#spotted gum decking

[rootsoutdoor]

Consider Installing Spotted Gum Decking for Outdoor Spaces to Enhance Overall Look

To begin with, renowned companies offer timber spotted gum decking to enhance overall aesthetics and maintaining durability for longer period. Further, they provide varying sizes so customers could choose according to their requirement and availability of space. It is highly recommended to install in outdoor spaces as it would create stunning effects. The timber gum decking is resistant to decay, termites and fire. According to research portals, the natural oils and dense composition will minimise warping, spilling and could withstand adverse weather conditions.

Benefits of Using Premium Quality Hardware Products:

The main purpose of using high quality bugle screws is the design. They are flat, countersunk head with slightly rounded top. Verified portals stated that these screws are commonly used in woodworking and construction applications. Moreover, the bugle head design allows the screw to sit flush or slightly below the surface of the material once it’s driven in. This helps create a smooth and even surface that is particularly important.

Basically, these screws are less likely to cause spilling or cracking of the material they are being driven into. The smooth and rounded head reduces the pressure applied to the surface, minimizing the chances of damage. Professionals also mentioned that the bugle hardware pieces are typically coarse thread that provides better holding power compared to finer threads. This makes them suitable for securing materials together more effectively.

Generally, the flat head design makes them easy to install with power tools. They are less likely to strip or slip during installation that can save time and money while avoiding unnecessary expenses. This contributes to the overall strength and durability of the assembled structure.

Perks of Buying Trusted Timber Supplies & Decking Products:

Reputed companies offer diverse categories that include decking, fencing, hardware, landscaping and sleeper.

They conduct consultation to understand client’s requirement related to timber supplies and provide tailored solutions accordingly.

In addition, they also provide bulk order and quick transportation services so you can rest assured about the products.

Overall, they provide delivery at your door steps without compromising on timber supplies quality.

If anyone wants to buy spotted gum decking products, they should enquire with the best company offering diverse range of options!

Source

[mogaiwriters]

Contemporary Exterior - Exterior An illustration of a medium-sized, modern, white, two-story exterior house design

[shiroweenie]

Decking Landscape in Sydney

This is an illustration of a sizable decked tropical backyard garden path.

[cassiearmy]

Roof Extensions Brisbane

An illustration of a medium-sized minimalist deck with an addition to the roof

[ura-okitu]

Canberra - Queanbeyan Garage Medium

Ideas for remodeling a medium-sized detached Scandinavian one-car carport

[hautevisage]

Melbourne Patio Large contemporary patio kitchen concept with decking and an addition to the roof

[scrapxrat]

Brisbane Roof Extensions Ideas for a mid-sized, contemporary deck renovation that includes a roof extension

[flemingtonmedical]

Bid Farewell to Unsightly Moles with Expert Mole Removal North Melbourne

Moles, though harmless, can often become a cause of concern for many individuals. Whether due to their appearance or potential to develop into something more serious, mole removal has become a popular choice for those seeking a flawless complexion. In Mole Removal North Melbourne, residents can access expert professionals specializing in safe and effective mole removal procedures, providing a reliable solution to these unwanted skin marks.

1. Understanding Moles and Their Impact :

 Moles are common skin growths that vary in size, shape, and color. While most moles are harmless, some may potentially become cancerous. Additionally, prominently located or aesthetically displeasing moles may affect an individual's self-confidence and overall well-being. Fortunately, residents of North Melbourne have access to skilled dermatologists who offer reliable mole removal services, ensuring peace of mind and a renewed sense of self-assurance.

2. The Importance of Professional Mole Removal : 

When it comes to mole removal, it's crucial to seek professional help rather than resorting to at-home remedies or DIY treatments. Expert dermatologists in North Melbourne possess the knowledge, experience, and equipment to safely remove moles without causing damage to the surrounding skin. By choosing professional mole removal, individuals can ensure the procedure is performed under sterile conditions, minimizing the risk of infection and scarring.

3. Advanced Techniques for Mole Removal : 

 In North Melbourne, dermatology clinics offer various advanced mole removal techniques, catering to their client's diverse needs. These methods may include surgical excision, laser mole removal, and cryotherapy. A qualified dermatologist will assess the mole during a consultation, considering its size, location, and characteristics. Based on this evaluation, they will recommend the most suitable technique, ensuring optimal results with minimal discomfort and downtime.

4. Post-Procedure Care and Follow-up : 

After mole removal, proper post-procedure care is essential to promote healing and minimize the risk of complications. Dermatologists in North Melbourne provide detailed instructions to ensure patients understand how to care for the treated area, including keeping it clean, avoiding direct sunlight, and refraining from scratching or picking at the site. Additionally, follow-up appointments are to monitor the healing process and address any concerns that may arise. This comprehensive approach to patient care ensures a positive experience and satisfactory outcomes.

Conclusion:  Unwanted moles need no longer cause worry or self-consciousness. Thanks to the expertise of dermatologists specializing in mole removal services near me individuals can bid farewell to these unsightly skin marks. By choosing professional mole removal services, they can enjoy a flawless complexion and regain their confidence, knowing their skin is safe.

[xcaetus]

Deck Roof Extensions Melbourne Large trendy backyard deck photo with a roof extension

[crappyassdrawings]

Contemporary Pool

[marca-espana]

Brisbane Covered Deck

[tenelkadjowrites]

Declaration - Hongjoong x Reader (NSFW)

🍒 Summary: On the brink of moving out of the apartment you share with your bad boy roommate, Hongjoong, you’re shocked to learn that he’s a virgin - and wants his first time to be with you.

🍒 Word count: 9k

🍒 Genre & warnings: one shot smut. roommates to lovers. mentions of smoking, drinking, physical violence. loss of virginity. dirty talk. unprotected sex. creampie. oral sex.

this fic is not meant to represent hongjoong in any way, shape or form.

                “You’re lucky we didn’t get tossed out of here.”

                “Please, the bartender loves us.”

                “Does he?”

                “Well, he loves our money.”

                The heavy sigh you emit does not go unnoticed. Hongjoong glances up from his spot in front of the sink, casting a look in your direction. In the dimly lit, run down bathroom of the shitty bar you’ve been in for the past few hours, he appears to be in his element.

                That isn’t surprising, seeing as Hongjoong and his merry band of delinquents loved to frequent spots like this, stirring up trouble and relishing it. You just wish it hadn’t been tonight, of all nights.

                “Stop moving,” Seonghwa grumbles as he wraps the bandage around Hongjoong’s knuckles.

                It is a familiar sight: the dirty bathroom, the muffled rock music, Hongjoong being patched up by Seonghwa, their heads bowed together as they examine the injury. Hongjoong’s hair is electric blue (“Gatorade hair” you like to call it to annoy him sometimes) compared to Seonghwa’s black and occasionally they are so close together their hair mingles a little like swirling paint.

                “We can’t be in here forever. Eventually, someone is gonna need the bathroom,” You point out.

                But Hongjoong doesn’t seem concerned. “Woo will take care of it.”

                You don’t doubt that, seeing as Wooyoung is standing guard just outside the door. Seonghwa releases his hold on Hongjoong’s hand, briefly admiring the patch job he did to stop the bleeding from where Hongjoong had thrown a punch, missed, and struck the wall so hard some plaster fell off. Not that it stopped him from swinging again, this time finally connecting with the jaw of the man who ran his mouth a little too much for Hongjoong’s liking.

                You cross your arms, tentatively leaning against the wall next to the door. The various flyers for bands crinkle underneath your jacket; some of them are so old that they seem to be permanent fixtures to the paint.

                “Thanks, Hwa,” He says and then jerks his head in the direction of the door, “A moment alone though, please.”

                Seonghwa shoots you a glowering look, knowing that the part of the night where you lecture Hongjoong is about to begin. As he walks past you, dressed entirely in black, his lips smacking from his chewing gum, he doesn’t break eye contact with you. This no longer phases you, entirely used to Seonghwa and his guard dog act. Making sure to roll your eyes as he pushes the door open, almost colliding with Wooyoung, you then turn your attention to Hongjoong.

                “Does he always need to be like that?”

                “You know, a lot of women love Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies, flexing his fingers to make sure the bandage remains in place, “Are quite dedicated to him, in fact. They write page after page describing him.”

                “Couldn’t be me,” You retort and leave your spot by the wall, going towards Hongjoong and motioning to see his hand which he extends, “I really didn’t want the night to play out this way, you know.”

                Hongjoong has enough sense to look slightly abashed while still protesting at the same time. “You heard what that guy was saying about you.”

                “Who cares? You always take me to some shithole like this and then are blown away when some asshole runs his mouth. You’ve never decked them before.”

                “Tonight is different. We’re celebrating,” He puts emphasis on the word as if it clears everything up, “You got an amazing job and the party shouldn’t be ruined by some asshole.”

                And you’re moving out, is the unsaid sentence because for all your differences with Hongjoong, he’s been your roommate for the last four years. But your new job is on the outskirts of the city and the commute just didn’t make sense, leading you to make the choice to move closer.

                Hongjoong, with his slight frame, short height and diminutive appearance, would normally not fit the picture of what a hard ass would look like. But in the four years of knowing him, including moments like having to pay bail a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t sitting in a cell, you know better. Hongjoong has a ferocity to him unmatched by anyone else in his group of equally feral friends. He isn’t afraid of anyone, doesn’t think repercussions through, acts on instinct instead of logic, and tears through people and things for the fun of it.

                But he never misses rent, keeps things exceptionally tidy and isn’t home very often. In all, a dream roommate which meant overlooking the chaotic way his life was lived outside the apartment.

                You hadn’t made it a habit to hang out with Hongjoong regularly, seeing as it always resulted with Seonghwa patching him up in a grimy bathroom. But after asking you to come out for one last hurrah before the move, you agreed – and now stood in the aforementioned grimy bathroom.

                You make sure that Seonghwa did a good job with the bandage, taking note of the blood seeping through a little at Hongjoong’s knuckles. At some point during the fight, Hongjoong’s hat went flying although you are sure someone has retrieved it. He has a baggy black t-shirt on, oversized for his thin frame, with the logo of some underground rock group you’ve never heard of. His jeans are covered in rips and tears and his combat boots are well worn with paint splattered all over them. His nails are painted black although at this point they are more chipped than not. His facial features are at odds with his clothing; he looks as delicate as a small bird which is probably why he has two eyebrow piercings above one eye and a lip ring to try to counteract that very comparison.

                “I think the celebration would go smoother without some jerk threatening to sue you.”

                Hongjoong gives a small shrug. “He won’t do anything. And we didn’t even get kicked out.”

                “A successful night for sure,” You reply dryly, finishing up studying his hand – as usual Seonghwa had done a good job.

                Hongjoong grins wickedly, “They usually are. Come on,” He nudges you with his shoulder while walking towards the door, “It’s only a little past midnight.”

                You sigh, following your roommate out into the night of whatever little bit of chaos remained.

*

                The ‘little bit of chaos’ ended up resulting in a hangover and sleeping past noon. By the time you’re up, showered, managed to eat something and are focusing on packing up the rest of your things, it is past six pm. You only have a week until it is time to move and your room is filled with boxes and a random assortment of items tossed all over the place. Stretched out on your bed, you are staring at a pile of clothes, torn between donating them or keeping them just in case.

                Overthinking the clothing situation is only making your hangover headache worse. The apartment is quiet because Hongjoong, after making sure you got back home safely at two in the morning, had went back out. This is normal for him so you don’t think much of it. Seonghwa is moving in after you go and will continue his guard dog act so Hongjoong will always have someone watching over him.

                As if conjuring your roommate up, you hear the front door open and the sound of Hongjoong’s boots against the floor before he removes them.

                “Are you here?” He barks out into the silence and when you call back an affirmative answer, he appears a few seconds later at the entrance to your room.

                His hair is disheveled, small dark circles under his eyes that means he is running on basically no sleep while in the same clothes as yesterday.

                “How’s your hand?” You ask, motioning him to come inside – all these years living together and Hongjoong never entered your room without permission.

                He blinks in surprise, as if having forgotten about the injury entirely, glancing down at it. “Oh? Fine, I guess.”

                When he gets a step closer, you scrunch up your nose. “Joong, you stink, no offense. You smell like fifty bars threw up on you.”

                Hongjoong immediately looks affronted, grabbing the front of his shirt and sniffing it. He smells of booze, cigarette smoke and the city in general. “I don’t smell anything.”

                “Of course you don’t, you’re just soaking in it.”

                “Well,” He sways a little on his feet, “I’ll shower.”

                You narrow your eyes at your roommate, sliding off the bed and braving the smell to look closer at his face. “Are you drunk?”

                “Still drunk, actually, because I was drunk last night, remember.”

                “Fucking hell, what have you been doing since I got back here?”

                “Uh….drinking.”

                “Okayyy,” You drag the word out, gingerly placing your hands on his shoulders and turning him to face the door, “Why don’t we get you in bed to sleep this off and then you can shower? Last thing I want to deal with before I move is you falling in the shower and hurting yourself.”

                “This jerk challenged Mingi and I to a drinking contest,” Hongjoong explains sourly, “I lost.”

                “Clearly. How did Mingi fare?”

                “He won,” He replies brightly, his words slurring at the edge, “We spent the winnings on more booze.”

                “Wonderful, truly. Let’s move it along, please.”

                “Wait, wait,” His hand reaches out for the doorframe, the nail polish completely chipped off the thumb, “Wait.” His slender fingers grip the wood, knuckles turning white for a second.

                You release your hold on his shoulders as Hongjoong turns around to face you. In the evening sun coming through the window, it is clearer now that he is intoxicated. This isn’t new behavior for him. In the four years of being his roommate, you’ve made a point in not asking the following: what he does when he’s out with his friends when you’re not around and how he makes his money to pay rent. Some knowledge is better off not knowing.

                “You’re moving soon so it doesn’t matter,” He declares – to you? to himself? You’re not sure.

                “What doesn’t matter?”

                “All of it.”

                “Can you be a little more specific?” You are trying to keep impatience from creeping into your tone, casting a glance at the collection of clothes you need to get back to overthinking about.

                “There’s something I need to talk to you about. Ask you about? Uhm,” His brow furrows in drunken confusion for a second before he continues, “It’s about me.”

                “Should we discuss this now?” You say with a small sigh.

                “You’re moving so I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour.”

                “I’m not helping you hide a body.”

                “N-no, what? No, not that. Besides, I’d ask Hwa for help with something like that. He’s very meticulous.”

                “Can you please get to the point?”

                Hongjoong suddenly looks a bit unsure of himself which is strange to see. You can’t actually recall ever seeing the expression on his face before and it ushers you into silence, wondering with a quickening heart what in the world he is going to tell you.

                His words are still slurred so you lean a little closer to him (much to your chagrin, given the smell) to try to understand what he is saying.

                “Since you’re moving, I wanted to ask if you would – well, the thing is. You know, I’ve fooled around a lot. But never…you know. So I was wondering if you would. With me.”

                You blink at him, unable to comprehend what Hongjoong is trying to say. If it had been anyone else talking, you would have assumed they were trying to tell you they were a virgin. But that would be ridiculous given the fact this is Hongjoong, who seemed to naturally have people drawn to him. You also definitely saw him making out with people in bars before too…

                As the silence drags on, Hongjoong shifts uncomfortably. That same fragile expression is on his face, a far cry from the usual cocky grin he carried.

                “I’m sorry, are you telling me that you’re a…virgin?” You finally ask point blank when it became clear that your roommate is not going to speak more.

                Hongjoong blinks and to your surprise, there is a touch of colour across his cheeks as he replies stiffly, “Yes.”

                “And you’re asking me to…sleep with you?”

                He clears his throat a little. “Yes.”

                You don’t know what to say and can’t really wrap your head around what he is telling you. What you do know is Hongjoong is drunk and this is not a conversation to be had at this moment. He might not even remember it come tomorrow nor the request he has made.

                Carefully, you reply, “Hongjoong, I think you should get some sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow, alright? But you’re intoxicated and this is more of a…. sober conversation.”

                He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and mumbles that he understands. Turning around, he shuffles out of your room and down the hall to his own space, closing the door firmly behind him. You hover in the doorway, waiting for…well, you aren’t sure. Was he upset that you pushed the conversation off? Even if he is, you know you did the right thing.

                When it is clear Hongjoong isn’t going to reappear, you quietly shut the door and stare at your bed.

                How is it possible that your roommate is a virgin? He is exceptionally good with people, charming even - when he wanted to be. Sure, he might throw a punch here or there or…often but you also witnessed him flirting constantly with people.

                On the other hand, now that you’re thinking about it, you cannot recall Hongjoong ever bringing someone back to the apartment to spend the night. But you just assumed that he was sleeping with people elsewhere.

                Apparently, he wasn’t.

                So I was wondering if you would. With me.

                For all Hongjoong’s tendencies to get in trouble, you always considered him a friend. But the thoughts never crossed into anything else. You never pictured yourself taking things further with him. He had been your roommate for years, why mess that up with sex?

                Since you’re moving…obviously Hongjoong gave this some thought before drunkenly suggesting you take his virginity. There isn’t anything to ruin when you’re moving out. If the sex was terrible or awkward, Hongjoong knew you’d be on the other side of the city. Through that lens, it made sense why he asked you.

                Tomorrow, you think, I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow when he’s sober.

*

                Late afternoon the next day, you stand outside Hongjoong’s door. He slept almost the entire day, waking up only two hours ago and taking an incredibly long shower. The kitchen smells of coffee and half the pot is already gone. His room is mostly quiet although the low hum of a TV show lets you know he is up.

                You aren’t sure how to approach this conversation. You’ve seen Hongjoong punch multiple people, you’ve seen him get hauled out of bar fights by Jongho, you’ve watched him fix up a motorcycle for an illegal street race and have lost count at watching Seonghwa patch him up.

                But you’ve never had a conversation about his sexual history or how it might include you.

                Lecturing Hongjoong is second nature to you, to the point that you sometimes think he enjoys the speeches. Talking to Hongjoong about his virginity? Yeah, you’re out of your element. You’re hoping that he was so drunk last night that he made the whole thing up.

                But the expression on his face during his confession lingers in your mind, giving you a sneaking suspicion there wasn’t anything false about it.

                Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door. You hear something clatter to the floor and then a shuffling of Hongjoong’s feet. A second later, he opens the door, avoiding your eyes.

                “Hey.”

                “Hi, Joong. How are you feeling? Hungover?”

                “No,” He says almost defensively as if being hungover would be a slight on his character, “Just tired.”

                “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second.”

                His eyes flick up to yours. There is a wariness that has settled across his delicate face. He remembers the conversation, you think as he moves to the side to let you into his room. The blinds are pulled shut over the window. The TV has some show on at a low volume, the screen brightness so dimmed that you know he is definitely hungover since it must hurt his eyes.

                Hongjoong is wearing an oversized white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweatpants. He looks somehow smaller than ever. Even with the eyebrow and lip piercings, you don’t think that it is possible to recall a time where he looked so tiny. He also smells a thousand times better than yesterday; the scent of clean laundry and soap clings to him in an almost comforting way.

                You sit gingerly on the edge of Hongjoong’s bed. One side of his room is a chaotic mess of paintings in progress, a collection of paints shoved on top of his dresser in a teetering tower, completely unorganized. Hongjoong didn’t keep it a secret that he was an artist but the amount of people who knew probably could be counted on your fingers. He never showed his finished work to anyone and you only caught glimpses the rare times you were in his room.

                Hongjoong just stands there, fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. You have no idea how to start this conversation.

                “Listen, this is kinda awkward for me,” You begin, “But I have to talk to you about a conversation we had yesterday when you were drunk.”

                “I remember it,” His tone is defensive, straightening himself out so that he looks as tall as possible.

                You’ve never had his attitude directed at you before but are familiar with it. Right now, however, it comes off as artificial, an act to protect himself from however this talk goes.

                “Great, okay. Were you telling the truth?”

                “Why would I lie?”

                “Maybe you found it funny.”

                “Why would that be funny?” He snaps, his agitation and anxiety too powerful to be masked by his tough guy exterior.

                You shrug. “Seeing my reaction about something like that. You might believe that I would find something amusing about an admission like that. I don’t, by the way. But when you’re drunk, sometimes what we find funny can be different.”

                Hongjoong narrows his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. He looks as defensive as ever but you get the feeling he is crossing his arms more to mentally protect himself, not because he is actually hostile. “You don’t find it funny?”

                “No. So, it’s true then? You’re a virgin?”

                Hongjoong flinches at the word and then scowls. “Yes.”

                “Not to lecture you but you do know virginity is just a social construct –”

                He waves one hand dismissively as if swatting a fly. “Don’t start. I already know. I’ve read it online a thousand times. And it’s not like I have zero experience. Casually making out in bars or whatever happen often enough.”

                “Right,” You reply, “But anything more than that…”

                He averts his gaze, still on edge. “Nothing. It isn’t that I’m against it. I just built it up too much in my head and now it’s some gigantic thing that gives me anxiety. I’ve had a thousand different ideas. I’ve thought about just finding someone at one of the bars or one of the shows I go to and fucking them behind the stage or something and getting it over with. I don’t want it to be some fucking…cuddly romantic thing. But when it comes to pulling the trigger, I just never seem to.”

                “And the idea to ask me?”

                There is a flicker of embarrassment that is wiped cleanly away by his earlier expression of hostility as he replies, “You’re moving. So, if it is awkward or terrible, it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever have to see you again. It can’t ruin us being roommates cuz you’ll be gone. You understand?”

                “Yeah, I get it. But there needs to be…a level of attraction for sleeping together to work, Hongjoong. And I have to admit that I never thought of you that way because you’re my roommate.”

                Hongjoong tentatively sits next to you on the edge of the bed although his posture looks as if he is ready to flee at any second. “Yeah, but we’re not going to be come next week. So…think about it.”

                You study his profile since he remains steadfastly looking ahead. The curve of his elegant nose, the fragility of his features – no amount of piercings could erase those things. Even his hands resting in his lap look to be made from porcelain, the bandage still wrapped around his knuckles making you wonder how he hasn’t broken a bone from throwing punches.

                You try to picture Hongjoong approaching your bed, stripping your clothes off your body, his fingers running across your skin. His lips against yours, the way his breathing would change when he would be turned on. He would probably still be in control when it came to sex, judging from how he is in everything else, even if it would be entirely new to him. The idea of him turning into a whimpering mess seems unlikely to happen.

                “Just think about it,” Hongjoong goes, “I know it’s…an unusual request. But I feel comfortable with you. I don’t think the anxiety would be so bad knowing you’re moving out and if it sucks, it won’t matter. That’s why I want it to be you and no one else.”

                You stand up, skin strangely hot and nod. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

                Hongjoong looks relieved, nodding. “Great. Well, listen, I gotta clean my bedsheets cuz they smell like booze and I have half a pot of coffee left to go so…”

                “Right, I’m going now,” You say, eyes darting to his hands one last time, thinking about how they’d feel against your thighs, “Thanks for the talk.”

                Hongjoong shrugs with the air of forced casual indifference which you see right through but won’t point out. You close the door, mulling over what it would be like to sleep with him. He’s right in that there wouldn’t be any downsides. You’re moving so if it’s terrible, does it matter? It would be so easy to tumble into bed with him.

                Once you’re back in your own room, you flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

                So think about it.

                Hongjoong makes it sound so simple. That causes you to wonder how long he had been thinking about it, how long he imagined sleeping with you. He never gave any indication about such things but he also hides everything under his tough guy exterior.

                In your four years of being roommates with Hongjoong, you always trusted and got along with him. Sure, his life was not one you fully understood nor wanted for your own but he seemed at ease in it. There was the time your car broke down and he sent Yeosang out to pick you up immediately. The rare time you’d attend a rock show with Hongjoong and he would viciously push any guy who tried to get a little too touchy feeling with you under the guise of being smushed in the crowd. Sometimes, after vanishing for a few days, he would reappear with your favourite Starbucks order for no reason at all. Or that one time your relationship ended because your ex cheated on you and Hongjoong played innocent when they showed up and accused him of keying his car. Not to mention the fact Hongjoong just punched that guy last night for being vulgar…

                “Oh god,” You mumble, suddenly sitting up.

                Of course it had been easy for Hongjoong to imagine sleeping with you. The gestures that you just assumed were typical roommate ones and hadn’t questioned are now very clearly indications of a larger interest in you. You’re only seeing it now because of his confession of his virginity and asking to lose it to you, of all people.

                So think about it, he said, carefully hiding his emotions underneath the veneer of indifference and attitude.

                You lay back down and finally, truly, think about it.

*

                Hongjoong promptly vanishes the next two days. You have never noticed his absence before, always enjoying having a roommate that didn’t spend a lot of time at home. But with the last conversation being so serious, the silence feels intentional as if he is worried hanging around will create some sort of pressure on the choice you need to make.

                With your old job winding down and the move mostly organized and settled, you spend a lot of time thinking about sleeping with Hongjoong. You carefully weigh the pros and cons, you consider what it would do to any possible friendship you could have with him after the move, and then you think about how he more than likely has been interested in you for years and just would never say anything about it. In fact, he seems content to let you go without asking you to go out on a date.

                With anyone else, you’d assume this is because he is more interested in using you to rip the ‘virgin’ label off him. However, you know your roommate well enough to be aware that he wouldn’t act like that. In suggesting this to you, and mentioning his earlier anxiety about having sex, you believe that his feelings for you just make the entire process simpler and less stressful. He seems to be aware that, up until now, you have never looked at him in anything other than the light of a roommate and he didn’t want to ruin that by telling you of his affections.

                But tonight, you texted him asking to talk and a few hours later, a little after eight pm, the front door of the apartment opens and you hear Hongjoong’s boots against the floor. You are nervous, unsure how this is going to play out. There is silence and then a hard knock on the door.

                After telling him to come in, he opens the door and hovers in the entrance. Tonight he’s wearing a white button up and as usual, it is a little too large for him. It is purposely untucked although he has a black belt looped around it, smushing the fabric against his waist. His jeans don’t even have any holes in them and his nails are freshly painted black.

                “Wow,” You say by way of greeting, “You look almost presentable.”

                He rolls his eyes but the corners of his lips quirk up for a second. “New exhibit at the museum started and sometimes the staff gets bitchy if the people going during the opening week don’t look super presentable. There’s no official dress code there but you know what I mean. I didn’t feel like having a lot of old people gawk at me while I was looking at the paintings.”

                 “Right, I understand.”

                There is a beat of silence. Hongjoong leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. You can almost see the walls going up as he prepares for rejection.

                “Anyway, you wanted to talk?” He prompts.

                You wish he wasn’t on the other side of the room while you sit on your bed. But you know better than to make Hongjoong feel cornered, especially with such a sensitive discussion on the table.

                “I wanted to talk about our conversation the other day. I’ve been thinking a lot about it.”

                “Alright…” He trails off, quickly masking the sudden insecurity that is hitting him by darting his eyes away from you.

                You inhale slowly and then go, “I want to. If you still are interested, I mean.”

                Hongjoong’s eyes snap back in your direction, the surprise written all over his face. The vulnerability shown there takes you by surprise, a glimpse underneath his cool exterior that you weren’t prepared for.

                But then the look is gone, replaced with that typical hard expression. He narrows his eyes, pushing away from the doorframe and towards you. “Do you mean it? You’re not just saying this because you feel pressured? Because it’s fine if you don’t want to.”

                “I don’t feel pressured. I want to.”     

                “Why?” His tone is laced with hostility, another defense mechanism he’s deploying in navigating this conversation.

                Hongjoong stands in front of you now, smelling of clean laundry and his familiar cologne still clinging to his skin. Tilting your face to look upwards at him, you speak.

                “Because your logic makes sense. If it’s awkward or terrible, I’m moving and we don’t ever have to see one another again. We’ve known each other for years. I’m comfortable with you. And…” You steel yourself for the next comment, unsure how he will take it. “And I figured it out. How you feel about me.”

                Hongjoong goes very still, staring at you with a careful blank stare on his face. But for all his attempts at coming off indifferent, he flexes the fingers of his right hand to try to steady his nerves.

                You continue to talk, although it is in a bit of a faster voice than before, nervous Hongjoong is going to take something the wrong way and leave. “I know you didn’t mean for me to learn that you might see more as more than friends or a roommate. I only realized it after you asked me about sleeping together. I understand your reasoning more now; it isn’t just about the fact I am moving away. Your feelings about me make the entire thing a little more comfortable, a little less anxiety inducing. I get it.”

                “I don’t want you sleeping with me out of pity,” He replies stiffly.

                “I’m not.”

                “How is this not pity?” He says hotly.

                “Because you told me to think about it. About being with you. So, I thought about it.”

                “And?” He demands, refusing to budge from his hostility.

                You take a steadying breath and bring your hands carefully forward, gently grabbing onto the belt around his waist, giving it a small tug to bring Hongjoong closer. “And I want you,” You say simply.

                Something in his fragile face seems to shift at the words, like small cracks in fine china. One second, he stands in front of you defensive and on edge. In the next second, he is bending down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his lips hot against yours. You gasp in surprise, muffled in the kiss. Even with all your daydreaming about him since his admission of being a virgin, the reality of Hongjoong kissing you is a bit surreal.

                Your hands grip his belt, pulling on it to lead him onto the bed as you lay back against the pillows, not breaking the kiss. His tongue slips in your mouth and there is heat growing in your body like a slow wave. You weren’t expecting the kiss to be this intense, unsure what it would be like to actually have him in this manner.

                The kiss ends suddenly and Hongjoong is peering closely at your face. His breathing is uneven and his normally guarded expression is open with all the concerns and worries floating around in his head.

                You are slightly disoriented from the kiss, wondering why he stopped.

                “Do you want to keep going?” He asks in a soft voice, the softest you’ve heard from him.

                You swallow hard, disbelieving that he does not see the impact the kiss had on you. “Yeah, unless…unless you’re having second thoughts.”

                “I’m not,” He goes and there is that same defiance creeping back in his tone, that jagged edge of his personality you have grown so accustomed to over the years. “I just wasn’t sure if you were.”

                “I’m not, Joong. I want – I mean, you can kiss me again. If you want.”

                His lips are back against yours, not requiring another suggestion nor word from you. This time, your hands circle around his waist, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your hands, holding onto him while continuing to kiss. All that making out must have paid off because Hongjoong’s kisses are the type that leave you breathless, your heart thrumming in your chest like a trapped bird.

                But he sticks to kissing and it strikes you that he is not going to be as in charge or bossy as you previously thought. He is simply too shy to act on what he wants, tying into his story about his anxiety and how it kept him from losing his virginity.

                You begin to kiss along his jawline and down his neck. The touch makes him shiver and you realize how sensitive he is. Carefully, you bring one hand upwards to his hair, the blue strands curling around your fingers, feeling the softness against your skin. Hongjoong’s breath hitches; it is a foreign sound to you, something entirely brand new from a person you believed to know almost everything about.

                “Does that feel nice?” You ask quietly in between kissing along his neck.

                Hongjoong makes a soft humming noise in response, a mixture of too shy and too turned on to speak. Carefully, you change positions so that he is now underneath your body. You’re straddling him, leaning forward to drape your body against his, finding his lips once more. His hands tentatively move along your sides, just brushing underneath your shirt to touch bare skin.

                Your body shivers from the slight touch which seems to give Hongjoong confidence because his fingers trail upwards, underneath your shirt and stopping right where your bra begins. He is stiff in his jeans and it is difficult to hold back and not grind down against his body just to hear what your roommate sounds like turned on.

                Moving your hand away from Hongjoong’s hair, you bring it to meet where his hovers. Carefully, you cover his hand with yours, allowing it to travel upwards to your bra. His breathing has quickened as he begins to grope you. Shyly, his other hand comes to your chest, squeezing your tits as you resume kissing him.

                Your tongue is in his mouth and your brain is overrun by the scent of him, the sensation of his hands, how he feels underneath your body. You’re wet, you realize with a jolt, turned on by Hongjoong and the gentle unraveling of him occurring so close to you.

                The kiss breaks and this time you’re studying Hongjoong’s face. There is a hint of colour in his cheeks, his lips are flushed from all the making out and he has one tiny hickey already forming on the delicate skin of his neck. You don’t even recall giving it to him.

                The expression in his eyes is one of an unraveling – his typical tough guy posture is being pulled away like a cover off a painting, exposing the centre of Hongjoong in a way that you have never seen before.

                The desire to see Hongjoong completely undone hits you squarely in the chest. It is a powerful urge to see what he looks and sounds like when he is experiencing intense pleasure. You pull off your t-shirt, tossing it to the side. Hongjoong swallows hard, eyes widening while you unclasp your bra and bring his hands back up to your bare breasts.

                He seems entranced with groping them, brushing his fingertips across your nipples. When it makes you shiver, he repeats the action, clearly studying what makes you react the most. You’re swiftly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, stopping to remove his belt which drops off the bed with a clatter. He sits up slightly as you peel it off his shoulders, removing it entirely and leaving Hongjoong bare chested.

                Running your hands down his chest, you take in the sight of his toned chest and hard abdomen. Experimentally, you rock your hips just a little, just enough to put some pressure on his groin. He inhales sharply, eyes closing for a moment. Hongjoong is a delicate thing underneath you, sensitive to any and all pleasure that is entirely brand new to him.

                You slide off him, kicking off your shorts and unzipping his pants. He lifts his hips to allow them to be removed, leaving him in just his boxers. Your gaze turns to Hongjoong, making sure he is doing okay. There is a look of determination in his eyes to keep going although there is still the same hint of vulnerability that grows stronger every time an article of clothing is removed.

                “You wanna keep going?” You check in.

                Hongjoong nods firmly although his voice is soft when replying, “Don’t stop.”

                Your hand glides over his thigh and up to his boxers, rubbing him gently. There is a small moan from him, so quiet as if he is holding back. You squeeze his cock through the boxers and his eyes close tightly, mumbling a curse under his breath.

                Slowly, you pull down his boxers, freeing his cock from them. Hongjoong is stiff and warm, the heavy weight of his length against his stomach. You wrap your hand around his cock and he whimpers. Having never heard such a noise from him before, you stop, letting him get used to the sensation.

                But Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be interested in stopping because in a breathless voice he goes, “P-please.”

                Hearing him so desperate leaves you unable to refuse. You spit in the palm of your hand and slowly stroke Hongjoong’s length, fighting the urge to take him in your mouth. But you don’t want to overwhelm Hongjoong with too much, not now, not for his first time. Instead, you lean forward and plant one kiss on the tip which elicits a groan from your roommate.

                “Is there a certain way you’d like to do this?” You ask, wanting him to make all the choices.

                Hongjoong opens his eyes, casting a look downward while you stroke his length. His breathing is shallow, his pupils blown out with desire and his blue hair framing his elegant face.

                “Just…if you could…” His shyness is growing by the second, completely unlike every conversation you’ve ever had before with him, “If you could be on top,” He finishes quickly, the colour in his cheeks deepening.

                You’re surprised again at how Hongjoong is like putty in your hands, so swift to give over all control and let you lead the process. For someone who is usually outspoken and bossy, this turn is enticing. Seeing your roommate crumble from every touch makes the pull towards him even more acute.

                Slipping your underwear off, you straddle Hongjoong. His cock presses in between your folds and he moans again. His blue hair is splayed against the pillow, a bright splash of electric ocean that only highlights his small frame and tender appearance.

                Positioning yourself so that his cock is at your entrance, you lower your hips. His cock pushes inside your wet hole and Hongjoong groans louder, his head rolling back as the pleasure engulfs his length. He enters easily, your pussy slick with juices from just exploring and touching him. When he is fully inside your cunt, you go still, letting him get used to being inside you.

                Hongjoong is unspooling in front of you. All the previous hostile energy he used to protect himself is gone. The fragility on display now is both a turn on and endearing. His bandaged hand grips the bed sheets, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. The colour deepens across his cheeks, making him look almost like a sunset across the ocean.

                You lean forward and kiss him. He tilts his face to meet your lips, the desperation evident in how he moves his tongue and the way he is trembling underneath your body. You still don’t move your hips, enjoying the sensation of Hongjoong’s cock buried in you.

                He is kissing along your jaw and down your neck, growing bold enough to bring his hands around your back, gently indicating to move forward a little. As you do so, your pussy tightens around his cock and Hongjoong groans again as his lips find your nipples, placing one in your mouth so he can suck on them. Your hands are next to his head, gripping the sheets as you begin to move your hips back, starting to ride him.

                Hongjoong switches to your other nipple, his teeth grazing the skin as he gropes your other breast with his hand. When he slips your nipple out of his mouth, his hands go to your shoulders, pulling you back down so that he can kiss you again. Your lips meet his hungrily as the rocking of your hips steadily increases. His tongue is messy in your mouth, his hands against your back, a whimpering mess with each movement taken.

                You pull away, straightening out on top of him, beginning to properly bounce on his cock now. All the years of being roommates are wiped away by the sight of Hongjoong delirious with pleasure. His hands glide down to your hips as the noises tumble from his lips. Hongjoong is not quiet in the slightest; there is none of the silenced pleasure you are so used to having from your past lovers. His eyes are closed once more and his eyelashes lay against his skin like small whisps of a raven’s feathers. He arches his hips at one point as you sink down on his cock and your hands lay flat against his stomach. The muscles are hard underneath your fingers and your speed increases, driving your pussy down faster to get a stronger reaction out of Hongjoong.

                It works. Whatever else residing in his brain is quickly wiped away from how good it feels. He curses loudly, his eyes opening to reveal a hazy expression of lust and desire. A strand of his blue hair lays across his forehead, his tongue pokes out from in between his lips, and his grip tightens on your hips. He is a mess, each ragged gasp and whimper his way of wishing that the pleasure would never stop, a desperate plea to extend this moment forever. It is difficult to merge the Hongjoong underneath you – the one with the flushed skin, ragged breathing and slender frame trembling – as your roommate who punched a guy from mouthing off the other night, the same man who showed no hesitation in telling someone off for the slightest mistake.

                It is even trickier to accept that it is you making him feel this way. You are unsure what Hongjoong pictured for his first time but did he know how he would crumble when put against your body? Did he know that everything would be this intense due to a mixture of his feelings for you and how long you’ve known one another? Was he aware of how he would be a writhing whimpering man far removed from how he acted in public?

                His jaw is clenched as he gasps out, “I’m gonna – I’m so close,” With desperation he pulls at you, bringing your body against his as he pleads, “Kiss me.”

                Your lips are hot on his, the kiss desperate, your tongues pressing together as you bring your hips down one final time. Hongjoong’s groan is muffled as he begins his climax. He clings to you, his arms around your back, fingernails gently pressing into your skin. The kiss ends and you watch as Hongjoong submits completely to his orgasm, erasing all signs of the roommate you once thought you knew. You can feel his warm cum in your cunt, the beautiful vulnerability of his facial expressions as he submits to the dizzying high of the climax.

                Hongjoong’s hands slide off your back, his breathing hard and fast as he tries to wipe the haze from his brain. Carefully, you move off his lap, laying down next to him. Your eyes rake across his body, admiring his small frame, his chest and messy hair. He opens his eyes and turns onto his side, propping himself up a little to stare at you. His eyebrow piercing glints in the light.

                You are unsure how to start the conversation. How do you ask your roommate if losing his virginity was enjoyable? His cum is leaking out of your pussy, something you never thought would happen. Casual conversation at this point seems asinine.

                But before you can utter a word, Hongjoong looks crossed and goes, “You didn’t cum.”

                The ever familiar expression of hostility creeps back across his pretty face, a signal to a return to form. The satisfaction that just obliterated his earlier composure is swiftly replaced by a petulant expression.

                “Oh,” You’re surprised, not thinking he noticed nor care so much, “I mean, this was more about you than me…” You trail off, taking note of his frown.

                “Who said that?” He demands, “Just teach me.”

                “Teach you what?”

                A tiny bit of timidity creeps back into his eyes but he resolutely pushes through it and goes, “How to eat your pussy.”

                It’s the dirtiest thing Hongjoong has ever said to you and momentarily renders you speechless. Finally, you nod, moving back among the pillows. Hongjoong doesn’t waste a moment, shifting so that he is in front of you. His hands are on your thighs and he gently spreads your legs apart. Having him looking at your pussy which still has his cum leaking out of it feels incredibly intimate and you’re thrown off by the sudden timidness that is sweeping over you.

                Hongjoong’s cheeks are flushing with colour again but the expression on his face is one of determination and a growing passion. He brings two fingers down along your slit, spreading your lips apart just enough to take in the sight of his cum in your hole.

                In a shaky voice, he goes, “You have a pretty pussy.” You are unsure if it is nerves making his voice quake, lust or a mixture of both. He slips his fingers in his mouth for a couple of seconds and then brings one to your entrance, pushing it inside. “Is that okay?”

                You nod but then realize Hongjoong is too busy staring at the way you’re taking his finger. “Y-yeah, that’s perfect.”

                “I like pushing my load back in you,” His voice is soft and tentative, dirty talk being something new to him, but you give him credit for pushing through his anxiety, “It looks good.”

                You bring your hand down to your clit, rubbing it a little while saying, “Bring your tongue here –” The rest of your explanation is cut off as Hongjoong doesn’t waste a second, lowering his face to your pussy and rolling his tongue across your clit.

                You curse in surprise as Hongjoong’s tongue presses against your nub, his finger pumping in your hole slowly. At first, his movements are a little awkward and unsure but with more guiding, he switches to flicking his tongue across your clit while inserting a second finger. This feels much better and Hongjoong seems pleased to hear the moans that are flowing freely from your mouth now.

                He fucks you faster with his fingers, burying them inside you. Your pussy is a mess of his cum and your wetness and as his pace accelerates, so do the lewd noises of your hole taking him. At one point, he pulls away to watch how your hole is wrapped around his fingers. He looks entranced and when he suddenly looks up, his face is covered in you and his cheeks are a deep pink.

                “Am I…am I doing okay?” He asks, unsure of himself.

                “Yes,” You breathe out, “Can you fuck me faster? And try sucking on my clit.”

                Hongjoong, apparently ever obedient in bed, wraps his lips around your swollen clit while picking up the speed of his finger thrusts. You gasp, your hand going to his hair, curling it around your fingertips. You quietly urge him to keep going, noticing that each compliment you give him only seems to make Hongjoong more determined to bring you to climax. Out of all the interesting things you’re learning about your roommate today, finding out he has an affinity to being complimented for doing a good job has to be the most surprising.

                “Don’t stop, Joong,” You plead as his fingers are buried in your cunt and he is switching between sucking and flicking his tongue over your clit as your thighs shake, “Please, you’re doing such a good job.”

                He makes a noise that is almost a sigh of contentment, not stopping for a moment. Your climax begins with one final movement of his tongue. Between his fingers and how he works your clit, you lose yourself to Hongjoong. Your grip on his hair tightens as the bliss reaches its peak. His name tumbles from your lips as he stops touching your clit and instead slips his tongue inside your hole. The slurping sounds are obscene yet he doesn’t seem to care. It is only when your orgasm finally subsides that your hold on his hair releases and you are trying to catch your breath.

                A second later, Hongjoong’s head pops up in your vision, his expression as earnest as you’ve ever seen it. “Was that good? Did I do a good job?”

                You know that it’ll be a secret taken to your grave that Hongjoong turns into a needy little thing in bed. You would never want to ruin his reputation.

                In response, you reach out, yanking him down so that the two of you are kissing. He makes a noise of surprise but returns the kiss immediately. He tastes like your arousal; he tastes like you want more of him.

*

                Stepping back into your room after cleaning up, now dressed back in your clothes, Hongjoong is just finishing doing up the last button on his dress shirt. He glances up at your entrance. His face is back in its usual neutral expression although the way his fingers shake against the button betrays his real emotions.

                “Are you leaving?” You ask curiously.

                Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, got some stuff to do.” He’s lying and you know it but don’t want to press things.

                Yet you still wonder what happens now. Knowing about his feelings for you combined with the sexual chemistry, you think it would be a shame if things just really ended here. You hadn’t expected sex to be that enjoyable nor had you thought that Hongjoong unraveling underneath your body would have looked so good.

                “Joong, before you go…”

                He looks up from zipping up his jeans, his belt hanging loosely in between his fingers. His eyes are guarded, his disposition wary. All the walls are back up.

                “Yeah?”

                “Well, I mean, is that just…it? You ‘lost’ your virginity and I just move out and we barely talk anymore?”

                His brow furrows, his piercings glinting as he walks towards you. You aren’t sure why you’re pressing this discussion now minus a gut feeling that if you don’t do it at this very moment, Hongjoong is going to slip out the front door because his vulnerability will lead him to clamming up. You’ll move out and probably never see him again.

                His back is against the doorframe, his gaze heavy on yours. His shirt hangs off him loosely, the front dipping to reveal the top of his chest. The hickey has darkened against his skin.

                “What else is there?” He juts his chin out but a flicker of anxiety in his eyes exposes him.

                “I liked being with you. It felt good and…” Slightly embarrassing to admit this aloud but you keep going, “I like you. I realized it when you were underneath me. I know you have feelings for me. Why can’t we see where this goes after I move out?”

                He looks surprised but quickly covers it up with a cocky expression, poking his finger against your hip. “You want me to ask you out on a date, don’t you?”

                “Well…yes.”

                Another poke. “You had that much fun with me?”

                “You’re fishing for compliments now.”

                “You were quick to give them out when we were fucking,” He retorts, “Why can’t I get any now?”

                “Because you’re back to being Mr. Cool Guy and I thought you don’t want any compliments unless someone is like ‘nice right hook’ or something.”

                His hand comes to a stop on your hip, looking at you with the expression of a cat that just found a glass of milk unattended. “Come out with me on a date.”

                Hongjoong has looked at you a thousand times over the years but never quite so openly as he is right now. You can feel it all the way down to your toes and it throws you completely off balance. The dichotomy of him during sex and outside of sex makes the magnetic pull stronger.

                “Okay,” You say simply as his hand snakes to your lower back and pushes you forward just enough so that he is pressing against your body, “O-oh!” You gasp in surprise and then quickly try to brush it off with the question, “What are we gonna do on the date?”

                “Don’t worry, we’ll do the typical tedious date shit,” His eyes drop to your lower half before raising one eyebrow, “Maybe afterwards though, I can do what I did earlier. I gotta admit that it was pretty fun to hear you be that loud just because of my tongue,” He leans forward, bringing his lips close to your ear, “And you tasted good too.”

                Your head spins, surprised at how easily Hongjoong can bounce back from being such a whimpering mess to openly flirting about eating you out. But Hongjoong has always displayed a cocky exterior and it didn’t look like that was going to magically change. You’re also taken aback by how weak in the knees you feel.

                Swatting his hand away, you take a step back, hoping he can’t tell how flustered you are or you’ll never hear the end of it. “Didn’t you have somewhere to be?”

                “I was lying to get out of here in case the conversation got awkward,” He openly admits, looping his belt through his jeans, shaking his blue hair out of his eyes, “But now I’m actually hungry. You wanna grab something to eat with me? Strictly in a roommate capacity.”

                “Sure. Let me get ready real quick.”

                “Alright,” He turns to walk out of your room but stops when you say his name, looking over his shoulder, “What?”

                “Do you feel any different? Now that you’re not a virgin, I mean.”

                Hongjoong looks thoughtful for a moment and then shrugs. “Nah, I feel the same. I guess because I lost it to you.” The words take you by surprise and there is a small hint of colour on his cheeks at the admission. “It just felt natural with you. You’re ah…always the one I wanted to lose it with,” He scowls then as if disgusted by opening up in such a manner, “Come on, go change. I’m seriously starving.”

                You watch him leave, shutting the door behind him. In the quiet space of your room, you press your fingers against your chest, feeling the thrum of your heart. Maybe it had been easy to overlook Hongjoong all these years due to the formality of being roommates.

                But it is evident to your mind and body that you are no longer overlooking your vulnerable yet prideful roommate thanks to his drunken declaration a few nights ago.

                Lucky you.

the end.

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[atinylittlepain]

Maybe, probably, definitely

college!steve harrington x f!oc

A continuation of Warm. Steve and Andy are keeping things casual... or maybe not.

18+ 90s au in which I fuck with the timeline, smut, two scrungly idiots in love, Robin and Eddie being Robin and Eddie, generally a fun little silly little time okay? okay.

.................................................

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“Please, it’s so obvious.”

“I just think it’s unlikely, is all. He had like, women losing their minds over him, still does.”

“Okay, and? Have you seen the videos of him and Clarence kissing?” Easy, easy, and warm in her little corner kitchen, something steaming and savory stirring in the pot on the stove, her hip bumping against his every time she steps away and back to add a pinch or a glug of something else to the soup, making his cheeks round and pinken every time she slides half a smile his way. He laughs, shakes his head, and she pulls a face at him, pointing her wooden spoon at his chest.

“What’s so unbelievable about Bruce being bisexual?” 

“Nothing, nothing, I just don’t think there’s enough evidence for or against your theory yet.”

“So you’re a Springsteen agnostic?” Two bowls and two spoons and one bowl and one spoon is for him, and how lovely, how lovely to have a place here with her, slipping into her spot in front of the stove to serve them both while she slices a few pieces of bread.

“Gonna have to see a little more evidence, honey.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep building my case. Robin agrees with me, you know.” He’s not sure what he makes of Andy and Robin being friends before they had even been introduced. It had caught him off guard, Andy coming with him to one of Eddie’s gigs, and her and Robin chatting with an easy familiarity. Robin had failed to mention that they’re both in some kind of feminist consciousness-raising group on campus, and have been for two years. 

“Well, Robin thinks everyone’s a little gay so, I’m still not convinced.” Darkness On the Edge of Town is crackling and crooning in her cassette deck, Springsteen walking Streets of Fire, sending them both into a little sway at the counter, the light turning blue and dim in the little square window above the sink, frost filaments and threads around the edges of the panes. And the bread she’s slicing is from some friend of a friend who’s gotten into sourdough, because Andy has friends who get into sourdough, though when she pulls the loaf apart it looks more like chewed gum than bread in the middle. They make do with a few tortillas fried and folded with a fistful of cheese in a pan instead, settling down around each other with steaming bowls on the couch. 

“Oh hey, Syl, hey, baby.” The baby in question is digging her claws into his pants leg and crawling up his thigh. Steve hadn’t met Sylvia until the third or fourth time he stayed over, woken up from a deep, warm sleep to something tugging at his scalp. He thought it had been Andy being a little mean in that way he likes, a halfway delirious smile spreading and bleary eyes opening and he had been very wrong, met with the sight of a creature curled up next to his face and chewing on the ends of his hair. Emphasis on the word creature, not cat, no. And when he returned to his own apartment that morning and told Robin he met Sylvia, she had promptly said oh, the ballsack cat, yeah. He was inclined to agree with her on that title, and is still inclined to agree now, watching the hairless animal’s wrinkles curl and fold as she climbs up his chest, bap, bap, bapping at his throat while Steve holds his bowl of soup overhead and out of her swiping range. Andy keeps telling him that Sylvia likes him, even as she curls her hand around the cat’s middle to peel her off him, her claws catching in his sweater and she really likes you, Stevie. Yeah, he’s not so sure about that. But Andy’s cooed Stevie softens him, just a little. 

“Are you playing this weekend?” 

“Yeah, just a round robin thing on Saturday with some other teams.”

“Can I come watch?

“If you want to, I don’t know if it’s gonna be that interesting though.” Andy had come to watch a few of his club basketball games last weekend, and yeah, maybe a little puff of pride in his chest, maybe hustling a little faster, maybe taking more shots. And afterward, when his team mates asked him if that was his girl cheering for him on the bleachers, he had sniffed, and pointedly informed them that she’s not a girl, she’s a woman. 

“On the contrary, I think those shorts you wear are very interesting.”

“Are you objectifying me right now?” Her thumb and forefinger pinch together, smile scrunching to the side as she tries to hold in a laugh. 

“What can I say, you have a very objectifiable ass.” 

“I knew it, knew you just wanted me for my body.” An easy shuffle, both of them dissolving in a breath of laughter and soup bowls being set aside and Andy’s aw poor baby, how’s it feel coming out breathless as she settles her thighs around his hips, making him bark a single high note when her hands creep down his back and down into his back pockets and squeezing as best she can with her hands squished between him and the couch.

“If you rip these tights I’m never kissing you again.” His hands wandering, bunching up the dark green fabric of her dress, pretty thing that he watched flutter around her shins on the walk from class to her apartment. He palms her ass, fingers pressing greedy into the fat covered by knit brown tights, little pinch, little pull of the fabric and snapped back, making her huff at him.

“I don’t think I could if I tried. They’re fucking thick, how am I gonna get you out of these, huh?”

“It’s cold out, Steven. I need them to stay warm.” And of course, of course, if she pitches one down the middle he’s gonna swing, his grin turning smarmy as he tilts his chin up to smack a kiss to her mouth that lands more on her cheek with the way she ducks him, him mouthing into her skin I’ll keep you warm, honey. 

Andy cut all her hair off recently, leaving a spiky bob that’s a little too short to be called a bob and he likes it. Before, he’d hide his face in the fan of her hair, tucking his nose into the juncture of her neck and breathing deeply. Now it’s wildly easy access to let his mouth drag up the column of her throat, making her squirm in his hands, little tug to his hair where her fingers are threaded through mean. And somewhere in the background the piano is spilling out a desperate tune and Clarence is breathing hard into his sax and Bruce is whining in that dark rasp about proving it all night, girl, I’ll prove it all night for your love and he’s humming the words into her sternum while they stumble and shrug off the couch, a small whirlwind of him rucking her dress up and up and off and she’s in nothing but that damn pair of tights, her spine curling beneath his hands when he ducks his head down and presses the open heat of his mouth over her nipple, long sigh, and another stumble up against the wall next to her bedroom door. 

He’s doomed, he knows it. How badly he wants her, and when he gets her, how needy, how greedy. Got up at seven this morning to walk across campus and shovel her stoop because she had complained about nearly slipping the other day, and it was worth it when she came down still in her robe and soft an sleepy and pulled him inside to press kisses to the already red tips of his ears and his cheeks and his nose, let him sit with a warm cup of coffee and watch her roll those tights up her legs while she told him about a paper she’s writing about Jane Ussher’s conception of critical realism. He did his best to listen, to hold onto the details even as his brain wandered to the soft drop of her breasts as she leaned over herself. And it’s extra terrible, he thinks, that she seems to want him just as much, or close to it, at least, her hands slipping up under his sweater, the light scratch of her nails against his stomach, swallowing the whine that loosens in his chest when her fingers dip under the waistband of his jeans. Hands and teeth and tongues and give and take and an indignant chirp from somewhere at their feet when he steps on what he’s pretty sure was a paw, a murmured sorry ball– sorry, Sylvia when he closes the bedroom door before the cat can slip inside with them because no, not making that mistake again. And when he turns back around, he finds her standing there devastatingly smug, because she knows, she knows how freakishly foolish she has turned him, her hands on her hips and still in her tights and that little spill of softness over the waist of them and he wants to put his mouth there, there, and bite down just a little. Normal want, right? Right. 

“Come here.” She says it again, quiet c’mere with her shoulder hiked up and her cheek dropped to the slope of it and he’s never saying no to that, bare feet padding and hands finding the soft spill of her waist, her hips, tugging down and down and down on his knees and he’s got her laughing with how he holds onto her ankle to help her step out of the rolled-down fabric of her tights, pressing a kiss to the notch of bone there for good measure. Being with her, around her, he finds himself doing things he would have scoffed at, things the king would have scoffed at. But she makes him feel young and dumb in that giddy, good way, new, makes him forget the rules he had made for himself to make things like this easier. There is nothing, he has realized, that has been quite like this. 

For all the teasing, all the little taunts, she’s gentle where it counts. Makes him feel like something good, something real beneath her hands and her mouth, gentle when she pulls off his sweater and smooths back his hair from his face, always doing that with a kiss pressed to a temple, his brow, the crinkle that pulls next to his eye because he’s always smiling like a fool around her. And when they’re both bare, a little breathless from all the little pets, little kisses, curled around each other with her duvet tugged down around their hips because sweat is starting to build and pool in the soft hollows of their skin, they hold onto each other through the soft shake of it, hips and bellies and that sweet, simple sate. He comes with his face pressed against her heart, sweat and salt stinging his eyes and her hands holding him steady and she hums his name as a high sound in her throat, and he thinks that this could maybe, probably, definitely be called love. 

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” He can see the shadow of her smile, the streetlight outside casting a warm wash over the bed, shadows of snowfall speckled on her cheek.

“Should probably get a shower.”

“Probably.” Even as he says it he’s pulling her closer, her feet hooked around his ankles, bare chest to bare chest and her hands tucked under his arms, thumbs brushing down the rungs of his ribs, sweat cooling a little humid, the beat of their hearts lulling slow in the aftermath.

“I don’t have class in the morning, do you?”

“At eleven, macroeconomics.”

“How bleak, gonna solve the debt crisis?”

“For you, I’ll try.”

“Oh please, Steve, you can’t just say stuff like that.” Little shove to his chest, though he just holds her tighter.

“Why not?”

“You’re gross. We’re gross.” 

“The grossest, honey.” 

“I like that.”

“What, being gross?”

“No, you calling me honey, I like that. No one’s called me that before, it’s cute.” He likes the feeling of the soft, melting line of her body pressed snug against his, her words breathed out on a sigh somewhere between sleep and not. 

“Noted, honey.” 

“You’re such a dick, Do you wanna do breakfast in the morning?” A quiet mmhmm, mmhmm? mmhmm from both of them. Sleep, he finds, comes easily like this. 

And in the morning, they wake up in a different tangle, both on their stomachs, her arm slung between his shoulder blades and his hand curled around her hip. They move with half-opened eyes and hoarse voices, hot shower and cool bathroom tiles and he’ll just wear his clothes from yesterday to class, he doesn’t care. But she still offers him a clean sweatshirt from that co-op she said she worked at freshman year (don’t laugh, Steven, I had free produce for months) and he puts it on, leaves the hood up to smell more of her while he watches her move around her kitchen from the little table tucked into the corner of the room. Sylvia pads over, sniffs at his bare feet and licks his pinky toe before clawing up the leg of his jeans with her front paws, stretching out and peering up at him. He gives her a cursory pat between her ears, and she doesn’t seem to care for that, a low rumbling noise that sounds like a complaint as she pushes off of his leg and slinks over to settle on the arm of the couch. 

“I have this leftover pumpkin bread, do you want some?” Said over her shoulder while she stirs eggs in a pan, her jeans half-unbuttoned and the hem of her sweater rolled up to expose the bare round of her hip. And it’s a simple thought, but it’s true, he likes looking at her. 

“Is it from the friend who got into sourdough?” 

“Be nice, she just started. And no, it’s from that bakery we went to last weekend.” And so there’s scrambled eggs with sharp cheese, how he likes them, and chopped peppers, how she likes them, and strong coffee, how they both like it, and a heel of pumpkin bread just starting to go stale that they make easy work of, breaking off pieces and dipping it into their coffee, quiet and their knees brushing with how close they are on chairs tucked into her small table. 

He leaves her place with a warm stomach and a swimming mind and the kiss she pressed to his cheek still blooming heat even in the snap of snow and cold. And whatever the professor lectures about in his eleven o’clock class is lost to him, sorry, he’s there but not there. There but still in the doorway of her apartment, and her all but shooing him off because I made you breakfast, that’s enough domesticity for the day, mean but not meaning it. He’d linger in her doorway all day if she let him, he thinks, fail all his classes, be presumed dead to the world, and he’d probably enjoy doing it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Robin in the kitchen when he gets back to their apartment, dipping a banana directly into the peanut butter jar, and he doesn’t have enough of a mind to scold her for it.

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Where’d you get that sweatshirt? Is it new? I haven’t seen it before.” 

“It’s Andy’s.”

“Oh, that’s what’s wrong with you. Did you sleep over? I didn’t hear you come home last night. How is your lady friend?” A waggle of her eyebrows as she pockets her last bite of banana in her cheek. He tries to side step her, and she mimes his movement easy enough, blocking his exit from their kitchen, her grin spreading. 

“Rob, please, I have a paper I need to–” 

“Oh, oh, I know that look.” And before he can ask her what she means by that she’s already shouting down the hall for Eddie because emergency family meeting is needed in the kitchen, thank you very much.

“What’s going on?” Easier to ride this out, to let Robin tug him into the living room and sit him down, Eddie on her heels.

“Steve’s in love.” 

“What? Robin–”

“Wait, with cool girl? Fuck, what’s her name again?”

“This is seriously none of your business, and–”

“Andy, with the boots, you met her last week.”

“We’re both casual, it’s casual, it’s a casual–”

“That’s right. I like her. Good work, Steven, you somehow found someone normal and cool this time. Remember that last chick?” 

“Hey–”

“With the hair?”

“She was–”

“And that perfume, woof.”

“Andy isn’t–”

“I’m pretty sure she was eating my leftovers out of the fridge, you know.” 

“I’m not–”

“No, really? Wouldn’t put it past her, that girl was—”

“Are you two done yet?” Mercifully, it’s enough to get them to stop their little back and forth, mouths shutting and faces turning to look at him like twin imps. 

“You’re in love, Steve, and before you say something like ugh Robin, no I’m not, ugh Robin, how could you possibly know that, I know these things, okay?”

“I don’t talk like that.” Eddie taps in, Robin standing smug with her arms crossed over her chest.

“She’s right, man, you’ve been kinda, well, yeah.” 

“What does that mean?” And what follows is another volley between his wretched roommates, Steve somewhere in the middle, dumbstruck.

“Sighing around the apartment like a kicked dog.”

“Getting snitty when you’re about to leave for one of your dates.”

“You smile like a freak when she’s around. Like a creepy, beautiful, vaguely Germanic doll.”

“You talk about her all the time. Like, all the time.” 

“You’re in love, man.”

“Indubitably so.”

“Hey, I say congrats, I actually like this one. Rob?” 

“I concur, bring her for dinner, this family meeting is adjourned.” Just like that, Robin rubbing her hands together in one loud clap and Steve doesn't even have a chance to get a word in edgewise, both her and Eddie already in their coats and their shoes and out the door because they both have class in twenty and bye, loverboy. He’s left on the couch in something close to a stupor. 

Maybe, probably, definitely he thinks. Though he’s not going to admit that to Robin or Eddie. God forbid they get one right. 

[ereardon]

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Chapter 3

Overview: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

Chapter summary: Y/N and Bob have a close encounter that leads Y/N to ponder cheating on her finace

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 1.2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You could see Bob the moment you stepped out onto the deck. He had his back toward you, his face gazing out at the dark sea. 

You crept up behind him, one hand on his arm. “Hey.” 

He jostled beneath your touch, kind brown eyes looking down behind wire frames. “Hey there.” 

“So what’s the plan?” 

Bob held out one hand. It was steady, nails trimmed neatly, silver watch fastened slightly loosely at the wrist. “Come and see.” 

You let your fingertips rest in his. There was a moment of hesitation before he started to lead me away from the edge of the deck. You saw the flicker of a question cross his eyes in that moment of hesitation. Wondering if he should kiss you or not. 

You found myself disappointed he didn’t. 

He led you across the ship deck, toward the stern. You passed a few people, their eyes darting between you and Bob, down to your hands. 

At the stern of the boat, you were sheltered behind the funnel. Almost immediately, the wind died down. Your flyaway hairs, which has been whipping at your temples, settled. 

“Why weren’t we meeting here the whole time?” you asked. 

“Good question.” 

“So what’s the game plan?” 

Bob smiled. “Do you always need a plan?” 

“You don’t know me very well, but I’m super impatient, and always in a rush. I’m chronically type A. I hate gum because I think hearing people chew is disgusting. And I'll make you stop every hour on a road trip to pee.” 

He leaned closer. “Nothing you’ve just said has turned me off.” 

“Oh, I know, I was trying to turn you on.” 

Bob laughed, and it was contagious. There wasn’t much laughter on a mission like this. He was a breath of fresh air. 

Below deck, Bob led you through a labyrinth of doors through personal quarters before landing at a door at the end of the hall. He turned the handle. 

Inside, white string Christmas lights had been looped around the ceiling. Pressed against a wall was a bed, but massive, like two standard issues had been shoved together. 

You turned to Bob with eyebrows raised. 

“I thought you might be getting sick of listening to me talk. And you’d rather watch a movie instead.” He walked over to the computer monitor facing the bed, plugging in a jack and forcing the screen to light up. “Our options are limited,” he added. “The Lion King. Hercules, or Shrek.” 

You laughed and took a seat on the edge of the bed. It was monumentally more comfortable than your cot out in the barracks. “Love your taste in films.” 

“You’re a little older than my usual movie-watching companions,” he replied. 

“They’re all classics, don’t get me wrong. But I feel like you can’t go wrong with The Lion King.” 

Bob nodded, inserting the DVD as you slid off your shoes, climbing further onto the bed toward the corner. On the desk, you spotted a bottle of pinot noir, and two coffee mugs.

“Where did you get wine?” 

“I have my ways. Is red OK?” 

“It’s perfect.” 

“Good.” He grabbed the remote and then bent down to untie his shoes. When he stood, he flushed, and you patted the space on the bed next to you. An invitation. 

When Mufasa reached up his paw, and Scar let him fall into the valley, you felt Bob’s breath do a sharp intake. You looked up at him, his eyes rapt on the screen, but a small tear had made its way into the corner of his eye. You looked at him for a beat too long, and then worried that he would catch you staring, you turned your head back downwards. This time, you laid your head down on his abdomen, slinging an arm across him. There was a moment of hesitation before his hand came down on your shoulder, gently resting across your upper arm. 

You stayed like that, cuddled together, until the movie was done. As the credits rolled, it was clear neither of you were ready to untangle yourselves. Thirty seconds passed before you pushed yourself up into a seated position facing Bob. “A classic.” 

He nodded. There was something he wasn’t saying. It was clear from his eyes. 

You scooted closer, until your knees were touching his. “What are you thinking?” 

“That no matter how many times I watch this movie, it never ceases to impress me.” 

“Strong feelings for a Disney movie, but I get it.” 

“I had a patient once,” Bob said. “He was six. His father had just died, and he was dying, too. One day he asked me to watch a movie with him. It was the end of a call shift, so I stayed, and we watched The Lion King. I’ll never forget the way he broke down when Scar let Mufasa fall. And all I could do was hold his hand and tell him it was just a movie. But it wasn’t just a movie. That was his real life. He wasn’t going to wake up the next day and see his dad. He might not even wake up the next day. What do you say to someone like that?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t know.” 

“Nobody does. And that’s what makes it so hard. All you want to do is tell them it’ll get better. But sometimes that just isn’t true.” 

“You do the best you can. That’s all anyone can ask for.” 

Bob was quiet. You reached up, placing both hands on either side of his head, slowly stroking his blond hair. As you started to pull back, his hands shot out and gripped your wrists. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “But I won’t.” 

“Why?” You were breathless. 

“Because you deserve a really amazing first kiss. And I don’t want our first kiss to be because you feel bad for me.” 

“That’s not it.” 

He pressed his eyes closed for a second. “Even if it isn’t, you still deserve more.” 

You laid back on the bed. Bob mimicked your movements so you were facing each other. “It’s nice how highly you think of me,” you murmured. “But don’t.” 

“I can’t help it.” Bob trailed his fingers over your hip. “Can I ask you something? And feel free to say no, no matter how pathetic I look.” 

“Anything.” 

He was timid. You could see it in every line across his face. The way his voice shook as he spoke. “Will you stay here tonight? You don’t have to. I promise I won’t try anything. I just really want you here.” 

“Yes.” You said it without hesitation. His smile – soft, quiet, harrowing – was enough to get you to commit murder. Another girl would say no, go back to her bunk, contemplate what she had done to get herself into that position. Another girl, a better girl, would feel guilty.

But guilt felt like a far off whisper. Instead, you were overcome by excitement. It bubbled in your chest. 

Being with Bob made you feel weightless. And that terrified you. 

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[legally-allowed-to-slime]

It was damp.

The wind blew her stomach into a hollow carcass, rib cage like thin and lonely bones in the desert. A limp, dead glow from the anglerfish took the place of any twinkling stars, and two fish circled her lighthouse in a silent and eternal dance.

Gem shivered and allowed a fixed smile to materialise.

She could feel it, tingling in her bones every time she stepped on a dock or flicked out a rod, running through her in unsteady cracks that spread into flashes.

Electricity and water didn’t mix. Rather, they mixed too well, and she had a feeling she was the conductor of this jumbled orchestra.

Her skin felt numb, night air stinging her. Even Grian had advised her against staying up for nights on end, at least not to the point where her flesh felt like ice even in broad daylight. And the man himself had casted his rod thousands of times in just weeks.

She had to admit it was taking its toll on her.

Trembling, Gem grabbed her rod, moving methodically, like she was the dead left alive. Her heart rumbled around, refusing to give her relief. She felt suffocated. Need air.

Need water.

She gasped, and clung onto the railing to stabilise herself, lungs twisting in pain. Gem grabbed the canteen at her side and exhaled in frustration after finding it empty.

Something lurking inside, spurring her on made her lean over the side of the boat and scoop up the seawater, bringing the canteen to her mouth in one fluid motion, before gulping the whole thing down. It didn’t taste salty. Just refreshing.

Um. Okay.

The air was cold.

Gem forced herself to relax and began to pull up the net, the seawater that dampened the ropes warming her hands. The water sloshed and creaked around the hull.

There was a sudden splash a few feet away, and she startled, watching the spot carefully. A purposefully moving shade rippled in the waves and disappeared.

She’d been seeing more of those recently, though she wasn’t sure if it was just sleep deprivation-induced hallucinations, or a trick of the dark. Maybe it was both.

Gem gripped the sword at her waist, waiting for any signs of disturbance.

The clouds creeped across the horizon.

Silence. Nothing but the ocean glinting under the muted moonlight.

A minute passed, then another. She started to relax. Maybe the fishing really was just getting to her head—

—was what she was thinking, as something, some thing’s gaping jaw revealed too many teeth growing from slimy gums, grey and green and every other colour on the spectrum and beyond fading into an abyss that threatened to consume. She couldn’t see anything, blindness taking over her, erasing everything that ever existed.

Gem bit her tongue so hard she tasted iron. Hands shaking, she barely managed to fumble her sword out and blindly swung it, shutting her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see anything as she died.

The thing growled, and Gem’s feet were glued to the deck.

Silence hung in the air, time agonisingly ticking.

Then there was a low swish, a shake, a splash, and then nothing.

A soft drizzle started, pattering onto the water’s surface and settling on her shoulders.

Gem forced herself to pry her eyes open. The water crinkled innocently at her, and somehow, she had the feeling she’d been let go.

(For now.)

The ocean rocked beneath her, and not too far away, lightning struck.

[kingofthe-egirls]

SEAGULLS: LUFFY x Y/N (sfw)

(cw: kissing, est relationship, kitsune self-insert, snackies, sillyness, tickling)

(a/n: @stargirldelight @zwhoreo @anemptypuddingcup @jessysapphireblue hi i made a sfw fic about luffy aka my adhd boyfriend)

****

Luffy loves holding your hand.

“Hey!” Luffy sings, hopping up beside you on the ship’s railing. You’re sketching: hunched over your sketchbook as you chew your cheek.

“Hi, baby!” You chirp happily, ears pointed forward as you greet him.

“Seagulls!!” Luffy says, swiping your sketchbook to hold in front of his face. He grins, proudly. “My girlfriend is so cool!”

You’ve dotted some water color along the page: blue and turquoise, with orangey-yellow spotted in the middle. You’ve sketched a flock of seagulls flying overhead, inking them in with the black calligraphy pen Sanji uses for recipes. (He’d let you borrow it for sketching—after he caught you stealing it…twice).

Captain Luffy pokes your cheek. “What about me, kitty? How’s your boyfriend?”

“So fucking cool!!” You squeal, jumping up with your sketchbook clutched to your chest. “You’re so cute!!!” You squirm, fidgeting in place, before you spring up to wrap your arms around his neck. He lets you swing with your feet off the ground. “Hehehe!” You scrunch your eyes up as he snickers, too.

He rubs his nose against your face.

“Sanji said it’s meatballs tonight,” Luffy informs you seriously, “We have to steal some before bed mkay? So make sure you’re sneaky!!” He stage whispers to you, sniffing at your hair. He scratches a hand into your scalp, thumbing at the base of your fox ears. “Hm, kitty? Sounds fun to you?” He stares at you with sparkly eyes, and you nod eagerly.

“Mhmm!!”

He snickers, stretching his neck down so your feet touch the ground. You let him go so he can snap down from his spot on the railing. His sandals thwack against the deck.

“Let’s go see if he’s made any snacks yet,” you suggest, swiping Luffy’s hand into yours. You squeeze his rough, calloused palm, and he grins. He stretches his other arm all the way out to the door of the kitchen, and you barely have time to gasp before you’re gum-gum rocketing across the ship. You both slam into the closed door with a bang!

“Shit!”

You swear, standing up to shove Luffy over in revenge. He snickers, so you open a portal beneath the sea to open over his head. Luffy screeches as a bucket of seawater gets dumped on his head.

You snap the portal shut.

“Hey, sea water’s no fair!!!”

You snort, but once you see his expression you turn tail(s) to run.

“Bad kitty!!!”

He shouts as he chases you around the ship, both of you screaming and laughing as you go. You portal to his cabin, slamming the door shut. He barges in seconds after, knocking you down onto the floor. He’s soaking wet and snickering, and he gets at your stomach to tickle you in revenge.

“S-stop—ahhahaha!” You giggle and gasp as he scritches your belly, your sides, your arm pits. You squirm helplessly around on the floor, as Luffy leers over you with a monkey’s grin.

“Say you’re sorry!!”

“Sorr—haha—sorry!!!”

He lets you go, and you both sit up. You’re all sweaty. Luffy snickers, leaning back on his hands. He knocks his sandals together.

“Snacks!!” You cry, suddenly remembering. Luffy springs up, grabbing you by the waist to wrap your limbs around him. Like a koala.

He kisses your nose.

And then he’s rocketing across the ship like nothing happened in the first place.

Snackies turn out to be buttered popcorn with savory spices and asiago cheese. Sanji hands you the bowl delicately, bowing deeply. He throws Luffy’s bowl as hard as he can at Luffy’s face.