#when inspiration strikes ig

[clumsiestgiantess]

I’ve been thinking… fairies that mimic whatever they’re living in/with.

(long stuff below cut)

Your average tree fairy (a fairy living in a tree) grows to about the size of an adult person’s arm, but an ancient redwood tree can have a fairy guarding it that’s taller than a human. Most plant dwelling fairies are bug-like in nature due to a similar lifestyle.

Tiny flower fairies that range in size from a person’s palm to their smallest finger nail. Instead of having a bark-looking exoskeleton like tree fairies, they have much more plush human skin. Same goes for most ferns and other small plants.

Cactus and thorny vine fairies.. yowch. They have some nasty sharp bone protrusions, but depending on the plant are either rather laid back or constantly on the move.

Types of animal-caring fairies that are the same size as their animal and look more mammalian than bug-like to blend in with them. Some don’t even have wings.

A forest fairy who calls the whole wooded area their territory — slowly but surely growing large enough to rival the megafauna so they can more easily traverse all of it.

Fairies would be extremely adaptable and versatile beings — able to grow (or shrink) and change within a month of living in a new environment. More recently, they’ve begun moving on from natural things.

A clockwork fairy that looks like an intricate little machine, but those lacing layers of metal are actually polished bone structures.

A steel fairy that sits in a melting vat most of the day because their body hardens into a solid whenever they’re not under extreme temperatures for too long.

Airplane fairies look like giant mechs — flying with turbine engines via fuel they refine with foods in their stomach.

Most importantly: a fairy befriending a human. Spending so much time with them that they begin to morph into a more human guise. They smile softly at the little changes in themself as they realize even their body is starting to react to how badly they want to stay with them.

Idk where I’m going with this, but more fairy diversity than just a humanoid with bug wings, pls!

[uwu-scraptrappy]

My fellow crow man fans it is time to FEAST

For I bring to you a fic about mogami when he was younger, but this time I projected big time (also I've hc'ed without proof that he has paranoid schizophrenia so enjoy that). Transgender and some autism beam

⚠️Please please please mind the tags⚠️

[kimsohn]

#YUUUUP I READ THIS#maya wrote this so fast bruh#also reread it and it’s so much better when high

insignificance

pairing . eric x gn! reader about . 2k words, fluff (suggestive) warnings . 16+ cause there is heavy making out at the end, drinking wine, mentions of murder but it's all jokes!!

synopsis . it takes one dinner and a late-night drive for you to fall in love with your fiancé all over again. note . the inspo for this fic was @sohnric's plot twist make-out scene (and this pic) i hope i did it justice 💗 i wrote this on a whim and am posting this at 1am so please excuse me for this monstrosity 😭 tysm @juyeonszn and @mars101 for cheering me on YUPP tagging . @stealanity @invuwrld @gfksn (+ bar)

The background noise of the waiters shuffling around fades away as your two glasses clink together. Vivaldi’s Spring is playing in the background, a piece you’ve only heard once in a blue moon at an orchestra concert. Eric seems to have experienced differently, though, judging by the taps of his dress-shoe-covered foot beneath the table and the twinkle in his eyes.

“Cheers,” you whisper, giddy with excitement.

“Cheers, baby,” Eric whispers back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin.

The wine in your glass swishes as you take a tentative sip. It’s sweet and fruity, and you’ve already forgotten the name Eric rattled off to the waiter as if expensive drinks were second nature to him. They probably were second nature to the Sohn family, considering the elegance of this fancy restaurant, the outfit he bought that now adorns you, and the sparkling ring that sits on your finger.

You set the glass down next to you, already a little overwhelmed with the elegance of this atmosphere. You knew you married rich, but it never particularly occurred to you just how rich your fiancé is. In fact, you feel a little out of place sitting in a chair that costs half of your monthly paycheck and staring at a menu that you once never would’ve been able to. Despite already being engaged to the love of your life, you’re not sure you’ll ever find a way to fit into the intricate setting that the Sohns have grown up in.

“What’s wrong?” Eric asks, seeing the glimmer in your eyes dissipate with your overthinking.

He reaches across the table to take your hands in his, running his thumb over your ring. He traces the lines of it, following the swirl pattern as if he were seeing it for the first time. As if he didn’t spend hours agonizing over what design to gift you, so sure that you would reject him if it wasn’t up to your liking.

(You would’ve said yes even if he proposed to you with a lollipop.)

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” you admit, your head hanging low as the embarrassment clouds your features.

He intertwines his fingers with yours, lacing them tightly. Eric is all too knowing of the nagging thoughts in your brain, telling you you’re undeserving of the man in front of you and the wealth that comes along with it. However, you’ve hit the jackpot in the fact that Eric is always ready to argue back with the devil on your shoulder, even if it’s three in the morning and you’re delirious from sleep or if you’re a little bit too tipsy and crying in his lap. Eric, for lack of better words, is always there for you. Even now, as he holds your hands and stares into your eyes as if you’re the only person in the universe, he is here for you.

“I’m going to eat that little voice in your head so it goes away,” he responds a moment later with finality, extremely serious.

The statement is so absurd and unexpected that it has you giggling, and you grip Eric’s fingers tighter as you lean forward and can’t find it in you to stop. All your previous tension disappears when you look into Eric’s eyes, filled with mirth and kindness.

“You’re crazy,” you voice through laughter, reaching for the wine glass to calm your jumbling nerves.

Eric just shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile that reflects your current predicament.

“Crazy for you, babe. Now stop worrying your pretty little head and enjoy your food, okay?”

And enjoy the food you do. The three-course meal followed by dessert has you clutching your stomach after, full and bloated from the amount of delicious food you’ve consumed. You can’t even bring yourself to take a couple more bites of the black forest delicacy that sits on your plate, but luckily, you have the universe to thank for the takeout box that now rests in Eric’s left hand.

His other hand holds the car keys, and as he clicks the unlock button, the Orange Corvette lights up from across the parking garage. Its bright color is exactly reminiscent of the man standing next to you, exuberant and dashing. You felt like a little kid the first time he picked you up in his car, extremely impressed with the interior neon lights he showed off to you in the earlier stages of your relationship. Now, as his fiancé, the car is something comfortable to you, having seen it too many times to count by this point. 

He helps you into the front seat before getting in beside you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the back of your headrest as he backs the car out. You’ll never admit this to him, but the view of him looking back and inching the car out is devilishly handsome to you, and you have to fight the warmth that rises to your cheeks.

Once he repositions the vehicle and drives forward, the hand that’s behind you now moves to your thigh. The shiny watch on his wrist glints in the moonlight, and he absentmindedly draws circles on your clothed skin to the beat of the song. It doesn’t help that it’s an R&B track, so every movement of his finger is slow and torturous, and every trace ignites fire against the cloth. 

“Eric,” you start, watching as he pulls to a stop before the red light.

“Hm?” he responds, turning his head to face you.

You notice that he’s wearing a singular stud earring on his right ear. You can only pray that you’ll find some strength to survive the rest of this car ride because as soon as it’s over, you won’t let him see the light of day.

“How much longer?” you ask tentatively, like a little kid squirming in their seat.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to focus on the road. It doesn’t help though, because his side profile is just as alluring as his front.

“Couple more minutes, baby.”

True to his word, he exits the main road a few minutes later, driving up a dirt path unfamiliar to you. The road is slightly bumpy, and you’re a little tipsy from the wine so you shift around quite frequently, but Eric’s unwavering, strong grip on your thigh keeps you grounded. The more you stare at his hand, the more sexy you find his hand pressed against the silk you’re wearing.

You’re reconsidering your decision to spend the rest of your life with this ridiculously hot man when he pulls into a forest clearing.

“Are you going to murder me, Eric Sohn?” you tease as he parks the car, swiftly maneuvering the wheel.

You move to step out once he’s done, but he’s faster than you, and he opens the car door before you can even reach for the handle.

“If I wanted to murder you,” he says, holding your arm as you step out, “I would’ve already done so, my love.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you have little to be annoyed about as you survey your surroundings. The dark forest around you is a contrast to the vividness of the car, but nothing seems brighter than Eric’s smile at the moment and the twinkling stars around you.

Eric leads you to a clearing, his hand pressed against the small of your back. You peer over, fascinated at the realization that you can see the whole city from here. The twinkling lights of the bustling city below you are something of a dream, and as you look towards Eric, you can see the stars reflected in his eyes.

Minutes like these, where you’re not surrounded by extravagance, are when you truly feel your connection with Eric. Raw, unearthed, and simply pure, you feel like you’re stripped of all labels. You both are just insignificant specks in the universe, and he is truly just some guy to you in this moment, but you know wholeheartedly that this very guy is the one you truly love. You would never have it any other way.

The grin on Eric’s face is infectious as you face him with one of your own. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, clasping them together as his arms find their way around your waist. 

“Found this place the other day,” he explains as if he could hear your thoughts, “I kinda regret not proposing to you here.”

“Don’t lie,” you mutter, knowing that he definitely does not regret whisking you away to his private condo in the mountains just to put a ring on your finger.

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. The cicadas chirp around you, and all is silent when he calms down except for your two breaths in unison. His gaze circulates from your eyes to your lips and then back to your eyes, and whatever triangle method he’s using is working because one second later, you lean in to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

He tastes like strawberries, and you smile against his lips remembering that you’d gifted him strawberry lip balm two days ago. Your man, your sexy, diligent man, following your orders to take care of his lips stirs butterflies in your stomach. The fact that you hold some kind of power over the Sohn family’s heir makes you feel a little dizzy, but your only response is to pull Eric closer and kiss him harder.

The sweetness of both the strawberry scent and the kiss fade as he presses back with just as fervor, adjusting his arms around you to pull you in tighter. The space between you feels unbearable, and despite the proximity between you two, the gap is still too big for your liking. You need him viscerally, every part of him on you as if the very concept of distance is poisonous and Eric is your antidote.

“Baby,” he whispers, pulling back with shallow breaths, “the car.”

You end up in the front seat of his car, the seat tilted backward and you in Eric’s lap. One of his knees holds you in place against your back, and his hands rest on your waist. The position is far too intimate that anyone walking by will know exactly what’s going on. Your kisses have turned heady, mirroring the darkness in his eyes and the way you clutch onto the front of his black shirt. You work on unbuttoning his shirt, but Eric distracts you with his tongue swiping across your lips and the way he softly bites when you protest. By some miracle, you finish moments later, and you run your hands down his skin. He shivers, and everything feels like pure electricity between you two the way his fingers press into your sides tighter. 

(It will bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care. You’ll simply shrug on a shirt and try to fight a blush as Eric stares at you from the bed shirtless, a knowing grin on his face.)

His kisses trail down your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, finally finding a home in your collarbone, biting and sucking as if it was his favorite pastime. It probably is, with the way he kisses down your shoulder and tugs the strap of clothing down.

Your fingers trace his collarbone, and you hold his head in your hands as he looks up at you. He’s needy and restless, but he’ll always listen to you when you have something to say.

You may be an insignificant speck in the world, but in Eric’s eyes, you’re the whole universe.

“I love you,” you whisper.

It’s all you have to say before he flips you around, pressing you into the dip of the seat as he slides your clothing down. The air conditioning of the car and the ambient music bring goosebumps to your now exposed skin, but Eric makes everything disappear by resuming his previous ministrations.

He looks into your eyes before pressing a kiss right above your heart. It beats against your chest, heavy, and Eric knows it’s only for him. It will always be only for him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, smiling against your skin.

“Forever and always.”

[softspiderling]

elle please give us jace x reader x cregan and my life is yours

i mean when you ask like this how can i refuse….🤭

[phonydiaries]

truly don't know what got into me today I left class and immediately word-vomited a draft of a the Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack angst fic?

[sleepy-bunbun-ace]

ridoace week day 4

guest room / domestic

i knew exactly which unreleased au that's sitting in my drafts my alt to use and decided to write it out instead of drawing it this time. we'll be going back to regularly scheduled art on day 5.

--

"roooosssssiiiiieeeeeeee," ace whined. she stretched herself out on the bed as riddle continued to work at her desk. she'd been there for the past three hours now, only taking a break to either stretch or drink some water. it was starting to worry her, in all honesty.

"i'm almost done, cherry, just a little bit more." riddle continued to work on, pausing to yawn before continuing. ace could only frown before looking up at the ceiling. 'maybe i can make her something to eat? yeah, she'd like that.'

ace stood up before walking out of her rose's room before making her way down the heartslabyul stairs. it was only the two of them in the dorm currently, everyone else still recovering from the sleep malleus put them in. the ramshackle trio sometimes popped in to check in on them but for the most part it was just her and her queen. her absolutely adorable, beloved, shining queen.

before she knew it, she arrived in the kitchen. now, what could she make?

there wasn't a lot she actually knew how to cook. she usually just asked trey or deuce to make her something to eat. oh what was she thinking? trying to make something for her queen to eat as if she knew how to cook?

no. no bad thoughts right now. ed would give her more homework if he knew what she was thinking right now. but...

she looked down at what remained of her right arm. the empty automail port sat near her elbow and shined in the kitchen's lights. she thought about riddle, still working on the repairs for her automail without taking a break. it was decided, she'd make something for riddle.

thankfully there's one thing she knew how to prepare and present well. ace took out a pot from one of the cabinets and placed it on the stove. she took out a measuring cup and filled it with water before carefully pouring it into the pot and turning on the stove. she had time until the water started boiling to prepare the rest.

pre-chopped vegetables (courtesy of trey), an already boiled egg (ace mentally thanked her past self for going to the convenience store), and some seaweed were all grabbed from their respective locations. oh! the ramen! she quickly grabbed it from the cabinet and opened the packaging with her teeth. the water had just started to boil when she dumped the noodles into the water. now to wait.

--

riddle stood up from her desk, finally done with the repairs. she looked down at the repaired arm for her knight. her beautiful, brave, wonderful knight. miss rockbell was a wonderful teacher and ed did a good job at making sure she knew how to repair this certain type of model seeing as it was his own creation.

"that should be it, cherry. now, shall we-" riddle cut herself off. ace wasn't in the room anymore. 'how strange, i thought she had fallen asleep on the bed by now.' she scanned the room in case she missed her cherry, but no, she wasn't in the room. how strange. perhaps she went out for a walk?

she grabbed the automail, carefully to make sure she didn't let it fall, and walked out of her room. there was only one place she could think of where ace could be.

she walked down the stairs and headed straight into the kitchen.

"wait, how am i supposed to bring this upstairs?"

"bring what upstairs?"

"rosie!" ace ran over to her and brought her in for a hug. "careful! i just finished the repairs for your arm!"

her knight carefully let her go before inspecting the automail in her hands. ace gave her a bright smile before kissing her on the top of her head. she couldn't help the warmth that crept up her face, this was still new to her. to think that only a month ago...

"wait, what were you doing in here? i thought you would have fallen asleep by now?"

"weeeeellllll, i kinda made you something as a little thanks! you've been doing a lot lately and i wanted to thank you for everything. soooo i made you some food!" ace stepped away to reveal the food she prepared. it was some type of soup with vegetables, a boiled egg, and some seaweed in it.

ace must have noticed her confused expression. "i made you one of the ramen packets we have. thankfully trey still had some vegetables pre-prepped and i went out to the convenience store in the town earlier this week so i was able to spice it up a bit for you. here, have a seat, you deserved this rose."

it was the best meal she had in her life. never had she tasted something so good. she let her head rest against her cherry's shoulder. this was... absolutely perfect. there was no doubt about it. she wouldn't mind feeling like this for the rest of her life, completely contempt with it. ace wrapped her arm around her shoulder and brought her close.

she'd have to reattach the automail soon but for now, she was enjoying her life. is this what noah meant?

maybe not everything was perfect at the moment. maybe everything would never be perfect. but right now? this was the most perfect she felt, tucked into her knight's side and feeling her warmth.

there was still a long way to go but it was fine. she was her knight's queen, and she'd make sure that her kingdom, her world, would be fine one day.

--

note: if i could draw this scene, the girlfriends would be looking more like their canon selves but with slightly longer hair and ace's automail port. they don't really start to socially transition until a month before this takes place, which is coincidentally when they started dating.

[girl-bateman]

Specialised rejection letter lets gooooo 😭🙌

[horrendoushag]

Izuku decides to take All Might’s advice to heart. Instead of becoming a hero, he’ll be an electrician! It’s an important job, after all. People need their electricity. So maybe the guy he’s apprenticing under is a little shady, and perhaps they get called in to work on the wiring for people who look like they might be villains—and maybe a lot of those villains experience further problems afterwards, clumsy Izuku, don’t mind him he’s new at this—but what about it? He’s just happy to be doing something useful.

Or, in which Izuku causes problems on purpose.

back on my mha nonsense

[faxxmodem]

i wanna make some silly saw valentines this year, if anyone has requests i'll take em 🤙🏻

[wtfforged]

my campaign hiatus has gone on for too long so to cope ive combined my interests at their maximum potency and had some dnd-strawhats thoughts

thoughts in depth under read more... :)!

this is SO self indulgent. their designs literally did not change. but i am a firm believer that dnd doesnt have to be european high fantasy. and also one piece literally IS fantasy. no changes are necessary to fit into dnd. ive already imagined plenty of campaign/oneshot ideas inspired by one piece. so this was basically just an exercise of trying to replicate their canon abilities in dnd 5e as much as possible without totally homebrewing everything. well. aside from luffy. you just cant take away or change his stretching.

LUFFY: (human monk. drunken master subclass. outlander)

the only plain human of the crew to balance out with the fact that he still has rubber powers. obviously a monk. but drunken master subclass specifically because i think the flavor(not the fact that its about being a drunkard) and abilities both fit him really well. this line in the subclass' flavortext especially fits him: "A drunken master often enjoys playing the fool to bring gladness to the despondent or to demonstrate humility to the arrogant, but when battle is joined, the drunken master can be a maddening, masterful foe."

ZORO: (tiefling fighter. samurai subclass. bounty hunter)

a fighter with the samurai subclass is so very incredibly obvious... but i actually had a lot of fun geeking out while comparing the abilities to what he can do in canon; Fighting Spirit, Rapid Strike, and Strength Before Death especially! tiefling is also pretty on the nose for his demon pirate hunter shtick and asura form, but i thought he'd be really human-passing for a tiefling and theorized about his tail getting cut off at some point or another before joining the strawhats. initially wasnt gonna give him a feat, but i gave sanji a feat so i thought itd be unfair to not give him one as well, so sentinel fits the bill pretty well i think!

NAMI: (tabaxi rogue. arcane trickster subclass. criminal)

cat burglar -> full grown literal humanoid cat. this one is INCREDIBLY self indulgent... i love... cats... theres nothing deeper to this and no other reasoning. i took cat burglar and ran with it. can you tell that i love izutsumi dungeon meshi? rogue for the aforementioned burglar-ing as well, and the arcane trickster subclass for when she picks up climatact! the mage hand will be very useful for her pickpocketing. in the future as she levels up with timeskip, i can totally see her multiclassing into wizard as well! weather wizard!

USOPP: (lightfoot halfling artificer. artillerist subclass. urchin)

I HAD SO MUCH FUN THINKING ABOUT HIS CHARACTER SHEET. halfling's Naturally Stealthy ability lets him hide behind his crewmates since theyre (almost) all bigger than him, so its perfect for hiding behind zoro or sanji all the time. Lucky is also perfect for him, and I think Brave fits pretty well too when he puts on the sogeking mask. artillerist artificer is also very fun! tinkering and making magic items for his crew, and i think Eldritch Canon or Arcane Firearm could both be easily reflavored as kabuto or any of his inventions. for emphasizing his sniper-ness, the spell sniper feat was also necessary. i think hes my favorite of all the concepts. big ears and long nose combo is so cute to me.

SANJI: (half-elf monk. drunken master subclass. guild artisan (cook!))

race was mostly based on vibes i wont lie. squints. and that vinsmoke balogna or whatever too ig. but mostly vibes. along with the idea that i think a dwarf zeff raising him would be really funny and cute. monk is also obvious, and same subclass as luffy for mostly the same reasons. though the flavor fits him much less, i think the abilities still fit him perfectly, and this blurb specifically; "Your martial arts technique mixes combat training with the precision of a dancer." i really wanted to give him a different subclass from luffy, but i dislike all the other monk subclasses a lot and i found none of them fit him as well anyways, so to try and give them SOME differences, i gave him the crusher feat.

CHOPPER: (awakened deer(shifter statblock) cleric. life subclass. hermit)

this ones definitely a mouthful im sorry. awakened deer for obvious reasons, but due to magic instead of devil fruit stuff. when i was struggling with his race, i looked a lot at shifter because of his forms, but it occurred to me that itd be super cool if he could shift between all of the different shifter options instead of being stuck with just one to replicate his rumble balls. something like heavy point/guard point=beasthide, horn point/arm point(?maybe?)=longtooth, walk point/jumping point=swiftstride, and brain point=wildhunt. hed definitely need some kind of nerf though to balance out that homebrew... and cleric for class. duh.

ROBIN: (high elf wizard. order of scribes subclass. criminal)

robin is definitely the one i struggled the most with just because of her class. elf came pretty easily- shes very elegant and i think shed look cute with super long ears- and i landed on high elf instead of wood elf for the int-based abilities. i was really on the fence between sorcerer and wizard for her because i knew shed be a full spellcaster, but i didnt feel that any of the subclasses really fit her. i ended up going with wizard for order of the scribes since it focuses on texts and knowing everything. but also because robin with a flying talking sentient book would be crazy cool. it could also be similar to how she spawns mouths and eyes places to talk to or watch people. my "fuck it, why not. this would be rad. its my house" mindset kicked in with her i will admit. also the One with the Word ability made me cackle out loud when i read it. thats the funniest ability ever. anyways, i cant really think of a way to replicate her powers, but maybe we could just reflavor a bunch of spells to be her limbs or clutch; hold person, maximillian's earthen grasp, or evard's black tentacles. thatd probably work okay, and theres a handful of spells to replicate her ability to spawn eyes or mouths. unrelated, but i imagine nico olvia to be a drow. why? her hair is white. i am a simple man!

[prythianpages]

Too Good To Be True | Lucien x Reader

...you're just too good to be true...can't take my eyes off of you...

summary: in which your newest muse catches you red handed.

word count: 1,600

a/n: I do struggle writing Lucien but I had seen this tiktok and wanted to write a meet-cute over it and when I saw this fanart above made by IG user kri_stasss_, I took this as a sign lol. I also listened to the song can't take my eyes off of you like 100x while writing this.

With a sigh, you lean back into your seat, allowing your eyes a break. You had been sitting at the corner of the bustling cafe for over an hour, choosing to surround yourself with Velaris’s warmth and the smell of coffee in the hopes to finally draw something.  But your sketchbook is spread open on the table with a half-finished drawing.

You look at the view before you, the Sidra River shimmering like pure sapphire under the sun’s gaze. The leaves of surrounding trees rustling gently in the soft spring breeze and flowers vibrant hues adorn the riverwalk. It’s a beautiful sight–one that many stop and admire. Yet, it is not enough to fuel the inspiration you so desperately need.

The flowing water and distant laughter of children blend into a soothing symphony as you absentmindedly twirl your pencil between your fingers, thoughts drifting. Send me a muse, you plead to the Cauldron, yearning to feel that thrill again.That spark that ignites your passion of drawing. The very one that moves your hand effortlessly across the paper.

The sound of iron against pavement startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. You blink your eyes back into focus and instinctively, they land on the source of the noise. The table diagonal from you, that had been vacant for the past hour, now has an occupant. An occupant who is blocking your view of the Sidra River, the very one that is half drawn across your sketchbook.

But you can’t bring yourself to complain.

Not when there is a man of striking beauty seated there. 

His mere presence commands your attention, his red hair catching the sunlight and gleaming like fire. You feel your breath catch in your throat as your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face. Brutal scars mar the left side of his face–from his brow all the way down to his jaw. 

Despite this, the male is devastatingly handsome. Ethereal. 

Too good to be true, you think, finding yourself captivated by his eyes. His right eye, whole and russet-colored, holds a depth that draws you in. But his left eye…His left eye is a mechanical marvel, golden and intricate, and gleaming with an otherworldly light.  

And suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to touch him. To reassure yourself that he is real and not just a figment of your imagination. Gods, with a face and built body like his, he’d be heaven to touch…

A rush of excitement floods your veins and you feel a familiar thrill coursing through you. Your hands are turning the pages of your sketchbook until a blank page sits before you. And before you know it, you’re pouring your awe and fascination into each stroke of your pencil. Your eyes flicker up and down as you commit the details to mind, heart pounding every time with the fear of being caught. 

Though you're cautious about it, you’re too lost in his eyes to catch the way the male’s lips curve slightly upwards.

**

Lucien takes the last sip of his coffee, admiring the sight before him. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in twilight hues and dancing across the Sidra River. Along the riverwalk, Fae stroll leisurely. Couples walk hand in hand, children skipping along the cobblestone path, pausing to catch the fireflies that are now visible in the dimming light.

Velaris was proving to be more beautiful with each passing day—a sight he’d never expected from a place like the Night Court. All his life, he had only come to know the Court of Nightmares. A place that truly lived up to his name. And though there were children laughing and running freely, he couldn’t help but still be wary of the City of Starlight. It was still part of the Night Court, after all.

His eyes scan along the riverwalk, golden eye making a soft sound as it moves, in search of something. Or rather, someone. Just as a frown is about to settle on his face, he finds what he was searching for. The reason why he was at this cafe…despite the fact that the best espresso in town was at a little coffee shop in the Rainbow of Velaris.

You.

You are sitting at a bench, knees drawn up and a sketchbook nestled onto your lap. As the sun continues to make its descent, the street lamp near you croaks to life. It bathes you in its soft glow and he is able to appreciate the slight furrow of your brow, the slight way your lips purse in concentration. He wants to know what you're drawing.

Ever since he caught you staring at him at this very cafe, he had an inkling as to what may be hidden within those pages of your sketchbook. He had meant to approach you about it but you had been so into your sketch, he found the sight endearing and feared disrupting you. 

So he had left you to it and showed up to the cafe the next day at the same time in the hopes of seeing you again and he did. That time, your gazes had met and though it had been brief, it felt everlasting. He remembers the way your cheeks tinted with blush before you turned your head away, flustered at being caught. If only you had seen the way he had smiled softly to himself afterwards.

It’s been days since that incident. Though he didn’t find you in that same spot the day after, he came to the conclusion that this was your favorite area to frequent in Velaris. It slowly became his too, his eyes always finding you amongst the busy riverwalk. 

Lucien had never been the shy type–at least, not when it came to pursuing people he was interested in. He had just been waiting for the right time–for the right moment to talk to you. And as you closed your sketchbook with a light exhale, his heart fluttered as he realized what better time than now.

**

Calling it a night, you close your sketchbook with a soft sigh. The sun had been replaced by the moon and the street lamp’s light was too dim for your liking to continue you drawing. You feared messing up what you had meticulously spent hours on. As you rise from the bench and turn to make your way back home, you bump into a smaller frame than yours, the sketchbook in your hold falling from your grasp.

“Sorry, miss!” A lively voice chirps and when you look toward the source, the small child is already far away from you. Kids, you muse to yourself as you turn back around.

Your breath catches in your throat. Standing right in front of you is the male who has become your muse.

But he’s not looking at you.

No, he’s looking at the sketchbook on the ground. Your heart skips a beat, heat rising to your face. The sketchbook had opened to the pages you've been working on—the ones with multiple sketches of his eyes.

You’re frozen in horror, watching as he studies your work. None of you say anything for a moment. It’s when his gaze lifts to yours that you spring into action. “Oh,” you gasp, beginning to bend your knees to gather your belongings. You're absolutely mortified, praying to the Cauldron he can’t hear how fast your heart is racing.

“I’m so sorry.”

Before your hand can reach for your sketchbook, another hand beats you to it.

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice deep and enchanting, causing your hand to freeze in midair. There seems to be a magnetic pull in his words, a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Is there anything about this male that is not attractive?

“I’ve never seen the beauty of my eyes until now.”

The words are spilling from your mouth before you can stop them. “You’re joking, right?”

He’s knelt before you, his hand hovering over your book. But instead of picking it up for you, he grasps for your hand instead. It’s warm and calloused yet feels so good against yours. Like heaven. His eyes finally meet yours, holding you captive. He slowly brings your hand to his lips, and you don’t think you’re breathing as he presses his lips against your skin.

“No,” he grins as he rises to his full height, using his free hand to grab your sketchbook before bringing you with him. “I’m Lucien.”

It takes you a moment to realize he is waiting for you to speak, his presence overwhelming but exhilarating.

“I’m—” you clear your throat to steady your voice. “I’m y/n.”

“y/n,” Lucien repeats with a smile, finally handing you over your sketchbook.

You take it, immediately clutching the book tightly to your chest and avert your gaze, casting it downwards. “I promise I’m not a creep. I was drawing the Sidra–well, attempting to, anyway. But then you came along, blocking my view and something came over me. You see, I’ve been struggling with artist block and your eyes–your eyes are so pretty”--and under your breath, you mutter–” All of you is, if I’m going to be honest…”–Lucien’s smile widens at that–”and I finally felt inspired–oh gods, I’m rambling. I should just shut my mouth.”

Lucien’s russet eye twinkles with amusement. “I inspired you?”

“Yes,” you answer quietly and bashfully.

“Then perhaps,” he says, his voice low and intimate. “I should let you inspire me as well.”

Slowly, you lift your head back up, meeting his eyes once more. A wave of relief surges through you as you find nothing but sincerity and shared interest in his gentle gaze. You find yourself mirroring his smile, and something warm blossoms in Lucien’s chest—the start of something beautiful.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the Night Court isn’t so bad after all.

a/n: okay, that's enough Lucien for now. Can't keep letting him distract me because I need to focus back on the other Vanserra *cough* Eris *cough*

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[o-pandora-o]

Hello, Pandora! I saw that your askbox is open for WHB (hopefully still is, and if not, please ignore this 🙇)

I just thought of this one: what if MC is kidnapped during a battle? I know the angels would kill them on the spot, but for the sake of the plot... 😂 How would the 4 kings react/feel and go about saving MC?

I don't know what would be better - headcanons, drabble, whatever strikes your fancy and inspiration if you feel like doing this ☺️

Thank you and have a great day/night!

Kings React to MC being Kidnapped

Warnings: Profanity/curse words, used gender-neutral pronouns. I didn't write Lucifer because I don't want him to be OOC. I used MC instead of 2nd person POV since I know some people don't wanna see MC and reader/you/your name(y/n) in a similar manner.

a/n: Thank you for this request anon! Sorry if it kinda took some time 😔. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy this! I hope I answered your request correctly 🥺 if not, please do say so. Thank you so much again! For those asking, requests/asks are open!

Satan

🩸Everything happened too fast, he was busy battling Cherubs, he didn't notice the Angel slipped by him and got MC. All he heard was Sitri and Ppyong screaming "SOLOMON!!!" "MCCCC".

🩸Next thing Sitri and Ppyong heard was crunching sounds from His Majesty Satan.

🩸Satan emitted a red smoke, the next thing happened all the Cherubs and Angels were lifeless on the cold floor.

🩸Satan was so mad, but he was very focused. He followed the angel so fast he managed to catch up. The angel and MC were almost at the border of Gehenna until Satan stopped them.

"What do you have there huh? Stealing what's mine?" Satan said with a bloody grin on his face.

🩸The angel held the MC hostage. "Get back or they die" oh boy was it a bad thing to do.

🩸MC was so pissed and tried to headbutt the angel, but it was to no avail. But MC's wrath is filling up Satan though.

" 'Get back or they die' ? What if you go first, huh? " Satan was speedy enough and punched the angel so hard that they fainted. Satan went near MC to check possible injuries.

"That's fucking right. You get what you deserve for taking hostage what's mine." The angel woke up and tried to self destruct but Satan threw the angel far enough.

🩸Satan looked at MC and kissed them. "What was that for?" MC asked. "My reward for saving you" Satan replied with a grin.

Mammon

🪙MC was roaming around Tartaros when angels invaded the country. There were around 3-4 groups of 77 angels with some cherubs and Michael blasting building per building.

🪙MC was with Bimet but the angels were too many. Bimet told MC to run but an angel caught you and flew away.

"You think you can run away? You filthy human!" the angel said as it clutched to MC's arms and torso.

🪙As the angel talked, they didn't notice the giant gold hand in front of them. The giant hand manage to catch both angel and MC.

"This is what happen when I don't keep my treasure for myself. Someone steals them away..." MC heard this voice and immediately recognized that it was Mammon's.

🪙The angel tried his best to cut down the golden hand but it was useless. The golden hand opened, the angel and MC immediately saw Mammon.

🪙The angel saw Mammon and tried to self-destruct. Mammon was quick enough to get MC, and turned around while kind of hugging them protectively. "I should have kept a close eye on my treasure or else they'll steal you again" Mammon said as he was still hugging MC.

🪙MC could feel Mammon's strong hands on their rear though. All's well that ends well ig?

Beelzebub

🕶️It all started when Beel kidnapped MC leaving an angry Satan screaming "BELLLLLL BRING THEM BACKKKK"

🕶️When Beel and MC are midway to Avisos, some angels came up and so Beel had no choice but to put them down to kill angels at the speed of light.

🕶️There were too many, and apparently one speedy angel got MC, earning a scream from them.

🕶️You think the angels were fast? Think again.

🕶️Beel was actually running so fast he was actually looking at the angel with closed eyes and a grin!

"I see you have my food there! Thank you very much for holding them!" Beel said, still eyes closed and grinning like a madman

"Oh! And thank you for being my dinner for today!" Beel said, as he beheaded the angel and caught MC on his arms.

🕶️MC didn't notice Beel actually looted the angel.

🕶️Well, if MC and Beel went to dinner with food he cooked himself after that battle... *Coughs* MC please find a new dish to eat.

Leviathan

⚰️Angels have invaded Hades yet again, this time with several groups with Seraphs involved.

⚰️MC was eating in the palace with Leviathan. Foras reported angels invasion and it seemed that the angel groups targeted the Palace. Foras and the others will be engaging in battle.

⚰️Few moments had passed and several explosions in the palace had happened. The last straw was the main hall had a hole and one of the speedy cherubs almost grabbed MC but stopped by Leviathan.

⚰️Leviathan now engages in battle, angels of many ranks keep swarming the main hall, targeting MC.

"How did these fools get inside?" Leviathan glares, as he battles the angels.

"Apologies, your Majesty. Some of the angels were long ranged explosive shooters..." Foras said as he hurried inside and battled off some angels.

⚰️Leviathan pushed MC into the coffin but Seraph's power kept MC from teleporting to a safe place. Making Leviathan glare even more.

"Can't teleport little Mx. Prey now can't you?" One of the seraph exclaimed. "Thank you for making this easy for us!" A cherub added.

⚰️Leviathan was really mad, however, he didn't notice another seraph approached and grabbed MC. The Seraph's ability is pure invisibility. When he saw it, he was too late.

"Oopsies! Looks like I got the Prey Gabriel marked! Thanks for the me-" the seraph exclaimed but it was cut when Leviathan uttered a "Haaaah? Who said that you could talk to me like that!".

⚰️The seraph's neck was strangled by tentacles, and each of the tentacles were killing angels one by one. Levi got MC back after the bloodbath.

"All of you! Useless! Hang for an hour!" Leviathan uttered to all of his attendants.

⚰️Levi also hanged himself despite MC saying they're alright. But they also think Levi likes to be hanged anyways.

[songmingisthighs]

High End

group : ateez

pairing : hongjoong × model!reader

genre : smut

wc : 2.8 k

warning : explicit smut; oral (m receiving), alcohol consumption, degradation (??), unprotected sex (just no), hongjoong being cocky, mc being a filthy sub, bathroom sex ?, cum eating, idek man it’s confusing like there’s slight spit play ig? and like some pussy slapping, unrealistic depiction of sex. if your sex after this sucks pls don’t come at me. not my fault your partner is not kim hongjoong.

a/n : it’s ass oclock. literally the witching hour like 3.33 am. if i don’t make sense, i am not sorry. you are reading the horny thoughts of a delirious woman who just saw kim hongjoong dressed in balmain and suddenly she got inspired to write about this genre of hongjoong. it’s hongjoong. how can i not? any complaints should be addressed to my chinese lawyer. sue mi.

a/a/n : this is a repost of the first high end fic that somehow did nawt show up on any of the tags I'm seriously so sick of this

buy me coffee?

Kim Hongjoong is a powerful man and you know it.

You saw him when he was invited by Olivier Rousteing himself to get a sneak peek of the newest line. It was obvious to everyone there that Kim Hongjoong was a new face, he had never been seen in the fashion scene before and yet he suddenly appeared next to Olivier himself like they were old racquetball buddies. Honestly, it kind of seemed like Hongjoong was simply Olivier’s newest pet, a fascination of his worldly inspiration.

Or so you thought.

Kim Hongjoong easily commands any room he’s in no matter what he was doing. The first time you laid eyes on him was when he was being introduced to the venue owner. ‘Soft’ was the first thing you thought of him followed by 'delicate’. You have never seen a man with such stature to seem inviting yet absolutely forbidden. There was this aura building simply by him smiling at people and making small talk. There was a moment where your eyes met and you swore you saw a glint in his eyes that seemed… possessive. Your model friends told you to pay him no mind but even as you were called to disrobe and do final touches backstage, your eyes didn’t leave him. Neither did he on you.

Throughout the show, through wardrobe changes, you notice that Hongjoong too experienced some changes of his own. He was eyeing you in a way that was rather different than when you both first laid eyes on each other. The outfit the stylists put on you felt almost like nothing under Hongjoong’s gaze. You convinced yourself that he was eyeing the material and the styling or even the makeup but no, he was practically undressing you. Your assumption was further supported when you saw how his gaze shifted from the model who went before you to you. His rounded orbs that peeked from his sunglasses slanted, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth, his crisp suit showed a noticeable rise of his chest that remained until you turned around, and when you reached the end to strike one last post, you saw him ducking his head to watch you as he let his sunglasses slid down his sharp nose and licked his bottom lip.

So obviously when Olivier brought him over to introduce him to you, you couldn’t help but be intimidated. But when Olivier said that Hongjoong was intrigued with you, you felt your toes curl and your breath hitch. It was even worse when he took your hand gently and planted a soft kiss on the back. The motion was slow and steady as if he was appreciating every minuscule welcome of his gesture from you. Electric shocks coursed through your body from the spot where his lips lingered just a tad bit too long. Not that you were complaining though, you liked the feeling when he made contact. For some reason, the littlest touch felt addicting, it left the spot he touched with a warm sensation that you craved even seconds after it was over. Not only that, but the way he spoke was alluring. Of course, he tried speaking English to you and Olivier, and while it was good enough for you to understand, his manager took over and helped translate. All this time you thought French was the sexiest language but apparently you were wrong because suddenly Hongjoong’s aura changed once he was in his element. That room was his element and you couldn’t peel your eyes off of him, it was as if you were in a trance. You hadn’t even realized that Olivier excused himself and Hongjoong to attend to the guests, wanting Hongjoong to meet some of the people from Balmain itself. While Olivier simply turned and walked away, Hongjoong took a step towards you, tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled a devilishly gentle smile.

“I hope to see you soon.”

Though it was phrased like a request, you realized that it was very much a demand. With eyes that dropped to the hand he kissed, he looked back up to you and left with a not-so-subtle wink.

Had anyone else seen the both of you interacting, they would’ve immediately tried to cut the sexual tension with a sword and they would’ve done it so easily. Kim Hongjoong is a powerful, influential man who knows a lot of things that are in his element. But what he knows most is what he wants and moreover, he knows how to get what he wants. You hadn’t even realized that he slipped something into your hand until you looked at it.

A room key.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It wasn’t clear how it happened, it wasn’t clear when exactly it happened. But you found yourself between Hongjoong’s manspreading legs in the bathtub, sucking his cock as he took sips of his Moet messily. Droplets of the bittersweet liquid fell from the corners of his lips down to your face and into your busy mouth. The taste of his precum mixed with expensive alcohol somehow made your head swirl as if you were experiencing a drug-induced high. You were never one to analyze the taste of cum, but you had a sneaking sensation that rather than the alcohol, it was Hongjoong’s cum that made the alcohol taste better. Maybe it was some sort of a drug, Kim Hongjoong that is, he was your drug. Through your heavy lids, you could see Hongjoong smirking down at you with maniacal ease playing on his lips, taunting your presence and your work. The golden liquid in the tall glass was swirled around to further emphasize the power he had between you. While it seemed like he wasn’t affected much by your greedy mouth trying to coax an orgasm out of him, the way his cock twitch inside your mouth said otherwise. You knew that having him was a good idea ever since you first laid eyes on it when Hongjoong oh-so-casually pulled the tie of his bathrobe to reveal his boner. Never have you been so attracted to someone’s genitals but you knew you just had to have that pretty thing in your mouth.

“You like this, don’t you? You’re enjoying yourself much more than I’m enjoying my cock between your lips,” he mocked. Usually, you wouldn’t appreciate being degraded like that, a sexual act in its own nature is explicit and dirty but somehow he made it sinfully pleasing. You couldn’t help but clench at how he was talking down at you, mocking you for being desperate for him. His chuckle sent a wave of vibration that reached your tongue, “I can see your cunt clenching at nothing. Do you really want me that bad? Do you like my cock that much?” he taunted. The fact that the bathtub was facing a window alluded you momentarily, you were so focused on sucking off Hongjoong that the whole world almost literally blurred away.

For Kim Hongjoong and Kim Hongjoong only, you were nothing but a toy that he could collect and play with however he wanted. But you had no issue with it as upon realization, Hongjoong is a man who appreciates art. Whatever he does has a meaning and the meaning is more often than not uniquely beautiful. To be the art that he possesses to appreciate, was like the highest honour you could ever reach.

The more you tasted him, the hungrier you were. As your head bobbed to take more of him, wanting to get him to cum on your tongue so you could selfishly guzzle his juice for yourself. “Greedy, greedy girl,” he said almost in a disappointed manner as he ran his hand down your hunched back down as far as he could reach, “How can something so beautiful be so sinful?” he sighed. Your mouth detached from his cock when you felt him drag his fingers from just above your ass and up. The feeling of his nails marking you ever so slowly was thrilling; your pussy dripped with arousal, mixing into the warm, soapy water, and your spine arched as goosebumps rose in the path that Hongjoong made. Had you not been kneeling on the tub, you would’ve definitely slipped and possibly injured yourself.

Hongjoong watched in awe as your face contorted in pleasure. He watched as your bottom lip trembled and eyebrows furrowed while your eyes shone with the help of the accumulating tears that gathered from the pleasurable sting. The only thing Hongjoong regret at that moment was how he couldn’t make a baroque painting out of your erotic expression. The lines forming on your face told all the emotions that you were feeling as if it was telling its own story and explaining the harmony. Looking south, your trembling breasts made your state somehow more precious; the stiff peaks looked so inviting but the fleshy mounds warned him to treat you delicately. In contrast to the night sky that served as a backdrop, you looked like a star in his eyes.

Without wasting time, Hongjoong slid into the tub, joining you in a kneeling position as he turned your body to face the window. The gleaming lights of Paris in the night framed the reflection of you with Hongjoong pressing his body tightly to your back. For a moment, you could feel the smooth head of his cock prodding around your pussy, collecting your arousal as if he wanted to collect them so as to not go to waste. Slowly and carefully, you felt Hongjoong’s arms making their way up your arms. Your face heated up when you felt him lift them and lock them behind his neck. “Keep them there. Can you do that for me?” Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of his hot breath and lips on your ear. This man truly knew what he was doing. Which was why he slapped your cunt when you didn’t give him an answer. “I was asking you,” he growled which made his chest vibrate on your back. With a nervous lick to your bottom lip, you meekly nodded, “Yes, sir, I can,” though you tried, you couldn’t hold the crack of your voice which thankfully Hongjoong found adorable so he didn’t even comment on it. “Good,” the hand that slapped your cunt stayed in its place with two of his fingers nestled between your nether lips comfortably. His other hand soon found purchase between your breasts to rest on your sternum. He must’ve felt how quick your heart was beating because he began grinding his cock on your cunt accompanied by his fingers tapping on your clit into the rhythm of your heartbeat. Even if you willed yourself, and you did, you couldn’t help it when your hips jolted into the taps, wanting more stimulation from his fingers as your hole clenched, forcing some of your arousal to drip more to Hongjoong’s cock.

In one swift move, Hongjoong impaled you with his length. The sudden impact almost sent you reeling forward, hurtling even, had it not for Hongjoong’s surprisingly strong grip on your body. Each thrust from his hips sent your thighs trembling in pleasure and it was only intensified when his fingers decided to toy with your clit. Melodious grunts and moans on top of sensuous huff and puff of air should not be as erotic but Hongjoong managed to fill your head with his verbal affirmation of pleasure. Your senses were sent to overdrive while your perseverance was put to the test. Through each slip of your fingers or how your knees buckle, you tried to not falter. “God, Hongjoong,” you moaned, nearly squealing when Hongjoong pinched your clit rather harshly. The sudden treatment caused your body to shiver and it was to Hongjoong’s delight to see your breasts bouncing and legs trying to close.

If you think you were in a state of absolute bliss, Hongjoong was in a whole new plane of existence. He loved how responsive you were to his moves, the way your body sought more of him whenever he touched a new place. He loved how your skin felt against his. But nothing beats the feeling of staking a claim over a pussy, your pussy. Though you both just met, his ego managed to convince him that your pussy was made for him, it was melded to accommodate him and only him. He wondered how he could feel so amazing being in someone’s cunt. Obviously, there is pleasure, but anyone can feel pleasure from anything. Not everyone had the privilege of experiencing heavenly sinful bliss. It felt so right but so wrong at the same time because how was he supposed to live without being inside of you all the time after this? He never wanted to leave. Even if he does, he wanted to make sure to truly make you his.

“I’m going to make your pussy mine. I’ll make sure to leave part of me inside you,” he announced. Your heart skipped a beat, anticipating the absolute recklessness Hongjoong was about to do to you. Words never had such an effect on you but you love it, you love what Hongjoong was doing to you where he wanted to do it with you. The sound of sloshing water and also the feeling of being swayed by the movement of the water due to your activity felt organic, it felt natural. Droplets of water that splashed on your entangled bodies served to remind you of the reality that the rest of the world still existed. But it didn’t seem to matter. Not when you and he were so close to cumming.

Knowing that he didn’t want your hands to wander, you decided that your release was more important. Your right hand left its post to grab the Hongjoong’s hand that was nestled on your cunt. Before Hongjoong could protest, your now vacant left hand grabbed a handful of Hongjoong’s hair on the back of his head, instantly causing Hongjoong to gasp and roll his eyes into their socket. Meanwhile, you worked his hand on your clit, rubbing harsh circles on the abused bundle of nerve frantically. Your hips ground to chase the pleasure on your clit and to meet Hongjoong’s thrusts continuously until you were squealing, releasing your cum. As you rode the high or orgasm, your body tried to curl up on its own, your cunt had a vice grip on Hongjoong’s cock as your legs tried to snap shut. The pleasure was almost too much for you to handle that it started becoming painful. But the pain was too good, so addicting, you wanted more of it and you didn’t want it to stop. So through the pain, with Hongjoong’s other arm keeping you close, you enjoyed every bit of sadistic release.

Hongjoong tried to pump his cock as best he could despite the firm grip your cunt had on him. Thankfully, he managed to unload his seed in time, just as your hole began fluttering. The knowledge that he was making you his along with the sweet sensation of release were the two things Hongjoong could think about. On top of that, he also believed that he couldn’t get enough of it, especially the sight of your body twitching in front of him, decorated by the Parisian lights. It was a boost to his ego. Moreover, when you finally collapsed into the tub with your head resting on Hongjoong’s hip next to his softening cock, Hongjoong never felt more powerful.

In contrast to the activity you both just went through, Hongjoong softly carded his fingers through your hair, gently so as to not cause tangles. The comforting gesture allowed you to close your eyes and enjoy the moment, though your lips decided to show some appreciation to the man by peppering kisses around his hips. “You did such a good job,” Hongjoong cooed affectionately, genuinely satisfied with what just happened. So much so that he took his glass that he abandoned on the tray by the tub to finish off his Moet.

You thought he just wanted to finish off the glass but you were wrong. Because the next thing you know, Hongjoong maneuvered your body to lean back on the tub as he leaned close to you. With his thumb, he gently coaxed your chin open and spit some of the alcohol into your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise initially but the stern yet hopeful look in Hongjoong’s eyes made you swallow the liquid. The slight burn of alcohol was no match to the fire that burned in Hongjoong’s eyes when he saw how obedient you were. Once you opened your mouth to show that you had indeed swallowed the mixture of his spit and alcohol, Hongjoong wasted no time in pressing his lips wholly on yours. The rest of the alcohol in his mouth dripped down to yours, some you welcome down your throat and some dribbled down the sides of your mouth down to your chin and further down, creating a trail to your cleavage. With a last pat to your spent cunt that was leaking his cum underwater, Hongjoong smirked to your lips, “Such a good job indeed.”

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @thesolarplanetarysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo

@asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut

@chloepurpy

[royal-they]

something i feel like people do not talk about enough is how the empire strikes back was a major inspiration for season 4. bc thats like such byler proof idk what else to say like,

luke going off by himself to study to become a jedi with yoda. el going off by herself to get back her powers with brenner. confronting their pasts? their first huge losses? them both cutting their training short bc they have to go save their friends so everyone doesnt die? vecna being revealed to be henry similar to how vadar was revealed to be anakin? and of course their powers. you get the point. very similar arcs. and okay maybe im looking too much into this but han and leia feel so similar to will and mike to me. or even max and lucas a bit bc han is essentially put in a coma at the end of the movie like max but mainly byler.

like maybe im crazy but does this remind anyone else of this???

also like theres the whole weird ass love triangle with leia luke and han. and like leia and luke kiss before theyre separated and at the end theyre siblings and han and leia are together and idk. i dont see mike and el as siblings personally it’s more just the idea ig that luke was a way for leia to ignore her feelings for han.

“We need you.” “We need?” “Yes.” ”What about you?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What about us?” “We’re friends. We’re friends.”

the deflecting is just like weirdly similar. it’s just too similar to me at least to not mean something. especially when the duffer brothers empathized so many times how it inspired season fours ending. i just cant unsee it. el is so obviously luke to me and han and leias storyline where they have to break off and do a bunch of shenanigans trying to escape the empire and also help the resistance on their own is kind of like the cali crew trying to escape the government and help el and their friends back in hawkins. and will and mike are the center of that storyline.

it’s too many parallels. i dont know how im supposed sit here with this information just wondering wtf the writing room was doing and not combust.

[sapphichotmess]

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