat of your heart fill the air. 

Johnny, now pulling out and watching hiss cum dribble out of your fluttering cunt, is a silhouette against the ambient light, his features softened in the aftermath. A gentle calm settles over the space as the echoes of passion subside. The soft illumination bears witness to the aftermath of an unexpected encounter that unfolded in the shadows and soft glow of the night.

The night's warmth, both in the embrace of Johnny and the aftermath of shared intimacy, provides a comforting cocoon. As you lie cuddled up with him, the realization of how utterly fucked you are dawns upon you — you've grown attached in just one night. Unbeknownst to you, Johnny’s having the same thoughts as he cradles your soft body closer. 

As the night deepens, you and Johnny find yourselves entangled in each other's arms, sharing the same thoughts of attachment and connection. The soft glow of the room envelops you, casting a gentle light on the intertwined figures lost in the quietude of slumber.

The echoes of the night linger in each of your dreams. As you fall asleep in the embrace of shared warmth, visions of a life together dance through your subconscious. The dreams weave a tapestry of shared moments and whispered promises.

The room, once a witness to the intensity of passion, now cradles you both in the tranquility of sleep, the words once muttered by the Scot, “Imagine being loved by me,” ringing in your ears.

taglist: @tinygarbage @pamasaur @cool-iguana

[suckitsurveys]

Why did you close the door the last time you closed one? I closed the door to get into the office because it’s supposed to be closed. Stripes or polka dots? Either are cute. Do you care if people touch you when they’re talking to you? Depending on the person, but usually yes I do care don’t touch me that’s weird. What is your gender? I’m a woman.  Do you think that people think its obvious? Assuming people’s genders is gross.

How long did your first date last? *shrugs* Is your favorite color within 10 feet of you? It’s on me, even. Highlight of your day? Having the window open with the smell and sounds of the storm that just happened. Would you rather be on a boat or a plane? A plane. Can you tell when girls (or guys) have eyeliner on? Uh, yes? Can you cook? I could be better. How high is your ceiling? I have no idea. Maybe 7ft? We are in the basement so they aren’t too tall. Whats the worst job you can think of? I don’t know. Do you swear a lot? Fuck yeah. Does the last person you texted have an O in their name? In his last name, yes. Is everything working in your house? Uh. Would you rather have a pool or a trampoline? A pool. Does pop give you energy? No, it makes me burp and feel gross. TV show you love with a passion? BOB’S BURGERS!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you think you learned anything from the worst night of your life? Life goes on, as cliche as that sounds.

Perfect age to get married? Whenever you’re ready.

Is it safe to say you own over 20 pairs of shoes? I probably own just about 20. Name a career path that women are known for taking. Whatever the fuck they feel like. Favorite type of cookie? Sugar. A quality you look for in choosing a significant other? Humor. What would I find if I looked in your pocket? Nothing. Maybe lint? What was your first word? I have no idea, probably something basic like momma. A musical instrument you wouldn’t mind learning how to play? Guitar. Last time you went to 7-eleven? Oh man, it’s been a while. I should have gone yesterday, it was free slurpee day. A fast food restaurant that you hate with a passion? I wouldn’t call it “with a passion” but I don’t like Burger King. Does everyone in your family have a job? Sure. Going anywhere this weekend? Not like on a trip, no. Is your room ever clean? It usually is. What does it mean when youre being quiet? I’m not talking. Last person you had a face to face conversation with? Miles. Wheres your phone? Next to me. Do you know the difference between your and you’re? Yes I do. How late did you stay up last night? Til about 1. Anyone you’re ready to kill? Sometimes I feel that way. Do you need to get a tan? Nah. My sunburn is turning into one. What do you want? Healthy and happiness. Favorite TV show as a kid? Pokemon, Garfield and Friends, Tiny Toons.

Whats a show that you absolutely refuse to watch? The Big Bang Theory. How many times have you been in love? Twice-ish. Go camping or go to a party? Camping. Do you remember how old you were when you started swearing? When my sister would baby sit me, she used to let me have “swear time” when I was like 4 haha. How many years older than you would you date someone? I’m good where I’m at. Mark is 5 years older than me. What was the last thing you pinky swore on? I don’t remember. Would you consider yourself a nice person? Yes. Are there a lot of mirrors in your house? No. We need a full length one really bad. Has there ever been a serial killer in your house? I mean, it’s possible.

Do you know anyone who looks like Adam Sandler? No. True or false: Glee is annoying. True. Last thing you cooked? Oatmeal for my grandmother. Do you use slang often? Eh. Wear glasses? I do. .

About how old was the last person that hit on you? Maybe 30 something? What color are your headphones? White. Would you make a good teacher? Why? Fuck no. Don’t you hate those commercials that try too hard? Whatever. Is the fan on? The AC is. Any special reason why you’re taking this survey? I’m bored because there are like no emails coming in right now. What does the last text message you sent say? I sent Mark a recipe.

Your friend needs you to run to the store to get a pregnancy test. Do you? Of course. I don’t see why she wouldn’t be able to do it herself, but I would totally do it if she asked me. Do you log out on facebook when you leave the site? Sometimes. What color are your underwear? They are white. How short are your nails? They are pretty short right now. I need to take this polish off and put strengthener on them so they can grow enough to get a no-chip before my wedding. Do you like the opposite sex to be dominant or you the one in control? Sure. Favorite holiday? Halloween and Christmas. If I asked you to point to Ohio on a map of the US do you think you could? Yes. Youre locked in a room with spiders. Do you have an issue? I’d be more freaked out about being locked in a room tbh. Do you wear your most expensive item of clothing often? No. Do you eat a lot of food? I try not to.

Have your parents ever tried to control your relationship? Nah. Have you ever had to give someone directions before? Yes. Speaking of which, are you good at understanding driving directions? I’m terrible with directions in terms of North South, East, and West, but I know street names and things of that nature. How many people do you text daily? 2 or 3. Mark, Kayla, and Ellen. Do you play any instruments? Which instruments do you play? No. Is there anyone who you call by their last name? No. What did you do on your last birthday? My friend Sarah came down from Boston! Which of the Seven Deadly Sins do you commit the most? Gluttony. Has anyone ever told you that you’re incapable of whispering? No? What is your least favorite subject in school? English. Have you ever been involved in a custody battle before? Nope. Do you know a couple who constantly sucks on each other’s face? Nah. When was the last time you watched a YouTube video? Today. Have you ever babysat a newborn baby before? Yup.

When was the last time you held someone’s hand? Yesterday. How many meals have you eaten today, so far? Two, with some snacks inbetween. I need to work on a snack/food schedule. Do you think it’s stupid for people to call others “hot?” Whatever. Do you personally think Wikipedia is a reliable source? Not 100%, no. Have you ever shopped at Wet Seal before? Did you like it? I’ve been inside one before but I don’t think I ever bought anything. Do you care about spending money if it’s someone else’s money? Yeah, What is your favorite Disney movie of all time? The Emperor’s New Groove and Moana. When you were a child, did you ever want to become a wizard/witch? No. Would you rather have hardwood floors or carpet? Either is fine. Who was the last person you yelled at? Why? My grandmother because she was being super bitchy. As a kid, did you ever go to camp? No. Have you ever made out in a movie theater before? Nope. Are you currently trying to learn to play any instrument? No. When was the last time you went somewhere you thought was haunted? I don’t know. Who was the last person to compliment you? I don’t know. How old were you when you got to go on your first date? I didn’t have any restrictions. Would you call your parents over-protective or under-protective? They were fine. Did your parents ever let you play in the pits of those multicolored balls? Yeah. Have any of your siblings ever had a crush on your significant other? No. Do you still watch cartoons on television? Yes. What do you usually order at Taco Bell, if you go there? Just tacos and a baja blast! Is there anyone currently annoying you? Always. Have you ever felt like someone was following you? When I’m driving sometimes.

Do you like short or long surveys the best? In the middle. This one has been going on for forever. I’ve actually deleted some questions. Have you ever bought fake money and tried to make it pass for real? Why would I buy fake money? Why wouldn’t I just use the money I spent on the fake money?? Are your siblings nice the majority of the time? I have a love/hate relationship with my sister right now. Do you freak out when a thunderstorm comes along? I get a little uneasy, especially if I am alone. How often do you shower? Every other day. Have you ever had to sell something for a school fundraiser? Yes. How many sodas do you usually drink in one day? 0. Have you ever met someone who was completely weird all-around? My favorite kind of people. Do you ever watch any soap operas? Nah. Have you ever met someone who was mean to everyone? Yup. Do you think long surveys are boring or entertaining? They can get a little boring. Like this one oops. What color is your significant other’s hair? Dark brown. Have you ever applied for a job at Walmart before? No. Would you ever become a foster parent? To animals. Are you ashamed of anyone in your family? Yes. When you get married, will you convert your last name? Yes. Are your parents divorced, married or separated? My father is widowed. Has someone ever left a relationship with you for someone else? Yup. Every time I’ve been dumped was because of that hahaha. What’s the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced? Losing my mom. When was the last time you went shoe shopping? It’s been a while. When was the last time you cried? For what reason? Yesterday I read a story about a kitten who had FIP and had to be put down before he was even a year old. What is your favorite shop to go to at the mall? The food court. Have you ever been raped before? Jesus. Why has this been a question in so many surveys I’ve taken lately? Anyway, by definition, yes. Would you ever consider becoming a marine biologist? No. Did you carry a lunchbox as a child? No. On days when I did bring my lunch it was just in a brown paper bag. What is your favorite ‘sweet’ to eat? Brownies. Are you someone who usually eats when you’re bored? I was, but I have gotten so much better. Have you ever eaten your way through a breakup? Nope. Who was the last person you texted? Mark. Do you usually buy popcorn when you eat at the movie theater? Yes, of course. Did you sleep alone or with someone last night? Alone. Mark stayed at the apartment while I stayed at my dad’s. What kind of dressing do you eat on your salad, if any? Bleu cheese. Are you someone who constantly likes to wear hats? No. Have you ever seen a Lifetime movie that relates to your life? Hah. Is it your summer vacation right now? Well it’ summer. Do you like traveling? I do. What color are the walls of the room you’re in right now? White with a purple accent wall.

Do you go to church regularly? Nope. Who’s your best friend? Lydia, Sarah, Randal, Mark. Are you determined? Yes.

Are you always looking for/in a relationship, or do you like being single? I’ve been in the same relationship for the past 6 years. Ever had your heart broken? Yes. Even broken someone else’s heart? Yes. Are you confident? Usually but I have my moments. When’s the last time you smiled? A little bit ago. Are you tan? Burnt.

Any big plans for today/tonight? Getting my oil changed after work, going to the gym, maybe to the grocery store, picking up Mark and getting tacos for dinner since it’s going to be kind of a late night. What’s the background on your computer? A galaxy. Do you have days where you just want to listen to sad songs? Sure. Who’s the last person you kissed? Mark. Are you hoping they will also be the next person you kiss? He will be.

[enigmatic-elegance]

Mas’ list of people you should absolutely be following.

A bit long, but these are the people who absolutely deserve praise. Either for their work, their writing, or just for who they are. This is by no means an exhaustive list, nor is this a list of the only people I respect and admire. If anything, it is a baseline to show a sample of some of the amazing people in this community. For privacy sake, I won’t use IRL names where I know them. I’ll just go by character/blog names.

Betty [[@bethannyleeder @gilneanrose]]

First off, if there was a crown for walk up RP, this woman would be wearing it 24/7. She can enter just about any setting and own it, and not only that but she can make a whole room feel included too. I’ve seen her convert whole taverns from a bunch of people standing off in corners doing nothing to a whole table surrounded by laughing players. She makes others come alive, and that’s not something that many RPers can do, at least not so naturally as she can.

But what’s more, she’s one of my closest friends. My guild would not exist were it not for her. She helped me back on my feet after a bad guild, and gave me the strength to pick up and chase my own dream here on WrA. I owe all of my guild, my friends in this game, in no small part to her.

Despite the fact that we are both loud mouths, I love this gal. She will go out of her way for you, and guarantee one hell of a ride on the way both in writing and story evolution. Proud to call her my officer and my friend.

Stab [[@grannyshanny]]

I wish for one second this dude could see himself how I do, and how the rest of the guild does too. Some people write their characters, some people make them, and some select few pour their heart into them. They put their own love, their own emotion, their own life-giving breath into their characters to where they stop being characters and they feel alive. This is what Stab does, and he does it with such abandon that it’s inspiring to the insanity of the writer’s mind.

He shares my love of storytelling, he shares my love of creation, and all in all if that was not enough, this kid will put it all down for anyone. He has a calming presence that can make you feel like it’s all going to be okay. Even if you don’t know, even if he does not know, you feel okay with him around. He’s been through it, and will help you through it too when needed.

Biggest goddamn heart in a smol body. Love this guy.

Wolf [[@eldricceverton]]

In terms of pure writing talent, this guy ranks up there for me. Get him into a one on one RP, and he will blow your mind not only in the sheer volume of his posts/stories, but also with how well it all flows. He etches a picture out that you can follow and engage, and I’ve never been in an RP with him that felt stagnant.

Moreso, the dude is like a personal body guard. He will throw down for his friends, and throw down hard. He sticks up for those he cares for, just like his character, and that is loyalty to a rare degree. It’s encouraging to know people like him still exist.

Mahat [[@the-elf-mahat]]

When I first met Hat, I fell in love with the character. Fun, energized, and all around brilliant. But as I got to know her, I saw it to be just the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the shy exterior lies one of the most caring souls I know. She thinks about things in ways even I sometimes forget. She’s in tune with the way people feel, think, and express themselves on such an intuitive level that it borders on empathic.

She is honest, will tell you when she thinks you are right and when she thinks you are wrong. But it’s always done in such a respectful and gentle manner that it is powerful and moving. She’s given me pause at times, and I feel I’m a better person from her influences.

To say nothing for her writing. I don’t catch her in game nearly as much as I’d like, due to work, but the times we have RPed she can twist emotion and word into a poetic symphony.

Soap [[@soapiewhitacre]]

This lil love has recently hit a bit of a writing rut. And I know those can be one hell of a time to get out of. That does not change, however, the sheer quality they have brought to the table thus far. Their character Sophie is a gem, and every interaction with her feels so full of life and vibrant that I just can not help but wear a smile when I’m writing with them.

She’s like a cloud break on a rainy day.

Sheep [[@thebattlesheep]]

Sheepy was a bit of a gamble when we first met, for personal reasons. And if anyone alive is a perfect reason why one should not hold prejudice, it is her. Ria has absolutely put time and love into this guild, and into all of the members too. What’s more, she’s absolutely overflowing with affection and care. It’s palpable when you speak to her. You feel heard, you feel cared for, you feel important and you feel loved. That alone just makes me want to be around her, even if we are not RPing.

But for real girl you gotta do the bakery more. I love that shit. <3

Vel [[@kingofthewolves]]

Fuckin love this kid.

Him and I started really writing together in earnest only about..a bit under a year ago. Since then, he’s elevated the standard I hold for myself when I write relationship RP, and even all forms of RP. I feel encouraged to always write my best with him, and feel compelled to push myself to better forms of wording if only to mark myself up more and more in their view.

But moreso, they have shown extreme patience, understanding, and friendship. A sort of person I wish lived closer so I could buy them a drink or twenty. They are a loyal friend, an ally, and a damn good person all around.

Brooke [[@firebiter @brooke-it]]

A new friend, but one I am happy to call friend. It started with me drawn to the way they RP. And one night we spent a few hours talking and I saw there was a really, really amazing person there too. Someone I’m honestly looking forward to getting to know more and more through talks and through RP.

Addie [[@addie-the-pirate]]

Relatively new to WrA, but dove right into the guild and into the goings on. Engaging, supportive, and always pushing and striving for the story or for the next event. Their hunger for content is refreshing, and they will be the first to dive headfirst into a plot. They are a GM’s best friend, and beyond that, they have shown to be a good friend too. Nothing but positive from them.

Xana [[@xana-the-witchhearted]]

They have been a part of this guild almost as long as the guild has been a thing. Early on, they proved to be a good writer and an all around sweet person. But then I got to know them more and more. Behind the calm and relatively subtle exterior is one of the single most genuine sweethearts I’ve ever met. They absolutely light up my world just by saying hello, and any time I’m even the slightest bit upset they are the first to message me to ask if I’m okay. Often times..they have been the only one to even notice, which shows just how in tune they are with others.

These three nerds [[@the-news-nerd @risrielthron @percy-dewdancer]]

All in my category of ‘fuck why have we not RPed more!?’ All three I’ve only spoken to on a personal level a few times, and RPed with a few times too though each time it’s been amazing. The reason they are all here together on this list is..these three I think represent the same heart for this server that I have.

All three of them have heard me gripe, and have shared their own too, but what’s most important is all three have shown me they love this place. They put it all on the line here, when they don’t have to. What’s more, I’ve seen them all take shit for it and still they press on when a lot of folk would give up and say ‘fuck it’. And that takes dedication and love to do.

If you want to see the best of what WrA has to offer, you’d be hard pressed to find better then these three right here.

Coldwall

There are too many of you to tag, and too many I’ve not mentioned here who still deserve so much praise. I won’t turn this into a gush over my guild, but if you are with us here in this family, know you are the strength that I carry with me into fires and the love I show to all of my patients. You all have made me a better person, day by day, and you continue to inspire me with your astounding writings and your love for one another. Never stop being the people you all are.

To this server

There are some amazing people on this server. Too many to list. Too many to tag. These people have impacted me, but all of you here on WrA have pushed me to write better and improved me both in game and IRL. You’ve given me stories that have made me laugh and cry, and memories I’ll carry for all of my life. I like to think the adventure has only just begun, and I can not wait to meet, RP with, and grow with all of you in the months/years to come.

[leo-dale19]

Tap-dancing flame man (short story)

Chapter 1

He can be seen on the shores every night as the sun sinks into the ocean on the nearby horizon. He bristles with flaming porcupine spikes of love emanating from his body, and maybe someone out there knows who he is. I have dreamed of him time and time again, yet his physical appearance is of no surprise - he is there and it is the Now. He puts on a pedoskitis (that’s a foot dance in Universal Love) in rhythm to the stars, who he seems to hold paralysed in fear in the exact same places on the carpet-black night sky, sparkling nails, hammered into a blank carpet by the song of the red dolphins. To be stuck in time is a horrible fate to suffer, but you may still be telling unknown entities you have never known very vital things.  

Sound waves sometimes travel across the island’s landscapes, they climb mountains with agile ease that would put most mountain-trekkers to shame and reach their destination in record time, but noone’s thought of a corresponding reward for their sonic boom efforts. Davy once looked at me weirdly when I asked him if he was thinking of breaking the speed of sound, and Joey’s lethargic greeting is another memory from galaxies ago that still remains fresh in the memory. If you listen closely, you can hear the animals whisper, and the sun’s light at all times of the day, although especially towards the evening as it sets, reflects it straight into my heart. I can feel a burning sensation if I pay attention to it, otherwise it is merely a minor sensory irritation on my walks along the coast. I can hear him tip-toeing on the spot at high speed as he resurrects the past in the burning oxygen around him with his unusual artistry. I can feel and see the molecules of 2017 combust into cluster bombs of 2011. 

I thought of inviting him to the cinema the other day, there is a film-room nearby which we can teleport to if we just focus on our right hand. It’s as easy as that. But the easiest things in this life are the hardest things to realise, and God would never have it any other way. There is nothing we truly want from this life, you can only kid yourself for so long. I’m sure he would understand, but the emotional space in interaction is more important than the intellectual content - I know he would agree. Some people just take on synesthesic sacredness instantaneously,  they’re naturals. The room is spacious and in the corner there is always one of two brothers reading a book I keep meaning to look at, although I know how funny it is already - I read it over his shoulder with eagle-eye vision and have a good memory for specific extracts. I lived an entire life blind until a miracle was done to me in a torture camp and I could see the colour green greener than ever before. The people who conducted the operation told me not to swear, but words have a physical life of their own and just knowing that they do what they do is the best way to express your deepest thoughts. But in the end, everything’s simple and all complications are merely a distortion of the essential. I often wondered whether one could take the simple and convert it back to its initial complex form, but I laughed, thought about why I find that funny when other times I would not and let the thought be syphoned away into one of the few memory holes left in my head. There aren’t many, and the light from the Spinoza soldier on the horizon keeps shining through them. 

I decided I would pay him a visit soon. The red sharks could be sensed in the distance dragging down Eliot’s human voices, but Alfred Prufrock never said they would shriek so loud. Heartbeats and a D piano octave. Spinal Tap said D major was their favourite key to write songs in, but they are from a pre-period of awakening, merely a prelude. Dylan Thomas’s chains still rattle on the waves, but they merely splash transiently ephemeral bubbles like he intended. 

Ancient civilizations ( They seem to always come from islands, is there no depth on the intense land?). They sleep with you at night and respond to your phone calls. The ones in your dreams, of course. The sunrise allows you to see how the bay’s whistling slides on aquamarine tails, upwards and spiralling down.  

Chapitre 2

J’ai la soudaine envie d’écrire ce deuxième chapitre en Francais. Le mode de communication intérieur ne change rien au mélodies des dauphins au loin de la fenêtre, mais c’est le seul phénomène constant sur cette île momentanément monotone et mystérieuse. Je recommence à ressentir ces brûlures cardiaques, elle m’enrhument assez souvent. Le chaud a tendance à donner froid, tel est le destin des frileux d’esprit. 

Je me souviens littéralement de tout les moments et aspects de ma vie antérieure, mais sans aucun désir d’y retourner. Никакого у меня нет желания порвать с этим миром! comme je me suis dit à voix haute en descendant les escaliers de la gare Cornavin sur cette nuit horrible, où la fumée envahissait mes oreilles de tous les côtés et d’anciens anges me paraissaient démons, tellement ils étaient devenus crudes et terrestres. Mais cette exclamation en russe contradit entièrement ce que j’essaie de dire, mais en même temps pas entièrement - ce passé vit avec moi éternellement, mais l’ayant sacrifié au Dieu de la Sérotonine il occupe maintenant un espace beaucoup plus adapté a ses proportions et étendues. Je ne suis pas dans l’état le plus lucide non plus, mais cela fait tout partie de l’image générale. Les planches du Canada résonnent dans les parages avec leur spectrum tout de suite reconnaissable. 

Je n’ai jamais aimé l’admettre, mais il y a eu certaines périodes ou j’éprouvais un sincère mépris pour mes amis qui se droguaient avec leur susbtances. C’était, il ne vaut pas la peine de le cacher, une sorte d’élitisme spirituel entièrement éhonté, mais surement cela venait plutôt du fait que ces nuages toxiques semblaient me persécuter à tous les coins, plutôt que d’avoir quoi que ce soit à voir avec les personnes elle-mêmes. Mais le mauvais temps a tendance à influencer le monde intérieur, vous savez.  

Il y’a des recoins de la conscience humaine qui abondent de salons rempls de fauteuils rouges qui fondent vers l’essence des choses comme de la guimauve éthérée, un bac à sable de l’enface au sucre d’orge. Un des plus grand dilemmes à perturber mon esprit concernait le fait que si tout désarroi et mécontentement origine dans nos propres limitations personelles, à quoi donc servent les autres gens? Ce paradoxe louphoquement solipsiste m’a autant rassuré qu’inquiété. Mais peut-être qu’a la fin, les simplets ont raison - un mélange de tout est nécessaire. You gotta have a little bit of everything, как любил поговаривать мой лучший друг всех времен, самодовольный русофоб Simon. Я его люблю и вся боль, причиненная мне им только сделала меня сильнее. 

Ma fascination avec tout ce qui se trouve à l’est de l’Allemagne me mystife jusqu’à aujourd’hui. Mais je trouve que ce chapitre est déjà allé trop loin (serais-je conscient de ma présence comme écrivain d’un monde imaginé?) et j’ai intention tout simplement de sortir, voir les meilleurs ami non de l’homme, mais de John C. Lilly dans la baie du seigneur. Le Dieu de la Sérotonine me surveille de la haut, mais il sait qu’il n’est pas le début, il est tout simplement une réincarnation de ma vérité. Une accidentelle métamorphose qui a pris place sous circonstances incroyables. Même dans les camps de concentrations et chambres à gaz, l’on peut crier de joie de la découverte du tout-puissant. 

Notre ami flamboyant tape toujours aussi ardemment des fieds. Le soleil se lève mais ce dernier voit en le soldat de la Spinoza son créateur, et non l’inverse. On a toujours besoin d’un plus éthéré que soi. 

Chapter 3 

What year is it? 

2017 feels more 2007 2008 2009 2010 and 2011 than it does like any of its neighbour years that preceded it. The first two chapters of this were shameless stream of consciousness, the strawberry flavoured guitar walls of noise are the priority now. Blonde Redhead’s with their wavy mix of seasons remind me of a girl whose hair I’d like to smell. However, my thoughts feel far more structured than usual and so the haziness of the first part of this story may or may not be repeated. Always the Now, isn’t it? I will die in the coming days. It is the thought with which I start this day, announced by the monolith sun rising on the horizon.

Or maybe I should tell you the truth.

The truth is that I am dead already. This is where I went after that day I ended my consciousness.  Chapter 4

Tanya Kravchenko. A chocolate-coated exotic slav name resounding across the nostalgic hallways of the Donbass Arena in Donetsk, which I have never seen. Past autumns and the wonders of growing up and discovering the world. The cold wind in this parking lot brings all that back, topping it up with a dull grey sky for full beauty.

You must excuse me if any inaccuracy in my story suddenly occurs. I have yet again gotten soap bubbles up my nose. It is a memory from the Serotonin God that finds its way into this purgatory eden and can disrupt the Universal Love consciousness at undesirable moments. However, no damage is permanent here. There is too much love in the air for that to happen. The oxygen on this island is really just molecules of pure love, you breathe, inhale and exhale and it flows right through you, like rain.  

The Serotonin God, if you’re wondering, is what eventually led me to putting an end to my mind. What led me to the event I am describing. 

I had so many reasons to have an incredible life. I was blessed with godly consciousness from day one, quite literally. It came bursting through when I was 14-15 and I realised I could already die happily. Which I do still think is what happened.

It was nearing 1400 hours, the time at which I had scheduled my final appointment with anybody on this earth - my old bus driver from my schooldays, who once told me it was a shame they didn’t see me around anymore (after I went off the grid for the first time).

And yet I did not die, and the Serotonin God still lives.

He just never stops, does he? Look at those feet go. That man in the suit with my name is in the distance, he lives in that French town I brought here from Earth with my love. In the summer you can sometimes see massive fires come from there, but everyone is so unbelievably happy in the dome of consciousness, sailing their boats and riding their racers. Des vieillards en bérets qui jouent à la pétanque, qu’ya t’il de plus Francais? Разве что эйфеловая башня с бутылью роскошненького вина, но увы, придирчивым здесь места нет. Перед всей мощью всеобъемлющей любви, все одинакво бессильны. And yet how he sways! What a sexy groove. Qu’elle divague, cette vague. Evitons-donc d’être trop vague.

The Riverside Stadium, that stayed on Earth. Would love to go see Middlesbrough play.

Chapter 5

Sometimes when I look out onto the beach, I feel I can hear him calling out “Don’t worry, Leo! It was all real! It’s all real! The Serotonin God lives!” as he tap dances away in flames. And he looks so happy in his world, as if dancing in his хоровод to the sounds of Kid A. And we were all just so blissfully happy, hand in hand on the grass… That is who I once was. And somehow, all these years later, I have lost it all and am on the verge of death. I write this all now for I am still in a relatively lucid state. “It was all real! Believe! Universal love awaits after death! Have no fear!” How blissfully peaceful and present he seems. There goes my clarity of mind again. I was in a beautiful world in the supermarket today. The Serotonin God is proof that one can always radically change one's consciousness, expand it to previously unknown extents. How bizarrely I remember that day in autumn 2015, that was the near perfect serotonin god, listening to that electronic artist from Nyon and feeling like I had transcended all suffering, and yet felt insecure about this unknown substance. How strange.

 What is interesting too is the story of the Tap Dancing Flame Man. Here is what I have gathered of it based on his occasional singing on the shoreline. 

 Chapter 6 "Will all those whose mothers are alive step forward JOHNSON WHERE THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING" - it was with this punchline that John Hannon set the cantine table in raptures, an all too popular military joke told far too often in these parts.

The tale of the Schizoid Man

There is a popular song around here; although to call it popular, perhaps, would be a mistake. Only 4 lines of it are known. But known they are by everyone. It goes:

Death seed, blind man’s greed

Poets starving, children bleed

Nothing he’s got he really needs

21st Century Schizoid Man 

For a long time, it was thought the 2nd line said “all it’s solving, children bleed”, and some still sing it that way, instinctively. 

The Schizoid Man, according to local legend, is a being made of pink fire-red ecstasy, however only of the masochistic kind. His form of ecstasy is inherently superficial, yet the intensity of it convinces him of its depth; often, the most tortured are the most naive. How unredeeming and unfair, isn’t it? 

Chapter 7

They’re all still there with you, Leo. You haven’t lost any of them. Besides, you will see it all again after death, exactly as it all happened. The Crown Plaza Hotel remains holy. 

This is what the spirits tell me as I look out onto the island.  Suddenly, I am visited. 

“Leo!”

I turn around, it is me. Another me. Immediately, I can tell it is the Me I wanted to be. The parallel universe I wish I had experienced. 

“Stay alive. You will live my life after you die anyway. You must make the most of what you have. The present moment is still king. If you focus on the right hand, you will get better. Eternal ecstasy is everywhere. Wolfgang Voigt loves you. Ulrich Schnauss too. That evening in Berlin will never be forgotten. The pink aquamarine tunnels of dolphin ecstasy, Ulrich knows of them too.”

I am flabbergasted. 

“Take me to your world!” I beg him

“Sure. And you will experience it as me.”

And thus, he leads me to an EVA pod straight out of 2001 A Space Odyssey

Chapter 8 

Los Angeles, USA 

It’s so sunny here, goodness. Today, I have several important musical dates. I am meeting Flea. Incredible. All these years after the RHCP adventures of 9th grade, I am finally meeting the deities responsible. One Hot Minute. So many questions. Need to ask him about that solo on Nobody Weird Like Me too.