#just sunny and boisterous

[diseaseriddencube]

i need to reread wof to finally figure out who my absolute favorite character is

[pin-k-ink]

MASKED INTENTIONS ⋆✦⋆ bokuto koutaro

synopsis ➸ bokuto’s halloween party is your chance to finally make a move. you’ve both danced around your feelings for too long, and tonight, you’re determined to make it official—no matter what

tags ➸ friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, some kuroo x reader, bathroom sex, possessive!bokuto, biting, marking, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, begging, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink

wc ➸ 8.4k

"Didn't you hear me the first time, [Y/N]-chan? I said I'm throwing a huge Halloween bash this weekend!"

Bokuto's boisterous voice cut through the dull roar of the bustling student center effortlessly. You startled slightly at his enthusiastic declaration, gaze snapping up from where it had been shamelessly roaming over the firm stretch of his pecs straining against his fitted tee.

Feeling your cheeks warm at being caught so brazenly ogling, you quickly averted your eyes and cleared your throat in a vain attempt at recovering some composure.

"Sorry Kou, I was just...uh, admiring your shirt," you fibbed weakly, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his bright amber stare. "But yeah, a Halloween party does sound pretty fun! Count me in for sure."

Bokuto beamed at your agreement, seemingly oblivious to your bashful once-over despite the faint blush dusting his cheeks. That radiant smile of his always did silly, fluttery things to your pulse without fail.

"Of course you're gonna be there!" he laughed richly, slinging one arm carelessly across the back of the sofa behind you both.

You held your breath as the motion made his sleeves ride up further, tendons flexing in that way that never failed to distract you into yearning. Bokuto leaned in conspiratorially, utterly heedless of how his solid frame dwarfed your space so deliciously.

"You're basically the deciding factor on whether this thing goes as crazy as I'm hoping, [Y/N]," he confided in a hushed rumble that had you mentally replaying the words several times into something far more suggestive.

Unconsciously, your stare traced the sharp line of his chiseled jaw, committing every shadowed dip and hollow to fresh memory. How you yearned to brush your fingertips along that enticing path, committed the sensation of Bokuto's stubble to sear into your nerve endings for the thousandth time...

"I mean, you're hands down the most fun AND the prettiest person I know!" Bokuto continued in that same oblivious candor. "No way I'm throwing this thing without my trusty sidekick by my side to keep me honest!"

You barely suppressed a shiver at the casual endearment coupled with Bokuto's undivided attention focused so intimately upon you. A tiny, smitten part of you indulged the wild fantasy of him actually intending that velvet rumble as a subtle overture towards something more than friendship...

"You're such a smooth talker, Kou," you managed after clearing your throat roughly.

Reaching out, you laid one hand over his bicep in a featherlight caress that made his tawny eyes go wide momentarily. Bokuto seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second under the unexpected contact, lashes fluttering adorably. But almost immediately, that huge sunny grin stretched back across his features as if nothing remotely charged had occurred.

"Laying it on thick already to make sure I get the best party partner in crime on my side!" he joked brightly, flexing that tantalizing muscle beneath your palm in a way you were certain he didn't fully comprehend the effect of.

With herculean effort, you dragged your stare up to meet his before your imagination could wander down far more lascivious avenues than mere bicep appreciation again.

"You don't play fair, Bokuto Koutarou," you rasped out, unable to resist a low note of playful accusation despite knowing his flirtations remained entirely unintentional.

But oh, how you wished the heated looks and delicious innuendos he tossed around with such careless charm could ring with deeper meaning behind them - aimed solely at reeling you into the same helpless thrall he'd held you captive within for months.

"Aww hush, you know you love it!" Bokuto laughed again, utterly guileless and irresistibly handsome in that moment.

All you could do was surrender fully to melting into a puddle of longing all over again, unable to deny his searing assessment even to yourself. After all, who else could inspire such debilitating desire in you but your gloriously oblivious best friend?

Pursing your lips in a vain effort at composure, you simply leveled Bokuto with your most sultry stare while his rambling rundown of planned Halloween frivolities continued to wash over your hopelessly smitten senses. No small act of stubborn bravery when his broad palms were suddenly gesturing with such vigor right before your yearning eyes...

"—and I was thinking of going all out with the vampire look this year!" Bokuto exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mischievous excitement. "Picture this - slick cape, ruffled shirt open to show off my eight-pack, maybe even a pair of those fake fangs if I can find some decent ones!"

You bit back a whimper that threatened to slip free, hormones blazing at the enticing mental image he was so carelessly painting. Bokuto, looking devastatingly handsome while deliberately putting his sculpted physique on display in one of those low-cut vampire getups? Yeah, that was a surefire recipe for spontaneous combustion where your overactive imagination was concerned.

"You'd look good enough to eat all dressed up like that," you couldn't resist murmuring in a tone several shades too sultry for mere casual conversation.

Bokuto simply cocked his head owlishly at your heated rejoinder, apparently oblivious to the blatant innuendo dripping from your words. That only made the rakish grin he flashed you in response hit straight to your rapidly fraying restraint like a sucker punch.

"Hah! You know it!" he crowed richly, flexing one bicep with a playful wink. "Can't wait to knock all the thirsty ladies dead when they get an eyeful—"

You had to physically cross your legs in a vain bid at composure when his words somehow grew even more salaciously charged without apparent intent. Mercifully, Bokuto seemed to pause mid-ramble, sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the fresh current of tension thrumming between your bodies.

"Wait, hold up!" He leaned in infinitesimally closer, rendering his clean, crisp cologne impossible to ignore. "What costume have you got planned to match my vampire vibe, huh [Y/N]-chan?"

Your breath stalled entirely as Bokuto's penetrating golden stare flicked from your face down to your mouth and back again with unabashed curiosity. Unconsciously, you found yourself mirroring the motion of dragging your gaze over the lush seam of his parted lips before catching yourself just in time.

"Now now, Kou," you husked out in your lowest register, unable to resist the flirtatious opening he'd created. "You really think I'm gonna spoil the whole surprise before the main event? Where's the fun in that?"

Bokuto immediately pulled back with a dramatic gasp of mock indignation, somehow filling the scant space between your bodies with that irresistible presence despite the harmless distance. You suppressed a tiny smirk at how easy it was to rile up his naturally excitable nature - especially when it came to any perceived challenge or hint of competition.

"No way, [Y/N]! That's so not fair!" he protested with a rumbling pout, folding his arms across that firm chest you'd been so keen to ogle. "As the guest of honor at this epic bash, I totally deserve a sneak peek before everyone else gets to see you all dolled up!"

His rich timbre dipped into a suggestive burr over those last few words that made every nerve ending in your body prickle with keen awareness. Only Bokuto could manage to sound so utterly innocuous and temptation incarnate at the same time without even trying.

"Yeah?" you couldn't resist dragging out on a breathy exhale, watching the way his eyes tracked the swell of your chest with unconscious focus. "Well then maybe if you're a good boy and take your party planning duties seriously...I'll consider giving you a private show before the main event later."

Your voice definitely sounded far too heavy with promise by the end of that bold declaration. But Bokuto simply threw back his head in another bout of raucous laughter, utterly guileless in the face of your shamelessly smoldering once-over.

"Now you're speaking my language!" he grinned down at you with so much boyish exuberance. "I can’t wait to see you in it!"

Before you could attempt to disentangle yourself from his effortless charisma and get up from the sofa once more, Bokuto reached out without preamble to grasp your hips in both large palms. You immediately went rigid as the sheer strength and heat of him seared through the thin fabric between you, pinning you down with scorching insistence until you were staring up into those blazing amber depths helplessly.

"In fact, better go ahead and show me a little something right now, [Y/N]-chan..." he husked out in a tone of pure sin, tightening his fingers until they dug into your flaring curves possessively. "Just to prove you can really back up all that pretty talk when it counts..."

You choked down a desperate whimper, hands instinctively scrabbling against that broad chest for purchase as Bokuto quite literally stole what little breath remained in your lungs. This man would always be the undoing of you eventually, oblivious charm or not - you could feel it down to your molten core.

Before you could formulate any sort of reasoned response, the shrill peal of the class bell rang out across campus. Body thrumming with unrealized need, you pulled back with a breathless laugh and shifted your hands to brace against Bokuto's chiseled torso instead.

"Easy there, Casanova," you managed to purr around your shallow pants. "I've got lectures to get to before I can bless you with the big unveiling of my costume. Think you can manage to behave yourself 'til this evening without my immaculate guidance?"

The tiniest flicker of disappointment flashed across Bokuto's striking features before he instantly smoothed it over with a winsome grin that kicked your pulse into high gear once more.

"No promises, baby!" he rumbled richly as you stepped out of his searing reach with great reluctance. "Unless you tell me what deliciously sinful look I've got to look forward to later tonight, that is!"

Your bark of wry laughter sliced easily through the thick atmosphere of building tension. Without breaking stride, you simply shot him an arch look over one shoulder as you turned towards the door finally.

"Like I said, Kou - tonight's ensemble stays a surprise..." You let your heated stare trail down the powerful flex of his abdomen in frank appreciation. "But I suppose you'll find out soon enough if you can keep those gorgeous eyes from popping clear outta their sockets around me..."

You punctuated the brazen statement with a shameless wink before whirling and sauntering off to class, leaving Bokuto's dumbstruck expression and one faintly uttered "hey!" lingering in your wake. He and the rest of his thirsty friends were all in for one hell of an evening indeed if you had your wickedest desires indulged.

This time, even Bokuto's famous density might not shield him from the full seductive force of your flirtatious charms being brought to bear...

You surveyed your reflection in the full-length mirror with a critical eye, smoothing your hands over the sinfully form-fitting crimson silk clinging to your every tantalizing curve and dip. The sleeveless cheongsam-style dress left absolutely nothing to the imagination - from the daringly low neckline putting your generous cleavage front and center, to the soaring thigh-high slit that would leave your legs on full display with each strutting step.

A diabolical smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth as you gave yourself one final saucy twirl, admiring the hypnotic sway of gossamer fabric rippling around your hips like tongues of flame dancing. Oh yes...this scorchingly lush ensemble would undoubtedly be more than enough for capturing a certain owl's undivided, stupefied attention in a deliciously compromising way.

The opening fanfare of 'Crazy Bitch' by Buckcherry had you jumping slightly before fumbling for your buzzing phone. You quirked one brow in amusement at the caller ID flashing across the screen - of course Kuroo had set that particular ringtone for himself on your phone.

"You're cutting it pretty close, aren't you kitten?" your fellow troublemaker purred the second you accepted the call.

Despite the familiar edge of mischief in his honey-rich timbre, you frowned slightly at the thinly veiled agitation lacing his words. Which instantly set off warning bells as to the potential status of a certain host you happened to be running fashionably late on at the moment...

"Look, don't get your panties in a twist," you replied dismissively, turning to examine your perfectly tousled hair from another enticing angle. "This ensemble takes a little extra effort to paint on if I'm gonna see any hope of making our dense guest of honor's jaw hit the floor tonight."

Kuroo's laugh crackled over the line in a dark velvet ribbon of sin that instantly catapulted your mind straight into the proverbial gutter. "Oh trust me, princess...there'll be precious little hope of Bokubro keeping his hungry gaze above sea level once he lays eyes on the look you're fixin' to strut in here."

That got your full attention, pupils dilating with keen desire at the mere suggestion of your longtime crush devouring every delectable inch of exposed skin and indecent curves you'd purposefully curated on his behalf tonight. Anticipation ignited molten coils of heat unfurling deep in your lower belly, nearly making your knees go weak in the process.

Before you could launch into wheedling Kuroo for more tittilating details at Bokuto's current state of unraveling, another teasing voice sounded in the background - Atsumu's unmistakable lilt overlaying familiar snarking about keeping things PG. You immediately scowled at the familiar byplay between those unrepentant flirts, mind flashing with crystal clarity on the debauched tableau unfolding at the venue without you.

Well...wasting one more minute on harmless primping was utterly out of the question now. Not when you had the chance to witness Bokuto Koutarou rendered senseless in person dangling so tantalizingly close.

"Sorry guys, but I’m done readying myself for the night," you husked out in a throaty growl of your own. "I'm on my way, and every single inch will be on full display for my owl to sink those pretty fangs into as soon as I arrive..."

A beat of weighted silence answered your searing promise, fractured only by Atsumu's breathless, "Fuuuuck..." and Kuroo's guttural hum of approval somewhere beyond sight.

"Clock's ticking for Bokuto to finally get his sweet comeuppance, huh?" the roguish middle blocker husked out before you could end the call. "Make sure to draw this one out niiiice and slow, kitten...hear me?"

The underlying warning to savor your long-awaited seduction properly tripped a fresh spark of wicked delight lighting up your nerve endings like a powder keg. Grinning brilliantly, you leaned forward until your cleavage brushed the mirror in an absolutely tantalizing tease of things yet to come.

"Oh don't you worry, Tetsu," you purred out in a feathery rasp that would've made any lesser man spontaneously combust. Your smile carved itself into a lascivious expression carved in sin itself as a full-bodied shudder racked your form exquisitely. "Let's just say our dear, sweet volleyball dolt won't know what hell he's wandered into until it's far too late to escape..."

With a resonant laugh that rang out sultry promise in its wake, you severed the call and squared your shoulders towards the dorm door. This was no longer simply a night of yearning for a man's acknowledgment, but a prowl zeroing in on its helpless prey at long last.

And Bokuto, for all his staunchly oblivious charms, wouldn't even know he'd tumbled into your carefully-laid snare until you had him bound irreparably to your thrall.

By the time you arrived at the buzzing venue, the Halloween party already seemed to be in full chaotic swing. Thumping basslines and shrieks of laughter echoed from the open doors, mingling with the smoky tendrils of dry ice fog spilling onto the sidewalk. You paused just outside the entrance, running an appreciative gaze over your skin-tight scarlet ensemble one final time before squaring your shoulders.

Tonight marked the culmination of months spent finessing all your most tantalizing wiles aimed at thoroughly enrapturing Bokuto in every sense. No more playing coy or hedging around the matter at hand - by night's end, that gloriously dense owl would be utterly yours in both body and soul, whether he realized it yet or not.

Squaring your shoulders with renewed determination, you slinked inside with hips swaying in a deliberate beckoning rhythm. The packed venue swallowed you instantly, heady waves of cologne, spilled liquor, and hormones crashing over your senses in a disorienting rush.

After shouldering through the first few knots of costumed revelers, you finally spied your trifecta of troublemakers holding court in one corner - Atsumu in some laughably tight red devil getup, bracketed by Kuroo's wolfish grins and Bokuto's towering frame clad in...oh hell yes.

Your breath stuttered faintly as you drank in the sight of him finally. The deliciously snug waistcoat, crisp white button-down straining against those obscene pectorals, onyx cape billowing behind him in tantalizing wisps...capping it all off, of course, with a pair of delightfully dumb faux fangs jutting over his lush lower lip.

Kuroo was the first to spot your crimson-tinted approach, burning amber eyes flicking over your scintillating form with unabashed lust before a slow, predatory smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. He elbowed Atsumu sharply, dipping his chin fractionally to signal your presence. But almost immediately, both boys retreated without fanfare from Bokuto's restless orbit - evidently having deduced your singular intent on this bewitching night in short order.

You prowled closer to where your unsuspecting prey currently slouched, shoulders rounded inward in one of his mercurial funks you'd become so adept at piercing down the years. That stormy, petulant expression looked so deliciously out of place framed by the gothic splendor of his meticulous costume...and so utterly enthralling for it.

No more holding back, you decided with a resolute inhale. It was now or never.

"Well well, what do we have here?" you purred out in your lowest, smokiest register - one you knew full well made Bokuto shiver with unconscious yearning each time. "Tell me, tall dark and sulky...do those fangs actually work as intended?"

Bokuto's head snapped up so fast you actually heard the accompanying crack of bone. Those blown amber irises of his imploded to twin points of blazing intensity when they finally locked onto your approaching figure in earnest. For several charged breaths, he simply drank you in head to toe with slackened jaw and parted lips before answering.

"Wh....[Y/N]-chan?" he managed to exhale reverently, sounding utterly poleaxed in a way that made your belly swoop with heady triumph. "Holy shit, I...you look incred—"

"Don't hurt yourself there, Kou," you crooned before he could devolve into rambling. Closing the distance between you in two deliberate strides, you ghosted calloused fingertips over the lush swell of his lower lip he'd just failed to moisten. Bokuto went utterly rigid as a bowstring at your touch, eyes fluttering like a flayed nerve ending at your unrepentant perusal of him.

Your nail snagged gently over one slightly crooked fang, tugging insistently until Bokuto's mouth parted on a ragged inhale. Releasing his lip from your teasing hold, you took the final step forward until the swells of your bodies brushed together tantalizing.

"A good little creature of the night like yourself should know better than to try tasting anything without proper...invitation first, hmm?"

Bokuto swallowed hard enough for you to track the flexing column of his throat, brain evidently having abandoned every last thread of function and reason at this proximity. You simply smiled, all teeth and sin, relishing the tangible aura of his desire washing over you in hot, lapping waves as you leaned in until the faint wisps of his cologne surrounded your senses.

"So tell me, Kou..." you breathed out against the shell of one flushed lobe, watching him shiver compulsively down to the core. "Do those pretty fangs of yours only work on the willing...or is a taste imminent no matter my answer?"

Those blown amber irises of his locked onto your smoldering stare with the intensity of a physical caress. You felt the air leave your lungs in a shuddery exhale as Bokuto inclined his chiseled features towards you torturously, bodies swaying together as if by sheer magnetic compulsion.

"Only if you want to...baby," he finally rumbled out in a tone lush with the most exquisite promise. His impossibly soft mouth trailed tantalizingly over the curve of your jaw, harsh stubble searing a brand into your softest skin.

You quirked one delighted brow upwards, a shiver of pure power tingling over your nerves at how thoroughly you seemed to have enraptured Bokuto's full, undivided focus in a single heady exchange. The music thrumming through the crowded venue seemed to fade away until all that registered were the harsh breaths sawed between your tantalizing proximity.

Bokuto's nostrils flared as his burning amber stare raked over your body again in a way that should have felt crude, and yet only stoked the molten coil of desire in your core higher. When he finally met your gaze once more, there was no mistaking the reckless, unrestrained hunger blazing in those hypnotic depths.

"You think you're so fucking cute, don't you?" His low rumble lashed over your sensitized nerves like a physical caress. "Swanin' around in that little scrap of nothing, practically begging for me to rip it right off you in front of everyone?"

You inhaled shakily at the blatant possession laced through his gravelly accusation. Bokuto took an indelible step closer, the solid mass of his frame allowing no prospect of retreat or avoidance whatsoever. His broad chest brushed the swell of your breasts with each thrumming inhale, the delicious friction making you shudder despite yourself.

"I see the way you strut and pose and tease the everloving fuck out of me on purpose, gorgeous..." His tongue darted out to lave over that plush lower lip you'd spent countless fevered nights yearning to taste firsthand. "And trust me...I've been dreaming up some wonderfully wicked ways to shut that pretty mouth for good using my—"

"Kou..." you gasped out weakly, thrilled arousal cresting hot and electric through your shaken form.

He reached out without warning, one iron-banded forearm knotting tight around your waist to crush you flush against the uncompromising hardness of his body. Your lips parted soundlessly as his erection branded itself against the softness of your belly in an unmistakable promise.

"So let's cut through all the bullshit teasing and playing coy for once yeah, baby?" Bokuto rumbled directly against the pulse point beneath your jaw, sending your eyelashes fluttering helplessly. "Why don't we finally answer this burning question I've got about what sort of nasty little noises you make when I get you under me...?"

The sheer blistering vulgarity of his murmured temptation made your knees go liquid on the spot. You sagged forward in his unrelenting embrace, shaking hands finding the solid plane of Bokuto's abdomen to brace yourself against as his mouth trailed searing, open kisses along the exposed curve of your throat.

"...Because I gotta be honest, kitten..." he continued in that same unapologetic burr vibrating through you both deliciously. "These last few months of watchin' you flaunt every lush inch while staying just outta reach have been absolutely fuckin' torturous for me..."

One palm slid up from your hip to palm a generous handful of your ass, squeezing with indelicate possession that had you whimpering brokenly into the charged space between your fevered forms. There was simply no mistaking the raw, rapacious nature of Bokuto's desire any longer - it radiated off him in cresting waves of molten sin and domineering command.

"So no more games, no more pretty lil' distractions, yeah?" The silky heat of his mouth ghosted up to trail the delicate whorls of your ear as he spoke, voice gone gravelly and utterly compromising in its carnal promise. "Why don't you be a good girl and show me just how bad you need this wild ride to start already..."

Bokuto didn't bother waiting for your breathless assent before his hands were seizing your hips in a vice-like grip that stole what little remained of your composure. One dizzying spin later and you found yourself pinned between the immovable force of his hulking frame and the bathroom door he'd just propelled you both through.

"This ought to be secluded enough for our purposes, don'tcha think?" he rumbled out against the thundering pulse in your throat, tongue darting out to lap at the sweat beading along your fevered skin. "At least until I've had my first real taste of unwrapping you properly..."

You keened softly at the blatant insinuation, fingers scrabbling at the taut muscle of his shoulders for purchase as his hips angled forward to grind his insistent arousal against the juncture of your thighs tauntingly. The friction sent sparks of electric need shooting straight to your molten core so potently you saw stars momentarily.

"Mmm, fuck you sound delicious already, baby girl..." Bokuto practically growled against the vulnerable stretch of your throat where he mouthed hot, openmouthed kisses steadily downward. "And here I was thinking playing coy and innocent would be the biggest hurdle we'd have to conquer tonight."

One large, calloused palm drifted up to palm your breast through the flimsy silk barrier with unabashed possession. You whimpered at the rough caress, back arching instinctively to present your breasts in silent offering as he teased the rigid peak with the calloused pad of his thumb mercilessly.

"But nah...turns out that legendary sweet little temper of yours was always gonna pale beside this other absolutely ravenous side you've been keeping locked up tight from me, huh?"

His blazing amber gaze found yours once more - reflecting the same barely-bridled starvation surely shining from your own hooded stare as well. The intensity of it made your breath stutter in your chest as Bokuto ducked his chiseled features close until you could all but taste the crisp notes of his musky cologne on your tongue.

"Tell me, kitten..." he rasped out against the seam of your parted lips, finally pausing his thorough mapping of your quickening curves to level you with his full, overwhelming focus. "Does being the center of every last filthy fantasy spinning through my head right now make that greedy lil' pussy ache and throb the same way?"

You whimpered brokenly despite your best attempts at composure, the vulgar poetry of Bokuto's words uttered in that wrecked bass registering at a bone-deep level of bliss beyond even your most intoxicating dreams. Before you could so much as attempt reciprocating his bold impropriety, he surged forward again - all ferocious hunger and searing friction as his chiseled hips slotted into yours with bruising insistence.

"Gonna take that as a yes..." he growled against your swollen mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip possessively before soothing the heated sting with velvet swirls of his tongue. "Don't you worry your pretty lil' head, though...we're gonna get this aching emptiness all squared away in a hot minute, baby. Just the two of us, the way it's been meant to be for a long fuckin' time now, yeah?"

In a dizzying flurry of motion, Bokuto suddenly banded both powerful forearms beneath your thighs and hitched you clear off your feet with a low, satisfied grunt. You cried out at the new precarious angle and the way it left you utterly exposed and spread wide around his thighs, pussy already slickening in desperation against the rigid heat branding your intimate flesh.

"After all..." he continued in that dark, carnal tone that seemed to reverberate through every straining tendon and bone betwixt your frantic forms. "What's the point of giving in to this if I don't intend to fully enjoy myself with you, pretty?"

You choked on a wanton whimper as Bokuto punctuated that decadent promise by grinding up into you sharply - his cock dragging against your drenched folds with devastating friction. One hand left your thigh to grasp your jaw in a punishing grip, angling your features up to receive the full force of his heated intensity unobstructed.

"Open up for me, pretty girl..." he growled when you managed to flutter your eyes back open in a daze. "Got something else I'm just dyin' to unwrap for you now that we're all alone..."

Bokuto paused for emphasis, casting you a downright lascivious grin filled with dark promise as one thumb traced the plump curve of your lower lip deliberately. The vulgar implications danced behind his heavy-lidded stare, lighting fresh trails of heady desire licking through your veins like wildfire.

He snared your dazed focus and simply held it captive for several ragged heartbeats as his grin bled slowly into something fiercer, more predatory. Then with his next words the final threads of your restraint splintered into dust at last:

"Been practicing on how best to use these fangs on your sweet lil' body for weeks now, pretty thing..." Bokuto rumbled with liquid sin sewn through every syllable. "Wanna show you just how sharp they are and how fucking good I can make you feel when you finally give yourself over to me, yeah?"

You shuddered against him at the blatant insinuations woven into the carnal tapestry of his offer. It took an inordinate amount of effort to peel your tongue away from the roof of your mouth and shape the breathless, fervent words clawing their way free from the back of your throat:

"Yes please...!"

Bokuto's answering groan was a thing of pure animal hunger as he sealed his lips against yours once more. One large, calloused palm braced the nape of your neck, holding you fast in place as he ravished your mouth with a ravenous intensity that made you see stars. You whimpered brokenly as his tongue traced the seam of your mouth before delving inside to map every secret crevice and corner with shameless urgency.

You gave as good as you got in the fervent exchange, nails scrabbling at the corded strength of his broad shoulders as you attempted to press impossibly closer. His cock throbbed hot and heavy against your inner thigh as he licked into your mouth like he intended to claim it for his own with each decadent stroke.

It was the sort of kiss you'd only dared dream of for far too long - deep, dizzying, and utterly overwhelming in the best possible sense. Bokuto kissed you like a man starving for his very next breath - devouring you whole and relishing every last delectable morsel until nothing remained except the most exquisite, unquenchable craving for more.

"Fuck, that's it..." he rumbled out against your trembling mouth after breaking the kiss for air. His fangs dragged over the tender skin of your lower lip tauntingly as his scorching gaze bored into you with predatory intent. "Knew you'd be the sweetest fucking treat I've ever tasted, baby girl..."

Your whimper turned into a full-throated cry when his mouth dipped lower and began laying claim to the sensitive curve of your throat once more. Those fangs nipped and teased and suckled at the delicate skin until your entire body was strung tight as a bowstring in his unrelenting grip.

Then without warning, the flat of his tongue slicked a decadent path up the straining column of your throat. You shivered with pleasure when the rasping sensation registered on your hypersensitized nerves - the subtle scrape of his stubble leaving goosebumps in its wake as he lapped up every last drop of sweat dotting your skin.

"Oh fuck..." you moaned hoarsely, hips rocking forward in search of friction. "Kou, please—"

"Gotta mark you up first, baby." His graveled reply ghosted over the hollow of your throat, sending the fine hairs along the back of your neck standing on end. "Need everyone to know exactly who you belong to after tonight."

Then before you could manage a response, Bokuto's teeth sank into the tender stretch of flesh directly over your pulse point.

The sudden pain was a searing shock, stealing the air from your lungs in a gasp. It took you a moment to register the low, rumbling growl reverberating through Bokuto's chest as he sucked and lapped at the bite. He pulled away just enough to lap at the reddened skin and soothe the lingering sting, and then his lips were sealed against your throat once more - suckling and scraping and marking until a full-body shudder wracked your fevered form.

"There..." he rasped against the shell of your ear, breath fanning across the tender, sweat-dampened flesh. "That’s just one of many marks I'm gonna leave behind after tonight, kitten."

The low, graveled cadence of his voice sent a thrill shooting straight to your core as you sagged forward into his embrace. Bokuto shifted his grip, allowing the full length of your torso to mold against his as he continued his decadent worship. Your arms twined around his neck to anchor yourself against the relentless waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"So much more to go before I'm done with you, baby." He nipped and sucked his way down to the slope of your breasts, hands kneading and caressing the ample flesh. "But I think it's time we get started unwrapping you properly now."

One hand snaked around to your lower back and tugged at the knot. It fell away easily, allowing the sleeves to flutter loose around the swell of your shoulders. You bit back a moan at the feel of his lips curving against your skin as he pressed an openmouthed kiss directly over the frantic pulse fluttering just beneath the surface.

"There's my perfect girl..." Bokuto rumbled low as he reached around to peel the garment down just beneath the swell of your breasts. "Show me those gorgeous tits now, sweetheart..."

You keened weakly as he pulled away, allowing you to shift back against the wall and arch your back. Your hands trailed down to the thin fabric still bunched around your waist, but before you could make a move Bokuto was there - one hand wrapping around your wrist to still the motion.

"Nuh uh, baby..." His molten gaze raked over the generous curve of your exposed chest and the stiff peaks of your nipples with ravenous hunger. "Lemme do the honors. You've been driving me crazy with the teasing for long enough already."

Bokuto released your wrist and reached forward. He grasped the silk and eased it down until it fell to a puddle of satin at your feet. Your breath hitched at the sudden chill washing over the freshly exposed skin, only to have your thoughts derailed by the sound of Bokuto's low, drawn-out whistle.

"Fuck..." His voice had gone thick with blatant appreciation as his amber stare raked over every exposed inch. "And here I thought that skimpy pink number you wore for the team's New Year's party was gonna be the one I'd finally lose my shit over."

One large, calloused palm slid up the smooth curve of your belly to cup your breast with possessive hunger. You shuddered at the rough friction, back arching into his touch with shameless eagerness. Bokuto grinned with a low, approving chuckle as his other hand drifted to mirror its counterpart.

"But damn, kitten...gotta say that this is definitely a close second." He tweaked and teased the tender flesh until your thighs were trembling with desperation. "So fuckin' soft and pretty. I'm gonna have the time of my life burying my face in 'em, baby girl."

Bokuto punctuated his decadent declaration with a sharp, deliberate squeeze that had you whimpering aloud. Then his mouth was upon you, teeth scraping over the taut buds until the sting registered as a bolt of white-hot pleasure searing straight to your core. You keened brokenly, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck to urge him on.

"Kou, please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted hot and damp against the underside of your breast as his mouth trailed lower. "Want me to keep sucking these sweet lil' tits 'til I've had my fill?"

He pinched the pebbled peaks between his thumbs and forefingers and gave them a slow, torturous twist that had your legs shaking on the spot. His eyes darted up to capture your hazy, feverish stare in their blazing heat, and then his lips curled up into a devilish grin.

"Or are you ready for me to show you how fucking good it's gonna feel when I'm eating this greedy pussy instead?"

The sheer obscenity of his words combined with the slow, deliberate grind of his hips against yours made you see stars. He was so hard against you, so insistent and aching and thick—

"Y-yes...oh god, Kou...please!"

Your response was a desperate, broken cry - half-whimper, half-moan as you clung to him desperately. He smirked against your flushed skin and rewarded you with a final, teasing lick before releasing the abused peak with a wet pop. Then his molten amber gaze found yours, and the predatory promise burning within it sent a delicious thrill dancing along your spine.

"Well, since you asked so nicely, pretty girl..."

Before you could so much as draw another breath, Bokuto was hooking both arms around your thighs and hoisting you clear off your feet in a dizzying, breathless rush. He spun on his heel and took three purposeful strides forward, then paused just long enough to deposit you unceremoniously atop the bathroom countertop.

The marble surface was cool against the heated flush of your bare skin, sending a shudder racing through you. Before you could regain your bearings, Bokuto's palms were skating along your calves and trailing up to the backs of your knees, coaxing them wider and wider until they were splayed wide around his broad frame.

"Fuck, baby girl...that's a helluva view..." he rumbled in approval, hands skimming further upwards to cup the backs of your thighs and squeeze possessively. "Been dreaming about this pretty pussy for way too fucking long now."

You moaned when his thumbs traced the sensitive juncture of thigh and pelvis, so close and yet so far away from where you were throbbing and aching and needy. Then he was ducking his head to the crook of your inner thigh and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the salty, quivering flesh.

"Think I'll start by seeing if I can make you cream all over these fingers while I'm getting this sweet cunt nice and wet, baby..."

The dark, carnal promise sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your clit. Bokuto's teeth scraped over the delicate skin, tongue tracing patterns over the sensitive expanse as his hands urged your legs further apart. The cool air of the bathroom made you shiver as he mouthed his way towards your soaked core.

"Kou, p-please..."

Your pleas died on a shattered moan when he suddenly leaned in and licked a decadent, filthy swipe over your clothedpussy. The rasp of his tongue over the thin, drenched fabric left you writhing, fingers scrabbling against the countertop for purchase as his fingers dug bruises into your quivering thighs.

"Gotta get my dessert, baby..." he rasped, breath fanning over your sensitive flesh and leaving you whimpering. "Don't wanna waste a single drop."

The next thing you knew, he was yanking your thong to the side and diving between your spread legs with a low, satisfied groan.

His tongue traced the crease of your inner thigh for the briefest moment, only to dart straight up to the swollen nub of your clit the next. You keened at the sudden onslaught, head lolling back against the mirror behind you with a breathless sob.

"Oh god...!"

Bokuto growled with feral approval as he licked and suckled and teased at the bundle of nerves with unerring accuracy. Each stroke of his tongue was a sinfully decadent combination of rough and smooth and so, so wet - dragging across the hypersensitive skin with the most exquisite friction.

He laved the flat of his tongue in broad strokes that had you squirming helplessly. You cried out when the tip flicked and curled and stroked against your throbbing clit until you were panting and writhing, thighs quaking around his shoulders.

Bokuto didn't stop there, though. He was ravenous in his pursuit, devouring your pussy like it was the best fucking meal he'd ever had. One hand released your thigh, and then his fingers were parting the swollen folds to delve deeper still. You choked on a broken moan when the first two plunged into the molten depths of your aching core with ruthless abandon.

"So fucking wet and tight for me already, baby girl..."

Those long, thick digits curled up and hit a spot deep within you that made you see stars. He began stroking, massaging the tender patch with each thrust. His other hand snaked around the inside of your thigh and dragged over the swollen nub of your clit.

The double stimulation sent a jolt of electricity shooting straight through you, and before you could even register it your muscles were clamping down around him in a sudden, powerful release.

Bokuto groaned as your release spilled out over his fingers and drenched the countertop. He didn't slow his pace, though. If anything, he increased the speed of his thrusts - pistoning in and out of your sopping wet channel with a lewd, wet squelching noise. His tongue circled and flicked and teased until the aftershocks gave way to a new, fresh wave of pleasure that had you keening aloud.

"That's it, baby girl..." Bokuto crooned, pulling away to pepper messy kisses along the crease of your thigh. His fingers slowed, but didn't stop their unrelenting assault. "God, look at how fucking good you taste...gonna need seconds soon."

The vulgar promise had you moaning, fingers digging into the short strands of his hair and tugging insistently. He chuckled darkly, lips curling against the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh before he sank his fangs into the plush give and sucked with a low, satisfied groan.

"Ahh!"

It was too much - the rough drag of his tongue and the scrape of his stubble against your quivering thighs, the way his fingers curled and scissored and spread the walls of your core until you were dripping and stretched wide. The sensation of his fangs buried deep in the delicate skin was a delicious, decadent agony that had you arching up from the countertop with a strangled cry.

"Fuck, so pretty for me..."

Bokuto's husky murmur sounded muffled and distant to your ears, the words distorted by the haze of pleasure clouding your senses. He lapped up the last drops of your release, tongue circling and teasing over the swollen, throbbing nub once more. Your legs jerked, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers with a renewed urgency.

"Kou...need more..."

Your voice was a wrecked, broken plea, barely recognizable to your own ears. Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails digging into his scalp until a low, feral growl vibrated through the taut line of his back.

"Need what, baby? Tell me what you need, and it's all yours."

Bokuto withdrew his fingers slowly, only to add a third alongside them. The extra stretch had you whimpering, eyes squeezing shut as the overwhelming fullness registered in your fevered senses. His thumb pressed against your clit, circling and stroking in a rough, relentless rhythm as his fingers drove into you over and over and over again.

"C'mon, sweetheart...tell me what you need."

Bokuto pulled away, his breath fanning over your sopping entrance as he crooked his fingers in a 'come-hither' motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the knowledge sent a fresh surge of arousal pooling between your legs. You bucked your hips, desperate for more of that delicious friction that had your thighs quaking and toes curling.

"Y-Your cock, Kou..." you managed on a broken moan, head tossing back as the sensations began to overwhelm you. "Please...need you so fucking bad, please—!"

The next thing you knew, his hands were hooking beneath your knees and pushing them against your chest. Bokuto's body blanketed yours, his thick, muscular form pressing you back against the countertop in an intoxicating cage of heat and hard muscle. His hips rocked forward, the thick ridge of his clothed cock grinding against your exposed, throbbing core with delicious friction.

"I gotcha, baby girl...gonna give it to you real good now, okay?"

His low, graveled rasp ghosted hot and damp against the shell of your ear before he pressed a searing kiss to the curve of your throat. You whined in agreement, hands grasping and groping at his back as your hips jerked up in search of friction. Bokuto rumbled his approval, one hand reaching between your bodies to free himself from his pants.

Then he was guiding the blunt, weeping tip of his cock against your drenched opening. The slick, smooth glide was an agonizing sort of perfection as he pressed forward - each inch a torturous blend of bliss and burning fullness that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

"Too…big..."

The words escaped on a choked, ragged sob. Your fingers scrabbled against the broad expanse of his shoulders, the stretch bordering on painful. It felt like you were being split in two, the sensation only magnified by the way his fingers were gripping your thighs so hard you were sure they would leave behind the faint imprint of his fingertips.

"Easy, sweetheart...you're taking me so fucking good right now..." Bokuto rasped against the side of your throat, the words coming out in a strained, guttural snarl. "Feel so damn perfect...fuck, I'm not gonna last long like this..."

You whimpered, thighs quivering reflexively at the strain as you willed yourself to relax. The burn was easing a little, though not by much. Bokuto pressed his face against the curve of your shoulder, teeth sinking into the tender flesh with a low, feral groan as he sheathed himself inside you completely.

"You're so goddamn tight, baby girl..."

There was a breathless, reverent note to his words that belied the carnal desperation lurking just beneath the surface. His hips shifted, and then he was moving - drawing back slowly before plunging forward in a single, sharp thrust that made you both see stars.

"Holy shit..."

The hoarse, guttural expletive fell from his lips on a harsh, ragged exhale as his grip tightened on your thighs. Bokuto's movements were a study in contradictions - each stroke measured and controlled, his movements almost leisurely in their pace. Yet there was a tension thrumming through him, the raw, primal hunger simmering beneath the surface betrayed by the way his fingers were leaving bruises in their wake.

"Fuck, Kou...! So fucking good...!"

You keened the words as your body adjusted, the sting giving way to a molten, throbbing heat. You were so full, so deliciously stretched and filled and used - every thrust a torturous blend of agony and ecstasy that had you seeing stars.

Bokuto was relentless in his pursuit, and you couldn't have been more grateful. Each snap of his hips was harder and faster than the last, each thrust accompanied by a low, guttural snarl that told you he was holding back.

"That's it, kitten...just a little bit more..."

The words were a low, filthy rumble as he released one of your thighs to reach between your bodies and rest his palm flat against the quivering, flushed plane of your stomach. You whimpered, inner muscles clamping down around him in anticipation. His fingers pressed downward, and a fresh wave of pleasure flooded your veins when he found the thick ridge of his cock moving in and out of your core.

"Holy fuck, baby...you feel that?" Bokuto's mouth found your throat, fangs sinking into the flushed, salty skin with a feral snarl. "Feel how deep I am inside you, kitten?"

His words sent a thrill racing along your spine, your hips bucking up in answer. Then his thumb was grinding down against your clit and stroking, circling the bundle of nerves in a relentless, decadent assault that had you keening his name.

"Oh god, Kou...g-gonna cum, please, don't stop...!"

You were right there on the edge, the coil of pressure and heat tightening and tightening with each delicious thrust. Bokuto's hand shifted from the your stomach to the back of your thigh, angling you just so and forcing your leg wider.

"Let go for me, baby...wanna feel this pretty cunt cream all over my cock, understand?"

The words were a feral, snarling growl, his breath hot and damp against the curve of your shoulder. The next thing you knew, his hips snapped forward - driving into you at a brutal, unrelenting pace that had you keening, his cock dragging against that one spot with ruthless precision.

The coil within you snapped, and your release crashed through you in a white-hot, blinding wave. You screamed his name, back bowing up off the countertop in a sharp arch as the pleasure took over. Bokuto's snarl came from a place so deep within him that it sounded foreign, his hips jerking forward one final time before he buried himself inside you with a strangled groan.

His release spilled out into you in a scorching, wet rush, coating your walls and filling you until there was no room left. Bokuto's breath stuttered, the air hissing out between clenched teeth as his muscles seized and locked up.

The pair of you lay there, panting and dazed, for a long moment. When the tremors began to subside, Bokuto eased himself out slowly, hissing through his teeth when his cock slipped free and his release dribbled out over your quivering thighs.

You didn't have the energy to be embarrassed by the sight, nor the mess. Bokuto seemed unfazed, his amber eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction that had you shivering all over again.

"Well...I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for a second course."

You moaned when his lips ghosted across the shell of your ear, the sound turning into a yelp when his arms tightened around you and swept you up off the countertop. Bokuto's answering chuckle was warm and low, his amber gaze burning into yours.

"Gonna feed you some more, baby girl...and then we're taking this back to my dorm, so I can get a proper taste. Sound good to you?"

All you could do was nod and wrap your arms around his neck, the ache between your legs flaring anew at the promise.

"Good. Because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Lonely!Seungkwan shows up at your fishing tent and goes fishing alone because his friends didn't show up. And you make sure he doesn't feel lonely by offering him company on your breaks. — WC: 3.2k — WARNINGS: Mentions of being left out, smut, fluff, penetrative sex, fingering, g'spot stimulation, squirting, oral (m. receiving), sk is mentioned ab being good with girls一he fucks u good because he likes you sm <3

[Issue Club Serie]

You arrive at the fishing center early, just as the first light of dawn breaks over the island bay. The salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs, a familiar comfort. Your dad's fishing center stands quiet and still, a stark contrast to the bustling weekends when groups of men flock here, escaping their everyday lives with beer and fishing rods. You brace yourself for another routine day of serving loud, boisterous customers.

But today is different. As you unlock the kiosk and roll up the gate, you notice a lone figure waiting by the entrance. He's much younger than your usual clientele, with dark brown hair that catches the early morning light. He’s standing there, hands in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," you call out as you finish opening up, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'd like to rent a fishing rod," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of shyness.

"Just one?" you ask, somewhat surprised. He nods.

You hand him a rod and watch as he sets up at one of the chairs by the water. He moves with a calm, practiced ease, casting his line into the bay and settling in. You expect his friends to arrive soon, but as the morning stretches into afternoon, no one joins him. He remains alone, reeling in a fish here and there with quiet patience.

The hours pass, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of your tasks. When the guy finally returns to the kiosk, you notice the slightly downcast expression on his face as he pays for the rental.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly, "Not many options," he says, and you frown, wiping down the counter.

"What do you mean?" you probe gently.

"I invited some friends to come fishing with me today, but no one showed up," he admits, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. There's something about his cool, easy-going demeanor that makes his confession all the more poignant. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry to hear that," you say sincerely.

He shrugs, offering a pained smile. "It's okay. No need to be."

But you can tell it does bother him. The way he looks down at his hands, the slight slump in his shoulders—it's clear he had hoped for more from today.

As he leaves, you find yourself hoping that next time, he'll have someone to share his fishing trip with. Until then, you'll remember the lonely young man who came to the fishing center, looking for company and finding only the quiet expanse of the bay.

A few days pass, and the familiar sight of the boy on his bike comes into view again. Your kiosk is already open as he pedals up. You glance at him and smile. “Good morning...?”

“Seungkwan,” he says with a small nod.

“How can I help you today?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the counter.

“One fishing rod, please,” he replies.

“Again,” you think to yourself. You give him a small smile and hand him the rod. He sets up alone, just like last time. You sigh at the sight. It’s a sunny Thursday, the perfect morning to fish under the warm sun with good company. With no customers around, you decide to join him.

You grab your fishing rod, some bait, and two glasses of cold lemonade. As you approach, you place the cups on the table next to him and your things on the floor. Seungkwan watches you set up a chair beside him, glancing at the two glasses. You start fishing by his side, and it’s completely silent. Seungkwan seems so used to being alone that your presence feels foreign to him.

After a while, the silence begins to feel natural. You break it, asking, “Is there a reason why your friends didn’t come today?”

He looks at you before turning his gaze back to the water. “Well, Joshua works a lot, Seokmin studies non-stop, Woozi doesn’t leave his home, and Jeonghan is dating right now. So... I don’t blame them.”

You hum thoughtfully. “They must be very busy.”

He nods. “They are.”

You hand him the lemonade, and he thanks you. Then, he asks, “Why are you fishing with me?”

“Well, I’m not exactly fishing,” you say. You both glance at your rod, which is just laying in the water, not cast far out, just resting on the sand.

He laughs. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

You shrug, laughing too. “I’m used to selling fishing stuff, not really going fishing.”

“Then why are you fishing now?” he asks.

You smile. “I wanted to talk with you.”

Seungkwan looks surprised. “You don’t need to keep me company out of pity.”

“No,” you brush his idea away, “I really wanted to get to know you.”

Someone genuinely excited to know about him? He feels so happy he almost explodes. Every time you ask him about his favorite song, what he likes to do, what he’s studying, or why he likes to fish, he feels more and more content.

As the morning sun climbs higher, your conversations flow easily, the gap between two strangers closing bit by bit.

Seungkwan fights the urge to visit your dad's fishing center every day. He doesn't want to seem desperate. Each time he comes, he brings something new—a sweet treat, a fresh loaf of bread. You two have developed a routine of walking along the beach at sunset, feeling the cool waves lap at your feet. 

Sometimes, he even helps you with the work at the tent. Your dad is charmed by his kindness, and you can't help but love Seungkwan's company too.

He's become like a keychain, always by your side. The thoughts of him being alone have dissipated since he met you. Your friends adore him too, though you sometimes have to remind them that you were his friend first. His good looks don't go unnoticed, and it’s hard to deny that you noticed his charisma from the first time you saw him.

Now, as you close the kiosk after a successful Saturday, Seungkwan helps roll down the window gate. Your dad has gone to take some goods to the city center, leaving just the two of you. You rearrange the fishing rods on the holder on the wall, glancing at Seungkwan out of the corner of your eye. darkened interior closed kiosk, you can see the outline of his physique through his tight shirt.

"Thanks for your help today," you say, trying to sound casual.

"No problem. I like being here," he replies with a smile.

You finish with the rods and turn to face him fully. "You know, you don't have to bring something every time you come."

He shrugs, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I like seeing you smile."

The words make your heart skip a beat. You step closer, his body resting on the counter "I like seeing you too, Seungkwan."

He seems to consider this for a moment, then says, "I don't feel so alone anymore, thanks to you."

The tension between you installs, but it's a comforting kind of tension, one that promises something more. In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how much his presence has become a part of your life. The darkness of the kiosk feels intimate, like a cocoon wrapping around the two of you.

"You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "you're pretty good at this fishing center stuff. My dad might start paying you."

Seungkwan laughs, the sound filling the small space. "I'd do it for free, just to be around you."

Your heart swells at his words. "Careful, or I might just take you up on that."

He grins, and the warmth in his eyes makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. "Deal," 

You two start to notice how close your bodies have become, a proximity you didn't even realize until now. The air is thick with the shared breath between you and Seungkwan, heavy and shallow. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you sense him moving even closer.

"Seungkwan," you say softly, breaking the tension. "You said you were alone because of your friends... but I never asked if you had a girlfriend."

He looks at you, his expression serious. "No, I don't."

Your heart races as you gently pull on the hem of his shirt. "So, if I kiss you right now, there won't be any problems, right?"

He breathes out slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. "No problems at all," he whispers.

You take advantage of the intimate darkness of the kiosk, leaning in to press your lips against his. His body responds instantly, molding against yours. One of his hands finds its way behind your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss, while the other slides down to your ribs, fingers teasing the edge of your bikini, thumb sliding on your underboob before slipping under it to touch your nipples. 

The sound of your kisses fills the small space, wet and urgent. "Kwan," you gasp, pulling back slightly to catch your breath.

He hums, eyes dark with desire as he looks at you. You turn quickly to lock the door, a preventable act. Before you can turn back, Seungkwan's body is pressed against yours from behind. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as his hips grind on your ass. You can feel the hard bulge between his legs pressing against you.

Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you linger in the sensation, his lips finding your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands roam over your body, one slipping inside your shorts, the other trailing up to your boob.

One thing Seokmin had told you when Seungkwan brought you to meet him was that Seungkwan was really good with girls when they studied together. 

You had forgotten it.

But now, with his fingers moving in and out of your pussy, under your bikini, as you grind against him, the memory suddenly resurfaces. You didn't even notice when you started moaning, your head resting on his shoulder, mouth open as louder moans escape with each movement of his fingers.

You feel so wet, as if you'd been swimming in the ocean, but the truth is that you're melting under Seungkwan's touch. He curls his fingers against your g'spot, and you quiver, your hand bumping against the wall, knocking a few fishing rods to the ground.

"C-cumin'," you warn, your hips rolling against his hand. 

He intensifies the curl of his fingers, making them go deep into your pussy, reaching the spongy spot harder, making your body flinch up with the strength of his grip. His other hand holds your ass firmly against his cock, guiding your movements.

"That's it," he whispers in your ear. "Let go."

Your back arches, pushing your ass harder against him. The sensation completely consumes you, every nerve in your body is glowing with delight. Your orgasm builds rapidly, the tension coiling tightly in your core until it snaps, making you cum, his hand drenched inside your bikini. You cry out, your body trembling as you ride the high of your orgasm, Seungkwan's fingers never stopping their fast pace.

As you come down from your peak, he holds you close, his breath hot against your neck. You can still feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a constant reminder of how much you both desire each other.

He removes his hand from inside your bikini and shorts, and you can feel the wetness as he slides his hand up your belly. Your mind snaps to attention when you hear him sucking his fingers clean, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You turn around, your legs like jelly as you manage to kneel between him and the door.

Your hands are desperate to find the hard muscle of his cock. Seungkwan braces himself by laying a hand on the door frame, and the sight of his cock, slightly slapping your face as you pull his boxers down, makes his knees quiver. The bulbous head rests against your cheek, smearing precum on your skin.

You relax your jaw, preparing yourself. Holding the crown of his cock, you prop your hands on his balls and take his perfect length into your mouth. You've seen a lot of beautiful things in your life, but hearing Seungkwan's moans is quickly becoming your favorite. He moans, sensitive to the slightest licks, and the sound makes you keenly aware of how wet you are, your bikini and shorts sopping together.

"God, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. His fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding you.

You hum in response, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth. You take him deeper, savoring the salty taste and the way he fills your mouth. Each moan he releases, more you deepthroat him, your cum pooling between your legs.

Seungkwan's breathing becomes ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he tries to control himself, his grip tightening in your hair.

You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before taking him in again. The way he reacts to every touch, every flick of your tongue, makes you feel powerful, in control. You glance up at him, seeing the bliss etched on his face, lit bitten to contain his moans, and it only spurs you on.

The sounds of his pleasure, the taste of him, the feel of his body trembling—it's unforgettable. You lose yourself in the act, in the way you're linked, the darkness of the kiosk, the intimacy of the moment, everything else fades away.

He pulls you off him with a gentle but firm hand, panting heavily. "I don't want to finish like this," he says, voice hoarse. "I want to be inside you."

You nod, breathless and eager. He helps you to your feet, and you feel the slickness between your thighs, a signal of your arousal. Seungkwan kisses you deeply, hungrily, tasting himself on your tongue as he guides you to the counter. His hands roam over your body, shivers following whenever he moves them on you.

You lean back, feeling the cool surface against your skin as he pushes your shorts and bikini aside. Every nerve in your body alight with need., and Seungkwan seems very proud of the effect he was having on you. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to wait any longer.

With a final, searing kiss, he positions himself and pushes into you slowly, filling you completely, his cock so rigid, fighting to penetrate, as your pussy squelch around him. He starts to thrust in and out slowly, even gradually the feeling is intense, because you had already one orgasm, and Seungkwan was looking for his. 

"Seungkwan," you moan, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

He groans in response, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back," he admits, his voice strained.

"Don't," you say, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. "Faster, please," you ask, your voice desperate against his lips. 

The request makes him nearly collapse to his knees, overwhelmed by your need.

Seungkwan adjusts his grip, holding your leg up with one hand under your knee, spreading you wider as he thrusts deeper. Your head falls back, strangled moans escaping your mouth as your eyes roll back in ecstasy. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat of his embrace makes you feel dizzy and weightless.

At a certain point, you become aware of Seungkwan sobbing in pleasure in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You glance down, seeing yourself dripping onto the ground, squirting uncontrollably. You couldn't hold back even if you tried; the orgasm doesn't just crash over you—it overturns you completely.

You stare in shock, gasping for air as the longest orgasm of your life pulses through you. Your body convulses with pleasure, and Seungkwan's reaction only heightens the intensity. His raspy moans fill the air, his balance faltering as he tries to maintain his rhythm.

He pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, and strokes his cock with his hand. His cum spills onto the floor, mixing with your own fluids. His body convulses against yours, and you can feel his weight as he leans on you for support.

You're left trembling, unsure whether to hold onto the counter behind you or to cling to him. Your legs are weak, and your breaths come in shallow gasps. Seungkwan's body is still pressed against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath in the aftermath of such an intense experience.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice still shaky.

You don't answer, your breath still coming in shaky gasps. Instead, you pull Seungkwan into a tight hug, feeling his warmth envelop you. He hugs you back just as tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

The two of you stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other, trying to regain your composure. Your heart is pounding, but there's a sense of calm in the embrace, a shared understanding that words can't quite capture.

His hands move gently over your back, a soothing motion that helps you steady your breathing. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own.

Seungkwan finally breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this to end," he whispers.

You nod against his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Me neither."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, "I never thought I'd find someone like you here, I don't want to be alone again," he admits, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You smile, knowing that the day you decided to spend with this lovely boy, resulted in something like this. "I feel the same way."

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn't realized was there. "Let's not let this be just a moment," he says, his gaze earnest. "I want to be with you, really be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel lighter than air. "I'd like that," you say, your voice steady and sure.

He smiles, and it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Good," he replies, leaning in to kiss you softly.

The kiss is gentle, a promise of more to come. As you pull back, you both laugh softly, the tension melting away into something lighter, more hopeful.

"We should probably clean up," you say with a small chuckle, glancing at the mess on the floor.

Seungkwan nods, a playful grin on his face. "Yeah, we made quite the mess."

Together, you set about tidying up the kiosk, the comfortable silence between you filled with a new sense of unity. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other, sending those butterflies to your stomachs. The mundane task of cleaning up feels almost ceremonial now—a simple act that solidifies the bond between you.

[frogchiro]

h...

hairy captain McTavish is something I didn't know I needed so bad

I'm doing anything for him. committing every sin in the book for him l

wagging my tail, bringing him my leash, putting my face right in his hair chest RAHHHH

Captain MacTavish who is just so...masculine, so brutish and rough all over, doesn't take shit from anyone and isn't afraid to manhandle someone if they get too cocky with him because there is one thing you need to know about John-he loves obedience.

He's a rough man but he's also prideful, he's proud of what he managed to build in his military career, that he's a captain but he's also incredibly proud of his physique and isn't afraid to show off a bit, especially in front of the sweet Hackergirl when there are other males around :(

Loves loves loves to walk around shirtless, his well-build torso on show and heavy muscles moving underneath his tanned skin as he stretches and flexes his biceps, his hairy chest and tummy on show as he walks around and checks how the recruits are doing their training. John's rough voice would echo around as he growls at the incompetent soldiers running around like chickens without heads, they just seem so distracted by something and when the large male swivels his head around to look for that fucking distraction, he sees you-the pretty 141 girl, their resident hacker who drives everyone insane with those nice tits, sunny smile and those nice, shapely and full hips John wants to yank back onto his cock :((

Imagine him strutting over to you, still shirtless and boisterous making sure to flex his strong muscles as he talks to you and asks what a pretty young lady like you is doing here, all the while smirking like a wolf because he sees how flustered and shy you got </3

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[miasmaghoul]

sooo.. how do we feel about swiss fingering transdew in the passenger seat

"Why me?"

Swiss tilts his head, spinning a heavy set of keys around one finger.

"Why not?"

Dew raises an eyebrow, gestures at the guitar in his lap, the papers spread out on his bed.

"Oh please," Swiss scoffs, pushing himself away from Dew's doorframe and striding into his sunlit room. It's a gorgeous day, early spring, the sweet scent of the rose gardens wafting in on the breeze. "You're tellin' me you'd rather practice than go for a joyride?"

Dew snorts, crossing his ankles and adjusting his beat up old acoustic. It's true that he's been at it for a while now, since just after breakfast, but this solo has been giving him shit and he's determined to nail it before their next group session.

"I don't think taking Sunny and Lus to the grocery store counts as a joyride."

Dew strums out a few chords while Swiss flops into his desk chair, leaning it back onto two legs. It creaks under his weight.

"Maybe not," Swiss concedes, unbothered, "but you could still come keep me company."

"What, the girls not enough for you?"

"They would be," Swiss replies with a shrug. "If they didn't spend every trip making out in the back seat."

Dew snorts at that - Swiss has a point, Sunshine and Cumulus are not ones to keep their hands off each other in any context. Still, he grumbles.

"C'mon, Sparky," Swiss goads, scooting his chair closer so he can rest his elbows on the mattress, propping his chin in one hand and prodding at Dew's knee with the other. "Don't make me beg."

"But I like it when you beg."

Dew throws Swiss a wink, and Swiss reciprocates with his best puppy dog eyes. Big and wet and completely irresistible. Dew sighs, throws up his hands in mock defeat.

"Fine, fine," he grumps, setting his guitar on the bed. "But I'd better get something outta this."

Swiss grins, delighted. Pats Dew on the thigh as he stands, shoving the chair back under the desk.

"I'll tell Lus to buy that spicy jerky you like," he offers, and Dew gives him a little ooh.

"The cheese too," he insists, shuffling to the edge of the mattress and reaching for his boots. "The one with the habaneros."

"Yeah, yeah," Swiss chuckles, heading for the door, "but warn me before you eat it, I'm not sleeping with you on cheese night again. I learned my lesson."

Dew hurls a pillow at him, and Swiss scampers into the hall with a boisterous laugh. The little ghoul works on lacing up his boots, and makes a mental note to never tell Swiss when it's cheese night.

Twenty minutes later they're on the road, and as the breeze blows through his hair Dew wonders why he was so reluctant in the first place.

It's a gorgeous day, sunny and hot, but not enough to need the a/c. They're flying down the highway in Copia's ancient whale of a car, the windows down and a Judas Priest cassette blaring through the speakers; Swiss belts out the chorus to Breaking the Law while Dew taps out a matching rhythm on the outside of his door. In the back, Cumulus provides backing vocals while Sunshine dances in her seat, and Dew can't help the massive grin that splits his face.

It's a 45 minute drive to the nearest grocery store - the one downside to the abbey being so remote - but the trip passes quicker than he expects. They're trundling into the parking lot before Dew knows it, Swiss killing the engine and groaning through a solid stretch. Dew flips down the visor, looks in the tiny mirror and makes a displeased sound at the state of his hair.

"Okay," Cumulus pipes up from the back seat. Dew peers at her in the mirror, not missing the fresh hickey just below her ear. "I have the list, I have our allowance, I have..." she pats at her chest, searching the pockets of her denim vest, "ah, and I have my phone!"

"You got my snacks on that list?" Dew inquires, working at his knotted ends. Cumulus makes an affirmative sound.

"Sure do," she lilts, leaning forward to dangle the paper in his face. "Jerky and cheese, as requested."

"Get some of that chocolate I like too," he mumbles, "the dark stuff, with the salt." He turns his head to give her outstretched hand a quick peck. "Please."

"You got it, sugar," she giggles, tucking the list away. "You two coming with us?"

"No boys allowed," Sunshine and Swiss say in unison, and the lot of them chuckle. It's a known fact that Dew isn't a fan of crowds and that Swiss can't be trusted around free samples, so in the car they will stay.

"Besides," Swiss adds, leaning across the bench seat to throw an arm around Dew's narrow shoulders, "I got good company right here."

He nips at Dew's ear and the little ghoul elbows him in the side, hard enough to make Swiss yelp. It turns into a quick little slap fight, a moment of playful stupidity that Dew will never admit to enjoying as much as he does.

"Play nice, kids," Sunshine chides when they break apart, resting her chin on the back of their seat with a toothy grin. "Or mommy won't bring back any treats!"

"Gross," Dew complains, but settles anyway. Goes back to working the kinks from his golden locks. Sunshine leans over the seat to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek and Dew squawks in protest.

"Aww, but you I thought you loved calling me that!"

Dew shoves her away, suffers through a chorus of snickers while his cheeks go pink, and resolutely avoids looking over as Swiss. The girls get their things together and then they're clambering out of the car; Sunshine glues herself to Cumulus, laces their hands together, and together they stride across the parking lot to the hulking monolith that is the grocery store.

"Mommy, huh?" Swiss pipes up moments later, and Dew groans.

"Shut up," he grouses, giving up on his messy hair and slouching down in his seat. "It's her thing, not mine," Dew lies. "Besides, I've called you worse."

"Can't argue that," Swiss lilts, stretching his arm along the back of the bench seat. "Remember that time you called me Mr. Army?"

Oh, does he, and Dew really doesn't want to think about that right now. Thick fingers tease their way into his tangled hair, blunt nails scratching against his scalp.

"You were the one that put me in a schoolgirl outfit," Dew huffs, crossing his legs for reasons totally unrelated to that particular memory. "I can't be held accountable for anything I said."

"I just never thought I'd get anyone but Rain to call me that," Swiss murmurs, a lascivious grin sliding onto his face. Dew looks at him from the corner of his eye, unwilling to lose the pleasant pressure of Swiss' hand in his hair.

"Rain? Really?"

"Oh yeah," Swiss says, converational. His hand moves to cup the back of Dew's neck, and oh is that lovely. "Wanted me to spank his ass raw and tell him what a naughty boy he was while he said it. Poor guy went off against my thigh before I could even get him on my cock," he sighs, wistful. Swiss turns his head, fixes Dew with that vulpine smile. "You were a nice surprise."

The little ghoul rolls his eyes, and really hopes Swiss doesn't notice him squeezing his thighs together. He has nothing further to say on the matter - or, at least, nothing that won't get him into trouble - so he stays silent. Enjoys the way Swiss' thumb rubs the spot just behind his ear while he watches humans mill about the lot. Families and individuals both, with arms full of paper bags holding untold goodies.

For what it's worth, Swiss doesn't keep talking either. He's not quiet, still humming out a tune Dew recognizes but can't quite place, but it's comfortable. The sun's hanging high in the early afternoon sky, a gentle breeze flowing though the still open windows, and Dew would be lying if he said this wasn't a nice way to kill time.

"What's on your mind?" Swiss asks a handful of minutes later, giving his neck a squeeze. "You're never quiet for this long."

"Oh you're one to talk," Dew chuffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't remember the last time you shut up for more than five minutes."

"Pfft, sure you can," Swiss insists, that large hand dipping into the collar of Dew’s t-shirt, callused fingertips drifting over his skin and dragging a soft sigh from his lips. "I'm pretty sure I don't talk that much when you're sitting on my face, spitfire."

Dew scoffs despite the tingle the words force through him, a warm feeling settling into his belly. He turns his head to give Swiss a look, an incredulous eyebrow raised.

"That's the only example you can think of?"

"No," Swiss shrugs, "it's just the one I'm thinkin' of right now." The other ghoul licks his lips in a very intentional way, and that tingle hits again. "I guess deepthroating Mount counts too, but -"

"So the only thing that keeps you from yapping is having someone's junk in your mouth," Dew interrupts, nodding sagely, "noted."

Swiss laughs, loud enough to get the attention of a few people loading their car nearby. Dew shrinks in his seat.

"Like you're complaining."

He shifts in the seat, scooching closer. Dew squints at him, suspicious, but doesn't protest. Not even when Swiss gets close enough for their thighs to touch, for the other ghoul to drape an arm around his neck and let that huge hand rest on his chest. For Dew to soak in his spicy cologne and for Swiss to rest his chin on a bony shoulder.

"Besides," he rumbles, nosing at Dew's temple, "we both know you love my yapping."

"Love is a strong word," Dew mumbles, tilting his head when Swiss nuzzles his neck nonetheless.

"Mm, I don't think so," Swiss hums against his jaw, stubble scratching at his skin in a way that makes Dew's eyelids flutter. "Don't think I missed that little leg squeeze when I was talkin' about Rain, baby."

Dew groans, gives him a little shove. Far from enough to dislodge the other ghoul, more of a nudge than anything else. Token protest. Swiss huffs out a soft laugh, kisses his cheek.

"That's what I thought," he coos, licking at the shell of Dew's ear to draw out a shiver. The hand on his chest finds a nipple through his shirt, and Dew has to bite his lip to keep from making a sound. Curse Swiss for knowing every one of his weak spots. "Can't hide from me, Sparky."

Dew hates that he's right, and hates even more that - even in a place like this - Swiss can get him riled up with so little effort. Dew bounces his leg, takes his lower lip between his teeth while he scans the parking lot. There are people everywhere, but none close enough to see them - a fact Dew is very thankful for when Swiss sucks his earlobe and gives one of his nipple piercings a tug. Any closer and they might hear his moan.

"Fuck," Dew grunts, squirming in his seat, "ugh, you bitch."

"Such language," Swiss taunts, tracing the tip of his tongue along Dew's pulse point. "Lucifer, you're so easy."

Dew growls as best he can, human glamour be damned, and it just makes Swiss laugh again. It's a shame he can't argue - Swiss and Aether are the only ones who have such an effect on him, and they both know it perfectly well.

"Aww, gettin' all hot and bothered already?" Dew tries to shake his head, but Swiss kisses his throat and it doesn't get him very far. "Don't lie, firecracker. I can smell it on you."

Of course he can. He always can. Dew sighs as his eyes slip shut, sagging into the seat as Swiss slowly but surely teases the spots that make him start to sweat. Swiss' other hand lands on his thigh, stroking tight denim until Dew’s legs uncross. He walks two fingers up the inseam of the little ghoul's jeans while he trails wet kisses along his jaw, and Dew really can't help the soft sounds it all wrings from him.

Then that wandering hand sneaks under his shirt, lifts it up to expose his belly, and Dew jolts.

"H-hey, wait," he breathes, fists balled at his sides. His eyes crack open despite the way Swiss continues to work his chest, his throat, his ear. He watches Swiss' talented fingers trace his happy trail, dip into his navel and disappear up his shirt, and when Swiss rubs at his bare nipple Dew has to clap a hand over his mouth to hide his moan. "Shit, Swiss -"

It's muffled by his palm, and Dew's eyes dart around the parking lot as Swiss pulls away. Fixes him with hooded eyes and a crooked smile.

"Hm?" Swiss tugs both piercings at once and Dew shudders. "Something wrong?"

"You - oh - fuck, Swiss some...someone's gonna hear, someone's gonna - nngh - gonna see -"

"So?" The hand under his shirt runs ticklish trails down his belly, makes the muscles there jump. Swiss nibbles at his collarbone and Dew makes an embarrassing gurgling noise. "You like being watched and we both know it."

That may be true, but Dew thinks there's a difference between Mountain spying on him through a crack in the door and being fondled in a public parking lot with the windows down.

Swiss' hand finds his belt then, and Dew throbs.

"Fucker," he bites out as Swiss unbuckles him, other hand still expertly working his chest, and Dew flushes at the dark chuckle Swiss lets out.

"Maybe later," he croons, kissing the hinge of his jaw. "I got other plans for you right now."

Swiss wastes no time it getting his belt out of the way, quick to pop the button and tug down his zipper. Dew's narrow chest is heaving by the time Swiss hooks two fingers into the band of his boxer briefs. The other ghoul gives him a cruel smirk, snaps the band against his skin, and Dew sucks air through his teeth.

"Better keep it down, baby," Swiss speaks against his ear, liquid silk. "If you can, that is."

That hand worms its way into his underwear, slips down between his thighs, and Dew clenches his teeth so hard his jaw cracks.

"Mm, what's this?" Swiss glides the tip of one finger through his folds and Dew's thighs tense. "So slippery already. Just from this?"

Swiss tweaks his nipple, licks a nasty stripe below his ear, and Dew really has to work not to choke on his own tongue. His fat little dick throbs against Swiss' palm, and Swiss sounds absolutely thrilled about it.

"Oh, someone's excited," he teases, one thick finger prodding at his hole. "It's already tryin' to suck me in," Swiss sing-songs, and the little ghoul's shoulders sag.

Dew whimpers when he pushes the tip inside, clenching around an intrusion that feels far too good for how slight it is. He can't stop looking at everyone wandering the parking lot, trying to stay on high alert for the slightest hint of undue attention but struggling more and more with every passing second. Swiss wriggles that probing digit further inside, up to the second knuckle, and then there's sudden pressure on it front wall that has Dew's back arching off the seat.

"Fuck, fuck," he wheezes, hands flying to whatever he can reach - one paws at Swiss' shirt, the other gripping his forearm. Feeling the muscles shift as Swiss' finger works him open, groaning at the gentle stretch. "Oh you bastard."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart," Swiss breathes, palming his stiff clit, and Dew's breath catches in his throat.

"Can't believe you're - oh shit, oh - fuck, can't believe I'm letting you - ah!"

Dew bites his lips shut as Swiss curls his finger just right, muting his cry and fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back. Clamps his thighs around that massive hand until Swiss chuckles in his ear, swirling that digit and making the little ghoul's eyes cross instead.

"You're so pretty like this," he rumbles, a second finger tracing around the first, spreading slick. "All shy. Makes you even tighter," Swiss tells him, and Dew clamps down even harder. Why is it so good? "Wish I could get you in my lap right now," his breath is so, so hot in Dew's ear. "Get you to sit on my cock and see how quiet you are then."

Dew shivers head to toe, legs spreading at the thought alone, and Swiss leaps at the opportunity. Pulls his first finger out only to slide back in with two, and there's no possible way he could stay silent through that. He turns his head just in time to sink his teeth into Swiss' shoulder, howling his pleasure into cotton and flesh, and Swiss groans right along with him.

"That's more like it," he praises, kissing the top of Dew’s head while he pants and shivers. "Gonna be a quick one, isn't it?"

Dew nods as best he can, moaning into Swiss' shirt when he rubs the heel of his hand in slow circles over his pulsing clit. Doesn't pull back until he's sure he can control himself, gasping when Swiss crooks his fingers but biting back the whine bubbling up in his throat.

"Y-yeah," he admits, thready. He can't be bothered to look out the window anymore, staring only at the bulge Swiss' hand makes in his jeans. "Fuck, just do it, fuckin' make me."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Swiss lilts, one last taunt, and then the only sound filling the space around them is the wet squelch of skilled fingers plunging in and out of his tight little body.

It's perfect - the curve of Swiss' digits, the pressure against his sensitive little dick, the way Swiss rubs at that one spot inside that has Dew going boneless against Swiss' side. Huffing hot into his shirt, hair falling into his face and wafting in the breeze still flowing through the open windows. He can't stop grabbing at Swiss - his shirt, his arm, whatever he can reach. Skinny hips rolling against his palm in search of more, more, driving Swiss' fingers as deep as they'll go.

"C-close," he spits far too soon, every inch of him on fire and wound tight as a spring. Swiss gives his closes approximation of his usual purr, and Dew's thighs quiver. "Like...like that, just like that, shit -"

"Yeah?"

The hand still torturing his nipples stills, presses flat to Dew's chest. His fingers feel so perfect Dew can't handle it, on edge and covered in goosebumps.

"Give me a squeeze, baby," Swiss instructs, and Dew does. Clenches hard around those two wonderful digits and Swiss seems to predict the sound it'll drag from him, because the hand on his chest flies to cover Dew's mouth and catch his wail. "Fuck, that's my good boy," Swiss huffs, breathless in a way Dew adores even through his haze of pleasure. The other ghoul holds him close, keeps his mouth covered, and Dew scrabbles at the arm working him. "Now let me feel it cum for me."

Dew loses all sense of rhythm as Swiss curls his fingers one last time, hitting something that puts stars in his eyes and wrenches harsh moans from his throat, and with one perfect roll of Swiss' palm against his clit Dew's gone.

He's drooling against Swiss' palm when he comes down from the highest high, sweaty at his hairline and his cunt still snapping around Swiss' fingers. Holding him inside with the little ghoul rides out the aftershocks, breathing hard through his nose and blinking with one eye at a time. Swiss is muttering all sorts of nonsense into his hair, a litany of praise and wonderment that Dew cannot for the life of him understand but appreciates anyway.

Soon enough sensitivity sets in, and Dew hisses against Swiss' damp palm. Reaches up to peel his hand away with shaky fingers, squirming until Swiss gets the message and pulls out with care. There's a gush of warmth that follows, soaks into his briefs, and Dew heaves a sigh.

"Unholy shit," he slurs, collapsing back into his seat like a mound of jelly. "What the fuck, Swiss."

The other ghoul chuckles, and Dew rolls his neck just in time to watch Swiss pop his messy fingers into his mouth. Listens to Swiss suck them clean and groan at the taste of him.

"What?" He licks slick from his palm, exaggerated passes of his tongue that Dew finds himself fascinated by. "You said you wanted to get something outta this, right?" Dew blinks at him, brows scrunched together as he tried to make his brain work. "Just granting your wish, Sparky."

Swiss gives him a wink, and then he's leaning in for a quick kiss. Just a peck, really, before he's fastening Dew's jeans and putting his belt back into place. Smoothing his hair as best he can before he scoots back behind the wheel, lacing his fingers behind his head. Dew's fully back by the time he's done, very aware of their surroundings once more and ever so glad to see their activities seem to have gone unnoticed.

"Just in time, too," Swiss comments, nodding towards the store. Dew squits against the sun and sees the girls just leaving the building, Sunshine's arms full and Cumulus carrying what looks to be a single bag of chips. They're bumping into each other and giggling, Dew can tell even from across the lot, and his own smile curls into place.

"Damn," he laments, sitting up straighter. "Guess you'll have to wait 'til we get back for your turn, huh?"

He turns to give Swiss a playful wink, and finds Swiss looking...he isn't sure. Smug? Maybe? Hard to say.

"What's your problem?"

"Nothin'," he shrugs, eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Just find it funny that after so long you still don't know what you do to me."

Dew blinks as Swiss reaches over to grab his wrist, guiding to his crotch and -

"Oh no fuckin' way."

"Tell anyone and I won't eat you out for a month," Swiss threatens, but Dew's too busy enjoying the sizeable wet spot beneath his hand to care.

"We're ba-ack!" Cumulus calls once they're in earshot, and Dew gives Swiss a squeeze before he pulls back. Licks at his palm while Sunshine loads up the trunk, just to make the other ghoul suffer a little bit more. The back doors swing open and the girls slide inside. "You boys have fun without us?"

"Oh, Lus," Dew tells her, rifling through the cassettes in the glove box with the tang of Swiss still coating his tongue. "You have no idea."

[kroosluvr]

yay!!!!!!!

typo that im too lazy to fix: on the last page, "kasumi was one of the best gymnasts [in japan]"

edit: BRO I IDDNT REALIZE AKIRA ND SUMIRE WERE SHARING A SPOON TO EAT THE CURRY AM I INSANEEEEE <- She literally drew this image

1st 2 pics are genderbent akira+goro as well as sumire, 3rd pic is canon akira and sumire

in my head m!sumire is dedicated to rhythmic gymnastics, but the fact that it's not a popular sport somehow causes a mental block for him: kasumi was a trailblazer in men's rhythmic gymnastics. he was setting the course, but now he's gone. so does sumire live up to that? does he have to fill his brother's shoes? or can he just strive to be the best rhythmic gymnast he himself can be?

he was always solemn and driven growing up, but after the accident, he drove himself further into his practices and routines in an attempt to "recapture the spark" that kasumi had. of course, this is mostly in vain... chasing his shadow doesn't get him anywhere

he slowly develops the cognition of "sumire" being "kasumi's replacement." the younger brother that stepped up to the plate. to attend to his anxiety/depression he goes to dr. maruki (i'd say this takes longer than in canon, because he was always so busy with practice that he didn't really. comprehend 'oh perhaps i need counseling after my brother died' LMAO. and even then it's more "ok im gonna start competing internationally, so i need to make sure my mental is in tiptop shape"

he starts to reveal his insecurities to dr. maruki who. yknow. does all that. i don't think this sumire would specifically say "i wish i was kasumi" but more "i want to continue his legacy the way only he could have done it" which dr. maruki himself takes as "ok so u want to literally be kasumi"

i'd also say his "transformation" into "kasumi" is more jarring than in canon? canon "kasumi" is polite, eager, cheerful and sunny, but i imagine m!"kasumi" to be more boisterous, more outwardly outgoing/extroverted/outspoken, a little bit of a daredevil

on top of that, i think (perhaps) since men's rhythmic gymnastics isn't super popular, maybe not many ppl have heard of "kasumi yoshizawa" to begin with? so maybe ppl accept him as "kasumi" a little easier, which is. um. bad LOL

not sure if this helps his gymnastics at all. i thinkkk it does give him the confidence to execute more complicated routines that sumire himself didn't have the self-confidence to try before. but, of course, this doesn't affect anything in the rhythmic gymnastics world since. erm. everyone knows kasumi died. awkward!!!!

i think the shame would be all-encompassing when he breaks out of the delusion. he never wanted this.... all he wants is to keep competing with his brother, to keep supporting him into the limelight, and he'll never have that again. so i think, like canon, his arc is learning how to support and uplift Himself -- but more like, become more self-sufficient in terms of his own gymnastics instead of always seeing himself as second place to kasumi (and being okay with that)

it's different than canon as kasumi always told sumire they'd take the world stage... TOGETHER! ->

while i think for m!kasumi and m!sumire they worked in tandem, it was never really a dream. kasumi simply decided "i want to do this" and so did sumire. the thing is, kasumi's skills just far outweighed sumire's, and that much was painfully clear to him. kasumi was one who could bring men's rhythmic gymnastics into the international lens, and sumire has no idea if he could ever be strong enough to do that.

there's an interesting sort of dissonance here....... like. big fish small pond (genderbend au) or small fish big pond (canonverse.) i think its interesting.. okay enough rambles from me its 4am sdjsdjfh

edit: last thing i think. in canon it’s heavily implied that kasumi took the reins and pushed sumire to do stuff / pick out clothes for them both / kinda set the stage for both of them but i think in gb au sumire just follows kasumi as a result of kasumi being such a bright light. sumire has ambitions the same way kasumi does but he lacks the self-esteem to back it up…. it’s similar in canon but not 1:1 if that makes sense? i think in canon sumire is still questioning if it’s even her dream to compete in gymnastics so that’s the main diff

[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

[sleepymarimo]

𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟!

summary: you try to practice the infamous three sword style in secret and end up embarrassing yourself... pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: none! something funny and fluffy wc: 2.6k

He should've known that you were up to no good when you had talked to him earlier.

Zoro had been napping on the deck of the Sunny, on a nicely shaded patch of grass. It was a very nice day at sea- the waves were calm and the atmosphere was light. The ship was expected to dock at an island by tomorrow, and from what Robin had said, it was a place known for its boisterous shops and unique goods.

You were peeking around a corner, trying to think of the right way to approach the swordsman. Even though the crew was practically family, waking a napping Zoro was still a pretty intimidating task, not for the faint of heart. After a deep breath and a lot of mental preparation, you made your move.

Your feet treaded lightly on the grass, almost as if a single misstep would sell you out. You can feel your heartbeat pick up as you get closer, his eyes remaining shut as he sleeps. When you're finally before him, you open and close your mouth in hesitation as you try to find something to say at the last minute.

Luckily, he beats you to it. "What do you want?"

A sort of embarrassed, choked noise leaves you. The swordsman simply opens an eye and raises an annoyed brow. "Well?"

"I just, uh, wanted to ask you something." You trail off, doubting that he'd even indulge you. He still seems a tad irritated, but he doesn't shoo you away, which gives you some hope that he maybe isn't all that disturbed by your presence.

His brows furrow a bit. "What is it? I want to nap before we get to the island."

You swallow a lump of anxiety that is forming in your throat. "Well I was just wondering..." A hand comes up to scratch the back of your head as you look away, finding the vast ocean easier to gaze upon. "Is it comfortable to hold a sword in your mouth?"

...

...

It's quiet for a bit. You would have thought time stopped altogether if it weren't for some seagulls flying above the ship.

"Haaaaaaah? What kind of a question is that?" He all but barks, not expecting something so outlandish. He sits up from his comfortable napping position, a light red hue tinging his cheeks.

His reaction was not what you expected, his response making your confidence crumble. You put your hands up in a sort of defensive position, a small yelp of surprise leaving your mouth as you take a few steps back. "Wait, you don't have to answer!"

He turns his gaze to the side and clicks his tongue. "It's fine. It's... comfortable, natural to me now." His attention turns back to you, albeit a little suspiciously. "Why're ya askin'?"

It was your turn to look away, a warm sensation creeping up your neck to the tips of your ears. "I was just curious..."

The way his eyes narrow further doesn't do anything to quell your nerves. He can tell at the very least that you're not giving him the full story, but he isn't sure how hard to push. "That's all?"

You don't really trust yourself to speak, so you just nod and hope it's enough to get your vice captain off of your back. He huffs and lays back down, resting his arms up and over his head as he prepares to get back to his nap. A part of him knows you're hiding something, but he decides not to pursue it further for the sake of indulging in some shut eye.

"Good." He yawns, closing his eyes and getting back into a napping position. "Then let me sleep."

Your feet carry you away and back to the safety of your room. You don't have to be told twice...

The island is even more beautiful than you thought it was going to be. As a summer island, the weather was warm and inviting. It was vibrant and lively- even from the dock you could see an array of shops that seemed to never end. Nami calls for the crew to gather on the deck, holding Luffy by the collar so he didn't run off.

"Okay, here's the plan!" She commands, a hand on her hip while the other tightens on Luffy's shirt. "We're going to town, but one of us is going to have to stay behind to watch the ship." She eyes everyone, that intimidating gaze of hers scanning over the crew. "Any volunteers?"

As expected, no one volunteers. This island seems like a gold mine of fun, so you don't blame them. Though, this was the moment you were waiting for: to be alone on the ship.

Your hand sheepishly comes up, her eyes lighting up when she sees a volunteer.

Some of the other crew members look back at you with gratitude, thanking you for saving them from Nami's forecasted wrath. This kind of island seemed right up your alley, so for you volunteer to stay behind was a little odd.

The swordsman gives you a pointed look, but says nothing.

With everyone walking off into the distance, you breathe a sigh of relief and scramble up into the observation room. Equipment is scattered all around and your eyes light up when you see some wooden training swords propped up in the corner.

With a skip in your step, you grab one of the wooden swords and sit on the ground while examining it.

"It can't be that hard, right?" You murmured to yourself, examining the hilt. "I hope I don't get any splinters on my tongue..."

It's been a little over an hour now, your jaw only slightly sore from your attempts at wielding the wooden sword between your teeth.

You're so utterly engrossed in mastering the strange technique, that you fail to pick up on a presence approaching the observation room. When the hatch swings open and a mess of green hair pops out from underneath, you don't have time to process the situation you're in.

Your eyes widen, almost the size of saucers. The wooden hilt of the sword is still in your mouth, the weight of it making your head tilt slightly to the side. You're like a deer in headlights under a familiar, steely gaze and find yourself unable to move, briefly wondering if this was actually happening. 

"The hell are you doing?" He snaps, standing before you with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

His words pull you out of your daze and your teeth inadvertently clench on the hilt of the sword, causing your jaw to cramp. The sharp, throbbing sensation makes you let out a muffled cry of pain, the embarrassment of the situation seemingly forgotten.

Zoro's protective instincts take hold the moment he registers your discomfort. He kneels before you, his hands quickly coming up to either side of your jaw where he applies a nice pressure at the joint, just below your ear. He's all too familiar with the ache you're currently experiencing, though he hasn't felt it in quite a while.

His fingers continue to alleviate the pain, tracing small circles, and he scoffs. "This is why you don't just go and do random shit like this." He scolds, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

After your muscles finally ease, you remove the sword from your mouth and let out a sigh. Your cheeks are warm- you're sure he can feel the heat radiating from them as he lets his hands linger on the soft flesh. With a sigh, he finally pulls away and shifts from his kneeling position, sitting cross-legged in front of you.

He gives you an accusatory look, expecting you to start explaining just what in the hell you were doing. Its obvious, but he wants to hear it from you, and you know he won't drop it.

"I just wanted to try it." You murmur, stubbornly looking away from his piercing gaze.

"Try what?" He huffs, his fingers lightly tapping on the hilt of one of his swords. His tone contains a mixture of both smugness and annoyance. "Speak up."

A series of embarrassed grumbles spill past your lips, your voice more clear and firm. "I wanted to try the Three Sword Style."

You focus your attention on the floor. The silence would be deafening if it weren't for the soft crashes of waves and the buzz of the town off in the distance.

A sigh of resignation from Zoro's mouth cuts through all of that, his words making you look up at him in surprise.

"One lesson." He says, crossing his arms. If he's at all flustered by the situation, he does a good job of hiding it behind a stern expression. "Only so you don't break your jaw next time you decide to sneak off and play with wooden swords."

The two of you have been at it for a solid thirty minutes. Even though he hasn't gone over an insane amount of material, he makes you repeat each motion until he's deemed it adequate. For better or for worse, he trains you as he trains himself.

"You're biting too close to the hand guard." He notes, his eyes narrowing as he observes your form. "It'll make it harder to balance, even if it seems like it's more stable."

Your 'okay' is muffled, murmured through the wooden hilt in your mouth. Taking the sword out from between your teeth, you take a moment to swallow before placing it back in your mouth and correcting yourself. You hadn't realized how exhausting this style was...

You'd lost count of how many times your tongue swiped past your dry lips, how many times you'd swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth after holding the blade for too long... But, you wanted to learn and there was no backing out now.

His gaze, though initially intense, is something you'd grown accustomed to.

A thoughtful hum, low and rumbling, is heard from him as he observes you once more. Leaning forward from his seated position, he makes sure to get a view of all angles, the slight creasing of his forehead letting you know that there was something he wasn't liking.

"You're not applying the right pressure." He determines, leaning back and crossing his arms.

The look you give him is equal parts apologetic and exasperated. When you speak, it's a jumbled mess that he can't quite comprehend.

A vein ticks on his forehead in mild irritation, though he is partially amused. "Take it out of your mouth, stupid."

Your grumbled response is just as muffled and you use all of your willpower to not huff at him. As soon as the hilt is out of your mouth, you get in a nice breath of air before addressing his comment. "What's wrong with my pressure?"

He uncrosses his arms, one hand falling to his lap while the other absentmindedly runs over his chin. "Well when you're actually attacking, you wanna have as much pressure applied as you can. Right now, if you're just holding it, you don't need all...that."

When he nods his head towards your wooden training sword, you're almost mortified to see the extent of the bite marks left on the hilt. Your face is hot as you bring it closer and examine it, seeing his point.

"Okay, okay, I guess I'm going too hard." You admit, glancing at the hilt before meeting his gaze once more. "How do I know what the right pressure is?"

He takes a moment to ponder your question, his usual gruff demeanor fading as he recalls how he dealt with that same issue all those years ago. It was mostly trial and error, since the style was one of his own design, but he didn't want you to go through all of that. However, he couldn't exactly show you either, since you wouldn't be able to discern the amount of pressure he was using just from a glance.

An idea pops into his head. It's simple and straightforward enough, he thinks. Practical.

He extends his right hand towards you, almost like he's going to give you a handshake, until he lifts it so that it settles right in front of your face.

"Here." His expression and tone are much too nonchalant. "Bite. I can tell what pressure is good."

You want to laugh at first, tell him that he's a jokester under all that seriousness, but the way he's looking at you, the way he genuinely wants to help you master the technique, leaves you momentarily stunned.

It's clear that he means business, his brows furrowing slightly when you stare at him with dumbfounded eyes. "Well?" He huffs, slightly impatient.

"I- okay." You relent, a whirlwind of thoughts in your head as you lean forward and comply with his instructions.

Your teeth bite gently on the flesh of his thumb and he adjusts his hand to grant you easier access, the rest of his fingers curling just under your chin to help hold your head upright. Swallowing, you increase the pressure and, though you're fairly positive that it feels like nothing to him, you're hesitant to bite down with more force.

He seems to sense your reluctance and lets out a small growl, before instructing you again. "Harder."

It's all a bit too much for you, but you comply, unable to tear your gaze from his as your teeth bite into his skin. You wonder if he can feel the warmth radiating from you, growing in intensity with every increase in force you apply.

His eyes hold a mixture of emotions and its only due the mere fact that you're so close to him that you can discern them. There's an immense focus, an unrelenting determination and something ever so soft that you've never seen before. You only catch a brief glimpse of it before it disappears, replaced by a glint of approval and a hint of pride.

"There." He nods his head. "That's the pressure I want."

When you open your mouth and release his appendage from between your teeth, he takes a moment to glance over the bite marks you left behind. He grunts in satisfaction, turning his attention to you once more and handing you another wooden training sword for you to practice with.

Its almost half an hour later when you finally call it quits, the muscles in your jaw unable to keep up.

His hands are on you again, rubbing those same small circles into your flesh in a bid to sooth the aches that came with such training. A part of him is impressed that you held out for so long, though he knew you were stubborn like him, unwilling to back down even though your soul just about left your body when he caught you.

He's... flattered that you admire him enough to want to practice his style, though he wouldn't openly say so.

You look up at him, reveling in the warmth of his hands and the healing that they bring to your sore jaw. "Thank you." You murmur, your tone soft and sincere.

He can't bear to look you in the eyes, instead diverting his attention to a corner of the room. A warmth blooms in his chest and he sighs at the unfamiliar sensation, brows furrowing as his own bullheadedness makes him refuse to acknowledge it's implications.

His eyes manage to find their way back to yours, reflecting both wariness and an undeniable curiosity. He did say only one lesson, but...

"We can practice some more tomorrow."

[cnnmairoll]

OMG could I have the love bites prompt but with Sampo and Dan Heng 🥺🥺🥺🩷

Bites of Affection

Character(s) : Sampo Koski, Dan Heng

Genre : Fluff

a/n : Here you go Vi!! Hope this is to your liking! ^_^

You couldn't help it; your love language was biting. Not the kind that left marks or caused pain, but the playful nips and nibbles that you showered your beloved Sampo with. It was a habit you had developed over time, one that seemed to bring joy and amusement to your relationship.

Sampo, the silver-tongued salesman with a flair for theatrics, initially reacted to your nibbling with sheer dramatics. The first time you planted a soft bite on his arm, he clutched his chest and staggered back as if you had wounded him.

"Oh, the agony!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with mock pain. "My dearest, do you intend to devour me limb by limb?"

You giggled at his antics, unable to resist the urge to give him another playful nip. "Only if you taste as good as you look."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, my love, I suppose I must prepare for the most delicious demise."

From that day forward, it became a delightful routine. Whenever you were together, you couldn't resist stealing a quick bite, and Sampo, always the showman, played along.

One sunny morning, as you both sat in the garden, Sampo was engrossed in his book. You saw the perfect opportunity and gently nipped his shoulder.

Sampo let out an exaggerated gasp, his book falling to the ground. "Oh, the treachery! I've been ambushed in broad daylight!"

You laughed, leaning in to give him another bite. "Consider it a love ambush, my dear."

Sampo captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I surrender to your love, my mischievous bandit."

As the days went by, Sampo began to anticipate your bites, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. He'd playfully present his arm, offering it up for your affectionate nibbles.

One evening, you shared a quiet moment by the fireplace, cuddled up together. You couldn't resist the temptation and leaned in to nip his cheek.

Sampo grinned, his hand running through your hair. "Ah, my little love bandit strikes again. I should hire you as my personal nibbler."

You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his cheek to soothe the imaginary wound. "I'd gladly take the job."

But it wasn't just during quiet moments that you indulged in your love language. Even during Sampo's boisterous gatherings and parties, you'd find a moment to sneak in a playful bite.

At one particularly lively soirée, you nipped his wrist while he was in the middle of a story, causing him to momentarily falter. "And then, my friends, the chicken—" he paused, looking at you with a smirk, "decided to take a bite out of the merchant."

The room erupted in laughter, and Sampo took a theatrical bow. "I am but a humble feast for my love's insatiable appetite."

Your playful bites became a symbol of your love, a secret language that only the two of you understood. It was a reminder of the joy and laughter you brought into each other's lives.

As the night grew darker and the party continued, Sampo pulled you close, whispering in your ear, "My love, if you keep biting me like this, I might just become addicted to your love."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "And what a delightful addiction that would be."

You've been traveling with Dan Heng and the rest of the Astral Express crew for some time now. Your relationship with Dan Heng had grown stronger, despite his initial cold and reserved demeanor. But there was something about your love language that continued to baffle him – your penchant for biting.

It all began one evening in the common area of the ship. You were sitting together on a comfortable couch, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm as you engaged in casual conversation. Without warning, you leaned in and playfully nipped at his shoulder. Dan Heng tensed up, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Did you just… bite me?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, I did. It's just my way of showing affection."

Dan Heng blinked a few times, clearly trying to process this new information. "Biting as an expression of affection? That's… unusual."

You couldn't help but laugh at his perplexed expression. "I know, it's a bit unconventional. But it's how I feel close to someone. Trust me, it's harmless."

Over the next few weeks, you continued to indulge in your love language. Soft bites on his arm when you cuddled, a playful nibble on his ear during movie nights, and even a gentle nip on his neck when you wanted to show just how much you cared. Dan Heng, ever the stoic one, gradually grew accustomed to your unique way of expressing love.

One evening, as you both watch the stars through the windows of the Astral Express, you lean over and gently nibble his earlobe. Dan Heng doesn't pull away this time; instead, he chuckles softly.

"You know," he began, "I never thought I'd say this, but I've grown quite fond of your biting."

You grinned in response, feeling a warm surge of happiness. "I knew you'd come around eventually, my dear."

Dan Heng wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I suppose it's your way of keeping me on my toes," he teased.

"Exactly," you replied, leaning in to steal a sweet kiss from his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You really are something, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with fondness.

You smile up at him, your heart warmed by his reaction. "Just trying to make you smile," you reply.

Dan Heng leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips. "You do that every day," he says, his eyes locked onto yours.

From that moment on, Dan Heng not only accepted your love language of biting but also started to reciprocate in his own way. He'd surprise you with gentle nips and nibbles, a silent testament to how much you meant to him. In the quiet moments of the Astral Express, your love continued to grow, one bite at a time.

[licorice-tea]

Don’t Fall In Love With Me (Yet) Pt. 3

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: reader wears a bathing suit (bikini top, shirtless, etc not specified!!!), a tiny amount of cursing, jealousy, a little hurt/comfort, gn reader, strawhat reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: hey guys! sorry i’ve been sort of MIA for a few days, just got really busy and things. but, i finally had the time and energy to write today! law wants the reader so bad if you can’t tell… but he’s like waiting bc he’s unsure of how to the whole relationship, but like he’s learning!!! and they’re growing together!! so i hope you enjoy <3 (comment to be tagged in future parts!!!)

Part 2

It’s not uncommon for people to fall overboard on the Thousand Sunny. And by people, you mean Luffy, Chopper, and Brook. How was it that three out of the five devil fruit users currently on board were so clumsy? You weren’t quite sure, but it was something all the crew was accustomed to and therefore knew to watch out for.

On this occasion, it’s a Chopper who’s managed to be knocked into the sea below.

“Chopper, watch out!” Zoro calls to the young doctor, but it’s too late. He’s hit head on by a wooden plank under Franky’s arm. As the cyborg spins around in turning directions, he knocks the poor reindeer overboard.

“Shit! Quick, somebody go get him!” Nami commands.

You’re already stripping off your shirt and shoes (you’re wearing a bathing suit underneath, of course) as you run to the side of the ship. “On it!” The entire crew follows after you while Chopper is still falling, not even in the water yet. Your hands are on the railing ready to jump over, when you hear; “Room, Shambles” along with the sudden absence of Chopper’s scream. Sanji holds you back at the last second and helps you back down to the deck when you all realize; he’s back on the deck. The rest of your friends rush back to the center of the deck, where Chopper seems to be safe and sound. He clings on to his savior, Law’s leg, gasping and still catching his breath after his brush with death.

You and Sanji run to join the others, who are surrounding the youngest crewmates with hugs and crying. (You’re a very emotional group of people, after all.) Meanwhile, Law stands with his arms crossed off to the side. You run to him, instead, wrapping your arms around his neck in a brief hug.

“Thank you, Law.”

You could swear that you see a smile pass over his features before he coughs and shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”

Laws hands remain on your hips after you’ve pulled back, and yours are still resting on his shoulders. You smile at him, and he wants nothing more than to just take your jaw in his hand and kiss you. The skin to skin contact from you being stripped down to your swimwear, and him shirtless as per usual, causes his cheeks and ears to flush a rosy hue.

Unfortunately, your rare, tender moment is disrupted by a low whistle, followed by teasing remarks and laughter. How could he have forgotten that your crew- your very obnoxious, childish, silly crew- is standing just feet away? Sure, you might not mind being so openly affectionate around them, but he does! So, with extreme awkwardness, he releases you and steps backwards.

*Ahem… I, uh…”

“They’re only, teasing, Law.” You laugh along with your friends.

He watches as you bound away from him and into the arms of your crewmates, playfully pushing them away as they sing some ridiculous song; “Law and y/n, sitting in a tree…” Even though you’re telling them off, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at how naturally you fit in with all of them. How easily they make you smile and laugh- had you ever looked so happy in front of him? The whole ordeal makes him feel self conscious. “I could never make you as happy as your crew does,” he thinks. “And you would never leave them for me.”

That’s enough for him to storm off, too annoyed to even wave “bye.” Of course, you take notice of this. Surrounded by people a thousand times more boisterous than him, your eyes still remain drawn to his figure. You excuse yourself from the others and follow Law, calling after him.

“Law! Wait up!”

There’s evident surprise in his expression when he turns back. He pauses for you to catch up with him in a narrow corridor below deck, while you slip your shirt back over your head. “What is it?”

You quirk a brow- his tone is colder than it usually is (with you, at least.) Had the jokes from your fellow Strawhats really bothered him so much? “Uh… nothing, I just want to go with you.”

He hums and continues walking. “I’m not doing anything very fun. Just going to study.”

With a shrug, you continue following him. “Then I’ll catch up on my reading, too.”

When Law stops suddenly and turns to face you once more, you nearly bump into his chest. “You don’t have to coddle me, y/n.”

“…What?”

“Go have fun with your friends, I’m fine.”

“What are you talking about? They were just kidding about us, Law, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“That-That’s not what I’m talking about! You don’t have to follow me around and pretend like you enjoy being around me when it’s so obvious how much you love being with your crew.”

“Is that why you’re upset? You’re jealous because I love my crew?”

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t like being pitied.”

“I don’t pity you, Law. We’re friends- isn’t that a good enough reason to want to be around you?”

“I don’t believe you.”

You scoff. Sometimes, you forget how sensitive his ego is. “Well, it’s true.”

“Don’t lie to-“

“I’m not lying! God, why is it so hard to believe that I enjoy being with you? That I like you?”

He goes silent, and you stare at each other- both with fierce determination in your eyes.

“I know that you don’t always get along with them… and you’re different from them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, you know.”

“Well, you look really happy with them.”

“I’m happy with you, too.”

At that moment, Sanji rings the lunch bell, and Luffy and Usopp dash through the hall between you and Law. Usopp shouts, “Out of the way, lovebirds!” and you can’t help but giggle despite being in the midst of some sort of argument.

Law nods in their direction. “Go have fun.”

But, before he can walk away, you grab his hand. “Not without you.”

He would scowl if he weren’t so caught off guard by the feeling of your hand around his. With some grumbled reply, he complies, and trails after you all the way to the kitchen/dining room for lunch.

When you walk in and take your seat at the table, food is already being served. Law is right behind you (as he often is nowadays), so nobody pays the two of you much mind for being a little late. Sanji finishes serving everyone their plates, and the chatter begins to flow naturally once you’ve all taken the first bites of his delicious food. Law loosens up a little after a few minutes- it’s hard to stay angry when you eat Sanji’s food, after all. He makes a comment under his breath, hoping to clear the air between the two of you.

“This is nice.” You think he’s stating the obvious- Sanji’s food is always nice- as some cheap shot at an apology for his standoffish behavior. Then he adds, “Good food, too.” Law hopes that you’ll understand what he’s trying to say; “I don’t hate your friends, and I’m going to be better at getting along with them, for you.”

Luckily, your ability to read between the lines makes up for the lack of clarity in his apology. It still brings a bright smile to your face though, which grows into a grin after you reply. “It is, isn’t it?”

He simply smiles back at you and nods, a weight taken off his shoulders at the assurance you’re no longer at odds with him.

Robin takes notice of the quiet exchange, and decided to poke fun in her usual eerily-observant way; “You seem to be adept at making y/n smile, Law.”

Nami agrees, and adds on to the teasing; “Awww look! They have hearts in their eyes!”

Law’s cheeks flush as you launch into animated banter with Nami, but he still smiles to himself as he eats. Maybe it’s not so bad, learning to fit into your life alongside your crew family. The archeologist and navigator are right that you do seem especially happy around him, he had just been too preoccupied with how that happiness compares to the way you are with them. Still, it seems they had all taken notice of the increasingly obvious affection growing between the two of you. So, Law would learn to be more accommodating of your people- and to be less jealous (not that he ever was jealous, that’s just silly), rather than force you to favor one or the other.

After all, they were rooting for his relationship with you just as much as he was.

[stargazedwinchester]

And You Are? | Dean

Summary: You enjoy a night at the bar with your friend, who is certain someone’s trying to flirt with you.

Based on this request here! Thank you! :)

Y/F/N: Your friends name

Y/D/N: Your dogs name

Word count: 1,161

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It's not unusual for you to go out with your friends once in a while. The occasion this time is because you've holed yourself up in your house for 'far too long' according to Y/F/N, who has basically forced you out of the house for some fresh air.

Leading up to the bar, you could tell it was a dingy, cheap place just from how rowdy the men are, and the sound of glasses smashing and people cheering. What's up with that?

"You wanna sit at the bar?" Your friend says, scanning the whole place for somewhere to sit. "If it's best, yeah, it's quite full," You say. The place was packed full of sweaty boisterous bodies, you make your way over to the bar, finding a single stool to sit on. Your friend stood next to you. The both of you ordered your drinks and eventually someone moved, so your friend sat opposite you.

"Hey," She says, nodding at something behind you. "There's a guy, 6 o'clock, has really keen eyes," She says, and you turn around, scanning the room for said 'guy'. "Honestly, I wouldn't even know who you're talking about. There's that many people in here it's almost impossible. Plus, Y/F/N, I am blind." You chuckle, and she facepalms. She reaches down and pets Y/D/N. "Sorry, Y/N. I forget." A smile creeps on your face as you take another drink.

"No, but seriously, this guy is checking you out. If you don't want him, I'll have him." She laughs, showing him a quick smile before taking a sip. You take one last search around, feeling the contact like there are eyes burning right through the back of your skull. "Oh my God, he's coming over." She panics, darting her eyes from you to the handsome 6 foot something guy making his way over. She picks up her drink and downs the rest of it, waving for another round to be sent over.

"Hey, ladies, can I buy either of you a drink?" A deep voice appears from the heavy sounds of the bar. He looks down at you, showing you a warm, friendly smile. His hair short and dark, wearing a dark green unbuttoned over-shirt and a light blue/grey t-shirt underneath paired with some black jeans. His eyes are dreamy, a lovely shade of shiny green, speckles of sunny hazel compliments his dark exterior. Whether his appearance matches his personality, you're almost eager to find out.

"We're fine, thanks. Y/F/N has just ordered a couple more," You start, pointing to the empty glasses in front of you. He holds a glass half full of what seems to be beer, which wouldn't be to your surprise. "There's no harm in ordering more!" Y/F/N laughs, accepting the round of drinks from the bartender, sliding yours across to you. "Here, Y/N. That ones yours." She says, taking a sip of hers. "Oh, Y/N, right? It's nice to meet you, I'm Dean." He holds his hand out, and you grant him a pleasant smile, shuffling in your seat. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

He awkwardly moves his hand away, placing it back in his pocket. "It's nice to meet you too, Y/F/N. I hope I'm not intruding..." He trails, hoping to hear 'no' as an answer. "No, Dean, don't worry about it. We're only out for a couple of drinks then heading back home. She forced me out of my own house." You chuckle, and Y/F/N rolls her eyes. "She's refusing to leave her bed, so I've had to practically drag her by the ears to get her here."

Dean laughs, bringing his drink to his lips. "To be honest, it's not a great place here. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to get out and go someplace else?" He suggests, and you snort. "There's no way in Hell I'm leaving this place with some guy I've met 5 minutes ago, I'll pass." You say, waving your hand at him. Dean holds his hand to his heart, scrunching his shirt. "Some guy? Most ladies are dying to take me home after 5 minutes!" He jokes, and it doesn't fly too well with you.

"Okay, wow, and now he's assuming." You feel a smile creep up, unable to keep it under wraps. "Hate to say it, but I'm not like other girls," You state, silently laughing to yourself.

"I can tell you are," He says, and you tilt your head. "What?"

"I said I can tell you are." He speaks louder, moving closer to your ear. You get a whiff of his cologne, woodsy, musky and sexy. Your eyes lit up as if something inside you has awoken, you've never smelt anything like it. Now you have to know who this man is and what he's about.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

After a small while of talking, Y/F/N found a different guy she could keep her eyes on and left both you and Dean alone. "To be honest, I'm done. Now Y/F/N has disappeared I feel like I don't have to force these drinks down me," You laugh, "You wanna go sit outside?" You ask Dean, and he nods "Yeah, let's go." He says, he shuffles out of the way to make room for you to get off of the stool. You pull out your cane and take Y/D/N leash, and Dean looks shocked. "Y/N, sorry for not noticing, but you're blind?" He questions, a confused look on his face. "Yeah, you didn't see?"

"Honestly? No, I didn't." He says, and you fold your cane back up. "Well, good, cause that means I can do this," You say, gently placing your hand in his. "Lead the way."

You head outside onto a bench out by the doorway, and you both sit down.

“I cannot believe you kept so quiet about this,” he starts, looking at you with a warm grin. His sudden interest in still wanting to get to know you really makes you wonder if he’s actually worth spending your time with. Dean seems like a really lovely guy, even with all the micro-flirting that’s been happening all night. Not that you’d complain, though, it’s nice to have recognition from such a charming, handsome man.

“I felt like it wasn’t something to mention,” you nod, “plus, I thought Y/D/N hi-vis vest was enough.” You laugh, and Dean nods. “That’s true, I guess I just had my eyes set on someone else.” He rasps, taking the last swig of his drink, before setting the glass on the patio floor. You grew tired, the night getting darker and longer made you crave your own comfort in your own home. Dean isn’t keeping you, yet he gets the hint. The conversation slowly grew quiet, as you both sat and and enjoyed each others company for a while longer.

“You know, I’d thought I’d change and be a gentleman for tonight, but screw it. You wanna come home with me?” He asks, seriousness in his voice.

“Thank God, I thought you’d never ask.”

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Hi! Hope you're doing well! If requests are still open, could I request a reader pairing for Alfie Solomons please?

A basic outline idea is that reader and Alfie meet at different moments in their lives, just crossing paths (they even meet during the war) but it's always as passing ships. They don't entirely come together until they both end up in Camden, some time after the war and it just seems as if the universe was finally ready to have them come into contact with the other. And when they do, it's like they've lived a thousand lifetimes with the other already. My apologies if none of this makes sense 😅. Basically, Alfie and reader have almost meetings, they run in similar situations throughout their lives but have never come close enough to actually come into contact with the other properly. Even during the war, it would be passing glances but time would seem to stand still, and both would feel as if they'd missed something important but could never place what it was. Then a fateful day they finally properly meet/see eachother.

Thank you and no pressure!

- 🥀

Destiny - Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Warnings: mention of war injuries (minor injuries)

Summary: the request

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, whenever I see your 🥀, it really does make me smile. I really hope I did your request justice because it sounded so fucking cute! 💚

On a rare sunny day in the heart of London, a golden warmth bathed the city, casting an unfamiliar but welcome glow over its bustling streets. Seizing the opportunity to revel in this unusual weather, Y/n found themselves at a pub with their family. The pub exuded a comforting charm, its walls steeped in the echoes of shared laughter and the clinking of glasses. The ambience mingled with the gentle hum of animated conversations, creating a backdrop for the familial celebration.

Around a rustic wooden table, Y/n's family gathered, their smiles illuminated by the soft sunlight streaming through the pub's windows. The clatter of cutlery and the rich aroma of hearty pub fare filled the air as they shared stories, laughter, and the joyous spirit of the day. 

As the calm atmosphere of the pub was momentarily disrupted by the boisterous entrance of a group of men, their laughter echoing through the space, an undeniable ripple of disturbance coursed through the patrons. The men, seemingly impervious to the annoance they stirred, found their way to a booth in the back, claiming it with an air of careless possession. The ambient noise level rose, but the pub's occupants, though mildly irked, continued with their conversations and revelry, determined not to let the intrusion dampen the celebratory mood.

Y/n's gaze was strangely drawn to the rowdy group, and in particular, to one man who stood out amidst the chaos. It wasn't until he glanced up that Y/n found themselves ensnared in a trance. His eyes, pools of indescribable beauty, held a captivating allure that defied explanation. The man felt oddly familiar, but Y/n knew they had never met before. The connection was visceral, mutual even, as if the currents of destiny had momentarily aligned. The pub's commotion faded into the background, and in that suspended moment, neither Y/n nor the mysterious man seemed willing to break the enchantment. 

Y/n's immersion in the captivating gaze was abruptly interrupted by a gentle nudge from their mother, a subtle reminder that life outside the spellbinding moment carried on. Reluctantly tearing their eyes away, Y/n found the mysterious man looking elsewhere as well, as if the enchantment had been momentarily broken. The air between them hung with a charged tension, the unspoken connection lingering even as they both redirected their attention to the surroundings.

Throughout the night, stolen glances and shared glimmers of curiosity went back and forth. Y/n couldn't resist stealing moments to look in the man's direction, finding him reciprocating the silent exchange. The pub buzzed with life around them, yet in their mutual acknowledgment, a subtle understanding seemed to blossom. Each stolen glance held the promise of a conversation left unspoken, a connection suspended in the uncharted territory of the unsaid.

Despite the magnetic pull drawing them together, neither Y/n nor the mysterious man took the initiative to bridge the gap that separated them physically. The unspoken language of glances painted an intricate picture of shared curiosity and intrigue, leaving the possibility of interaction hanging in the air like an unresolved chord, waiting for the right moment to resonate. 

Leaving the pub with the echoes of laughter and clinking glasses behind them, Y/n couldn't resist stealing one last glance back at the mysterious man. To their surprise, his eyes were fixed on Y/n, an unmistakable connection sparking once again. It felt as if the moment hung in suspended animation, teetering on the brink of something unspoken. The man, seemingly on the verge of standing, was sidetracked by a friend handing him a drink. The mutual yearning lingered in the air, leaving both parties with a sense of unfulfilled potential. As Y/n and their family ventured into the London night, the unexplored possibilities of that chance encounter reverberated, a silent promise awaiting the right chapter to unfold in the tapestry of their lives.

-

Prior to the outbreak of the war, Y/n was acquainted with the sight of blood and the severity of injuries, yet nothing could prepare them for the overwhelming influx that ensued. As the conflict raged on, hospital ships became both a haven and a battlefield, with wounded soldiers arriving in escalating numbers each day. Y/n, undeterred by the relentless tide, navigated the crowded rooms with unwavering determination.

Their days were a blur of urgent activity, swiftly moving from one patient to the next, frantically gathering the necessary equipment to staunch the wounds and offer solace to the men in their care. The wartime hospital became both a crucible of suffering and a testament to Y/n's unyielding commitment to alleviating the agony of those who had sacrificed so much on the front lines.

In the midst of the chaotic triage, Y/n found themself attending to an unconscious soldier, their hands swift and sure as they worked to staunch an open wound on his thigh. Amidst the urgency, another nurse hurried over, seeking an assessment of the wounded man's condition. "How is he looking?" the nurse inquired anxiously.

"Fine, who's asking?" Y/n responded, their focus unwavering as they continued to tend to the injured soldier's wounds.

"A captain," the nurse replied, her voice betraying a sense of urgency and concern. "He's asking as a friend. He's sitting over there, a minor gunshot wound," she added, gesturing towards a nearby bed.

Y/n's gaze followed the nurse's gesture, landing on a man with a captain's insignia, his stomach wrapped in the telltale bandages that marked the aftermath of battle. The captain's steely stare met Y/n's, and an unspoken connection seemed to crackle between them. Neither could look away, caught in a momentary trance that transcended the cacophony of the hospital around them. The gravity of war and the shared intensity of their gaze created a bond that lingered, casting an unexpected spell amidst the relentless turmoil of the medical bay.

The captivating intensity of the captain's gaze held Y/n in a trance, an allure that seemed to echo with familiarity, as if the threads of destiny were weaving them together. Y/n hesitated to tear their eyes away, drawn into the magnetic pull. With an almost reluctant detachment, Y/n finally shifted their attention back to the unconscious soldier, continuing to wrap up his wounded leg. Tending to the injured man served as a grounding force, a brief respite from the magnetic connection with the captain.

"You can tell the man he's fine," Y/n spoke to the nurse, their voice carrying a subtle hint of distraction. "Only a small wound, passed out from shock more than anything."

The nurse nodded in acknowledgment and retraced her steps towards the captain. Y/n observed from the periphery as the nurse relayed the reassuring news, yet the captain's gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on them. It was as if an invisible force bound them together, an unspoken understanding that transcended the chaos of war and the confines of their roles in the medical bay. 

-

It had been a year since the war ended, and Y/n found themselves settling into a life that bore the marks of both resilience and recovery. The echoes of the battlefield had gradually faded, replaced by a newfound sense of normalcy. Y/n's days were no longer punctuated by the urgent chaos of wartime nursing; instead, they had transitioned into a semblance of tranquility.

Life, now, seemed to unfold in a gentle rhythm, allowing space for personal growth and the pursuit of newfound joys. The city around them had also transformed, shedding the somber shadows of war for the vibrant hues of a world that was rebuilding. Yet, even in this period of respite, a subtle restlessness lingered in Y/n's heart, as if an unspoken chapter awaited them, destined to be written.

Settling into Camden town after the war, Y/n discovered that the post-war reality was a maze of both opportunities and challenges. The once-booming demand for military nurses had dwindled, leaving Y/n in the throes of a job market that offered little solace. The skills acquired on the battlefield, while invaluable in the context of wartime, now seemed displaced in a society that was seeking a different kind of healing.

Today, Y/n was trying their chances at a secretary job their cousin had told them about. Y/n knew the work was dodgy, but didn’t have many options at this point. Y/n knew little about the job they were potentially applying for but was more than willing to try anything.

Walking into what they believed to be a bakery, Y/n was taken aback by the unexpected scent of alcohol that permeated the air. Led through the establishment by their cousin James, they were stopped outside what seemed to be an office by a tall, slender man. James, with an air of familiarity, introduced Y/n to the man.

"Hello, Ollie. This is my cousin, and they're interested in applying as a secretary," James stated, prompting Ollie to cast a discerning glance at Y/n.

"Previous jobs?" Ollie asked.

"I served as a nurse in the war, but I'm quite good in typing and desperately need a job," Y/n replied, their eagerness to transition evident.

Ollie paused, looking them up and down for a moment before nodding thoughtfully and gesturing for them to step forward. The office door swung open, revealing another man inside.

"Someone's just come in for the secretary job, Alfie," Ollie informed the man at the desk, introducing Y/n.

The man, Alfie, looked up from the files in front of him, his gaze meeting Y/n's. And like that, the world stopped. This time, they knew they’ve met before, or at least seen one another. It was a gaze neither could forget. Alfie stood from his seat immediately, not believing what he was seeing. It had to be destiny. God had truly blessed them. 

"Fuck off, Ollie," Alfie dismissed his employee, his attention undiverted from Y/n, who stood in the doorway.

Ollie, sensing an unexpected tension in the air, made a swift exit, leaving Y/n alone with Alfie. The atmosphere in the room crackled with unspoken energy, and Alfie's gaze held a familiarity that defied the boundaries of a typical job interview.

In that moment, Y/n struggled to understand the depth of their connection. It felt as though they had known Alfie longer than the years they had lived. It was a sensation that transcended mere memories; it was an inexplicable understanding that time had woven their stories together in a tapestry that stretched across lifetimes. The air in the room seemed to hold the echoes of their shared history, and the serendipity of their reunion resonated with a familiarity that defied logic.

As Y/n looked at Alfie, it became clear that their paths had been intricately entwined long before they found themselves in the present moment. The laughter, the glances, the missed opportunities—all of it seemed like chapters in a story that had been unfolding over the course of lifetimes, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. The ordinary office, with its scent of alcohol and the weight of job interviews, now felt like a stage where the drama of their shared history was about to unfold in unexpected and extraordinary ways.

"You... I know you," Alfie finally spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of recognition and intrigue.

"You were a captain in the war," Y/n acknowledged, the shared history connecting them now laid bare.

"And you were a nurse.." Alfie completed the sentence, the weight of the past settling in the room like a silent revelation. 

The air hung heavy with the unspoken, as if the universe had conspired once again to bring them together, this time not as passing ships but as two souls navigating the currents of post-war Camden.

"Fuck me," Alfie laughed, the realization dawning on him. "You were the one at the pub too."

"Excuse me?" Y/n questioned, a mix of confusion and surprise crossing their face.

"It was about... fuck, bit over 10 years ago, I can't fucking remember. But I ain't never forgot that face," Alfie admitted, the years falling away as the memory resurfaced.

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath, charged with the revelation that their paths had crossed long before this unexpected reunion. The threads of fate, intricately woven through time and chance, now bound them together once more. The shared moment at the pub, the stolen glances, and the unspoken connection had left an indelible mark, waiting for the chapters of their lives to unfold and intertwine in ways they could have never anticipated. In the midst of the mundane—amidst job interviews and bakery offices—the echoes of the past whispered their shared history, breathing life into a story that had taken years to unfold.

"Well, it's nice to finally fucking meet you," Alfie exclaimed, the laughter still lingering in his eyes.

"You too," Y/n replied, a genuine smile breaking across their face. The room, once filled with the tension of the unexpected reunion, now seemed to exhale, as if the universe itself was acknowledging the significance of this meeting.

The weight of years and unspoken moments hung in the air, creating a bridge between two souls who had circled each other in the dance of fate. It was more than a job interview; it was a cosmic rendezvous, a meeting that had been written in the stars long before they found themselves in this office. 

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Alfie blurted out, the words slipping from his lips before he could censor them. 

Y/n, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, felt a warm blush creeping up their cheeks.

"Uh... sorry 'bout that," Alfie mumbled, his gaze shifting downward in embarrassment. 

"Well... why don't we introduce ourselves properly then," Y/n suggested, a warm smile playing on their lips as they approached Alfie's desk.

As Y/n extended their hand, Alfie mirrored the gesture, their hands meeting in a handshake that felt like a connection stretching across time. In that simple touch, a cascade of images flooded their minds—snapshots of shared moments, fleeting glances, and a history that seemed to have unfolded in a different lifetime.

"I... I don't know how to explain this," Y/n confessed, their eyes searching Alfie's for understanding. "But I feel as if I've known you forever."

"Fuck, you felt that too?" Alfie responded, his eyebrows lifting in a mixture of surprise and recognition. 

As the pieces of their intertwined past began to fall into place, Y/n and Alfie found themselves standing at the nexus of something extraordinary, a connection that defied the boundaries of time and space.

"I suppose this is fate or something," Y/n mused, their eyes reflecting the wonder of a cosmic connection.

"Whatever it is, I'm fucking grateful for it," Alfie laughed, the sincerity in his words resonating with the inexplicable bond they shared.

Y/n returned his smile, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation playing on their lips.

"So... about that job?" Y/n asked, shifting the conversation back to the immediate present.

"Nah, you don't need no fucking job. You're with me now, yeah? I'll keep you living well," Alfie declared, his tone carrying a sense of unwavering determination.

"Oh, I can't let you do that for me," Y/n responded, a flicker of hesitation in their voice.

Alfie waved his hands dismissively. "Don't want to hear it," he said with a grin, cutting off any protest before it could fully form. 

"At least let me help you around here," Y/n suggested, not wanting to feel completely useless.

"Fine, how about you make us a nice cup of tea and tell me about yourself, hmm?" Alfie proposed, a playful glint in his eye.

Y/n's smile widened. "Of course."

As Y/n set about preparing the tea, Alfie leaned against a nearby surface, watching with a mixture of amusement and admiration. As the aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the room, Y/n joined Alfie with two steaming cups in hand. The exchange of glances between them held a silent promise of shared stories. 

In that office in Camden, the two souls realigned, as if destiny had guided them to this pivotal intersection. The gentle clinking of teacups became a melody marking the beginning of an unwritten chapter. As Y/n and Alfie exchanged sips of warmth and told tales from their past, an unspoken understanding settled between them, an unbreakable bond forged in the shared moments of laughter and revelation. In the quiet rhythm of their conversation, an implicit promise took root. Nothing could ever sever the ties that had come to bind them together. - A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this one because it just loved writing it. These babes are desperate for one another and they don't even know why, they are so cute! It's a bit shorter than I hoped for but family got me caught up and all sorts of shit, so finding the time wasn't the easiest but I'm glad I wrote it because it was truly fun for me. Thank you for reading and I look forward to more requests :) 💚

[veala2]

“ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡɪꜱʜ.”

SYNOPSIS - On New Year’s Eve, a special boy explains his wish for the new year. A new year with their perfect partner in it…

CW - gn!reader, nothing too crazy just Luffy being silly and a little questionable. I’ll just say he mentions his two true loves in the same sense.

A/N - Back from the dead, I’m striking again. So, here’s Luffy and some other boys until the end of the month!

Luffy’s is simple:

Meat and fun the whole year round!

And, y’know, becoming King of the Pirates. But he already knows that’s gonna happen and he’d rather not risk losing his first love.

Speaking of love- when it comes to you, he wishes an adventure filled life with his partner in the centre of it.

Ever since the two of you started dated, he’s always wanted one thing…

Your happiness.

“Let’s see… New year’s resolution, huh?”

You had asked him the question on New Years eve. The two of you had been sitting on the edge of the Sunny, hand in hand as you stared up at the night sky turning dark. Shining with the stars littered across.

Luffy wasn’t one to sit still and watch. He’s a ‘go, go, go!’ type of person. If it wasn’t for you, he’d party hard with the rest of the boisterous crewmates on crew. But, he sat happily with you under a perfect night sky.

“I guess more meat. Because Sanji always runs out and we need more.” He confidently says. You knew the real truth of the lack of meat on board, but you just giggled and nodded along.

“And more fun adventures! I want to explore the entire sea with my friends.” He adds. You figured he would give an answer like that.

“And… being with you. Or, actually, just making you happy.”

You turn to him in hopeful confusion. Luffy is a crazy, loud and exciting pirate to say the least. So having soft and thoughtful moments with him only come so rarely. His brown eyes gaze up to the sky. The stars bouncing off of them and making his eyes look angelic. Like the sky was taking over his entire being, his entire soul. Monkey D. Luffy truly did look out of this world.

“Happiness is something I want everyone to have, but for you it’s different. With everything we’ve been through, seeing you smile makes me feel better about where we’re going. Seeing you smile makes me feel like I have all the meat in the world, all ready to put in my mouth. Y’know?”

You didn’t exactly know, but you understood nonetheless.

“Oh yeah, Luffy. Trust me, I have an idea…” You confirmed, holding him close and giving a soft peck on his cheek and basking in the quiet and serenity of the starry night.

[violetsiren90]

The Lighthouse Keeper

~a What the Moon Saw drabble~

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; childhood friends, angst

Summary: Life moves on. The moon blooms and wilts. The tide sinks away from the sands and returns with new waters. Yoongi stays.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; drinking and drunkenness (set in a cantina); cigarette smoking; Yoongi gets hit on; longing and pining; sad Yoongi 😔; some ogling of a female character by Hoseok; reference to the death of a minor character; allusions to domestic violence; allusions to semi-homelessness; allusions to casual sexual encounters; this is just pure angst, honestly.

Word Count: ~1600

Author's Note: This has been sitting in my WIP folder, and in the wee hours of the morning last week I sat in a hospital cafeteria with the shittiest cup of coffee I've ever tasted (that I was nonetheless grateful for) and finished it up. Poor, sweet Yoongi . These two are my comfort couple and coming back to them has a way of reminding me that "nobody knows how the story ends - live the day, do what you can."*

As always, if no one has told you today, please know that you're loved, and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

*"Nobody Knows", the Lumineers

"Alright, old buddy, what's got you down?" 

     A slim, dark-haired young man slid into the booth across from Yoongi. The older man's eyes softened slightly, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile as he regarded his companion over a swig of Pacifico.

     "Who says I'm down?" he asked in a mildly affronted tone, drawing a hand over his beer-slicked lips.

     The other man's mouth broke into a toothy smile, his lips pulling into a heart-shaped grin as he let out a boisterous peal of laughter.

     "You never call these days unless you are," he rejoined, grabbing a foggy acrylic standee from the center of the table and squinting at its small list of beverages. "Geez, they really don't have much of a selection here, do they?" 

     Yoongi snorted.

     "Since when are you an alcohol connoisseur? You don't even drink, Hoba."

     "I do too!"

     A waitress sidled up to their table and slid a food menu in front of Hoseok, who trailed wide eyes up her tattooed arm to her bright blue pixie cut with a thick swallow.

     "Our mango ahi tacos are on special tonight," she hummed with a wink.

     The young man's ears flushed a bright shade of crimson as he stammered something about passing on the food but wondering if they had any ciders. She pocketed her tongue in her cheek as she flicked her eyes to Yoongi.

     "You hungry?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow and tilting a hip clad in low-slung cargo pants and a studded belt in his direction. Yoongi looked up at her and shook his head, taking another sip of beer.

     "Hm, damn shame," she hummed, flicking her eyes over him a last time before sauntering back to the bar.

     Hoseok tracked her every move with a slack jaw, craning his neck to watch her slip through the kitchen door before turning his face - features, still frozen in lascivious astonishment - back to his friend.

     "Holy shit, hyung," he murmured, covering his mouth with both hands, "You could see her nipple piercings right through her shirt!"

     Yoongi grunted in assent, trailing a cloudy gaze over the table's waxy surface as he picked at the bottle's damp label.

     "You gonna get her number?"

     "What?" Yoongi shifted in his seat, eyes refocusing on his friend.

     Hoseok sighed.

     "Nope, you're not. How long's it been, hyung?"

     Yoongi glanced down at his beer again, then raised it to his lips and drained the bottle.

     Jung Hoseok had met Yoongi the summer between freshman and sophomore year of high school. He had attached himself instantly to the older boy, an unusual experience for Yoongi, who was used to people as sunny as Hoseok steering clear of his little storm cloud. He was one of the few friends from those days that Yoongi still called up, on occasion. One of the few who knew the context of his life - the sandy paths on which he'd come of age...what he'd found there, and what he'd lost.

    "Don't, Hoba," Yoongi murmured lowly, his voice suddenly thick in his throat. 

    Hoseok hummed, lips pulled into a thin line. The waitress returned with a hard cider, a Pacifico, and a plate of nachos they hadn't ordered. While Hoseok changed shades like a chameleon on a tomato and attempted to stammer his thanks, Yoongi cast his eyes out the window.

The sun was hanging low in the sky, the gulls pushing their yellow legs from weathered wooden perches to soar beyond the edge of the pier and into the little golden space between the fading light and sparkling waters. The sandy beach stretched around the edge of a rising rockface, dappled with lush green ice plant and yellow sea asters, a few miles to the north. Around the other side of the stony promontory was a place Yoongi knew well. The shore there drew inward and curved into another swell of land as the cliff rose; near its highest stretch an old wooden stairway weaving down its face.

     Tucked away to the side of those stairs was a ledge - a few meters wide and about as deep - that jutted out as the cliff sloped down to its base. It was smooth and fairly even, nearly level with the closest steps; a perfect little hideaway barely visible from above or below. Perfect for two children to sit, huddled against the rock, as they whispered their dreams and fears; for a boy and a girl to hold each other through nights that couldn't be spent at homes far less warm and gentle than each other's arms; for a young man and woman to give themselves to one another at last and too late.

    It was where Yoongi had sat utterly broken, on the last morning of a summer ten years past, his head tilted back against the stone as he wept up to the sky, praying to any god that would listen that you would run fast and run far - that you would finally spread full your beautiful wings...that you would forget him.

    But Yoongi never forgot you. Not one word that you spoke, not one touch of your gentle fingers or your soft lips.

     He had left the ledge that day, but he had carried you with him - down the beach and back into the horrid little shack where three nights later Yoongi's father hit him for the very last time. Yoongi had carried you with him to the doorstep, as he threw the man out into the dirt. Then he had carried you with him to every couch and car and dingy apartment that served as a night's shelter until he had saved up enough for a little place of his own; had carried you around with the tools and lumber as he spent long, hot days building the tiny workshop beside it. And he had carried you, on a some miserable nights, into the beds of strangers - who, through no fault of their own, could never ever compare.

    "My dad died," Yoongi said drawing his eyes away from the window. He said it with a quiet simplicity that he seemed to embody more and more with age.

    Hoseok looked up from the plate of nachos, mouth full. He looked as if he were sorry, but didn't want to say that. Instead he got up and slid onto Yoongi's bench of the booth, gently shoving the older man over to stay flush with his side. Yoongi wouldn't usually tolerate that sort of closeness, but with Hoseok it was different. Hoseok knew.

    "How's your mom?" he asked softly.

    Yoongi nodded.

    "She's okay. She's taking it better than me, actually. Already talking about leaving."

    "Are you going to?"

"What?"

    "Leave?"

    Hoseok's voice sounded hopeful. Yoongi's right hand slipped instinctively into his jacket pocket, slender fingers curling around a little whittling knife with a pink heart painted on its handle. 

    "I don't think so, Hoba."

    The younger man sighed through his nose. He was quiet for a long moment before turning to his friend.

    "I got an offer from a high school down south. VP. I start there in the fall."

    Yoongi raised his gaze, his small smile affectionate and his eyes soft. He wouldn't let the sadness reach them - he'd learned how to push it away.

    "They'll be lucky to have you," he murmured sincerely.

    Yoongi was used to people moving on. Everyone did...everyone but him. While the world turned, Yoongi stayed.

    "Someday, you need to leave, hyung,” Hoseok urged him quietly. “She's out there somewhere living her life. She'd want you to live yours too."

    At the mention of you, Yoongi felt his heart squeeze and ten years of carrying your memory well up and into his throat.

    Hoseok clapped a hand onto Yoongi's back, and raised the cider to his lips.

Hoseok knew, but he didn’t understand. No one ever really seemed to.

    As the cantina closed its door for the night, Yoongi ushered a stumbling Hoseok into the back of a cab. 

    "You're nah coming?" the younger man slurred as Yoongi stood and moved to shut the door. 

    He shook his head.

    "Gonna walk. Goodnight, Hoba," Yoongi gave his friend a little endeared crook of his mouth before closing the cab door and tapping the back of the car as it rolled away from the pier.

    Pulling a pack of Marlboros from his pocket, he watched the cab's red taillights fade into the evening blue. Yoongi lit a cigarette and turned to walk the path that wove along the edge of the cliffs. While he walked he wondered about you. He wondered if you were safe, if you smiled and laughed. He wondered if there was someone who made your eyes sparkle and your smile shy, someone with whom you could share your joys and sorrows. Yoongi wondered if you had found a home.

      The moon had risen to meet the stars when he reached the little stairway. He gingerly descended its rungs - neglected of repair and worn with their years - until he reached it, the little ledge in the moonlight. He stepped onto its smooth surface, the lower half of the rickety railing long fallen away, and sinking down he closed his eyes.

    The full bright moon washed over him, and for a moment, Yoongi felt it understood. It had seen, after all.

It had seen the boy and the girl and what they had become for each other. It had seen you give Yoongi a home, and it had watched him, in return, teach you to fly - to fly far away.

But Yoongi carried you with him. After all, you were his home, where else would he go? As the wind whipped up off the sea and swept around him, whispering of another summer's end, the moon watched Yoongi stay another season. And if it could have seen his heart, it would have watched him go to its little window, and, as the darkness fell, light a lamp to shine out across the sea.

The moon heard Yoongi pray that you'd never return.

…It saw him stay on the chance that you might.

-Fin-

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

hc where minho gets his head stuck in one of those tight stage shirts, and instead of helping chan just tickles him, claiming he's "trying to help" LMAO

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 788

𝙖/𝙣: it has been one year since i posted my first fic, hoodie, which was also a minchan fic, so to celebrate, here's another! happy hoodie day, everyone <3

𝙩/𝙬: rough and soft tickles, minho gets stuck

𝒍𝒆𝒆: minho

𝙡𝙚𝙧: channie

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

“Whooo…” Minho sighed. “What a performance.” He groaned at the way the tight, stiff material of his shirt hugged his curves, not allowing for an ounce of breathing room. 

Chan shut the door to their hotel room behind him, fondly smiling as the dancer practically teleported to the suitcases to find something more comfortable to wear. 

“Ahhh…” Minho finally found his hoodie and sweats, immediately grabbed the hem of his shirt while Chan was searching for his sweatpants. 

Minho, desperate to get out of the stiff shirt that made his chest hurt, pulled it sharply over his head. 

Then it happened. 

“…Hyung?”

Chan turned to see what happened, just to let out a strangled laugh and hyena like cackles when Minho tugged at his arms, pinned high above his head by the shirt. 

The leader could hear a small grunt and Minho’s head popped up, hair disheveled and face slightly pink from embarrassment. "I might have been a teensy bit hasty..."

“Oh, Min…” Chan sighed, clearly amused. He walked over to the struggling dancer and traced along the shape of his pecs, causing poor Minho to squeak and stumble a little. 

Chan hissed in sympathy at the red marks along Minho’s torso, the shirt’s friction causing scarring to appear. 

He got the lotion, laying Lino down on the bed. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone. 

“Aah—HAHA Hyung p-please just get the freaking shirt ohofff!!” Minho giggled cutely, squirming as Chan massaged the lotion into his upper torso. 

“Stay still or I’ll get your armpits too.” Chan deadpanned, fondness surging in his chest as Minho turned scarlet, suddenly letting out a boisterous squeal when Chan massaged the lotion into his belly button. 

“Does it tickle, Minnie?~” Chan teased, spidering around the area as Minho thrashed and cackled his heart out. 

“HYUHUHUNG HYUNG I CAHAHAN’T MOHOHOVE!!” Minho was teary eyed already, cute smile spread wide across his red, flushed face. 

“Oh, I know. Shouldn’t have gotten yourself stuck, huh?” Chan moved his fingers, gently spidering up the bare torso in front of him, earning shrieks and high-pitched giggles from the poor dancer. 

Hands massaged the lotion gently into his armpits, and Minho screamed, legs drumming frantically behind Channie. 

“NOHOHONONO IHIT TIHIHICKLES PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!!” Minho threw his head in every direction, letting out a plethora of happy little noises that had Chan’s heart almost exploding in cute aggression. 

“You’re too cute, I really can’t take it.” Chan mused, leaning down to kiss his little kitten on the cheek. 

He decided to give the younger a break, moving to his neck instead. Tracing along the area, he relished in Minho’s whimpery, cute giggles. 

“It’s so nice isn’t it? You act so tough in front of the fans and the others, but here, I have you giggling and squealing like this…all for me…” Chan sighed contentedly. Min squeaked at the leader’s words, teary eyes looking up at Channie with almost all the love in the world. 

“But of course, there are times where I need to get you back for all the mischief you’ve caused.”

Minho’s eyes widened before all hell unleashed. 

Chan ducked his head down, blowing raspberry after raspberry onto the warm skin of the kitten’s waist and belly button, hands reaching to knead torturously into the boy’s ribs, outstretched from all the thrashing he had done. 

Minho howled, stilling to let out a deafening scream before descending into the loudest laughter Chan had ever heard from him. 

“STAHAHAHAAHAP OHO MY GOHOHOHOSHH—PLEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

His arms trembled in the shirt, tears dripping into the collar as he cackled and laughed and squealed until his throat went hoarse. 

It was torture, but it felt so nice to laugh and laugh and not think of anything but how much happiness Min felt. He could feel his mind practically melting under Channie’s fingers. 

“IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES TOO MUHUHUCHH!! HYUHUHUNG I CAHAHAHANT I CANT STAHAHAP STOP STAHAP PLEHEHEHEASE AGHH!!” Minho babbled, laughter interrupting again. He was sure this was the worst wrecking of his life, he was unable to even think straight anymore. 

Before he could even comprehend it, his shirt came loose; Channie had stopped and had pulled it properly off of him. Minho felt unrelenting sleepiness overwhelm him, giggling hysterically and panting for air. 

“You okay, kitten?” Chan asked, slipping the dancer’s once-abandoned clothes onto his boneless frame. 

“Mhm…yeheheah…” Min mumbled, an unfamiliar need for the older next to him leading to the kitten grabbing Chan’s waist and pulling him into an open hug. 

Channie smiled as Minho shyly buried his head into his chest, arms slipping under the dancer to hold his sides, warmth seeping into his body. 

“…I’ll ask them to give you looser shirts.”

“That would be for the best.”