#those two are just the ones I focus on most so I like tying them in XD ]

[cold-neon-ocean]

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[amyispxnk]

Grease and sweat

Summary - Another day, another venture out of the walls of the Boston QZ with Joel Miller. AKA, another day spent fantasizing about the burly man whom you spend most of your time with these days. When the two of you have to hole up for the night, things get a little heated, and you finally snap.

A/N: i started this oneshot like 6 months ago and finally found some random motivation today to finish it. and im not gonna spoil anything but like.. why has noone talked about this in a fic before? im literally salivating when he does this during the game and like.. yeah. idk. you’ll see.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!! (oral f!receiving, unprotected PiV sex - don’t do this, especially during an apocalypse!, mentions of masturbation, lewd thoughts), language, age gap (roughly 15 years), firearms, pet names, fluff, aftercare

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“The fuck’re you lookin’ at, kid?” Joel practically spat, having noticed the way you were eyeing him whilst he worked.

You scoffed, walking up to the workbench he was currently using. Kid. You weren’t a kid. Sure, you were almost 15 years younger than him, but you certainly weren’t a kid.

“I’m 34, Joel. Not a kid.” You argued, leaning on the wall and watching him work.

He just grunted in response before resuming what he was doing before, starting with cleaning his pistol.

His fingers danced along the metal, digging into certain bits with the old rag he used to get any grime out, before he used the screwdriver to make a few adjustments to the handgun.

You never really understood how to do all the fancy things he did with his weapons, and you probably should considering how intently you watched him whenever the pair of you came across one of these old benches - but you couldn’t focus on the guns which were in his hands. His big, strong, rough hands. You’d trade places with those guns just to feel his hands on you like that. He took so much care of the damn things too, like they were the most precious things in his life. Always cleaning and repairing them like this, practically never letting you touch them.. What did those guns have that you didn’t? You thought to yourself as you watched him, gaze drifting to his fingers in particular. The ones you’d dreamt about far too many times, the ones you’d imagined inside of yourself rather than your own when you touched yourself. It was the way they moved, how thick they were, and how the veins in his hands and muscles flexed when he gripped his bow, and the way his arms would shine with his sweat as he worked. You’d lick the sweat off his body if he asked you to. Depraved as it sounds.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

Your absolutely maddening desire for and sickening crush on the man whom you knew close to nothing about. Just his name and a few things he revealed to you when the night was particularly long or the whisky he was having took a toll on his judgement, loosening him up for once. You knew where he was from, what his job was before, and you knew that he was basically just a grumpy old asshole who was only good for beating up guys when you went on supply runs.

He had never been overly kind to you, not that you needed it, had never asked you any questions, didn’t make small talk, and was a ruthless murderer.

You loved every single thing about him.

And you wanted to show him. You wanted him to love you back, no matter how he’d love you. You wouldn’t mind if he was a cold lover, a mean one - hell, he almost definitely was - you’d take him any way you could get him.

You looked back at his hands once more, subconsciously pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he had to use his ring and middle fingers to clean out part of another gun, your thighs clenching together as you felt the all-too-familiar wetness start to form between them and making you groan when you realised you’d probably have to rub one out when you got back later. It was honestly annoying the amount of times you came by your own hand, his name on your lips, because you knew how much better it would feel if it was his thick fingers pushing into you, his big hands palming your breasts, his strong arms holding you down as he made you come over and over…

“Let’s get goin’.” He says suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts as he tucks his gun away and slings his backpack on.

You push yourself off of the wall and follow him quickly, trying not to look flustered although you very much felt it.

He came to an abrupt stop when you reached your normal exit from this little pitstop en route to the guys who gave you weapons, and you almost walked face-first into his back.

“Joel? Wha-” you began, but he cut you off.

“This shouldn’t be closed.” He murmurs, like he’s talking to himself, not allowing you any time to respond before he’s going over to pull the chain which should open the garage door.

It doesn’t.

No matter how much he pulls on the metal, grunting and groaning and making your eyes flutter shut whilst you force your needy whimpers down with the noises he’s making, it barely opens, slamming shut every time he gets close to getting it open a quarter of the way.

“Fuck.” He grits, giving up and slamming his hand against the thing. It would be no use trying with that door anymore, the noise it was making was getting too loud anyway.

He stands there, clearly thinking hard about what to do. You can’t turn back because that would just lead you straight back to the QZ, which was useless to you right now, but you don’t have any other secured ways to get to your vendors - how could he have been so stupid to not plan ahead, he ridicules himself silently.

“Joel? What’s the plan?” You ask, getting slightly impatient with his constant silence. He may have been this hot brooding older man, but he could really leave you in the dark sometimes like this.

“Will you let me think, goddamnit?” He responds, clearly annoyed with your current predicament, scratching at his jaw before looking back up at you.

“Could try that window.” You suggest quietly, looking upwards. It was high and small, but you’d be able to get through it if he gave you a boost up.

He gave you a small nod before you both made your way up there and he got into position, hands outstretched and placed together as you got on and pushed yourself up. Normally, whenever he did this, you’d feel all dizzy afterwards from the proximity and his touch - but as soon as you looked out the window you were horrified. There were infected, just past the jammed door - and a whole lot of them. You weren’t getting past that. Forget the deal, you’d come back another day.

“Joel.” You say, not even realising you were whispering. He doesn’t answer.

“Joel! Joel, get me down.” You whisper-shout, and he furrows his brows.

“Why? What’s the matter?” He asks, and you have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes.

“Just get me down.” You say through clenched teeth, taking another look outside the window before he carefully lowers you. Of course, he boosts you up regularly, but he rarely ever tries to get you back down, so you stumble a bit and end up with your face against his chest as he falls back onto the wall slightly.

“Jesus, woman!” He grunts, but you don’t even try to move, you just look up at him with those fucking doe eyes of yours and it takes everything in him to not groan at the sight of you. God knows how many times he’s imagined you looking up at him whilst you sucked his cock, knelt on the floor with tears in your eyes and your hair all messy for him with your big eyes staring into his.

You open your mouth to speak, before realising the position you’re in and quickly standing up.

“I- there were infected outside, Joel.” You explain after a moment.

“So?” He questions you, squinting in confusion slightly. You’ve taken down infected before, no problem. What’s the issue today?

“No, like- I swear it looked like there were a hundred of them. Just this big fucking horde, right outside the garage door.” You gestured back towards the exit.

He clenched his jaw. Yeah, okay, you could take down some infected, not a hundred.

“Y’sure?”

“I’m fucking sure, Joel!” You almost yelled, way too many emotions going on in your body for you to act normal right now.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He looked back outside. It was almost dark, there was no way you could get back to Boston in time now. It just wasn’t safe to go that far so late, and there was no point since you’d have to sneak by all the guards - who hopefully wouldn’t notice if you were gone for one night - to get back in.

“Go check all the doors, lock ‘em and then barricade ‘em. We’re gonna have to hold up here for tonight, then go back at dawn.” He decides, and you gape at him like a fish.

“We’re staying here?! Joel, what about curfew and the- the fucking infected right outside-” you start, but he silences you once again.

“We’re gonna be fine. When have things ever gone wrong for us since you started comin’ out with me?” He questions sternly, and you ponder it.

Never, really. He always saved you, and you’d save him when he needed it - even though it was only a handful of times he did.

“‘Kay, fine. Whatever.” You mumble stubbornly before turning round to go secure the doors leading to the small mechanic store you’d be staying in.

He looks around himself for any openings and closes them up before you both end up back in the main room.

It’s mostly silent as you look around at different things, poking at the ruined cars and whatnot whilst he sits on a crate and watches you as discreetly as possible.

“I have a question.” You say, turning to face him and making him snap his head away from you before you notice he was looking at you already.

He grunts to tell you to continue speaking, looking back at you when you do.

“Could you like.. show me how to fix up my guns and stuff? ‘Cause you always do it for me and I just thought it was.. Cool.” you murmur, trailing off at the end.

He actually lets out a small laugh at that. Not in a mean way, necessarily, just kind of teasingly.

“Cool?” He repeats with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, cool. It just- with all the attachments and shit. And I can never clean them properly.” You sigh, walking up closer to him. “Please? We’ve got nothing else to do.”

The sound of you saying please for him in that small voice wins him over. “Fine.” He gets up off the crate, walking back over to the workbench and flicking the light on before taking your gun from you. He talks you through it, shows you a little how to clean it before letting you try it yourself, and then he shows you how to add a scope to it. You can’t quite grasp it though, not being strong and precise enough to attach it properly, so he places his hands on top of yours and helps you screw it on.

The contact makes you shudder so violently that he definitely felt it, and you want to crumple into the ground.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, and you almost jump at how close he is now, voice loud and breath hot on the side of your face as he leans over your shoulder to look at the gun whilst he tries to help you.

“No-nothing.” You squeak, breathing at least ten times faster now.

He feels it. He knows. He has to know, you’d been so stupid and revealed it all now. Joel Miller was not an idiot and he knew how you felt and he’d hate you for it. Your thoughts spiralled.

“Nothin’, huh?” He taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches you slowly crumble. To make it worse, he turns you in his hold, so you’re pinned with your back to the desk and his hands on either side of you.

“Y’alright, darlin’? You look awfully hot. Don’t got a fever or nothin’?” He mumbles, seeing how far he can push you as he leans in closer.

“I-I’m fine.” You say quietly, mesmerised by the sight of his face so close as you notice little details you’d never noticed before, barely even realising his lips are so close to your own until he’s pressing them to yours.

You make a slight noise of surprise before you get lost in it. The feeling of his lips against yours was something you’d dreamed about for so long, and now it was finally happening.

Your hands come up and around his neck, pulling him closer towards you as he deepens the kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and overpowering you immediately as he pushes you back onto the workbench, sitting you on top of it and already working open the buttons of your jeans.

He kisses you one more time before getting to his knees and pulling your pants completely off, eyeing your panties, a dark patch in the middle of them from your growing arousal.

“Joel, please.” You whimper from above him as his hands run up your legs, coming to your inner thighs before toying with the elastic of your panties.

“Y’need me here, darlin’?” He asks, smirking up at you as his fingers move to rub slow circles into your clit through the fabric.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the contact, needy and desperate for him by this point. “Yes, please- please Joel.” You’re reduced to begging already, something you figure only he had the power to make you do.

He shushes you gently, fingers slowly peeling your panties down and groaning at the sight of your bare cunt, dripping and pulsing with need.

“Fuck, baby. Such a pretty pussy, so fuckin’ wet. This all for me?” He hums, dragging a finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on it and sucking it into his mouth as he looks up at you.

You whine at the sight of him between your legs like this, not knowing how you’re going to survive when he actually makes contact with you, and nod furiously.

“Yes, oh my god. Yes, it’s all for you Joel.” You say quickly, and he seems satisfied with that answer, finally moving his face to your core and making you squirm as his hot breath fans over your pussy.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’.” He murmurs, seemingly enraptured by the sight of you, staring for a few seconds and making you want to shift away again under his intense gaze, but he has an arm on you to make sure you don’t move.

And then he finally, finally, licks a long stripe up your pussy, tongue running along your wet folds. And you fucking lose it.

“Oh my god, Joel, please. Fuck- fuck, please, more-” you start begging, moaning loudly as he picks up the pace and continues to devour you, drinking down your wetness, and eventually kissing and sucking at your clit. His fingers, those thick gorgeous fingers you’d dreamed of for so long, tease your entrance before he’s pushing those inside, making you wail at the feeling of something inside of you, getting you closer to that release you were aching for by this point.

“Fuck, yes!” You cry out, thighs shaking slightly as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s right, baby. You like that?” He asks, voice an octave lower as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight heat, tongue still working you over relentlessly.

“Please- it feels so good-” you whine in response, fingers grasping for something to hold onto, to tether yourself to earth with as you feel yourself start to float away. Finding his hair and tugging slightly which makes him groan.

“Good girl.” He praises, adding another finger. He curls his fingers, searching for your g-spot and finding it easily.

You moan weakly at the praise, hips bucking as you grind yourself against his mouth, the ridge of his nose stimulating your clit perfectly as your fingers pull at his hair, and before you know it, you’re coming with a hoarse scream of his name.

You see white as your thighs quiver around his head, tensing and squeezing slightly as he continues to work you through it, lapping at your juices until you cry out from the overstimulation.

He removes his fingers from your hole, licking them clean once more before standing up and removing his own clothes, revealing his hard cock and making your eyes widen slightly.

Of course he was big, you’d stared at the bulge of his jeans enough times to realise that, and you’d imagined it before, but it all paled in comparison to finally seeing it.

He was long, slightly curved, girthy with a flushed red tip which had precome leaking out of it as he pumped himself slowly with a smirk on his face.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?” He hums teasingly, and you can’t even think straight anymore, just pulling him forward and kissing him hungrily as he positioned his cock at your slick entrance.

Needy little whines and whimpers flowed freely from your mouth straight into his, where he swallowed them whole before starting to push into you.

You part from the kiss suddenly, gasping as he pushes deeper and deeper, stretching you thoroughly, and you feel grateful that he has the decency to start off slow since you already feel like crying from how big he is, how fucking good it feels.

When he bottoms out, you’re already wrecked. He’s huge inside of you, and you can feel everything. Every single ridge, vein, and twitch of his pulsing cock as your walls hug him tightly.

“Y’okay?” He murmurs softly, making your heart swell at how tender he sounds right now, and you nod in response.

“Joel.. please move.” You whisper, and he complies, grabbing your hips and barely giving you a moment to think before he’s starting to pound into you, making you squeal as your arms came around his neck, nails digging into his back before his head ducks down into the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your pulse point and making you clench harder around him, before moving down to your breasts, palming them and taking one of your nipples into his mouth as you scream his name.

“Joel! I’m gonna- gonna come- oh god, please!” You cry out, back arching. He growls, picking up the pace. He could feel his orgasm building, but he needed you to come first, needed to feel your tight walls clenching and gushing around him before he even considered his own pleasure.

“Come on, baby. Give me one more and I’ll fill you up. Fuck this little cunt full of me.. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He says, voice low and husky as his balls slap against your ass, the loud sound of your wetness filling the room as you start to tremble once more.

“Yes! Fuck, Joel. Need it so bad. Want your come inside of me. Please, Joel.” You gasp, making him groan as his fingers move down to rub at your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, speeding up even more and hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, making you scream as you come and dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess whilst he continues to thrust into you.

“That’s it, darlin’. Come all over my cock.” He grunts, his own release approaching quickly. The sounds of your moans and cries are enough to set him off, barely thrusting a few more times before stilling and filling you with his hot seed, slowly fucking it even deeper inside of you before pulling out and looking at you.

Skin flushed, panting heavily, come leaking down your thighs. You looked perfect. He wished that cameras were still around so he could take a picture of how you looked right now, keep it in his pocket wherever he went. But he couldn’t, and he realised you probably needed cleaning up now as your hazy eyes blinked open and looked at him. You were quiet, thinking about what this meant for the two of you now. Would he go back to being the cold man you knew? Would he be even colder? Would he suddenly be attentive and caring towards you?

You supposed you got your answer when he gently cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he looked at you with something scarily close to love in his eyes, the gaze he’d somehow managed to conceal from you all these months which he could now finally show you.

“You okay?” He murmurs, and you nod weakly in response. He hums, giving you another small kiss before walking off to go get a rag to clean you up with.

“Hold on, let me just..” he mumbles to himself as he goes to try clean off any dust from the rag, before returning to between your thighs and cleaning away any evidence of your previous activities, tossing the rag somewhere and handing you your clothes. You get dressed quietly before he takes your hand and leads you over to a space on the floor where you set up your sleeping bags, putting them as close together as possible until he eventually just lets you tuck yourself into his, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and falling asleep.

You listen to his soft snores, feel his calloused hands on your stomach where they snaked under your shirt before he fell asleep, and smile to yourself softly before falling asleep with him.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated and my requests are open 💞

[asunflowerana]

brownie bonding — Nanami Kento

summary: kento makes most of his quality time with his baby daughter.

warnings: pure fluff, dad!nanami, cooking.

wc: 800.

A warming melody of jazz echoes on the portable radio in the kitchen, filling the bonding moment perfectly. Nanami is just finishishing tying a cook’s apron around his waist, feeling a bit awkward to wear such a flowery print, but it was a request from his baby daughter. There’s no way he would refuse her. 

“You look pretty, daddy!” His sunshine compliments him, sitting in the high chair at the counter with her head covered by her tiny cook’s hat. She isn’t a kid that plays around: if she’s going to cook, she’ll wear the proper clothes for it.

Six years old, acting that way already. Imagine when she’s sixteen.

He can’t help but send her a fondly smile. One of the good things about having a kid is that you will always receive an honest answer from them. His little girl it’s saying he looks pretty, so maybe flower prints actually suit him. 

He moves his focus to the counter, checking the ingredients on display: sugar, butter, wheat flour, powdered chocolate, milk, eggs, chocolate chips. The mixer is set, the oven is heating up, and they have everything they need to start the day’s recipe:

Brownies

You’re on your way home from a business trip today, and they both came up with the idea of ​​surprising you with some brownies. In addition to welcoming you home with a delicious gift, Kento also takes this opportunity to spend more quality time with his daughter. She’s growing up so fast that he’s been feeling guilty for missing some moments of her life because of work. He wants to make sure that as long as he has time, he’ll make the most of it alongside her.

“Alright sweetheart, what’s the first step?” He claps his hands, giving her the task of leading and guiding them through the recipe. She bows to read the children’s cookbook she got for her birthday last year, and points her little index to the first illustrated step.

“We need to mix eggs with sugar.” She says, cautiously taking the mixer’s bowl and placing it in front of them. “Can I put them in, daddy?”

“You can, but you need to be careful with the eggs. Break this way.” He demonstrates to her, tapping the tip of the fork against the eggshell until it breaks a small part. He then opens it halfway, and pours the yolk and whites into the bowl. “Your turn now.”

Eri picks up another egg, and tries to imitate exactly what her father did, but ends up hitting the shell too hard, causing the egg to break right on the table and smear the wood with white and yolk. The dirt definitely doesn’t please her father, but he isn’t going to make a big deal of it. These things happen, even to adults, and he doesn’t want to make his daughter feel guilty about something like that. So when she looks at him with those fearful little eyes waiting for a scold, he starts to chuckle at the situation, making her visibly relax as the moment passes by.

They continue with the recipe, now with Nanami directly helping her put the ingredients into the bowl, and his heart warmed to see his daughter having fun cooking, her mini apron’s all dirty from chocolate. “Now we have to add the flour.” He takes the bag from the counter, and gives it to her. “Think you can do it, sweeheart?”

She nods eagerly, and starts pouring flour into the meter. A small amount of flour escapes, but she manages most part of the process, placing the measured flour into the bowl. “I did it!” She announces as soon as she’s done, a huge one missing tooth grin on her face.

Nanami smiles at his daughter’s delight, caressing the top of her head. “Yes sweetheart, you did it.” He presses the ‘on’ button on the mixer, and it starts to churn all the mixture into the bowl. The two watch together the mixture incorporate and become a smooth brown dough, which soon after was put on a platter to bake in the oven.

Since the brownie would take about forty minutes to bake, Nanami thought it would be a good time to give his sunshine a bath and get her ready before the sweet is done.

But his daughter has other plans in mind.

“Daddy, you have flour on your face.” She points in the direction, making him run his hand over his whole cheek. “No, missed.”

“Where’s it?” he asked, leaning his face close to let her clean it for him.

She puts one of her flour-covered hands to his nose, laughing when she sees the art she’s made on her father’s skin. “There.”

His first reaction is deadpan, not believing he fell for a six-year-old child’s trick. But he’s definitely not a quitter: as soon as she gets occupied laughing at his face, he places his hands on her sides and holds her, giving her a mischievous smile. “So this is how you want to play, huh? Very well, young lady… You shall be defeated.” He starts tickling her body, making her squirm and laugh even more. He releases her eventually, and the two soon start a big flour fight around the room, running and throwing flour everywhere.

Not only they’ll give you a brownie tray, but also a pretty messy kitchen to deal with afterwards. But you can’t deny that it’s worth the price. 

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[juustokaku]

Dear Daisy - Jongho x f!reader

Summary: Feelings for Jongho weren’t the only thing you developed. Falling in love meant falling ill in this case. 

Genre: fluff, angst 

Pairings: Jongho x f!reader, slight Wooyoung x f!reader 

T/W: blood, choking (not strangling), reader has the hanahaki disease, mean Jongho :( 

A/N: This was an attempt of the fic I promised when I reached 100 followers... two months ago... I was asked for fluff, but this is what the fic turned out to be. It’s quite long, so I’m not sure if anyone has the will and energy to read this, but to everyone who does and enjoys it: big thank you! 

Word count: 9 904 

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It was no secret that your garden was the most admired yard in the whole village. All around the year, it was a sight for sore eyes even in winter. 

The stream where spring water flowed joyfully was frozen. The ice was too weak for walking, but its beauty made up for it. Sometimes, you did have to play a lifeguard and save children from the icy stream which was luckily not too deep. A cup of hot chocolate, fresh clothes and a blanket usually made them feel a little happier before their parents could come pick them up from your house. 

You also set tallow balls and other kinds of bird food in your garden, helping the birds survive through the cold season. The yard and the roof of your cottage were covered in thick layers of snow. Despite your home being beautiful during winter too, you loved spring. 

It was the best time of the year for your gardening hobby to bloom again. The flowers you grew were famous in the village and even people from the nearby villages and towns traveled to buy your plants. 

Maybe that’s why the mysterious man had started appearing in your garden when the weather got warmer. After his every secret visit, a bunch of the flowers you had grown from the scratch and cared for had disappeared. You were no genius but you realized soon he had been stealing your flowers. It upset you not only because the beauty of your garden suffered but because selling plants was a part of your income to be able to keep living in the little cottage. 

You had to gain courage to confront the man about it; he couldn’t keep robbing the results of your hard work. But whenever you stared at him from your window, an involuntary smile tugged the corners of your lips upwards. 

He looked focused on picking the best flowers, his brows furrowed. It was almost like stealing was his job, and he took it very seriously despite being awful at staying hidden. 

His habit of coming there would have been infuriating, but you couldn’t be that mad at him when he started tying the flowers together into bouquets. They started as clumsy and frankly quite ugly. 

By the 5th time he was rummaging through your garden, you had to do something. Not just because of the thievery but because he intrigued you. His actions were baffling, and you had never seen him before in the village. He couldn’t be from farther away; it would be stupid to travel from another town many times a week for flower bouquets. 

You slipped your shoes on and tiptoed to the garden, the soft, fresh-green grass silencing your steps. It was crucial to catch the man off guard, so he wouldn’t have enough time to run away. You felt like you had to talk to him, to know his reasons for sneaking and stealing. 

The man was crouched in front of your dear tulips, plucking them up from the soil. It hurt to watch but you couldn’t focus on that in that moment. 

You crept behind him, not too close. One deep breath in to prepare yourself and you spoke. 

“You could just buy those flowers like a normal person.” 

Against your expectations, the man in front of you didn’t seemingly get even startled. His head turned around slowly to look at you. 

Only then you noticed how handsome he was. His round cheeks looked squishable and black hair soft and smooth to touch. However, he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated squishes and pats on the head; he was clearly pissed. 

It was almost ridiculous how he looked like the angry one despite not being the victim of the theft happening right then. 

“It’s just a couple of them. You have hundreds of flowers, so why does it matter if I take a few for myself?” the man frowned. 

“Those few flowers are a few potential dollars stolen from my wallet,” you crossed your arms. 

As the man stood up from the ground, his stance intimidated you a little. He was still holding the red tulips. Even the color of the flowers was warning you about the man, but you couldn’t back down. 

“You’ll manage fine without a little extra money. I know your business is booming.” 

The man was thinking so selfishly and it really started to irk you. 

“This is the 5th time you’re here. You’ve stolen a bunch of flowers each time, so it makes at least 30 dollars.” 

“Then what do you want me to do? I don’t have money to pay for bouquets twice a week,” the man huffed. 

It was weird. Why would a grown man resort to stealing just because he wanted a bouquet he couldn’t even pay for? Sure, your flowers were lovely but they couldn’t be that enticing. 

“You could take wildflowers from the fields. They don’t cost you anything.” 

“No. I want yours.” 

“Then start paying for them.” 

“I told you already I don’t have money,” the man brushed his hand through his hair in frustration. 

Something about the situation was different, and you couldn’t shake off the sensation that the man wasn’t stealing just for fun; he actually needed the flowers. But you needed the money. Having no heart to kick him out of your garden and scream at him to never come back again, you made a suggestion. 

“Let’s compromise. You start working in my garden with me, and I’ll give you flowers for free.” 

Surprise flickered in his eyes but he didn’t let it show too long. Of course, his stoic image was more important than acting genuine. 

Maybe the man had a sense of justice and guilt after all, since he agreed, “Fine. I’ll come here tomorrow.” 

You smiled in satisfaction. Once again, another difficult situation handled with grace. It was concerning though, seeing how he had ripped the tulips from the soil with such force. How good would he be at gardening with his fierce grip? That would be left for you to see the next day. 

The next morning you woke up early, excited and nervous to see the man whose name you learned to be Choi Jongho. You should have been angry with him for stealing from you and even acting rude and self-righteous; but you were just too curious to get to know him to think sanely. 

Jongho was supposed to arrive in a few hours, so you had plenty of time to prepare a little surprise for him. After all, it was best to make a good first impression on new acquaintances – maybe you’d make a friend out of him as well. 

You pushed the oven tray in, and it took about 20 minutes for the scent of homemade bread fill the small kitchen. Some margarine, ham, and organic cheese would complement the bread well, and hopefully Jongho would like it. 

After setting the table and making delicious breakfast, you sat down on the porch and waited patiently. It was going to be a hot day, and you had been well prepared for it. Hats were essential for sunny days in the garden. 

Still, there Jongho came, marching to your house with his head covered only in hair – his hair color wasn’t of any help either in protecting him from the Sun. You were positive you had told him to dress accordingly to the weather, but after knowing him for a day you had a feeling that the man was as stubborn as a mule. 

“I see you forgot to wear a hat,” you chuckled. 

Jongho who had just arrived on the porch huffed, “I don’t need one.” 

You took a look at the rest of his outfit which was fortunately appropriate for the weather. His clothes seemed to be of somewhat thin material yet covered his legs and arms from the Sun. 

“Yes, you do. Come inside, I’ll give you a hat and some breakfast.” 

You got up from your rattan chair and gestured for Jongho to follow you only for him to shake his head. 

“I’m here to work, not to have a tea party with you.” 

It was no lie that you felt hurt by his words, brief pain deep inside your chest. Having had woken up a couple hours earlier to bake him bread had been futile, since Jongho rejected your offer with no regrets. 

“Have it your way,” you mumbled and led him to the garden. 

Jongho was just as hopeless at gardening as you feared he would be. He couldn’t have had an easier task – watering flowers – but he managed to mess it up by watering the flower itself, not the soil it grew on. 

Giving the lawn mower to him would have been too risky, since he could have driven it over your toes accidentally or on purpose, so his next task was to pull the weeds. At least his strength came in good use when he ripped the weeds and their roots from the ground forcefully. 

But it was impossible not to notice how he had started feeling ill. Despite his attempts at pretending to be a tough guy, he wobbled around dizzily and had to take short, unexpected breaks. It was obvious the lack of a hat combined with the burning sun had caused his body to overheat. 

“Jongho, do you want to come inside and have water?” you crouched down onto his level as he was sitting on the grass, holding his head and obviously feeling sick. 

“No. I need to work.” 

That damn man was like a stubborn child. 

“You can have the flowers even if you don’t work as much. I would just rather not have you faint here in my garden.” 

“Fine...” 

Pleasantly surprised by his acceptance, you walked inside your cottage with Jongho who had insisted he wouldn’t need your help to get up. 

The moment he felt the cool temperature the air conditioner provided in the house, he relaxed visibly and sighed. He was holding his hand still on his forehead, probably suffering from headache, testing his temperature or both. 

Jongho sat down on your couch at your gesture, and you brought him a big glass of water. Some of the water splashed on his lap as he took it from you with shaky hands, but it didn’t seemingly bother him. 

You watched as he emptied the glass down his throat. Jongho was probably the type to say a glass was half empty when you thought it was half full. He hadn’t even thanked you for the water. 

The two of you stayed silent for a moment before he presented a question with a light rasp in his voice. 

“Is the breakfast offer still good?” 

You thought back to the bread that had been left on the dining table, waiting impatiently for Jongho and you to enjoy it. You almost wanted to refuse his request and eat the bread slowly bite by bite in front of him just out of spite. But seeing his unwell expression tugged at your tender heartstrings. 

Soon, Jongho was munching on a slice of the bread, avoiding eye contact. His cheeks puffed out cutely while he had his mouth full of food, but you would never tell him how adorable he looked. 

“Which store did you buy this bread from? It’s pretty tasty.” 

You smiled triumphantly, your chest swelling with pride at Jongho’s indirect compliment, “I baked it myself.” 

Finally, Jongho turned his brown eyes on you. The color reminded you of soil in all the best ways. Though he definitely wouldn’t have appreciated that compliment. 

“You baked it yourself? I guess you’re a beginner still.” 

You frowned, “If you can’t appreciate my hospitability, you can go home. And no, I’m not a beginner. I’ve cooked and baked quite a lot.” 

The tension was thick as silence fell between you two once again, but you almost wanted to laugh at the awkwardness of the whole situation. Almost. 

Surprisingly, Jongho’s indifferent expression turned embarrassed, and he muttered an apology, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just on a bad mood because of the heat.” 

It was the first time you saw him acting vulnerable – if you could even call apologizing that. Still, it made you giddy to see that he let go of his pride for a small moment. 

“I understand,” you said, voice soft, “You can lie on the couch until you feel better again.” 

“Thanks,” Jongho nodded and lied down carefully, grunting because of the headache. 

Quite soon, he was asleep, in the most vulnerable state a human could be. You knew it was because he was feeling ill, but you liked to think he trusted you – which was most likely completely delusional. 

You brought a wet rag on his forehead in hopes of it helping to bring his body temperature down. Jongho flinched a little in his sleep at the feeling but made no sign of waking up. 

After a half an hour his eyes opened, looking around for a second as if to wonder how he ended up on the couch of a woman he barely knew. That woman had cared for him, but he still threw the rag on the floor ungratefully. 

“Wow. How nice of you,” you huffed. 

“You could have told me you’d bring some old, dirty rag on my forehead,” Jongho wasted no time in answering. 

“It’s dirty only because it was on your body.” 

“Explain what you mean by that,” a raised brow from Jongho told that you had irritated him, but you were not going to back down. 

“You’re much nicer when you’re asleep,” you sighed and grabbed the rag from the floor. 

Jongho was back to his grumpy self now that he was awake and feeling better. Secretly you almost hoped he would feel ill most of the time so that he’d treat you with respect. 

“Give me the flowers, and I’ll leave.” 

The two of you went back to the garden which was much cooler now that afternoon had turned into evening. You admired the hues of violet, red, and yellow the sunset had painted the sky with. 

“I want those,” Jongho pointed at a flowerbed of light pink peonies. 

You immediately had to reject his request which was honestly more like a demand. 

“You can’t have those.” 

“Why not?” he frowned. 

It would have been nice of you to open up, to tell the reason why those flowers were important for you. But had Jongho been nice to you? No. You did not owe him an explanation. 

“Take anything else in the garden. I don’t sell or give those peonies.” 

As you watched Jongho walk into the distance with a few daffodils, an exhausted sigh left your lips. He was a lot to handle for sure. 

The next days weren’t easy either, full of bickering and Jongho messing something up in your garden. More than once, while plucking bad, dried leaves of the plants he ripped the whole flower from the soil. Every time he was picking cherry tomatoes, he dropped them on the ground and “accidentally”, as he claimed, stepped on them.  

You gave him simple tasks but he managed to cause more harm than good. His incredible strength would have been useful with carrying rocks and other heavy things, but you feared he’d drop them somewhere it would cause great damage. 

But you couldn’t help but admire Jongho’s work ethic, the way he seemed to do his best to earn the flowers. It was hard to be mad at him when he looked so disappointed in himself whenever he ruined something. 

Nevertheless, there was no reason to have him work for you when it just meant more work for you with fixing his mistakes. You also felt like he didn’t enjoy spending time around you at all; the time had come to fire him. 

“Jongho. I’ve been thinking of something,” you said softly, interrupting Jongho’s work. 

He glanced at you, “Uh-huh?” 

You inhaled and exhaled, ready to tell him the harsh reality, “I can’t have you working for me anymore.” 

Jongho looked as devastated as the flowers that had wilted due to him overwatering them in the span of many days. 

“I... I understand. I haven’t been much help here,” he sighed, “And I’m not very good company.” 

You couldn’t deny the truth of neither statements so you just nodded. 

“That’s right. You’ll have flowers as a thanks from today’s work, but from now on you have to get your flowers from somewhere else. Preferably not by stealing from someone else’s garden.” 

Jongho let out a sad chuckle. It was a relief that he understood your reasoning and didn’t fight you back on this. 

You felt pity for him and guilt, but sometimes one had to think of their own good. There was no mind in letting him ruin both your garden as well as your day. 

After you had fired him a couple days ago, you felt unpleasant emotions you hadn’t expected to experience. Despite all the bickering and tension between you, a feeling of loneliness bothered you. 

You had friends, it wasn’t a lack of friends that gnawed at you, but you were often alone in your garden. It was a fresh change from the usual routine to have someone work in there with you. Although Jongho and you hadn’t gotten along very well, you missed him – probably just because you needed some company in general. 

A basket in your hand, you strolled around the village’s market. Although it was quite busy in there, you didn’t get a sense of claustrophobia. The townspeople had respect for other people’s personal space – that didn’t mean they had respect for other people’s personal business though. Even the younger ones in the village had received the gracious gift of gossiping from the elders. 

Then, a conversation of two women caught your attention. 

“Have you seen that new man in the town?” an old lady with a hideous hat whispered louder than probably intended. 

“Sadly, I haven’t.” a slightly younger woman shook her head. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised. He has been spending time at home awfully lot. Seldom steps out of his property, absolutely never greets me when I wave at him from my yard.” 

You had to hold back a chuckle at the hat-lady's huffy tone. 

“Is he handsome?” the younger woman asked. 

“Dear God, very much so. But although you’re younger than me, it doesn’t mean he’s in your age range. I’d say he hasn’t reached even 30 years yet.” 

“I think I’ll try my luck nonetheless.” 

“Oh, Agatha. Have some decency,” the hat-lady scolded the other woman playfully. 

You were not one to gossip around with the other villagers, but that didn’t mean you were left completely in the dark. Based on the ladies’ words, it was undeniable that the man was Jongho. Honestly, it made you feel a little proud that he, who apparently rarely left home, had gone out of his way just to steal flowers from you. 

You looked around the stalls selling objects ranging from vegetables to vehicles like bicycles. Nothing extraordinary seemed to demand your attention, until a certain man appeared in front of you. 

“Hello, Wooyoung,” you smiled. 

“Well, hello there. You’re looking as dazzling as ever,” Wooyoung glanced at your looks; the way your long dress, once approved by the elders, had stains in the hem. Most of your dresses looked like that, given that you spent your days crouching on the ground and hands deep in the soil.  

“I will throw one of these eggs at you if you don’t stop with your sarcastic compliments,” you grabbed a freshly-bought egg from your basket to threaten Wooyoung. 

He didn’t seem to worry for his life and just smiled in amusement, “It wasn’t wholly sarcastic. Despite using those old, filthy rags as clothes, you’re as cute as a button.” 

“You really know how to compliment a woman,” you rolled your eyes but couldn’t resist a small smile. 

Wooyoung was the type to gossip around every time a new juicy piece of information was uncovered. You two were friends, and he was the reason you were able to keep up with the current rumors. He would have surely had something new and interesting to tell you again, and you were waiting impatiently to hear it. 

“I’ve seen the new man head for your cottage more than once... What’s up?” 

Jongho was definitely the talk of the town even though he had moved there a month ago already. You didn’t care if people were interested in him, but now that you had been dragged into the situation, you had to protect your privacy before the snooping villagers would start to spy on you. 

“He just bought some flowers,” you said. 

“With his body?” Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows, and you had to refrain from smashing one of the eggs into his head. 

“Not exactly. He helped me around in the garden. You could be of help sometime too.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

“A warm hug from a friend.” 

Wooyoung groaned in annoyance, “Not even a little kiss for your good ol’ pal Wooyoung?” 

After rejecting his attempts at charming you, which had almost become a routine, you made your way home. The basket in your hand was quite heavy, full of food ingredients for the next few days. Fortunately, it didn’t take you long to see the gate to your garden. 

What you didn’t expect was seeing Jongho standing on your porch, holding flowers in his hand. Had he been stealing from you again? 

You tried your best not to look angry, but the way you stomped to Jongho was a clear sign you did not appreciate him stealing your flowers. 

Your frustrated gaze didn’t scare him, not one bit. Although you were glaring daggers at him, he stood there proudly with the flowers. 

“Jongho. Why have you been stealing from my garden again?” 

The said man pushed the flower bouquet for you to take it. 

“They are not from your garden. They are wildflowers.” 

As you took a closer look at the flowers, you noticed that they were from the fields and ditches indeed, since you didn’t have those plants in your garden. It was fair game to pick them up. To be exact, it was a bouquet of classic white daisies. Although the flowers weren’t exceptionally beautiful, Jongho’s actions were. 

“Why did you bring this to me?” you asked as you received the bouquet. 

“I want to continue working here,” Jongho stated, “And it’s an apology as well for that one time I destroyed the roses.” 

You grimaced as you recalled the moment of him losing control of the lawn mower and driving it over your dear roses. 

“Apology accepted... I think.” 

A couple daisies would not replace the roses, but you appreciated Jongho’s kind gesture. 

“So, I’ll be here tomorrow morning,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Hold your horses. I didn’t say you could work here again.” 

At your words, Jongho’s often so indifferent eyes turned disappointed and he genuinely looked upset. You didn’t enjoy seeing him that way but what could you do? Let him step on a wandering hedgehog on your yard? Or slaughter the fishes in your pond by pouring chlorine in there? 

Maybe you could give him an easier task. But was it possible when he didn’t even know how to water the flowers? 

“Fine. I’ll hire you. But you’ll do everything under my surveillance, until I deem your skills decent enough.” 

And to your surprise, Jongho gave you a small, relieved smile. The corners of his lips barely rose but it was more than enough to make your heart flutter. Hopefully you had finally managed to warm his icy core. 

“Thanks. I’ll try my best not to let you down again.” 

During the next week Jongho came to your garden almost every day, ready to work hard to actually earn the flowers. Even stealing them had felt better than getting them from you out of pity. 

You had set the flowers you received from him into a vase near the window. To Jongho it may have felt like they were observing him, reminding that he had better do great job now. 

“Good. Now water them near the soil instead of the flower part,” you taught Jongho how to water plants without absolutely obliterating them. 

He started pouring water like a tsunami had hit, the water coming out of the can with great pressure onto the poor flower. 

“No!” you exclaimed. 

Without thinking anything else than saving your plants, you took hold of the can to stop the downpour, your hands on top of Jongho’s. 

Although you hadn’t paid attention to it in the moment, you noticed only when he looked at you weirdly. 

“Sorry,” you muttered and instantly snatched your hands away, losing contact to Jongho’s warm ones. 

For a moment, he looked almost offended, like you had insulted him by touching him. He acted like he didn’t have dirty hands too. 

Then, a soft and amused chuckle slipped past his lips. It was like music to your ears; you couldn’t hear any malice or mockery in his voice. 

Neither of you addressed the situation as the two of you just continued watering the flowers. Despite your desperate attempts at acting like nothing had happened, the atmosphere had changed – not to worse surprisingly. 

And without noticing, you had gradually taken a liking to Jongho. Maybe even more than was good for you. He wasn’t the type you usually fell for; he was grumpy, borderline rude, and had stolen your flowers. But you could notice his stoic facade cracking from time to time, glimpses of goodness and lovability shining through. 

Whenever he messed up, he looked sincerely apologetic, beating himself up for destroying something up in your garden once again. Maybe it was because he feared he’d get fired again, or maybe he actually cared about doing good work. 

You also couldn’t help but admire the way he got more skillful with time. With some tasks he didn’t even need your guidance anymore. There was no way you’d trust him with the lawn mower yet after the rose disaster, but you felt proud, looking at Jongho get satisfied from finally succeeding in a task – no matter how simple it was. 

His occasional smiles and jokes made your chest ache. Someone would have told you it was just the feeling of being in love, but your doctor had something else to tell you. You hadn’t just developed feelings for Jongho; you had developed a disease as well. 

The chest pains and coughing that had begun to occur more often hadn’t concerned you. Only when light pink flower petals started coming out when you coughed, you contacted a doctor. 

“What is ‘hanahaki disease’?” you had asked, confused by the doctor’s diagnosis. 

The doctor had clasped her hands together, looking at you with a sympathetic, sad smile. 

“Your symptoms of chest pain and coughing up flower petals are part of it. The disease develops from unrequited, one-sided love and takes place in your lungs, growing as flowers,” she had explained, “Unfortunately, in your case it has spread to your heart as well.” 

“Will I... die?” 

“Possibly. Your only chances to live are if the person of your affections confesses that they feel the same way. It’s possible to also have a surgery but that will result in losing your feelings for them and even memories of them. However, if the disease progresses into its final stage or the one you love rejects you, you will choke on the flowers and blood.” 

“How is this disease even possible?” 

Sitting in a car, you gazed outside. Wooyoung had come to pick you up from the hospital, which was in a town nearby, still too far to walk to. You wondered why couldn’t you love Wooyoung, the man who cared for you already, who had spent almost a third of his life trying to win your affections. 

Still, you couldn’t erase your feelings for Jongho. A part of you didn’t even want to, although it would cost you your life. Just to love him for a short time with your whole heart until it stopped beating sounded better than living for long in loneliness, missing out on what could have been. To love and never be loved back is painful both mentally and physically even for people who aren’t sick, but for some people it’s harder to never be able to know what love is. What it feels like to receive a smile from your love, no matter how slight it is. What it’s like to exchange a few words even if they were just greetings, passing by. 

What it’s like to cry and scream into a pillow for hours, be the reason big or small. 

What it’s like to do anything to make them happy. 

What it feels like to die for them. 

You had it all now, the love you had craved for so long, thinking you were just unable to love. There was no way you would get the surgery if it meant losing everything you had experienced with and towards Jongho. 

It was foolish really, the two of you didn’t even know each other that well yet. Most likely, almost definitely, he wouldn’t even reciprocate your feelings, and that’d be the end. 

You were deep in your thoughts when suddenly Wooyoung’s voice brought you back to Earth. 

“What did the doctor say?” He glanced at you quickly, focused on driving. Although he rarely showed his gentler side, the quick glance was enough to tell he was worried for you. 

“She diagnosed me with hanahaki disease.” 

Wooyoung fell silent for a few seconds. You expected for him to ask next what the disease was, but he managed to surprise you. 

“Is it because of Jongho?..” 

Only thing you could do is nod and let out a heavy sigh. The trees passed by as Wooyoung kept driving in the mostly empty road, getting closer to the village already. 

“Have you considered the surgery?” he asked quietly. 

This time you shook your head and answered, “I don’t want to. Now that I’ve finally fallen in love, I want to experience it without running away from it like I usually do, being the coward I am.” 

Wooyoung gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, getting agitated by his worry for you. Clearly, he didn’t like the idea of losing you because Jongho didn’t possibly love you back. 

“It’s not cowardice. You can’t give up on your life because of Jongho.” 

“The surgery costs anyways. I don’t have enough money for that.” 

The next day, you had invited Jongho to meet you at the market. It was risky since you had no idea how he’d react to your suggestion you’d make when meeting him. 

You spotted him standing in front of a flower shop, looking through the window in concentration. Lots of beautiful flowers had been set there to attract customers. 

Quickly, you skittered over to him and smiled when he turned his head towards you. In response, you only got a nod. The mission of making Jongho fall in love with you and saving your life felt impossible when one moment he was receiving of your kindness, and the other he ignored you. 

“The flowers here are way uglier than yours,” Jongho blurted out to you. 

The shop owner, standing next to the flower shop’s door and smoking, having overheard Jongho’s words, gave him a harsh glare. He threw away his cigarette and stomped back inside, slamming the door shut. 

“Also, how does he think his shop is going to attract any customers when he is smoking next to the door?” Jongho wondered. 

You giggled. No matter how much you wanted to take the shop owner’s feelings into consideration, you couldn’t help but agree. 

“He’s quite a strange person anyways. Always comes to my garden, disguised as an old woman so he could buy my flowers without losing face,” you revealed, getting a snort from Jongho in response. 

Finally, he turned around properly to talk to you. When his brown eyes met yours, the familiar butterflies fluttered in your stomach – or maybe it was the flower petals in your lungs. Either way, you didn’t care as long as you were close to Jongho. 

“So, why did you want to meet me here?” Jongho inquired. 

You fiddled with your fingers, “I was thinking you and I could spend some time at a cafe. Take whatever you want, I’ll pay.” 

Jongho raised a brow. For a moment you thought he was going to reject your offer immediately. 

“Why?” 

“It’s a ‘thank you’ for working hard in my garden.” 

“The flowers are enough already,” he answered with no emotion. 

Your shoulders slumped. Jongho knew just how to break your heart. The hope that had been awaken when he agreed to come to the market was crushed now that he rejected your advances once again. 

“But I guess I’m quite thirsty.” 

It was his quite indirect way of finally agreeing, so soon the two of you were sitting on the terrace of a cafe that was as popular as could be in a village. 

People were walking by, the gravel under their shoes rustling nicely. It was a beautiful day, all of the migratory birds having returned from the South, and their chirping and singing reached your ears. Still, all your attention was directed at Jongho. 

He was sipping on an iced americano quietly. His black hair had fell slightly in front of his eyes, so you couldn’t see where he was looking. Sincerely, you hoped he was looking at you, longingly and lovingly in the best case. 

“I think you’ve done really good work in the garden,” you said. 

“Thank you. I’m trying my best since I still feel quite guilty for destroying your garden the first time I started working there,” Jongho simply nodded. 

Even though he didn’t seem that interested in the conversation, you felt warm just by sitting with him. A teasing chuckle left your lips, “I almost thought you did it on purpose. I mean, who thinks setting the weeds on fire is a good idea?” 

Jongho smiled, clearly amused by his past actions, “Oh, come on. It was just a moment of misjudgment. I thought it would get rid of the weeds for good.” 

“You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you,” you blurted out without thinking for even a second. 

Jongho raised a brow in his usual style, this time looking even more confused than before. 

“I-I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant you’re the best garden-helper I’ve had,” you hurried to fix the situation. 

Those kinds of slips could be even life-threatening to you. If Jongho found out you had fallen for him, he’d reject you. That would only mean a bloody, sorrowfully beautiful death for you. 

“I don’t believe that. You really have had worse workers than me?” Jongho leaned forward as if to check if his hearing had betrayed him. 

“Um, yeah. For sure. Once, my friend Wooyoung dug a hole under my shed, and it collapsed,” you lied rather not-so-smoothly. 

The man in front of you started laughing, his eyes looking like little crescents. It could have been of amusement, happiness, or mockery, but his laughter was the only thing that mattered to you. 

“Fine. Go ahead and lie to me,” Jongho rolled his eyes playfully, “That’s what everyone does to me anyways.” 

Your awkward conversation had turned into playful banter with just a push into the right direction, and you were elated that Jongho was receptive to your attempts at getting closer to him. Could you two be even called friends yet? Determined to make it happen, to earn a place in his heart, you weren’t about to give up. 

“So, why did you decide to move here?” you were curious to know which demon had possessed Jongho to make him move to such a small village. 

“I’m trying to make a person’s dream come true.” 

His response was vague, but based on his expression he wanted to avoid the topic. Not wanting to push further, you changed the topic. 

“Who are the flowers for? You’ve been quite adamant on getting them.” 

“For that person. Don’t ask more,” Jongho answered. 

The atmosphere turned strained, and you regretted prying onto his personal life. Clearly, he wasn’t comfortable sharing details about some things which you were confused about. You hadn’t realized those questions would be so private. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. 

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. But don’t ask those things again,” Jongho sighed. 

He got up from his seat, and you felt your stomach drop; had you really offended him that much? 

“Where are you going?” you looked up at Jongho with eyes looking pitiful. 

“Home. I have to take care of something,” he simply said and walked back inside the cafe, probably to fetch his jacket he had left to the rack. 

You were left alone with your own thoughts. The more you concentrated on the possibilities of Jongho hating your guts now and never wanting to see you again, the more you felt the familiar urge to cough climb up your throat. 

You couldn’t stop the violent cough fit or the petals that slipped past your lips painfully, falling to the wooden planks of the terrace. People were watching in concern, glancing at you and whispering to each other. That was the least of your worries now. Only Jongho mattered. 

Once the final petals fell, you decided it was time to leave. There was no mind in staying there, just wallowing in your own sadness. You didn’t know if coughing up flowers even was more painful than hearing Jongho’s cold, aloof voice. 

But when you walked inside the cafe to pay for his iced americano and your own drink, the barista told you a handsome gentleman had already paid for them. 

Your heart was about to swell so big that it could burst if it was poked with a needle. There was still hope. Jongho wasn’t completely out of reach, he didn’t hate you; there was no way he could, since he had paid for both of your orders. 

You didn’t want to listen to the growing voice in your head that nagged something was wrong. 

But the voice didn’t leave you alone even during the night. The nights weren’t as dark as in winter, but it didn’t make you feel better. Your soft bed swallowed you in just like your anxious thoughts did. You were nearly drowning in them. Thoughts about Jongho already having someone he loved bothered you. 

You couldn’t ignore how likely it was. After all, he had mentioned giving the flowers to someone. 

You tried so hard to sleep, to finally stop the thoughts for a moment, but they refused to leave. A headache was starting to knock on your temples. 

The thought of Jongho giving those flowers to some beautiful woman, flashing her a smile he never gave you. The thought of his warm fingers brushing against the woman’s while they exchanged words of affection. 

It made your chest ache. Lately, the pain had been getting worse day by day. To be honest, you were scared. The increasing chest pains, the bloody petals, the thoughts of Jongho loving someone while he rarely even smiled at you. There was no way to win other than by making him fall for you. 

But if he was already with another woman, you were not going to do the crime of stealing her man. That woman did not deserve to get hurt like that no matter how much you wanted Jongho. 

You had slept the night extremely badly – if two hours of keeping your eyes shut could be even called sleeping. Still, the excitement of seeing Jongho again flooded your veins with energy.  

In your energy burst, you prepared breakfast and fresh drinks for him, not even remembering the first day he had worked for you and rejected the bread you had baked just for him. It was like you never learned from your mistakes. 

Glass by glass, the self-made lemonade you had prepared disappeared into your stomach as Jongho never came. You waited for four hours. 

By the first hour, you were sure he was just late, the poor man running to your house. 

By the second hour, you thought he had slept in. He would wake up, panicked and call you to inform with his attractive morning voice that he would come soon. 

By the third hour, you considered he could be sick and couldn’t come. 

But when you had been waiting for four hours already, you had lost hope. Even thinking that Jongho had forgotten was too hopeful; surely, he just didn’t want to come. The once blue sky had been covered in black clouds, dark like your thoughts. 

Waterdrops started falling one by one, soon turning into a heavy rain. At least you didn’t have to water the plants that day. 

Unable to move for a moment, you kept staring into the distance, imagining that Jongho would run in the rain to your cottage and ask for shelter. Oh, how you wished you could just receive some basic respect and love from him. 

You gathered the plates, glasses, lemonade can and breakfast back into the basket, ready to go inside. Once again, your attempts at serving him breakfast and spending a peaceful morning with him had been destroyed. Did the universe or Jongho hate you? Despite having known him for a month already, he didn’t even give you a chance to get to know him on a deeper level. You weren’t asking for much; just normal conversations about your lives without feeling the need to hide something. 

Then again, you were hiding things from him as well. The hanahaki disease was progressing, getting worse every day, but you could never tell Jongho the truth. It was for your own safety – not just for the safety of your emotional well-being but your life. 

Jongho hadn’t appeared for a week. Every day you sat on the porch, waiting to see him walking to your garden. But there were no sightings of him even when you asked the other villagers about his where-abouts. 

The longer he was away, the worse your disease got. Whenever you coughed, more blood came out. It splattered on the floor and left a taste of iron in your mouth. Sometimes, the flower petals, which began to get bigger and thicker, got stuck in your throat and you had to dig them out with your hand. 

Despite all the love you had for Jongho, you began to realize you couldn’t let this go on. It could be too late soon if your hanahaki disease progressed into the final stage. The thought of never seeing Jongho again, feeling love for him, or remembering him broke your weak heart, but the thought of dying had begun to terrify you worse. 

The shorter, fun days in the garden turned into mentally and physically tiring work, lasting over 10 hours per day. Flower sales went up and people came to look at your garden every day, buying everything ranging from seedlings to jams you had made from the last year’s berry harvest. It was summer; while it was the busiest time of the year for you anyways, this time it was different. 

You tried to gather the money for the surgery. It was decided. Jongho wasn’t even around, and as the days passed, your condition got gradually worse. The chest pains lasted longer, a piercing feeling poking all around your heart. 

There was no way you could let Jongho keep working there; you needed those flowers he would choose as his payment. Money was more important to you now than it had ever been. 

You had tried to call him countless times to give him a chance of explaining. Just hearing his voice could have changed your mind about the surgery. Eventually you had to send a text message to Jongho, telling him you didn’t want him back in your garden again. He would never set a foot on your soft grass again or pick up flowers from the flower beds. 

Except that’s exactly what he was doing. 

One evening, you gazed from the window, deep in thoughts, and caught a glimpse of someone in the garden plucking up flowers snatched your attention. Immediately, you realized it couldn’t be anyone else than Jongho. 

You ran outside, not bothering to wear shoes. Your mind was racing and feelings conflicted. There he was again, in front of your eyes, at your reach. Were you excited to see him or mad at him for stealing your flowers? 

But when he turned around to look at you, you saw him properly and got your answer. You were definitely mad. 

As if stealing flowers from you again wasn’t bad already, but what he was holding in his hand was what made you see red. 

The only flowers you had told he couldn’t take had been ripped from the ground, leaving an ugly mess behind in the flower bed. He was holding your light pink peonies. The flowers would be dead in some days, just a memory of memories. 

“What have you done?!” you ran up to Jongho. 

It was impossible to determine if you were heart-broken or furious. Maybe there was only a fine line between those things anyways. 

“I can pay for them,” Jongho suggested, seeming surprisingly guilty. 

“I don’t want your shitty money! Those peonies were important to me.” 

Jongho’s confusion and guilt moved aside as he started defending himself, “Uh-huh? What importance they could even have to you?” 

You felt your blood boiling, threatening to burn your insides. The audacity Jongho had made you wonder how could you ever have fallen in love with a man so selfish and uncaring. 

“They are a remembrance for my parents, being the only flowers that are left from the time they were alive. Don’t you see how selfish you are being?” you took a step forward, glaring at Jongho with all your might. Maybe he’d die from your gaze, or maybe you’d die from heartbreak. 

His angry expression faltered for a moment, but he regained his control, “I’m not doing this for selfish reasons.” 

“You’re still being incredibly selfish towards me!” 

Jongho walked closer to you and looked straight into your eyes, “And why should I care?” 

The coughing was beginning again but you stood your ground, “I thought we were friends,” your voice broke a little in the middle of the sentence. 

“Then you thought wrong. I don’t have friends. You mean nothing to me.” 

You gasped. Jongho probably thought it was out of shock, but that was not the whole truth; you had started having trouble breathing. 

“You asked who the flowers are for?” he shook the peonies in his hand, “They are for a woman I actually care about. Who I love.” 

You had known it. Jongho was already in love with someone else and had been getting those flowers for that woman. All the signs had been there, but you had been such a fool in love that you lived in the delusion of him being able to love you back someday. 

“Hey... What’s wrong?” he asked as he started noticing your weird behavior. 

You couldn’t respond. The end had become; Jongho had rejected you. The coughs had started, but you knew it would not help. Too much blood, too much flowers. Too little time. 

You clutched at your throat desperately, but what use would it be? Your windpipes were full of the petals and would continue to be. All because you loved a man who couldn’t spare even an ounce of empathy for you. 

As you fell down on the grass on your knees, painting the ground with blood and petals, Jongho seemed to finally realize something was horribly wrong. 

You saw him calling someone, probably 911, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. Everything felt too fast, but it was better than to die slowly. The noises around you were starting to get quieter and slowly your sight blurred. You would have wished to see Jongho at least holding you during your last moments instead of talking in phone. Maybe he wasn’t even calling 911. He could have been talking to the woman he loved. 

But what had you expected? You meant nothing to him. 

It was dark for a long time. Felt like an eternity but nothing at the same time. 

When your eyes finally opened, you couldn’t even recognize what you were looking at. Your sight was blurry, could have been because you just woke up, but the tears in your eyes were the main reason. Why were you crying? 

In your mind, there was no cause for the tears. You couldn’t recall any moment that could have made you cry. There was a feeling of something missing in your chest, an absence of something you had grown used to. It was impossible to pinpoint it because it was like even your mind had a hole. 

After a moment, you could see what you were looking at: a ceiling. It wasn’t a surprise since you were lying down on a bed. With a few glances to your sides, it was clear you were in a hospital. An IV pump was connected to your hand with a tube. 

“E-Excuse me,” you murmured, not knowing if there even was anyone in the same room. 

Given the fact that it was not unusual for patients to be in the same room, you shouldn’t have gotten startled when a female voice answered behind a curtain dividing the room. 

“Do you need a nurse? Are you in pain?” 

She sounded young and kind yet weak, her hoarse voice indicating that she was in the hospital for a good reason as well. 

“Why am I here?” you asked. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t know. But you were under anesthesia most likely. You were asleep when they brought you here,” she answered. 

A heavy sigh pushed past your lips. You felt so tired both mentally and physically. The hole in your mind felt heavy, like something important had been ripped away from you, and you couldn’t remember what. 

“I hope you’re alright, and you won’t have to stay in the hospital for long. It gets quite boring here,” the woman behind the curtain continued. 

You smiled slightly although she couldn’t see it, “How long have you been here?” 

It was quiet for a moment as she pondered her answer, the only sound being the beeping of the machines around you. 

“Too long. I moved to a nearby village about two months ago, and I’ve spent most of the time in the hospital.” 

Despite her sad revelation, it surprised you how hopeful she sounded. It must have been awful to stay most of the day inside those four walls. 

“How much do you go out? It’s so beautiful outside,” you wondered, hoping that the question wasn’t too intrusive. 

She chuckled, “That’s the sad thing. It had been my long-time dream to move to the countryside to see the nature. I had been hospitalized for so long, and I was excited to finally get released. Now, my condition has worsened again.” 

You felt your heart ache for her. The world was so unfair; to give that sweet woman hope only to crush her dreams later. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

When she spoke, you could hear the smile she had on her face, “It’s okay. At least I have my brother. He brings me flowers often, so I could have a piece of the nature here with me.” 

The emptiness inside you throbbed at her words. Most likely, you just felt lonely, and you hoped Wooyoung would visit you. 

“That is so sweet of him. Does he live in the same village?” 

“He moved there with me. Honestly, I don’t deserve him,” she spoke, “He has been paying for my hospital bills for years, and I’m just a burden. I don’t even know how he affords the flowers he brings me.” 

A frown settled on your face at the woman’s words. How did she dare to call herself a burden? Every person is a burden to other people, some on purpose and some against their own will. The woman you were talking to was definitely not a burden so that she could take advantage of her brother’s kindness. 

“Your worth can’t be measured by some amount of money. You bring happiness to your brother by your presence and existence, and no money can pay for a true, caring relationship,” you reassured. 

“Thank you,” the woman spoke, sounding genuinely grateful. 

Then, the door opened and a man came in. He had black hair and was wearing clothes that didn’t reveal much skin. 

The man had a neutral face, eyes directed straight forward. But when he glanced at you quickly, his expression betrayed him. Feelings of surprise, sadness yet relief flooded over him, and he didn’t even bother hiding them again. 

With quick steps, the man approached you. The two of you just looked at each other, the other one confused while the other one had tears prickling his eyes. He held two flower bouquets tightly in his both hands, and he pushed the one with daisies towards you. 

“I came to see you.” 

“May I ask who are you?” you tilted your head. 

“I-I’m sorry...” the man bit his lip, clearly overwhelmed by his emotions. 

“That’s not a name,” you chuckled. 

The woman behind the curtain, having recognized the man’s voice, spoke up again, “His name is Jongho. He’s my brother.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you.” 

The man named Jongho did not look pleased. Devastation furrowed his eyebrows, and his lips quivered. You couldn’t understand why he had brought you daisies; you hadn’t met him or his sister before. 

“Don’t you remember me, Y/N?” 

You shook your head as an answer. Feeling quite worried for him, you wondered if you had lost your memories at some point. It would explain the hole you felt inside your mind. 

But you remembered everything else: your parents, all the years with Wooyoung, your garden. Every moment had been captured into your memory bank, but Jongho was a complete stranger in front of you. 

“I used to work for you. I-I had been stealing flowers from you but you suggested I’d start working in the garden to earn the flowers.” 

“I think I’ve lost my memories at some point. I can’t recall ever talking to you,” you mumbled apologetically. 

Tears started flowing down Jongho’s cheeks, and it looked like he wasn’t even trying to hold them back, “You taught me how to water flowers.” 

You couldn’t resist a surprised chuckle, “You didn’t know how to do that before?” 

“I also told you that you mean nothing to me... Just minutes after that, I had to call the ambulance,” he clenched tighter to the bouquet as he mumbled his revelation. 

That made you silent. Maybe you had known that man after all, but you still couldn’t feel anything for him. No hard feelings, no love. 

“Then I guess it’s fair now then. I mean nothing to you and you mean nothing to me.” 

Your honest words hurt Jongho visibly, but he forced an understanding expression on his face. 

He set the daisies on the nightstand next to your back-breaking hospital bed. Just looking at him made the emptiness grow. You didn’t doubt his words about the two of you knowing each other, but despite feeling bad for him, you sensed it would not be wise to reconnect with him. 

Jongho disappeared behind the curtain, obviously going to his sister. Their whispers were not audible enough for you to hear what they were talking about, but it was clear his sister was frustrated. 

You listened to them talk while trying to recollect memories of Jongho, of the times you supposedly knew him. But nothing came to mind. The more you tried to reach for the memories, the more it felt like the emptiness grew. 

Later on, Wooyoung had come to visit you. His revelation made you finally understand why you had lost all of the memories regarding Jongho. 

“You almost died, Y/N. Because of him,” Wooyoung held your hand a little too tight. It was clear he was trying to hide the turmoil deep inside of him, the fear of almost having lost you, “The doctors managed to save you with an emergency surgery.” 

Although he had told you that you had been in love with Jongho, which had caused you to develop hanahaki, you couldn’t remember anything or hold any fond feelings nor hatred towards him. Jongho’s rejection had almost taken your life, so you understood now the hope and sadness his eyes had shown. He must have been feeling guilt. 

Being in the hospital was not cheap but the cost of the surgery terrified you even more. Sure, you had gained money from selling the flowers, but it was not enough. You had to consider selling your cottage, to leave the house you had grown up in and the garden you had played in with Wooyoung since the age of five. 

One morning there was an envelope slipped in through your mail slot. 

Dear Y/N, 

This is the least I can do for you, but the most I can do in this situation. 

With best regards, Jongho. 

In addition to the letter, there were about 20 bills of $100 inside the envelope. It was the most Jongho could do to help you in paying for the surgery, given the fact that he was short of money due to his sister’s illness. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover all expenses, but you felt gratitude towards him. He wouldn’t have had to pay for anything; after all, he hadn’t known about you having the hanahaki disease. 

Eventually, the cottage was put on sale. You grimaced at the thought of someone buying it, making it their own, and possibly ruining the garden full of the memories of your childhood. It was the end of summer when you closed the front door of your home for the last time. 

Some days you blamed Jongho for ruining your life in just a few months, but he hadn’t brought only destruction into your life; you and Wooyoung had grown closer to each other because of him. There was no need to even ask for Wooyoung to let you stay at his place before you’d find your new home. The moment he found out you were selling your house, he suggested you to move in – said he wouldn’t mind if you stayed your whole life there in his care. You had answered, laughing, “You can’t even take care of a houseplant. How are you going to take care of me?” 

After that he had bought over 50 houseplants to prove your point wrong. Only one survived his tough love, but it was enough. After all, there was only one of you as well. You wouldn’t have wanted to compete for his attention with some plants anyways. 

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 2

Request: I got one. Shanks x shy afab reader Public sex, creampie, foreplay all that jazz and whatever else you think would be good

WARNING: Warning: exhibition, creampie, annoying/mean Shanks at times, public sex, foreplay, oral (reader receiving)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shanks, stop,” you said, your tone embodying the same voice one would use to scold a dog. You slapped his hand away as he reached over to give your ass a quick squeeze, your face felt like it was on fire from embarrassment. 52 minutes. It hadn’t even been an hour since you had met at the café in town. For at least 45 of those minutes, he’s been touching you in some way; his hand glued to your body.

“I’m sorry baby, you just look so good,” he said, playing with the excess ribbon that hung from the bow tying your corset together at your bust. He twirled the ribbon around his finger, knowing that a quick tug at the right angle would untie the bow and leave him with easy access to your body. You gave him a warning look. Outside of the fact that dresses aren’t the most practical option on a ship, you never wore them because it made getting access to you way too easy for Shanks. It was just too dangerous, especially with how his impulse control was when you were involved. He crowded you against a brick wall in between shops; the streets for the most part deserted. Venders had just begun to set up in the promenade you two had been walking around.

“Can I have a kiss?” he asked, smirking down at you. Despite everything you’ve been through he almost always asked for permission. Being the sole object of his focus would never not fluster you, but today you tried to stay strong.

“Shanks we were just together last night til early this morning.” You pointed out, hoping it may satiate him, but knowing nothing outside of you would.

“But tressure, I had to leave our room before I was done with you,” he started, “Plus you’re never as loud on the ship as you are when we stay somewhere else.”

“S-Shanks,” you tried to argue as his right hand tilted your chin up to force eye contact, “Fuck,” you whined as he started to stroke your cheek affectionately. You took a deep breath to attempt to center yourself before responding.

“But I can’t even remember how many times we were together last night, plus you only had to leave for the ship, an hour before our check-out time.” You tried to rationalize before adding one final comment, “I’m starting to get sore,”

“Just one kiss, tressure” he promised, “then I’ll keep my hand to myself unit we’re back in our quarters.”

“O-okay,” you responded both answering him and reassuring yourself at the same time. The smirk never left his face as you pressed up on your toes to be taller as he leaned down to meet you halfway. A moan immediately ripped out of you as he bit your lip, not enough to break the skin but, just enough to surprise you. He immediately pressed his tongue into your mouth, pinning you more firmly against the wall. You couldn’t help but whine as he deepened the kiss, totally powerless to his strength, height, and build. You were stuck under his ministration as your head became more and more clouded with lust. Your eyes snapped open when you felt something press up against your stomach. You didn’t even have to look down to confirm your suspicions. You gently pressed your hand against Shanks’ chest, he let out a disappointed groan as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.

“Shanks,” you whined as he gently grinded against you.

“Yes, my love?” he asked a look of faux innocence masking the smirk that was normally plastered on his face.

“Fuck,” you whined. You could feel yourself begin to get desperate, even though he had been inside of you less than three hours prior. It didn’t matter how often you would be together; you had begun to assimilate to his appetite. You could feel yourself getting wet, despite already being sore from his love and attention the day before.

“You said, just a kiss,” you replied, trying to ignore his advances and stay strong.

“It was just a kiss baby,” he said, mask beginning to slip, “I’ll wait til we get back to our quarters before I’ll have you again.”

“B-but,” you tried to start, but couldn’t continue because of your embarrassment.

“What is it baby?” he said, smiling slowly morphing into a smirk.

“You’re hard,” you finally relented, looking up into his eyes.

“Oh, I can wait baby. That is unless you don’t want your well-known captain walking around boner.” He said, falling back into his mischievous look; mask now gone.

“I-I” you tried to start, now truly feeling lost in the sea of embarrassment. You couldn’t help being shy, in the same way Shanks couldn’t help being a mischievous bastard.

“You?” he prompted, allowing you time to collect your thoughts.

“I can-do you want help?” you asked, looking down at his bulge. He gently tipped your chin up.

“You know I’ll always take what ever my sweet treasure has to offers,” He started, “Don’t you love?” You nod in response, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. You took one last deep breath before replying.

“Where-where would we go?” You just managed to get out. The streets had just begun to fill with early birds.

“Trust me?” Shanks asked,

“Always,” you reply in a heartbeat. He gave your forehead one last peck before looking down at you with a genuine smile. He lightly took his hand in yours after he had adjusted himself to the best of his ability. He led you down an alley in the direction of the marina. You had managed to get closer than you would have thought, stopping within a freight center; where goods were being traded, stored, and bought. There were crates surrounding you both. The piles that had two or more creates fully hid Shanks from view which wasn’t a small feat. You knew you were close to the docks as you smelled the seawater misting at the other end of the storage yard. Shanks covered your mouth with his hand preemptively, before pressing you firmly against a crate so that your stomach was touching it.

“I’m going to move my hand now love, try your best to be quiet, don’t want to draw attention to us, do you?” You nodded in response. He had you bent slightly with your hands pressed against the crate for support. You bit your lip to contain a whine as he hiked up your dress, exposing your ruined panties that he promptly slipped off. You widened your stance expecting him to tease your lower lips with his cock, before pushing in for a quicky. You couldn’t hold back the surprised gasp you let out when instead of his cock, you felt his tongue running over the seem of your pussy. You leaned more heavily against the crate in from of you as he ate you out from behind.

Your annoyance at being set up by him dissolved into lust as he began to lap at your clit while simultaneously fingering your tight cunt. You leaned firmly with your dominant arm while you held the palm of your other arm firmly against your mouth. After a minute of Shanks’ effort, you no longer need to worry about you being the reason you got caught. Every slurp, suction, and thrust of his fingers loudly echoed through the yard. The noises only encouraged his movements. As he ate you out with the same vigor he had when you two were alone in your quarters. You were close.

“Captain,” you whined just below your normal speaking volume, “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,”

Shanks blatantly ignored your warning; instead doubling down. His fingers sped up as he focused in on sucking on your clit. His only warning of the orgasm before it cut through you was the slight tremble of your legs locking up on either side of his head, keeping him in place. Your moans were thankfully muffled by your hand. You collapsed against the crate in the wake of your orgasm. Hypersensitive to Shanks’ movements as he eased his thick fingers out of your cunt. He let you recover for a moment before he gently pulled you off the crate, before pressing your back into it. Essentially trapping you between him and the create. Your mind was still hazy as you heard the telltale rusting of fabric as Shanks adjusted his clothing to free his cock. He waited until your eyes came back to focus, holding eye contact with his gleaming red eyes.

“Ready, Love?” he asked stroking your cheek.

“Yes,” you answered desperate for his cock. It was days like this that it became unclear who was a bad influence on whom. He kissed you to stifle your moan as he pushed in. He was a bit faster to start, knowing you were already partially stretched out from the events of the night before, and from the orgasm he had just granted you. Your lips stayed connected as he sped up, so overwhelmed with his pulsing cock that he no longer cared who could potentially hear or see you. Well him more than you, as he crowded your image with his body from any potential wandering eyes. He groaned as your pussy grasped him so tight it felt like you were trying to push him out. He only sped up again determined to cum with you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling away from the kiss, resting his forehead against you.

“I’m gonna cum treasure, Fuck,” he started as you buried your face into his neck, “Where do you want me?”

A whine escaped you as he gently tugged you away from his neck momentarily.

“Love,” he prompted.

“I-In me please,” you begged also turning the corner into your own orgasm. You two shared a sloppy kiss as Shanks pulled out one last time before slamming back in as hard as he could, a bruising grip from his hand on your hip. You stayed like that for a moment basking in each other’s presence before the reality of your situation hit you. You immediately pulled back away from his lips, embarrassment rising in your cheeks as you felt hot shame on the back of your neck. You tried to pull your hips, but his grip wouldn’t budge.

“Love, you have to let go, someone’s going to find us”, you whined, anxiety clear in your voice. He let out a delayed nod, only now coming down from his high. He pressed a comforting kiss to your forehead as he eased out of you, letting your skirt fall back to its place slightly below your knees. He pulled back, readjusting himself as he gazed down at you mischievously.

“What did you do?” you asked him, knowing that nothing good ever came from that look.

“If you haven’t noticed yet, it can’t be that big of a deal.” He answered vaguely before taking your hand and exiting the storage yard. You got two steps before you began to feel his release slowly slide down your upper thigh. Your eyes widened in realization.

“S-Shanks give me back my panties,” you said in a low voice.

“What these?” he asked, holding the black underwear in a way only you could see it before he shoved it into his pocket.

“S-Shanks,” you whined, “I'm already starting to leak.”

“Huh, sounds like you better get back to the Red Force. Wouldn’t want anyone to see how much of a slut you are.” He responded with a smirk, letting go of your hand as he walked away from you. Unlike normal he didn’t break pace to accommodate your shorter legs. You felt almost lightheaded from the level of embarrassment you felt as you trailed quickly behind your brat of a captain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MASTERLIST

A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^-^ I'm glad I was able to maintain and only go over a little bit. Tomorrow's prompt is a little harder and will most likely be on the longer side. I will have a kinktober master list posted later today. Hope you're all doing well!

-Locke

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 8 : Put Me On A Feeling I've Never Had

Note: Yeahh my bad, I was not supposed to be gone so long. I am so thankful anyone still here, I still love this story, my life just started lifing again you guys. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, comments and messages. Thank you to those who created things in honor of my story. I love interacting with you guys and hearing thoughts (constructively, I'm sensitive). This one is pretty long and Art and Heaven centric, but the full gang will be around in the next chapter. Once again thank you for the love and I hope you're still rocking with me. I was a little rusty but we're getting back into it. Also...there's a nasty scene, MDNI. Grown folks...the song I feel like is playing in the background is Novacane by Frank Ocean. If you guys have any songs you feel like apply to any characters or relationships in my story, please share! Thanks, hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Translation: Tanti baci- Many kisses; la mia dolce piccolina - My sweet little girl

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

2019 (California)

“Let’s go.” Tashi mumbles, tying the thick hotel robe around herself as she shuffles across the floor, forcing her lip not to curl as her scar peeks out from the heavy, white fabric. 

Art releases a deep breath, rolling from his stomach onto his back, determinedly keeping his eyes shut. His large hands blindly feel across the painfully cool, silk, sheets. Painfully empty, silk sheets. The folds slip along his fingers as he feels for a body that’s not there, finally giving up and forcing his eyes open to push off of the soft mattress. It’s not like it was offering him any comfort anyway. 

He pulls on a pair of shorts over his underwear before walking sluggishly to the bathroom to pee  and brush his teeth as he hears the hotel door clicking open, knowing none of them belong to the two people that he wanted to see the most. 

Like a zombie he stalks his way into the suite, the room filled with people Tashi hired in an effort to keep her machine oiled and running. Nutritionist, masseuse, physical therapist, assistant coach. All bustling around, shaking up the protein shake he was allowed to have in lieu of the real, delicious food that he could hear the rest of them murmuring about ordering. 

Art falls into his routine on autopilot, letting his personal trainer stretch his legs as he lies on the floor, stretching his back with the resistance band. All under the scrutiny of Tashi’s watchful eye out of her peripheral vision, focus flickering between Art and the television. He clenches his jaw and tries to drown out the sound of what feels like the 50 thousandth reporter questioning if today’s match was going to be the one that pulls him from his losing streak. 

Maybe they should get off their asses and try to see him on his court. Maybe then they wouldn’t feel so comfortable talking shit behind a desk and a camera while he was working his fucking ass off. 

“Art, relax your shoulders. You’re tense.”

That earns him another glance from Tashi, lips pursed as she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

The blond corrects his form, releasing the air constricting his chest, letting his eyes slip up toward the ceiling in resignation. 

After finishing his warm up stretches Art downs the protein shake, feet dragging lazily along as he stands in the kitchen trying to psych himself up for the day.

Donaldson has taken the win in several tournaments, even making his mark at Wimbledon, several grand slams-

That’s right, Shane. The only thing the player is missing is that elusive U.S. Open. Now, he was a fan favorite prior to a painful injury last spring, but has made a full recovery. And yet, he seems to be in some sort of slump, hopefully with the support of the new team hired by his coach he’ll be able to take the victory today in his match against DeMario-

Tashi slowly brings her gaze upward, raising her eyebrows at Art as he looks at her, dropping the plastic remote back onto the coffee table after muting the tv. Shrugging, she brings her coffee to her lips and sits back against the cushions, crossing her legs and facing the tv again. 

Art’s lips part as he works up the courage to say what he’d wanted to say for the last few months…hell maybe years. 

Before the words can come out, the door beeps again. The only other person with a key card clicks the door open and once again, the words get caught in Art’s throat, it’s too big of a risk. 

“Daddy!”

The little voice has Art’s heart clenching, blue eyes softening immediately as dark curls and big brown eyes come bouncing toward him, he’s bending to catch the girl attempting to fly into his arms, only to be stopped short.

“Hold on baby-” there goes the other voice, the one that makes his heart speed up instead of clench. Heaven lifts the squealing girl, grunting as she hoists her onto her hip, nuzzling her nose into her cheek. “Gotta let Daddy get ready for work right?”

“But I want to play with him.” his little girl whines and he could weep.

“Oh, you will, la mia dolce piccolina. But first, Daddy’s gotta get ready to play some tennis, you remember why?”

“Because he’s the best tennis player in the world.” She squeals. 

Heaven’s lips roll inward as she glances at Art then Tashi and then back to Art, whispering a quiet, “Yep.” Before walking over to the couch, lowering the little girl to Tashi, relishing in her giggles as she dangles her over the back so she can reach Tashi’s face, “Go on, tanti baci.”

Tashi smiles, accepting the uncoordinated kisses the child scatters all over her face, mumbling a thank you against her cheek before sending a meaningful look to Heaven, nodding her head in Art’s direction and turning back to the TV in front of her and turning the volume back up.

Art rolls his eyes, cocking his head back as Heaven makes her way over to him, the little girl squirming in her arms to smack her hands on her father’s cheeks. “Oh, is it my turn?”

“Yes!” She grins, cheeks dimpling in a way that makes him melt.

“Yes?” He cheeses back, blowing a raspberry into her hand and taking in each messy kiss his daughter plants on his skin. “Thank you, princess.” When his daughter releases Heaven adjusts her on her hip, a soft smile on her own face as she watches the interaction. Art stares down at her, watching the smallest of movements she gives him, her eyes flicking up to his and just as quickly turning away. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She says gently, finally giving him her eyes fully, pouty lips just begging for him to take them with his own. 

Art brings his hand to her chin, tilting it up to guide her to meet him halfway, sighing in relief when her eyes flicker closed in anticipation of a kiss. He places his other hand over his daughter’s eyes with a breathy chuckle, inching closer to her lips only to be stopped short by the creek of someone jumping up from the couch. 

“We need to get down to the courts.” Tashi calls, not looking up from her notebook, but clearly disapproving from the look he’d grown to know very well over these last few months. 

Before Art can do anything, Heaven recoils, pulling back again, this time shuffling a couple steps away, ponytail bouncing behind her as she walks between Art and Tashi, not offering either of them so much as a glance. Her voice fades as she disappears towards the kids room in the suite, the last thing he hears is her murmuring into the little girl’s ear. “Should we check on sissy? Maybe we can all order some breakfast before we watch Daddy play.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes? Pancakes are for big girls, are you a big girl who can walk on her own without running to get Daddy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good, mama, let’s get you some pancakes then.”

Art stares down the hallway, picking at the skin on his fingers as he tries to catch the rest of the conversation. Just a little bit more.

But he couldn’t have more, at least, not right now. He’d have to settle for this little bit he got. So, he scrubs his hand down his face, and grabs one of his shirts and follows Tashi out of the door, biting back a yawn.

“-and the pool.”

“And the pool? That seems like a lot of fun. I wonder when you’re going to practice your reading.” Heaven hums. She holds the door leading to the tennis courts, guiding the little girl through first before adjusting the two year old on her hip, following closely behind. “Don’t run, Aurora, walk to the seat please.” 

Her heels clack as she walks along the gravel walkway, nuzzling her cheek against the toddler in her arms, offering a soft smile to the man who helps her up to the seats reserved for Team Donaldson. Slipping shades onto her face, Heaven ducks her head to hide away from the reporters, suddenly noticing her arrival and snapping some distant pictures before they decide to swarm her. 

Tashi’s mother leans forward, kissing Heaven’s cheek, murmuring in her ear for her to pass her the baby to hold in the row behind her. Heaven crosses her legs, bouncing her knee nervously as she stares at the empty court. She bites her bottom lip until she tastes metal, and then takes to toying with the rings on her finger. 

Today is a big deal. 

The match is nothing serious. Just some young, new player who was probably absolutely pissing themselves because they’re going against the Art Donaldson. But Art’s been…struggling. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, this slump he’s in. They’ve been operating the same way for the past few years, but suddenly, it seems like Art’s checked out. It bothers her to watch him just go through the motions, like a little worker bee with no thoughts or ambition of his own. Heaven can’t stand how uninterested he seems in everything. Tashi seems to think it’s a confidence issue, at least that what she tells Heaven as she rolls her eyes and scrolls through his dropping stats. Art’s mother thinks that he needs to take another break. 

Heaven doesn’t know what she thinks. What she does know, is that Art hasn’t been fucking winning. And when Art doesn’t win, none of them win. 

“Excuse me, miss?”

Heaven jolts from her thoughts, turning to look up at a brunette lady, her hair pulled back into a probably once neat bun, mussed from rushing around, working the event. She adjusts her headset and looks down at Heaven with a smile. “Hi, yes?”

“Team Donaldson wants to see you in their waiting room.”

2007 (California: UCLA Campus)

Art claps as loud as he can as Heaven and the rest of the cast takes their bow. He watches her curtsy deeply with a pretty smile on her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. As she allows the male lead to take her hand and guide her off the stage, her gaze falls to Art, and she fixes him a strange look. 

He knows he probably looks stupid. Art can almost feel how goofy the smile on his face is, but he can’t help it. 2 hours and 15 minutes. That’s how long he got to watch her. She came on and off of the stage but his eyes followed her the whole time. It felt like she was only on stage for 3 minutes. Time suspends while Heaven dances. Art watched her body contort, and her muscles stretch as she moved across the stage. He felt fucking privileged. Like he didn’t deserve that experience. He doesn’t know how Patrick and Tashi could pass up the opportunity to see her like this. The glow on her face as she tells a story with her form. 

Art is startled by a soft nudge to his side, turning to see Heaven’s stepfather giving him a knowing grin. The blond coughs, finally and fully shaking the trance he’d been in and giving the older man his attention. “She’s…she’s amazing.”

“Believe me, I know, my daughter is the brightest star.” Luca pats Art roughly on the arm, his strong hand a stark contrast from his kind smile. “It seems like you know that too.”

Art feels his face heat, eyes briefly darting back toward the stage. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And your friend, Patrick, does he know?”

If this was any other situation he’d cover for his best friend. Art would tell the older man that something happened. Make up some excuse, some lie as to why Patrick wasn’t here to support his girlfriend. But he didn’t have it in him. 

Why should he? Why should he talk his way out of something good? If Patrick actually knew what he had he’d be here. Tashi he can excuse, she’s recovering. But even then, Art can’t think of anything on God’s green earth right now that would have been able to keep him from watching her like this. Or even just the chance to spend time with her. 

"Heaven deserves...everything."

A few minutes pass before Heaven comes barrelling out, leaping into her stepfather’s arms like a little girl, her smile wide as she cuts their brief conversation about the other dancers Art missed while he was in his Heaven induced daze. The elder man grunts as he catches her, showering her in praise and presenting her with the Chanel gift bag before slipping into the conversation that her mother was unable to make it. 

Art enjoyed the warmth of the moment. He basks in the joy on her face, and the hum of jealousy at the fact that he’s not the one causing it is manageable, remaining at a low thrum in his chest. When she finally turns to address him, he straightens, determined not to sound like a fanboy meeting his celebrity crush. 

“Well?” Heaven cheeses up at him, clearly waiting for her ego to be stroked. She rocks on her feet, her hands clasped together behind her back. She’d loosened her hair out of the intricate style she’d performed with, but still stood before him in her final costume, looking like a princess who walked straight from a fairytale. 

“Well…I’m gonna empty my bank account to get tickets for every other night, so-”

“Then I’ll expect to see you there. I’ll put on a good show” She says softly, pushing onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Heaven brings her lips to Art’s ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um,” Art’s voice cracks as he feels her press against him, not knowing how to embrace her in a way that wouldn’t give away the fact that she literally made him fall in love with her all over again moments before. He settles for rubbing her back, holding her a beat longer than what’s appropriate. He holds himself back from tightening his arms around her when she does pull away, opting to present her with the flowers he’d bought her instead. “I got you these. I  saw they gave you some when you were taking your bow but…these ones are from me.”

Heaven bites her bottom lip glancing behind him and then back into his eyes. “Thank you, Art.”

“Yeah. You were beautiful, Hev.”

Luca’s eyes narrow as he looks between his stepdaughter and the young man he’d watched sitting on the edge of the fabric theater seat the entirety of the performance. He’d expected to be joined by Heaven’s boyfriend tonight. He’d heard from Tashi that she still was not feeling well and his wife made it abundantly clear that until Heaven was part of a company that she deemed professional, she would not be making the effort to attend a performance. 

So when a young man came in looking like he was about to win the lottery, eyes glued to the stage before the performance even began, stars in his eyes and hands gripping the side of the seat, he thought this was him. The older man was relieved, really. He’d love for Heaven to be his baby forever. He’d never take for granted the day that he was taking his niece to the ballet to see Coppélia. She was briefly in town and he’d taken the night off work to take her out while his sister and brother-in-law got a break. He’d gotten the nicest seats in the house to show his niece a good time. 

What Luca hadn’t expected was for a beautiful woman to tap him on the shoulder, her adorable little girl dressed like the doll in the ballet peeking out from behind her leg. The woman had all but demanded that he and his niece trade places with her and her daughter, offering to pay him after pointing out that his niece was asleep and not paying attention anyway. 

He didn’t mind giving up the seat, in exchange for the beautiful woman’s number, and the bright smile on the little girl’s face. She was missing her front two teeth and was barely taller than her mother’s knee, but he watched them. He saw the little girl stare up at the dancers with wonder, sitting with her back straight, imitating their arm movements as the ballet went on. He watched her mother smile down at her, pointing out things the little girl might miss. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with the woman and her daughter, and soon, they were a family. 

But now, the little girl who used to ask her stepdaddy to twirl and lift her like the big girls he took her to see was on stage where she belonged. And there was a boy. A man. Here, mesmerized by her. He watched the love in the boy’s eyes in real time. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be here, on the edge of his seat, watching his little Stellina shine. No, he was a friend. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to be rooting for the boy in front of him when he hadn’t met the boyfriend. Maybe he owed him a chance to prove himself too. But one thing he and Beatrice had instilled in Heaven, trait that she and her Tashi share, is knowing you have to earn the things you want. Tonight is the first big night of many for Heaven. But, it was the first. She deserved support. As long as Luca was alive she would have it, but he’s not naive. He knows he won’t be enough anymore. And it all boils down to one thing. Art was here. Patrick was not. 

So, if he invited Art to dinner, it was because he’d earned a seat.

“I could have been a pro, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Utensils clang over the music and chatter of the restaurant Heaven and her dad had guided him to. Apparently, they went to it every time Mr. Whitlock visited Heaven at school. It’s an American Steakhouse and Brewery. Fancy enough that he couldn’t come in sweats, which Patrick would have hated. But not so fancy that they had to be all stiff and uncomfortable like at the restaurants his dad normally drags him to.

“Papino, please-” Heaven whines, dramatically dropping her head into her hands. 

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Art.” The older man waves his hand, dismissing his daughter playfully. Leaning in conspiratorially to Art. “My daughter is closed minded, but she is not the only athlete in our family. If my football career would have taken off-”

“You see!” She points, sitting up pointing at her father. “Football” she mocks with a thick italian accent. “Ask him where he was born, Art.”

“It’s not about the birth place!”

The blond chuckles at the exchange, enjoying the banter between father and daughter. He wishes he and his dad had this. Jokes. Familiarity. Heaven softens around him. He remembers what she looked like around her mom. Tense. Nervous. Insecure. And around everyone else, it was like she held herself apart. She stays where its safe, next to Tashi, in their own world, keeping everyone else out. Just the two of them plotting their world domination together. Art often found himself feeling jealous, like he was on the outside begging to be invited in. But right now she’s open. Showing him things he;d never gotten to see from her before. “Where are you from Mr. Whitlock.”

“Luca.” The older man corrects, taking a sip of his water. “And italy-”

Art feels a foot brush his leg under the table and whips his head to look at Heaven, willing his face not to turn pink and for his dick not to get hard as her lips mouth to him ‘New York’. 

“You see this? Arthur, when you have daughters, don’t spoil them, they’ll turn into brats, like my Heaven.”

“A brat? I’m not a spoiled brat. Art, am I spoiled?” she asks, leaning against his arm, fixing her big brown eyes at him. 

Art could fucking melt.

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at him and confuse the boy, here” Luca reaches over and musses his daughter’s hair, earning a laugh and a whine that he’d pay if he messed it up. “Answer now.”

“Hev…”

“Art, no.” She pouts.

“I’m not gonna lie to your dad, you’re a princess, Hev, it’s just what you are. Pretty girls like you tend to get what they want.” He jokes, pinching her cheek. Heaven swats his hand away and crosses her arms, mumbling about them ganging up on her.

“Sorry,” A voice calls from beside the table. It’s their waitress, carrying the desserts they’d ordered. “I didn’t want to interrupt, your chocolate mousse, sir.” The waitress places Luca’s plate down in front of him and he naturally sighs as his daughter’s eyes automatically shift away from it to her glorified fruit cup. He wishes she’d let herself indulge, but he knows from experience. Heaven will not bend. Her discipline will not break. Even as she eyes Art’s strawberry cheesecake, a snack that happens to be her favorite. 

The older man doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it’s certainly not what he sees. He watches the blond young man push the plate toward Heaven, and as he suspects, she pushes it back, the glass is pushed back and forth until the boy shrugs, placing his hands in his lap, as if declaring that if she didn’t have any, he wouldn’t either. Another thing his daughter hates. Waste. 

Heaven rolls her eyes, scooping a small piece of the creamy dessert onto her spoon and taking it into her mouth, causing the boy to grin with victory. Victory that is short lived and replaced with flushed embarrassment when she grabs his chin, taking a much larger scoop and pushing it into his mouth with the same spoon. Luca can’t help but join his daughter in laughing as the boy sputters trying to swallow the hunk she fed him. But he also can’t help but notice her bringing his water to his lips, rubbing his back and thanking him for a piece of his cake. The cake that he didn’t touch again, the grimace he’s hiding clearly revealing that he doesn’t like strawberry cheesecake and that his decision may not have been a coincidence after all. 

As they close out their meal, he thinks back on what he witnessed that night. Heaven’s beautiful dancing had definitely been the highlight. But as his daughter and the boy who had stars in his eyes as he looked at her spoke about everything and nothing he had a feeling that he was witnessing something even more rare.

And this would not be the last time he saw Art Donaldson.

“He likes you.” Heaven singsongs, strolling into the doorway as Art holds it open, following closely behind her. “My dad.”

“Thank God, I was worried about that.” Art breathes, letting her lead him to her dorm room door. 

When she reaches her unit Heaven turns, leaning against the door and looking up at the blond man in front of her. “Why? Pressure’s not on you, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” Art just raises his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Too soon?”

“Uh, yeah,” he breathes, dropping his head slightly. “Pretty sure it’ll always be too soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He forces himself to ask her the question burning in his mind, looking at the floor. “Have you…have you heard from him?”

“No. But, I’m pretty sure I’m not the girlfriend he’s worried about losing.” She shrugs.

“He’s just…if…Patrick’s a fucking idiot, alright?” Art needs her to understand it’s not her. She’s not the problem. He would do anything for her to get the only issue is that Patrick isn’t right for her. He can’t handle her looking up at him with sad eyes like those. Her gorgeous rose petal lips should only ever be spread into a smile. Leaning his forehead to hers, Art lets his eyes slip closed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna be a really shitty friend right now, so if you really don’t want to hear it, you should go in your dorm and I’ll drive back to school and kick myself for fucking up with you again.”

“Art, you promised-”

“You wouldn’t have to wonder if you were with me. I meant what I said. I’d be at every show, every rehearsal, fucking, I’ll sit in a room and watch you twirl for fun if you want me to. I want to make you happy.”

“Art, what do you want me to do?” she whines, literally stamping her foot on the carpet, still not moving, sharing his air. 

“Let me show you how good it could be.”

“You want to sleep with me-”

“I’m in love with you.” he sighs. “I’d do anything. Let me show you.”

“You should stop saying that.” Heaven says wearily, running her hand through blond curls. “I’m starting to believe you.” 

He sighs again, leaning into her hand and scanning her features intently, waiting and watching for a sign that this is going in his favor. He just wants to be with her. Take care of her. He’d be so good at it. She just has to let him try. 

And then a miracle happens. 

Art’s brain blows a fuse as he feels Heaven’s lips against his. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s tasted her. He wills himself to take it slow, but as her lips part for him he finds himself groaning and wrapping his arms around the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. Being with Heaven feels like being an addict getting a fix of their favorite drug. It’s euphoric. A high he can chase with all his might but the only thing that got him to true ecstasy what having her. 

He’s almost scared of what making love with her would do to his psyche. 

Patrick would call him a pussy for saying it that way. But that’s the only thing that he could conceive of calling what he was about to do. Or, the only thing he could say that would be applicable and not sacreligious. 

Heaven gasps as the cool air of her room hits her as she grips Art’s shoulders to keep her balance as he carries her in. The sound of her keys hitting the floor is drowned out by her attempts at breathing steadily and what could only be described as whimpers coming from Art as he bites and sucks at her skin. She hadn’t expected him to be the type to like to leave marks. But here the usually gentle man was, manhandling her onto her champagne, silk bed set, head buried in her neck like a fucking vampire, large hands switching between shoving up her shirt and tugging down her pants.

She scrambles to pull at his shirt, squeaking out the word, “Off.” as his lips encase one of her nipples. 

He listens immediately, reaching one hand back and whipping his own shirt off before kissing a wet trail down her body, kissing her hip bone, tucking a finger under her underwear. Art pauses then, waiting for confirmation that he could continue. He looks like a wounded puppy when Heaven sits up, legs effectively closing to him. 

The somber look is immediately traded for one of shock and then pleasure when she guides him to sit in the bed, and climbs into his lap, her hand unzipping his shorts and pushing into his boxers. “Fuck, Heaven-”

“I figure, I should thank you. For showing up for me today,” she whispers into his ears, relishing in the noises he makes as one of his hands grips the blanket below them and the other buries into her hair. “and any other day since I met you. I do appreciate you, Art. You matter to me.”

Art’s desperate, lifting his hips each time her hand moves up, leaning into her as she whispers in her ear. “I…fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel good? Is that why you wanna be with me so bad, handsome?” she hums, squeezing the tip and trying not to react to his tightened grip when she does.

“I wanna be with you because I…fucking oh fuck, I fucking love you.” he breathes, chest rising and falling, his abs flexing with effort. “Fuck, let me see your face.”

“But I wanna keep talking to you.” Heaven says, letting her lips brush the skin of his ear. “You’re attracted to me, Arthur. You want to fuck me. That’s all. S’okay.”

Art’s eyes squeeze closed and he pulls her even closer to him. “No, I love you. Even if I can’t fuck you.”

“Really?” She twists her wrist and changes the pressure in her grip.

“Unh, fuck, no I love you, but I need to fuck you.” He whines.

 Art drags his hand from the back of her neck to cup her jaw, guiding Heaven to his lips. He kisses her deeply. She can’t describe it. But she feels it in her toes. She can feel the intensity. This wasn’t what she was used to. This kiss felt like something she’d never experienced before. It felt like begging. Like he was pleading with her to understand. He needed her to get what he means, what he feels. When he says anything he means anything. When he says he loves her he means it. 

And for the first time, even in her own mind, Heaven acknowledged that she wanted him to know she felt the same way. 

So when he pulls away to give her air, she chases his lips, capturing them again and getting another taste of the same intensity he’d given her before. “I really tried, you know. To stay away from you.” 

“Don’t stay away from me, I need you.” He breathes against her lips, his own dragging along them as they refuse to take any more space from each other. Art nudges her nose with his softly, dropping his hands to her waist. “Heaven, please.”

“What do you want me to do, Art?” Heaven asks, pulling him from his pants. Her eyes locked on him. He’s blurry in her swimming  vision, but she can see him build the courage to tell her what he needs from her, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you love me too.” he says against her lips, holding her down against him, rocking her hips to set a pace with his hands. “Tell me, baby. Please.”

“I love you.” 

“Again.”

“I fuck I love you.”

“I love you. Again.” he groans, guiding her a little faster, sliding one hand down and tugging at her underwear again. This time she pushes up onto her knees, separated by his thighs, she helps him get the fabric off of her body as his gaze follows her upward, leaning his head back. 

“Arthur.” she says sternly, cupping his cheeks with her hands, “I mean it.”

Art and Heaven share a gasp as she sinks down on him, his strong, calloused hands grip soft, muscled thighs as they share two pecks before pushing their foreheads together, both peering down to where they’re joined together, the only sounds in the room are the slow creaking of the bed and the pants passed between the pair.

Heaven had never felt so close to someone before. She’d never felt this good. All she could think about was Art. Art’s hands on her, squeezing her, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her eyes whenever they slip closed as she rises and falls above him. 

Art’s eyes, that drink her completely. The perfect mix of blue and brown, glossy and locked on her. He always demands her eyes. He’s made it clear he loves when she looks at him, but the way Art looks at her…it’s like he worships her. It’s like he’s worried if he blinks she’d be gone. He makes her feel the most beautiful she ever has.

He’s beautiful. It distracts Heaven to look at him, beneath her, yet somehow demonstrating his strength. Holding her up, guiding her movements with his strong arms, veins running up the muscles that hold her. All while offering her the prettiest slurred moans.

“Fuck, Heaven, you feel so good.”

“So good, squeezin’ me, you need me baby?”

“He didn’t fuck you like he loved you, no one can. Only me, gorgeous. No one can love you like I can.” 

“S’like I’m meant to be inside you.”

As Art’s thrusts grow harsher and deeper, they keep their slow pace. Heaven buries her head in his neck, letting him rock her as she cries into his skin. She feels the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

Art feels her tighten around him and suddenly he’s lucid. The squeeze pulls a cry from him before he’s turning his head to be in her ear. “You gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Heaven whimpers.

“Yeah? Fuck…I’m so glad, baby. Hold on okay?” He lifts her then, earning a squeal from Heaven as he rolls them so he’s above her, just barely hovering as he brackets her with his arms. Art leans down, placing his weight on her before pushing into her again, staring down at her face as she bites her lip, trying to silence her noises. “Please don’t. I fucking dream of those sounds, I wanna hear them. I earned them, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Art-”

“Fuck yes, baby, say my name.” He groans, dropping his head to her chest, pressing open mouthed kisses and littering hickeys along her breasts. “”Cum for me.” He pants against her damp skin.

Art has never heard anything more beautiful. He’d never felt anything fucking like it. In the few years he’s spent on this earth, he’d never experienced anything like feeling Heaven Whitlock cum around him. He almost feels sorry for the past version of himself that hadn’t been inside of her yet. If he had known…maybe it was best he didn’t know. He fell in love with her before any of this. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Maybe it’s just Heaven. Maybe her parents knew what the fuck they were doing when they named her.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go back to being a person after this. How is he supposed to want to do anything else? He feels like a fucking junkie, worried about when he’d get his next fix. He needs to treat every kiss like it could be his last. Every touch. Every moan. Every thrust. He wants to live here. With her. In her. 

It’s not even over. Art’s still fucking her right now and he’s praying to God that she won’t leave again. She can’t take this from him. She can’t take herself away from him. Her pretty face, crying out for him. Looking at him. Loving him. That’s right baby, eyes on me.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He whines, kissing her deeply as he feels her wrap her legs around him, pulling her closer. “Fuck…I’m-” Art starts to panick, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost over. Then she’ll go. She’ll make him go. He wants to be close. Together. He needs more. More time. Please-

“It’s okay, I…feel- I want you to cum, Art.” She presses the sweetest kiss to his nose, wiping dampness from underneath his eyes that he didn’t even realize was there. “I love you.”

It’s the most innocent thing in the world. A little peck on his nose. 

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

“I fucking love you.”

He basically fucking blacked out. She came again…with him. Art could die now, and he’d be fine.  Somewhere in his mind he feels like what they just did altered his life. He knew he wanted Heaven. He knew that when he first saw her. He knew he loved Heaven, he found that out when he saw her dance. But this intensity he feels…he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked. Anything to make her smile. If she’d just stay. 

And despite knowing her for only a couple of months, almost a year now, he knows exactly what she’s about to do. They’ve played this game before.

“So, um,” She clears her throat, rolling out from under him as he releases her, laying on his side and staring as she slips off of the silk sheets and reaches in her drawer, pulling out a white nightgown. Heaven wraps her arms around herself. Closing off. Covering up. “I’m…I’m on birth control so you don’t have to worry that you…”

“Came inside of you?” Art asks, a soft smile on his lips. 

Heaven straightens, eyes narrowing. “Yes. That. And now I have to go pee.” She turns to leave for the bathroom, only to feel a large hand encase her wrist, tugging her back toward the bed.

“Are you really going to pee?”

“Yes, where else would I go?”

He tilts his head, still holding onto her, running his thumb over the back of her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “You have a tendency to run-”

“I don’t run.”

“Hev, baby, you run. When we get close. We were really close just now.”

Heaven sighs, rolling her eyes before climbing back onto the bed, swinging her leg over Art to straddle him again, this time pulling the fabric of the blanket between them. She intertwines their hands that are not already clasped together, and Art lifts his knees for her to rest her back on. “You scare me.”

The blond man stares up at his lover with a confused look. As she sits perched prettily on his lap he can see she’s being earnest. The anxiousness on her face makes his heart hurt. All he could think is that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt her. She has nothing to fear. But he lies quietly. Letting her playfully pin his hands down with her own, leaning down to his face. 

“I don’t get what you’re doing here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m earning you. Like you said.” 

“That game is way over-” Heaven giggles, rolling her eyes. “What happens if you get me and you figure out I’m not worth it.

“That’s not possible. We both know that, Hev. You’re everything. You’re perfect.”

She shakes her head at that, nuzzling his nose again. “Fucking tennis players, man. Toxic ass bunch.” Heaven huffs at herself, shaking her head. “Just can’t leave ‘em alone. You know, Tashi gave me her blessing to hook up with you? Told me to get you out of my system already.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” He steels himself, letting her weight above him be his anchor. He commits this feeling to memory. Just in case she’s about to say this was a fluke. In case this really didn’t mean what it meant to him to her. “Did it work?”

“I just told you I loved you and let you nut in me Arthur.” Heaven deadpans. 

“I know it was awesome.” He smiles goofily, lifting their joint hands and nudging her dimple with his knuckle. 

“Oh, was it awesome?” she mocks, leaning down and biting his cheek lightly, giggling as he finally stops indulging her and rolls her to lay in front of him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I actually do need to pee.”

“You sure?” he mumbles against her cheek.

“U-T-I.” she hums, patting his head before pushing up, his arms allow her to move this time. Heaven smiles flirtily at him before slipping out of the door. 

Art lies back on her bed and smiles to himself. She’s right. She did say she loved him. He’s never felt more alive than he does right now. Everything about this felt so right and real. Things were how they should be. Art with Heaven. Heaven with Art. 

It was like he was high. Nothing could take it away from him. This moment was perfect. They were in love, and happy and nothing would pierce this bubble they’d created.

Except that damn buzzing.

Art tells himself he thought it could be his or her phone.

They’re both discarded on the floor. It could be anything. An emergency. With her parents. His. Tashi. Anything. 

He tells himself he didn’t even consider it could be Patrick texting her. And when his jaw clenches, and he runs his hands through his own hair hastily before opening the texts, he tells himself that he saw his best friend’s name and wanted to make sure he was okay. And that he showed great restraint when he chose to delete the message he sent Heaven, claiming to miss her and expressing the need to talk. He could’ve thrown the fucking thing against the wall. He could’ve sent the motherfucker a picture of himself in her bed. Instead he protected her feelings.

And sure. He felt guilty. There was definitely a weight on his chest as he placed the phone perfectly back on the floor where it was and climbed back on the bed. 

But Art can admit, it definitely got lighter when Heaven came tiptoeing back into the room, smiling at him, for him, lifting his arm so she could lay with her back to his chest. Twisting her body to kiss him and promising to talk to Tashi. 

And it for fucking sure went away when she bid him goodnight. “Goodnight…I love you.”

It’s time he and Patrick take some space anyway.

“I love you too.”

[paradlselost]

i am so glad im finding another person who writes for far cry :)) if possible, can we see a jacob seed x gn!deputy who replaces pratt as his prisoner? it ends with jacob being their one and only, (even if its dubcon)

WIND — UP TOY

jacob seed x gn!deputy

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ ty for being my first submission ! jacob and his region lowkey scare the shit out of me lmao 🙏 kinda a little fucked up but I mean it’s jacob seed . also sorry this took so long ); smut below the cut

no use of y/n , reader is referred to as ‘ deputy ’ . gender specific nicknames are replaced by ‘ pup ’ . not beta - read

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ blasphemy , deputy is treated like a dog , implied forced cannibalism , implied death of a minor character , brainwashing , jacobs his own warning isn’t he ? smut : dub - con , degrading , oral ( m receiving ) , soft - ish sex , penetration , dacryphillia , one - sided orgasm .

It always crept up on him when he least expected it; when things began to have a sense of normalcy. His days a haze and his nights clouded with gunfire and explosions, dreams marred with blood and the guts of former comrades and men who died far too young. For what?

What is the American dream when the world is going to end anyways? What are the soldiers overseas fighting for when the rivers will soon flow with blood and the ground tarred with ash?

His hand runs over his face; rubbing tired eyes. Demons of his past prey on him while he sleeps, turning him weak. Two to three hours is good enough for him, leaves him rested enough for his eyes to focus on the maps in front of him.

Being the leader of the army of Eden’s Gate wasn’t an easy job, though he held it with pride - a cardinal sin - but Joseph would forgive him as long as the prophecies his little brother had bouncing around his head came true. Jacob didn’t know if he believed in anything, really, it was hard to imagine God was with the soldiers that clutched cross pendants behind HESCO barriers.

But where he might’ve drifted from the true meaning of the cause further and further, where he might’ve argued the existence of a higher power with Joseph; one thing grounded him to his purpose and place in the cult. The Deputy.

Joseph’s ramblings were insane to the layman and gospel to the believer - but it seemed right now they were damn prophetic. Everything he said the Deputy would do; they did, and left bodies in their wake. Sometimes, he would watch whatever the cameras picked up of them on his screens, how they traversed the Whitetails with an almost practiced knowledge.

Sometimes, he felt like the eighteen year old new enlistee again when he watched them. The blood, the gunfire. Jacob Seed was a tough man, righteous and brave, but he would look down at them in their cage and feel the fire on his skin from the ranch he burned all those years ago.

He hated the feeling, wanting to drive his pocket knife into his chest and carve out every semblance of memory he had. But then his music box would rewind, and he would hear the sweet sound of the Platters crooning through the wood and metal and maybe, just maybe, things would be okay for him.

So he watched the way the Deputy writhe behind those thick steel bars against the cold soil, not afforded the luxuries even the most depraved prisoners received. Weak and idiotic for attempting to save their friend; but a mind that could be molded with the right tune.

Staci Pratt was a good pet; Pavlovian in nature and willing to do anything for the oldest Seed brother, so maybe that’s why Jacob began to grow bored of the man. Maybe that’s why he entertained the cracks beginning to show in the conditioning, how Pratt’s eyes softened at the sight of their co-worker being taunted by the Herald and yet knowing there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

An escape plan, of course he knew about it, he had eyes and ears everywhere and could always tell when one of his dogs stepped out of line. A perfectly timed truck, the siren going off to alert that a prisoner had escaped, catching Pratt as he allowed the Deputy to leave without him. It was almost sweet, but moreover vomit-inducing, like a lamb.

Sheep are creatures controlled by their own nature, that’s why dogs have to herd them back into formation - like a general in charge of new recruits. Intolerables are discharged, lambs are taken to the slaughterhouse. Nature, the circle of life, the bad meat is thrown out for the poor and needy to pick through.

“Eat. You wouldn’t want to fall sick, would you?”

A tin was placed in front of the Deputy, they had been through this before. Starved for however many days Jacob deemed necessary - usually ten - before they are given nothing but raw meat to eat. Never did they think they would yearn for the peanuts and beer served at the Spread Eagle, but there was no position to argue about what they were being given here.

Some fell over the side as greedy hands shoveled clump after clump into their mouth, covering it in a pitiful yet successful attempt to keep it down. Never did they ask what kind of meat it was, choosing to instead assume it was from one of the many cow farms in the valley.

“You’re hungry, aren’t ya, pup? You’re lucky, that’s a nice cut of meat.” A grin played on his face as he leaned against the metal bars, fingers grazing over his music box. There wouldn’t be any culling today, no, he had a much better idea in mind.

“Where’s Pratt?”

“Not even a thank you for my generosity, aren’t you fierce?”

“Where is he?”

“Peaches’s little act of rebellion earned him a punishment, I mean; that’s only fair. In a war like this you can’t go sympathizing with the devil, no matter how well you knew them before.”

It’s not an answer, but there’s an unspoken understanding that that is the closest thing the Deputy will get to knowing. A huff falling from their lips, ever the ungrateful dog; but their bowl is licked clean and what more can Jacob ask for?

A soft tsk fell from his lips, cold and condescending because how could he be anything but? Did the thing below him deserve care and kindness? Maybe at some point when they were strong, when their mind was still their own, but now they were nothing but a lamb being fattened for the slaughter.

His fingers grasped their chin, forcing eye contact and no doubt leaving marks that would form bruises. How much had they been through? Chest slashed with the markings from Jacobs little brother and mind already foggy from the bliss that grew in the Henbane; but there was a certain pride he took in being the one to break them.

How much time had passed? Had anyone come looking for them? Jacob had often taunted them, used the fact that they were immobile against the conditioning he had given them to contact anyone. The rebellion would fall without their snake, maybe it already had, how would the Deputy know?

It wasn’t their place to think anymore, to simply let the oldest Herald put a leash around their neck and sit beside like a good dog. Their mind wasn’t their own, now it belonged to him and they had no room to complain.

“Look at’chu, open your mouth.” But he didn’t wait for them to comply, instead he bullied his fingers against their tongue, exploring over their gums and teeth. They could bite him, certainly, but they didn’t - wouldn’t.

Who was Jacob Seed but their owner? He had saved them from themselves, from the blood and the gore and the fire that threatened to burn the world to nothing but ashes. Joseph had greeted them in their new form, John had shown up to pout, but their eyes only ever stayed on the eldest.

“Such a good pup, ‘ did a wonderful job training you, huh?” He asked as if they could answer, as if they weren’t preoccupied by the fingers that traced their mouth like he was mapping them out.

A hum passed from his lips as he removed his fingers, instead moving to undo the buckle on his belt. Even in this state, the Deputy wasn’t stupid and could very clearly tell what was coming next. So, to hopefully avoid any wrath from him, moved to help undo his pants.

Leaning back in his chair and observing as they removed his pants, fingers trailing over the growing bulge in his boxers. Jacob was a stoic man, never did the Deputy know if they were really doing good, but he didn’t scold them so there was no stopping.

Hands smoothed out the black fabric a bit nervously, playing with the hem for a moment before a soft grunt from the Herald alerted them. Knowingly, their fingers hooked underneath the waistband and pulled it away from his freckled skin, letting it pool at his ankles along with his pants.

Wrapping around the base of his still hardening cock, their eyes fluttered up to meet his gray ones. A silent beg, a plea that they were doing alright and there would be no punishment later. All they got in return was a small nod; though there was no love or care behind it. More like a drill sergeant instructing a particularly moldable soldier.

Gentle, unsure licks placed against his tip, hand working against the base; fingers brushing against veins that worked overtime to pump blood to his dick. Jacob Seed was not one for taking his sweet time, his fingers tangled in their hair as he pushed their head down on his aching cock.

A soft gag fell from their lips, hands moving from him to settle on his toned thighs. A heavy breath leaving their nose as they tried their hardest to relax, nuzzling against his untamed ginger hair. He relished in the warmth of their throat, the tightness eliciting a groan as he pushed his hips up.

Their gagging was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, the soft whimpers and tears that emitted from the Deputy as they tried their hardest to just breathe through their nose. He loved the power he held over them, how those pretty tears fell for him.

“Cmon pup, look up at me.”

Fighting between lifting their head to meet his gaze and keeping their mouth wrapped around his cock, the Deputy managed to tilt their head up enough to see him. His smirk widened, cock throbbing against their throat as he watched the tears continue to fall from them.

Another few thrusts to the back of their throat before he groaned, pulling their head off his dick with a small ‘pop’. A trail of saliva still connected their lips, pre-cum mixed in with it. He couldn’t help the laugh that emitted from him at the sight of their swollen lips and heavy breathing.

“Poor thing. Don’t cry, I take care of you, don’t I?”

The Deputy couldn’t do anything but nod, and maybe it was a bit true. Jacob did care for them in his own sick and twisted way. In the back of their mind they wondered if this was how he treated Pratt behind close doors; more like a prized trophy than a lover.

His hands grabbed at their hips, pulling them onto his lap. The small barrier of whatever clothes they had been wearing on their lower half before was quickly removed, giving him access to everything he wanted.

Burying their face into the crook of his neck and wrapping arms around the back of him, the Herald lifted their hips once more to guide himself inside their needy hole before pushing them down onto him. Stretching, pain emanating from the sudden intrusion, he could feel the tears that fell from them and landed against his skin.

He cooed, a grin still wide on his face. His hands still settled on their hips, guiding them up and down on his cock. Gentle movements at first that quickly devolved to an almost feral extent. His pre-cum marred the inside of their hole, creating wet and sticky sounds everytime he fucked in and out of them.

It felt like a dam was about to break by the time Jacob decided he was finished. Loud sobs wracked their body as they cuddled closer to him, so close yet so far. His hips continued to move for a moment; stuttering and shifting a bit before he released inside of them, filling them with his cum.

The Deputy finally leaned back after a moment, tears still flowing from their now red eyes, sniffling - but they still attempted to move their hips over him. To get any kind of release as the Herald caught his breath. Needily grinding against his lap, hands clutching his shirt in a pitiful attempt that only made him laugh more.

“Oh, look at’chu. Pup needs to get off too, huh? Don’t worry, I told you I’ll take care of you.”

[pochipop]

＃OVERWATCH !! ♡ — COMING BACK HOME TO YOU.

#. synopsis! — how they greet you after being gone for a bit .

#. characters! — pharah, moira, tracer, sombra, ashe .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ PHARAH (FAREEHA) !! ♡

In spite of the soreness and the body aches from parading around in her heavy armor for the last few weeks, Fareeha’s face lights up with a smile the moment she sets her eyes on you. All those restless nights on duty simmer out to a distant memory now that she’s seen your face again. She doesn’t care who's around to see as she pulls you in, hugging you tightly, —almost crushingly (in a good way.) You bury your face in her chest, taking in her scent and her body’s natural warmth. In the embrace, she revels in your presence, allowing herself the time to reacclimate to your affection in lieu of the harsher conditions of battle. Though she’s trained long and hard to be the top-notch soldier that she is now, it’s hard to deny the downsides of her job now that she has someone waiting for her back home. The drawbacks aren’t enough to keep her on the ground forever, at least not right now, but one day she knows there’ll be a time when she returns, and it will be the last. The frontlines won’t call her name any longer. . . But you will. And you’ll let her hold you all the same. She leans in to kiss you, cradling your cheeks in her calloused hands, mumbling how much she’s missed you against your lips, and in a rare lack of stubbornness, she won’t argue when you tell her she should go and get some much-needed rest.

＃ MOIRA !! ♡

Moira doesn’t like to be fussed over, but she’s not beyond affection. Not in private, at least. Upon her return, she’ll take her time tying up any loose ends from the mission, walking through the labs on three hours of sleep at most, but her mind still sharp as ever. It’s incredible, really, the force that woman is even on the worst of days. She’ll make you wait until her work-related tasks have all been handled appropriately, —and then she’ll finally turn her attention to her sweet, lovesick angel who’s been waiting so long for her arrival. When she does, it’s almost like the weight of the world falls away, both from your shoulders and her own. She may not show it outwardly, but you can tell by the way her body loses the majority of its tension that she’s relieved, at least in part, to be home with you. The intensity of her focus is always the same, whether it falls on one of her experiments, or on you, —the one who waits so patiently for her to come back. There’s a warmth in her eyes when she looks at you that she seldom shows with others, and it leaves you weak in the knees. Although Moira isn’t keen on the over-the-top reunion sort of greeting, she’ll welcome you into her arms once the two of you are alone, and she’ll have no problem kissing you deeply, if only to remind you that she truly does love you, even if saying it isn’t her strongest suit.

＃ TRACER (LENA) !! ♡

Lena doesn’t waste a single moment from the second her two feet hit the ground. Any thoughts of a relaxing cup of warm tea or a hot shower to soothe the lingering aches are drowned out entirely by her tunnel visioned desire to see and hold you as soon as humanly possible. She’s been thinking of you the entire time, especially so since she began the journey back home, every inch of her just thrumming with excitement. The instant she sees your face, she meets your gaze with a wide, happy smile and dashes over, arms wide open to wrap them around your frame. She showers your face in a cascade of peppered kisses, hoping they might get her point across better than murmuring “I missed you” a thousand times over ever could. You giggle at the display, and she keens at the sound, —it’s like a long overdue melody that soothes all the bruises littering her skin. It’s all too easy to get lost in the togetherness, and Lena practically melts at the feeling your lips pressed against her own in an ardent kiss. Sure, she loves her job. She loves helping people, loves saving the day, —loves being a hero for those who need it. But at the end of all things, she knows the fulfillment of going on missions will fade one day, and when she’s left only with the bliss of savoring your lips on hers. . . Well, she thinks she’ll be just fine.

＃ SOMBRA (OLIVIA) !! ♡

For all the things she is, Olivia has never been particularly sentimental. She plays life fast and loose, taking risks that no one else will, —and sometimes it’s just for the sake of it. Still, she comes back and it’s like she left a little part of herself in your hands the entire time, hoping you’d keep it safe and secure. Though she teases you for tearing up or openly admitting that you missed her, there’s always an unspoken admission that she feels the same way, even if she’s a little too proud to say it. She isn’t too proud, however, to hold you close, —tightly enough to convey all the feelings she bottles up to keep herself from looking like a fool, stumbling over pathetic attempts at confessions of love. It’s easier this way, when you take her playful ribbings for what they are: a love language within themselves. It’s easier when she doesn’t have to bare her soul and strip herself apart for you to believe that she cares. She’ll jest with you about how smitten you are, never losing that nonchalant facade; but in between the lines is a warmth unlike any other. A love like hers really seems to transcend the need for explicit declarations of infatuation, so even when she doesn’t lay overt affection on thick enough for you to drown in, you never doubt that you’ll always be the first to know when she arrives back home.

＃ ASHE !! ♡

When she’s certain that all of her ducks are in a row, Ashe doesn’t mind letting you fawn over her a bit behind closed doors. If you were anyone else, she’d be halfway to biting your head off the moment you smooth your hands over her shoulders, asking if she’s hurt, —if things went well, if she needs anything from you now that she’s back. . . But you aren’t just anyone, and she’s begrudgingly accepted how much she cares for you, even on her worst days. She never goes into much detail about what happens while she’s away. That’s for her to know and you to stop thinking about, but she’ll offer little tidbits every now and again, and she’ll talk to you in that smooth, southern accent that drips just like molasses until she grows tired of the monotony of conversation and shuts you up with her mouth on yours. Words become obsolete, and the warmth of her lips speaks volumes that even prose never could. The unspoken parts of her endeavors might remain locked away, but the sweetness of her affection is an open book. As far as she’s concerned, letting you sit on her lap is proof enough that she’s just fine, and you’ll get the hint sooner or later. You’re a clever one, after all. Above all else, Ashe isn’t keen on living in the past. When things happen, the pieces fall where they may, and she’s long since decided that it’s better to just move forward, closure or not. Needless to say, she’s found that a little make out session never hurts to push the progress onward in that regard, so you can keep her company for a bit before she returns to her typical position, and she’s always sure to make it worth your while.

[cookie-crumblr]

What would happen if Darling showed a little jealousy towards the girls who flirt with Ezra?

Oh my goodness! i am so sorry covid kicked my butt and i’m still not better lol, but anonie ily, idk if you’re the same nonnie that’s been sending all or at least most of the ezra asks, but i am working on them all!!! i promise i just haven’t even touched this app in DAYS. T.T

anyway, Minors DNI as always 🥰 plz and ty

CW: GN/READER, no body or genitalia descriptions for reader (other than hole lol), kissing, biting, sex in whatever hole you have luv u bb, creampie, indecent exposure, public sex, ditching the body type beat

Status: Not Dating (but close to it)

You stab your pencil into the knot in the wood of your table. It’s so hard to listen to your professor next to Ezra. Today’s a little different though…

“Ezraaaaa~” a gorgeous peer touches his arm, and fawns over him. He’s watching you with some weirdly satisfied expression on his face. You roll your eyes at him. He chuckles back and your brows furrow ferociously. What? did he just— “When are you gonna come back over? we’re having a party this weekend…”

Now a few guys are walking up and one of them pushes another forward, He sputters for a sec before speaking up “H-hey Ezra! um, wanna go out this weekend again?”

“Oh my gods, can I please just focus!? leave him alone! the professor is literally speaking!” The pencil snaps, half of it stuck graphite first in that same wooden knot. It’s been ground a little deeper than it was earlier.

“Ew. You can always—” The gorgeous one starts, before Ezra cuts her off.

“Nah they’re right. This is boring as shit.” He leans over to your ear, “‘sides, I like you mad,” He’s wearing a beaming grin as he pulls back.

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you outside, the professor doesn’t spare either of you a glance.

As soon as you’re out in the hallway, his raw strength is forcefully slamming you into the lockers, rattling the metal doors.

“Ezra??” You never see him this passionate or nice? Sure he’s still rough, but he isn’t hurting you.

He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. “Owch,” One of the latches is digging in your back, you laugh a little “sorry, my back”

He moves you both down an inch or two, his lips crashing onto yours before he pulls away to take in the sight of you.

“Why do you make me feel this way…?” It’s like he didn’t mean to say that… You feel like you’ve seen something you almost… Shouldn’t have? You look down and away. “No. Look at me.” He pulls you back roughly with his hand on your jaw.

“Fuck, Ezra…. I don’t know… Maybe you shouldn’t” You choose your next words as carefully as you can. “have been so mean. Prolly feelin guilty or somethin’”

“That too.” His lips assault your neck now, teeth biting and air puffing against you. Your body is a whirlwind of sensation.

“too?”

He either doesn’t hear you or just doesn’t answer.

Your arms are locked around his neck but your fingers tingle with yearning. Youdecide to trust him with your weight and let go in favor of tracing his muscled arms. You both sigh into eachother. The Ozone and forest scent of him comes through and fill your senses once again.

Even the smell of smoke is starting to welcome you back. You don’t let yourself think twice. You deserve some feel good sex after everything he’s done to you. He owes you. “Yeah.”

“What?” He pulls back with glistening lips to inspect you his expression quizzical but still smiling.

“You owe me. a lot. actually.”

“Oh? hah! fine whatever. now open up.”

You push your crotch against his bulge harder, “I have been, just waiting for you.”

“Fuck, good” He pats your head affectionately. His hand falls down your face almost… Lovingly.

You try and shove those fluttery feelings down. This is Ezra after all.

Once inside he’s bouncing you desperately on his thick pulsing cock. His hands are wrapped around your throat getting you so close to blacking out it hurts. You try to tap out but he continues pounding furiously into you.

You deliciously sloppy hole stretches around his width perfectly. His grunts fill your fading and popping hearing.

“F-f-ff” you can’t speak at all. Finally you feel him shuddering and filling you with his thick streaming cum.

He drops you.

You slump unceremoniously down onto the smooth waxed floor. Cum leaks out of your still exposed hole.

You have to catch your breath, and while you are indisposed you see the flash of Ezra’s phone camera. Then he leaves you there. His walk a satisfied swagger down the hall away from the classroom and toward the front doors.

Asshole.

[starsurfacemortalkombat]

Haii me again, idk if your okay with people requesting more than once but if your not then just ignore this. But I was wondering if you could make some like baby regressor!smoke(specifically mk1) headcanons please and ty? -🐯

I love request!!! Make as many as you want!!! :D

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Babyspace Regressor Tomas Vrbada Hcs

💨 I can see Tomas regressing from about 1-4, and a puppy regressor

💨 But rn we're going to focus on his baby headspace

💨 Either he gets this small after a long day of work and training, or because of flashbacks and nightmares

💨 Unfortunately, when it is because of flashbacks or nightmares, he'll start quietly sobbing in either his bed or his little hiding place

💨 Normally he's mastered the skill of staying silent while crying, but when his brain feels all fuzzy, he can't help but sob loudly

💨 Whether it's you or Kuai Liang, someone will eventually find him and the rest of the day is extremely soft and comforting

💨 Clingy cuddles, soft voices, small promises, his grip on your finger is so tight it feels like it's gonna break (lovingly, of course)

💨 When he doesn't slip because of bad bad memories or thoughts, he's actually a very giggly happy baby

💨 Happily waving whatever toys he owns, excitedly showing them to you so you can see!!

💨 A biter, you better watch for your fingers

💨 Would be overjoyed if you got him or of those teething baby rings

💨 Wiggles them in your face before using it, just so that you know he's using it :]

💨 ^ If he's having a bad bad baby time, he'll want his paci though so he can focus more on breathing

💨 Tomas feels like a very soft regressor, especially when he feels little little

💨 He doesn't like being yelled at or having any type of stern voices, especially when he's just a baby

💨 He'll look at you all confused and maybe even a little scared, why are you yelling at him? He doesn't understand, had he been naughty? 🥺

💨 You've gotta use really gentle parenting when he's this small

💨 He's not prone to getting in trouble, but sometimes the crayon he was using will drift onto the floor (not his fault, he just wanted to color with Kuai Liang!!)

💨 Back into teething, anything in his hands will end up in his mouth

💨 This is fine if it's a stuffie or his own fingers, because he doesn't bite extremely hard (if he does it's an accident and he'll try to babble apologize, especially if it was your hand)

💨 But if it's a crayon or something dangerous, you gotta make sure his face and hands don't get close together

💨 A copier, if someone's doing something, he'll try to intimidate it

💨 (^ Like those babies that when they see their Dad's flex and yell, they'll put their arms out and shout)

💨 But like, if Kuai Liang is coloring, Tomas wants to color (he just kinda makes two really weird circles on the paper and shows you it proudly, coloring hard man, you gotta keep the crayon straight up :(

💨 Or if Bi-Han pouting, Tomas will cross his arms and pout too (which will only prompt Bi-Han to get even fussier and claim Tomas is copying him on purpose)

💨 Adores soft textures, especially blankies or stuffies

💨 Has a blankie that he carries around but also kinda expects you to carry it (he's a baby, how is he supposed to hold it up? >:(

💨 A crawler, but a silent one

💨 Will crawl away because he saw something pretty across the room and you might not even notice

💨 Don't worry, he'll excitedly wave you over and babble about this cool thing he found! (If it's dangerous please take it away, even if he whines and fusses over it)

💨 It's very easy to make gim happy if he gets fussy, he's a baby with very simple needs

💨 (^ Most of those needs are just cuddles and your undying attention, although candy wouldn't hurt either)

💨 Really likes using baby bottles and the one (and only) time Bi-Han even tried to tease him over it, he cried for two hours straight

💨 (^ Bi-Han apologized btw, he can be really mean sometimes but he won't go as far as to make fun of his brother's comfort items) (especially when he has his own, but that's a topic for another day)

💨 The most people who watch him when he's this tiny is probably Kuai Liang (Bi-Han will too, but he doesn't wanna be mean by accident, and he knows his brother's really fragile in this specific headspace)

💨 (^ Smokencage shipper, Johnny and Kenshi absolutely adore this headspace but have only really seen it once and Tomas really just kinda hide in Kuai Liang's neck the entire time, he felt shy)

💨 Favorite little nicknames are Smokey, Sweetie, Baby Boy, Little Guy, Squirt

💨 Oh my gosh please swaddle him!!! His blankies big enough, please? 🥺

💨 He's a pretty big guy, being 6’ something, but he forgets a lot when he's this tiny

💨 So you might have him plop onto your lap and start cuddling up to you (like those big lap dogs)

💨 Is usually a really wiggly and giggly when he's feeling happier

💨 Whether it's tummy time and he gets to lay on his tummy and wiggle like a worm

💨 Or giggle because you keep hiding under the blankie and playing peek-a-boo with him

💨 But after hard, long, stressful days, he can be a very sleepy baby

💨 Bedtime is super easy, just bottle feed him and cocoon wrap him and he'll be out like a light, very little argument when it comes to naptime

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Stop, he's actually one of my favorites <3

Y'all his hair so so shiny in MK9, it's funny

[characteroulette]

Why I ship Snufpollo (and you can, too!)

So I have been writing this strange crossover ship like a dog running out of time. Why is that? Hopefully, this manifesto can explain my vision when it comes to these two characters.

First of all, who are these guys?

Snufpollo is my portmanteau of Snufkin, from the Moomins series, and Apollo Justice, from the Ace Attorney series. Snufkin is a seasonal traveller, spending three out of four seasons with his beloved friend, and Apollo is a lawyer dealing with, frankly, far too much bullshit.

You'd think they'd be incompatible from their professions alone. Snufkin is, after all, some flavour of illegal in most depictions of him, owing to his grudge against the Park Keeper. But Apollo has a talent for dealing with wild rebels, being raised by them as a child and all. So the two fit together better than you'd expect.

It really helps that they're very much similar characters. I was thinking of the song Lemon Boy by Cavetown, a shoe-in for Snufkin (he's name dropped in the song!!), but realised it worked well for Apollo also. And mashing those two thoughts together led me to make connections between them, which then led me to write a fic where Snufkin is Apollo's childhood friend, and from there it very much spiraled out of control.

How can they be alike?

Apollo and Snufkin are two sides of the same coin. Apollo is Heads, Snufkin is Tails. They're both guarded and snarky, orphans who were abandoned who make the most of their lives, and truly desire to help others. Their differences make them easy to pair up as well; Apollo is put-upon by his protagonist status and not afraid to show it, Snufkin tries to keep his tone light despite being just as upset at being the focus. Both of them express their trauma in similar but vastly different ways, Apollo moving past it bitterly and Snufkin moving past it without thinking too hard on it. When they have so much to discuss with one another and clash over (this fear of abandonment tying them together can make them butt heads in the best and worst ways), it's very easy for me to plop them both down into a situation and let their dynamic guide me through the scene.

But, really, Verse said it best: Apollo is a coconut and Snufkin is a peach.

Apollo has a multitude of walls and barbs keeping others from his soft and sweet insides. He seems like a hard nut to crack, and he will be if you go at him willy-nilly. But he's also easy to give in when you hit the right points. He's incredibly vulnerable on the inside and does his best to coat over it, to guard his soft heart, because of everything that has happened to him in his life. He's outwardly brash and rude, but he's genuinely interested in solving cases and helping others. He'll moan and complain about it being a bother the whole time, but he won't abandon others who need his help. He will straight leave if he's not having a good time or doesn't want to be there. Once you start looking for that hard exterior and soft centre, it's easy to see how his mind operates and what sorts of actions he'll take.

Snufkin, meanwhile, is outwardly soft and disarming. He seems far more approachable than his counterpart, seems amicable and easy to get along with, even. This is, of course, a complete farce. He is holding everyone at an unfathomable distance so you cannot even come close to seeing his true self. You can think you know him, since he is soft and friendly on the outside. But there's a high chance you'll never get close enough to see even a glimpse of his true face. The closer you try to get, the more his hardness reveals itself to you. The more you get nicked and stabbed by his barbs and venom crafted carefully to hide his centre. He will fight you every step of the way, taking precautions such as running when it gets to be too much or being the one to bite first to make you back off. As friendly and polite as he can be on the outside, he keeps his true vulnerabilities closer to his chest and hidden beneath a mountain's worth of defences so you will never see a fraction of the true him.

This dynamic, so similar and yet fundamentally different, makes them so fun and fascinating to place together. Especially when taking into consideration my final point which cemented their dynamic to me.

Snufkin is Apollo's Clay Terran (childhood friend whom he is so attached to that he will go feral if anything happened to him) and Apollo is Snufkin's Moomintroll (childhood friend whom Snufkin returns to see every Spring and leaves every Winter).

What does this mean??

Well, to put it simply: I see Snufkin as fulfilling similar if not the same roles for him that Clay Terran does, while also seeing Apollo as filling the same roles for Snufkin that Moomintroll does.

Snufkin is the one who is going to leave Apollo (/has been leaving Apollo). Snufkin is the wanderer who, on first appearance, has his heart set somewhere far beyond the cosmos. He's someone who can help temper Apollo's abandonment issues, but never really resolve them. He's suffered the same as Apollo (no parents, a troublesome and unwanted orphan, desiring independence and self-sufficiency above all else) and therefore can be a sympathetic hand, an empathetic shoulder. He can pull Apollo out of his comfort zone, being wild and free and prone to adventure, as well as be an emotional drain on their shared heart. He has to leave to be on his own, Apollo knows this, yet it never truly stops hurting. It never truly stops being a fear that he'll leave for good and never return.

Meanwhile, Apollo is Snufkin's anchor point. Apollo is the one he returns to every Spring, whether he wants to or not. Apollo is his heart, his whole reason for sticking around as long as he does. Apollo is the reasons he acts polite and friendly as he does, for Apollo's love of the world and want to do good pushes Snufkin to mimic that behaviour. Apollo is the embodiment of the joy of Spring, the heat of Summer, the melancholy of Autumn, and the solitude of Winter. The world is a vibrant and lovely place, but it means nothing to Snufkin if he can't return to his friend. Apollo is the embodiment of yearning, of everything left unsaid in Snufkin's breast. He is a home, a place to put roots, and Snufkin hates that more than anything despite being unable to cut himself free. Apollo is both freedom in its absolute form and shackles which deny Snufkin any form of freedom. He is someone whom Snufkin would defend to his last breath, yet he also continually chooses to leave every Winter in spite of this.

Hopefully, this explains a fraction of how insane I am about this dynamic haha. They have really become everything to me and I will keep shouting about it from the tops of the mountains because I love them so.

Wait, so the appeal is just the same as Claypollo or Snufmin?

No, not even slightly. Haven't you been listening.

More seriously, there are definitely similarities there that I've built up. Clay and Apollo are practically the same character because Clay canonically has like three traits and all of them relate to Apollo in some way. (The fact that you have to build Clay's character yourself really doesn't help.) Snufkin and Moomintroll are THE classic yearning forever and pining purgatory duo. But the devil is in the details, just the same as it is when it comes to differentiating Snufkin and Apollo themselves.

Apollo has more teeth and anger than Moomintroll usually does. Snufkin is colder and more of a fully formed character than Clay could ever be. Apollo and Snufkin's friendship gets to start when Apollo gets abandoned, meaning they get both the childhood mischief and innocence as well as the adulthood pining and messiness. It's the best of both worlds with so much more to explore and dig into. At least, I've worked very hard to build it up as such.

There is so much I can do with their dynamic, from disagreements where their barbs rub too hard against one another to the softness of their love for one another. Sure, Clay has the advantage of being written as a fridge for Apollo to go insane, but I can easily twist that towards Snufkin. Sure, Moomintroll has the advantage of being the sweetest guy around whom I adore whole-heartedly, but I can lay on the pining and parallels so much thicker when it comes to Apollo. It helps that they're two of my favourite characters, bar none, also.

So what is their dynamic, exactly?

Here's a tl;dr for ya, since you're so insistent:

Snarky, reluctant protag Apollo Justice gets to have his seasonal, wandering friend whom he is very unwilling to talk about because he is a private person. Barbed but pleasant Snufkin gets to have his anchor point whom he is pining ridiculously over but is unwilling to break past that barrier of friendship and so will just devote himself to his sunshine dragon despite also wanting to tear himself from this tie. They're easily seen as being similar to one another, from their penchant for leaving situations they want no part in and their guarded handling of others, but their differences make them come together in softness and in clashes in equal measures.

Anyway, recc time. Because I have written like 30+ fics of these two and have made my argument in those as well.

Lemon Boy is the very first! And while also technically not Snufpollo (it is Klapollo ultimately), it does showcase them coming together in their childhood. (For more on that, see Savoury and Bittersweet.) This one also continues in The Tramp and the Sun!

For a more focused Snufpollo experience, I've got A Tune of Sunshine as well as Hand in Hand, Your Heart in Mine! Both small little fluff pieces where these two see another again in the Spring.

And then for my money, You Cannot Possess the Sun is the best unhinged Snufkin I have ever written. Take that as you will.

Anyway, thanks so much for reading about my silly crackship!! Glauxspeed to y'all!!

[hwangjins00]

Johnny Lawrence and the self-fulfilling prophecy

so i've been thinking about this for a while and also because s6p1 just came out but i think that johnny is one of the best examples of a self-fulfilling prophecy in ck.

SO we've seen multiple times that johnny's been told he ruins people, by danial, robby, shannon, and carmen, even terry. And i'm not gonna disregard his actions, i agree that he has done a lot of stuff that negatively affected himself and those around him, not limited to becoming a functioning alcoholic, teaching kids aggression, drunk fights, being an absentee father, etc

BUT we also see him try a lot of times to get his act together and do better for the people around him, such as teaching miguel mercy, cleaning up his apartment and trying to limit drinking for carmen, and trying to get along with daniel for the sake of his students, but he's still criticized even for trying his best, the only character to consistently have been on his side through his highs and lows has been miguel.

out of all the characters the one who refuses to see johnny's change the most is probably daniel, and this is NOT a daniel hate post, i love daniel and he's one of my favourite kk and ck characters but that doesn't disregard the fact that he tends to have knee-jerk reactions and gets unbalanced easily when it comes to johnny. A lot of the characterization in the show can be attributed to writing choices but i'm going to try my best to not make that my main focus.

alright lets start!

when johnny first opens up his dojo its partly because of the anger he feels towards daniel for succeeding in life but mainly because he doesn't want miguel to keep getting beat on and miguel probably reminds him of himself before he met kreese. Daniel is the one to come to johnny and tell him to close cobra kai and this is completely valid seeing as how daniel's experiences with cobra kai were in his youth, however its also been 30 years and its reasonable to assume that johnny isnt still a high school bully. He tells miguel that if he doesnt leave the dojo he'll end up 'just like' johnny. Right off the bat we have someone insinuating that johnny is a terrible role model. Then when daniel starts training robby and discovers robby's homelife he goes to talk to johnny just to immediately turn on him the second he sees kreese, he doesn't talk to johnny to clear up the situation and he doesn't tell him about his son, and yes johnny has been a shitty dad but he deserves to know that his kid is going to be living with someone else (i honestly thought it was crazy that daniel never mentioned that he had johnny's SON IN HIS HOUSE??)

when robby takes sam to johnny's apartment when she was drunk daniel literally kicked down his door and got into a physical fight with johnny because he couldn't believe that johnny was being considered a safe space for his son to bring his crush to in order to sober up and wouldn't listen to johnny rationally asking him to calm down. and S6 SPOILERS but i think that out of the two of them johnny was trying much harder to be accomodating to daniel, he gave up the name cobra kai and eagle fang for miyagi do, worked kata into his teaching and geniunely tried to not be so hard headed and quick to fight. He tried to get a job (daniel making him switch from using karate as a job was honestly crazy, that was literally how he was paying bills and putting food on the table, johnny asking to be paid for his time and effort wasnt an insane ask especially considering that daniel owns multiple dealerships and chozen comes from a rich family as well, johnny is the only one that actually needed the dojo as a way to make money) and just overall be there, im not saying hes a great dad right away but its obvious that he's trying to be there for both miguel and robby without making either one of the boys feeling forgotten. (ex, telling them both he's proud win or lose, tying robby's headband, listening to miguel's college essay)

HOWEVER, it seems that no matter what he does, johnny is almost never seen positively by anyone other than miguel and devon. daniel switches up on him instantly (he drops people at the first sight of their flaws, as soon as johnny takes even a single step backwards instead of acting rationally and looking at the situation + offering support he tells johnny he'll never change and drops him immediately, he did the same thing with robby and doing that to a teenager dependent on you for food and shelter is honestly crazy), carmen has been pretty much sidelined due to the baby (i have THOUGHTS on this), kreese is his only supporter and he was literally tripping balls and snapped hallucination johnny's neck like a stale breadstick so johnny doesnt really have much in the way of a good support system

now for those that have somehow stuck around lol lets get to the actual point (i realized here that i literally just blabbed for so long without making my point lmfao)

a self-fulfilling prophecy is essentially: you become what you are told. if i told you everyday that you will never amount to more than what you are right now, ive 'prophesied' your future and to self-fulfil it you would just stop trying because you know that nothing you do will ever change my mind.

in a similar vein i believe that deep down johnny DOES believe that no matter what he does or how hard he tries he'll never be able to move past the image of him thats already been made up in peoples minds (society for all it talks about rehabilitation does not tend to actually support those who want to rehabilitate- more thoughts below) and so he goes through a constant cycle of disappointing those around him again and again because no one believes he can be any better and he's internalized that, i honestly have soo many thoughts about johnny's character in kk1 and ck and i would love to chat with anyone interested about it

re: society and rehab

so people talk the good talk about how rehabilitation is important and necessary, in the show daniel is able to form good friendships with both chozen and mike who were arguably much worse than johnny was to him (chozen fought in a literal DEATH MATCH against him and mike harassed him, dangled him off a cliff, forced him to compete in a rigged match where he pretty much just whaled on him on the mat), why was daniel able to forgive these guys but not johnny? my theory is that its because to him chozen and mike have their lives together and have also properly apologized for their actions (JJ&H im still waiting on that johnny apology where we address the 'you're alright larusso' line) meanwhile johnny has obviously gone downhill since HS, but daniel never takes his attempts to get it together seriously and along with a lot of the toxic ideals put into him by kreese, johnny doesn't take his rehabilitation seriously either, he can't afford rehab for his alcohol dependency (plus rehab isnt viewed positively by him either) and he doesnt have a very steady support system so that makes it even more difficult. unlike daniel he's never had a positive father figure in his life which makes it difficult for him to act as a father without fear of becoming kreese, i just wish that the show would take johnny's journey to becoming the man he wants more seriously

[thetorturerwrites]

Lylas

Summ: Adam Sackler was never one for beating around the bush, but this level of blunt was beyond comprehension - even for him.

Notes: Purely self-indulgent filth. There will probably be other parts to this because I cannot get it out of my head, but I have no set time frame for it. Also, I do not apologize for the extraneous world-building in my smut. That's just how I roll... (Also also, some of this might be in response to the fact that not everything has to be squirting...)

~

“You should let me fuck you.”

The cavalier way he said such a bizarre thing made you short circuit. Astonished, you stopped mid-shoelace-tie and stared up at him. Adam Sackler was never one for beating around the bush, but this level of blunt was beyond comprehension - even for him.

“What?! Why?”

He grinned down at you because, with you right there on the ottoman, you sat eye level with his dick. With that cheshire grin turned on you, you unexpectedly forgot how to breathe. You’d never looked at Adam that way before, but with one question, he upended your world view. Adam was lethally beautiful, and he knew it. Shaggy black hair swept back and forth over his dark eyes to match his moods - off to the right for mischievous, low over the brow for brooding. It was easy to admit he was a looker, but you’d never considered him to be anything beyond that. A big, glaring red flag permanently hung over his head since the day he walked into your house. Now, though…

He certainly watched, and enjoyed, the struggle going on in your mind and not-so-casually slid both hands smoothly, purposefully into the pockets of those well-worn, low slung, faded blue jeans and leaned his hips forward at you. Of course you looked. Who wouldn’t? Catching yourself, you forced your eyes up to his green t-shirt, but that wasn’t much help because it fit him offensively well. Painted on would be an understatement. Adam was all wide shoulders and shelf-like pecs, and suddenly, you understood his sex appeal. Forcing your face into a placid mask, you waved him off and bent to finish tying your damn shoe. Time to get the fuck out of this room.

You forgot, however, that you’d asked him a question.

“One, you bring home shitty dudes. Two, I don’t want to date. After that last bullshit…”

The last bullshit being the most recent round of Hannah and Jessa, both idiot girls who ran roughshod over Adam and his tender heart. On more than one occasion, you’d seen fit to murder one right after the other, but nobody could tell Adam anything. He was a right pain in the ass and a whole pervert, but he was also kind and doting, a thing those two heifers took advantage of too often. He was also stubborn to a fault, and when he believed a thing, or when he wanted something, he would pursue it 100%. He’d believed in them, but even he had to admit they were trash in the end.

“... this would be the perfect solution.” You realized he’d not stopped talking while you took that mental break, and you struggled to focus. “One stop shop.”

Shoe finally situated, you stood, pretending not to be acutely aware of the way he watched you smooth the wrinkles from your plum blouse and rub the wrinkles out of the thighs of your pants. Masquerading as confident, you jabbed at the air between you.

“First? Rude.” Although, internally you admitted you brought home shitty dudes. They never seemed shitty until they walked out the door, leaving you unsatisfied and annoyed. All dudes were shitty, though, weren’t they? There was no earthly reason to believe Adam was any better despite how much he believed himself superior.

“Second? Jim and Carly would shit kittens.”

Jim and Carly were your parents - his mom and your dad, specifically. They met in Tahoe on a Friday and were married by the following Sunday. Secretly, you believed Carly was in it for the money because Jim was - no two ways about it - loaded, but she genuinely seemed to love your dad. After all the heartache he’d endured, you found you couldn’t begrudge him that happiness, even if it made your teeth itch. In a blur, the Sacklers moved into Jim’s mansion on the hill, filling it with more noise than either of you could remember. With internships, college, and the damn economy, it made sense for everyone to live at home; so, you all had to learn to live together.

Well, sort of. Jim and Carly never stayed home long enough to get used to anybody, really. Jetsetters, they called themselves, which left the rest of the household free rein.

At the mention of your part-time parents, Adam took a step forward, brow piqued, lips pursed.

“You in the habit of sharing all the naughty details about your love life with dear old daddy, baby sister?”

He only called you that when he wanted to rile you up or when he wanted something - both true in this case.

“Me?” You laughed, a full-on, hold your belly laugh. “Ha! You’re not exactly shy about the vast number of “dirty sluts” (you even treated him to finger quotes) you’ve found in the area, Sackler. You don’t need to tell us anything about your love life, you shit, because everybody already knows!”

Wiping delighted tears from your eyes, you shook your head. It really was too absurd.

“No, this is… too weird, and not for nothing, it's kind of creepy. I promise you’ll find shiny new sluts to fuck just around the corner at what’s-her-face’s block party. But please, wait five minutes so I can vacate the premises before you do whatever it is you do.”

~

Adam loved it when you laughed. He spent an inordinate amount of time trying to make you laugh because your eyes sparkled in such a pretty way, and your face softened all over. To put it plainly, you lit up from the inside. After Hannah’s crazy and Jessa’s perpetual moodiness, he simply enjoyed watching you laugh because it was easy to get you to do it. Easygoing and whip smart, he found he enjoyed the mental sparring with you because you could keep up, and you weren’t so fucking dramatic. 

That started everything.

Soon enough, he couldn’t get you - or your laugh - out of his head. Finding out about all the other faces and noises you made infected his brain. Now, when you laughed, his eyes trailed away from your face to the rest of your body because he wanted to see the effect of that laugh all over you. The bob of your breasts when he got you particularly good, the way you often held your waist and huffed at him, drawing attention to your generous hips - the details of you affected him far more than they should have and made him want to affect you just as much. 

If he was completely honest, he didn’t give a single shit if Jim or Carly ever found out. He was pretty sure he still wouldn’t give a shit if your relationship was by blood rather than marriage. He was going to fuck you. It was only a matter of time.

“Those are good reasons, baby sister, but that’s not a no…”

~

The problem was that Adam was right.

“Hey, uh..” The shitty dude you’d escorted to your front door turned at the threshold, beet red and stammering. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

You didn’t even remember his name.

“Sure. Yeah. Whenever?”

Probably more abruptly than you should have, you shut the door in his face and then let your forehead fall against it with a loud thud. You threw your fists in the air, irritated and crabby. Meeting him was nice. The party was pleasant; the wine flowed freely. His kisses tasted like candy, and the way he nibbled your neck was delightful.

After the banter, the ride home, and the bourbon, however, Rick… Robin?... Roger? Yes, Roger was all talk and no substance. His bed-game was decidedly lacking. All he’d accomplished was a nice warm-up, whiskey dick, and no grand finale for you. 

“It's. -thunk- Not. -thunk- That. -thunk- Hard!”

“Whatcha’up to, kid?”

You shrieked, jumped a foot off the floor, and spun with fists raised to knock the threat out, in theory at least.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sackler. You scared the shit out of me.”

Rubbing at your sternum to calm the racing of your heart, you slumped back against the door. You concentrated so hard on regulating your breathing that you didn’t hear him shuffle closer. Nor did you notice him leaning over you, his thick left arm braced on the door above your head, until his crooked index finger lifted your chin. Only then did the alarm bells ring because damn that was a sexy move. And Christ on a cracker he smelled good - salt from the ocean blended with caramel spice. It made your mouth water. 

“Feel like now’s the time for I told you so,” he quipped, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Tell you what…” The arm that was overhead slithered over your torso, settling a good bit of his weight across your shoulders. “I’ll do this, and you can tell people I forced you.”

He winked, and a second later, his warm hand slid into your DIY sleep shorts. You’d worn the ugly cut-off sweatpants pair to dissuade your date from lingering. Now, you wished you’d found an actual pair of pants because the shorts only gave away how traitorous your cunt was. Skillfully, Adam’s middle finger found the groove between your tacky labia, using the residual (barely) slickness from your failed attempt at sexy times with… Rufus? Ryan? Regardless of his name, his touches were clumsy compared to this. Adam kept an even pace and the exact right amount of pressure, sliding in the perfect way to coerce more wetness from your entrance and carry it back to your swollen clit.

You croaked, straight up sounded like you swallowed a frog because as his fingers defiled you south of the border, his stare wrecked you up north. His beautiful brown eyes were whiskey warm tonight, softened at the edges but intently focused upon you. You could get drunk on those kinds of eyes. If he gazed at all his conquests like this - as though nothing else mattered - you understood the pull. It moved, his stare, from your eyes to your mouth and back. You nearly begged him to kiss you but this was already so strange, so taboo. 

And yet… and yet…

~

He’d never been so fucking pleased to be right in his life.

All he had to do was get you there, and he’d win the argument. Roman, a guy he met on the track, was manufactured to be an idiot and would never figure out how to fuck right, even if his life hung in the balance. How he'd managed to even meet you was beyond understanding. 

Adam, however, had been fucking since he was 14, and he’d long since learned all the magic buttons. It was the one good thing to have come from his years struggling with sobriety. Replacing alcohol with sex taught him a lifetime’s worth of skills. Skills he now used to pull another squeak from your pouty mouth. Each time the pad of his finger caught your hood, the reluctant peep you made shot straight to his dick. He wasn’t sure if he would manage to not fuck you tonight, but he reminded himself that he had to play the long game.

For a solid 30 seconds, he rubbed only at your clit, back and forth, back and forth. He set a very specific rhythm that had you twisting beneath him deliciously. Your yelping grew louder and louder until one in particular cracked, and that was his cue.

“Hold my shoulder.” He nudged your nose with his to get your attention and nodded when both of your hands came up to rest on his chest and biceps. “That’s it.”

He couldn’t help himself from licking at the way your mouth popped open when he slid his fingers inside of you. The way the corners turned up was too tantalizing to ignore.

~

Mother Mary of God… He was inside you. Granted, it was only his fingers, but they belonged to your step-brother. Your face burned, but the hundred objections your brain conjured died at the back of your tongue because fuck, they were good. Two fingers, middle and ring, had you whining like a schoolgirl as he carefully, deliberately explored you. He wasn’t awkward about it like every other dude who’d been in your pants. He didn’t stab at your cunt as though he’d miraculously grown a jackhammer for a hand.

Nope. He took his time, slow and steady. He noted the angles and ridges that made you moan. And when he found that perfect spot, the spot that made you curse far louder than you intended, he stayed right there. There was no in and out anymore, no poking or prodding. Once he found it, his touch shifted from up/down and in/out to side to side. You came unfuckingglued. All ten fingers dug into hard flesh. You all but leapt into his arms as he rubbed at your tight bundle of electric nerves from the inside. And the more you responded, the faster he went.

“There’s nobody here, kid. Let’s hear it.”

You couldn’t have swallowed the cries for every dollar your dad invested in this huge-ass house. Your hips bucked against Adam’s expert manhandling, chasing that elusive sort of orgasm you can only get from someone else. Closer and closer it crept. Tighter and tighter you wound. From you knew not where, you found your voice, though it was scratchy and broken.

“D-don’t stop un-until I sh-sh-shake.”

His dark brow lifted, but he didn’t argue. It was a thing hardly anybody knew (because hardly anybody could fucking deliver), but a great orgasm, a really fantastic one, made you shake. Not tremble. Not wiggle. A full-body, clack your teeth kind of shake. On another day, you’d have been embarrassed to tell him that, but you watched determination change his face from amused and entertained to keenly interested. His efforts inside your cunt multiplied until you went rigid. He wanted to see it, clearly, but more than that, you wanted it, salivated for it. Right here on the cusp, you didn’t care that it would happen at his hands.

With your head tipped back, eyes screwed shut, and mouth agape, that hot-wet bud of ecstasy finally bloomed, and you wailed. It was electric, shooting sparks into your fingertips, but somehow, in the very middle of it, both of your hands wrapped around his wrist on the off chance he’d stop right at the best part, which they all did, but Adam only chuckled and carried right on fucking you stupid with nothing but two fingers.

Vulgar sounds squelched out around his fingers to accompany the vulgar things he whispered in your ear. Dirty girl with your pants around your ankles. Are you always this easy? Who’s the best big brother ever? Your pussy gushed; your ears rang. You rode his fingers like a champion, reveling in the quake and the rag-doll rattling of your insides.

The whole thing was indecent, fit for film, really.

~

Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. You cannot fuck her tonight. Do not fuck this up.

Long game. Long game. Long game.

You fell back against the door, wincing when he extricated his fingers. He wanted to wrap himself around you and keep pushing, but he held back. This was a delicate operation, and straying too much to either side would fuck it all up. You’d either blow up at him and feel like he actually assaulted you, or you’d never speak to him again. Neither was a winning scenario. Tamping down his near-manic need to taste you, he gently traced your lips with his gummy fingers until you opened your eyes.

“That was some show, kid.”

Confusion crinkled the corners of your eyes, and he nuzzled your chin, matching the fire in your cheek with his own. He understood. His proposal wasn’t normal, and how much you’d obviously enjoyed it probably had you all up in your feelings. Hovering his mouth above yours, so close he could feel your breath, he fought himself over whether you needed to be kissed.

But when you lifted ever so slightly onto your toes, seeking it out, he clenched his jaw hard and fought the urge to fuck you right here on the floor. Somehow, he kept his shit together, and he thought certainly he deserved a goddamn medal for valor. He pushed away and veered you towards the stairs.

“Time to go, little sister. It’s past your bedtime.”

~

For a week, Adam cornered you at least once a day to stuff your pussy full of his thick fingers and make you beg. After that first time, he knew exactly how to play you, and he delighted in drawing it out until you pleaded for him to make you cum. You’d mistakenly said his name during your second encounter, and now, he wouldn’t come anywhere near the things that made you shake without hearing it.

You never considered yourself the begging type, but it turns out that when someone knows precisely the way to touch you and the exact right way to make you scream as you climax, begging becomes much more palatable. It also turns out that whether Jim and Carly were home didn’t make a single bit of difference because when Adam texted you his offer from across the kitchen table, you ran after him like the house was on fire.

That’s how you wound up here, sitting on the edge of Adam’s desk, naked as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely wide and panties crammed in your mouth to keep you muffled if not quiet. With one hand deftly driving into your messy cunt and one wrapped around your hip to coax it into a rocking motion, he all but pulverized your sanity. Up was down, left was right, and “brother” was just another fucking word. As you inched higher and higher up climax mountain, you rationalized you weren’t really doing anything wrong. He’d never fucked you in any other way than this. He wasn’t a real brother, either. There was nothing wrong with a little fun, right? Sure, it was strange, but when he… fuck when he hit that spot right… right there… your brain went…

“You should let me fuck you,” he murmured against your throat, a throwback to what started all this.

It crackled in your prefrontal cortex, and you pushed at his bare chest, babbling incoherently because part of you thought it was the worst idea ever, and part of you thought it would be the best fucking thing in the history of ever. They argued with each other behind your eyes. That was too far. Wasn’t it? But it would feel so good. You couldn’t, possibly. Right? Sure, you could. Twice on Sunday, even. Surely, he had plenty of other options. Didn’t he? Who fucking cares?

“Just a little, kid. I’ve made it good for you, yeah? Just the tip.”

Your thoughts on the matter were irrelevant, it seemed, because the clink of his buckle launched you into a panic. You tried to escape his grip by leaning back, but he clenched his arm around your back, making escape impossible. Struggling to keep calm, you realized it felt ridiculous and performative to panic because you splayed across his desk like you were posing for his calendar. You gawked at him, eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite pin down because processing that your step-brother was about to put any part of his dick inside you was overwhelming. This was too much, too forbidden.

“Now, don’t look at me like that.” He rubbed soothing circles into your ribcage and stepped in. You felt the weight of a cock you’d never seen laying against your swollen pussy, eliciting a low groan. “Only for a minute. Stay right there; don’t move.”

And then, there it was. The round head of Adam’s cock slowly breached your body’s sticky barrier and scrambled your senses. Tears formed. Your chest heaved - because you wanted him to ravage you, to fuck you dumb and blind, but you just couldn’t. Right?

Maybe your inner monologue wasn’t so silent. Or maybe he read your mind. Something changed, though, from “just the tip” to an iron grip and his right hand over your gagged mouth as he snapped his hips and slid all the way home.

~

Adam expected you to shout, to have an outright tantrum and draw far too much attention to the situation. Instead, you shuddered against him the way you did when you came all over his fingers - not as hard but definitely unmistakable.

“That’s it. S’good cock, isn’t it? Told you you’d like it.”

Testing the waters, he withdrew about halfway and slowly pushed in again, absolutely loving the way you moaned in response. He’d nearly cum in his pants when you let him shove your panties into your mouth, and whenever he looked at you still gritting your teeth into them, his dick throbbed. With no firm objection, he unwound from his caging stance and took proper hold of your perfect, meaty ass. He scooted you closer to the edge of his desk, damn near falling off, so he could get his demanding dick inside you from tip to root right fucking now.

~

Adam’s cock was fat. There was no other way to describe it. He filled you up so completely you couldn’t even blink. The slide of his girth against your insides was dizzyingly good, and all you could do was cling to his shoulders.

And when he started talking? That dirty way with that sexy-ass voice?

It fucked you all the way up.

The things he said to you, too, differed from the things you’d heard him say to his hook-ups. They were filthy sluts, not even worthy to come over in the daylight, just a hole for him to get off to. You were his dirty little sister, though, weren’t you? Too cock-drunk to even say no to big brother. You loved his fat cock, didn’t you? You’d let him fuck you whenever he wanted, wouldn’t you?

You were positively, expertly, no two ways about it done for.

Like a dick-addled fool, you nodded along with all of it. You’d say whatever he wanted as long as he kept packing more and more of his missile cock into your aching cunt. Maybe that’s what you wanted - to be reduced to an object, a fuckdoll sister he’d turn inside out at his whim with no recourse to say no. When that idea took hold, you vibrated against him. You generally didn’t orgasm from penetration alone, but by sheer size, Adam rubbed at every single one of your spongy triggers with each stroke. Coupled with the downright pornographic thoughts in your fucked-out head, you whined like a petulant child, overcome by the effort it took to keep quiet, to keep yourself coherent.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Your eyes flew open, tracking the voice to its owner, who leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over a very familiar broad chest. You burned from ears to toes, knowing this looked exactly like what it was, and there was no pretending it was anything else. Even worse, your deviant fantasy abruptly shifted to include these extra details - wind-faded jeans, threadbare gray cotton shirt bleached by the sun, and a brush of red across a nose and cheekbones matching those you'd looked up at for days. He was a carbon copy of the man currently demolishing your boundaries by burying himself to the hilt in your body.

Ben, Adam’s twin, the wayward son, had finally home from his camping trip to the desert.

~

Adam nestled his face in your neck to hide his smugness. He knew his brother would be home today, and he timed everything around the fact Ben said he’d be here early afternoon. Edging you was a cake-walk. He’d been practicing all week, and when he saw the text asking if he needed anything from their favorite pizza place, he knew how much time he had to get you right and ready so Ben would find you well and truly empty-headed and sexed out. 

Ben wasn’t sold on having you. He half liked the idea, but he thought it was more trouble than it would be worth. More than once, though, Adam caught him lazily stroking himself while watching you run down the beach or sunbathe by the pool. It would only take a nudge to get his brother fully invested. Adam played the moment, and specifically you, perfectly, and holy shit if this wasn’t one for the books. You and your round eyes, searching for an explanation that would make sense of why he was balls deep in your tight cunt on a Saturday afternoon.

“Someone’s been a bad girl,” he said to his brother, licking a stripe across your thundering pulse. “What do you think, bad girl, wanna show Ben how you shake?”

~

You sobbed. There was nothing for it because Adam’s cock never stopped. His brother’s presence in the room didn’t faze him one bit, and it took a full minute for you to realize it was some of that twin bullshit you were always on them about. Of course they’d seen each other fucking. They probably fucked lots of people together. You bristled with humiliation because it was obvious Adam set this up, but your pussy, smart bitch, clutched at his every thrust, considerably more so when he asked you such a depraved thing.

Meeker than you intended, you nodded because yes, you did, in fact, want to show Ben how you came. 

Adam shifted his weight, pulling out of your sloppy cunt for only the time it took to put your feet on the floor and turn you to face Ben. He hummed as he grabbed your hips, pulled you back against his body, and let his cock find his target. Your head dropped on a moan as he filled you back up because it was even better this way. You had surer footing, could brace yourself on the desk’s corner, and didn’t have to concentrate on not falling. Using fistfuls of your hips as leverage, Adam crashed into you, sending jolts throughout your already overstimulated body. It was glorious.

And then, Ben’s boots came into your line of sight, followed swiftly by his muscular hand around your throat, silver rings cool against your heated flesh. You tracked beauty mark to beauty mark, wondering when the constellations kissed his cheeks. You should have been mortified. Ben finding you here with Adam should have struck you dead there and then, but it only emboldened you because his eyes weren’t full of judgment. He wasn’t disgusted by what he saw. His honey-gold gaze, laced with hunger, burned into you possessively. He held you by the neck, the strength of his grip waxing and waning in time to your heartbeat, while his brother plowed you from behind. When his voice wiggled its way into your ear, your knees nearly buckled. Adam’s was clear but devious, which made his filthy quips more surprising because they were hard to expect. Ben talked very little. His voice, which you didn’t truly appreciate until this moment, was rough and low, like his very voice box was calloused.

“Is this the first time he’s fucked you?”

You whimpered, eyes drifting shut until you felt a rough tap at your cheek. His face, all furrowed brows and licked lips, telegraphed that next time, he’d slap you proper. Pushing yourself to stare straight into his eyes - it was like looking into the sun - you nodded again, feeling every bit of your desire dribble down your legs because one brother was great, but two was immaculate.

“Is this the last time he’ll fuck you?”

Your guts clenched, and you reached out to stabilize yourself by laying both hands on Ben’s chest, which you already understood was only because he allowed it. Without a second thought, eager even, you shook your head. You’d reached the point where you’d let him - no them - do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it because holy goddamn.

Adam chose this moment to increase the speed with which he fucked you into oblivion. His hips slapped against yours, hands clamping down onto your shoulders for better leverage. Your eyes crossed, and you nearly swallowed your gag. With one hand on Ben, you reached up to grip Adam’s fingers, anchoring yourself between the two of them. They were your literal rock and a hard place, and they worked in tandem to drive you thoroughly crazy. Ben’s hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your slippery clit. You howled, spine waking up to tingle and dance. 

“Fuck, there it is,” Adam groaned behind you. 

What else could you do but give him what he wanted?

~

His brother had told him about the way you shook when you orgasmed, and he really had thought nothing of it. Most people did that, didn’t they? If you did the job right, there was always a tremor in the legs, a wobble in the walk.

Ben was not prepared for the way you shook when you came.

For a second, he thought you were about to have a seizure, but he watched your face smooth out in pleasure, watched your lips turn up at the very corners, and he was flat out shocked by what he’d just witnessed. 

You loved it. Loved being fucked. Loved coming so undone your mind stopped working. For him, it was the way you smiled as you came. The shaking was stunning, of course, but nobody he’d ever fucked before had goddamn smiled - beamed! - through their climax. It was truly the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

And then he grinned like the devil himself because fucking hell…

“You’re fucked, little sister. You know that?” 

He scooped some of your slick onto his finger and popped it in his mouth. Shit, you even tasted like candy.

“Well and truly fucked.”

[madame-fear]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 | 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

A complete sweetheart, literally. Right after you finish together, Lucerys will lay next to you and fill your face with tons kisses while cuddling you tightly against his body.

And of course being the lovely shy little bean he is, Luke will ask you all sort of things like: Did you like it? Was I too rough? Did I hurt you? Did you feel comfortable? just to make sure whether or not he needs to change on something to make your experience more pleasurable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think he'd have an specific favourite body part of yours. Lucerys would absolutely show love and appreciation to every single inch of your skin. However, I believe, the body part his hands would often visit while having intimacy together would be your legs, and your hips. He loves caressing those specific parts with his fingertips.

You, on the other hand, would love his soft and delicate hands. He knows how to use them (and his fingers) to make you feel over the clouds. And also, his neck; because you love kissing and nibbling on that zone since it would probably stimulate him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

When it comes to cumming, he'd probably would like to see you completely ruined with his own liquids because it would arouse him even more, but wouldn't say anything about it cause his inner kink would remain hidden.

Lucerys is always careful not to finish inside of you even if it makes him feel more satisfied, but he always enjoys coming in your stomach, chest, face, neck, lips... well, everywhere, basically. In a way, he feels like cumming on your entire body signifies you're his, and only his.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I think a dirty secret of his would be wanting for you to take control of him. Tying him up and do whatever you wish with him, get on top of his body, dominate him, command him so he can obey, make him beg to cum/touch you... those types of thing.

Basically, he'd love to be an absolute sub for you, but would be too shy to bring those topics up no matter how much he adores and trusts you. Also, he would absolutely be fascinated when you tease him publicly, like for example: placing your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his in between leg.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Before you, he had zero experience at all when it came to sex. He knew a thing or two about sexual relationships and satisfying women due to the erotic books he sometimes had to read due to his studies, but having real experience? No, zero; null.

Eventually, the more often you have those moments with each other, he'd get used to certain things, and would become more experience on what to do, what not to do, the things you like, your dislikings, etc.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lucerys likes having you riding him (*coughcough*ridingatruedragon*coughcough*), and occasionally, he will also enjoy being on top of you (is that position called missionary? idk).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He could never be goofy neither before, nor during, or after. Luke will be serious the entire time, and he will solely focus on showing you how profoundly he loves you... as well, he will do his best to pleasure and meet all your needs, so no jestering around.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well... Lucerys likes to keep himself groomed for you, I guess!

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Always a romantic boy, and the most intimate one. Luke's the sweet, loving, shy, soft, vanilla type of lover when it comes to having sex with him.

The one that will always asks you if you're okay with X thing, or if you feel confortable, if he's being too rough or not; the one that fills you with kisses and praises you constantly (for example: “you're so beautiful”, “you have no idea how badly I needed you”, etc). Also, will always try his best for both of you to be pleasured equally.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you both officially dated and he merely fancied you so badly, he started practicing intimacy and living out his wildest fantasies with you by jacking off at night, when nobody could disturb him.

After Lucerys had his first experience with you, there was no need to do so UNLESS you're apart for some days for some reason and he's really needy. At least, until he can get back to you. 👀

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sub/Dom, I guess. Luke will always enjoy being the sub boy that enjoys all your commands, and obeys. And if ruining you with his cum all over your body is a kink, then that one too.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly he prefers to have serious privacy with you, so he will always prefer to have sex either on his chambers, or on your chambers at night.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Honestly, everything about you is just enough to motivate him.

The way you stare at him, the way you take hold of his hands, how you softly caress his skin with your fingertips, the way you kiss him... all of that, is just enough to get him in the mood. If you're in public he'll try to contain himself, but if you're in private? Be prepared to have his inner wild deagon be released.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Choking, spanking, anything that causes you phydical pain, denigrating you by calling you names, touching/doing certain things that make you uncomfortable or you simply don't like, knife play — all those things are a big NO for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lucerys likes both receiving, and giving; but he'd have a preference for giving.

Even if he gets turned on by the way you so gently and pleasurably take his size in your mouth, he still can't compare it to the satisfying feeling of holding your hips tightly while he goes down on you, the way you interwine your fingers around his messy hair and push his face deeper in between your legs, the way you loudly moan his name, and how you release your discharge in his mouth.

That ^^ is much, much better for him. So, he'd rather give you pleasure that way. And as in terms of skills, he will know exactly where to kiss, suck, nibble, and slightly bite as to make you feel more over the clouds.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely slow, and soft. The thought of accidentally giving you pain instead of pleasure just makes him tremendously nervous, so he'd rather take things slowly, and move inside of you in a delicate, yet deep way as to hit your soft spots.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Regarding quickies, I don't think he would fancy them much unless he's truly desperate.

When it comes to being aroused, once you start with the teasing, he can't make that moment last briefly; he needs to take his time, slowly and softly, and do as much things as he can to get pleasure out of both of you. So, no quickies.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Even if he's still a little bit shy when it comes to these matters, he'll have no problem in being a little bit risky. Occasionally, he'll be the one slipping his hand on your thigh and fingering you under the table in front of everyone; enjoying the way you have to contain your moaning and whimpering, or perhaps, you'd take a more risked chance and have sex in the library, where anyone could find you there.

So, YES TO RISKS.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I think he'd be able to go through 3-4 straight rounds without getting dizzy. Our boy is quite an active little dragon, so expect him to be even more horny and needy after those 4 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Not really. He wouldn't use them, nor you use toys on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Our boy adores teasing you to no end, especially when being in public.

Like I said previously, when he decides to take risks, he'd finger you under the dinner table in front of everyone and enjoy having you squirming under him — but, when he wants to tease, he'd simply place a hand on your thigh dangerously close to your in-between leg, and watch you lose your shit.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Even though he tries to keep his moaning as contained as possible — releasing some small, whimpering groaning — he will eventually lose control of himself, and would moan rather loudly to the point any guard outside his chamber would be able to hear you.

His sounds would be mostly whiny moaning, whimpering, and groaning.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One time, Jace entered his chambers in the middle of the night without knocking; only to find the two of you wildly fucking, and your body dripping with all of Luke's cum.

At least, Jace learned the reason why knocking on someone's door before entering.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I'd say he's either average, or sliiightly a little above average. Either way he's a good one at pleasuring you, no doubt.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he started dating/having sex with you, he wasn't one to have developed much sexual appetite. But, after his first sexual experience with you, expect him to be always needy and touchy, or hinting you that he needs to feel you from the inside. So he's got kind of a high sex drive.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Shortly after cumming together, he'd probably takd a few minutes to get off his high of adrenaline, and fall asleep.

Though, he'd lay on bed while holding you tightly close to him, praising you with sweet words, and giving you many kisses as to calm down a bit from the intensity of the moment until you both fall asleep together, cuddling.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @feliuuuksks

[apostaterevolutionary]

So veilguard thoughts. I have a couple topics about it I want to go into more detail on which will probably be posts of their own, but this is my kinda initial, not as brief as I originally planned lmao review. This will have spoilers

TL;DR: I consider the game to be notbad.png. I liked some things but I have some criticisms too. A lot of it is going to be up to personal taste, but for me it’s. Not bad. It’s better than inquisition but not as good as origins or DA2. It feels a lot like a midway point between inquisition and DA2 with a splash of ME2 for flavour. I don’t regret playing it and I am planning a second run, but I’m going to take a break first and not do it right away. Also my final hour count for a completionist run was 86 hours

So the structure of this review is going to be various aspects, a letter grade rating, and then a little paragraph or 2 explaining my thoughts. I’ll also say that my expectations going in were not super high. Really, all I wanted was for this game to not ruin the other games for me and make me regret ever getting into the series. Not a high bar lmao, but I’ve had things limbo under it before. This didn’t – and I think I’m going to move forward with the DA2 tattoo I’ve been thinking about for the last few years. But yeah. Back to veilguard. I just wanted to mention it cause I do think expectations matter when it comes to assessing how good something is for you personally. If you were expecting something different, you may feel differently

(This is 3.5k words! What the hell lmao. You’ve been warned though)

Overall story: B

I have some thoughts about the lore and like. How the world has been made smaller by tying absolutely everything back to the evanuris, but I think I’m going to do a separate post about that cause it’s kind of a topic in and of itself. But it’s a weird combo to have like. The plot is Big and Epic (a bit too much, imo) but the lore feels like it’s shrinking, which is strange. But ultimately the story isn’t bad. I predicted the Varric twist thanks to a movie I watched a few years ago that pulled similar tricks lmao, but there were still enough twists and turns to keep me interested. Solas was infuriating for most of it, which really annoyed me right up until the end because you actually do get to conquer him. And ngl it was really satisfying lmao. I chose the trick ending (though I did also try them all) and it did feel damn good honestly. Weisshaupt is absolutely peak though, that mission I loved (and second run will be as a warden for maximum suffering there skdlsdk). Those two parts were absolutely the highlights for me. Also the double dragon fight was actually pretty epic

Also there’s been a lot of talk of “sanitizing” the politics and while I do agree with that, I think it’s more… it feels like they skipped over a lot of the politics more than anything. Which I don’t love, but my like. Specialty in DA was a political topic lmao. If you’re really into elf lore and the more truly fantasy elements, you probably loved the focus here. Dwarf lore, you probably liked it a lot too. But me being a mage freedom expert, well, there was one side quest in Rivain (which I did really like tbf) and one codex letter from Dorian and that’s about it lmao. I wish they hadn’t skipped over so much of it, but I do think that may have been a response to fan criticism of how they handled things in the past. Which is like. Okay, yeah, you did fuck up a lot, but that doesn’t mean just give up on it you know. I played as a shadow dragon and even then, slavery in Tevinter is skipped over a lot. I feel like there was room for more of the political topics, which is the stuff I really like. I’ve seen some theories that it could be corporate meddling and that’s believable to me, but I think the real thing they wanted to make was a game that was as likeable as possible. They wanted to please everyone. The problem with that, though, is you can never please everyone and the result is never as good as it is when you just go for what you want. And I do get a bit of that feeling here. There is some lost potential

Rook: B

While I realize Rook is player controlled, so how you play may change your opinion, but I decided to play as a sort of discount Hawke, with that similarity being why Varric chose them for this. And that vibe really added some flavour to it. It also meant that I was using the aggressive/direct option for most of the game and I definitely do see the criticism that you can only be so mean in the game. And like. Yeah, this person was chosen for their heroism, but there was room for a renegade “whatever it takes” (what ended up being the quote in my game) kind of character, which I don’t think Rook is even at their most extreme. Though tbf I wouldn’t have played them like that and I did enjoy them overall, so I’m mostly happy with what we got. Apparently a lot of people don’t like the accent? But I do ngl, like I specifically recall enjoying it. Not as much flavour as Hawke, but who is ever going to have that honestly lmao

I do wish Rook had gone through some more personalized horrors (and I think I’m going to write a longer post about this too), but that’s a preference thing so I’ll touch on it another time. The faction choice could’ve had more to it but like. That’s consistent with other DA games so I’m not that fussed about it. Also character creator is incredible, though my brain was too small to understand how the make up worked lmao. Although why are the qunari hairlines Like That. I used the only qunari hairstyle with bangs sdkls

Combat: D-

I haaaaate the combat. I hate it I hate it I hate it. I did end up finding a way to make it work by playing on Keeper and using what I decided to call the ‘masterchief build’ (high health, archery main with heavy weakpoint boost – basically I played it as a shooter where I just headshotted absolutely everything whenever possible lmao), but playing as a rogue is a nightmare. I’ll be trying mage when I do my second run, so we’ll see how that goes but woof. There’s a tiktok a friend sent me that goes “This is supposed to be a fucking RPG, what role am I playing, the fucking victim???” and that was essentially my experience the whole way through sdklskd. The game could be heavily improved by making it so every little hit didn’t stop whatever you were doing (using an ability, pulling an arrow, literally just trying to move), like if you could really trade hits I think it would be so much better. Also no one say “oh you just don’t like action rpgs” – I played jedi survivor in september and it does action combat SO much better. And I think I’m going to go play it again soon cause veilguard just made me miss how fucking good the combat is there

I will say the dragon fights actually ended up being my fave though cause it’s like. Basically the same fight every time lmao so yay for that considering there’s a lot of them

Exploration: A-

I liked this part a lot – like I said, I played jedi survivor in september and loved it, so the more vertical exploration I liked. The jump was a bit clumsy, like the distance was always just barely in reach so there was a bit too much barely making it ledge grabbing to really feel smooth (and this is why I’m not giving it an A), but I liked exploring the world. I 100%’d all the chests and altars without much trouble and it didn’t feel like a chore (though idk if all the chests are worth it once you’ve settled on the stuff you’re using). The puzzles were surmountable but still required thought and effort most of the time. I liked the inventory and looting system too – inventory management vexes me greatly so I liked the simplified version of it and the cosmetic options were a huge plus too. The only real annoyance was like. The endgame chests all upgrading equipment I was not going to use, why couldn’t it be for the bow I’ve had equipped for the last 30 hours that still isn’t yellow rank lmao. I think it was just a chance thing but still. Oh also adding sprint was an EXCELLENT decision holy shit

Also the hossberg wetlands and dock town were my fave areas cause I love a (not) Fereldan shithole and a shitty city that feels so much like Kirkwall lmao

Companions: B+

I liked them a lot and their quests were kinda the highlight for me ngl. I’ve seen a lot of criticisms and like. I do agree that I wish they had a bit more bite. I wanted Lucanis to get mad at me for saving my home over his even though he can understand rationally why I would do that. Because people are irrational! Let them be irrational!!! He’s literally possessed by a demon of spite, where’s the fucking spite??? I did enjoy the bits of bickering we got from the companions, though I think there was room for more. I’m not saying we need to hit DA2 levels of petty sniping lmao but I do miss a little bit of bite. I do like the companions overall though and I like their stories – I liked the outing concept too, it makes things feel  a bit more intimate. Some of the story beats are a bit clumsy, like I’ve seen a lot of criticisms of Taash’s and I agree it’s clumsy, but also I respect the attempt? Like I can’t say it’s bad, because even though I’m too old to really relate to that storyline, I know someone out there is going to play this game and get hit really hard by it. And I think that’s important, even if it could’ve been executed better. Also the single best line of voice acting in the game imo is that scream when their mother dies so. Controversial take maybe lmao but I’m okay with it. I quite liked the companion arcs, sue me

Harding was the weakest for me but tbh I'm not sure if I just don't remember her from inqusition well, or if it's cause she got kinda shackled with lore dump duty, or if it's the voice acting, or just that kind of character not doing it for me. But she just felt... off to me, in a way. Idk. I don't hate her, but she would be the one I like the least if forced to choose

I do agree about the lack of romance content criticisms though. I went with Neve and while I like her a lot, the like. Amount of romance content was a bit lacking. Given she’s a bit reserved and hesitant about things, it could be a characterization choice, but I’ve seen the criticism a lot so I’m not sure if they’re all like that or not. I’ll have to see when I do my next run (romance undecided as of yet)

Also. This is related to the personalized horrors mentioned above, so I’m going to go more into it in a separate post later, but while I love the companions interacting with each other and the way Rook interacts with them, I wish there’d been a bit more of them being the ones to go to Rook? Like if there had’ve been some kind of really terrible act 2 personal angst for Rook (as mentioned above), like having the companions comfort them would’ve been nice. I liked the rescue from the fade prison, but I really would’ve loved just. Even a 10 second scene of everyone being so relieved and happy that Rook was back rather than immediately jumping to business (especially as apparently Rook was trapped for weeks???). It made things feel a bit one-sided. But yeah, I’ll go into that a bit more separately I think

(I guess I am just always seeking the mid-game emotional gut punch of All That Remains and its aftermath lmao)

Past characters: C

Now we already knew about the keep situation, which does still annoy me but it’s whatever. I don’t like it, and I don’t like how bioware is like ‘well it’s too hard now’ well yeah, but you chose this when you made the series about choices and how they mattered. Like sorry, that’s the selling point you gave us lmao. You’re kind of stuck with it unless you pull an elder scrolls and start having the games take place further apart (and controversial take: for all its flaws as a game, I liked the Andromeda solution to that. The idea of having it be removed in space and time but still connected. Maybe I’m the only one lmao but I liked that idea). But anyway, it seems we weren’t going to get the game otherwise so I can deal with it. The appearances we did get though… Morrigan was fine I guess, I do enjoy her.  Isabela was mostly just key jingling, which I don’t hate but was also meh. Dorian was good – I liked him. Though when it comes to key jingling, I strongly prefer codex key jingling. Like when I got a sword that represented Zevran – that was fun (also wild that he is the only origins companion other than Morrigan even referenced??? That I saw at least). Also would’ve liked literally any mention of the DA2 crew in addition to Isabela but it is what it is lmao. Even a codex referencing Hawke would’ve been fun

The one I didn’t like though was the inquisitor and the grade here would be higher if not for this part. Typically speaking, I’m not a fan of previous protagonists coming back, but Hawke in inquisition worked better imo. It’s a one and done. Varric asks nicely, so they show up, do the thing, and then head back to whatever they were doing (or die, but I didn’t do that lmao). The inquisitor though… I get that if you romanced Solas, it probably works well. But for my inquisitor? Mine retired imo lmao. She’s chilling. She feels no responsibility for Solas cause if your friend suddenly idk becomes a serial killer, that’s not your fault. So my inquisitor absolutely would not be doing All That. Also I don’t love that southern Thedas is just… completely fucked I guess??? Cause why would the gods worry about southern Thedas when they are in the north? Makes more sense to conquer the area you are in first, send every troop in your arsenal there, not some other place. They can control the blight, why send it down there, where you are not? And they ruled as tyrants for centuries, foiled Solas for ages, so clearly they have some strategic skill and thus it makes more sense for them to focus fully on where they are and get that area fully conquered before moving on. These aren’t stupid villains, or at least they’re not presented as such, so they shouldn’t be doing something stupid like that. I get it’s to raise the stakes of the story, but I feel like the stakes were already more than high enough given all that’s going on in the north. Hasn’t Ferelden been through enough??? So idk, maybe the inquisitor showed up the first time and then retired to get drunk at 9 am every day and wrote a bunch of fake letters so Rook didn’t bother them further lmao. Or maybe those letters were more hallucinations from Solas. I didn’t like that part so I’m going to be headcanoning around it I think

(Also not me always thinking like. Hmm where the hell am I going to put handers during all this so they can have some damn peace lmao)

Overall structure: B-

(Rereading this I realized I ranked it B- and then just complained the whole time lmao but really, I do think it’s overall ‘fine’. There’s a few choices I don’t personally like but I liked the side quests and the main quest progression for the most part so. The criticisms below are still criticisms I have but they’re not enough to knock it down below a B-)

Ngl I’m not a fan of when main quests lock you out of side quests without warning (or like. If you accept a quest to go kill this entire town, obviously no more quests are going to happen there – I’m fine with that). I know it’s a common thing in mass effect, but that’s always been my least favourite part of ME, so I didn’t love that it was here too. Though tbf I don’t know if it’s like. Do all main quests do that? Or just certain ones? I played too early to have a guide so I just erred on the side of caution and did all side/companion stuff first. Which is fine, but I prefer to have the freedom to do what I want, when I want. You can smell the ME2 on it though lmao, like it was pretty obvious what they were doing. I do think it was less frustrating than in ME though cause like. You can just not do the main quests until you’ve cleared out the rest, whereas ME will just surprise you with big main missions at certain times so you have to think further ahead. Ultimately it wasn’t a dealbreaker, but it’s not my favourite kind of way for quests to work

I’m also not a big fan of like. The suicide mission concept in general. Some people like it and that’s fine – it’s a personal preference. But I won’t lie, I looked up the correct people to send where. I did that when I played ME2 too and I don’t feel any shame about it – that kind of thing just doesn’t do it for me personally. I don’t enjoy that kind of tension cause I just get mad and reload if I fuck it up lmao cause how tf was I supposed to know the correct answers. It was nice and easy to get all the factions up to full strength though so that was nice. Like it didn’t require extra effort really, you can do it just by playing the game fully and being slightly strategic with selling items. Which is a huge improvement on the original ME3 conditions but that’s a completely different topic lmao

Something bothers me about the Harding/Davrin choice but I’m not sure if that’s me being sad that a companion died or if it’s actually a valid complaint lmao so I’ll let that percolate a bit. Like why is it one of those two specifically? I understand a death was needed for the regret prison concept to work but idk, the choices just rub me the wrong way. But would I be less bothered if it was someone else? Is the bothered I’m feeling actually cause there’s something iffy about the choice or is it just the intended effect? I haven’t decided yet. I’ll have to sit with it for a bit I think. I did know it was coming, that’s one thing I was spoiled on, and while I’m kinda glad I knew I do wonder how I’d feel about it if I hadn’t

Final Verdict

So yeah. I liked a lot but I have criticisms too. I’ve seen a lot of people call it a 7/10 game and tbh I think I agree with that. But that’s also not a bad thing? It didn’t permanently alter my brain chemistry like the first 2 did but tbf that’s an extremely rare thing lmao. It’s okay for a game to be fun and a good time and one I will play again but not right this second and that’s all. Like that’s okay imo. Not every game has to be 10/10, ‘this has changed the way I think forever and ever’. It would be exhausting if they were (and hell, DA2 is probably my favourite game of all time and I can’t even call it a true 10/10 no matter how much I love it). Maybe it’s a bit of a let down to some given the 10 year wait but ngl I feel… relieved. That’s the only word for it. I experienced it. I had fun. I have criticisms but it didn’t ruin the entire franchise. I don’t regret playing it or paying for it. I will play it again. It’s simply notbad.png. There’s nothing wrong with that outcome. It did make me think of DA2 again lmao, even though I literally just replayed it recently, but that’s just how my brain is I guess. Whatever the hell they put in DA2 will be a high I will be chasing for the rest of my life I think

I’m not sure what else to say now. I do hope it’s successful so bioware can continue to exist. Overall, I liked it, but it has its issues and it’s missing that special sauce to really make it incredible. And that’s an okay thing. Yes, I have criticisms, but I also had a good time and I’m sure I will again when I do a second run. And in the end, I think that’s all I can really ask for

[writtenbyaris]

my creative writing process as a planner 🌟

the idea:

story ideas come to me at the most random and inconvenient of times. right before i fall asleep, when i'm in the shower, during my classes, etcetera. my main rule is to always write them down, whether it's in my notes app or a slip of paper or a journal... i'll forget it if i don't.

i try keeping it simple at this stage and not thinking too deeply about it, otherwise it becomes quite overwhelming. sometimes ¡'ll make a pinterest board depending on what the idea is. if it's more of an aesthetic, then i can make a moodboard out of it to help inspire me more. however, if the idea is a plot of some sort, that can be a bit more difficult.

character and world building:

this is my favorite part. once i have an idea set in stone and i'm ready to work on it, i begin building the characters and the world around it. i figure out the mechanics of the idea and how it can relate to characters and the world they're in.

at this point, i'm definitely making pinterest boards, playlists, and picrews to feel more immersed in the skeleton of the story.

i still keep it as simple as possible, and try to enjoy it. when i try juggling too many things at once, i end up wanting to abandon the project. slow and steady is the key for me :)

creating the story:

now we get down to what being a writer actually is.. transforming the idea into a story. i have to at least come up with one major plotline to start. i usually write in my journal during this stage, but sometimes i'll use notion to organize everything and keep track of it all.

oftentimes, the main plot will come to me when i'm working on character and world building. sometimes it's even the idea that first popped into my head. the story is usually influenced by dreams i've had, my own every day experiences, and other media i consume.

arcs, subplots, themes, etc:

this stage is for the smaller details that are vital for the story to flow and actually work. it's like a puzzle that's finally coming together.

for me, a story isn't a good one without arcs and themes, so those are of utmost importance. subplots are necessary to make the world more immersive, give readers insight on the characters, and keep the story naturally flowing. everything has to be woven back in to the main plot or idea, though.

i will say, this is the stage that tends to give me the biggest headache :P

zero draft:

jumping into a first draft as a heavy planner is too scary for me. so i came up with the idea of a zero draft. basically- zero expectations.

this is the backbone of my story. in this stage, i'm basically just taking myself through the steps of the story. i organize the plot and subplots into chapters, and with each chapter i go through all the beats of each scene. literally every. single. thing. that happens.

i don't usually include dialogue in this phase, but i do mention when a character will be in a conversation. all the focus should be on putting a needle and thread through the story and tying it all together.

first draft:

the first draft is somewhat easier for me because i do a zero draft. so, i know everything that will happen in a chapter and just have to utilize my writing abilities to make it rhythmic.

this is the first stage where i write dialogue, so it tends to be corny. a lot of my writing can be cliche and basic as well. that's what editing is for though!

i usually stress the most when writing my first draft, because it's the first time the story is actually being written in the format of a novel. by the end, it's not always very good either. but i do not look back at all, which means absolutely no editing until the first draft is finished.

and so on…

once the first draft is finished, then comes draft two. it's enjoyable to be able to read your own work all over again, though it's sometimes embarrassing as writing does improve with practice.

i focus on one chapter at a time-reading slowly, editing, filling in plot holes, fixing anything that changed later in the story. i try to catch as many details as i can.

usually, after as many rounds of editing one likes, the draft would be sent to an editor and beta readers. then i'd look into publishing companies (can you tell i haven't gotten to that point yet? lol)

are you a planner or a pantser?