#Rose is really big into pride parades

[tvstarkuma]

" well, i figure if you're gonna work at junes, y'need your own name tag, right? but y'know, a name tag has a last name, too. " he's presenting the little object in hand, reaching to pin it onto teddie's junes apron, smiling to himself as he pulls back, name all in capital letters. " so, you're a hanamura. welcome to the family, bear. "

A name wasn't anything important to him back then. At the start, there was a bear alone in a world created by humanity's deepest desires. Neither had a name and he was fine that way. He barely counted as a person. A being parading an empty smile for an audience that would never come.

Until, one day, the people he was born to please finally came. And the bear was given something he never had on his own: a name and an identity. To this day he held those things in great pride. He embraced them and made them fully his own. From that day forward he finally began to enjoy being himself.

Teddie never paid any mind to Junes' nametag rule. To be fair, there were many rules he ignored so the rose he had in place of a nametag was very low on the other staff's priority list. Even now he looked down at the nametag curiously as Yosuke began to pin it on Teddie's apron. The weight of the situation didn't begin to fall on the blonde's shoulders until he read the name on the tag. "Teddie" alone wasn't written there. As Yosuke stated, he needed a last name, something he never had since the dawn of his existence. He was born from nothing, among no one, with no name or title. Now, here, he at last had a full name.

On the nametag his new full name was written: "TEDDIE HANAMURA".

Teddie's hand grabbed the nametag. He held on to that entire area on his apron with a tight grip that could not be ripped apart by anything as if his entire life depended on it. Tears filled his big, blue eyes faster than he could blink. Already he began to sniffle.

"R...Really...? You mean it?!" He stammered as his throat tightened and his tears began to drip down his face.

Yosuke didn't just write down his last name, he also invited the bear to this family. Teddie's never had a family before. There wasn't anyone in his world besides himself and the shadows. He has his friends now but never a family like they all did. A family was a mom, dad, brother, and sister, right? Then uncles and cousins, too. He heard about those two from his Sensei. If he was a Hanamura then that made Yosuke and him family. He wanted Teddie to stay with him not just as a friend but as an official member of his family. Family lived together, loved each other, and were always at each other's side no matter what. Teddie would love that!

"YOSUKEE!" Teddie couldn't hold his tears any longer and began to sob as he at last let go of his apron to pull the brunette into a tight hug "I'm keeping this nametag forever! No matter what! I'll tell everyone my name is Teddie Hanamura! I want to be your family, and go on trips, and take photos, and have breakfast, and live together because I love you!" Yosuke's apron and shirt were officially wet from all of Teddie's tears and snot bubbles. And Teddie didn't show any signs of wanting to let go.

"Years and years from now, I'll always be Teddie Hanamura!"

[dybynyght]

An Okay Pretender III (Bowser X Reader)

A/N: The last chapter felt a tad short, so here's the next. Again, apologies if our Fire King is a bit OOC. I had a bit of a difficult time pinpointing but thank you for still tuning in if you do. 😭 Word Count: 720

You weren't sure if word had reached the Princess or the others. Bowser saw it fit to bring along the castle retainers and hold them prisoner. A little incentive to stop you from leaving. You wouldn't abandon them–you couldn't–and with them here with you in the Koopa King's castle, there wasn't anyone capable of venturing out for help. You honestly didn't have that much faith in the village Toads and knew many of them didn't even know that you were standing in for their beloved Princess. Were they even capable of leaving their homeland for help? You didn't fight the heavy sigh that left your lips.

Your holding cell was a tower–a major step up from the cages Peach had told you about in her past–and despite it being far from your tastes, it was accommodating and had the luxuries you would've found back at Peach's castle. 

"He'll have to guess something's up when no one comes for us." You whispered as you took a seat on the bedroom bench. "And what then? Chances are he'll go right back to trying to take over Peach's kingdom. Which really isn't gonna fare well for anyone. Especially me!" A small pout jutted onto your lips. "No one's gonna trust me to handle anything at that point…" Maybe you were missing the big picture at that moment, but the thought of disappointing the few people who seemed to find your presence a joy weighed just as heavily as possible total domination from a foreign ruler. 

Your eyes took to the gaping window carved out of stone and gazed at the black clouds that blanketed the skies. Thick, heavy and inky enough to block out all view of anything beyond what was kept within the realm and with a slight crane of your neck, you could glimpse the sea of lava resting along the perimeter of the castle. Having seen enough, you huffed. The only way out was through the front door and there was no way in hell you'd be allowed to waltz out. Unless…

Your chamber–you refused to call your cell 'your room'–lattice unbolted and in paraded your captor himself. His stride prideful as always but dashed with a slight air of caution. Though you figured you were just imagining things. Stiffening up just so, you hardened your face and kept your eyes locked on your folded hands.

"Still upset, Starling?" He asked as he carefully nudged your chin upwards after kneeling before you, directing your gaze to his.

"I hardly find anything worth being happy about at the moment." Slowly, you edged back, pulling away as you did. "Besides, we both know how this will end. No doubt Mario's on his way now! So, how about we save you the embarrassment, and you let me go?"

At the mention of Mario's name, a trail of smoke left his nostrils as his brows knitted in annoyance. You bit down on your lower lip and quickly averted your gaze. It was worth a shot to ask. "Wha-What of my subjects? I want to see them." You piped up in hopes of quelling his sudden spell of anger, raising your head just so to peek up at him from beneath your lashes.

You watched as he visibly jolted, he rose to his feet and his arms crossed over his chest as a soft pink dusted his cheeks. The valley between his brows softened as a somewhat tender gaze rested on your form. "Sorry Starling, but no can do."

"You don't trust me?" 

"You and I both know what you're capable of. You're staying here." 

"Your guards could accompany me." You pressed. "You trust them, don't you?"

Bowser guffawed, his laughter seemingly shaking the very walls of the room. You didn't need any further response than that. You've seen even Luigi tussle with them and win. That was explanation enough.

"Alright," You muttered, feeling a tad embarrassed. "Then…why don't you accompany me?"

The room quickly fell silent at your suggestion and for a second, you assumed he was simply mulling over the offer but the look on his face said otherwise. He already had his answer, the real battle was whether or not he should say it as quickly as it came. One, of course, beat out the other.

"It would be your pleasure, Princess."

~~~

@lithebunnyq

[panic-and-procrastinate-writing]

Love & Hate

i think i have an idea of how my lantern oc got their rings! Being queer is a VERY big part of their identity, bc of the amount of trauma surrounding it. Tw: homophobia, transphobia and violence.

i imagine they would have had a very passive agressive family when it comes to being nonbinary and pansexual, it would be variations of “you’re just confused” to “why can’t you go back to be a girl? all these pronouns are so difficult.” and it would make them resent their family very very much.

they manage to go low conact with their family, moving out and really only seeing them on birthdays, but it all comes to head one day when they’re at pride.

it was a beautiful day in london, July. They’re happy, dancing and laughing with their community and friends, celebrating themselves and how far they had come. The sun beaming down graciously on all the queers that walked the parade, making their gitter eyeshadow twinkle. 

but theres gun shots, and screaming, and Lantern is on the floor choking on tear gas as it fills the crowd. through blurry vision, lantern can see police boots marching in, riot gear and guns, shooting at people running away.

sensless violence ensued, and lantern watches with horror as their community, their family, are gunned down in front of their eyes.

A gun is raised to their teary face, but a plaid shirt blocks the bullets.

They laid there for minutes, staring at the pronoun badge underneath this persons body as the police coninuted to shoot them. Eventually they walked away, leaving a strangers corpse ontop of lanterns body.

when the police marched further down, and the sound of their guns became faint, their bodies dissapearing in the foggy tear gas. lantern crawled out from under the corpse, and looked at the person who saved their life.

they didn’t recognise them. a stranger. A butch in a plaid shirt and a he/him pronoun badge had saved their life, not knowing them at all.

Stricken by untold greif and rage, they cried and cried and cried until their throat went hoarse with screaming.  

It wasn’t fair. How loving and selfless he was, to give his life for a stranger they didn’t know, just becuase he was apart of the same community. Because thats what family did, protect each other. 

Warmth was blossoming in their chest, a fire so raging and passionate it made the tears on their face feel cold.

They loved their community, the lengths they would go to, to protect each other.

They hated their oppressors, and themselves, for this shouldn’t have happened at all.

As they cradled their beloved queer sibling in their arms and mourned the deaths of so many others, twin beams of light descend on the earth, red and violet slotting themselves on their fingers.

“You have great rage in your heart.”

“You have great love in your heart.”

Pain like that of a blistering iron being stabbed into their chest, Euphoria like that of hot fingers running across their skin, boiling blood rushing through their veins, they screamed as the two sensations of pure elation and pure pain melded into nothing but heat, and they felt themselves cacoon into a marvel of crystal, a giant garnet.

When they emerged, the caccoon shattered, and the police that were crowding them with guns where blown back by the force of them breaking free.

A red violet lantern rose into the sky, their passion melting the tarmack below them. Vengeance would be had, and their love, their family, would be protected.

[screamingharpy]

Get the boy that I love back

Get married ✅

Have a paint fight

Visit Disneyworld

Visit Ireland

Have a whipped cream fight

Go on a cruise

Use a Ouija board

Play hide and seek in a foam pit

Move out of jersey✅

Go outdoor rock climbing

Visit London

Buy my first home✅

Get a rib cage tattoo

Learn to cook✅

Drive a Porsche

Have a hammock

get a perry the platypus tattoo

take a bubble bath with him

go to mardi gras

visit Scotland

have a cat named Tobi

have a husky

pole dance

tell everyone what you really think about them

make a relationship work✅

try sushi✅

see a Broadway play.

Name my child after a Disney character

Stay naked for an entire day

Go to Asbury park zombie walk

Go to zombie prom

Go skinny dipping

Ride a motorcycle

Participate in a gay pride parade

Have sex on a water bed

Compete in a golf tournament✅

Swim in every ocean

Learn to backward skate

Experience 0 gravity

Go to Vegas

Road trip to Alaska through Canada

Learn a whole song on piano

Spend the night in a haunted mansion

Try real Japanese ramen✅

Be in a flash mob

Cosplay

Go to blizzcon

Go to comiccon

Graduate/finish college✅

Pay off college debt✅

Fly in a plane✅

Meet selena gomez

Visit NYC

Be fluent in sign language

Try deep fried ice cream

Let go of floating laterns

Go kayaking with the one I love

Have “mermaid hair”

Have a 50th wedding anniversary

Get tan

Have a heated in ground pool

Have a pool party.

Become a suicide girl

Get a disney tattoo

Learn to surf

Take a trapeze class

Ride the worlds fastest roller coaster

Get rid of the negativity in my life

Receive my Hogwarts acceptance letter

Get a UV tattoo

Visit every location in Weird New Jersey

Have spiral stairs in my house/apartment

Where my mommoms wedding dress✅

Become a forensic scientist

Lose 20lbs

Camp out on the beach

Have a mud fight

Slow dance in the rain

Receive a dozen red roses

Try different foods

Hold up a free hug sign

Become a vegetarian

Swim with dolphins

Swim with sea turtles

Have rainbow hair

Go parasailing

Live to meet my grandchildren

Take a homeless person out to dinner

Read to children in the hospital with cancer

Donate my hair to find the cure for cancer

Have a big family

Grow old with the man I love

Go to a disco club

See a tornado✅

Have a pet fox

Own a horse

See gay marriage legalized every where

Go zip lining

Shoot a gun✅

Go to Hollywood✅

Attend a gay wedding

Be on tv

Think about going paintballing???

Play laser tag

Play laser tag drunk.

My Bucket List

1.    Get the boy that I love back 2.    Get married 3.    Have a paint fight 4.    Visit Disneyworld 5.    Visit Ireland 6.    Have a whipped cream fight 7.    Go on a cruise 8.    Use a Ouija board 9.    Play hide and seek in a foam pit 10.    Move out of jersey 11.    Go outdoor rock climbing 12.    Visit London 13.    Buy my first home 14.    Get a rib cage tattoo 15.    Learn to cook 16.    Drive a Porsche 17.    Have a hammock 18.    get a perry the platypus tattoo 19.    take a bubble bath with him 20.    go to mardi gras 21.    visit Scotland 22.    have a cat named Tobi 23.    have a husky 24.    pole dance 25.    tell everyone what you really think about them 26.    make a relationship work 27.    try sushi 28.    see a Broadway play. 29.    Name my child after a Disney character 30.    Stay naked for an entire day 31.    Go to Asbury park zombie walk 32.    Go to zombie prom 33.    Go skinny dipping 34.    Ride a motorcycle 35.    Participate in a gay pride parade 36.    Have sex on a water bed 37.    Compete in a golf tournament 38.    Swim in every ocean 39.    Learn to backward skate 40.    Experience 0 gravity 41.    Go to Vegas 42.    Road trip to Alaska through Canada 43.    Learn a whole song on piano 44.    Spend the night in a haunted mansion 45.    Try real Japanese ramen 46.    Be in a flash mob 47.    Cosplay 48.    Go to blizzcon 49.    Go to comiccon 50. Graduate/finish college 51. Pay off college debt 52.  Fly in a plane 53. Meet selena gomez 54. Visit NYC 55.  Be fluent in sign language 56. Try deep fried ice cream 57. Let go of floating laterns 58. Go kayaking with the one I love 59. Have “mermaid hair” 60.  Have a 50th wedding anniversary 61. Get tan 62.  Have a heated in ground pool 63. Have a pool party. 64. Become a suicide girl 65. Get a disney tattoo 66.  Learn to surf 67. Take a trapeze class 68. Ride the worlds fastest roller coaster 69. Get rid of the negativity in my life 70. Receive my Hogwarts acceptance letter 71. Get a UV tattoo 72. Visit every location in Weird New Jersey 73. Have spiral stairs in my house/apartment 74. Where my mommoms wedding dress 75. Become a forensic scientist 76. Lose 20lbs 77. Camp out on the beach 78. Have a mud fight 79. Slow dance in the rain 80. Receive a dozen red roses 81. Try different foods 82. Hold up a free hug sign 83. Become a vegetarian 84. Swim with dolphins 85. Swim with sea turtles 86. Have rainbow hair 87. Go parasailing 88. Live to meet my grandchildren 89. Take a homeless person out to dinner 90. Read to children in the hospital with cancer 91. Donate my hair to find the cure for cancer 92. Have a big family 93. Grow old with the man I love 94. Go to a disco club 95. See a tornado 96. Have a pet fox 97. Own a horse 98. See gay marriage legalized every where 99. Go zip lining 100. Shoot a gun 101. Go to Hollywood 102. Attend a gay wedding 103. Be on tv 104. Think about going paintballing??? 105. Play laser tag 106. Play laser tag drunk.

[thelaurenshippen]

Would Caleb, Adam, Chloe and Mark be people to celebrate Pride? Would they go to Pride marches?

Mark celebrated Pride in college and would have continued to do so had he not been, you know, kidnapped and all. He’ll probably eventually get back into it, but he’s not quite up to it yet, I think. 

Adam definitely would, though he hasn’t yet. He’s been out to his parents for a while and, like Caleb said, most of the school knew Adam was gay, but Adam hasn’t really had a community of LGBT+ friends until Caleb and Chloe came into his life (he didn’t really have any friends tbh). Now that he has people to celebrate with, he’d love to go to a march or a community event. 

But the tricky thing with Chloe and Caleb is that neither of them love crowds, for obvious ability-related reasons. Caleb could potentially have a lot of fun at a Pride march - all that joy and excitement in the crowd - but there’s so many unknown factors. Same thing with Chloe - the rainbow spectrum of thoughts would probably be a fun time - but any extended period of time in large groups really wears her out. 

If they celebrate this year (remember it’s still November 2016 in the podcast), they’ll probably do a small dinner/movie night with just the group. 

[astoryisaloveaffair]

Run Through the Jungle - a Naked & Afraid/Triple Frontier AU

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

*reader is vegetarian and ethnicity/weight inclusive. people of all sizes have competed on this show (and completed it)

Fic Summary: Benny Miller convinces his bestie Frankie to compete on the Naked and Afraid survival show. He has no idea what he’s walking into when he’s paired with you

*Naked and Afraid is a reality survival show on Discovery Channel where two contestants, a man and a woman (trans & non-binary inclusive) are paired with no food, clothes, or water in a hostile environment with only 1 survival item each. Contestants can tap out at any time but must make it to 21 days to win

Read on A03

Inspiration Spotify Playlist: Frankie’s Jungle Love Mix

»»———————►

Word Count: 20K

Rating: E, 18+, lemon

Warnings: large age gap (legal), size kink, discussions of killing, processing, and eating animals, cussing, PiV, oral (f & m), dirty talk, masturbation (m), face fucking, somnophilia, enemies to lovers, Pride and Prejudice vibes, ANGST, Frankie being a misogynistic DICK for a little bit

A/N: Someone needs to fucking stop me because my brain is ignoring SO MANY WIPS RIGHT NOW! HELP! This unasked for one shot was bred out of a binge watch weekend of this show, mentioning it in passing to @musings-of-a-rose​, who then had the audacity to ask me, “what if Frankie were on that show?” and this is what happened.  This is an AU. Triple Frontier hasn’t happened yet or won’t, I haven’t decided. Frankie doesn’t have kids yet. I hope you enjoy it, I’m really in love with this story.

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even think they’d pick him.

His friends had suggested it to him as a joke. Benny had apparently really gotten into the show and thought it would be awesome if Frankie applied. And by ‘awesome’, he really meant ‘hysterical’.

After years of service and traumatizing missions, Frankie had felt completely lost after his retirement from Delta Force. Antsy, paranoid, ill at ease. Nothing seemed to help, not therapy, drugs, sex, coaching Benny…nothing.

Until they had all gone on a camping trip a few years ago. And he loved it. For some reason, when he was out there, all the voices in his head went silent. The only things he heard were the environment and what he needed to do to conquer it, to survive it. Living in shitty situations was second nature, and the simplicity of focusing solely on what he needs to survive and how to get it narrowed his focus and quieted the demons in his head. 

When they got home, he began taking any primitive survival course he could. Shelter building. Fire making. How to find potable water. Making and setting traps. Primitive weapon building. 

After years of practice and hands-on experience, he started volunteering as a survival guide of his own. He’d never been happier, or more at peace.

He’d never seen the show, he wasn’t big on reality TV, but the prospect intrigued him. It would be the ultimate challenge, a way to prove himself and know for sure he’s the survivalist he thinks he is. So he applied.

And he got it.

It was a whirlwind after that. A parade of paperwork, zoom interviews, in person interviews, vaccinations, taking off from work, and eating everything he could set his sight on. Before he knew it he was hugging his friends goodbye, assuring them he wouldn’t give up, and after many kisses from his mother, he hopped a plane to head to Colombia for 21 days Naked and Afraid.

Survival he wasn’t worried about. He knew he would make it 21 days and beat the jungle. It was the ‘naked’ part. And the ‘working with an unknown woman’ part, that had him concerned. He wasn’t in the best shape, and now his ass would be traipsing around the rainforest for the entire world to see. 

He’d thought about what he would want in a partner, what he wouldn’t. Someone older and capable, who wasn’t afraid of getting dirty. Someone who took direction well, wasn’t a burden, and hopefully somewhat attractive, since he’d be looking at her naked for three weeks. Hopefully she wouldn’t find him gross either, and the two of you would work well as a team. No princesses. No damsels. Preferably ex-military.

-Day One-

The ride was sobering. Sitting in the back of a bumpy Jeep Cherokee driven by a local while he props himself in front of the camera-men for his final interview before insertion. His heart is hammering in his chest at all the uncertainty, the slight self-doubt that always shadows the back of his mind rattling his nerves just enough to trigger his fight or flight. He just wanted to get it started already.

The Colombian jungle is oppressive even on the wide, bumpy dirt road cutting through it, and Frankie can feel the dense green pressing in on him, like it wants to keep him out. But it’s beautiful and rich, the air is humid but not terribly unpleasant yet. Certainly no worse than anything he’d camped in while in service. And this time he wouldn’t have to be worried about being shot at.

The jeep lurches as it stops and Frankie hops out, taking a heavy breath. He turns to the camera. “Alright well. Here we go.” He swallows and hesitates for a moment before sliding out of his flip flops and pulling his shirt off, the self consciousness of his softened tummy screaming loud in his ears. There’s been way worse on this show. Don’t worry about it.

He pushes through it, unbuttoning his pants and shoving his shorts and boxers off in one go, turning to toss everything in the back of the Jeep before saying one more signoff and entering the jungle to find his partner.

A small crew follows behind him with strict orders not to interact. A few camera-men, a producer, a medic, all will be camped nearby with all the resources he won’t have. He’s surprised it doesn’t feel more strange to have a camera almost up his ass, but it doesn’t really, not with everything else on his mind. It’s not long before he forgets about them all together as he continues down the hill through the trees to meet his partner.

To meet you.

----

You’re definitely nervous. This isn’t your first survival rodeo, but this is a whole different animal. It’s the Everest of survival challenges. You had no idea what was going to happen, but you were excited for it.

You weren’t fooling yourself. You weren’t out here to “make nature your bitch”, or conquer it. Because that would never happen. Nature conquers you. And you need to respect it to survive it. You think about your potential partner and hope he isn’t one of those uber machismo toxic energy guys who think the woman should stay back and tend the fire, tend to the shelter. Because that wasn’t you, not at all. You were young, yes, but you’re capable and confident, and you hope he won’t look down on you. You didn’t want to be passive, you wanted to do, you wanted to see what you were capable of. And you really hated being told what to do.

Maybe after this, when someone called you strong you’d actually believe it.

Nudity didn’t bother you. You didn’t really understand why people made such a big deal out of it anyways, it was just tits and ass. You shed your clothes with no hesitation, turning to smirk and wave at the camera before bounding in to meet your partner.

It takes long enough before you see him that you question for a second if this wasn’t all just some huge joke, but finally you see the flash of golden skin moving towards you between the trees as your partner appears before you with a goofy smile on his face.

You look right at his dick. Fuck, you just zing right to it against your willpower because it was big with a nice healthy patch of pubic hair and you hope to whatever is out there he didn’t catch you looking. Luckily when you jerk your eyes up and away he makes no indication he knew where you were looking.

“Um…hi.” He says, and you smile when you see the warmth in his eyes, the mop of curls on his head that are starting to wilt under the humidity. 

This shit was awkward every time, even as a viewer, so you said ‘fuck it’ and opened your arms for a hug. “Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you!” You feel him melt a little as you roll onto your tiptoes and pat his shoulders and it makes you feel a little better that he’s clearly nervous too. You release him and take a step back. You tell him your name and he tells you his. 

There’s an awkward silence, breaking as the two of you giggle nervously. You clear your throat. “Well, now that that’s over with….do you wanna see what’s in our bags?”

“Yea.” He turns to stand beside you where two burlap messenger bags are hanging from a tree, one for each of you. With him closer to you it’s easy to see how gigantic he is, his frame dwarfing yours. You sneak a look at his arms while he rifles through the bag, they are built but not ripped, golden skin lined with little freckles and scars. He was much older, you could see the gray hairs at his temple, but he seemed hearty.

“What did you bring?” 

You look up to see him staring at you, like he’s already analyzing what your skillset is. You can’t really blame him. “I brought a fire starter. What about you?”

He pulls out a sheathed machete, withdrawing the blade to show you. “This.”

“Oh, awesome, that will be really helpful. And I think I have the map too.” You pull the map out and angle towards him so the two of you can plan your route. You can see his mind structuring a plan as his eyes dart around the vague map, the most unique hooked nose twitching while he thinks.

“Looks like there’s a river down here, and we will need to follow it anyway for extraction later. I’d be able to hopefully catch some game or some fish there.” He slides a thick finger across the page along the river to an X at the mouth of the river, where the jungle breaks and opens up to the sea. “So we should head there.”

You nod, adding your input. “I agree. But not too close. There are jaguars in this jungle and I don’t want to be in the middle of a game trail.” He nods and the two of you take off further into the jungle, the crew trailing quietly behind you. “So, Francisco, tell me some more about you.”

He pauses from leading the way, turning towards you and resting a palm on a thin tree. His fingers drag across the bark of it. “Oh.” He laughs, his smile is warm and he has a little dimple in one of his cheeks. “Fuck, I didn’t even…I’m already in ‘mission mode.’ And you can call me Frankie.” 

You chuckle with him, trying to make him more comfortable. “Okay.  So…Frankie. I’m guessing you’re ex-military?”

He nods. “Yea. Special Forces. I was a helicopter pilot. But, now I fly them contractually, do tours of the Rockies and stuff. I volunteer as a survival instructor in my spare time. You?”

You tell him where you're from and a little about your job and experiences as the two of you continue walking, promising each other you won’t let the other quit the challenge.

“So what are your skills that you bring to this challenge?”

You quirk your eyebrow up when he sneaks a glance at you, but again, you can hardly be offended by the question, considering. “I can build a lot of shelters and can make fire just about anywhere, I also know how to make baskets and cordage from various plants. And I’m vegetarian, so I have a lot of knowledge about what is edible, what is poisonous, and what can be used as resources.”

“You're…vegetarian?”

“Yes.”

“How do you intend to survive without any protein?” He sounds incredulous and it kind of pisses you off.

“Exactly how I told you. There are plenty of plants that provide protein.”

“...Okay, if you say so.”

“And what about you?” You retort. “What’re your skills?”

“Hunting and trapping, weapon-making, but I can build shelters and make fires also.”

Not a competition dude. You’re trying to keep an open mind, but your heart seized up when you realized he was a soldier. In your experience, they are extraordinarily stubborn, and often very misogynistic. 

You hold your tongue and the two of you chat off and on as you make your way to the river. Other than his brusque questioning, the two of you get along well so far. It takes longer to get through the jungle barefoot than you anticipated, and when you see the position of the sun through a break in the canopy, you usher each other to speed up. You don’t have all day, and you still need to make a shelter, build a fire, and find water.

When you reach the river, you find a spot rather easily. There’s space tucked against a large tree that would be big enough for both of you. Frankie proposes a lean to shelter with a platform utilizing the tree and you agree. Sleeping on the ground amongst the bugs was not high on your “to-experience” list. The two of you separate to gather the materials to build it. Since he has the machete, he focuses on chopping and cutting branches for the frame while you harvest what you would need for cordage, padding and roofing. As you wander through the foliage grabbing palm fronds, leaves, and any edible nuts and berries, you take the time to take in your surroundings. 

The trees were more spread out closer to the river, it let the sun shine through and warm your skin, dappling the surface of the river with its beams. You had chosen a spot with a large bank, a calm currant and easy to wade through, more of a stream than a river, your shelter planned about 40 feet up the hill. You could hear Frankie hacking away out of your line of vision, and you plead to the air that he doesn’t over-exert himself trying to put on a show.

The humidity and heat has already increased, and you feel it take its toll on you only just a few hours in. It would be so easy for him to be reckless and over-do it. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was medically tapped out because they didn’t listen to their body. You try to focus instead on the soft ripple of the water, of the jungle birds above you, the occasional monkey hooting with disgust at your presence. 

You make several trips, and after a couple hours, you and Frankie have collected a sizable amount of materials. You urge him to take a break after so much activity but he blows it off.

“We don’t have much time left before it gets dark. I’ll be fine..”

You try again. “A small break won’t hurt Frankie. I’m worried about you getting dehydrated.” He blows you off again, further cementing your perception that he wants to be ‘the man’ and keep control in the situation. It had been a long walk to where you were supposed to go, and you knew you would have to take some time to-replenish eventually. You decide to pick your battles  and turn to start constructing a fire bed with leaves and dry debris next to where the platform will go. Your quiet work draws his attention, and he finally does come over to you and plops down on the ground beside you.

This was the defining moment, you knew. You needed to assert that you belonged here, that your opinions had validity, that you have just as good of a skillset. You breathe in, centering yourself before bending down and striking the flint of the fire-starter against the kindling. 

It takes only 6 strikes, the ember flaring up in the pile of debris as Frankie cheers you on. You lean in to blow on it so it will spread while he hustles to get you more leaves, throwing them on in excitement before pulling you up into a hug. You can’t stop smiling at the praise.

“That was awesome! You did that so fast! Good girl, good job!”

You wouldn’t process that’s what he said until much later.

----

Fuck, you were cute. You were cute and young and he could not believe he looked straight at your tits first thing before yanking his gaze back up to your eyes. He hoped you hadn’t noticed. He had thought he would die from mortification, but you dove right in for a hug, setting him at ease despite the fact your boobs were now on him. But you didn’t care, and it makes him feel silly for being self-conscious. He wasn’t here for…that. Though it’d been a while. And you had a nice ass.

He had hesitations, you were half his age and a vegetarian at that, and he worried you wouldn’t be able to back up the skills you claimed. But you proved him wrong, getting right to work and starting a fire faster than he’d ever seen anyone.

He’d pushed hard, he knew he shouldn’t and knew your opinion about it, but he felt the need to work harder, to prove himself to you, maybe even impress you. Not for any romantic reason, but he wants you to feel safe, provided for, making sure all the heavy tasks were firmly his territory.

After securing the fire you’d immediately direct him on how to shave bamboo to boil water in, and before long, the two of you had potable water that actually tasted pleasant. Frankie hadn’t realized how dehydrated he’d been, and when he drank it felt like he could actually feel the water being distributed in his system. You were right. You were good. Not that he doubted it. You’d made it on this show, after all.

And now you were on the ground on the batch of leaves beside a half constructed frame, so fucking close to him, his body almost spooning yours. It’d taken much longer to build the shelter and re-hydrate than he thought it would, and he begs silently for the night to go by smoothly. 

You’re curled away from him barely 5 inches away, the fire beside you as you try to settle down for the night. You had both agreed that if it got cold enough, you were both alright with cuddling for warmth.

He can smell the scent of your hair and the slight tang of dirt and perspiration, your skin looks young and soft in the low light of the fire and he almost wants to wrap his arm around you to bring you closer, get warmer, keep you safe. He doesn’t. He’s warm enough for now.

----

Frankie jerks up out of the nest, his ears pricked as he hears the rustling intensify. He whispers your name. “Don’t panic, but there’s something right there.”

You lean into him more so you can turn your head and whisper back. “Where?”

He takes you by the wrist gently and guides your hand so you’re pointing right at it. It’s warm from the fire and slightly sticky from sweat. He doesn’t feel how his touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Right there. I dunno what it is though.” You continue to watch for movement in the dark, eyes wide as you strain to see any flicker of something only yards away. The howler monkeys are screaming above you and increase your panic, making it more difficult to pinpoint the increased rustling. You utilize the two diary cams you were given, the light allowing you to see further into the trees. You see nothing.

But it is there, stalking with a heavy footfall, making no attempt not to brush against the trees and the leaf debris on the ground. It was circling you.

“Frankie, my heart is beating so fast.”

His large palm cups your shoulder, pulling you against him more and you go willingly, noticing how he shifts his burlap bag to be a thin barrier between your ass and his crotch. “I got my machete right here. It’ll be okay.”

You didn’t sleep much that night.

-Day Two-

“Morning of day 2.” You sigh as you hold the diary cam in front of your face. “I’m really tired. We didn’t get much sleep at all last night. Those monkeys were going insane. I thought they were going to come down and hurt us. And then there’s something out there that’s stalking us. I don’t think it’s the monkeys. Frankie’s over there sharpening his machete.”

As if on cue you hear a loud cuss, and you sit up out of the sand bank and look behind you. “Frankie? You okay?”

“Yea…yea, just nicked myself.” He looks at his finger again and grumbles while the blood blooms from the gash in his fingertip. 

“Well don’t just stare at it, you gotta put pressure on it to stop the bleeding.” He either doesn’t hear you or ignores you, so you heave yourself out of the sand with a sigh and walk up to him, hands on your hips. “Frankie. You need to hold the pressure on it so it will clot and stop bleeding so much.”

He waves you away. “Nah, I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“I could create a bandage for you out of leaves, you should have it protected because if it gets inf—”

“Nah, if I need it, I’ll come to you.” He responds with finality.

Stubborn ass. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Nope, I’m not. I don’t want a bandage. Really. Men don’t need bandages on little cuts like this if they don’t have to. I’ve had hundreds of cuts like this. And we still have a lot of work to do.”

You sigh. “Are men invincible to infection?”

His brow furrows and he digs his heels into his choice. “Yes.”

“Fine…whatever.” You stalk off, muttering under your breath. Dumbass. Sitting there touching all these things and bleeding everywhere. Even though it wasn’t too bad, it was a huge risk to not do something so simple to prevent infection. He was being completely ridiculous.

Frankie glares at you as you walk away. “Don’t need anything for a damn nick. I’ve been in the frickin’ jungle before, I don't need to be taught about injuries out here…” He huffs out a frustrated breath, popping his thumb into his mouth to suck off the blood.

“Putting it in your mouth is even worse.”

He sighs and throws his hands in the air. “I can’t win.”

Frankie heaves himself up and gets to work cutting more bamboo for the completion of the shelter, working through the injury silently just to prove to you you were wrong. You had to admit that he was right. You couldn’t stop working, and he had to push through it. You had to complete your shelter, get more firewood, boil more water, maybe even try and forage for food.

Despite your differences, you work together well as a team in Frankie’s opinion, as long as he’s in charge. When it’s complete, you go your separate ways to find some food. You head deeper into the forest for edible plants, and Frankie perches on the large rocks in the stream, turning over rocks hoping to find some mussels or crabs.

He had no success, but you did. You return with your arms full of dark green leaves, putting them down by your shelter and holding a piece out to Frankie. “It’s river cabbage!” He frowns, but reaches out to pull a small piece off and stuffs it in his mouth. You let him chew, laughing internally about his sour expression. “Well?”

“Taste’s like a leaf.”

“This cabbage has a lot of the proteins and nutrients we will need.”

“Well good for you, I can’t survive 21 days on just that. I need more than that.”

You spend the rest of the day exploring for other resource options, pausing to have a brief argument over whether or not Frankie should drink from a non-stagnant pool fed by a waterfall when you have a perfectly workable and safe way of getting water, but once again, you lose that battle.

-Day Five-

The next few days pass much the same. Foraging. Getting water. Stocking firewood. Frankie set several snares and deadfall traps along game trails and animal holes. You made yourself a little reed skirt to cover your ass and crotch. You argued with Frankie, who was particularly insufferable when his water theory proved right and he didn’t get sick. But you would still huddle close, talk about random things when you couldn’t sleep, picking ticks off each other in the night. And despite how hungry and tired you were becoming, you weren’t even close to wanting to quit.

But the effects of not sleeping, not eating, not having enough water hit you hard by the sixth day, your body was sore and fatigued and the two of you decided to have a more relaxing day.

Frankie hated seeing you uncomfortable. The primal instinct to protect you reared back to life, and he remembered what Will told him before he left.

Take care of her. She’s going to be like your wife. You’re jungle wife. You gotta look out for each other.

“Hey.” You’re lying back in the sand by the river bank twiddling with some cordage. You turn your head towards Frankie as he ambles towards you. “So, I’m gonna go back up to that waterfall area to get more water.”

You nod, shifting to move. “Alright, let’s go.”

“You’re gonna stay here.”

“...What? Why?!”

“Just cause I’m gonna get the water. No-no-no.” He holds his hands out to cut you off as you protest. “You’re tired, you need rest. You’re gonna stay here. I need you to relax.”

“But I can get water. I feel fine.”

“I’m asking you to please stay here.”

“And I’m telling you that I know my own body and I’m fine. We can get twice the water back here if I go.”

He steps back, rubbing his eyes as he heaves another frustrated sigh. “Fine. You wanna disobey, fine. Just do whatever then.”

You jerk back almost as if he had hit you. “Um…excuse me? Disobey? I’m not a dog.”

“I want you to stay.”

You stand up and grab the walking stick you made. “I’m ready.”

“Fine. You wanna be like that? Fine. Hurry up then.”

----

He was unbearable. The most difficult and stubborn individual you had ever been around, and you had to be with him 24 hours a day, for three weeks. You want to scream. Or punch him. You can’t stand when people tell you what to do, order you around like you were fresh into the army. No one does that. Not anymore. You do whatever the fuck you want, when you want to.

The silence is palpable as you collect water from the falls, and Frankie can’t stand it. “...So what are you gonna do next?”

You shrug, not even meeting him in the eye.

“What, are you like not talking to me now?”

“Sounds like you want to tell me what I should be doing.”

“I just want to take care of you, look out for you! What is the problem with that?!”

“I don’t need you to do that. I can do it myself. Don’t presume you can just march up to me and tell me what to do.”

“No, listen, it’s not that, I–. Look, I’m a guy, I see a woman in distress, a woman not feeling good and I wanna do what I can to help her.”

You don’t respond, standing up and gathering your bamboo shafts full of water as you carefully move away from the falls. Frankie turns to the camera-man beside him. “Silent treatment. Look at this. I’m fine, I'm not angry, she’s angry at me!” He stands up quickly and hops from rock to rock recklessly to chase you. “Hey! Please be careful.” 

“You are everything I didn’t want in a partner. You’re such a stubborn, misogynistic ass.” You turn to him with a sneer, balanced perfectly on a rock.

“Wow, okay, all this from me seeing you needed rest and trying to take the burden? I was worried about you! I care, it’s about compassion!?”

“Caring is not bossing someone around.”

Frankie grunts, throwing his hands up at your back. “Let me just shut up then, because anything I say you’ll use against me.” When you make it back to camp he trudges away into the woods in a dramatic huff. You don’t encourage him with a response. You refuse to be an audience for his behavior.

----

He doesn’t even know where he’s going. He’s just walking, pacing back and forth away from the shelter as he calms down and composes his thoughts. 

“I was just trying to be helpful. I thought she was tired…I just wanted to help, I wasn’t trying to order her around.” The camera-man shrugs and Frankie sighs, looking up into the sky. The howler monkeys are quiet today, and he can actually hear the birds singing. The constant lingering feeling of being watched by something has dissipated.

You are everything I didn’t want in a partner.

He winces. “Crap.” That’s not who he is…or that’s not the man he wants to be.

She’s your jungle wife.

He heads back to camp.

You’re sitting under lean-to quietly, constructing a basket to help you gather more items on your treks. You don’t look up when he comes out of the trees. “You’re back.”

“I’m back. How are you feeling?”

You stare at him dead-eyed. “Frankie…I don’t want you to think I’m mad at you, but I don’t like being told what to do. No one does. Not even you.”

He nods, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Okay. Then I’m really sorry.”

“...Okay.” You return your attention to your basket, and Frankie moves off to work on something else. 

You sleep very far apart that night. It sucked. It was kind of chilly.

-Day Seven-

He can’t find anything. It’s pissing him off. No oysters, no crabs, no crawfish…nothing. He was starving. He could feel his muscles protesting every time he moved, felt the fat melting off his tummy and ass, his body beginning to feed itself as it searches for nutrition. He’s barely consuming 50 calories a day, and he’s burning it off faster than he can get it. 

He finds tiny snails and cooks them, feeling a little bad when you realize the only way to cook them is to roast them alive. “Listen…” He tries to soothe. “I know it's harsh, but they’re snails. They don’t have feelings.”

“Well how do you know that? Maybe they do. It’s still a life.” You sigh. “I’m sorry. You’re used to meat and you need to eat, I know that. …Just seeing them squirming and exploding sucks.”

He does his best to be diplomatic. He has to make this work. You need each other. “Okay. I hear you, and I respect your beliefs.”

“...Okay.”

“I mean, I think it’s kinda nuts but…”

You can’t keep the smile growing on your face. “...Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say ‘crazy’. I said ‘a little nuts’. Big difference.”

“I don’t think it’s nuts to stand up for my beliefs, no matter how small you think they are. Even if it’s a snail. You’re taking it’s life.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you. Warm brown eyes clear and give you absolute attention for what feels like the first time this entire challenge. He’s trying to reach out, trying to understand you. You look away, resting your head on your arms. 

He stands up and stretches, reaching down to grab his ‘plate’. “I’m going to go get some more, clean this up.” He carefully picks his way back to the rock where he’d found the snails in the first place. He looks up at the camera-man. “I feel bad…so, I’m gonna let these ones go. I can come back for them if I need them.” He nods to himself, carefully plucking the remaining tiny snails from his bamboo plate and tucking them back into the water with care.

He’d never really thought about it before. He’d never eat a dog, or a cat, or some exotic and beautiful endangered animal, but he had never thought twice about cattle when he ordered a steak, cooked a hamburger. He wonders if maybe the military desensitized him to the value of life more than he thought, and he vows from now on that when he eats a living creature, he’d respect it as a life and be thankful. He trots back to you to tell you.

“Hey! So, um, I put the rest of them back.”

Your head whips up and you stare at him, your lips parting as you search the truth in his face. His heart rate speeds up and makes him dizzy from the lack of food, and he realizes it’s because he’s anxious to see how you feel. He cares about your opinion of him, like actually cares.

You blink rapidly. “You— you did?”

His large hand stretches up to cup the back of his neck, fingers trailing through the dirty curls at the nape of his neck. You’d noticed it’s something he does when he’s agitated or nervous. Or bashful. “Yea. I didn’t need them right now. They’re still there if I need them later. Not goin’ anywhere.” 

The brightest smile blooms across your face and he almost missteps in the sand at how brilliant it is and how it makes his chest pinch ever so slightly. You cup your hand around his calf and slide your palm up and down the back of it briefly before taking him by the hand and tugging him to sit. He doesn’t know why but he has trouble meeting your eyes.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“No problem. No big deal.” He grunts.

You hand him some edible berries. “Want some of this?”

He nods, looking down as your small fingers deposit the berries into his rough calloused palm, amazed at how your skin is so luminescent even caked and streaked in mud.

----

It was really chilly that night. No wind, but it just settled on you, and 70 degrees feels much different when you have no clothes on. You’re tucked around the fire and Frankie is a few feet away on his back, staring out at the stars and fingering the burlap of the bag resting over his crotch. He thinks about how much harder this was then he thought it would be, and that maybe he should have watched more episodes to prepare. He thinks about how lately when he stands up he gets king of dizzy. He has to stop being so stubborn and eat the food that you’re providing. He needs to sit down and make heavier duty traps tomorrow. Maybe you will make a fish basket even though you don’t eat meat. 

His mind drifts to you, wondering what your family is like, if your friends are as feisty as you, what else you like to do for fun. If you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. If you’d keep in contact after all of this.

“Frankie?”

“Hmmm?”

“It’s cold. Can you come closer?”

He shuffles closer, the side of his body just an inch from your backside. You look over your shoulder. “No, we need to cuddle. It’s for my benefit as well as yours.”

“Oh, okay, yea that’s a good idea.” He shifts, rolling to his side while making sure the burlap bag is still covering him, scooting up against you until your skin is flush with his, your back sinking into the warmth of his chest and your ass in the cup of his hips. “Good?”

You grunt, reaching back to grab his hand to pull it forward, wrapping his arm around you and against your stomach. His leg goes with it, a calf sliding between yours and he instantly feels the increase in warmth from that simple switch in position.

He hums deeply against you, and you feel it rumbling against your back. It feels…good. Comforting and warm. He’s so fucking warm, burning almost as warm as the fire in front of you. You close your eyes, taking in the press of his chest against your back as he breathes, the tang of his sweat that smells more good then bad.

The two of you settle, and the camera-men pack it up and head back to their own area for the night, leaving you alone to the night as usual with only your diary cams. It’s relatively quiet, the howler monkeys giving it up for the night after screaming non stop for an entire week, resigning themselves to the fact that you will be here a while. Instead, you can hear the chirps of insects, the creak of the trees, the crackle of the fire. The soft sound of Frankie humming against you.

“Your hair still smells good.” He mumbles after a while.

“It does? What does it smell like?”

You feel a tickling, the tip of his nose pushing against the crown of your head and swirling in a little circle as he inhales. “MMmmm like…coconuts. And cookies. And sweat.”

“Ew.” You laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“S’not bad. It’s just…you.”

“Oh.” 

You let the silence fall once more, then suddenly tilt your face back to him again. 

“You smell like shit.”

He bursts out laughing behind you, you can feel the release of air against your shoulder and you join him, his chest quivering as he gains his composure.

----

You feel so fucking good in his arms, the tremble of your frame as you giggle against him and it’s like the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He holds you against him a little tighter and you release a small sigh as you finally drift off to sleep. 

You’ve been finding it harder than him to sleep out here, and he’s relieved as he feels you become limp in his arms, happy you might finally get some good sleep. You’re so small and he’s so much older than you, he realizes he feels protective of you, even though you’ve proven you can take care of yourself. It’s different when you’re curled up, against him like a little cat. You fit so perfectly against his own body.

You whimper and squirm in your sleep, your ass wriggling and you slightly push back against him, the pressure against his dick making him bite back a soft moan. Fuck. Fuck! NO! No no no, no boners, no. Chairs. My grandma. Pope’s hairy ass. 

He’s suddenly aware that he’s gone this entire time not even thinking about…that. Those urges just don’t feel so important when you’re tired and hungry and exposed to the wilderness. It reminds him that he had found you attractive when he first looked at you. The round curves of your hips and the perkiness of your tits, your sparkling eyes and pretty hair.

But right now, you finally have a calm night. The fire is high and there’s plenty of wood to burn, you’d eaten a somewhat decent meal of river cabbage and a rare find of guanabana. Whatever animal had been stalking you off and on since the first day was quiet, and the bugs weren’t too annoying. His mind could wander to other things, like how you looked using his machete to hack down leaves to re-pad your bed, the way your back arches when you stretch in the morning, tits pointing to the sky. Or the swell of your ass when you were lying on your stomach in the sand, peeling apart a fruit. That one time he caught you doing some light yoga moves to boost your fatigue, your ass perked up as you bent down to touch your toes. How he’d wanted the little grass skirt you’d made to shift just so slightly so maybe he could see more of you.

Fuck.

He was getting fucking hard, and he shifts his hips back a little so he doesn’t poke you in the ass but you shift with him, seeking the warmth from his body. Your ass bumps against him again and he stifles a moan as his hips involuntarily buck into you with a slight roll. His hand grips you tighter against the stomach, finger pads pressing into the shrinking swell of your tummy skin as he loses himself in it, grinding against you again with another soft moan. 

It’s too much, his brain is not working right and he’s hungry and tired and thirsty, and you were so warm, and holy fuck he was about to rip that burlap bag off of himself and push his cock deep inside you, fucking you on the ground as you cried out in his arms. And then it comes back to him so suddenly, his reality slamming back into the front of his mind he’s surprised he doesn’t actually get whiplash. 

You barely knew each other. You weren’t his girlfriend. And you were asleep. He releases you with a curse and pulls away from you, scooting away across the ground as he sits up. You stir, jostled by his arm leaving your waist. 

“Frankie?”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Just…gotta take a piss. I’ll be right back.”

“Mmmkay.”

He grabs the diary cam, opening it so it lights his way as he tiptoes out and into the dark. He shouldn’t go too far, but he doesn’t want you or the crew to hear him. He has to take care of it, it’s only natural what happened but he can’t let it interfere with the challenge. It probably would have happened with any partner.

He finds a thick tree, pressing his back against the bark to support him as he grabs himself, careful not to go beyond the foreskin. His hands are filthy and a bacterial infection would suck. He squeezes his shaft, starting slowly but quickening his strokes faster than he normally would. 

Just take care of it, and then get your ass back there and warm her up. He thinks about how your ass felt against him, he could have shifted forward and gently pushed that grass skirt aside to see if you were wet and waiting for him between your thighs. He thinks about how small you are compared to him, how many fingers you could take inside you, how much of a struggle it would be to stuff his cock as deep as he can go. He’s so big compared to you, he might be able to just lift you up and down his cock himself.

He’s panting hard and it’s making him light-headed but he’s almost there, just needs one more push. He thinks about if this were caveman times and how he would just march over there and pull you to him and fuck you into the goddamn dirt, loud enough the entire fucking jungle would know you were his and—

“FUcccckk.” He cums a lot, spurts of it shooting out in the dark onto the forest floor while he tries to keep his moans down. He bites his lip and tilts his head back, the crown of his head bumping the bark of the tree as he empties himself completely until the only sounds are his recovering breaths, the trickling of the stream, the rustling of leaves, and the low growl of–

“What the fuck! Shit!” He swivels around to the other side of the tree but the thing just follows him, slowly circling. He thinks he can almost see its flashing eyes in the dark. He rips his bag open to grab his machete, his breath leaving him when he realizes that he fucking left it back at camp.

He has to run. It’s too close, and it’s not here for anything else. He turns to haul ass back to camp in the hope it would steer clear of the fire but he almost crashes into you arriving with the machete in one hand and a makeshift torch in the other. 

“No no! Come on. It’s a giant fucking cat, we gotta go to the fire!”

But you ignore him, yelling at the top of your lungs before raising both arms in the air with your makeshift weapons, stomping forward at the jaguar he knows is back there.

“FUCK OFFFF!” You roar, and Frankie’s senses come back to him and he kneels, grabbing anything he can get in his hands and throwing them as hard as he can into the area he thinks the cat is in. You hear a low chuff and the sounds of leaves rustling again, but then….quiet. You press your back to Frankie’s so all sides are covered, but after several minutes you know it’s gone, you can just feel it is. That oppressive feeling of being watched, leered at, has lifted. You turn to Frankie and thrust his machete into his hand, grabbing him by the wrist to run back to camp.

When you get there you throw the torch away and all but dive bomb into the lean to. Frankie collects you around the waist and pulls you against him. You’re breathing hard, your eyes wild and darting around and he can tell you’re starting to hyperventilate.

He cups the back of your head, dragging you the rest of the way onto his lap where you collapse onto his shoulder. He can feel the warm puffs of your adrenaline fueled breath and he slowly starts rubbing your back up and down, cooing in your ear as he watches the entrance of the small shelter for further danger. 

“Holy shit.” You whisper after a few minutes.

“You okay?”

“Yes, yea. Just…I can’t believe I did that. You were gone so long and I got worried.”

He laughs, but it sounds more like a choked sob. “God, fuck, I’m so mad you did that but I’m so thankful you did that.”

“Of course I did. You’re my partner.”

“Yea.”

Time slows, the sounds of the jungle fuzzes out and blends together as you hold each other and calm down, but he finds that when you start to pull away from him, he doesn’t want to let go.

But he does. You clamber off him awkwardly and the silence between you two is deafening. It feels like it takes forever for you to meet his eyes, and his heart drops into his stomach when he considers the fact that you’d probably seen…that. 

But you don’t say anything, so neither does he.

-Day Nine-

Frankie settles down in the sand to construct some bird traps, and you sit beside him, acquiescing to his request to make a fish basket. You’re quiet, you don’t talk much but something has shifted, and Frankie feels much more comfortable with you. He hopes you feel the same. 

He goes on his own to set the traps and lay the fish basket higher up in the stream of the river where it’s wider. When he returns, he doesn’t see you, and he panics for a second before a splashing sound draws his attention. He looks to the stream and sees you coming out of a deeper pool, twisting your hair to get residual water out.

You’re wading out in the early evening rays of the sun looking like some kind of wilderness goddess and as hard as he tries, he can’t look away from you. Rivulets of water run between your breasts and down to your belly button, the curve of your waist sloping into the rounds of your hips as they emerge from the water. You look like a fucking Bond girl.

And you don’t have the grass skirt on. His brain completely shuts down, paralyzing his body, limbs rooted to the ground as the desire for you jams him up from making any quick decision, and before he knows it, you see him staring at you and head towards him with a sweet smile.

“Hey! How’d it go?”

“Good.” He replies much too quickly, but you just nod and head back towards the shelter.

----

It’s late. He’s not sure what time but he knows he’s up and you’re up too, because you keep poking at the fire. He cups your bicep with his warm palm to get your attention, and you tilt your head to look back at him.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable today.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

“Earlier, I...was staring at you. You caught me.”

You laugh, and it sounds stupid but Frankie actually thinks he feels butterflies in his chest. “Don’t worry about it. We’re naked and sometimes biology just…has to do its thing. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“No.” He wonders if you’re insinuating you saw him, but you say nothing more as you turn back to the fire, and he continues to worry, feeling like he needs to be more convincing how not attracted to you he is. He blurts it out before his mind has a chance to rephrase it. “You must be half my age.”

“They probably do that on purpose, like putting oil and vinegar together. How…old are you? I never asked.”

“46.”

“That’s not that old. There’s been older on here.”

“And you?”

“25.”

Shit. She’s fucking young, and I…

“Hey Frankie?”

“Yea?”

“About the other day…I don’t do well with people telling me what to do.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—“

“No, I mean, there’s a reason. I dated a guy a while ago.” You release a breath, Frankie can feel your back heaving against his skin. “He was really controlling. I couldn’t go anywhere without telling him and he had to direct everything I did. It cut me off from friends, family. It took forever to get away from him. He…scared me. So, I’m extra sensitive. It brings me back to that place and I don’t like it.”

Frankie doesn’t know what to say, so instead he cups your bicep and squeezes, feeling the tension in your frame against him. “I’m sorry. I get it. Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me that.”

You say nothing, closing your eyes to try to finally fall asleep. 

“We aren’t all like that, you know.”

“If you say so…” Your response is cute and slurred, and it feels good that he can finally, finally provide you with something, even if it’s not what he expected it would be. Trust. Comfort. Friendship.

-Day Twelve-

The snares are catching nothing. Neither are the traps. Frankie can feel his body breaking down, his muscles are weak and he’s never been so tired in his life. The cabbage and berries keep him from starving but his body is used to meat and needs that protein to function. 

He finds himself mis-stepping more, his brain’s synapses not firing fast enough causing him to be less coordinated. And so, when he was shaving bamboo for new water containers, his machete slipped and sliced his finger open. Again.

“Ah! Shhhhhhhiizzzzz..!” He growls, trying not to cuss on camera.

“Frankie? You okay?”

“Yea! Ummm no, I cut myself again!”

“I’m coming!”

You emerge from the forest where you were foraging for plants, floating towards him like an angel. You stand next to him and put your hands on your hips, ready for another fight. “That one’s kinda bad.”

His entire fingertip is sliced deep, he’s putting pressure on it like you’d told him to last time, but you can see some blood seeping out between his fingers. “Just hold it until it slows down, I’ll be right back.” He nods and you march back into the forest, scanning the brush for what you need. You grab a large palm frond with rows of thin, long leaves and a big banana leaf before returning, grabbing some of your freshly made cordage and a bamboo cask of fresh water. You sit down in front of him, cupping his giant hands in yours. You can barely get yours around them. “How’s it going? Do you think we should call a medic?”

He peeks under a finger. “No. I think it’s slowed down.”

“Good, lemme see. Hopefully you won’t need a stitch.”

He grunts but fights against his stubbornness, letting you open his fist and inspect the slash. He watches silently as you pour some water over his finger to clean it, then grab the banana leaf and fold it in half several times until it makes a small little pad. You press it to his cut, then begin wrapping one of the long and thin leaf around the finger to secure that in place. Finally, you pull a small vine out of one of your cords and wrap it around his finger too, tying it neatly atop his fingernail to seal the whole thing together. 

“Hmmm. There. That should be good, but try not to get it dirty. I don’t want it to get infected. I’ll recheck it tomorrow and do another clean.” When you look up he’s looking at you, eyes wide and soft. His brow is slightly furrowed and he reminds you of a puppy, big brown eyes holding an emotion you can’t place. You feel your cheeks burn, and you pat the side of his hand and release them. 

He puts his hand on your knee. You feel the hairs rising up on your legs and arms, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Thanks.”

You can’t meet his eyes. “No problem.” You stand abruptly, rushing off like an idiot towards the stream, choosing a rock baking in the sun that’s hopefully out of his eyeline. 

What the fuck is going on? 

By now you know what it feels like when you stand up too fast, when you don’t find food, when you overdo it in the sun. This isn’t that.

This…was completely unexpected. You didn’t come out here for this, but you can’t deny your feelings. You liked him. You actually liked this ridiculous, stubborn, arrogant mess of a man you were paired with that was so opposite to you in every single way. He was old. He ate meat, he’s stubborn and borderline unbearable to be around, he was kind of misogynistic, he was…he was changing. 

You sit up and look back over at him, he’s looking at the finger you bandaged, fingering it carefully like he’s caressing the spot your hand was. Your breath is quickening and it’s making you lightheaded from little food, so you lay back onto the rock surface to calm the dizziness.

You couldn’t deny you’d thought him handsome when you first saw him. He was broad, with wide rounded shoulders, a strong neck, a sharp jaw and the most unique nose you’d ever seen. It all somehow suited him perfectly. His skin was warm and golden and his eyes were like milk chocolate with the softest lashes. A full head of curly hair despite his age, the only show of that in the sporadic gray hairs throughout his mop and the short ones along his temple.

And over time, the light scruff had grown along his jaw, streaked with gray with patches missing in it that stayed there even as the rest of the hair kept growing around it. It was cute and endearing, and you’d hated it when you realized that’s what you thought about it. 

His arms were thick and strong, a broad sternum tapering in and then sloping back out into a little soft tummy that had gone down throughout your challenge. You liked it better when it was bigger. You liked the light trail of hair that gathered around his belly button, leading to the area below he always tried to keep covered with his bag. The area hiding the absolute giant dick he had. Now that you think about it, it was nice. You want to see it again. 

You think of how strong he felt when he’d hugged you after making the fire, when he—

Good girl.

Shit. 

When you turn to look at him again, he’s up and heading to you, so you try to calm yourself down and ignore the ache growing low in your belly, looking away from him because now you know it would be a completely different way.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m goin’ to check the traps, maybe wander around a bit. Okay? You good?”

You clear your throat and nod, turning your head to the side acting like you’re scratching your ear. “I’m good. Thanks for letting me know. I might look for firewood but I won’t go far.”

He nods and turns away, and god dammit, you can’t help but look at his cute little ass. 

----

So, it wasn’t a one time deal. Frankie was fucked. He liked you a lot. You were so different than him, so gentle and kind but fierce also, and he thinks back at all the times you yelled at him or stood up to him with heat burning his cheeks. You saw value in everything, you were persistent and understanding, and he wishes he’d behaved better earlier in the challenge,  because he’d been an absolute dick. He was regretting it.

He’s so lost in his mind he almost doesn’t even see it, only alerted by the flash of reddish-brown skin and the soft crunching as the snake slides through leaf debris, squeezing itself between a large rock and the base of a tree.

His heart drops in his chest and he wrestles with himself whether to run or sneak, ultimately choosing the former as he darts forward with his machete raised, catching the snake's tail just as it’s about to disappear into the hideaway, yanking it out with a wide sweep of his arm and flinging it to the ground a few yards away.

The thing is pissed, and he pauses momentarily when he realizes it’s a fucking pit viper. Venomous. It coils its body tightly behind its head, raising up with a hiss in warning. It’s a huge risk, but he’s too hungry to let it go. He grabs a stick off the ground and moves quickly, pressing the split blunt end of the stick where the back of the jaw meets the ground, pushing down to pin the animal in place. The snake only gets angrier, its back end flailing around as it tries to free itself and turn to bite him. But it's too late, the machete is swung once, twice, and it's over, and Frankie plops down on his ass to the ground to catch his breath.

When the end of the animal stops moving, he moves toward it, knocking the still toxic head away as he collects the body. He leans back on his heels and closes his eyes, lifting his head to the canopy. “Thank you…” He whispers to the jungle. “Thank you so much.” He looks down once more at the snake in his hands, speaking to it as if it could hear him. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry but I’m hungry. Thank you.” 

He looks like sunshine when he returns to camp with the snake in his hands, but when he sees you he halts, holding it behind his back like a child caught in the cookie jar.

You huff out a laugh. “Frankie, it’s…okay. I know you have to eat, you don’t have to hide it. I’m glad you got something.”

He looks uncertain but comes towards you, sitting a little behind you so he can process the animal without you having to see it. “This is a good find. Lots of protein for me. Almost didn’t even see it. I…feel bad.”

You turn, your mouth twitching at the sight of the snake’s skin being peeled from its body. “Wait. Frankie…what is that?”

“A snake.”

“No I mean…is that a viper?”

“Yea! It was crazy! He was tryin’ to get away and I yanked him right out of the rock.”

You hold your palms up. “Are you telling me that you chased an extremely venomous snake, alone, and grabbed it with your bare hands? Are you insane?! That snake can kill you with one bite!”

He frowns. “I had a stick and the machete. And I’m fine!”

“That was a huge risk. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“Yea I know, I’m sorry…but I got it, and I tried to respect it. I don’t know how to do it so I just thanked it after. That probably sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. But don’t do something that stupid again.” You stand up and head into the shelter to rest so you don’t have to see him eat.

-Day Fourteen-

The energy from that one snake felt like Frankie was suddenly on steroids, after having so little for so long, but as the days passed he was heading back to the same place, hungry and with no hint of food. He needed to find something today. There were ominous clouds darkening the sky, and if it rained bad enough, they might be confined to the shelter. He was so thankful for you, you’d spent the day gathering as much as possible before racing back to camp, strengthening the roof with last minute additions before the rain started falling.

And falling.

It was a complete downpour, and it lasted for hours. You and Frankie were huddled next to each other inside the shelter, trying desperately to keep the fire going, but the makeshift cover you’d made for it made no difference. You almost cried when the fire went out, and there was nothing else you could do but suffer through it as the temperature went down drastically. It rained the entire next day and into the night, the temperature had dropped to only 50 degrees and you finally broke, the constant strength Frankie had seen in you shattering to pieces.

“Fr–Frankie I’m still cold, I’m so fucking cold I can’t stop shivering.” 

You really can’t, and it’s starting to scare him with how violently you’re shaking as he spoons you from behind as close as he can. Your burlap bags were wrapped around your feet to keep from freezing and you were completely bare against each other, but the increase in warmth was substantial enough for neither of you to give a damn. “Hey. Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here, turn around.” He pauses, hoping he didn’t overstep, but if you were that cold, him holding you this way might help. You do hesitate, but quickly turn in his arms, whimpering as a cold stick pokes into your back.

He settles you against him, your face tucked into his neck and your hands clasped against his chest, both of his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in closer, trying to give you as much of his body heat as he can. 

He can only tell you’re crying when he feels the hot wetness against his shoulder, and he cups the back of your head with his large palm. “Oh…no, no please don’t cry. Please don’t cry, shhhhhhh.” He coos into your hair, sliding his hands and arms up and down your body for friction, trying to warm you up, and neither of you give a shit that his hands are all up and down your thighs and ass, your back, and the sides of your breasts. 

“Frankie I can’t. I can’t do this.”

He pulls you in harder, as if he could absorb you into his warmth. “No please, you can. I know you can.”

“I can’t!” You sob, and the sound physically hurts him so much he gets up and rolls you onto your back, immediately covering the entirety of your body with his large frame, his forearms braced on the ground and curling around your shoulders. He tucks his face into your neck, nose bumping against the dirty skin, and you whimper when you feel the warm puffs of breath against you. 

Every part of you is touching every part of him, but it doesn’t even matter. Nothing matters other than the fact that this man is giving you his entire body to keep you warm, even though his back is completely exposed to the chill of the air. “Frankie, what about you?”

“I’m okay. Just want you to be okay. You can do this okay? I got you, I need you here with me, okay?”

You wrap your arms around his back, opening your thighs just a little so he can nestle slightly between them, taking advantage of that extra warmth. You suddenly feel so exhausted, like you don’t even feel the cold anymore but just need to sleep. Sleep and it will go away. Maybe when you wake up the rain will be over.

He only realizes it when your breathing slows and your hands stop rubbing against his back. He calls your name, but you don’t answer. “Hey! Hey, no, you can’t go to sleep, you gotta stay up.” He wriggles from side to side, trying to jostle you awake and he starts panicking when you don’t. “Hey, come on, baby, please. Gotta stay up. Fuck!” 

He hates it but he unloops his arm from under you to give you several slaps on the cheek. Your eyes burst open and immediately seek his.

“Fuck…shit…you scared me…” His head was still in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the fear in his voice. “You can’t go to sleep. You could go into hypothermia and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Okay? Gotta stay up. Stay up with me.” He pulls his head out of your neck and cups your cold cheeks with his hands. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

-Day Fifteen-

The rain stopped early in the morning, and the two of you spent the entire next day catching up on the sleep you couldn’t risk during the night. When you woke, you were nestled into his chest, your nose pressing into his skin. 

It was warm out.

You sigh, wondering whether you should try to wriggle out or just wake Frankie up, but you find that you aren't eager to leave his arms. One of his arms is draped against your waist, and the other is the pillow your head rests on. 

He had willingly sacrificed his own body heat in order to keep you warm, whispering in your ear all night to keep you awake. He told you about his stupid friends, things he had to do in the military that still haunted him to this day, his favorite movies. Anything to keep you up and engaged. You’d never seen anyone on the show do that before. 

You don’t want to leave his arms. You don’t want to keep ignoring how you feel, no matter how crazy it is. You rest your head back against his broad chest, your thumb softly stroking the skin of his hip that your hand rested on.

He hums, subconsciously pulling you by the waist closer into him, your breath catching when you feel the stiff length of his cock pressing into your abdomen. You freeze, not knowing what to do. You’re not sure if you want him to stop or keep going as he chases the feeling, rolling his hips up against you as he hardens further. 

He doesn’t know he’s doing it, doesn’t know it’s you and that’s what makes you slap him on the chest lightly and call his name until he wakes up blearily, a stupid lazy smile on his face.

“Hey.”

“Hi, um. Can you?” You point down and he all but throws himself off you, ripping the burlap bag from his feet and covering up his erection from you. 

“Oh shit! Fuck, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, fuck, I didn’t think…it would happen out here.” You continue staring at him, your lips in a little ‘O’ shape as you stare at him from beneath your eyelashes. He grimaces, then hides his face in his hands. “I’m so fucking sorry. It’s a morning thing, it’s not–I don’t—”

“It’s fine.” You murmur quickly, shifting to your knees to exit the shelter. “I know it wasn’t on purpose. Thanks for keeping me so warm last night.”

“...Yea, no problem.”

When you exit the tent he slaps himself in the forehead. He hopes he didn’t ruin it.

----

It doesn’t seem like anything has changed. You’d meant what you said when you told him some things were just biology. But after the two of you work on getting a fire re-started, ultimately relying on cutting pieces of your own hair to spark it up against the wet kindling, you again find yourself in an intimate position.

The mosquitos were horrific today, all the rain agitating them and giving them hope for places to lay their eggs. It was awful, the worst it had been since you came. Frankie suggested you rub ash on each other, telling you sometimes it helped ward off bugs. You laugh to yourself as you turn your back to him, asking him to put it on for you. You can almost hear him swallow, his hands gathering up some ash and rubbing it on your shoulders and back. You don’t stop him as he goes lower, even as he eyes your reaction when he goes and puts it on your thighs, curving his hands back up to quickly smear some over your butt cheeks.

“Just being thorough.” He says when you jokingly glare at him.

The rest of the day is spent looking for more food. You hadn’t eaten anything during the storm and you desperately needed the nutrients. Frankie was looking especially thin, and you sometimes catch him wobbling when he stands up. 

You cuddle again that night, just as close together even though it wasn’t as cold, the comfort of being against the other person was something the two of you had clearly gotten used to.

-Day Sixteen-

“Frankie!”

“Yea!”

You can’t believe you actually have the energy to run, but you’re too excited. “Look what I found!” You thrust your arm in the air, holding the yucca root high so he can see it.

“What is that? I can’t see that far!”

You laugh as you come before him, panting harshly. “I found yucca!”

“You did?!”

“YES.”

“We have soap?”

“We have soap!” You cheer, your excitement bubbling over as you hope up and down in the sand. “And carbs! We can also boil some of this. Maybe we can fill up enough for extraction with this.”

The two of you get to work taking turns peeling the yucca with Frankie’s machete. Your muscles were unsteady as it began to feast upon itself in starvation, and you became tired quickly, making you clumsier with the large knife. It helps to switch back and forth every few minutes. Finally, you get it as peeled as you can. Frankie chops some up and puts it in a few bamboo shoots, lying them gently against the hot coals of the fire to boil while you ground up the rest to try to make soap.

After doing the best you could, Frankie pulls you up by your hand and the two of you giddily frolic into the water, splashing your way to a knee deep area. “Here. Turn around. Maybe we can finally get this nice and clean.” You ruffle his filthy, matted hair.

“Are you saying I smell?”

“Yes. Sit down and tilt your head back.”

He laughs and does what you ask, and you use one of your bamboo cups to scoop up some water and wet his hair, kneeling behind him as you start rubbing the ground yucca between your hands vigorously.

“Is it working?” 

“I think so. Keep your head straight. Obey.” You lightly smack him on the arm and he chuckles, recalling your worst spat a few days ago. You finally just slop the yucca onto his head and cup water on it, intermittently massaging your fingers into his scalp. It does kind of foam, and you take your time working it in, passing over every curl.

Frankie sighs, a low moan escaping his lips as you card your fingers through his hair trying to get all the tangles out. You feel the burn in your belly at the sound, but you focus on your task until you are satisfied, thoroughly rinsing his hair afterwards.

Since you’re already there, you lather up his neck and ears to his shoulders and down his back, scraping two weeks worth of mud and dirt off of his body, leaving the skin below pink from the friction. He turns and looks at you as you work, his eyes hooded and soft. 

“You don’t have to do that.” But he sighs and slightly preens under your attention.

“I know. But I am. And I’m going to ask you to do the same.” You continue working until his back is as clean as you can get, making sure his ears and neck are rinsed completely.

“Okay, your turn. C’mere.” 

You splash around him excitedly, moving to sit in front of him but he opens his thighs and pulls you backwards by the waist so you’re settled in between them, but without touching him at all. 

It feels like time has stopped while you wait for the first touch, the anticipation building and cresting until you almost beg him to start, and that’s the exact moment you feel the water wetting your hair, his hands threading in towards your scalp as much as it can. His fingers are thick and he presses them into your skin, rubbing and massaging as he works that yucca from root to tip. 

You can’t hear how you’re moaning and whimpering because it just feels that good, can’t feel the way your sounds are driving him crazy and he’s struggling not to harden on the water against your back, struggling to not draw the attention of the camera-man. 

He feels your hands dart out and grab each of his thighs and he stifles back a grunt, focusing on rinsing your hair and then working your neck, your shoulders and back just like you did for him, spending extra time tending to the knots and kinks he finds in the muscles. 

You get lost in it, not realizing your slumping back into him bit by bit until he leans forward and husks in your ear. “Need to rinse. Lean forward.”

“Oh…sorry.” You lean forward again, yanking your hands off his legs. You didn’t even realize you’d put them there.

“It’s okay.”  It's silent as he pours the water over your back, the remaining foamy dirt dripping off into the water. It should feel awkward to just be sitting, taking an intimate bath right in front of a production crew, but you’ve grown used to it by now. “All done.” You look back at him and thank him, but you don’t move to leave. He takes the opportunity to lean forward, resting his sharp chin on your shoulder. “Can I…can I hold you?”

There isn’t even a second before you respond. “Yes.”

His arms suddenly surround you, crossing over your arms to rest on your clavicle and the tops of your breasts as he leans you back against him. He had moved to lean against a rock while he washed your hair, and so you felt no guilt at fully melting back into him, scooting your butt back so you’re more comfortable. You can feel him, hard against the small of your back. 

You can feel the camera-men focusing on this moment and dread for when they ask about it in your daily one-on-one interview later, but you try to ignore it and feel this moment. Because in 4 days, it will be over, and you will both go home to separate places. You feel him press his soft cheek against your wet hair, inhaling and exhaling steadily at a soothing pace. “Frankie?” You whisper, low enough you hope the cameras won’t pick it up. He catches your cue, responding just as soft, not moving an inch.

“Hm.”

“What…what is this?”

“I don’t know.” He moves to release you but you minutely shake your head, so he re-wraps his arms around you lower than before so they are resting on the tops of your breasts. “Just feels good.”

You nod, your head tilting back to bump against him as you close your eyes and enjoy the late afternoon sun and the pleasant cool of the stream. Eventually your turn, rolling over so you’re resting on your hip, your legs over his thigh and your back and face curled against his chest. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, his arms winding around your waist. One hand slips below the water to rest on your other hip, thumb barely caressing the skin there. 

It’s the moment you think of the most.

-Day Seventeen-

“I don’t think this extraction is going to be achievable in only one day.” Frankie observes. His voice sounds weird. Disjointed. Shaky. You look down at the map lying on the ground between you. “Look. We’re gonna have to hike two miles all the way up here to this part of the river, then follow the river seven miles up til it meets the ocean, and a boat will meet us there.”

You point to a little raft icon. “They want us to build a raft then. I don’t think we will be able to carry a raft from here to there.”

“No. We’ll have to build it there. But we can do some of it tomorrow. Make that our day’s goal.”

You turn to poke at the fire, stirring it back to life from its early morning hibernation. It takes a bit for Frankie to get up, yesterday you pulled him up by your hands out of the stream and he’d played it off like it wasn’t a big deal. You remember how much it pissed you off when he questioned your body, so you said nothing. He knows his own body just as you knew yours.

You should have listened to your instincts. A confused “What the fuck?” is all you hear, and as you whip around you see Frankie’s eyes roll back into his head as he faints straight as a board backwards onto the ground, thumping his head, breath expelling from his lungs from the impact.

“Frankie!” You scramble to him, kneeling beside him as you cup his face. His eyes are closed and his chapped lips are slightly parted. He’s still breathing. “Hey…” You stroke his cheeks, your fingers scratching against the three week old beard he’s grown. “Frankie.” You pull his head into your lap, gently smacking his cheek. “Hey. Hey, come on. Come back to me. Please! Go get the medic!” You order the camera-man, and he gets up quickly to head towards the producer tent.

You exhale sharply, wiping your fingers on your thighs before gently pulling on his eyelid to open an eye. It snaps shut again and he groans, finally coming back to himself, his body awkwardly flailing a bit like he forgot how it works. When he opens his eyes again, you’re looking over him, the sun framing you like a halo. 

“Hi.”

He smiles weakly. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“I think so. I just stood up and whited out, I dunno. Now I’m laying here.” 

“You fell.” 

The medics arrive and crowd around Frankie, you don’t want to intrude so you begin to back away, but he grabs your hand and holds it to his chest while they check on him. He starts feeling better within a few minutes, bouncing right back to his stubborn self as he shoos the medics away with assurances he’s fine. You walk with them back out of the camp.

“He has low blood pressure, but is okay. If it gets worse, we need to take him, okay?” You nod, turning to return to Frankie who is now sitting up. You smack him on his bent knee.

“You scared me, you asshole.”

“Sorry.”

You reach your hand out to him and he takes it, his other hand grabbing your other hand as you drag his massive body up. He stands still for a moment, eyes closed as he gains his bearings. “So fucking dizzy.”

“You okay?”

He releases your wrists and pats your arm. “Yea I’m good.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

-Day Eighteen-

He doesn’t look good. His skin is kind of yellowish and his cheeks look gaunt, he has purple bags under his eyes, and he’s blinking often, like his vision isn’t clear. He’s down, not as chatty as he usually is with you, and even though you’ve only spent two and a half weeks in his company, you can see he’s not himself. You’re also sore and fatigued, your feet are cut up and you’re constantly out of breath, but otherwise you feel okay. The almonds and cabbage and fruits you have been foraging for have sustained you pretty well, and you don’t feel like you’ve betrayed your beliefs.

Last night was scary. It was the first time you’d heard him seriously consider quitting. You’d held him close as he curled in on his stomach. “I can’t do it…”

“You can, I know you can. You told me the same thing, you got me through it, you can get you through it.” You don’t want him to quit, you can’t let him quit, not when he’s so close. You need to do it together. But you know he doesn’t have the strength to complete the challenge if you don’t do something. 

----

The next morning you try to check his traps but can’t find half of them, and end up turning back and perching yourself on one of the rocks in the stream. You trail your eyes up the tiny current, the little rocks sitting in the narrow passageways between large ones. There’s one that looks a little different, and you lean forward, peering closer at it.

It’s a frog. A big frog.

It’s right there, resting on top of another tiny rock with its eyes closed, completely unaware of your presence. You turn to the camera-man. “I…I don’t know what to do.” You bite your lip, looking back over to where Frankie is still lying on his back in front of the shelter. His sternum is jutting out in a haunting way, the stomach flesh below it concaving in. His hip bones are sticking out. 

You’ve never killed an animal in your entire life.

You grab the frog.

----

“Frankie!”

He hears you, but barely has the energy to get up, so he tilts his head in your direction. “Yea?” You stride up to him, reaching into your bag for the frog. He perks up, the excitement giving him the boost to sit up fully. “What’d you get?” 

You pull out the frog and he uses everything in him to push himself up out of the sand. You press the animal into his palms. “Here. I brought this back for you.” He jerks his eyes up to meet yours, they dart back and forth between them like he thinks you might be joking. His mouth parts and he blinks rapidly, looking back down at the animal before he starts to tear up. “This…is a lot of protein for me.”

“Yea.”

“Thank you so much, this is…this is so amazing! I really appreciate this.”

You nod once, turning and walking away towards the pool. Frankie pads over to the fire and eases himself down, grabbing a piece of bamboo to lay the frog on to process. He pauses, looking up to see where you went, his chest pinching when he sees you resting in the water, your head buried in your arms on a rock.

“I can’t believe she did that.” He says to the camera-man. “She picked that up and knew she was the difference between death and life and she chose to give it to me. I know that was hard for her.” He looks up again, watching you sit with your decision in the stream. This was…he couldn’t even say it. “I’m…feeling really emotional right now. I’m never gonna forget this.”

When the animal is cooked he eats every single piece, not willing to waste any of that protein. It was the best tasting thing he’d ever eaten in his life, and it tasted that much better because you got it for him. You. The woman that was thrown into his life and challenged everything he thought he knew. The woman that was changing him for the better. The woman he didn’t want to let go.

-Day Nineteen-

The two of you get up early and set to work, breaking down your shelter to re-use the materials. You make new water canteens with long handles, creating paddles for the raft with a large branch crossed at the end with four short bamboo shafts. You bind together strong cordage and lashings to build the raft, and more for securing it to the shore when you inevitably have to make landfall when it gets dark tomorrow night. 

You spent the night beneath the stars, Frankie’s arm your pillow as you looked at the clearest sky you’d ever seen. The weather was perfect and mild, the buzz of the mosquitos was low and the monkeys were at rest like they knew it was your last night in this location.

You turn your head to look at Frankie, but he’s already looking at you. You hold eye contact with him even though it hurts, it physically hurts looking at him because you know it’s all ending and you can’t believe how much you’ve grown to care for this person in such a short amount of time. 

“Frankie…”

“No.” He turns toward you, dragging you in by your waist and the arm you’re resting on, your face falling into the little nook between his neck and shoulder, and you just know what he means. No, I don’t want to talk about it right now. No, we need to focus on tomorrow’s journey. No, I actually can’t deal with this, because the thought of leaving you makes me just want to stay here. No, it’s not just you.

You hold him back in return, your hand splaying against his broad back, grown bonier from lack of food. You try not to sleep, to take in every moment so you can remember it, but your body decides for you and eventually, you pass out in his arms.

-Day Twenty-

The next day you get up early again, putting out your fire and gathering up your items and raft materials. It’s hot and humid and you’re not excited for this trek. You sling on your cordage and bamboo water jugs, picking up the walking sticks you’d made and head into the jungle. Frankie is ahead of you, and you’re glad for it so you can keep an eye on him. You know if he feels weak, he won’t say anything about it.

Frankie’s feet HURT. It’s almost unbearable and he winces every time he steps, the pressure of his own body on his ankles too much. He stumbles constantly, but every time you ask him if he wants to stop he refutes it. “I just wanna get there. I can rest once I’m there.”

You finally reach the area you need to be to construct the raft, and use the little energy you have to chop down the bamboo to construct it with the remaining hours you have left. You have to pause and catch your breath after almost every chop. How the fuck are you going to paddle eight miles after this?

You cut about 25 long shoots, and 12 more shorter ones for benches, kneeling down and tying them all together as tight as possible in as little time as you can. When you’re satisfied, you drag it into the water and settle yourselves on it, you in the front, Frankie controlling the back.

The going is slow and you also have to keep an eye out for caiman, your arms are burning but you need to get as far as you can. You don’t even stop when it thunders over you, rain drops pouring down as you methodically paddle onwards.

When you can’t even see nor paddle any longer, Frankie uses his larger paddle to steer you towards shore. You have no idea if you’ve chosen a good spot but you can’t see enough to find anything better, so you heave the raft up the bank as much as you can and lash it to the nearest tree before finally collapsing into the sand beneath you. You pass out in Frankie’s arms immediately as he takes first watch, occasionally throwing rocks at you don’t even want to know in the water. He wakes you up several hours later so you can switch.

-Day Twenty-One-

You had a hard time getting up. You’d told him limbs felt like lead and you were so sore you wanted to cry, but you both knew you had to get up. You were almost there. With Frankie’s support you get up at first light and hop back onto the raft, both thankful that at least you only had two or three more miles to go. It’s incredibly quiet, the desire to just be done with this the only thing pushing you forward as you zone out and just paddle. And paddle. And paddle more. 

Frankie calls your name and you twist your neck to look at him. He points at the sky. “Look.” You look forward and up at the most beautiful sunrise cresting over the horizon. You hadn’t even noticed it. Pink fading into yellow and a warm glow atop the water, Frankie focuses on it and continues on, passing small mountains and more jungle on your way to the Caribbean Sea.

Finally you turn a corner and there it is, the river widening out and opening into the open ocean. A surge of energy from nowhere speeds him up, paddling as fast as he can until his arms are screaming in pain with the effort. When you get close enough to the bank, he hops out and pushes you onto shore. You hop off into the sand and help pull the raft onto it before turning around to the cresting waves. 

“Look!” You cry out, pointing towards the tiniest boat beyond the waves. But it didn’t come closer, and your stomach drops when you realize you have to get through them to get there. 

Frankie looks at you and takes your hand before saying “lets do this”, and the two of you run with as much speed as you can and dive into the waves. The waves are rough and he realizes why the boat couldn’t come closer as they batter into you, he swears he doesn’t have enough energy left but he fights, scrambling to stay above the surf.

He constantly makes sure you are beside him, your face pulled into a grimace as you struggle not to be pulled under, but the current is so strong it’s pulling both of you too far to the left and away from the boat. You can hear the boat trying to reach you but the chopping waves are determined to remain a barrier between you. 

“Stay with each other!” They continue to yell at you as you dive under one more wave before finally getting beyond the surf, and Frankie bolts towards it, his body screaming at him. He reaches the boat first, arms shooting out as he grabs the edge and heaves himself over with a growl, tumbling onto his back as he tries to catch his breath.

You aren’t right behind him. He sits up abruptly and looks for you, his eyes darting all over the choppy surface of the water. He can’t see your head and he panics but then you pop up, a final errant wave must have caught you and pushed you back into the surf. You get past it once more and stall, your body simply refusing to function anymore. Your leg cramps and you feel yourself dipping under, and you tip your head back to stay above water. You got beyond the waves but you barely have the energy to swim the rest of the way.

She can’t make it. Frankie realizes you’ve finally hit the wall as he had days ago, and he doesn’t question his choice for a second. He jumps in the water to go get you, despite his own exhaustion, despite the fact that he might not be able to make it back either. You’re trying to make your way but it’s slow, and he knows there’s a chance you might just shut down or get swept away. You could die.

You try to call for him when you see him, and the panic in your voice taps into every ounce of energy he has left, reaching for that frog protein you gave him as he reaches you and grabs your wrist, his breaths heaving as he swims back with you to the side of the boat, the choppiness of the water throwing you against the metal with a bang.

You hang on to the edge as Frankie heaves himself up first, almost face planting into the bottom before turning around immediately to help the boatmen get you up. The side of the boat is higher than you have the energy to get over and you look absolutely exhausted. He grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you up, your other hand pushing against the rim to lift yourself up as far as you can. He wraps his arms around your hips and pulls, getting you the rest of the way over. You land backwards onto a bench and into his arms, crying as you feel him touching you all over to make sure you were okay. Just him, and safety, and him, rubbing your thigh, gripping your arm, pulling you into his warmth by the waist, pushing the wet hair from your face, a hand cupping your cold wet cheek and brushing tears and water and sand off them.  

He lets out a sob of relief, the salt helping him tear up as he cries into your hair, eventually sitting upright so the boat could start moving. “We’re in. We did it.”

You burst into laughter amongst your tears and you turn to him with the most beautiful and dirty smile he’s ever seen as you reach for him, hugging him to you as the boat heads off into the horizon.

----

When you land, you’re greeted with a gigantic table of goodies and water, and you and Frankie whoop as you race towards it, grabbing pizza, bread, baked goods, and even some vegan sweets for you. You sit around the table with the producers, medics, and camera-men, laughing and talking into the late afternoon.

After that it was check ups and weigh ins before you were finally each released to your own hotel room. You hop immediately into the shower, and stay in there for at least an hour scrubbing your body and scalp raw.

-Day Twenty-Two-

Both of you are on a three day medical hold to make sure you’re okay to go home with no bacteria or diseases. You sleep the entire next day, get in touch with whoever you need to, ordering room service straight to you so you can just lay down and not move.

You think about Frankie and where you stand, if it would be weird to go to him, if he would even want that. It was entirely possible it could just be done now, the comfort found in another person from necessity. Ultimately, you were strangers. And you would go your separate ways.

----

Once he woke up, he thought about you all day. He didn’t know what to do, what to expect now, but it was telling that you weren’t contacting him at all. For a little while he had really convinced himself that this actually was something, but now completely out of the situation, the idea was ridiculous. He was old enough to be your fucking father, he’s stubborn and annoying and you were completely different. He isn’t what you would choose.

He couldn’t sleep that second night, tossing and turning with thoughts of you screaming in his head. The way you held him when you slept when it wasn’t even cold out. Sometimes he felt your fingers gently stroking his skin. How you took care of him when he fell. When you gave him the frog. The sound of you crying out to him in the ocean and the way you clung to him when he got you up onto the boat. He thought about you coming out of that river like the fucking Birth of Venus, how it felt when he had you beneath his fingertips, his cock nudging against your ass. That one time you tried to teach him basic yoga and he collapsed into the sand, your laugh filling the air. How you always wanted to hold his hand when you slept.

No. There’s no fucking way. There’s no way this was platonic. There’s no way this was simply convenience.

He tosses the blankets off himself, throwing a hotel robe over his tee and boxers and all but rips the door open as he marches down the hallway to your door. He reaches up to knock but stalls, backpedaling on his thoughts and he is about to turn around and walk away when the door yanks open and you almost collide straight into him. 

You stare at each other, his hand still raised in a fist for the door that’s no longer in the way.

It only takes three seconds.

Your lips crash together and your upper limbs flail around as they find a part of each other to grasp. His hands land on your cheek and you suddenly realize his hand is the size of your entire face and how did that escape your notice ?!?!?! but then the other hand lands on your waist and he pushes you against the wall. He pulls away just enough to look in your eyes, his hooked nose bumping against yours.

You meet his lips again, softly, a small whimper sounding in the back of your throat and it drives him absolutely insane. He picks up speed, his lips nipping at yours as he kisses you again and again until you’re panting in between them, and he takes that opportunity to tilt his head and thrust his tongue into your mouth, moaning when it meets yours.

Your arm shoots out blindly to your left, struggling to find the door and when you find it you slap it closed with a bang, throwing your arms back around his neck as you explore his mouth in return. You bite his bottom lip and he groans, bending to pick you up under the thighs and carry you to the bed. You don’t stop kissing him on the way, and when you’ve reached the bed you uncross your legs from behind his back and let him toss you onto it.

You’re leaning back on your elbows looking up at him, your legs hanging off the bed and the tie of your own robe curled on the comforter. He picks it up and pulls it open, his hands moving under the lapels to part them, allowing you to shrug out of it. A little white tank top and some boxer shorts had never looked so good. He stands there staring at you, taking you in. Clean, soft, but covered in all the places he was used to seeing all the time. 

You swallow. “Ummm, I forgot to bring clothes for after…production bought me some undershirts and boxers…”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He rasps, his eyes trailing from your beautiful eyes to your lips, your heaving chest and the hint of your tits he can see through the fabric.

“Me too.”

He doesn’t know where to look, so overwhelmed from having you around him 24/7 but not actually being able to have you. You sit up, untying his own robe as he watches. You look up at him, sliding your fingers underneath the hem of his tee to touch the skin on his tummy, eventually pushing the shirt up enough to lean forwards and plant little kisses and licks there. He shivers, a small moan escaping his lips as you move back down, stroking his thighs and bony hips until you’re gripping the waistband tentatively. You look up at him again, you look so pretty from this angle and he desperately wants to see what you’d look like with his cock in your mouth.

“Please touch me. Don’t make me beg, baby.”

You smile, pressing another kiss on his happy trail as you reach to cup him, his cock twitching and hardening further under your palm. His mouth drops open as he watches you, your tiny hands palming him, thumb circling the tip of his cock until he can feel the pre-cum seeping into the cotton. You lick your lips, your face hovering right where he wants it and he whines above you. “What do you want?”

“Don’t care. Just want you. I’m yours if you want me, do whatever you want.”

You peel off his boxers, his massive cock bouncing out and the only thing that’s on your mind is how much you want to kiss it. You take him in your hand, so thick your hand almost doesn’t make it around  as you lean forward and lap the pre-cum dripping from his fat cock head.

The noises he makes are sinful and you can feel wetness gathering between your thighs from them alone. You open your mouth and take him, he’s so big you can only get a third of it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his shaft as his hands shoot to the back of your head. Not pushing, simply resting there as you work him. You pop off him and catch your breath, looking up at his beautiful face pinched in pleasure. “You’re so fucking big.”

“Oh fuck…” He sighs, and you wrap your lips around him again, corkscrewing your hand on the parts you can’t reach. He flinches, his hips jerking forward as he accidentally thrusts into your throat but you grab him by the ass to keep him there, allowing him to gently fuck your throat. 

When he pulls out, cum and saliva is dripping from your lips and he curses, throwing off the robe and ripping his tee off. “Lay back on the bed.” You do eagerly and he chases you, hovering over you as you pull your tank top up and over your head, throwing it on the ground. He immediately drops to your breasts, squeezing and stroking them, pinching and kissing and nibbling your nipples until you’re squirming under him.

“Frankie…please fuck me.”

He sits up on his knees and pulls off your boxers and underwear, all but drooling over your pubic mound before taking you by the thighs and throwing them over his shoulders. You don’t know what you were expecting but it wasn’t him diving right in, his fingers spreading you wide and the flat of his tongue lathing against your folds, collecting your wetness with a hum. He takes his time, paying attention to every square inch of you before sliding up and suckling at your clit, his fingers gently circling your entrance before one gently pushes in. 

You keen, your back arching in a U over the bed as he works you open, sucking at you and thrusting into you with increasing speed. When more slick comes rushing out to meet his hand, he pushes in a second finger, then a third, pumping them and curling them inside of you as you cry above him. 

“Frankie.” You gasp, a hand reaching out and gripping his hair, pulling on it to get him back up to you. “Please fuck me. I want you so bad.” 

He lifts his head to meet your eyes, his nose and chin covered in your pre-cum. “I want to baby, but I gotta get you ready for me. You’re so fucking tight. So fucking sweet.” He bends back down, pushing a fourth finger in and the stretch burns with pain and pleasure at the same time. He finger fucks you, your cries egging him on as they pitch higher, and it’s like he knows you so well that he knows just when to take your clit back into his mouth and suck hard.

You scream his name, your thighs involuntarily squeezing his head but he loves it, moaning as he takes everything you give him until you’re whimpering and trembling beneath him. When you catch your breath he’s on his knees over you, his cock flushed and pink and pointing towards the ceiling. You reach for him and he crawls to you, as he gets closer you see he has a few little grays in his pubic hair and for some reason it drives you crazy. You yank him to you, opening your thighs and he settles between your legs, kissing you tenderly while he notches himself at your entrance.

“Fuck baby, I can’t wait. I can’t.” He pushes in and you cry out, he’s so fucking big and your lips spread wide to accommodate him as he pushes forward slowly, determined to be fully inside you.

He’s only halfway in when you halt him, your hands gripping his biceps. “I can’t…”

“You can. I know you can. You will.” He reaches down to gently thumb at your clit, and when you release more fluid he pushes the rest of the way in, moaning as he becomes fully seated.

“Oh my god, oh fuck!” It feels like he’s splitting you to the brink, you’re just so full of him. You didn’t know you could scream so loud when he pulls back and pushes back in, but you don’t want him to stop. He’s so gentle with you, murmuring praise in your ear and  stroking your face and your shoulders as you struggle to accommodate him, you can feel how much he’s holding back and how much he wants you. His hip bones stick out too far and jut into yours, and his back feels bony under your hands as you encourage him to speed up.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“It’s good…please fuck, I’m good, just fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ you’re so fucking sexy.” He groans as he lurches forward, his hips rolling against yours as he fucks into you. “So fucking sexy when you yell at me and tell me I’m being stupid…” 

You can’t even speak, he can tell he’s incapacitating you completely and all you can do is take him, the lack of energy you still have allowing him to take control and push you open, leaning back and pulling your hips up to meet him as he starts thrusting deeper into you. He pushes your thighs up and pulls all the way out, his cock red and shining with your cum, then stuffs himself all the way back in. You wail out every time his hips meet with yours. 

“Oh yea, scream for me baby. Wanted to do this when you were rubbing your pretty little ass against me in your sleep, fuck you right in the dirt for the whole jungle to hear, but this hotel will have to do.”

He punctuates that with a rough press of his hips, watching your eyebrows tilt and your mouth hang open in silent moans as he keeps pulling his huge dick all the way out and slamming it all the way back in. “So fucking frustrating.” He growls. “Don’t fucking listen, fight with me on everything, now look at you. Not talkin’ now.”

The room is filled with the slapping of skin, the squelching of your wet cunt taking him, your sobs and cries, his erotic grunts and moans. “Fuck you so good you can’t talk, yea? Tell me.”

“Yes! Fuck!”

“I like you talkin’ though. Like you defying me, like you yelling at me, bein’ a little brat. Fucking love it. Oh...shit. Knew you’d look so pretty stretched around my cock. I can barely fit in you. But you’re gonna take me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh shit…oh fuck..oh shit…fuck…I like you so much, I like you so fucking much.” He presses his forehead to yours, you can feel his sweat against your skin. That familiar scent of him, the musk and tang oh his sweat making you want him closer, need him closer.

“Frankie…I like you so much.”

He kisses you sloppily, sighing as he pulls away and sucks on your ear. “I’m.--I’m old enough to be your father–”

“I don’t care!” You gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him deeper, clenching your walls around him. “I like it, I like it so fucking much. You’re so fucking stubborn and—oh, Frankie I’m gonna cum.”

“Come on sweetheart, give it to me.” He presses his thumb to your clit, swiping side to side to reach the entire bud as you tense below him, your coil building with each thrust of his massive cock deep in you and his calloused finger pad rubbing your clit, the scrape of his graying beard against your cheek. “Yea, yea, yea, give it to me. Want your little pussy to cum all over my cock.”

It’s so much, the overstimulation of sounds and words and touch and smell overwhelms you until you’re spasming under him, cumming with a high pitched wail as he speeds up, cooing in your ear.  You cum so much the sound of him entering you sounds like splashing into the stream water. He puts a hand over your mouth. “Listen. Want you to listen to how wet you are for me. Listen while I cum.”

He pulls back and looks at you, your face completely wrecked and fucked out, your tits bouncing under him, the slap of his balls on your ass and snarls as he pulls out, stroking his cock briskly until he cums a giant load on your stomach and tits. 

“Holy shit.” He’s panting hard and he falls forward a bit, landing on a hand before rolling to the side of you and flopping on his back. He’s clean and fed, but his energy level still clearly needs time to recover. He looks at you, you’re lying against the pillow with your eyes closed and a smile on your face and he remembers his manners.

“Be right back.”

“Okay…”

He heaves himself up, taking a moment to gain his bearings before moving to the bathroom and coming back with a wet cloth, gently wiping his cum from your body before tossing it on the floor and sliding back into bed. He opens his arms hoping, and you meet him, nestling himself against his side, your fingers trailing his happy trail.

“This is nice.” He murmurs.

You hum, then look up at him with worry in your eyes. “Can…will you stay with me? Tonight?”

He looks deep into your eyes and senses fear in them, they’re a little watery and slightly panicked looking. It makes him feel afraid too, but he doesn’t know why. “Of course I will sweetheart. I’ll stay until you kick me out.”

“Okay.” You bury yourself into the warmth of his chest and he turns towards you, holding you just as he did in the wild. He preferred it this way though.

-Day Twenty-Three-

Waking up in the morning safe and warm and tangled in your body was even better. It was late morning and your ass was pressed against his dick again, making him harden almost immediately.

“Doing it to me again, are you?” He rasps, and you quietly giggle and wriggle your more against him. His hand moves from your stomach to your breast, cupping it and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll fuck you right here if you don’t stop. Just like this.”

You don’t, and he bites at your shoulder before grabbing your ass and scooting your backside up more, allowing him to press his cock against your slit. You whine softly, tilting your hips forward and back so the thick length of him slides back and forth between your wet lips. “Sweetheart, need to get you ready.” He groans again as he passes back over your hole, dipping in a little with the tip of his cock. “Gotta help you take me.”

You whine again, speeding up your movements. “No…just wannit.”

He bites his lip. “MMmmmmm yea? You want this cock? Want it to fill you up?

“Yessssss.”

He chuckles darkly, grabbing himself and slapping his cock against your pussy a few times before lifting one of your ass cheeks and pushing in, allowing him to see more from the angle. It’s a struggle because he didn’t work you, and he has to get a little rough to stuff himself in you as you squirm and babble nonsense against him.

It feels like he goes on forever, and he releases a guttural grown once he’s flush with your ass. You’re panting from the stretch and he is obsessed with the sounds of your body trying to accommodate him, wants to give you what you asked for so he starts moving, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you, the headboard of the bed slamming into the wall.

“Oh my…oh fuck…oh shit oh shit fuck you’re so fucking big I—” You scream on one particular hard thrust, reaching back to grab the massive hand yanking you back and forth onto his cock, trying to stabilize yourself.

“Yea, you like that? SO fucking sexy, god you’re so fucking young.” He moans, slowing down so he doesn’t cum too fast. His hand leaves your hip and you arch your back to impale yourself as he takes you by the chin, bending you enough so he can whisper in your ear. “Would you have fucked me if you were home, pretty young thing?”

“Not–not if you opened your mouth.”

“Oh god I love your bratty fucking mouth.” Frankie grunts, and he teases your lips with his fingers. You open for him immediately, and he thrusts two fingers into your mouth to suck on. You nibble on them, licking and sucking as he whines, picking up his pace again as he all but splits you open. 

“Want you to touch yourself. Want to feel you cum again, squeeze me so tight. Touch your little clit and come with me stuffed in you.”

You don’t need him to demand twice, you can feel his hand on your jaw gripping a little too tight as his body tenses behind you, you know he’s about to cum and you want to make him, make him cum again so maybe you can remember what it feels like when you’re back home and all of this is over. You rub yourself frantically, moans pitching higher as he starts stuttering. 

“M’gonna cum baby, I’m sorry, gotta fuckin’ cum.” He withdraws and you almost scream at him in frustration, but before he can ejaculate you push on his chest and grab the base of his big cock, squeezing in the hope you can edge him. You’re not ready for it to end. He throws his head back and curses. “God, fuck! Always gotta have it your way.”

“Yes.” And you swing your leg over him, reaching back to line him up and sinking all the way onto his cock, immediately setting a rolling pace, grinding your aching clit against his thick mass of pubic hair. He’s finally quiet, his mouth gaping open and his forehead all scrunched, the cords of his neck covered in that salt and pepper beard bulging as he tries to hold out, but you don’t need long. You buck your hips five or six more times before you break, squeezing him to hell as you gush around him. 

“Baby you gotta get off, gotta get off I’m gonna cum.”

“No. I want you inside me.” You push yourself down on him, clinging to his chest like a spider monkey and he curses once more, wrapping his arms around your back and thrusting up a few more times until he comes with a shout, the hot ropes of cum filling you up and making the end of your climax warm and tingling.

When he catches his breath, he tilts your chin up with one finger. “Sweetie, what did—”

“I just wanted you to stay with me.” You slide off him, sitting on the backs of your calves, squeezing your thighs in the hope he won’t drip out of you.

He sits up, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I am staying with you, what do you mean?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow. For home.”

“I know...”

“So, what do you think is going to happen?”

He looks down, panic rising in his chest as he realizes what you’re about to say. “No. We can do this, I–I can come visit you and you can come see me and—”

“I don’t want a long-distance relationship Frankie. It never works.”

“Move in with me, just come live with me then.”

“Frankie, I have a job and a life too. Why don’t you move to me?”

He realizes then it’s a stalemate and you’re right. There’s simply no way this could work. You’re too far away, not just where you live but in your lives, in your goals, your beliefs, even down to what you eat. You’re completely different.

“Fuck.”

You nod slightly, following an imaginary pattern on the sheet with your finger. “Yea.”

“Can you at least be with me until you have to leave?”

“Yea. I’d really like that.”

-Six Months Later-

t’s a full house at Frankie’s as his friends and family come for the premiere of his episode. He’s nervous, not sure what it would feel like to see you again, even from the TV. 

You’d stayed in touch for a bit, but eventually it became too hard on you and you stopped reaching out. He stepped back, even though it fucking hurt more than anything in the challenge to let you go. But you were right, again. The distance was too much, it never would have worked, so he resigned himself to watching you from afar. Watching you succeed, maybe fall in love with someone else. Get married. And he’d be alone. He didn’t want anyone else. Unrequited love isn’t as romantic as you think it would be.

He gets through the episode well considering. His friends pepper him with questions on how “close” you were, his mom smiling at him knowingly, but he jokes it off and insists, “She’s just a friend. Nah, she’s just my close friend.” Even when you snuggled together. When you talked in the night under the diary cams. When he covered you with his body when you were hypothermic. When you washed each other and snuggled afterwards. 

He could blow them off. Until the end of the episode, when he finally got to see the closing interviews.

(Frankie): I would never have made it through this without her. She's just as strong as me. Stronger, actually. She taught me to respect every life, think about every choice I make, to think about the man I want to be. The man I wanna be for her.

Everyone turned and looked at him and he sighed, looking back up when it was your turn. You looked so fucking beautiful, even caked in mud and dirt. It’s how you looked when he fell for you.

(You): The person I first met is not who is beside me now. I definitely did not have a good first impression of Frankie when we started. But…I was able to trust him, and it makes me so happy that I was able to teach this stubborn man some things. *you laugh* He’s become really important to me…and… *you choke up, tears sliding down your face* ummm…I don’t want him to leave. I don’t wanna leave him. 

(Producer): Do you love him?

(You): Yea, I do.

The room is so quiet the final assessments seem blaringly loud, his mind scrambling as he processes what you just said on the air. For thousands of people to see.

(Narrator): Frankie lost a total of 30 pounds. Despite his stubborn attitude and the difficulty securing protein, putting his trust in his partner and his perseverance to push through the pain got him and his partner to the end. His Primitive Survival Rating raises from 7.1 to 7.6.

(You) lost 15 pounds. Despite a vegetarian diet, you excelled, gaining numerous skills and proving you are able to make the tough decisions needed to get your   partner through the challenge. Your PSR raises from 6.5 to 7.6.

He loved you. And you loved him.

But you still left.

[rainbowsky]

Hey rbs, Happy holidays! Sorry to bother you but there has been something on my mind lately. Are there any moments where either GG or DD supported/showed support to LGBT?

That's a more complicated question than you might think.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

Because of the political situation in China, it's not safe to appear to be a part of a political movement, especially one that seeks to fight against official positions and policies. It's part of why Pride parades aren't allowed in China anymore. It's a big part, I'm sure, of why there's been a crackdown on queer organizations and queer university groups in China.

The official position from the regime is that every citizen has a patriotic duty to enter a heterosexual marriage and breed as much as possible - they have a '3 child' policy they've been pushing - and it seems that in their minds, being queer directly runs against those goals (as I've said many times, there's no reason why being queer should prevent people from having children if they want to, except the unjust laws that stand in their way).

People can and do express support for or acceptance of queer relationships, but top celebrities can only do so within a very limited narrow interpersonal parameter. There are a few reasons for this:

There is a stated policy that celebrities must express ideas that align with the regime's positions. Any artist who fails to do so could face blacklisting and/or 'reeducation'.

The censorship laws in China forbid homosexuality being presented in a favorable light (or really, at all) in any significant way.

As I stated previously, in China it's not safe to appear to be part of a protest or political movement.

Queer celebrities are especially ill-advised to show any political leanings in support of homosexuality, because it would put them at extra risk. It's also part of why there are so few gay men in China willing to openly admit they are turtles. They don't want GGDD's ship to be given a political tone by the conspicuous presence of queer men in the fandom, so they keep any support low-key and under the radar.

Having said that, GG and DD have both shown alignment with the LGBTQ community from time to time.

They both have been known to frequently wear brands from LGBTQ-led design houses including DSQUARED_2, Charles Jeffrey, Alexander McQueen, Tom Ford, Christian Louboutin, Martine Rose, Jacquemus and others.

GG posted popular gay anthem Somewhere Over the Rainbow for International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia back in 2017. (He also sang the song with Zhao Lei live on 2016/11/19, a date turtles believe might be GGDD's anniversary.)

DD's famous sneakers and ice cream post, which led some gossip sites to claim he had come out of the closet. @potteresque-ire did a great analysis of that post here. There was also good analysis from @untamedconnotations back when the video was posted, and you can find that here.

A 2011 Weibo conversation where GG showed support for a gay friend who had posted about having a new boyfriend.

GG wearing Pride sneakers for an interview.

A Pride flag showing up in the foreground of a Kai Xiao Zao ad GG appeared in this year. This one is ambiguous because it could have been chosen by the brand, but considering that's a photo of Jianguo next to it, it's possible that it actually came from GG (the kadian on the clock - 23:00, 'Love Zhan' is also cute).

GG selecting a rainbow watch to represent romance for a Zenith Qixi Festival ad campaign.

GG singing gay anthem Post Coital Tristesse on NYE last year.

Endorsing some queer-friendly brands, especially Budweiser, Bubly and some other international brands that have been known to be vocal supporters of LGBTQ rights. Budweiser has even done some queer-friendly advertising in China.

When he was in Milan, GG posted a photo (3:50 in video) of a cathedral where people had gathered to celebrate gay marriage being made legal. It's not clear that he posted it because of the queer context, but a lot of fans made note of it. He posted another photo of it during his February 2023 Milan trip. More on this CPN here.

GG sang Tempting Heart when he was on Our Song, which is a song from the 1999 film of the same name. The film is about a love triangle involving a lesbian woman, and the lyrics of the song allude to that.

Some fans believe GG may have posted in reference to the anniversary of Leslie Cheung's death on 4/1/22.

On 23 April 2022 GG posted a Douyin where he read a poem by celebrated queer poet Edith Södergran.

DD mentioned Brokeback Mountain in a video clip

GG and DD are both Spongebob fans.

GG mentioned in an interview that he'd like to see The Whale.

DD chatting happily with queer icon Dan Levy at the Loewe show in Paris.

There's also their frequent association with rainbows.

The rainbow watches in their lives (including GG choosing one for a Zenith Qixi Festival ad campaign, not on that list).

GG appearing next to a rainbow rabbit in a Roseonly ad.

GG wearing a rainbow stars jacket and Pride colors rainbow belt for his live performance of Running to You With All I Have last year.

GG wearing a rainbow fox hoodie to interview Wan Fang last year.

GG wearing a rainbow watch and using a rainbow badminton racket for photo set he posted on Weibo.

DD wearing a rainbow Thrasher logo hoodie during rehearsal for his Just Like Sunshine dance performance.

GG including a set of rainbow colored chopsticks in his annual PR gift box.

DD wearing pants with rainbow patches for a Chanel event on the first day of Pride (not Chanel pants).

I’ll keep updating this post as I think of more, or as more references occur. If you think of one that I’ve missed please let me know.

DD wearing a rainbow colored outfit for the Loewe show in Paris during Pride month.

GG posting a vacation picture with a Pride flag hanging from a balcony.

Bottom line: It's unrealistic for international fans to expect to see overt expressions of Pride from GGDD, like we would see from North American or European stars, but I think they show what they are able to safely show.

Edit: More on DD's Pride rainbow connections here.

[rocorambles]

Meeting in the Middle

Pairing: Sakusa x reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Misogyny, Controlling Behavior, Degradation, Non-Con/Rape, Spanking

Summary: Sakusa shows you that he’s more than capable of meeting you in the middle and listening to you for a change. But be careful of what you ask for.

A/N: This is for the Poly Wives Angst Collab~ RIP us and our never ending collabs we create for ourselves.

If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be dating one of Japan’s most eligible bachelors, a professional athlete fawned over by media and fans nation-wide, the epitome of the strong and silent type, you would have laughed in their faces. What is this? Some silly fairytale? The childish checklist of “things I want in a boyfriend” you’d written in middle school?

But life has a funny way of working and you find yourself in an obnoxiously lavish and rowdy nightclub, made only more crazy by the surprising appearance of some VIPs.

It seems like volleyball has somehow become Japan’s national sport overnight and although you aren’t necessarily the biggest follower of anything remotely athletic, even you know exactly who the rambunctious trio catching everyone’s eyes are.

You can’t deny there’s more than just a bit of appeal in the way their button up shirts cling to toned muscles, but you’ve never been one for crowds and you stray to the emptier corners of the establishment to avoid being swept by the crowd of excited fans. But when Atsumu cheesily winks and flirts as he signs scandalously bared skin of female fans, you mockingly gag, only to whirl in embarrassment when you hear an amused snort from behind you.

“Not a fan of Miya Atsumu?”

Staring wide-eyed and slack jawed when someone asks you a question is very rude and you want to answer. But you don’t trust yourself with basic human speech when Sakusa Kiyoomi is staring at you expectantly. So you shake your head side to side instead, heat rising to your face at the small upward curve of his lips.

“Neither am I.”

Atsumu never lets the two of you live down how he’s the one who technically brought you together, even if it was at the cost of his pride. (You chuckle when you remember his loud squawking when Sakusa recounts the dialogue exchanged at your first meeting.) But even months later, even after Sakusa has officially introduced you to the rest of the MSBY team, even after they’ve accepted you as part of their cozy and rowdy family, you can’t stop feeling impostor syndrome.

Dating Sakusa still feels unreal and you can’t help but feel like you’re living someone else’s life, stuck in a rose-tinted dream, playing dress-up and make believe as you parade around in clothing far more luxurious than you’re used to, whisked around on your lover’s strong arm as you follow him around the world from match to match. And as lovely as it is, you long to truly make this relationship your own, to feel the rawness and grittiness of love and life, to experience the charm and comfort of being true to yourself and knowing Sakusa loves you just as you are.

But your desire to be with him, to call him your own trumps your own wishes and you find yourself quickly backing down everytime you suggest something that he’s quick to turn down, desperate to appease and please him even at the price of your own desires.

He’s never outrightly rude about his preferences, never raises his voice. But somehow that makes the judgement and disdain in his dark eyes that much more apparent. You remember a rough day of work you had, the relief you had felt about being able to swiftly swap your constrictive work apparel for a pair of worn-in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Your outfit would certainly not win any fashion awards, but you blissfully sigh at how comfortable you are as you call a local pizza shop, ordering delivery self-indulgently.

You could feel yourself becoming one with the couch you’re lounging on, the television playing in the background. But even in the hazy in-between of sleep and alertness, your eyes snap open when the door opens and you lazily smile as your boyfriend enters your shared apartment, returning from another grueling practice.

“You look like you’ve had better days.”

Your smile slips, anxiety flooding through you as you self-consciously curl in on yourself while his lips purse, eyes scrutinizing your sloppy appearance.

“Umm, yeah...tough day at work-”

“Maybe you should freshen up with me. You might feel better in a...real outfit.”

You know better than to think that it’s really a suggestion, cursing yourself, humiliation coursing through you when you think of how foolish you were to get so comfortable so quickly. You’ve seen the caliber of the women who lust over your boyfriend unabashedly despite his long-time relationship with you. You need to try harder. You need to be better.

Self-deprecation rips you to shreds as you painstakingly groom yourself, donning a dress you know Sakusa loves, applying a full face of makeup and a spritz of his favorite scent. And despite how exhausted you are, how much you’d rather be slumped on the couch, gorging on a slice of pizza, it’s all worth it when you see the appreciative look in his gaze as his eyes rake over your figure.

But worry gnaws at you once more as the doorbell rings and his eyebrow raises questioningly at the interruption. It’s a painful walk of shame as you plaster on a fake smile, tipping the delivery boy, the usually tantalizing smell of cheese and grease only making you nauseous as you bring the box to the dining table.

“What is that?”

“Dinner…”

Your voice trails off and you feel so small, so pathetic as Sakusa’s face borders disgust as he observes the offensive item.

“You didn’t cook?”

The disappointment in his voice has you spewing excuses and apologies, your heart shattering when he merely waves off your ramble, telling you he’d order a salad from elsewhere and to enjoy your meal.

You never order pizza again and a steaming hot plate of freshly cooked food is always waiting for Sakusa when he returns home while you patiently wait for him with a painted face and impeccable outfits.

Your friends and family tell you how grateful you should be, how envious they are as they oggle your latest high-end designer pieces, cooing over how picture perfect the two of you always are, staring wide-eyed at your gorgeous home, not a speck of dust or object out of place. Who would have thought that you would be the epitome of the ideal housewife in such a short time?

Yes, you wonder. Who would have thought? Certainly not you.

If only they knew how deep down the deception goes, how lost you are in this pretend world you’re stuck in. And your heart twists and turns when your friends share about the little and big spats that happen behind closed doors, giggling and sighing in an understanding you’re not part of when they playfully complain about how much work love is.

But it’s always worth it in the end because the good always outweighs the bad if you’ve found the right person (not to mention the makeup sex is a bonus). Or so they say, but you wouldn’t know what any of that feels like. Sakusa doesn’t leave room for any arguments, any disagreements, any hint of anything less than a perfect relationship.

Even in the privacy of your bedroom, you feel like you’re in a cheesy porno, dressed in the prettiest white slip dress decorated with dainty lace and a string of pearls around your neck. You feel like a doll as you’re positioned on the bed, eyes demurely looking down, letting Sakusa do as he pleases while he guides you, calloused hands roaming over your skin. You’re sure he means for it to be pleasurable and intimate, and you can’t deny that he knows your most sensitive areas, shuddering when he grazes over your hardening nipples. But there’s a coldness to his movements, a calculating aspect in the way he examines you, dark eyes scrutinizing every inch of you as if they’re looking for a blemish, a reason to lecture you on not taking care of yourself.

Yet as predictable and standoffish as he is, he does know how to pleasure you and you writhe underneath him, moaning, lower lips dripping in your own arousal. But you whimper when he growls at you to stop moaning so loudly, to stop acting like a slut.

“I’m dating a lady, not a whore.”

The words cut you, pain and emptiness mixing with the rising pleasure, muddling into a confusing and overwhelming mess insides of you. You don’t trust yourself to speak, hot tears pricking at your eyes, unsure whether a moan or harsh words would slip past your lips. But you know that neither will work in your favor, so like always, you hold your tongue, doing whatever you can to keep your lover happy. You close your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the tightening knot inside of you, submitting to the waves of pleasure that crash over you as you cum, fingers tangling in the rumpled sheets, back arching in ecstasy.

Only when Sakusa is asleep, his back turned to you, the two of you cleaned and freshened up, do you let your tears stream down your face, feeling more alone than ever in your shared bed.

You hold out longer than you should, much longer than you should, in the hopes that things will improve, that Sakusa will loosen up, reveal his true self to you, let you reveal your true self to him. It’s just early dating jitters, early relationship issues. Things will get better.

Except it’s months later and things aren’t better. If anything, they’re worse and you can feel the weight of his expectations and the stress of perpetually living by a prewritten script crushing you.

It’s time to put an end to this charade.

It’s just another uneventful night and you idly stare up at the ceiling as you wait for Sakusa to join you in bed. Your heart is racing, throat feeling dry and choked up as he slips under the covers. You’re terrified, of Sakusa’s reaction, of ending everything, of starting from scratch. But you know it’s the right decision and when he finally settles in beside you, you begin to speak.

There’s only the sound of your trembling voice as you quietly tell him how you’ve felt all along, how everything has felt so prim, proper, fake, how everyday just feels like another session of rehearsing your lines, making sure you meet whatever standard he’s set for you. You want passion, real love, fights, laughter. You just want to be yourself. You just want to be with someone who loves you exactly the way you are.

“Kiyoomi, maybe we should break up. I don’t think we’re right for each other. I don’t think I’m what you want. I don’t think I’ll ever be what you want.”

“You’re right. Despite how much time, work, money, and patience I’ve spent to better you, you haven’t changed at all.”

You’re left reeling from the matter of fact harshness of his words, the slight exasperation in his tone, as if this is all your fault, as if you’re just a bothersome misbehaving pet.

“Prim and proper? Passion? Fights? So you’re tired of manners? Tired of being a respectable woman? You just want to fight and fuck like animals?”

You open your mouth to protest, anger licking at the open wounds his verbal assault leaves behind. But before you can retort, the air is ripped out of your lungs in a stunned yelp as your body is swiftly flipped over, your face shoved into the mattress until it’s a struggle to breathe, fabric and cushion all you can taste.

Your arms flail as you struggle to breathe, nails clawing at the sheets, arms trying to push yourself up against. But it’s no use against Sakusa’s strength and just as specks of black begin to enter your vision, fingers tangle with your roots and you gasp as your head is harshly jerked up, neck bending painfully back, jaw forced open from the strange position.

You whimper, tears beginning to blur your sight as a calloused hand turns your face until you’re staring at a condescending impassive countenance.

“If you want to be treated like a slut that badly, I’ll be a good boyfriend and give you exactly what you want. Ass up. Now.”

There’s no room for disobedience and spurred on by fear and pain, you listen, awkwardly shuffling into position, shame heating your face at how exposed you feel. But it’s only the start and you scream as a heavy strike lands on your bare ass, more and more blows raining down upon you, until you’re sobbing for mercy, agonized cries forced from your mouth, thighs trembling at having to support yourself through the torture.

Your upper body slumps in relief when the hits finally stop, but you flinch when fingers methodically prod at your entrance. You instinctively try to lurch forward, away from the touch, but it’s no use and you clench your eyes in humiliation at the sloppy wet sounds betraying your arousal.

“This is the wettest I’ve ever seen you. You really do like being used and treated like a bitch.”

You wish you could deny it. You wish you had the spirit to talk back, maybe even spit on that handsome face. But all you can think of is how full you feel as Sakusa’s cock slams balls deep inside your dripping hole, how deep he is inside of you from this angle, how overwhelmingly pleasurable the mix of pain and lust is as he uses you like you’re nothing more than a warm breathing sex doll.

All you can do is lewdly moan and take it, tears slipping down your face, drool seeping into the ruined sheets, eyes rolled back in your head. The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens no matter how hard you try and hold it at bay, desperately trying not to cum, not to inadvertently admit your body’s betrayal as it succumbs to every thrust. But it’s too much, the unfamiliarity of this brutal pace, the overpowering sensation of his tip reaching new depths inside of you, and you shatter to pieces, pussy convulsing, body twitching, pleasure like you’ve never felt before surging through you.

All through it Sakusa continues his relentless rhythm, a sneer marring his flawless face as he watches you suffer through your orgasm, writhing underneath him. It’s disgusting how much you love this, pathetic, pitiful, and yet he’s harder than he’s ever been, more turned on than he ever thought possible. And all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you, a strong hand holding you still and tight to him as his groin presses against your ass, not an inch of space between the two of you as he paints your insides white.

Maybe you had a point all along. You’re absolutely filthy and wrecked and he grimaces at the tear, sweat, and sex stained mess he touches as he shoves your exhausted body away from him. Yet there’s a certain appeal to your disheveled appearance, how ruined you are because of him.

How beautifully you break.

Well if you have no desire to improve yourself, he can learn to meet you in the middle, learn to let you be the low-life whore you have no desire to move up from. After all, that’s what you said love is, right?

Accepting each other’s differences.

[another-rational-deception]

Class 1-A as “Be More Chill” Cast Members

Hey y’all :,) I know it’s been a while im sorry. let me give little rundown of everything fast: first of all i marched in the 2022 Rose Parade in Pasadena, California, i got a job, im auditioning to be a section captian for this upcoming marching season, im playing/learning 5 instruments at once, my parents threatened to k!ll my cats, a few traumatic things happened to me in California, been trying to keep my grades up… i think that’s most of it. So, a lot has happened since august🥲 ill try to post every now and then, im so sorry LMFAO

ANYWAY im making these headcanons bc im bored, and im playing in the pit band for the school musical which happens to be Be More Chill and thought this would be interesting :) this is which parts they would all get if they all auditions, or just parts I think fit them well

D*rk content blogs, do not interact with me at all.

Main Cast

Sero gets lead role of Jeremy Heere. Ultimately he was the one who was able to nail the nerdy, awkward vibe Jeremy has the most while also having the voice to do those big parts (Ex. Ending “survive” chord from “More Than Survive”). He’s also really good at getting really excited during “Two Player Game”. Ojiro would have gotten Jeremy but he couldn’t get over Jeremy’s opening line or all of the scenes with Brooke, he couldn’t do it. He felt very wrong and uncomfy thinking abt it😭

Iida is the squip. I was going to say Momo, but the squip is supposed to look like Keanu Reeves and i don’t quite think Momo is giving Keanu💀 Iida’s normal personality just fits the Squip’s “matter of fact” snarky quips. He’s good at staying serious, it’s almost scary how good at the Squip he is.

Koda would have been an AMAZING Michael Mell if he would have tried out for the part. He has the voice of an angel and he just would have been great at Michael’s part specifically. Unfortunately he didn’t audition for any role and Kaminari got the role of Michael, and he does phenomenal. The class thinks he’s having an actual panic attack when he performs “Michael In The Bathroom” and they freak out

Funny enough, Bakugou Rich Goranski. The class was surprised to find out that Bakugou was going to audition, and even more surprised when he got Rich. No one thought he would suck up his own pride enough to be able to play a geek like Rich but he did it and he actually did pretty good

Speaking of Rich, Kirishima would make a great Jake. He would be great at Jake’s singing parts, and could absolutely pull off Jake’s general attitude, the rich douche that sucks at pretending to be humble.

Uraraka gets Christine. It was really close between her and Hagakure, but ultimately Hagakure was given the role of Brooke, she was able to hit those really high notes easier and Brooke’s role made Uraraka short circuit thinking about it.

Momo gets Chloe and Mina gets Jenna. Jenna fits Mina perfectly, Mina would be a lier if she claimed she didn’t LOVE gossip. Also she thinks Jenna’s “woah” during “Smartphone Hour (Rich set a Fire)” is the funniest thing and she jumped at the chance to do it. Momo was kind of pushed to audition in the first place and wound up getting Chloe. She was surprised, but she was committed to the role and did incredible.

Sato is Jeremy’s dad and Shoji is Mr. Reyes. I really can’t explain Sato, but Shōji just likes that all he really has to do is eat a hot pocket every now and then. He’s content.

Everyone else plays the students of Middleborough High and mall shoppers. Aoyama and Mineta are disappointed they didn’t get lead roles, but honestly everyone else is just happy to be there.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Midnight Magic

A/N: Wrote a smutty part 2 to accompany you lovely folks! 🥰🥰

MASTERLIST

Henry Cavill x Reader

Also, if I keep tagging you and you’re not interested or want to be tagged; please let know!

Word Count: 1855k 

Warnings: MUCH PROMISED FLUFF, dirty talk, implied smut, foreplay, kissing, language, teasing

***********************************************

Y/N wasn’t someone to demand attention but tonight was a different story entirely. Whether it be the holiday magic in the air or the sheer happiness exuding from her beaming smile, they’d never know for sure.  She glazed into the fireplace awaiting the arrival of her midnight kiss to show up. The embers flickered uncontrollably creating a spellbinding illusion of comfort. The cerulean blue hue of her dress was majestically magnificent, custom designed to perfection leaving little to the imagination. Paired with a sexy high slit revealed the majority of her right leg; just enough access.

This New Year’s Eve Henry had the peculiar notion to get dressed up as if they were enjoying the evening out. Y/N almost died of happiness then and there seeing the childish reflection in her husband’s hypnotic orbs. 2020 was one helluva year and though it brought them closer than ever as a couple, Y/N wasn’t blind to the hardships occurring throughout the world.  

His loins stirred excitedly as lust glazed over his features growing semi-hard. The only barrier holding them from going at it like teenagers. He licked his lips in anticipation eager to have his wife all to himself. No lavish parties or parades of people to entertain this year, just the lot of them, alone and horny. He continued admiring her from afar pouring two flutes of champagne for the pair.

“You look positively scrumptious this evening, Mrs. Cavill.”

Henry silently crept from behind sneaking up unsuspectingly slow. Goosebumps riddled her gorgeous skin rippling in masses. His breath ticked the tiny, delicate hair adorning her neck shooting a pleasurable surge to her limbs. Both endlessly love drunk on one another. His sensational touch alone kicked every sense into overdrive, heightened every emotion he emitted. Y/N reached back entangling her fingers with his newly deemed ‘quarantine curls’ she’d loved to tug on. Small bites traced down her neck leaving small marks in his wake of destruction.

“May I add how delectable you are in a tuxedo, Hen? My god, my poor ovaries must be working overtime.”

A salacious smirk broke out on his lips eyeing her lustfully.

“You haven’t the finest clue what I want to do to you right now, my love.”

Her hips grinded back on their on accord knocking the air from his lungs. All his remaining blood rushed to the tip of his cock as his belly stirred in playful chaos. They swayed back and forth to the melody playing in the background both reflecting on their last year together.

Henry lined himself up with the shell of her ear wrapping his bulky arm firmly around her waist drawing her as close as possible.

“I’m truly astounded this is our 12th year celebrating as a couple.”

Y/N smiled thinking back when they first met. The year was 2008, Henry was a newly promoted regular to a Showtime series called The Tudors. Y/N was a brilliant writer, the brains behind the complex operation. Henry considered her the beauty and brains; Y/N hated when he talked down about himself saying she’d never once doubted the man who became a wonderful husband and even better daddy.

One unparticular day he’d spotted her struggling to balance a pretty hefty pile of scripts and tumbled right into him. Luckily, his super-size and strength kicked in just in time catching the eye of the attractive stranger. In that moment, Henry knew there was something about this woman he craved to figure out. He was just the lucky bastard on the reciprocating end.

“And thank god your parents volunteered to take the kiddos for the evening. Some private adult time is just what the doctor ordered. We owe them BIG time.”

Y/N winked leading him to decipher the meaning behind her blanket statements. She stepped from his grasp breaking his hold on her. He whined at the loss causing Y/N to eye him curiously.

Oh, you little tease.

Henry’s frisky nature broke through lighting the atmosphere around them. Due to the ongoing pandemic and what not, Henry and Y/N found themselves in wintry London at their main hub of a home. Henry’s roots were deep-rooted and his plea so passionate as she agreed to move across the world with him. Their lives halted for the better allowing the family to spend more time than usual as a unit. Though initially hectic and overwhelming, they were secretly thankful for these little moments with their four children. It was a time they so dearly valued at their imaginative ages.

“Oh, I bet my pops could sense the sexual tension oozing off you, darling. You smell mouthwatering.”

“Hush! Besides it is completely natural to pursue a sexual relationship with my husband outside of our children. Gotta keep you coming back for more…”

“Oh sweets, you have no earthly idea how bad I want to fuck you every day of my existence. You are absolutely divine and somehow all mine.”

“I can’t take all the credit. Nobody’s ever made me cum the way you managed to figure out. You play me like a damn instrument.”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh, you’re insatiable.”

“Oh, come on. Your sex drive is just as insane as mine. Admit it!”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip collecting her thoughts. Henry pried and teased her ribs forcing her to his whims.

“Fine, fine, you win! I’m a ravenous feign when it comes to you. You’d think having kids would cool my jets but then I see these gorgeous faces I birthed and it’s like I reset. Poof, just like that.”

“Well you’re a phenomenal Mum and quite the MILF too.”

Henry inhaled her perfumed scent taking a long sip of bubbly; anything to keep him from combusting.

“Let’s toast, love. We must.”

“My my, how time flies when you’re having fun.”

Her manicured fingers reached for the chilled glass looking up at Henry and his three-month-old beard. She rose her glass slightly higher in preparation for his speech. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she admired her husband.

“Thank you for loving me, Henry. Seriously, you changed my life in so many profound ways.”

The sap in him was beginning to show as his eyes watered with unshed tears; “My love, it is I who should be thanking for you the unending shower of love and affection. You are the beautiful mother of our four wonderous kids who are the absolute lights of my life because of you. You’re a woman worthy of many praises than my silly ramblings. Cheers to you and for another adventure of a year!”

She swatted his chest immediately shutting him up; “Don’t say that! I am just as equally lucky to have found someone who gets me for …me. It’s a wonderful feeling to have you by my side even if I did have to kiss a few frogs.”

“No doubt I the best possible selection.”

Y/N played along jesting back; “I wouldn’t go that far, maybe the easiest?”

Gob smacked Henry’s wit was rapid fire; “If memory serves, you were there too. And just as ravenous.”

“I was about to get nailed by an insanely hot British man. Can you blame me?”

“One look from you and I was a bloody puddle. I had to recite rugby players to keep from losing my shit.”

No matter life’s challenges the past years of their lives, their resolution to stay equals and lovers was stronger than ever. A sinful glow overcame Y/N as she stared directly up at him; “Cheers to you fucking me stupid then?”

“As you wish.”

She refused to glance away maintaining his smoldering gaze; her Y/C eyes screamed sex. His pupils dilated just as his heart speed up voraciously. Both subconsciously tilted their heads oppositely neither daring to move first, unwilling to yield. Y/N challenged his masculinity testing him. Many words could be used to describe Y/N but priss wasn’t one of them.  

“Oi, you are a true keeper.”  

Y/N checked the matching wrist watch completing her outfit; “T-minus 15 seconds until 2021 is here.”

Still unbreaking of her gaze, Henry stayed silent taking in the beauty of his wife. He could stare at her for the rest of his god given days and die a spectacularly happy man.

10,9,8

“Oh Hen, another marvelous journey with you. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.”

7,6

She stared down at his inviting pout unable to look away nor did she truly want to.

“Maybe thinking about another baby?”

Her eyes bulged from her skull as shock illuminated from her pores.

“You’re joshing me?”

His lack of response was more than confirmation enough.

5,4

“There’s something so ridiculously sexy about you being pregnant. I always knew I wanted kids but with you, oh with you I want to have as many as humanly possible. Our very own football team.”

Confusion stamped her features at his terminology. Sometimes Henry forgot they were from different countries.

“Football as in soccer. You know the game with the checkered ba—”

Y/N cut him off; “Jeez baby, save your mansplaining. I’ve been on this side of the pond long enough to understand your oh so clever references.”

3,2

The pros and cons bounced around in her head, doubt never far behind but the mischievous joy coming off him was tantalizing; “Let’s do it.”

2,1

Cheers rang ecstatically from the television as fireworks commanded their attention but they only had eyes for one another. Henry closed the gap kissing her feverishly. He was forever seared into her brain ruined for all other men. Lost in the moment, Y/N barely had time to set her glass down untrusting of her own balance anymore. Henry followed shortly behind. Now with her newfound freedom, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck locking him in place. His questioning tone was almost cause for concern before his façade shattered.

“Really? I do so enjoy seeing you round with my babe. So, fucking irresistible.”

Henry’s jacket was long removed strewn over the couch. That left him standing only in his tight button up and trousers. Y/N merely leaned back his direction bringing his attention towards the zipper aligning her spine. Henry chuckled undoing her dress too easily watching the zipper flair apart. He couldn’t resist admiring the flex of her muscles and how striking she was. Tugging the material over the curvy hips, Y/N noticed Henry was far too overdressed.

“Take off your clothes, now.”

“You bossin me round, babe?”

His muscular tush ignited in minimal pain as her hand connected with his ass whipping rather harshly. A small red welt appeared instantly. Henry stood shocked as Y/N’s smug smile decorated her face.

“You really shouldn’t push me. I don’t like my authority questioned.”

Henry’s mood shifted at her use of roleplay knowing he was in for a well and good night. Henry stripped removing his boxer briefs last. Y/N strutted towards her bedside dresser pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs. Dangling them in front of him, she grinned bashfully; “You’re going to sit your ass on that bed and I’m going to tie you up now. Got it?”

~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @thedeadhearted @giveusbackourbucky @henry-cavill-obsessed  @onlyhenrys @omgkatinka @thereisa8ella @threeminutesoflife @homewreckingwreck @gemini0410 @maan14@bluegalaxyprime @sofiebstar @whyyykitkat @encounterthepast  @readermia @ly-canthropewrites @scorpionchild81 @henrythickcavill @snowbellexx @stephartrave @agniavateira  @cap-barnes​ @henryfanfics101  @mary-ann84 @westcoast-nightowl @poledancingdinos​  @justaboringadult @peakygroupie  @nalathefirefly​ @vikingsbifrost​ @bloodyinspiredfuck​ @moderapoppins​ @cooldiva1234​ @icedcoffeeismythang​ @titty-teetee​ @summersong69​ @kaatelyyynn​ @missursulacalmet​ @michelehansel​ @iloveyouyen​ @shyshu​ @star017​ @raynosaurus-rex @radkesgirl83​ @starrynite7114​  @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ @i-love-scott-mccall​  @darkbooksarwin​ @ellieseymour70​ @designerwriterchic​ @studywithrosie01​ @dangerouslovefanfic​ @lebguardians​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @hen-cavill​  @cavill-sass​ @oh-for-fic-sake​ @icedbottles​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @brexrif​ @gryffindorwriter​ @laketaj24​ @foxyjwls007​ @lawsofthejungle​ @henrycavillfanpage​ @kaboogie21​ @fangirl199812​ @gothicninibalor​ @qualitynightkoala​ @strictlybuckybarnes​ @toomanyfandomsshreya​@hersilencescreams-blog​ @viking-raider​ @sesamepancakes​  @madbaddic7ed​ @fuckoffbard​ @funfickgirl22​ @inlovewithhisblueeyes​ @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @hoeforhenry​ @henrycavills-babe​ @abschaffer2​ @loving-this​ @one-of-those-fanfiction-blogs​ @lovelycavills​

[parkersharthook]

Love For All

Peter Stark-Rogers & Stark-Rogers!reader (twins)

warnings: mentions of drinking/being drunk, pretty fluffy

1.8k+ words

series masterlist

a/n: happy pride month (lol I queued this in february just so I didn’t forget to post it) anyways im bi and pls know my page is a safe space for everyone 💗💜💙

Fluffy piece where Tony and Steve are chosen as the grand marshalls for the pride parade and it becomes a family affair.

“this just in, you all officially have the coolest dads in history!” Tony bellowed as he dramatically entered the common space, Steve right behind him with a plethora of eye rolls.

Right as you were about to protest, Bucky chimed in, “neither of you are my father.”

“with the way I’ve saved your sorry ass? Might as well be.”

“saved my sorry ass? Oh Stevie, have you forgotten who pulled your ass out of every back alley fight you got into? Or have the years 1932 to 1941.”

“I did not start a fight in 1932!” Steve argued back, hands placed firmly on his hips.

“bullshit! 5 years old, playground 2 blocks over, Arthur Williams.”

Steve frowned slightly, “damn I forgot about that.”

Beside you Peter snorted, “you got into a fight when you were 5?”

“Wow darling, you came out of the womb with righteous indignation didn’t you?” Tony added with a small smirk as he moved to rest against the back of the couch.

Steve threw his hands up in defeat, “oh haha laugh it up. Yes I’m old, yes I’m stubborn. Can we please just go back to how we’re cool?”

“Wait before that, back to the ‘not my fathers thing’ does this mean you see yourselves as the team fathers? Because if you’re adopting more people, I want in!” Clint said cheerfully.

“Sorry we capped out at four.”

You stuck your tongue out at Clint with a little ‘ha ha’ because you were mature like that. “anyways… why do you think you are the coolest dads? I wanna get my rebuttal in soon.”

Tony bopped the back of your head playfully as he dropped a very rainbow piece of paper into your lap. Peter instantly leaned into your space to read it. You pushed him back with a shove to the forehead. “relax nerd I’m gonna read it out loud.”

“hurry up I’m getting antsy.” You threw an unimpressed look at Clint who had practically crawled into Bucky’s lap to get closer, not that Bucky minded.

“Chill.” You smoothed out the paper and held it up, “All hail the next Grand Marshals of NYC Pride, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers. We are happy to formally announce the two superheroes and super husbands as our fearless leaders of the float parade this year.”

“That’s the public announcement they put out, turn it over to read the letter they sent us.”

“Dear Mr. Anthony and Steven Stark-Rogers, we are so excited to welcome you into our NYC Pride Parade family. As this year’s appointed Grand Marshals it is both our duty and pleasure to pass the Pride Baton over to you. Included in this letter you will find the rules and expectations of our Grand Marshals, as well as what is permitted for first floats. We would love if you extended this invitation to your entire circle of family and friends to join you in the parade and on your float.”

You put the paper down and tilted your head back to stare at your dad, “you? Grand Marshal? Really?”

“What’s so shocking about that?”

“umm…. You’re old and not cool.”

Bucky sputtered a laugh beside you as Tony bopped you on the head again.

“Was this your way of telling us to come to pride with you?” Peter asked.

Steve shook his head as he flopped into a nearby loveseat, “actually this was our way of telling you that we need your help coming up with ideas for the float and how to decorate it. But of course we want you to join us on the float, we’ll be inviting the rest of the team as well.”

“I’ll help decorate but Bi-derman is making another appearance this year.”

Tony slapped his forehead, “can you take your old suit at least? The paint was a bitch to get off last time.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “the old suit chafes.”

You grimaced, “I hate this conversation.”

“I think you should do a dog themed float, Lucky can be our mascot.”

Bucky sighed, “of course that’s your suggestion.”

“what about the history of pride? Recognizing the Stonewall Riots and the two black transgender females that started it all. Plus then we can also advocate for Black Lives Matter. Make it clear that to support one, you have to support the other. Educate and entertain.”

Tony smiled, “that’s not a bad idea y/n.”

Steve looked at you with hopeful eyes, “are you willing to help organize and coordinate?”

“can I invite friends to help?”

“yes.”

You smiled, “then yes.”

------

“when I said organize and coordinate, I didn’t mean take over the conference room we use regularly for avengers meetings.” Steve said with a deep sigh

“it’s the only one with a vending machine.” MJ helpfully pointed out, taking another large bite of her pizza slice.

“yeah it was the only way to get Clint to sit through meetings without leaving to get food.” Steve explained as he stepped into the room and took in the large array of papers everywhere. The four teenage girls that occupied the room were all busy with one thing or another, looking intense and determined.

MJ snorted, “figures.” Her hand ghosted over the page again, dragging the pencil with it and creating another addition to her sketch.

Steve’s brow furrowed for a moment and he took a step closer to get a better look, “is that me?”

MJ nodded coolly but offered no other explanation. Betty huffed a laugh, “we’re trying to design both you and Mr. Stark crown-like head pieces.”

“crowns?”

You rolled your eyes, “Pops, you really do only hear what you wanna hear. Crown-like head pieces. I know dad would go for a full ass crown but I knew you wouldn’t and we want you two to match.”

Steve studied the photos of celebrities that were projected on the wall. “and that?”

“The 2018 Met Gala. Theme: heavenly bodies. There were a bunch of great head pieces that night, we’re using it for inspiration.” Gwen supplied, “let us know if there’s any you like.”

“I wanna go in a Cardi B direction.” You stated without taking your eyes off your computer screen, you’ve obviously already committed every possible headpiece to memory.

“don’t taint his selection with bias!” Betty cried

MJ waved her off easily, “there’s no way he knows who Cardi B is.”

“thanks for the confidence MJ.” She just smiled cheekily at him.

“I think he should choose something like what Frances McDormand was wearing.” Gwen stated with a small smile

MJ laughed, “as much as I think that would look amazing, there’s no way he’s picking that.”

“who’s this?”

You barely had to glance at the photo to recognize the red and gold dress and of course the iconic headpiece, “Black Lively.”

“Okay well I like that, it’s simple.”

“what about…” Gwen drawled as she typed something and new photo, a larger one, took over the whole wall, “Something like SZA’s?”

Steve took a step back and grimaced slightly, “it’s kinda… big.”

“But if it were smaller?” Gwen pressed politely

“I suppose.” Steve glanced around at the four girls. “You guys have a lot of stuff planned.”

“Oh yeah.” You looked up with a big grin, meeting your dad’s eye. “It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re not designing us costumes too are you?”

“Well Tony specifically said not too and that he already had something planned.” MJ said before eyeing Steve up and down with the critical eye of an artist, “But we could design something if you wanted us too.”

“No, I kinda of already have a plan too.”

You rose a questioning brow, “oh yeah? Please tell me you’re not going to be wearing something boring.”

Steve rolled his eyes at you and obnoxiously bumped his hip into your side as he walked out, “I’m not clueless on how to dress for Pride. Plus, I like dressing up for it, it’s fun. And it’s not something we got to do back then. I’m planning on taking full advantage.” And with that he walked out dramatically and closed the door.

Betty laughed slightly, “ten bucks that he paints the shield.”

Gwen shook his head, “No way. I think he’s gonna wear one of the flags as a cape.”

MJ clicked her tongue, “I know for a fact he’ll be wearing his ‘trans rights are human rights’ shirt.” Pause. “and probably his rainbow pants.”

You looked at MJ with a perplexed expression, “why do you know about my dad’s rainbow pants?”

MJ smirked slightly, “he wore them to pride a few years ago. Plus, me and peter talk about things. You’re not the only Stark-Rogers twin I hang out with.”

Gwen obnoxiously nudged Betty with her elbow and a large wink, “Oh yeah… she talks to Peter.” MJ scowled at the two as you snickered behind your hand.

MJ grumbled slightly, “let’s just get back to work.” It was silent in the room until the three other girls heard MJ mumble, “I never have to deal with this at college.”

You burst into a fit of laughter.

------

Pride was without a doubt a 100% success.

The float looked great. The area had already been swept for trouble. One Grand Marshal was moderately drunk. And Everyone was dancing and partying. Perfect.

Even the float attendees looked great. Clint was the brightest of the all. With no shirt on, glitter all over his chest, a rainbow tutu around his hips, tight purple booty shorts underneath, knee high socks with the pan pride flag on them, plus his signature purple converse… he looked good.

You’ve been snickering every time you catch Bucky not so subtlety looking Clint up and down. But that being said, Clint was doing the same to Bucky because he had someone managed to get the stoic and whiney super soldier into a rainbow button down. Nothing else, as that wasn’t Bucky’s jam. He paired the shirt with simple jeans but you were sure that he would be covered with glitter later.

Peter had been swinging around the parade, his first Stark suit now painted a vibrant pink, purple, and blue. Plus there was a large, messily painted on heart over where the spider sat in the middle of his chest.

You and all your friends had taken up the dance floor on the float, and if you said so yourself, you all were killing the dance moves.

Tony was more than tipsy because Bruce was on babysitting duty tonight for Morgan, so he let himself go and lean heavily against his husband, who just grinned at him all lovingly.

In the end, it was a good day. You threw beads and candy to the crowd, joining them at times for drinks and dance parties. You laughed endlessly with your friends and your family. And yeah… it was a good day.

Plus, all your friends had been correct.

Steve wore his trans shirt in solidarity with the ongoing movements and the float.

He wore his rainbow pants because they were “super fashionable y/n” and to support everyone.

He painted his shield purple, blue, and pink to show off his own sexuality and support Peter.

And he had a pansexual flag tied around his neck to match with Tony’s pink, yellow, and blue shirt.

He looked great.

[goldafterglow]

embellished lungs

Summary: Ezra buys a pretty thing for a pretty thing.

Request: hc about what renders Ezra speechless 😶 - @lose-eels (this is not even what you asked for but fuckin here ig im sorry sgkfjdshg)

Pairing: Ezra x reader

Word Count: 2.6k+

Warnings: a big fat drabble?, very really soft, not beta read and tbh barely even normal read i read this maybe twice oops

Author’s Note: i almost put this just like under the ask but I’m not gonna sit here and act like this is a drabble bc i’m a clown. i don’t want to talk about it. and spitting this out bc I was soft for Ezra and @mrpascals made me

Gif Cred: my wife and my baby @pascalplease

masterlist | taglist modifications

He spies it in the open market while he’s stocking up on supplies.

The day is hot, the Sun bearing down on its disciples with a violent red fury, but it’s light is strong, bright. Everything is reflective, hot to the touch from boiling in the heat, and all of the creatures begin to melt together like dyed wax to form one big discernable blob, if you really squint. Ezra’s sweat escapes the barrier of his brows and leaks past his lashes, dragging across his eyes and stinging a little, blurring his vision and dripping onto his arms, but he doesn’t care. He’s far too exhilarated.

The market in itself is absolutely brilliant to him; he’s always been enthralled by this, by people and pretty things, and to be completely surrounded by both felt like something akin to sensory overload. His heart is racing at the sight of people traversing the dirt road, loitering and browsing through produce colored so vibrantly he wonders if the bright red apples and deep indigo berries have been dipped in the tinted glow of fairies that dance in the forest. And he’s utterly taken by the art and trinkets. He’s always had a little soft spot for art - a tender, exposed section of his beating flesh that is so sensitive, so delicate and so easy to provoke. And right now, he seems like he’s subject to a battering ram, pounding against his chest in the best way possible.

His eyes dart around quickly as he tries his best to take everything in. He finds himself cherishing every little interaction, every stranger whose shoulder he is forced to brush in an attempt to make his way through the market, every vendor that begs to him, calls to him to try “just one last berry sir. I’m sure your lover will be delighted by the raspberries from yesterday’s harvest.” He ended up buying a quaint six ounces just so that he could feed them to you. But that would be a treat for later.

And just like that, he is thinking of you. The prettiest, most beautiful thing. A sculpture with imperfections so perfect that he knows it must have taken eons to craft you out of gold and diamonds and the soft fluff of hummingbird feathers and butterfly wings. You are art, a walking, breathing, touchable piece that he gets to admire up close. It’s a privilege, really, to have been gifted with Kevva’s finest handiwork.

As his pupils peruse the stands, admiring his surroundings, they suddenly become frozen in place, permanently stuck on a little trinket that’s caught his attention: a necklace. The gem sitting in the center isn’t aurelac; it’s much more vibrant, much more dramatic and almost rainbow when he looks at it from different angles. The chain isn’t long, and knowing you the gem would fall right between your collarbones. He can already envision you wearing it, like a child flicking watercolors onto the Venus de Milo, but he wants to see his deep green paint draped around your shoulders. The way he sees it when you wear his clothing, when you’re adorned with bruises of his passion like stars adorn the sky, when you wear him. It’s intoxicating, seeing that he’s had any impact on your life and that you parade it around like a trophy. That you think about him without him prompting you to do so - not that he isn’t constantly in your presence. But he wants to buy it just so that he can see you wear it. Perhaps even only wear it.

He’s already thinking about how fucking gorgeous you would look in it. He is thinking about putting it on you, tugging on it ever so lightly in a way that signals to you - that is, rather than exerting any true force on you - that he wants a kiss. Perhaps pulling on it a little harder so that metal bites your skin and you can feel it, feel him digging into the soft flesh of your neck. Now he’s imagined a thousand scenarios in which he can have his way with you just by getting you to wear this piece, and he has to purchase it.

When the vendor finally hands it to him, packaged with care and placed deep into the hollow of a black velvet box, he finds that it barely fits in his pocket. He doesn’t care, though, because it’s too exquisite an accessory to be thrown in with the other supplies and it’s too precious for him to take it out of the box. He’s excited when he comes back to the pod, back home where you are.

Home is you.

He assumes you must’ve heard him come in, the pod door loud and rambunctious as he dumps the bags into the center of the pod space and then crawls in himself - it was hard enough with two arms, nonetheless one. He lets out a sight as if to let the excitement drain out his vessels and into the atmosphere of the cockpit, mingling with the peace and solitude to create a soft buzz that zings through his ears and vibrates his eyes. The exhilaration from being the market was utterly electric, but he is home now. He can crawl into you, let you absorb into him, and he likes how you can make his heart race a million miles and yet also pacify him, a cold compress to his aching soul to help reduce inflammation. He wants to maintain that semblance of the intricate pastel harmony, adorned in lilac and peach hues. So he stands in the middle of the cockpit and closes his eyes, lets himself sway to the rhythm of his lungs for a moment. Just a fraction of solitude, and he doesn’t mind because ever since he met you he has never felt lonely, not even when he’s alone. He always feels you with him.

Once his head has cleared, he palms at his pocket where the little black box still resides, as if to check that he hadn’t dreamt up some fantasy ornament that would look so perfect on you. It’s still there; of course it is, and he feels foolish for thinking that the pretty butterflies would have fluttered it out and flown it away, but sometimes he wonders if the same thing will ever happen to you. If one morning he will wake up and you will have migrated with the birdies, off to seek true warmth because you’re not real, because nothing so good as you could ever be caged by him.

He steps into your shared bedroom and spies you with your back to the entrance. The room is cool, but you’ve elected to wear his shirt, even foregoing pants. His favorite outfit of yours, and he knows you know it. You’re wearing headphones, something he’d picked up for you on your last supply run, and he can tell you’re playing one of those instrumental stations you so adore listening to when you were working. A mutely-colored map is stretched out onto the desk, and he’s not even sure you can focus the music because your mind is moving faster than your poor hand can keep up as you mark up a new dig site. He almost feels bad for interrupting you while you’re in such deep concentration, your forehead smashed into wrinkles without even noticing, but Ezra cannot resist his greed for your attention. Ever so gently, he places his hand on your shoulder from behind so as not to startle you.

You almost immediately register the delicate touch, turning the radio off and pulling your headphones off your ears so you can give this kind artist your undivided attention - Kevva herself knows he's earned it. You turn your head to face him, craning your neck back so you can take his softly smiling depiction like pressing a plush blanket into your face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you coo, letting your pen fall tumultuously from your hand. The sound of it clanging against the table and then rolling around to a stop fills the room, but you can’t hear it; Ezra is talking now.

“Hey, sweet stardust,” he greets back, voice orange and warm like the heat that simmers under the stars during the summer at midnight.

Comfortable.

 “Hey” was never his preferred salutation, and he’d tried to omit it from his vocabulary for so long, but he started to notice that he likes it when you say to him. Like a little pearl of your voice, so sweet like honey with the honeycomb still mixed in, a little grainy and so cheeky.

“Did you get everything we need?” you ask, beginning to stand to that you can press a hand to his chest, grounding him to the pod and to your sanctuary soul. Ezra grins wide, unable to hide his excitement at your words.

“I in fact exceeded our needs, sweet rose bud,” he says with a pride that fills up your chest and makes you want to hold him tight because you love when he gets giddy like this, with the childlike enthusiasm of showing your parents the shitty drawing you made or your ugly macaroni art. Ezra is light, his tone airy. “I happened to spot a gem that reminded me of your vision and I couldn’t resist the urge to get it.”

You brow furrows a little, not out of confusion but out of curiosity. Ezra’s taste has always inspired you, and you knew his never ending quest for art is always in an attempt to find beauty in everything. You don’t even have to look at it to know that it will be stunning because his stamp of “pretty” approval is your gold standard.

He pulls the box out and opens it facing you so that you can get a good look, really admire it, and you are already taken by the shimmering pendant.

“Oh Ezra, it's - it’s utterly magnificent,” you gush, and he can spot that little glimmer in your eyes that you get when you’re looking at something that you’re enamored with; they way you look when you’re gazing at him. You raise your chin to look at him, his cheeks rosy with delight and sweet eyes crinkled at the corners. “Put it on me.”

It’s not so much of a demand as it is a gentle instruction; you know he wants to, know he’s been thinking about it since he bought it, and you want to be open to him. You want to invite him into your heart, inside of the flower garden of your chest, with open arms because he deserves to feel wanted.

You help him pull the chain out of the bottom of the box, keeping one end in your right hand and letting him take the clasp in his left. He wills himself to move slowly, to savor every little stimulation you send through his skin as he steps behind you. His fingers press against your clavicle, tracing along the bone before traveling up over the valley of your shoulder, tips of his hands brushing against your throat. He is feeling you, mapping out your body because he’ll never get to see an angel in his life but he’s certain you must be the spitting image.

You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and intoxicating as a small film of dampness coats your exposed back and neck. Your right hand rests at the nape of your neck, waiting expectantly, but you don’t rush him. He takes his sweet, sugary time, because the surface of your skin feels like he’s running his fingers through a field of silicone needles, firm but harmless as they stimulate a sensation he never knew he could feel before he touched you for the first time. You’re addictive, the best high he’s ever gotten, and he almost lets his hand lose all abandon and travel so carefully down the front of your body, palming your breast along the way and pressing right into your diaphragm before he keeps going down, down, down…

Almost.

But he will save it for a later time, especially since he’d been fantasizing about you wearing the necklace like a carefully chiseled bust is adorned with sashes. So finally, after what feels like hours of roaming and teasing, you feel that calloused, worn sensation of your lover’s fingers seeking solace against yours. You pin your breath to your lungs, not daring to let it go as you wait for the heavy release of his hand indicating that the necklace is secure. But even once you feel it, even as you let your right hand fall down at your side, Ezra does not take his hand off of you. You don’t want him to.

Slowly, so that he never has to cease his touch, you turn to face him. You’re still looking down at the pendant, in awe of how the gem rests so perfectly between your collarbones. You can’t see Ezra’s adoring gaze, his completely awestruck fixation on how ethereal you are to him. Like you’re emitting a golden glow, too hot to touch and yet begging, inviting his fingers to feel and press and hold. 

Celestial.

He feels his emotions expand in his stomach, diaphragm threatening to spasm. His hand trails up to your chin, palming your jaw as he tenderly lifts your line of sight so that he can see your pretty eyes.

“You’re divine,” he mumbles to you, not wanting to disrupt the tight silence, so tense he’s afraid of speaking too loud lest it break and snap against his cheek leaving an angry raised brand.

Overwhelmed with appreciation, you balance your hands on his shoulders and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting it linger so you can savor the honeysuckle dew on his skin. “I love it,” you whisper with a grin.

Ezra giggles.

When you pull back to face him proper, his face is utterly red. His smile reaches the lobes of his ears, bashful and boyish like his belly has just been tickled by the sweetest of baby chicks, and he can barely get a word out. He can’t speak. His mind is in overdrive, completely inundated with a blistering adoration for you and your approval because you said you loved it. His gift is not a splash of children’s watercolors; it is a clean swipe of gold running along your jaw, accenting your beauty and emphasizing just how exquisite you are to him.

“Yeah?” he managed, a soft giggle still passing his lips like the first cries of a baby deer, the first flutters of a newly hatched butterfly.

Adorable.

You can’t resist the urge to giggle back, placing a hand at the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a true kiss on his glittery lips. It only lasts seconds, however, because Ezra can’t stop smiling and you can’t stop giggling, so you both settle for the blissful solitude of pressing your foreheads against one another, breathing in each other's air and taking up the same space.

“It’s gorgeous, Ezra. Thank you,” you whisper lightly so that the wisps of air tickle his upper lip, and suddenly he is so inclined as to press his left arm into the small of your back so that you’re so much closer and kiss you the way you deserve; a dynamic series of long, deep, searing kisses that send you to the clouds and drop you into an endless pit of lavish fluff at the same time. You don’t know how he does this, makes you feel like you don’t exist and that there isn’t anything in the world but you and him, and you often wonder if it’s because Ezra is within you, or that your broken parts and his broken parts make some hauntingly majestic sculpture of its own; something better than the fucking Venus de Milo or Athena or Great Sphinx because it should be something so hideous and yet it feels to utterly priceless to you.

It’s precious.

ppl that asked to be tagged: @gustavos @catfishingmorales @keeper0fthestars @1zashreena1 @blancatobarxoxo @honeyedspace @chaotic-noceur @opheliaelysia @adikaofmandalore @din-damn-djarin @mrsparknuts @girlwithanewplan @mrschiltoncat @cryptkeepersoul @buckstaposition @the-feckless-wonder @cocoatales @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul

ppl that did not ask no ma’am no sir: @ergotautology @dindjarindiaries @pascalplease​

again, you can join/leave my taglist here :)

[hiddennerdworld]

Homesick (pt 3) with Katsuki Bakugou

Note: Hi! This is long I'm sorry fakldj;vnj. Also I didn't know how to end it. And I didn't proofread well. It's a mess, BUT a fluffy, cozy mess. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did :)

———————————————————————

It was Friday night and you were having a movie marathon with the Bakusquad. You had hoped it would take your mind off things, but once everyone had passed out on the couch, it was no help. You gently moved Mina's head and Kirishima's arm off of you and headed to the kitchen where you found Boom Boom Boi hanging by the counter. This didn’t really phase you because you were all friends. You were only super close to Kaminari and Mina, but you still knew the others well enough.

“Oi! What are you doing in here, idiot?” He asked looking up from his phone.

“Well hello to you too. I’m just grabbing some water. Why are you in here anyway? You’re supposed to be watching the movie with us, you know."

“Not that it’s any of your damn business but I got bored. I can’t believe you guys like to watch that shit. I don’t believe a lot of the stuff you guys do. I’m surprised you didn’t all parade in here like a bunch of dumbasses!”

You giggle to yourself as you join him at the counter with your glass of water. “They’re actually all asleep. It’s kinda hilarious if you look at it. They’re like spaghettied together.”

“And you’re not with them? I thought we wEre SuPpoSed to Be waTcHinG thE mOVie ToGeThER?” As usual, Kacchan took great pride in mocking you. He has the widest smug grin on his face. However, he noticed you weren’t firing back as much as you normally would. Even with the voice and stupid faces he made you still just stared at your glass.

“Eh I mean you’re right but I couldn’t sleep and the movie sucks if there isn’t constant commentary from Kaminari.”

“Don’t blame you. Shitty Hair’s snoring wakes me up half the time.”

“Nah it’s not that. I just-.... I don’t know. Nevermind.” You were getting all flustered and fidgety now.

“Well, something is on your mind because you’re being so fucking weird. Just spit it out!” He was now doing his usual seething while waiting.

“Okay fine! I-I just miss my family I guess. It’s stupid but that’s why I can’t relax or fall asleep. And it’s just gotten worse the longer we’ve been at the dorms.”

“You’re not stupid.” He mumbled and you short your head up to look at him. Did Lord Explosion Murder just say something not insulting? To you?

“Everyone misses home. Who wants to live at their fucking high school? Hell, I even miss my parents sometimes. My dad may be a wimp, but he fucking knows how to cook.”

“Mine too. He would make my family pancakes for breakfast every weekend.” You sighed and looked back down. You guys sat in silence for a while. Bakugou had no clue what to do. All of a sudden he sighed and grabbed your wrist. “Come on, loser. It’s late we’re going to bed.”

Now you had no clue what to do. What the hell was he doing? “Uh no that’s okay Bakugou! You go ahead I’ll stay here and keep an eye on them.” You said trying to resist but he just kept dragging you along.

“They’re fine. Probably won’t even be up until noon tomorrow. So let’s go!” He kept dragging you along and you finally ended up at your door. Luckily it wasn’t locked so he just swung it open and threw you in bed. He pointed a finger at you and said “stay there” and stomped out. And you listened, waiting to see what he was up to. A few minutes later he returned with a blanket and pillow and flopped then on the floor and slammed the door shut.

“What are y-“ you start to speak but are interrupted.

“I’m staying in here so you’ll go to sleep and get out of your sappy mood and I don’t have to listen to your bullshit tomorrow. Now goodnight.” He started to get set up on the floor. Of course, in a very aggressive manner, grumbling the whole time.

“Well if that’s the plan we can share the bed if you want. There’s plenty of room.” You said quietly, not wanting to look at him while saying it.

“Pch- fine if that’ll get you to sleep faster.” With that, he threw his stuff on the floor and crawled into bed next to you. Once he got under the blanket you could feel a wave of heat. This mans is a fucking furnace. He flipped with his back towards you and pulled on the blanket.

You faced away from him too and said “Thank you. Goodnight Bakugou.” You were smiling to yourself. “Yeah, whatever.”

Almost falling asleep a few times but waking yourself back up, you still couldn’t sleep. You knew Katsuki was out tho because of his soft snoring. Still trying your best you moved around to get more comfortable. This led to Bakugou putting his arm on you. You froze and your eyes widened. Was he doing this on purpose? Did you wake him up? Why isn’t he yell- Your panic was stopped by the boy continuing to snore. Phew, at least you didn’t have to worry about that. Continuing to try to get comfortable, you tried to nuzzle closer to him and he pulled you close. You soon fell asleep with a little smile on your face.

———————————————————————

The next morning you woke up with the sun shining in your eyes. You expected to wake up just as you fell asleep, in Bakugou’s arms. Oh, you were ready to give him so much shit about it. But you soon felt the lack of warmth from your side and flipped over to realize the boy and his stuff was gone. You shrugged. Of course he was already up. That boy rises with the sun. So with not being able to tease Kacchan, you got ready to see if the others were up yet.

As soon as you walked out of your dorm you found Kaminari.

“Hey! There you are Y/N!” He ran up and gave you a hug. “Where’d you run off to last night?”

After being so kind to you, you decided the least you could do is keep your mouth shut about what happened with Bakugou. “Oh, I just went to bed after you all fell asleep. Too many times where I almost got kicked in the face. Plus, Kiri snores sound like a construction site.”

He chuckled at that last bit. “That’s true, but you get used to it after a while. Well, we all missed you. Wanna hang with us in a bit? We can sneak some of the food Bakubro is making.”

“Oh yea, for sure! See you later, Kami.” You both did finger guns as you walked away. After you turned the corner, you turned around and kept walking. Kacchan was cooking? Usually he’d be out training by now? You quirked up your brow and kept going, curious to see the goodies that were being made. As you got closer and closer, the sweet scent of whatever was being cooked got stronger. Now super hungry, you skipped into the kitchen. There you found the spiky blonde wearing an apron and flipping pancakes. Your heart swelled with happiness. You stood frozen but your smiled radiated warmth. He was doing something nice? For someone else? For you??! You ran up and gave him a hug. A blush quickly rose to his cheeks.

“Oi! What the hell are you doing dumbass?!” He lifted his arms and looked down at you holding his waist and resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re making pancakes?! I can’t believe you remembered, Bakugou!” You gave him a squeeze.

“This isn’t because of all that shit you said last night! Listen, I’m making these because you put the idea in my head and I needed to make them! I’m making these because I want to! For me! Got it?!”

You let go and gave him a grin, “Well then why are you making so many?”

“THAT’S JUST HOW MANY THE RECIPE MAKES!!! You can have some if you shut up about it!”

“Yes, sir!” You said giving him a fake salute. Then you skipped away, running into Kaminari who was heading into the kitchen.

“Nice! You’re making pancakes, Bakubro?!” He tried picking one up from the finished pile and Bakugou slapped him away.

“GO GET YOUR OWN DAMN FOOD, SPARKY!!!”

“You’re really telling me you’re gonna eat all of these? Yea, right.” He said while trying again to get a pancake which ended the same way as it did before.

After slapping him away again Bakugou looked up and gave him a nasty glare. “I said they aren’t for you.”

Kaminari then backed away with his hands up. “Okay, sheesh. I get it. Pancakes are good man, no judgment here.”

Then after a little while, Bakugou came into the dining area with two plates. He sat across from you and placed the plates on the table. A big smile grew across your face. “Yay! I’m excited to try them.” You take a bite, “Mmmmmm! These are so good!”

“Tch- I know. Spent so much time on ‘em they better be fuckin good.”

You guys ate together, barely talking but that was alright. Bakugou kept looking up every so often when you weren’t looking to make sure you liked them. His ego doubled after seeing you so happy. Soon, you finished your amazing breakfast. So you got up and walked to the other side of the table. “Thanks again.” You said softly. Then you bent down and gave him another hug and a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m gonna go finish getting ready for the day.”You grabbed your plate and rushed back towards the kitchen with a blushing, smiling face.

Bakugou was broken for a sec. Poor boy didn’t know how to react. He just grumbled under his breath, trying to sound angry to hide the fact he was smiling and his face was bright red. At least he got you out of your shitty mood. That was the goal, right? (Soon after he told you that he may like you more than most people. Dude can’t hide what he’s feeling, so he just spits it out. You gave him lots of more hugs and kisses after that.)

———————————————————————

BONUS!

Kaminari yelled to Bakugou from across the room. “Hey Bakubro! You have any food left from your date with Y/N??!!”

“I’LL KILL YOU!!!”

Kaminari heard sparks and ran for his life.

[unioncolours]

Yamanaka Week Day 6: Fanfiction 💗🌺

@yamanaka-week Day 6, prompt: espionage

Fanfiction: The best spy there ever was.

Length: 1,5k

Genre: Fluff and cute

⚔ My AO3 username is Majsasaurus  

Read below ⬇💜

The best spy there ever was

Shikadai crossed his arms over his stomach and stared at Inojin with an grimace of irritation smacked on his face.

“You are stupid”, he said, face scrunching together in a way he only did when he was turning more and more angry.

Inojin stared back at him with a little wrinkle between his brows.

“No, I’m not”, he retorted. “You are just scared we’ll get caught.”

The two boys were crouching behind the corner of the house of the Yamanaka residence. They were at the backside of the house, in the protection among shadows and bushes, the part of the garden Ino referred as ‘the hopeless part’. The hopeless part of the garden was filled with nettles and weed, ready to be ripped out of the soil, but neither Ino nor Sai had had time for gardening that part of their garden. They liked to put their focus on the front yard, on the rose bushes and myriad of colourful flowers that needed their care and attention, instead of the weed and shadowy part.

It was the perfect hiding place for two six-year-old spies.

Or ‘spies’. This title was exactly the root of the disagreement between the boys.

“Your Mom is a psychic ninja”, Shikadai said, intending to serve waterproof arguments. “She will catch us immediately. And it’s not fun to play if we can’t win.”

Inojin puffed out his cheeks.

“You are the worst spy I’ve ever seen”, he said, poking a needle in Shikadai’s ego. “And you fail as a shinobi. Shinobi do not give up.”

“I don’t fail”, Shikadai said.

“Then prove it”, Inojin shot back and the wrinkle between his eyebrows had grew in size, because now he was irritated at his friend for not sharing his ambitious plan. Who cared if ‘Mom was a psychic ninja’, when he was the best spy there ever was and could well sneak up behind her?

“Okay”, Shikadai said, took a step forward and a stringy leaf of a nettle stroked by his exposed calf. He winced at the sudden pain and seemed to grow more insecure at the reminder he was not as big and powerful as he maybe wanted to think. “But only up until nap time, okay? I’m tired.”

Inojin smiled at him, knowing that ‘I’m tired’ was Shikadai’s way of saying he was unsure what to do.

“Follow me”, Inojin said, bent down on all four, and began crawling around the corner, towards the front part of the garden. The unaware parents, who were having a nice time taking care of the flowers, were blissfully unaware two dangerous spies made their way towards them.

  -

 Sai and Ino had just finished plucking away the bad leaves and dried out branches of some of their parade bushes by the road, the first thing visitors see when they curve down the road past the flower shop and see the house the family lived in. These bushes had beautiful roses; blue to their colour, Ino’s pride after cultivating generations of bushes, slowly getting the petals into a beautiful blue shade from the white she had started from.

Sai meant the colour is the same as Ino’s eyes, Ino claimed they are more like Inojin’s eyes, which are a shade greener than her own.

They looked over their craft, fingers a bit sore after thorns had penetrated through the gardening gloves and poked their skins, but they felt satisfied by the result.

And they were not deaf either. Inojin was still unaware to which degree his voice could rise when he was in a disagreement, and disagreements with Shikadai were never settled with low voices.

The two spies made their way over cobble stone placed into grass, through bushes and heaps of flowers and a around a little man-made pond. Ino’s mother had made that pond together with Inoichi years and years back. Inojin liked to complain over the lack of koi fish in the pond, but Ino took his complaints with grain of salt, since Inojin wasn’t just appreciating the frogs which lived there.

“Let’s go behind this bush”, Inojin suggested and pointed towards the bush closest to his parents.

“No way!” Shikadai disagreed, mouth in frown. “We need to attack from multiple different angles.”

“But we are only two”, Inojin said and shoved two fingers close to Shikadai’s face. “We strike were we are strongest – together!”

“We would need Chocho, that’s when we are strongest”, Shikadai complained, thinking about the gymnastics they were training together. Since they were still so small and largely were unable to exploit chakra, they practised gymnastics to better their skills in motoric, coordination and strength. But Inojin wasn’t listening to his whining today and grabbed Shikadai’s arm, manhandling him closer to the bush of Inojin’s choice.

“No”, Inojin said. “We are strong on our own. Let’s find out what they are talking about.”

Sai turned to look at Ino when the boys came closer.

“What are we going to talk about?”

Ino smirked.

“Let’s talk about the medicine we are going to give Inojin.” There was no medicine in question. Ino was just going to tease her son. They were well aware of where the boys were, and they were not particularly had to spot either. Shikadai’s fluffy, black ponytail was sticking up above the top part of the bush – he had to be sitting on his knees, while Inojin’s feet were visible from the side, probably sitting on his bum, leaning against one of his hands.

“Let’s spy on them”, Inojin said again and the boys fell silent, listening eagerly.

“Well, Sai”, Ino said loudly, almost as in overacting. “When Inojin is done playing with Shikadai we’ll give him his medicine.”

Sai stared at Ino, eyes begging her to please do not make me play in an act, I don’t know how and Ino took his hand.

“He was coughing this morning, wasn’t he?” Ino asked. “Then it’s best to give him his cough medicine, you know, the one that tastes really bad.”

Inojin stared at Shikadai, who stared back in mutual mortification. Medicine time. The worst nightmare of a six-year-old.

“Oh no”, Shikadai whispered.

“I don’t wanna”, Inojin whined back.

“Let’s not give away our position”, Shikadai said when Inojin raised his voice.

“But I don’t wanna take medicine, it was a single cough because I got dust in my nose”, Inojin said.

“That was a sneeze.”

“You don’t understand!” Inojin yelled back. “They’ll give me medicine!”

Ino and Sai stood on the other side of the bush, snickering a bit to their son’s panic. He had grown up sheltered in cotton, protected from the dangers of the outer world, their little sunshine boy, so a once in a while scare would only do him good.

“Inojin”, Ino finally said. “I know you are there. You can come out. We won’t give you medicine. Mommy and Daddy were just teasing you.”

Inojin sprang to his feet and stumbled around the bush into his mother’s arms.

“Moo-o-om”, he whined against her stomach as his big crocodile tears fell down his cheek. “I don’t wanna take medicine.”

“Oh, by little boy, you don’t have to, Mommy just teased you”, Ino said. “We heard you were a spy, so we gave you a little lead to listen to.”

“And we were the worst spies ever!” Shikadai added, peeking out from the bush. “Next time we need to do my tactic.”

“You always want us to do your tactic”, Inojin muttered against Ino’s hip.

Ino smiled to him.

“Come on, little one”, she said. “It’s okay, you don’t have to take medicine.”

“It was dusty”, Inojin pouted. “I coughed because it was dusty.”

Ino looked over at Sai.

“Sounds like a good reason to vacuum, doesn’t it, darling?” she asked and raised her eyebrows in a meaningful way. “Right?”

“Yes, yes”, Sai said in defeat. “Inojin, go back and play now. You were a fantastic spy. Soon enough you can be a shinobi too, and then you’ll be the best spy there ever is.”

Inojin looked at him with big, blue eyes.

“Really?”

“Really”, Sai said. “I am sure you will surpass us both when you are big and strong.”

Inojin almost blushed.

Ino and Sai went back inside, to vacuum clean and to begin prepping for lunch. Shikadai was going to stay at theirs for the whole evening, so they had a second child to entertain for the evening. Entertaining Shikadai was never an issue, so they didn’t fret and happily left the two boys in the garden.

“They were fooling us”, Shikadai said.

“I know”, Inojin said. His tears from the abrupt emotional tantrum at the fear of getting medicine had tried in an instant, just as the tantrum had faded away. “What should we do now?”

Shikadai mulled for a while.

“Continue spying?”

“Yes!”

The two boys hurried inside, not having learned their mistakes.

There was a dinner to supervise and parents to stalk. And who knew, maybe they would get to learn actual secrets this time?

Little did they know of the future far off beyond the horizon, when they would spy in dangerous temples, when they would slay enemies and lose faith in the world as chaos and war would reign around them. Little did they know.

And now, there was no time to think of such times.

Now they were the greatest spies there ever were.

[rocorambles]

Lifetime of Love

Pairing: Suga x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Overstimulation, Mythology AU, Demi-God!Suga

Prompt: Mythology

Summary: As the son of Aphrodite, Suga knows more than most when it comes to beauty and love. But knowledge and experience are two very different things. OR Suga finds true love.

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora

Being the son of Aphrodite has its perks. Even as just a demi-god, Suga is borderline ethereal, naturally drawing men and women to him with his dazzling silver hair, enthralling hazel-brown eyes, and coquettish charm. It’s effortless, the way he wakes up looking just as radiant as ever, the way his hair is naturally shaped and styled even after tossing and turning in bed. Clothing is just a technicality, just fabric he wears to not risk indecent exposure. Why waste time and effort thinking of putting an outfit together when he could wear a burlap sack and still have admirers flock to him?

It’s not a bad life and he knows others stare at him with envy, wondering what it’s like to be so beautiful, so loved, so wanted, so desired. Never an off day. Never a hair out of place. And truth be told, maybe more of his mother runs in him than he likes to admit, if the swell of pride and satisfaction he gets from having everything in life handed to him on a silver platter is anything to go by.

Life is easier for beautiful people. It’s a hard pill to swallow for the masses, but a reality that Suga has no qualms taking advantage of. After all, he might as well get some benefit from being a goddess's son, even if his mother and him don’t always see eye to eye.

Suga can appreciate beauty and love. Aphrodite has taught him to have an eye for the finer things in life. He’s not stubborn enough to deny that he enjoys waking up entangled in silk and satin sheets, surrounded by a beautifully decorated apartment, to reject the ecstasy he feels when he has one or more playmates in his bed.

But love of the flesh is different than love of the heart, and he wonders, despite how blasphemous it is to question a deity, if his mother truly understands what love is.

Aphrodite’s love is a seemingly fleeting and fickle thing, a fire that blazes bright and strong, only to burn out just as quickly as it had risen. And he judgmentally watches as she bounces from man to God to man to God again and again, grimacing whenever he meets his “family”, knowing how she’s slept with most of the other gods in Olympus.

He has no doubt that in her own way, she truly has loved each entity she’s slept with. But he wants something different, something less promiscuous, something less shallow. He wants true love, a love rooted in something much deeper than superficial appearances, a love rooted in a connection of souls, a love rooted in the bond of two people truly seeing and knowing each other’s flaws and strengths, yet still determinedly pursuing each other.

So he steadfastly continues on, searching for the one.

There’s no end to the line of people who practically throw themselves at his feet, desperate for a chance to catch his attention. He goes on endless dates, entering and leaving countless relationships. Some attempts are longer than others. Some partners have hope churning inside of him, have hazel-brown eyes sparkling in interest. But in the end, they’re all the same and the flutters of his heart become anchors of disgust inside of him when he sees their leering eyes, the lust driving their actions, the way they never see past his handsome face and attractive body.

No one sees Sugawara Koushi. They only see the body of a man literally blessed by the gods.

Maybe it was naive of him to believe that he knew more about love than the goddess of love herself. Maybe sleeping around with other attractive bodies is all his life will amount to, can amount to. And as he watches the people around him break-up, divorce, chase after some happy ending that seems more and more unattainable, he gives up his rose-colored dream of a fairytale romance.

But life has a funny way of dropping something in your lap just when you’ve given up all hope.

Aphrodite had not been amused when Suga had told her he was going to be a teacher at a local elementary school in the countryside. Children and parental instincts have never been her forte, and he remembers the long winding back and forths they had as she implored for him to rethink his decisions, flaunting modeling and acting opportunities in his face, anything to have his handsome face plastered on televisions and magazines.

But he had remained steadfast in his decision and she had finally relented, shaking her head and letting him know that she’d be ready to help him when he’s done wasting his gifts and time.

“You’re only part-god, Koushi. Your beauty will only last so long.”

He knows there’s no malice behind the words. It’s just a cold hard fact, a reminder. And he simply nods in response, secretly wondering if that would be so bad, letting age take its toll and put him on the same playing field as the rest of the world.

But he has years before he crosses that bridge and he dedicates himself to finding fulfillment in life by caring for and teaching the children in his class. A megawatt smile spreads across his face as he watch them play and excitedly call his name, politely ignoring his fellow teachers who parade themselves in front of him for an ounce of his attention, never entertaining the married mothers of his students who try to lavish him with unnecessarily exuberant gifts and woo him with fluttering lashes.

It’s a tiring never-ending dance, so when he hears about the arrival of a new female colleague, he internally sighs, no doubt in his mind that you’ll be just like the rest. So imagine his surprise when you just casually smile at him when you’re introduced, no interest in your eyes, no lingering gaze, before turning your attention away from him without a second glance back.

He wonders if it’s a fluke, hopes and prays that it isn’t. It’s almost comical, complete insanity, how his heart races, his eyes blow wide, just from your sheer nonchalance. And for the first time, it’s Suga who’s left wistfully staring as his eyes trail after your figure even long after you’ve turned the corner of the hallway.

He’s seen his mother’s work, seen the way humans pursue their love interests with almost fanatical effort. But he had never understood, not until now.

It’s an intoxicating feeling, addictive, the thrill of the chase energizing him in a way he’s never felt before. It’s hard, meticulous work finding reasons to visit your classroom, finding ways to weave himself in conversations you’re a part of. But it’s always worth it when he sees the genuine fondness in your eyes, the way you look and really see him, the way you care about the man underneath the shiny facade, in a way no one ever has before.

And when the two of you go out for a friendly lunch one day, when you order his favorite dish that he’s only briefly mentioned to you once in passing, without even missing a beat, his heart stops. It’s something no other partner has bothered even taking note of, too busy trying to impress him with high-end meals and fine dining. And just like that, he blurts out his confession, heart hammering, fingers nervously twitching as he awaits your response.

For many years to come, the two of you will debate whether or not that lunch counts as your official first date as a couple.

Dating you is everything he’s dreamed of and more. And for once, Suga feels like just another regular man, a normal human being as he holds your hand in his, giggling and sharing stories, feeding each other bites of food, lazing around on his sofa watching TV.

But as a romance movie runs in the background and the main couple kisses after the male lead raves about how stunning his lover is, he turns his attention to you, curiosity nagging at him, a tiny tendril of lingering fear squirming inside of him.

“What do you like about me?”

There’s silence as you owlishly blink and look up at him, surprise and confusion flitting across your face as you try and process where this question is coming from. But when you see the worry, doubt, and insecurity muddling your boyfriend’s eyes, you interlace your fingers with his and cuddle into his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you continue gazing at him.

“I like the way you always insist on getting the highest spice level at every Chinese restaurant we go to that serves mapo tofu, even though you complain about your mouth burning all night long afterwards.”

Suga chuckles, unable to deny the truth of those words.

“I like the way you act like a clueless angel even when you’re wreaking havoc and chaos, you big trouble maker.”

This time Suga does try to plead innocence, although all he can do is sheepishly grin when you start listing off event after event of mischief he had instigated and encouraged, much to Daichi’s and Asahi’s dismay.

“I like how patient and gentle you are with your students and your old underclassmen. I like the way you nurture them, mentor them, encourage them to keep on going, keep on trying even when the going gets tough. And I like how you instill that belief in your own life. If we have children of our own one day, I know you’ll be the father I’ve always wanted for my future kids.”

The weight of your last sentence hangs heavy in the air, the meaning, the hope of a lifetime promise has Suga’s jaw dropping. But when you shyly look away, nervously biting your lip as he just dumbly stares at you, he jolts back to reality and you yelp as lips suddenly crash against yours.

Sex with Suga is always sweet, with a hint of spice when your lover is feeling particularly mischievous. But it’s never been like this, full of desperation, untamed desire, a want so deep that it leaves both your minds in a hazy disarray. You gasp as you’re firmly pushed down, until your back hits the couch and you’re moaning into the mouth pressed against yours, your tongues tangling with each other in an attempt to taste every crevice.

The wet sounds of your lips connecting and disconnecting over and over again, the frantic sounds of fabric being rustled and tossed off, they all mix in a passionate symphony punctuated by breathy declarations of love, by whimpered names.

You throw your head back as a hot wet mouth sensually carves a path down the column of your neck, to the delicate swoop of your collarbone, sighing in bliss as they end in the valley of your breasts, two hands gently tweaking and rolling your nipples. And then fingers are replaced with a tongue, with lips, and your back arches, body writhing, seeking more, more, more as you wildly grind against your lover’s body.

Usually Suga likes to take his time with you, unwrap you piece by piece, unravel the strings that tie you together, coax the prettiest sounds out of you. But today something more carnal, more desperate, more raw spurs him on, and he feels more beast than man as he devours you, plunders you, marks you as his for all eternity.

“Koushi!”

You wail as he wastes no time in quickly snapping his hips, filling your slick walls with his cock. There’s an urgency behind his pace you’ve never felt before and you dig your nails into his shoulders, eyes rolling back in your head, lewd moans echoing in the room as you wrap one leg around his back, the other dangling off the couch.

You’re not sure exactly what the trigger had been for this, but you’re not complaining, pussy walls only clamping down even more when you see the feral hunger in his eyes, the drag of his cock against your insides even more pronounced.

He can feel your end approaching, sees it in the way your head tosses side to side, the way your eyes glaze over, and he brings a hand between your bodies, toying with your clit, circling it, rubbing it, never losing his rhythm as you begin to convulse, body thrashing, nails scratching his skin, a debauched version of his given name rolling of your tongue. Only when you begin to whimper, shaking hands trying to grasp his fingers still playing with your oversensitive nub does he relent, smiling down at you as you entwine your fingers with his as he continues to thrust in and out of you.

Suga’s been told he looks like an angel time and time again, but as he stares down at your completely ravaged and exhausted form, the way your chest heaves up and down, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the after tremors of your body, the duality of how you cling onto his hand despite your wanton state, he thinks you’re the true angel here. Maybe a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless and he can feel his balls tighten, the last shreds of his endurance ripping apart at the seams as he takes in your breathtaking appearance.

But he needs more than that, needs you, needs you here and with him, and he meets your lips in a bruising kiss, a silent demand for your attention, adjusting his hands until your fingers are interlocked on either side of your head.

“Look at me.”

He patiently waits, peppering your face with butterfly kisses, slowing down the rocking of his hips. You’re so tired, heavy eyelids wanting nothing more than to close, but you’re still in a rocky ocean of pleasure, body still registering and reacting to every touch, every move. And when his soft voice makes its way through the fog, you know you need to listen, you want to listen. So you turn your eyes until they lock with hazel-brown, a weak smile plastered across your face when you see the love and affection pouring down onto you.

“I love you.”

Both of you grin as the three words unanimously exit your mouths, but the smile is wiped off your face as he resumes his pace, tempo beginning to stutter, his own head being thrown back in ecstasy as he approaches his end. Your overstimulated body is barely hanging on by a thread, pathetic mewls dripping from your lips, and you keen when sticky spurts fill you, Suga’s cock buried balls deep inside of you as he breeds you, coating your quivering walls with his essence.

Suga gently lowers his body on yours, capturing your mouth in another kiss, one much gentler as both of you catch your breaths, bodies feeling soft and pliant as post-coital bliss wraps around you like a fluffy blanket.

Beauty is a fleeting thing. His mother’s not wrong about that.

But love? Love isn’t nearly as fickle as beauty, he thinks, as he holds you in his arms. And he smiles, letting himself be lulled to sleep by your rhythmic breathing, dreaming of the long and full life still ahead for both of you.

[itstittycitybaby]

From the Ashes We are Born (Part 3)

A/N: Finally caught up to my ao3 account! All the chapters on there have now been posted here. New chapters published on ao3 should follow here after a day or two, just depends on what I am doing. Unrelated, but am I the only one who finds this gif hot? Hgghhh something about V’s leather gloves just hit different. As always enjoy!

Summary: A few months have passed. You and V are holed up in the Shadow Gallery together. V realizes he is infatuated with you and you have ensnared him in your cunning grasp. (Basically this chapter is in V’s perspective and reflects on the times you’ve had.)

He disliked how afraid you were. V didn’t see you as weak or fragile, but he hated how nervous you were. Of him. No, he couldn’t blame you of course. After all, you were now stuck in the Shadow Gallery, a place you were very unfamiliar with (not to mention being stuck with a wanted criminal). Anytime V would try to make conversation with you, it would be struck down. He could sense the uneasiness in your voice and the fear in your eyes. Any loud bump or noise made you tense up and rapidly search for the disrupted silence. It reminded him of all those years ago of Larkhill. Every time V looked at you, he could see the old soul of himself. Angry, hurt, and scared. The V with terrible trauma from the aftermath of Larkhill (sure it was still hard for him to function some days, but vengeance was the therapy he had found).

V wasn’t particularly excited about a new person in his home. He had been alone for years in the cold and loneliness of his house. It took him a decade to spruce the place up, decorated with stolen reclaimed contraband and suits of armour throughout the Shadow Gallery. Not to mention all the books stacked upon one another. V had a sense of pride as he paraded about his home. What he had created despite being in that terrible place. There was pride and satisfaction of being reborn from nothing but ashes, V felt something else. Isolated. Depressed. Rage. The unbearable and deafening silence. V craved a human connection (not that he would ever admit it). V wanted someone to talk to instead of making remarks with his victim before stabbing them multiple times. The void in his heart was always there, whispering and crying out for someone, somebody to listen to him so he wouldn’t go mad. Then you came. Something new, someone different. How could it be you were easily scared, but you were one of the most courageous people V had ever met? You were passionate about doing the right thing and stood up for what you believed in. Whenever V would actually get you to talk to you for more than five minutes it was delightful. You were snarky and witty. Whenever the telly or the radio hosts spat out some nonsense about V, your tongue was very quick to banter. You were sharp and god how V loved to see your eyes light up with a fire as you vented. From art, movies, books, to the injustice of Chancellor Sutler and the awful people he had hired. “They’re cowards,” you snarked at the news.

 “She’s scared,” you said as the news host prattled on about the new precautions against the masked terrorist. “Oh?” The both of you were sprawled out on the leather couch with a few feet between the two of you. Your brows were furrowed as you watched the blonde woman smile and laugh with the news guy. “She’s nervous; she’s laughing too much and smiling like a dumbass.” V just hummed as the news casters changed the subject. 

His sword thwacked against the dummy. It was late at night and you were already asleep. Or, so he thought. “V?” He turned around to see a very adoring sight. There was the fluffy blanket you had liked so much wrapped around your shoulders. Your hair was ruffled and your pajamas wrinkled. The sleepy look on your face made V smile. “Yes?” “It’s 3am. What the hell are you doing?” V tried not to laugh at the grumpy look on your face. “Fencing, mademoiselle.” You scoffed, “At 3am?” “It seems so. I apologize if I had awoken you.” The blanket moved as you shrugged. “It’s fine man, hard to sleep anyway.” V’s head tilted slightly. Your eyes were droopy as you stood there with the soft blanket pooling at your feet. “Something on your mind?” V felt like he overstepped a boundary once he said that. You paled a bit and twiddled with the blanket in your fingers. They scrunched it up tightly and let it go, repeating its movements. “Kinda yea,” you mumbled, shifting on your feet.  You looked nervous and gulped. “Today is.,,an anniversary of sorts. A very hard one.” V didn’t press, he tried to look as welcoming as much as he could. Comfort was not in V’s fortie, but he would try to in every way he could. “Just a lot of memories,” you muttered after a while. “It’s hard to talk about.” It felt awkward between the two of you. You could joke around with each other and talk about nothing, but this was something different. “Would you like a cup of tea,” V asked, breaking the silence. “If you don’t mind. I’d feel bad about you making some this late.” “Of course, to the kitchen shall we?” 

 Progress. Slow and steady progress. You were slowly opening up to V and to his surprise he was also. He was out late tonight and warned you he’d be gone for quite some time. You didn’t seem to mind, though there was a quiet sadness as you said goodbye. Maybe you did mind, but for what reason V couldn’t figure out. What was weirder is how much he enjoyed your company. He had been alone for so long. Memories of his family, his childhood were gone. They rose into the air like smoke’s wispy tendrils and disappeared. For so long V had found solace into the silence of his life. But ever since he had met you desparity’s hounds had caught onto the trails of his cloak and bit down like a harsh winter. V was desperate to find someone who wouldn’t make his world so lonely and cold. He was elated by the progress that the two of you made. You had enthralled him with your cunning grasp, like snakes slinging themselves around their prey. V was infatuated with you, enamoured with you. His heart fluttered and felt so much warmth like he was a bloody teenager. Something he hadn’t felt in years. V was convinced love would not be something he experienced, let alone felt after everything he has been through. But here you were, frollicking around like it was nothing. Did you feel the same? Were you infatuated with him as he was with you? What if you saw how ugly V was? How his skin was pink, raw, and scarred so horrendously. You would shriek in terror at the sight of his skin and be disgusted. V was sure of it. You saw his hands already, and sure you didn’t scream, but you didn’t see his face. God forbid you ever did. V snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the music once he got to the door of the gallery. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn’t have to wait so long.” The sound of your voice captured him. His heart twinged as your lovely voice drifted through the walls of the Shadow Gallery. It was fluttery like a songbird and so heavenly .He softly closed the door behind him and snuck to where your voice led him. V would regret interrupting this wonderful moment. “And wouldn’t it be nice to live together in a kind of world where we belong.” There, V saw a sight he never expected to see. A white bandana was folded and tied behind your head. A baggy t-shirt reached your mid thigh. V hoped you had something underneath it he shuddered and his face flushed at the thought. Paint was smeared across the shirt and your arms and legs. A canvas lay on the floor with a towel underneath it. Various paints and brushes lay discarded on the living room floor. It was a rare and very cute sight. “Oh my god,” you shrieked as you turned around to find your masked friend witnessing his living room a bit in disarray. V didn’t fail to notice the way your cheeks became a nice shade of rose red. “H-how long have you been standing there?” “Not for very long,” he replied. The voice of the singer carried on as the both of you stared at each other. What an amusing sight this is, V thought. His ward covered in paint and dancing around the gallery. V couldn’t help but compare  himself in his infamous “battle” attire, the hat and everything. “May I see what you are painting,” he asked after the two of you eyed one another. “Uh sure,” You shook yourself out of your daze and bent down to grab the canvas carefully. He couldn’t help but notice how disheartened you sounded from the question. Don’t look down, don’t look down, V had to tell himself as you squatted down. However tempting it was, he wouldn’t dare to rake his eyes over your delightful- “The paint is still drying a bit but uh it was gonna be a surprise...here it is.” You timidly raised the canvas and showed it to V.

 His heart stopped as he observed it. It was a painting of him. His mask was tilted downwards and his hair swept forward; its strands like an inky curtain. The most noticeable thing, however, was the red rose grasped in his left hand. The nose of V’s mask was “smelling it.” You had captured him in the most beautiful light, something he would never say about himself.“I-it’s alright if it’s bad, I can redo it or just throw i-it away-” “It’s perfect,” V whispered. He was floored. “O-oh thanks!” You were relieved that he had finally said something. “Can I ask you something, mademoiselle?” “Yea of course.” “Why did you paint me?” Your eyes widened at the question. The tips of your ears went pink and you dropped V’s gaze. “I-I just..as a thank you. For everything really. I k-know this situation isn’t exactly i-ideal for you either and well I….I just wanted to try and do something for you. You’ve done s-so much for me and I know it’s not that big of a deal but...it’s the least I can do.” V was moved;here you were putting your time and effort to create something for him. Did you share mutual feelings towards him? You were so nervous, after all. “You know,” V said after some time, “You sell yourself short. Your art is incredible.” Your lips tugged into a soft smile, “Thank you, V.” You looked around the mess of his living room floor. “Sorry you came home to such a mess, I’ll clean it up.” “Nonsense, mademoiselle, I’ve seen worse in my time.” Your brows furrowed at that but you decided not to push it. Maybe another time. “After the sitting room is cleaned, I advise you to go to sleep.” “But I wanna hear about your kick ass fights,” you pouted as you set the painting on the coffee table. V tutted, “Not tonight my dear, it is late. In the morning you shall hear of them.” “What are you, my dad,” you teased as you cleaned up your mess. 

Oh, how wicked you were. You strutted to the kitchen tauntingly, pouring out your cup and cleaning your brushes. V chuckled darkly, “If that’s how you would like to play it, then I won’t stop you.” You felt heat rush to your core at those words. “W-what HEY!” V’s arm snaked around your waist and he gently hung you over his shoulder. Your head felt dizzy as the ground moved beneath him. Your fists smacked softly onto his chest and your feet dangled in the air. “Put me down V!” His arm was snug around your waist as he made his way to his room. “Not until you have a good night’s rest my dear.” Huffing you hung there helplessly. “Fine fine I’ll go to sleep! I promise!” Your head spun and you felt hazy as you hung there upside down. Seemingly satisfied, V plopped you on the ground. Your hand clutched his arm tightly as you stood there regaining your balance. Your arms trailed down to the mask’s lips. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by V. Your cheeks tinged once you realized you had been caught staring.  “Night V.” His arm was free from your grasp as you turned to the bedroom door. “Goodnight, mademoiselle,” V replied. You gave him one last smile before softly shutting the door. A night without sleep seems to be ahead.