#if there’s another way you’d like to pay

[coryndoll]

plot ── tasked with interviewing actor drew starkey about his latest movie, you unintentionally steal the spotlight, leaving him blushing and lost for words under your mesmerizing gaze.

content ── reader being toooo pretty that drew is just like woah, drew being so observant ugh love him, reader not even trying to get his attention at all but ure just so alluring to him

authors note ── yea FUCK my series even tho i made that poll tbh im just so unmotivated. i saw this pic of drew n had some ideas for this lil oneshot of reader interviewing him post-premiere or something and him literally falling in love n reader noticing the little things n he becomes soheart eyes for u omg

you were a little nervous, to say the least. it was supposed to be a one-on-one interview, which somehow felt more intense than group ones with an entire cast. at least in those, the attention wasn’t entirely on you. but now? now it was just you and drew starkey, a handful of questions, and an awkwardly large camera crew standing just out of frame, watching everything. no pressure, right?

your boss had insisted that this interview focus on drew’s performance in his latest film. fair enough, but it also meant no backup—no costar to bounce off of or share the spotlight. it felt intimate in a way you weren’t entirely comfortable with, no matter how many times you’d done this. at the end of the day, it was just you sitting across from a celebrity while everyone else quietly judged your ability to hold a conversation.

you had almost turned this job down when you first started, not because of the nerves (though there were plenty) but because of the sheer vulnerability of it. still, the exposure wasn’t bad, and the paycheck? even better.

as you stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, the tension in your chest tightened just a bit. drew starkey, an actor you were only somewhat familiar with, sat casually in his chair. outer banks, hellraiser, the other zoey—you’d done your homework, skimming through his projects like your career depended on it. because, well, it kind of did. and he was . . . well, better looking in person, if that was even possible. the kind of face that made you forget you had questions to ask in the first place.

meanwhile, drew had been at this for hours. interviews were basically part of the job, but after a while, they all blended together. same questions, same conversations, just with different faces. he was tired but not miserable, holding onto the thought of dinner plans with some friends later that night.

interviews weren’t bad—he liked the connection when it happened, like the guy he was first interviewed by had laughed when he cracked a joke—but there was only so much charm drew could muster after a full day of talking about himself and the same film.

when you walked into the room, he barely glanced up at first. another assistant, probably, or someone from the crew running around to keep things moving. he didn’t pay much attention until you stopped right in front of him, introducing yourself and the network you worked for, arm extended for a handshake.

his gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he forgot how to move, but he pulled himself together quickly, or at least he hoped it looked that way. he shook your hand, smiling the kind of easy, practiced smile he’d perfected over the years, but there was something a little shaky in his voice when he said, “nice to meet you.”

he sat back down, reminding himself to focus. you were a professional. he was a professional. this was just another interview. but it was hard to ignore the way his heart picked up every time you looked at him like that—focused, curious, maybe even a little nervous yourself. he wasn’t sure what it was about you, but for the first time that day, he couldn’t wait for the next question.

his hand went to his earlobe almost instinctively, a nervous habit he hadn’t really noticed until now. yeah, you were . . . stunning, in the kind of way that made him feel like he should stand up straighter or check his hair. if someone had told him you were a celebrity, he wouldn’t have questioned it. but the fact that you were here to interview him? that just felt unfair.

but the interview was smooth, the kind he’d done a hundred times before. the questions were predictable again, circling around the same themes: his character, the challenges of filming, the energy on set. drew answered easily, slipping into that familiar rhythm, but every so often, his focus wavered—not on the questions, but on you.

you glanced down at your list, scanning it for the next prompt, and then back up at him with those eyes. god, those eyes. drew swore they could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even though he knew there were at least ten crew members just beyond the cameras.

he noticed it, though—how bored you seemed, even if you were too professional to let it show. your smile was polite, your tone unwavering, but every now and then, you hesitated just slightly before asking him a question, like you were already tired of the script you’d been given.

and then there was him, barely able to hold eye contact. it was almost embarrassing when he caught himself smiling at you, just a small, almost shy curve of his lips, but it was enough for you to pause, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him.

"are you okay?" you asked softly, your own lips quirking into a smile that practically knocked the wind out of him.

it was such a simple exchange, but drew could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “yeah. yeah, i’m . . . awesome,” he managed, clearing his throat and looking away for half a second before his eyes found their way back to yours. he had to play it off, had to stay professional, but the way you smiled back at him, like his answer had made your day a little brighter? it felt like a win. still, he reminded himself: there was only so much time left. you were on a clock, and he couldn’t afford to waste it, even if you made it almost too easy to get distracted.

you just laughed, accepting his answer, but the moment lingered. your smile lingered. and the questions rolled on, one after another. nothing groundbreaking, but you kept it light, adding just enough to make it feel like a conversation. drew appreciated that. but eventually, after a particularly shared laugh—he couldn’t even remember what the joke had been—he leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.

“okay, so what did you think about the movie?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. it caught you off guard; he could tell by the way your posture shifted, your pen stilling over your notes.

and then you started talking.

at first, it was simple—a few observations, some praise for the direction, the performances. but the more you went on, the more animated you became, your voice lifting slightly, your words flowing effortlessly. you dove deep, unraveling moments and emotions from the film like you’d been holding them in since the premiere. drew leaned back, one hand resting against his chin as he watched you, utterly mesmerized.

you talked about the subtlety of his character, how his guarded exterior felt like a shield hiding something raw and vulnerable. you mentioned the tension between the characters—the way their connection felt like a push-and-pull dance neither could fully commit to but couldn’t walk away from either. you dissected the music, the cinematography, how it all wove together like a symphony of yearning and restraint.

and the way you talked about his performance . . .

you didn’t gush, which he appreciated, but your words were thoughtful, specific. you spoke about his quiet expressions, the way he held so much in his body language—the hesitation in his glances, the way his character seemed to pull back just when you thought he’d lean in. it was like you’d been watching with a magnifying glass, picking apart moments even he hadn’t considered.

he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. not just because you liked the movie, though that didn’t hurt, but because it was you. you, sitting across from him, completely unaware of how captivating you looked while tearing apart his work in the best possible way. if someone had asked him to focus on anything other than the way you gestured, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your clipboard, or the way your lips curved when you spoke, he would’ve failed miserably.

drew just sat there, watching you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you weren’t just pretty—you were sharp, insightful, and clearly so much more than the routine questions your clipboard suggested.

“you’re good at this,” he said when you finally paused for a breath, and he meant it. but he couldn’t help the slight teasing edge in his tone, the way his smile softened just a little as his eyes met yours again.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Bad at love || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Sleeping with your enemy’s boyfriend was reckless, but what’s worse is the undeniable pull between you both afterward—a dangerous attraction that refuses to be ignored.

Warnings: cheating, suggestive content

Word count: 3,373

A/n: I actually didn't have much of plot line when I started this but I just kept on writing and writing... ALSO doesn’t this ong give major frat boy!rafe vibes?

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“And you missed Saturday’s practice, which was so important!” Katie’s sharp voice cuts through the chatter of the crowded party as she steps in front of you, arms crossed tightly. Her blue eyes burn with frustration, but you’re barely paying her any attention, your focus shifting to the drink table behind her. With a sigh, you roll your eyes and turn away, brushing her off without a word.

Her tone grows more demanding, her voice rising above the background noise. “You can’t keep missing practices like this! If you keep it up, I’ll have no choice but to kick you off the team.” The irritation in her voice is palpable, her stance stiff with authority she doesn’t seem to realise she’s lost. At her words, you can’t help the mocking scoff that escapes your lips.

Slowly, you turn back to face her, tilting your head as you look down at the shorter blonde. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, Katie?” you ask, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re not captain anymore, remember?” Her face flushes red, her anger mounting, but you don’t give her a chance to reply. Shouldering past her, you mutter, “Move,” as though she’s nothing more than a minor inconvenience in your path.

“I’m not done talking to you!” she yells after you, her voice carrying above the noise. “Well, I am,” you call back coolly without looking over your shoulder, throwing a dismissive wave in her direction. “Have fun, Katie!” The smirk on your face grows as you reach the kitchen, leaving her fuming in the middle of the room. You shake your head, exhaling as you grab a fresh drink, relieved to be away from her relentless nagging.

~

You lean against the counter in the kitchen, taking a sip of the drink you just poured, the alcohol beginning to blur the edges of your irritation. Katie’s voice still rings in your ears, but the buzz in your system makes it easier to push aside. She always did have a way of making everything about her, and you weren’t in the mood to entertain it tonight. Spinning around to head back to the party, you stumble slightly, your drink sloshing in the cup as you collide with a broad chest.

“Woah, easy there,” a smooth, amused voice says as a strong hand steadies your arm. Looking up, your hazy gaze meets Rafe Cameron’s sharp blue eyes, the smirk on his face almost as cocky as his usual demeanor. The dim lighting catches on his perfectly styled hair and the faint gold chain resting against his collarbone. He was the frat president, and Katie’s boyfriend, of course. Not that you’d ever paid much attention to him—until now.

“Rafe,” you mumble, your voice slurring just slightly as you step back, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Didn’t see you there.” “Clearly,” he teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a beat too long before he lets go. “You alright? You’re looking a little… tipsy.” His smirk widens, eyes scanning your face with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips under his gaze.

“I’m fine. Just needed a drink to deal with your girlfriend.” His brow raises at that, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Katie giving you hell again?” He says, his mouth curling into that boyish grin “You could say that,” you mutter, taking another sip of your drink. “She’s always got something to say. Like I’m supposed to care about her opinion.” Rafe chuckles, the sound low and warm, and it sends a strange thrill down your spine.

“Yeah, well, Katie’s got a… particular way of handling things. I usually just let her win the argument—it’s easier that way.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Sounds exhausting.” “It is,” he admits with a shrug, leaning casually against the counter beside you. “But she’s Katie. You know how she is.” His voice carries a mix of exasperation and fondness, but there’s something else there too—something you can’t quite place.

“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” you say dryly, though your eyes linger on him longer than they should. The alcohol is making you bolder, loosening your inhibitions as you study his sharp jawline, the way his lips quirk into an easy smirk. “What about you?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head. “What’s your excuse for being here, drinking like it’s your job tonight?” You shrug, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Needed a break. From life. From her.” You glance up at him, the corner of your mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Guess you’d understand that better than anyone.” His laugh is softer this time, almost genuine, and he shifts a little closer. “Maybe I do.” The conversation lingers, the tension between you growing with each passing second. The party outside feels like a distant hum, your attention locked solely on him.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else entirely, but when his hand brushes against yours, neither of you pulls away. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in closer, and so is he. His lips hover near yours, his breath warm and intoxicating. “This… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmurs, though his tone lacks conviction. “Probably not,” you whisper back, but neither of you moves to stop it.

The kiss is electric, a mix of pent-up frustration and reckless abandon. It’s messy and heated, your hands finding their way to his hair as his grip tightens on your waist. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to stumble out of the kitchen, his arm around your waist as he leads you upstairs, away from prying eyes. By the time you reach the bedroom, logic is a distant memory, lost in the haze of alcohol and the magnetic pull between you.

~

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice barely steady as you lie back against the pillow, your chest still heaving. Turning your head, you catch him already staring at you, his blue eyes darker than usual, shadowed with an emotion you can’t quite read. Your stomach twists, and the weight of what just happened starts to settle in. “I think we’re fucked.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, cutting through the stillness of the room. You groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands for a moment before glancing around for your clothes. The reality of what you’ve done is pounding at the edges of your hazy mind. Rafe exhales sharply beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair as he leans back against the headboard.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his voice low, almost resigned. “No shit.” The awkward shuffle of finding your clothes fills the silence. You spot your skirt crumpled on the floor and grab it, the fabric catching slightly as you pull it up your legs. A nervous chuckle escapes your lips as you fumble with the zipper, your hands trembling. “If Katie finds out about this…” you start, the words catching in your throat.

Rafe rubs his forehead, his expression darkening. “I know,” he groans, his tone sharp with frustration—at himself, at you, at the entire situation. Throwing the sheets off his lap, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his jeans. “I know, alright?” You glance at him as he dresses, his movements brisk and tense, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle twitch.

The easy confidence he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced with something rawer. “This was so stupid,” you mutter, more to yourself than him, tugging your top over your head and smoothing it down. You take a shaky breath, pressing your lips together as the full weight of your actions hits you. “What the hell were we thinking?”

Rafe scoffs softly, shaking his head as he zips his jeans. “We weren’t thinking,” he says flatly, his voice edged with self-loathing. “That’s the fucking problem.” For a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. The silence between you is suffocating, heavy with unspoken words and the growing weight of regret. The distant hum of the party downstairs feels surreal, like it belongs to another world entirely.

“I can’t believe I let this happen,” you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. Rafe looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly, his tone softer now, though there’s still a sharp edge to it. “I didn’t exactly stop it either.” His words don’t feel like comfort, but there’s an honesty to them that makes your chest tighten.

You press your fingers against your temples, trying to piece together a rational thought, but the alcohol still buzzing in your veins makes everything feel blurry and far away. “This can’t happen again,” you say firmly, breaking the silence. Your voice wavers slightly, but you push through, needing to set some kind of boundary before this spirals further. “You know that, right?”

Rafe doesn’t respond right away. He leans against the wall, dragging his hand down his face before meeting your gaze. His jaw works like he wants to argue, but finally, he nods. “Yeah,” he says simply, but the hesitation in his voice makes your stomach twist. His eyes linger on you, trailing over your face like he’s memorising it, and it makes you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you move toward the door. Your fingers curl around the handle, but you pause, glancing back at him. “We need to be careful,” you murmur, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “If she even suspects…”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts you off, his tone firmer this time. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—determination, maybe—but it doesn’t do much to ease the knot in your chest. With a small nod, you turn and slip out into the hallway, the noise of the party growing louder as you descend the stairs.

The music and laughter feel like a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside you, and you can’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a drunken mistake. But as much as you tell yourself it’s over, the way your heart skips at the thought of him suggests otherwise.

~

“Want a lift?” The voice, low and unmistakably smug, pulls your attention away from your phone. You lift your head and squint into the afternoon sun to find Rafe sitting in his truck, leaning casually out of the window. His forearm rests on the edge of the door, his fingers tapping lazily against the metal. The faint smirk on his lips is one you’ve come to know all too well.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me?” Rafe tilts his head, as if you hadn’t heard him correctly the first time. “I said, do you want a lift?” His tone is smooth, confident, like he’s entirely in control of the situation—and it’s already starting to get under your skin. You glance around quickly, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes dart over the school parking lot.

Your stomach churns as you spot the doors to the main building, half expecting Katie and her entourage to walk out at any moment. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?” you hiss, your voice low and sharp. Rafe doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by your reaction. If anything, the smirk on his face deepens. “What’s the problem? Need me to repeat myself again?”

Before you can fire back, the sound of doors opening grabs your attention. The distinct, high-pitched laughter of Katie and her friends echoes across the lot, sending a jolt of panic through you. Your stomach twists as your eyes lock onto them, walking out in a tight-knit group, their voices carrying. Katie, of course, is leading the pack, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Your pulse quickens. Without thinking twice, you yank open the truck door and climb in, muttering, “Fucks sake,” as you scramble into the passenger seat. The door slams shut, and Rafe chuckles, the sound low and teasing as he shifts the truck into gear. “Well, that was easier than I thought,” he murmurs, the truck lurching forward as he hits the gas.

You glance over your shoulder, watching as Katie and her friends grow smaller in the distance. Relief washes over you, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of embarrassment—and anger—as you snap your head back toward him. “What the hell, Rafe?” you spit, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Do you enjoy messing with people, or is it just some kind of hobby for you?”

Rafe glances at you, his smirk firmly in place. “I didn’t force you to get in,” he points out, his tone maddeningly casual. “You’re the one who panicked and dove into my truck like you were running from the cops.” You scoff, throwing him a glare. “I didn’t dive in. I—” You pause, clenching your jaw. “This is so typical of you. Showing up with your stupid truck, your stupid smirk—”

“My charm?” he cuts in, throwing you a sideways glance.“Your nerve,” you correct sharply, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrays you. Rafe laughs softly, the sound low and infuriatingly smug as he shifts gears and speeds up. The tension in the cab is palpable, thick enough to cut through, but he seems entirely at ease. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Relax,” he drawls after a moment, his tone smooth and teasing. “You got away unnoticed. Katie’s none the wiser. You grit your teeth, turning your gaze out the window. The scenery blurs as the truck tears down the road, but the distant hum of the engine does little to settle your nerves. The weight of his attention is impossible to ignore, like a spotlight burning into the side of your face.

After a long pause, Rafe speaks again, his voice quieter now but still tinged with amusement. “You know, I didn’t think you’d actually get in.” You whip your head around to face him, your brow furrowing. “Then why did you ask?” He shrugs, one corner of his mouth quirking up in that maddening half-smile. “Call it a hunch. Figured you might surprise me.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. There’s something about the way he says it—like he’s already won some unspoken game—that makes your chest tighten. You shake your head, scoffing under your breath as you turn your gaze back to the road. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words lack the bite you intended.

Rafe’s laugh rumbles softly beside you, and even though you hate to admit it, the sound sends a shiver down your spine. You press your lips into a thin line, determined not to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. “What were you even doing there? Were you following me?” you snap, narrowing your eyes as you turn toward him.

Rafe glances at you, his smirk deepening as if he finds your accusation amusing. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/l/n,” he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I was going to pick up Katie.” Your eyes widen in disbelief, your jaw dropping slightly. “You were going to pick up your girlfriend and yet, here we are?” you repeat, your voice sharp and incredulous.

Rafe chuckles again, clearly unbothered by the situation. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wow. Great boyfriend you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn to look out the window. “She’s probably going to wonder where the hell you are.”

He shrugs, completely nonchalant. “She’ll be fine. She’ll find a way back.” You whip your head back toward him, your mouth falling open. “Are you serious right now? You left her stranded, and you don’t even care?” “She’s not stranded,” Rafe says, his voice calm, as if you’re the one being unreasonable. “Her friends are there. They’ll give her a ride or something.”

You shake your head in disbelief, leaning back in your seat. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath. Rafe glances at you again, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back another laugh. “What?” “You,” you snap, gesturing toward him. “You’re acting like it’s no big deal, but if the roles were reversed, I guarantee you’d lose your mind if she ditched you for someone else.”

His smirk falters, just slightly, and for a moment, you think you might’ve struck a nerve. But then he shrugs again, the nonchalance returning as he shifts in his seat. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice quieter now, though there’s a glint in his eye that you can’t quite read. “But I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, and your stomach twists uncomfortably. You’re not sure what bothers you more—his blatant disregard for Katie or the fact that a small, shameful part of you likes the attention.

~

Rafe’s hands move with purpose, sliding under your shirt, the heat of his palms against your skin sending a jolt through you. You know you should stop this—you know the consequences of what you’re letting happen. But in the haze of his touch, every rational thought feels distant, muffled by the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing he wants in the world.

He leans in again, his lips brushing yours, but this time, the kiss is slower, deeper. It’s as if he’s savouring you, drawing out every moment. His fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake, and when he presses his body against yours, you feel yourself giving in completely.

Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low, guttural sound from him that sends a thrill through your entire body. He pulls away for just a second, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. “This is insane,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft.

“I know,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek in a way that feels too tender for the fire burning between you. “But I don’t care.” And neither do you. Rafe leans down, capturing your lips once more, and this time, there’s no hesitation. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, and with your silent permission, he pulls it over your head, discarding it onto the floor.

His eyes rake over you, filled with a hunger that makes your skin flush under his gaze. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, before his lips find your collarbone, then the curve of your shoulder. Your heart is pounding so hard it’s a wonder he can’t hear it. You reach for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He chuckles softly, taking over and shrugging it off in one smooth motion, revealing the toned lines of his chest. Rafe’s lips are on yours again before you can fully process the sight, and he gently lowers you onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight as he hovers above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, caging you in.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, his piercing blue eyes searching yours. You hesitate for the briefest of moments, the gravity of what you’re about to do settling over you. But then you nod, your hands finding their way to his waist, pulling him closer. “I’m sure,” you whisper. That’s all he needs.

Rafe kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a mix of passion and restraint, like he’s holding back just enough to savour every moment. The world outside fades away—Katie, the consequences, everything. All that matters is him, and the way he makes you feel like the centre of his universe. And for the rest of the night, he does just that.

[exhausted-archivist]

This is the banter about his going rates that I referenced in another post, and I see the comments and tags. I cannot tell you how much this isn’t him being a nepo baby or the “how much could it cost” meme.

Shoving the rest under the cut because I get the joke here but I need to yell about this man.

tldr: This isn’t dialogue about Lucanis being out of touch, and not knowing what money is worth. He knows, he’s a union man. This dialogue is about Lucanis learning about Harding’s values and priorities. He was worried he was low balling Harding. The tone in this dialogue throws him because what Harding says could easily be taken as “six thousand is only this much and I deserve more compensation.” Hence why he offered to negotiate with her and also why he clarified that the comparison was good.

Now for me yelling about this man:

Lucanis is a union man. Lucanis thinks everyone should be paid fairly, equally, and the market rate. He tells Neve to unionize with the other detectives to make sure she is being compensated fairly (to make sure they all are tbh) and that no one is underpricing themselves. If they are, they’re a scab.

He tells Bellara the Veil Jumpers are providing a service and risking their lives - they should be fairly and properly compensated. They should not only unionize but charge for their services.

Now there is something to say about capitalism and such, but Lucanis is vouching for this stuff because at the end of the day money is important in Thedas. With money you can buy the supplies you need. With money you can make more impactful change, bribe people with lesser morals, provide for people who need it. Cover funerary costs, compensate the families of those who died who maybe the person working for/with you was the only money earner. With money, you can choose to help on jobs that don’t pay at all because you have the comfort of knowing you have other work to cover things.

Lucanis isn’t asking Harding if that’s good because he doesn’t understand the value of what he’s offering. He’s asking Harding if it’s good to understand what her value of it is. Money is after all just a social contract of a universally agreed to system to value the more abstract concepts of value (and even then it fails at times). For all he knows she could have been presenting those examples to show he is lowballing her.

This man is offering to negotiate with her, but her words and tone throw him so he’s not sure if she is happy with the offer or offended.

Lucanis isn’t a nepo baby who thinks 10 dollars for a banana isn’t a lot. Illiaro is the nepo baby. Lucanis was born into wealth but he knows the value of it and works hard to not only earn it but also maintain it. This man has standards, he wants the best because he can afford it so he will not accept anything less than his expensive, luxury Orlesian peaches.

Lucanis doesn’t value goats or a barn the same way Harding does. For her there is personal attachment and sentimentality (see where money fails to properly put a value on something). He knows their monetary worth of those things but he would not be pleased or excited to be paid in a herd of goats (unless perhaps if they were Ayesleigh gulabi goat). But Harding does value those things. Those things have more meaning to her than their value in gold, that’s home. That’s stability. That’s purpose and security. Giving books to the whole village? That’s enriching lives, that teaching people to read. That is uplifting people.

If you asked Lucanis to list off what 6k gold could get him? You’d see his values are different, it would be coffee, luxury food ingredients, wyvern memorabilia, daggers.

Anyways, this isn’t my blorbo but he’s the blorbo of friends I have and man is up there with Cullen, Davrin, and others. Just rotating in my brain space because people I care about like him.

Also this makes me wonder how much the Inquisition was paying Harding and if Lucanis is going to provide her with one of his lawyers like he did for Neve and Bellara.

I've seen Lucanis' family villa so I knew he was rich, but this banter made me realize that he's a rich boy who has no idea what money is worth lmao.

[fioredeciliego]

Hell of a Ride (Wish there was a Car) - Karina x Fem!Reader

Be warned, there is smut 15k words

The jungle was thick with the midday sun, beads of sweat trailing down your neck as you trudged after Jimin. She seemed oddly serene, picking her way through dense vegetation with a kind of breezy confidence that only made you feel more uneasy. Each step away from any familiar landmark left you feeling more lost, yet Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. As she led the way, her hand brushed against a massive fern, sending droplets of morning dew sprinkling through the air.

“Are you really sure this is the right path?” you asked, trying to sound calm but unable to mask the tension in your voice. You’d lost track of how many times you’d already asked, but this time, you hoped she’d finally admit they might be heading in the wrong direction.

Jimin turned and flashed you her signature grin. “Totally sure. It’s just… a scenic route,” she said, her tone a little too carefree.

“A scenic route,” you repeated flatly, your eyes scanning the endless sea of green surrounding you. The air was thick and still, with only the occasional call of a distant bird breaking the silence. “You mean the path where we haven’t seen another soul in hours?”

“Exactly!” She laughed, nudging you with her elbow as if the whole thing was a harmless joke. “You’ll thank me later when we’re out of here with the best story to tell. How many people can say they’ve been ‘lost’ in the jungle? This is the kind of story people want to hear!”

An uncomfortable laugh escaped you, though it was more a reflex than actual amusement. “Lost isn’t exactly the word I’d use. We’re… stranded, Jimin.”

Jimin chuckled, apparently amused by your escalating nerves. “Stranded? That’s such a strong word! We’re just… wandering with a purpose. Besides, we’ve got food, water, even a little signal now and then. We’re fine.”

Frustration bubbled up in your chest, the tension reaching a breaking point. “Jimin, wandering with a purpose only works if you actually have a direction. We’re just walking aimlessly!”

She stopped, finally looking you in the eyes, her smile faltering as she registered the worry in your face. Her voice softened. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Worst case, we’ll just retrace our steps.”

“Retrace our steps? Do you even remember the way we came?” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took in the pathless jungle surrounding you both. “I don’t think ‘back’ is even a possibility anymore.”

Jimin hesitated, glancing over her shoulder with a thoughtful expression, and you could tell she was trying to play it off. But it was painfully clear she hadn’t been paying attention to the way they’d come. She shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Well, it’s not like we’re out here without resources. We’ve got plenty of daylight, food, and I’ll get us back to where we started.”

You sighed, exasperation lacing your words. “Jimin, this isn’t a movie. We don’t have some magical compass that’s going to lead us to safety. This is real. And it’s dangerous.”

Jimin’s face softened, and for a second, she almost looked apologetic. She took a tentative step closer, reaching out as if she wanted to comfort you. “Hey, I get it. I do. But… maybe this could be a fun experience. Something we’ll laugh about later?” Her eyes sparkled, an optimistic light that seemed wildly out of place in the suffocating jungle.

“A fun experience?” you asked, unable to hide the mix of irritation and worry. “This isn’t a weekend trip to the beach. We’re in the jungle, miles from any kind of help.”

Jimin looked down at her feet, a sheepish expression crossing her face. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… thinking it through. But look, we’re here now, and I’ll make sure we get back. Worst case, we’ll head in one direction and keep going until we find a trail.”

“Assuming that actually works,” you muttered, scanning the tangled undergrowth with skepticism. The sheer volume of plants and trees was overwhelming, every corner of the jungle looking like an endless mirror of the last.

Jimin reached out, gently brushing a leaf off your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, at least we’ve got a good view, right?” she joked, gesturing to the towering trees and vibrant green around you. “This isn’t just any regular adventure. It’s, like… a private jungle getaway. Just the two of us.”

“A private jungle getaway?” you repeated, the disbelief clear in your voice. “Are you seriously calling this a romantic outing? We’re lost, Jimin.”

She tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, just go with it! Imagine it’s like… a spontaneous date, complete with the best ambiance nature has to offer. You and me, lost in paradise… don’t you think it’s kind of nice?”

You let out an exasperated huff, though you couldn’t deny the flicker of warmth her words stirred. “I don’t think you get it. This isn’t some fun little escapade, Jimin. We’re actually stuck, and there’s a good chance we won’t get out of here by nightfall.”

She held up her hands defensively, a guilty smile creeping onto her face. “Okay, fair point. Maybe I’m downplaying things a little. But hey, I’ve been camping before. I’ve got some survival skills,” she said, attempting a confident grin.

“Oh, great. So you know how to toast marshmallows? That’ll really save us,” you replied dryly, though her attempt at humor brought a reluctant smile to your face.

Jimin laughed, a genuine sound that cut through the tension for a moment. She reached out and ruffled your hair affectionately, a teasing smile on her lips. “I know, I know. I’ll be serious. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any sign of a trail. Just don’t worry too much. I’ve got you.”

A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away, the worry still a tight knot in your stomach, but her sincerity softened your anger a little. Jimin’s confidence might be misplaced, but it was hard to stay completely mad at her when she looked so earnest. Maybe she didn’t understand the full weight of the situation, but there was no denying she genuinely cared.

“Fine,” you said, giving in with a reluctant smile. “But no more detours, okay? We’re sticking to whatever you think is the straightest path out of here.”

She gave a little salute, her expression brightening. “Yes, ma’am. No more detours.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide a small smile as you followed her through the undergrowth, her confident strides taking her forward with a purpose you weren’t sure she actually had. Her energy was reassuring, even if misplaced.

--

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the jungle, transforming the trees into towering green pillars and the undergrowth into a vibrant tapestry. You and Jimin finally emerged into a small clearing, a brief break in the dense foliage that gave you both a moment to breathe. Though neither of you would admit it, you were both hoping it meant you were finally headed in the right direction.

Jimin, of course, was still trying to appear as confident as ever, even though you’d caught her glancing over her shoulder more than a few times as if she were second-guessing herself. She wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her forehead, hands on her hips as she surveyed the area. “Alright,” she declared, as if she’d just led you on a great expedition, “I think we’re back on track.”

You raised an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “You think we’re back on track?”

“Hey, I’m pretty sure,” Jimin replied, shrugging. She flashed you a lopsided grin, her confidence radiating even though it seemed clear she was mostly guessing. “Besides, you don’t see anyone else here with a map, right?”

“Yeah, because we don’t have a map,” you pointed out, unable to keep a small laugh from slipping out. Jimin’s misplaced confidence was somehow endearing, even though you still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

Ignoring your tone, Jimin gestured forward with a flourish, as if presenting a path only she could see. “Look, I know it seems like we’re lost, but trust me. We’re not,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

You glanced around the clearing, squinting into the dense underbrush, trying to find any indication of where you’d come from. “Okay, well, if you’re so sure, let’s try heading back the way we came, alright?”

Jimin shrugged nonchalantly. “Easy! Just follow me.”

But as she took a confident step forward, her boot caught on an exposed root hidden beneath a layer of leaves. With a startled yelp, Jimin stumbled forward, reaching out instinctively for balance. Unfortunately, you happened to be right in her path, and before you could even react, she grabbed onto your arm, pulling you down with her.

You both hit the ground with a soft thud, leaves crunching beneath you. Jimin landed partially on top of you, her weight pinning you down for a moment. A shocked silence hung between you both as you registered the tangle of limbs, your faces just inches apart. She blinked, eyes wide with embarrassment, her cheeks flushing as she quickly scrambled off of you.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” she sputtered, cheeks flushed as she tried to brush the dirt off herself. “Are you okay?”

You groaned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you brushed a few stray leaves from your hair. “I think I’m fine. But maybe let’s leave the dramatic falls to the action movies, yeah?”

Jimin let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “Guess I got a little overzealous there. Sorry for, you know, tackling you.”

Despite the dirt and the sting of impact, you found yourself laughing, the sound surprising both of you. Jimin looked at you, wide-eyed and slightly taken aback.

“Wait, are you… laughing at me?” she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

You shook your head, but the laughter only bubbled up more. “No, no, I’m just laughing at… the situation. Here we are, ‘retracing our steps,’ only to end up face-first in the dirt. It’s… fitting, somehow.”

Jimin’s lips curled into a reluctant smile, and soon she was laughing too, her soft giggles filling the clearing. “Alright, alright. So maybe I’m not the best at leading us through the jungle. But look, I’m keeping things interesting, aren’t I?”

“Interesting is one way to put it,” you replied, still smiling as you pushed yourself up and brushed the dirt from your clothes. “I mean, there’s never a dull moment with you around.”

She grinned, giving you a mock salute. “Glad to be of service. Now, let’s try this again… maybe without the acrobatics this time.”

Standing side by side in the clearing, you both took a moment to reassess your situation. Jimin straightened her shoulders, attempting to take on a serious, determined expression as she glanced around, as if searching for any sign of the way forward.

“So,” she began, looking around with a touch of genuine uncertainty, “since we’re clearly both experts in navigation, why don’t we try to divide up what we’re carrying? If we’re going to find our way back, we should at least make sure we’re both prepared for anything.”

You nodded, grateful for the small bit of planning. “Good idea. Let’s take stock of what we’ve got.” Together, you emptied out the few supplies you had between the two of you: a half-full water bottle, a granola bar, a small flashlight with a barely-charged battery, and a few other random items neither of you had expected to need in the middle of a jungle.

Jimin eyed the meager supplies, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “So, you carry the flashlight and water, and I’ll hold onto the snacks. That way, if we get tired, I can give you a pep talk with food,” she joked, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes but handed her the granola bar, trying not to let your growing worry show too much. “Just don’t eat it all yourself. We might need it if we’re still out here for a while.”

Her smile softened as she looked over at you, her expression unexpectedly gentle. “Hey, don’t worry too much. I promise I’ll get us out of here, okay? I might be a little clumsy, but I don’t give up easily.”

Something in her tone reassured you, a quiet conviction that made you feel a bit more grounded. You gave her a nod, tucking the flashlight into your bag. “Alright. Then lead the way, oh fearless one. Just… watch out for those roots this time.”

She chuckled, giving you a playful nudge as she started forward again, her gaze more focused as she scanned the ground in front of her. And as you followed her deeper into the jungle, you couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would find a way to lead you both out of there—without too many more bruises along the way.

--

The sky shifted from bright blue to soft hues of pink and orange, signaling the day’s end as you and Jimin continued trudging through the dense jungle. Despite her determination, both of you knew that walking aimlessly in the dark wouldn’t get you anywhere. Finally, you spotted a small, open area nestled between a few large trees.

“I think we should stop here,” you suggested, setting down your bag and glancing up at the streaks of fading sunlight poking through the canopy. “It’s going to be pitch-black soon, and we’ll just end up tripping over ourselves in the dark.”

Jimin glanced around, hands on her hips, then nodded. “Good call. I mean, it’s only one night, right?” She shot you a quick, slightly nervous grin as she looked around, already beginning to gather sticks and leaves in a valiant attempt to make a shelter.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her struggle with the basics of shelter-building, her clumsiness getting in the way. She tried stacking some larger sticks against a low-hanging tree branch, but they slid down almost immediately, leaving her standing in a defeated, tangled mess of branches and vines.

“Need a hand?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

Jimin’s face turned slightly red, though she managed a lopsided grin. “What, you don’t think I know how to set up camp?”

You chuckled softly, reaching out to steady one of the sticks she was holding. “I’m just saying, if we leave it up to you, we might end up sleeping under a pile of leaves.”

Jimin laughed, scratching the back of her head as she stepped back, letting you take the lead. “Fine, fine. I’ll let the expert take over… for now.”

You started rearranging the sticks, weaving them together to make a sturdier frame. As you worked, you couldn’t help but feel her eyes on you, watching intently, as if she were genuinely impressed by your makeshift construction skills. When you looked up, you found her staring at you with a small smile, her expression softer than usual. Your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the structure.

Jimin cleared her throat, taking a step closer as she bent down to help. “So… any camping trips in your past that I should know about?”

You shrugged, placing a handful of palm leaves on the frame to create a sort of roof. “My family used to go camping a lot when I was younger. I guess I picked up a few things along the way.”

“Ah, see, you’re full of surprises,” she said with a grin, carefully placing leaves beside yours. Her fingers brushed yours for a split second as she worked, sending a strange but pleasant jolt through you.

The sun dipped lower, and you continued working side by side, occasionally bumping elbows or reaching for the same spot, only to pull back with shy smiles. Eventually, you’d pieced together a small but sturdy shelter, just big enough to fit you both and keep the wind out.

Jimin stepped back to admire your work, her eyes shining with genuine pride. “Not bad! I guess we make a pretty good team.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you looked at her, noting the way her face lit up despite the dimming light around you. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

She settled down inside the shelter, patting the spot next to her with a playful grin. “Come on, don’t be shy! Your construction, your prime seat.”

Rolling your eyes, you crawled in beside her, grateful for the shelter you’d built together. With the last bit of daylight slipping away, an unfamiliar yet comfortable quiet fell over the two of you. The jungle sounds became more pronounced as night fell—crickets chirped, and the occasional rustle of leaves hinted at the hidden creatures nearby. You hugged your knees to your chest, glancing over at Jimin, who sat with her legs stretched out, leaning against the shelter frame with a relaxed smile on her face.

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world, the isolation of the jungle bringing a rare kind of intimacy. You turned to her, breaking the silence. “Do you think anyone’s noticed we’re gone?”

Jimin shrugged, glancing up at the now star-speckled sky. “Probably… though I doubt they’re panicking yet. They’ll figure out we’re missing by morning, I bet.”

“Guess that means we’re stuck here for the night, then,” you murmured, a touch of worry in your voice.

Jimin must have sensed your unease because she gave you a reassuring smile, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s kind of like an adventure, right? Just think of it as… our own little jungle getaway.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Right. The ideal vacation spot: stranded in the jungle with no food or water.”

She laughed softly, nudging you. “Well, maybe not ideal, but… hey, at least we’ve got each other.” Her eyes met yours, the soft light in them making your breath hitch for a moment.

You managed a small smile, leaning back against the frame of the shelter. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

A comfortable silence settled over you once more, broken only by the symphony of nighttime sounds. You felt Jimin’s shoulder brush against yours as she shifted slightly, leaning in closer as if to share warmth in the cool night air. Her presence, though often clumsy and exasperating, was undeniably comforting in this strange, lonely place.

After a while, she spoke up, her voice softer than usual. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever spent a night like this before. It’s… kind of nice.”

You glanced over at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “Yeah? Even though we’re, you know, lost?”

She laughed quietly. “Yeah. Maybe it’s the whole survival thing, but I feel… I don’t know, alive. Like, really alive.”

You found yourself smiling at her words, understanding what she meant. There was something oddly exhilarating about the danger, the rawness of the situation you were in. And though you wouldn’t admit it, you were grateful for her company.

As you both settled into silence once more, your eyelids grew heavy, the sounds of the jungle lulling you into a surprisingly peaceful state. Just as you were on the edge of sleep, you heard Jimin mumble softly, almost to herself, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep us safe.”

--

The night air in the jungle quickly grew colder as the sky darkened, the warmth of the day fading into the cool embrace of the evening. You huddled closer to the shelter, pulling your jacket tighter around you, but the chill still seeped into your bones. You could feel the air turning brisker, the jungle’s nocturnal hum growing louder in contrast to the stillness that had settled between you and Jimin.

Jimin shifted next to you, clearly uncomfortable, her shoulders hunched as she wrapped her arms around herself. She glanced over at you, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as she attempted to break the tension.

“So, uh, is this… how you imagined our first night alone together?” she asked, her tone playful but laced with a nervous undertone. She gave a slight shrug as she shuffled closer, her eyes catching the moonlight, making her look almost ethereal. “I mean, I gotta say, this isn’t quite the cozy, romantic campfire I was picturing, but… maybe I’m just doing it wrong.”

You shot her a look, suppressing a grin at her antics. "Definitely not the romantic getaway I had in mind," you said dryly, though the teasing tone in your voice didn’t quite mask the warmth you were beginning to feel. It wasn’t just from the campfire; it was from being in such close quarters with her.

Jimin shifted again, now sitting much closer to you, though you hadn’t moved at all. She glanced over at you, her eyes softening for a moment before she broke the silence with another joke. “You cold?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because if you’re cold, I mean, you could always snuggle up to me. I’m pretty good at staying warm… you know, since I’m basically a walking heater.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at her flirtatious remark, but something inside you stirred at her words. It was so casual, so effortless, yet you could feel the shift in the air around you. The closeness, the playful teasing—it made your heart race in a way you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though the words felt hollow as the chill gnawed at you once more. You pulled your legs up to your chest, trying to stay warm, but you couldn’t deny the sudden longing for her proximity, for her warmth.

Jimin noticed the small shiver that ran through you, and her teasing smile softened. “You sure? I can’t let my teammate freeze, you know. You’re kind of important.” She gently nudged your shoulder with hers, a little more sincerely now.

You let out a quiet, half-laugh. “I’m not going to freeze. I’ve been through worse.”

Jimin’s smile remained, but there was an underlying concern in her eyes. “Still, it’s not just about surviving, it’s about being comfortable, too.” Her voice dropped slightly, and you could hear the sincerity in it, which made your heart flutter a little.

She hesitated for a moment before sliding closer, her body warmth becoming more apparent as she sat beside you, a little closer than before. She tugged her jacket tighter around herself, but it was clear it wasn’t enough to keep her warm either. Her eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something unspoken in them.

“Come on, don’t make me beg for it,” she teased, her voice light again as she nudged you more insistently. “I’m just offering my body heat, not a lifetime commitment. Though, if you’re into that…” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically, and you couldn’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Jimin, you’re impossible,” you muttered, though you didn’t push her away. Instead, you found yourself unconsciously leaning into her, the warmth she offered starting to feel too tempting to resist.

“See? I knew you were secretly into it,” she teased softly, though her voice was warmer now, less cocky. She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close in a comfortable embrace, the kind of closeness that felt both natural and slightly awkward at the same time.

You froze at first, a little startled by how easy it felt to just… fall into her. But then the warmth from her body enveloped you, and you sighed in relief, your tense shoulders loosening. The cold from before seemed to melt away, replaced by the undeniable warmth of her embrace.

Jimin leaned her head lightly against yours, her breath warm against your ear. “See? This isn’t so bad, right?”

You couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips, even as you tried to act nonchalant about the entire thing. “I guess not,” you muttered. You didn’t want to admit how good it felt, how right it felt to be this close to her, especially with everything that had happened earlier. You weren’t sure why the touch of her skin against yours sent a flutter through your chest, but you weren’t ready to acknowledge it just yet.

There was another beat of silence between you two as you both just sat there, the only sound coming from the distant jungle creatures and your shared breaths. You felt Jimin’s hand slip just a little lower down your back, her fingers brushing against your waist, and your heart skipped.

She pulled away slightly, her voice soft but playful, a teasing edge still lingering. “Are you comfortable now? Or do I need to get even closer?” Her grin was mischievous, but you could tell she was still testing the waters, gauging how much you were willing to let her in.

Your face warmed at the suggestiveness in her voice, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you found yourself leaning in closer, your head resting against her shoulder. “This is fine,” you said softly, though you could feel your heartbeat quicken.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, trying to break the tension, even though part of you didn’t want to. “You really like to joke around, don’t you?”

Jimin grinned, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Hey, I have to make the best out of our romantic jungle getaway, right? Just trying to keep the mood light.” She tilted her head, her voice taking on a more sincere note. “But seriously, I’ll keep you warm. I don’t mind.”

Something in her words—soft, but unspoken—made your heart race. You looked up at her then, her expression unreadable for a second before she nudged you with her shoulder, her grin returning. You couldn’t help but smile back, your feelings all tangled up in this strange, overwhelming mixture of warmth, laughter, and unexpected connection.

--

As the first rays of sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, you stirred awake, rubbing the remnants of sleep from your eyes. The morning was calm, with the soft hum of the jungle waking up around you. Jimin was already up, fiddling with the last of your shared provisions to make some semblance of breakfast. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, her hands fumbling slightly as she tried to tear open a package of granola bars.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” she greeted with a smirk as you sat up, blinking in the dawn light. “Just in time to join me for this… Michelin-star breakfast I’ve whipped up.” She raised an eyebrow, brandishing a half-crushed granola bar with mock grandeur.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Ah, yes. The classic ‘lost in the jungle with no real food’ breakfast. How gourmet of you.”

She grinned, delighted to have coaxed a laugh out of you. “Hey, I’ll have you know that in some cultures, this counts as a romantic adventure date,” she quipped, her voice light but with a mischievous edge.

You froze mid-reach for a water bottle, raising an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry—adventure date?” You couldn’t help but scoff, though the corners of your mouth threatened to lift. “Are you seriously calling this a date?”

Jimin shrugged, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Well, I mean, think about it: secluded location, scenic views, lots of quality alone time…” She raised her hands, gesturing at the sprawling jungle around you. “Besides, you don’t seem to be hating it as much as you let on.” She shot you a grin, clearly enjoying every second of teasing you.

You bit back a smile, trying to look as exasperated as possible. “Jimin, I think I’d prefer a less ‘lost and starving in the wilderness’ kind of date,” you said, though your tone was soft.

Jimin leaned in, nudging you with her shoulder. “Aw, come on. Think of the memories we’re making! Just imagine the stories we’ll have to tell… if we make it out, of course,” she added with a laugh.

You gave her a sidelong glance, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself smiling despite yourself. “Fine, but next time I get to choose the date spot. Preferably somewhere with less… potential for starving,” you replied, only half-joking.

Jimin put her hand to her chest in mock offense. “Noted! Though, I don’t know, you’ve been a pretty good sport about it all. You’re even smiling at my jokes now.” She leaned in a little closer, her tone dropping as she added, “See? I knew you’d come around to liking me.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the warmth that crept up your cheeks. “I wouldn’t get too cocky just yet,” you muttered, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

She looked at you, something playful but genuine in her gaze. “Admit it—you’re having a little bit of fun,” she teased, tilting her head to try and catch your eye. “I know you can’t resist my charms forever.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your grin. “Jimin, I’m just doing my best to survive out here with you. Let’s not read too much into it.”

But as you both started packing up to continue your trek, Jimin kept up her playful banter, her flirtation escalating in small, unexpected ways. Every so often, as you made your way through the thick jungle underbrush, she’d lean over, whispering dramatic “observations” about your surroundings as though narrating a romantic survival film.

“Oh, look over there,” she whispered in a hushed, faux-dramatic tone as she pointed to a patch of sunlight filtering through the leaves. “Nature has provided us with mood lighting for our romantic hike. It’s practically begging us to lean into the ‘lost lovers’ vibe.”

You gave her a disbelieving look, stifling a laugh. “You really know how to spin a narrative, don’t you?”

She flashed you a grin, proud of herself. “Hey, one of us has to lighten the mood. And, by the way, you’re welcome.” She glanced over, her eyes warm and inviting, and you couldn’t help but feel your defenses soften around her.

The path became a little trickier, with tangled roots and slick patches of mud, and Jimin offered you her hand to steady yourself more times than you’d care to admit. Each time, her hand lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and each time, you felt your resolve weaken just a little bit more.

“Jimin, I can handle myself, you know,” you protested lightly the fifth or sixth time she reached out to you, though you took her hand anyway. Her grip was warm and steady, a stark contrast to the damp chill that surrounded you.

“Sure, sure,” she said breezily, giving you a wink. “But where’s the fun in that? Besides,” she added, her voice dropping a little, “I like helping you. It’s nice to feel… needed.”

Her words caught you off guard, and you glanced over at her, but her expression was soft and sincere. For a moment, the playful mask had dropped, and you saw something else there—something that made your heart skip.

“Well,” you said softly, unsure of how to respond but unable to look away, “thanks, I guess.”

She shrugged, her smile returning as she released your hand, but not before giving it a little squeeze. “Anytime. It’s what co-workers… and adventure dates… are for.”

You gave her an exasperated look, but this time, you didn’t bother hiding your smile. “I’m sure this is the most unconventional adventure date of all time.”

Jimin just laughed, her voice ringing out through the quiet jungle, her happiness infectious. As you both continued onward, her flirtations and teasing became a little bolder, a little more natural, as if she were testing the waters between you with each lighthearted quip.

--

The two of you had been walking for what felt like hours, cutting through thick vines and maneuvering over gnarled roots, Jimin’s lighthearted banter punctuating the stillness of the jungle. Despite the challenging terrain, the growing camaraderie between you made the journey less daunting, even fun. But then, as you stepped around a massive tree trunk, everything changed in an instant.

Jimin froze beside you, her arm instinctively reaching out to block your path. You followed her gaze, feeling your heart drop as you spotted a snake in the clearing ahead, coiled and motionless at first. Its thick, scaled body gleamed in the filtered sunlight, but its head was raised, alert—and pointed directly at you.

“Don’t move,” Jimin whispered, her voice low and tense, as if any sound could set it off.

“Jimin…” you breathed, feeling a chill run down your spine. The snake’s body tensed, its gaze fixed on both of you, and you instinctively took a small step back. The movement seemed to trigger it. In a flash, it uncoiled, darting forward with terrifying speed.

“Y/N, stay back!” Jimin yelled, reacting on instinct. Without a second thought, she grabbed you and spun you behind her, shielding you with her own body as she faced the snake, her stance defensive.

The snake reared up, striking out, and Jimin quickly grabbed a nearby branch to hold it back. You watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as she waved the branch, creating enough space to maneuver backward with you. Her gaze stayed fixed on the snake as it hissed and snapped, still pressing toward you both, its anger evident.

“Just… keep moving, slow and steady,” she whispered, her voice tight as she pushed you back. “We don’t want to make it angrier.”

You obeyed, retreating step by step, but your heart raced wildly. Despite the danger, the way Jimin stayed protectively between you and the snake left you speechless, your nerves twisting into a strange blend of fear and… something else. Her hand never left your arm, holding you close even as she guided you both away.

Just as you thought you were out of reach, Jimin stumbled over a stray root, her grip on the branch slipping. The snake lunged forward, its body a flash of movement, and you instinctively grabbed her, steadying her before it could strike. Heart pounding, she managed to pull you both further back, the distance finally enough to make the snake give up its chase. It hissed once more before slithering off into the underbrush.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands still clutching Jimin’s arm as your eyes met hers. For a few seconds, neither of you said a word, the intensity of the moment leaving you both frozen in place.

“Are… are you okay?” she asked softly, her own breathing heavy as she took you in, concern etched on her face.

“Am I okay?” you replied, a shaky laugh escaping as you felt a strange warmth flood your cheeks. “You’re the one who just took on a snake!”

Jimin chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as she slowly lowered the branch and dropped it to the ground. “Guess I just couldn’t let anything happen to my favorite jungle explorer,” she quipped, her tone trying to lighten the mood, though her gaze stayed focused, her eyes scanning your face as if to make sure you were truly unharmed.

You exhaled, still holding onto her arm as the reality of what had just happened settled in. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, squeezing your hand. “But I wanted to. Besides,” she added, trying to play it cool, “I couldn’t let you go running off without me, right?”

Her words sparked something inside you, and the reality of her protectiveness, her quick instinct to shield you, left you speechless. “Jimin…” you whispered, not quite sure how to express what you were feeling. Your gratitude, your surprise, the slight flutter in your chest—it was all tangled up.

Jimin’s expression softened as she took a small step closer, her hand lifting to brush a stray leaf from your shoulder. “You look really flustered,” she said with a teasing smirk, trying to ease the tension with humor, but her voice held an unmistakable warmth. “Was it the snake, or was it me?”

You scoffed, a nervous laugh slipping out. “Just... I wasn’t expecting my trip partner to go full survival mode on me,” you muttered, your gaze dropping to the ground as you tried to process the overwhelming moment.

She tilted her head, a soft chuckle escaping. “Guess I surprised you, huh?” she whispered, her fingers tracing an absentminded pattern along your arm, her touch grounding you.

“You did,” you admitted, finally looking up to meet her gaze. “Thank you, though. Seriously.”

Her gaze softened further, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, and for a moment, it was as if the two of you were in your own little world, the jungle fading into the background. “Anytime,” she murmured, giving you a playful smile. “Now, come on. Let’s try not to make any more angry friends out here, yeah?”

And with that, she took your hand in hers, leading you onward, her grip steady and reassuring as you walked deeper into the jungle.

--

You and Jimin finally find a small stream after hours of trudging through dense foliage. The soft trickle of water over rocks is a relief, and you both settle down on a smooth boulder near the bank, grateful for the brief reprieve.

You take off your shoes and dip your feet into the cool water, sighing as the chill soothes the soreness from walking. Jimin follows suit, gingerly lowering her feet beside yours. The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the forest and the gentle stream.

“Honestly… I didn’t expect the jungle to be this intense,” Jimin says with a small laugh, breaking the quiet. “Or for us to end up lost like this.”

You smile, the tension of the day beginning to ease. “Maybe next time, we leave the navigating to someone who doesn’t have a talent for getting us into trouble.”

She grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair point. Though, I don’t know, it makes things interesting, don’t you think?”

“Interesting, maybe,” you reply, glancing at her with a small smile. “But it’s not exactly the ideal place to get lost.”

Jimin chuckles softly, but there’s a momentary flicker in her gaze as she looks away, her fingers lightly trailing over the water’s surface. The joking air between you both fades a little, and she seems to fall quiet, a pensive look crossing her face. She dips her head, absently tracing small circles in the water.

You give her a sidelong glance, sensing something she isn’t saying. “Hey, you okay?”

She hesitates, then smiles, but it’s a quieter smile than usual, lacking its usual spark. “I’m fine, yeah. Just thinking, I guess. You know… I joke around a lot, but it’s probably annoying sometimes, huh?”

The comment catches you off guard. You shake your head. “No, it’s not annoying. You’ve actually been keeping things… less terrible. Besides, that’s just who you are, right?”

“I guess.” She pauses, her fingers trailing over the rock beside her. “It’s funny, though. It’s like… if I didn’t make people laugh, they wouldn’t even notice I was there. And sometimes… I wonder if that’s all people see.”

Her voice drops, a vulnerability in her words that you’d never heard before. She’s looking down, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her shirt, and for once, the usual spark in her eyes has dimmed.

You hesitate, wanting to say the right thing. “Jimin, I know you’re funny and lighthearted, but I think that’s only one part of you. You’re… a lot more than that.”

She looks up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. You can be… thoughtful, too,” you say, glancing at her with a small smile. “You’re protective, like with that snake earlier. And you’re just… real. You’re not just hiding behind some persona.”

Jimin’s expression softens, and she smiles, a shy, almost relieved look crossing her face. “I guess I’ve just never thought of it like that,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping again.

There’s a quiet moment between you as she lets those words linger in the air. Something in your chest aches for her, for this hidden vulnerability she usually covers up so well. You reach over, your hand brushing hers, a comforting squeeze to let her know she’s not alone.

“I… care about both sides of you, Jimin. The funny, playful side, and the thoughtful side, too,” you say softly. “You don’t have to hide anything.”

Jimin turns to you, her expression unreadable for a moment, but then her eyes soften, a teasing glint appearing once again. “So, you do care about me after all, huh?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but a smile sneaks onto your face as you do. “Well, maybe a little bit,” you admit, your tone light, though there’s a warmth in your words that’s unmistakable.

Jimin grins, her confidence returning in that familiar, infectious way. “I knew it. Knew you’d come around eventually.”

You shake your head, amused but undeniably touched by the way she’s trusting you enough to let her guard down. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughs, the sound echoing over the stream, but there’s a softness in her gaze as she looks at you, a gratitude that needs no words.

--

The steady flow of the stream had guided you both along as the day stretched on, the warm sun hanging in the sky. After hours of trekking through the dense jungle, you and Jimin stumbled upon a small, secluded cave hidden behind a waterfall. The perfect spot to rest for a while.

Jimin, ever the optimist, was quick to suggest a little fun, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What do you say we jump into the waterfall, clothes and all?" she asked, grinning at you. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical at first, but the heat of the jungle and the lure of the cool water soon won you over.

You both stripped off your outer layers and leapt into the waterfall, laughing as the cold water hit your skin, splashing around in the flow of the rushing water. It was a strange freedom, something raw and invigorating, and for a few moments, you forgot about being lost in the jungle. But all too soon, the playful atmosphere shifted when you noticed the darkening sky.

"Uh-oh," Jimin said, squinting upwards. "That doesn't look good."

The rain began as a light drizzle, but it quickly turned into a downpour. Cold water, mixed with the chill of the air, hit your skin like little needles, and you both scrambled out of the waterfall, soaked to the bone. You rushed to the cave you’d spotted earlier, dripping wet as you sought refuge from the increasingly heavy rain.

Inside the cave, Jimin let out a loud, exaggerated groan as she shook her hair, spraying droplets everywhere. “Well, this is fun. I don’t think we planned for a jungle rainstorm.”

You glanced back at her, your teeth chattering. The temperature had dropped significantly, and it was clear you both needed to find a way to warm up. You quickly scanned the cave. “At least we’re out of the rain now,” you said. “Let’s get a fire going.”

Jimin nodded eagerly, and while you went about gathering some leaves and kindling for a makeshift bed and warmth, she started fiddling with a pile of sticks, trying to get a fire started. You both worked together in silence, each of you grateful for the brief respite. The rain continued to pound against the cave’s entrance, but you were safe for the moment.

As Jimin finally managed to start a fire, the warmth from the crackling flames began to feel like a blessing against the chill of the rain. You huddled near the fire, your clothes drenched and your body still shivering.

Jimin, clearly cold but still determined to keep up her playful attitude, shot you a mischievous grin. "So, what now? Should we just sit here and freeze, or...?"

You gave her a dry look. "I don’t know, Jimin. What do you suggest?"

Her grin widened, and she quickly looked around the cave. "Well, you mentioned getting warm earlier, right?" She raised an eyebrow at you, a glint of humor in her eyes. "How about we take off these wet clothes, let them dry by the fire, and maybe... cuddle to keep each other warm?"

Your breath hitched at her words, a mixture of surprise and something else fluttering in your chest. She was joking, right?

But Jimin, ever confident, started tugging at the hem of her shirt as if it was the most casual thing in the world. You blinked, flustered, unsure of what to do. "Wait—what are you doing?" you asked, voice coming out a little higher than you intended.

Jimin paused and glanced at you, confusion crossing her features. "What? You said we should get warm." She shrugged, unfazed, and continued to pull her wet shirt over her head. "Might as well make it efficient, right?"

Your eyes widened. "But... I—" You quickly averted your gaze, suddenly embarrassed. You hadn't expected her to take your suggestion so seriously. Still, as you glanced back, you couldn't help but notice how her well-defined back muscles flexed as she stripped off her shirt, leaving her in just her soaked pants.

Your heart was racing. You felt your cheeks flush as you awkwardly looked around the cave, trying to avoid looking directly at her. "Are you—uh—sure about this?" you asked, unsure of what was happening.

Jimin, now only in her underwear, was looking at you with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Come on, you’re acting like this is something weird," she teased, her voice light and flirtatious. "We’re stranded in the jungle, remember? Might as well make the most of it."

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous this situation was, but then again, you had to admit that you were both soaked and freezing. And... well... the idea of getting warm didn't seem all that terrible.

With a heavy sigh, you reached for the hem of your own wet shirt, deciding to go along with it. As you pulled it over your head and joined her in your underwear, you could feel your face burning hotter.

When you were both down to your underwear, Jimin laid down next to the makeshift bed you had put together with the leaves. The warmth of the fire cast a soft glow over the cave, making everything feel more intimate.

"Come on," Jimin said softly, patting the space next to her. "It's more comfortable here. Let’s just rest for a bit, yeah?"

You stared at her for a moment, trying to keep your composure, but there was something in her gaze that made your heart flutter. The silence between you felt charged, the space around you suddenly too small.

You slowly lowered yourself next to her, lying on your side, your eyes never leaving hers. The tension in the air was thick, the distance between you both a mere inch or two.

Jimin’s hand reached over to gently touch your waist, her fingertips grazing your skin. You inhaled sharply at the contact, a shiver running through you, though not from the cold. Her touch was warm, and it sent a jolt of heat through your body.

Without thinking, your hand moved to her cheek, brushing a loose strand of wet hair behind her ear. Her breath caught slightly at the soft gesture, and the closeness between you grew undeniable.

"Hi," she whispered softly, her voice barely more than a breath. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing.

"Hi," you whispered back, your voice trembling just a little.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other, neither of you daring to move. But then, Jimin’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, drawing you even closer. Your hand instinctively found its way to the side of her face, your fingers lightly tracing her jaw.

And then, without a word, your lips met in a soft, hesitant kiss. The feeling of her lips against yours, warm and tender, made everything else disappear. The fire crackled behind you, but in this small, cozy cave, with the rain still pouring outside, all that mattered was the shared breath and the connection between you.

It was slow at first, a testing kiss, but the warmth between you grew with each passing second. You could feel her hand gently pressing at your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and the tension that had been building for so long finally began to unravel.

She pushed you into your back, getting on top of you, her hands gripped your waist tighter, while yours moved from her cheeks to grip her hair, tugging it as you moaned into her mouth. She took the opportunity and slipped her tongue, rubbing it against yours.

Jimin pulled away, breathing heavily as she looked into your eyes. “Is this ok?” She panted. You nodded, pulling her back into a bruising kiss. Her hands moved down to your thighs, making your legs wrap around her waist, and moved her head down, leaving open, wet kisses on your neck and collarbones. She reached up, making you arch your back so that she could unfasten your bra, and you did the same as well. With one hand, she played with one of your breasts, while she took the other into her mouth, sucking and biting your nipple.

You whined, arching your back again and pulling her even closer to you. Jimin’s other hand moved downwards once more, playing with the strap of your panties. She looked up at you with hooded eyes, asking for permission. You whimpered and nodded, making her move your panties down. She kissed down the valley of your breasts and stomach, stopping at your chore.

Jimin breathed in and moaned. “You smell so good.” She whispered, and gave your clit a quick swipe with her tongue, making you let out a loud moan, with one hand you gripped her hair, while the other grabbed at whatever you could find in the ground.

Without wasting more time, Jimin dived in, eating you out as if you were her last meal. Her tongue moved in and out of your pussy while simultaneously sucking on your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Jimin!” You screamed out, feeling in cloud nine. She hummed into your core, making you shudder with pleasure. Your moans sounded louder and louder each time, but when Jimin shoved in two fingers, you let out a gasp turned moan. She was good. Too good.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Jimin.” You whimpered out, feeling your orgasm building up. She pulled away for a second, still having two fingers inside you while her thumb circled the 8 figure on your clit.

“Come for me, baby. Show me how good you feel.” She encouraged. Your back arched once more, letting out a pornographic moan as you felt the tightening on your stomach snap, and you came.

You only saw white for a minute, trying to calm down your breathing, twitching from time to time as Jimin cleaned you up with her tongue.

Jimin sat up on her legs for a second, looking at you. She thought you looked beautiful like that. Your eyes that were half closed in euphoria, your chest heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath, your body in a thin sheet of sweat, that glistened with the light of the fire. You looked stunning in her eyes.

After seeing that you had managed to catch your breath, Jimin grabbed one of your legs, putting it up on her shoulder, she slotted the other between hers, both your clits touching. Both of you moaned at the feeling, and she started to grind against you. The feeling of your cores together made you let out the loudest moan again.

“Hmm, does that feel good?” Jimin teased, a smirk on her face as she looked you in the eyes. You nodded, blushing as you put a hand over your eyes. She had an intense look in her eyes making you shy. “Come on now, darling. Don’t hide that beautiful face from me.” She cooed, her hand that wasn’t gripping your ankle moved to grab your wrist. “Be a good girl for me and keep those eyes open, ok?”

You were sure that the moan you let out shook all the animals outside from how loud it was. You looked at her, the way her well defined abdomen flexed everytime she thrusted forwards, how her eyebrows furrowed with concentration, how hot the small grunts that left her lips were. God.

“I’m-I’m coming again, Jimin.” You managed to whine out, but she shook her head in disagreement.

“Wait for me, my love. Let’s come together.” She panted out, grinding against you even faster. You nodded and your eyes closed in concentration, trying not to come just by the nickname. “I’m so close, baby, so so close.”

You sobbed in pleasure, not knowing how much longer you could hold on to. “Please, Jimin. I can’t do it anymore.”

“Come baby, come for me.” She moaned, and grinded even harder. With a last moan, you let go, Jimin close behind you. Your mind was in a haze, you couldn’t even think. Jimin rode both of you out of your orgasms. Once you whined from sensitivity, she let go of you leg gently and looked down at the mess.

With her two middle fingers, she reached down and cooped up some of your mixed juices, putting them in her mouth while looking you in the eyes. She let out a moan at the taste. “Stick your tongue out.” She demanded.

Once you did, she leaned down and took it into her mouth, sucking it. You moaned at the lingering taste of both your cums combined. Once she pulled away she kissed your forehead. 

“Tired?” She asked you, her hand running through your messy hair. You nodded, feeling your eyelids get heavier at the feeling. “Ok, let’s sleep.”

The sound of rain falling and thunder lulled both of you to sleep, with your head on her chest and her arms around your waist in a protective manner.

--

The morning after the storm was damp and heavy, the jungle floor slick with mud and puddles, making every step feel like a chore. You and Jimin trudged along the barely-there path, both of you weary from the days spent navigating this unyielding wilderness, definitely not from last night. For a while, the only sounds were the soft squelch of mud beneath your shoes and the distant calls of unseen birds echoing through the trees.

Jimin, as always, was beside you, humming to herself, seemingly unfazed by the worsening situation. It was beginning to wear on you—the endless walking, the uncertainty of your location, the dampness of your clothes clinging to you—and the fact that despite your efforts, you still had no idea how to get out of the jungle. The sun was sinking lower, casting an orange glow across the trees, and there was no sign of civilization in sight.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, pushing your hair out of your face in frustration. "This is ridiculous."

Jimin shot you a playful glance. "What’s up? Did the jungle get to you?" she teased, stepping over a fallen branch as though it were nothing.

"It's not funny, Jimin," you snapped, your temper fraying at the edges. "We’ve been walking for hours and have no clue where we are. You keep getting distracted and we’re still nowhere closer to finding a way out!"

Her smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, it’s like Jumanji. If we make it to the top and scream ‘Jumanji,’ I’m sure we’ll be out of here in no time!" she joked, her voice light.

You stared at her, exasperated. "This isn’t a joke, Jimin. This is real. We’re lost. We don’t have food. It’s starting to get dark. And you—" You paused, your frustration taking over. "You keep acting like everything’s fine when it’s not."

The air between you thickened. Jimin didn’t respond immediately, her eyes flicking away from yours. You knew she was trying to deflect the tension, but it wasn’t working. She had always been like this—clumsy, absent-minded, carefree, but in moments like these, it just seemed like she wasn’t taking things seriously enough. The pressure of being stuck here, in this place that felt so endless and uncertain, was wearing you thin.

For a moment, Jimin remained quiet, and the teasing, playful energy around her slowly faded. You didn’t know why it felt like such a weight, but it did. Then, Jimin’s voice broke the silence, softer than usual.

"I’m sorry," she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "I know you’re frustrated. I’ve just been trying to make it fun, y’know? But... I guess I’ve been making it worse."

You looked at her, surprised by the shift in her attitude. There was no usual wink, no teasing smile, just a genuine sadness in her eyes.

She met your gaze, her expression unreadable. "I didn’t mean to make it harder for you. I know you’re trying to stay calm and figure things out. I’m... I’m sorry."

Your chest tightened, the anger you’d felt slipping away as quickly as it had come. You took a deep breath, realizing that, maybe, you were just as much to blame for the tension between you two. You hadn’t meant to snap at her like that. She was trying, in her own way, and it had been a long, exhausting day for both of you.

You sighed, your gaze softening. "No, Jimin, it’s not just you," you admitted. "I’m just... really frustrated. And scared, honestly. I don’t want to be lost here forever. I’m just... worried, okay?"

Jimin stayed quiet for a long time, her eyes searching your face. The tension in the air seemed to melt, replaced by something softer, something vulnerable. She gently nudged your arm with her shoulder, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"You know, if I had to be stuck with anyone in the jungle, I’m glad it’s you," you said, your voice quieter, more sincere. "I might be mad at the situation, but... I’m glad it’s you here with me."

Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with warmth. "I’m glad it’s you too," she murmured, her voice small but genuine.

You hesitated, then spoke again, a little more quietly this time. "I was... worried last night didn’t mean anything to you," she confessed, her voice a little shaky. "I was just so scared of—well, you know, how things could change after that."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your cheeks heated up. You hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not like this. You had your own fears, your own doubts. You thought she might have been joking, but hearing her voice crack like that made everything feel too real, too vulnerable.

"I don’t think you’re stupid for thinking that," you said softly, glancing down at your feet. "It did mean something to me. A lot, actually."

Jimin’s eyes searched your face, as if looking for any hint of truth. When she didn’t find any signs of you lying, she relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping as if a weight had been lifted. You could see her visibly exhale, the tension that had been in her body fading.

"I just—" You felt a lump form in your throat. "I’m just scared of not being found, you know? Not knowing if we’ll ever get out of here... It’s overwhelming."

Jimin’s gaze softened, her lips curling into a small smile. "I get it. I’m scared too. But hey," she said, nudging your shoulder with hers again, "we’re together. And I’m not leaving you."

You met her eyes, the sincerity in them reaching deep into your chest. "Thanks, Jimin," you murmured, feeling your heart swell with something more than just gratitude.

She smiled again, a little more teasing now, but the warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. "Of course," she said, "I’m your jungle guide, remember?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and you grabbed her hand, interlocking fingers. Both of you walked onward, a little closer, a little more at peace with the chaos around you.

--

As dusk fell, the jungle’s colors softened, bathed in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. Jimin crouched beside a small, flickering fire, carefully arranging a modest “feast” she’d put together from whatever she’d managed to gather that day. She’d scoured nearby bushes for a handful of berries, found a few edible roots, and portioned out the last bits of snacks left from their supply. Despite the meager offerings, she presented them with a proud little smile.

You sat nearby, watching her in silence, and noticed the nervous flicker in her gaze when she glanced your way. She was clearly trying her best, and for a moment, the effort she’d gone to melted away some of your lingering frustrations from the day.

“Alright,” she announced, brushing her hands off and setting her makeshift ‘spread’ in front of you, “it’s not exactly a gourmet meal, but I’d say it’s a fitting peace offering. What do you think?”

You couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. The gesture was sweet, in the end. “I think it’s… perfect,” you said with a chuckle, letting a bit of warmth slip into your tone. “As far as jungle dining goes, you really went all out.”

Jimin sat down across from you, her expression softening. “I know I’m not the easiest to be around sometimes,” she admitted, scratching the back of her head, “and I definitely didn’t make things easier by getting us lost out here. So… I just wanted to say I’m sorry, for real.”

You met her gaze, and something about the sincerity in her eyes stirred something in you—a tug of warmth, a release of the tension that had been building between you both.

“Jimin… thank you,” you murmured, looking down at the ‘feast’ she’d prepared. “Honestly, even though you can drive me up a wall… I’m glad you’re here. I’m not sure I’d be handling all this as well on my own.”

Her face lit up at your words, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I knew it,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “You like having me around, admit it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Fine,” you said, pretending to be reluctant. “Maybe you’re not completely unbearable.”

She chuckled, reaching over to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, her fingers lingering against your cheek just a second longer than necessary. Her smile softened.

The silence stretched, comfortable yet charged. You could feel her gaze locked onto you, tracing the gentle lines of your face, and your breath hitched slightly as her hand slowly dropped from your cheek. She leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours, and you found yourself drawn closer, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the warmth of her breath.

Under the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the trees, her lips met yours, gentle at first. You leaned in, your hands coming up to rest on her shoulders, pulling her just a bit closer. She responded, her lips pressing more firmly against yours as the kiss deepened, the world around you melting into the quiet hum of the night.

When you finally pulled back, your faces still inches apart, you found yourself smiling, cheeks flushed. Jimin’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight, her playful expression gone, replaced by something tender.

“Well…” she whispered, breathless and smiling. “Guess it’s official—you’re stuck with me.”

--

The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the makeshift camp as night settled in. You and Jimin sat close to the flames, the night air cool but comfortable. The silence between you was soft, contemplative, as if both of you sensed there was more to say but weren’t sure where to begin.

Jimin leaned back, stretching her legs toward the fire, her shoulder brushing against yours. She let out a deep sigh and glanced over at you, her expression thoughtful. “You know… there aren’t many people I’d want to be stuck with out here,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But I think… I’m pretty lucky it’s you.”

You felt your cheeks warm as she looked at you, her gaze steady and sincere. “Really?” you murmured, tilting your head as you studied her face. “I thought I was the one lucky to be stuck with you.”

Jimin chuckled, shaking her head. “I know I joke around a lot, and I know I’m kind of… well, clumsy and all over the place. It’s hard to be serious about stuff. But with you… I feel like I don’t have to pretend to be anything else. I can just be… me.”

Her words settled around you, stirring something warm in your chest. “I get that,” you admitted softly, surprised at how natural it felt to open up to her. “I think I’ve always been so focused on keeping it together, on being the responsible one… I sometimes forget to let my guard down.” You looked down, feeling a little exposed but relieved to finally voice what you’d held back.

Jimin nodded, a sympathetic look crossing her face. She reached out, brushing her fingers gently over the back of your hand. Her touch was light, but it sent a soft shiver down your spine, a reminder of how much closer you both had become over the past few days. “Then maybe we’re both learning how to be ourselves a little better,” she murmured. “Together.”

Without thinking, you slid your hand over hers, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. Jimin looked down at your hand covering hers, a small smile spreading across her face. “Guess we make a pretty good team, huh?” she said, leaning into you a little.

You nodded, your voice quiet but sure. “Yeah… we do.”

The conversation drifted on, each of you sharing small pieces of yourselves, moments and memories that you hadn’t told anyone else. The firelight flickered, illuminating the soft expressions on both your faces, the shared laughter, and the subtle way Jimin’s hand remained in yours, never breaking contact.

As the night grew late and the fire burned low, Jimin let out a small yawn, stretching her arms overhead before lying back on the ground beside you. She looked up at you, patting the spot next to her, and you lay down as well, feeling her warmth radiate beside you as the cool night air settled in.

Without a word, Jimin draped her arm over you, pulling you close as you shifted into her embrace. Her fingers brushed softly over your back, a soothing rhythm that matched the steady beat of her heart against yours. “This okay?” she whispered, her voice soft.

You nodded, leaning your forehead against her shoulder. “Yeah,” you murmured, your own arm slipping around her waist. “This is perfect.”

Jimin’s fingers traced lazy circles along your back as you lay together, her touch warm and comforting. The night sounds of the jungle surrounded you both, but for the first time since you’d arrived, you felt completely safe, anchored by her presence. The quiet grew deeper, words fading away as you settled into the warmth of her embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

For a moment, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, and you felt her arms tighten around you, as if she were trying to keep you close even in sleep. A small smile tugged at your lips as you relaxed into her touch, letting the sense of comfort and understanding wash over you.

And in that moment, there was no fear, no frustration—only the steady warmth of her arms around you as sleep gently pulled you both into its embrace.

--

The sun was barely filtering through the dense canopy as you and Jimin carefully trekked deeper into the jungle, pushing past vines and thick vegetation that seemed to cling to every step. After the peaceful closeness of last night, the silence between you was comfortable, each of you sharing the occasional smile as you moved along. But as the hours stretched on, an uneasy feeling began to settle in the pit of your stomach. It was quieter than usual, the normal jungle sounds muffled, and every shadow seemed to stretch just a little longer than before.

You slowed down, glancing nervously over at Jimin, who seemed oblivious as she hummed a tune under her breath, her usual upbeat self. “Do you hear that?” you whispered, stopping in your tracks. Jimin halted beside you, looking around as she tilted her head. “Hear what?”

But before you could answer, a low, growling sound rumbled from somewhere close by. You both froze, every muscle tensing as the growl echoed through the dense trees. Slowly, you turned toward the direction of the sound, and there, partially hidden in the shadows, was a large, sleek figure—a wild cat, its intense eyes fixed right on the two of you.

“Jimin,” you whispered, barely able to breathe. She instinctively moved in front of you, her arm stretched protectively, her body suddenly rigid with tension. “Stay behind me,” she murmured, never taking her eyes off the wildcat.

Without warning, the animal lunged. Your stomach dropped as you both scrambled to dodge it, stumbling backward. “Run!” Jimin yelled, grabbing your hand and pulling you along the jungle path as you both broke into a desperate sprint. You could hear the wildcat’s low growls and snapping branches behind you, its chase relentless as it closed in, and a surge of pure terror shot through you.

Jimin kept a tight hold on your hand, leading you down a narrow path through the trees. But in her haste, she tripped over a root, sending you both sprawling forward. You hit the ground hard, leaves and dirt scraping against your skin as you fought to stand, the wildcat’s growls now terrifyingly close. Just as you struggled up, you felt its claws brush past your leg, inches from grabbing hold. Heart pounding, you staggered back, feeling yourself shake from the close call.

In a surge of determination, Jimin grabbed a large branch off the ground and turned to face the animal, her eyes fierce despite the fear evident in them. “Come on, you overgrown housecat!” she shouted, her voice wavering slightly. She swung the branch as the wildcat lunged again, managing to hit it hard across the side. The animal yelped in pain and backed off, momentarily stunned but still watching you both with menacing eyes.

With a quick glance back at you, Jimin picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it with all her strength, catching the wildcat square on the nose. The animal growled and hissed, finally retreating into the shadows, its eyes glinting as it slinked back into the dense jungle.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, both breathing hard as you processed what just happened. Your body was shaking, your hands scraped and sore, but the sight of Jimin, fiercely protective and standing between you and the wildcat, grounded you.

“Are you okay?” she asked, turning to you, her eyes softening in concern as she took in your frightened expression and the small cuts on your arms and legs.

You managed a shaky nod, trying to keep the trembling in your voice under control. “I—I think so,” you said, exhaling deeply. “But that was too close.”

Jimin’s shoulders dropped in relief, her face breaking into a small, reassuring smile as she reached over, gently brushing a stray leaf out of your hair. “Good… I thought I was going to lose you back there,” she admitted softly, her tone far more serious than usual.

“I thought I was a goner,” you replied, half-laughing as the tension finally started to ease. “And here I was thinking you’d be the one I’d need to protect.”

Jimin chuckled, her gaze warm as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Guess I just couldn’t let anything happen to my favorite jungle companion,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “Annoying as I am, I like having you around.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “I don’t know how to say this,” you began, your tone half-teasing, “but I’m actually… impressed.”

“Is that so?” she smirked, her playful demeanor returning as she leaned in close, her eyes searching yours. “Then let’s call it even—today, you get to be the damsel in distress, and I’ll be your knight in shining armor.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You were clumsy the entire way, and yet here we are. So maybe I do need you around after all.”

Jimin’s expression softened, and she brushed her fingers across your cheek. “Well, good, because I’m not planning on going anywhere without you.”

--

The jungle was surprisingly quiet that night, the hum of insects and occasional rustle of leaves blending into a gentle symphony that seemed to wrap you and Jimin in its embrace. The fire crackled low between you, casting soft shadows over her face as you both settled into a rare moment of calm after the chaos of the past few days. You glanced at Jimin, who was lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the flames. She looked different in this quiet moment, more grounded, and something in your chest tightened at the sight.

The words lingered on the edge of your mind, hesitant to be spoken, but you found yourself breaking the silence. "Jimin," you began, voice soft but steady. She looked up, her eyes meeting yours, and the warmth in her gaze somehow made you bolder. "I didn’t think I’d be saying this, but... I’ve actually grown to like being around you."

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, a slow smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Really now?" she said, her voice soft but playful. She shifted a bit closer, her fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent a small thrill up your spine. “Are you saying I’ve somehow charmed you with all my clumsiness and terrible sense of direction?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks warming under her amused stare. “I guess that’s one way to put it,” you mumbled, struggling to maintain your composure. “It’s… been nice to have you around, I guess. Even if you almost got us killed a few times.”

She laughed, the sound rich and comforting. “I like having you around too,” she said, her voice softening. Her fingers lingered over yours, almost testing the waters, and then she gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And for the record, if I got us lost just so we’d end up on this little adventure together, I think it was worth it.”

You snorted, unable to hide your smile. “Oh, so this was all part of your elaborate plan, was it?”

“Absolutely.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a glint of sincerity in her eyes that caught you off guard. She shifted even closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “So… does that mean I’ve earned a second date after all?”

You felt a jolt run through you at her words, warmth pooling in your stomach as you tried to hold back a smile. “A second date?” you echoed, the words a bit flustered as you met her gaze. “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a first date, Jimin.”

She tilted her head, grinning mischievously. “Well, if it was, then I’d say it was pretty memorable.” Her gaze grew a bit more intense, and she leaned in, her face mere inches from yours. “But if you don’t see it that way, maybe I should’ve taken it slower with you. Didn’t know you were the type to jump right to…” She trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

You felt your cheeks heat up, caught completely off guard by her boldness. “That was… different,” you stammered, struggling to keep your cool under her teasing gaze. “I don’t usually… it’s not…”

Jimin chuckled softly, her hand tightening around yours. “Relax,” she whispered, her tone gentler now. “I’m just messing with you.” She brushed her thumb over your knuckles, her eyes soft as she studied your face. “But, for what it’s worth… I’m glad we ended up here together.”

The vulnerability in her voice made you pause, your heart skipping a beat as you took in the expression on her face—open, genuine, and maybe even a little bit nervous. The same feeling settled in your own chest, the realization that you didn’t just enjoy Jimin’s company; you genuinely liked her, maybe more than you’d admitted to yourself.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in silence, your hands still intertwined. The air felt heavy with unsaid words, the jungle around you somehow amplifying the weight of the moment. Slowly, you leaned forward, your face so close to hers that you could see the faint rise and fall of her breathing.

And then, with a soft, nervous laugh, you whispered, “So… maybe a second date wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Jimin’s eyes sparkled, her smile widening as she brought your hand to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she murmured, her voice filled with warmth

--

The morning light cut through the dense canopy, its warmth a reminder that you had somehow survived yet another night in the wild. Every muscle in your body ached, and a strange, bittersweet quiet hung between you and Jimin as you packed up the small camp. Last night had been a whirlwind of relief, confessions, and laughter—and though you hadn’t said it out loud, part of you dreaded leaving the small, strange world the two of you had created here.

As you pushed forward, both of you moving slower than the past days, Jimin kept glancing back at you. You caught her eye more than once, and each time she’d flash you a small, encouraging smile, the kind that made your heart race no matter how many times you saw it. The silence between you was comfortable, weighted only by the feeling that you were nearing the end of something beautiful and rare.

Just as you were beginning to think the forest would stretch on forever, you heard it. A distant, rhythmic thump. Jimin stopped mid-step, her eyes widening as she turned to you, her face a mixture of disbelief and hope.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You strained to listen, feeling the pulse of the sound reverberate through the trees. And then it hit you—a helicopter. A real, tangible reminder that the world beyond the jungle hadn’t forgotten you. Relief flooded your chest, and Jimin let out a breathless laugh, her eyes shining as she grabbed your hand.

“Come on!” she exclaimed, pulling you toward an open clearing she’d spotted nearby.

You stumbled together, tripping over roots and branches in your haste until you both broke free from the tree cover. Together, you waved your arms, shouting and hoping with all your heart that the search team would see you. The helicopter seemed to pause, and then it began circling lower. Jimin’s face broke into a grin, and she tightened her grip on your hand, shaking it slightly as if you were sharing a private celebration.

"We’re going home," she whispered, her voice full of awe and gratitude. But as the sound of the helicopter grew louder, the realization hit you both that this—this strange, shared adventure—was about to become a memory.

Jimin’s smile softened, and her eyes met yours with an intensity that sent a shiver through you. She looked at you like she was memorizing every detail, every freckle, and every line. “Guess this is it,” she murmured, a note of wistfulness in her voice. “Our little jungle getaway is officially over.”

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “Yeah… guess we’re going back to reality.” It sounded strange to say it out loud, as if speaking it made the end more real.

She lifted her hand to your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin with a gentleness that made your heart twist. “Reality isn’t so bad, though, is it?” she murmured, a teasing glint breaking through her serious expression. “Besides… I think we still owe each other a real first date. You know, with less mud and maybe a shower?”

You laughed, a small, shaky sound that was half relief, half longing. “Deal,” you said, voice soft but sure. “But no jungle hikes, please.”

Jimin let out a small laugh, her gaze never leaving yours. “No jungle hikes,” she promised, though her smirk suggested that she’d find another way to keep you on your toes. She held onto your hand a moment longer, thumb brushing over your knuckles as if she, too, was reluctant to let go. So she didn’t, she pulled you closer and kissed you hard and deep, full of emotions. She beamed at you once you both pulled away, making you break out in a grin of your own, happy evident in both your eyes.

The helicopter hovered just overhead, its blades kicking up a fierce wind that whipped through the trees and pulled you both back to the present. The rescue crew lowered a ladder, and one of them gestured for you to climb. Jimin gave your hand a final squeeze, releasing you with a soft smile.

“After you,” she said, a hint of playfulness slipping back into her voice, but her eyes were full of something deeper—something that made your heart skip a beat.

Climbing the ladder, you stole a glance down to see her watching you with a wistful smile, her gaze filled with promises. And as she climbed up behind you, the roar of the helicopter above you and the rush of wind around you, you felt a pang of something bittersweet. It was over. No more snakes, no more wildcats, no more berries; for a while at least.

By the time you settled into the helicopter, you were both quiet, letting the weight of everything that had happened sink in. Jimin’s hand found yours again as the helicopter lifted, squeezing it with a gentle reassurance. As the jungle began to shrink below you, you realized that even though you were leaving it behind, the closeness you’d found here wouldn’t fade.

Jimin turned to you as you neared the edge of the jungle, her voice barely audible over the helicopter's hum. "Maybe reality can be our next adventure," she said, her eyes bright with that familiar spark.

--

The fluorescent lights hummed softly above you, the steady buzz filling the otherwise quiet lab as you wrapped up your final tasks of the day. The sterile, clinical atmosphere seemed like a lifetime away from the jungle you’d left behind only a week ago. Your heart still carried the echoes of that wild, exhausting adventure—the adrenaline of survival, the closeness you’d shared with Jimin, and the overwhelming emotions that came with it. It was all so vivid in your mind, impossible to erase, and sometimes, it felt like you could still hear the rustling leaves, feel the humidity on your skin, and even catch a glimpse of Jimin’s teasing smile.

“Hey, got a minute?” Jimin’s voice broke through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. You looked up to find her leaning casually against the doorframe, her usual confidence on display, but with an unmistakable softness in her eyes. She was wearing her usual jeans and t-shirt, but somehow she seemed different—less like the clumsy, adventurous woman you had gotten to know in the jungle, and more like the person who had somehow wormed her way under your skin.

You smiled at the sight of her, your pulse picking up despite your best efforts to remain composed. “Yeah, what’s up?” You didn’t need to ask—it was obvious that she was here for something, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was on her mind. After everything that had happened, things felt... different between the two of you.

Jimin stepped further into the lab, her hands slipping into her pockets as she walked toward you. “I was just thinking…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to the floor for a moment as she scratched the back of her neck. “You know, we never actually got around to that second date.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Second date?” The idea felt almost surreal, considering everything that had happened. But here she was, standing before you, asking for something as normal as dinner. You tried not to think too much about how quickly your heart began to race.

She nodded, her grin widening. “Yeah. I mean, I know we were kind of busy—what with all the, you know, being stuck in the jungle and running from wildcats—but I figured since we’re back to regular life now, we should give this whole ‘date’ thing another shot. A real one this time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her suggestion. “You’re sure you’re not just trying to make up for all the times you almost got us both killed in the jungle?”

Jimin made an exaggerated offended face, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “Hey, that’s unfair. I was—” She paused, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “—a brave and fearless leader. You were the one who didn’t trust me with the map.”

“Trust you? You were reading the map upside down!” you shot back, unable to keep the grin off your face. There was something about her that made it impossible to stay annoyed for long. Even now, when things were back to normal, the memory of her teasing and her warmth still lingered in the air.

“Alright, alright, you’ve made your point,” Jimin said, shaking her head with a grin. “But seriously. What do you think? How about that second date? No wild animals, no getting lost—just you and me, a nice dinner, and the chance to actually talk without worrying about survival.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, an unfamiliar but welcome feeling. You’d spent so many days feeling frustrated and confused about how close you’d gotten to Jimin, how you felt drawn to her despite the clashing parts of your personalities. But here she was, asking for something real. You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your stomach as you thought about it.

You leaned back against the desk, trying to appear nonchalant despite the growing warmth in your chest. “You really think dinner’s going to make up for the chaos of the past week?” you teased, but there was a softness to your tone that betrayed how much you appreciated her persistence. Despite all the joking, despite how annoyed you’d gotten at times, there was a part of you that had found solace in her presence. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much you wanted to explore this, whatever it was between you.

Jimin’s eyes sparkled. “Well, we don’t have to call it a ‘makeup’ dinner, but yeah… I’d really like to see you outside of that jungle madness. Just us. No distractions. No dangerous animals.” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “Maybe… just a quiet evening with a little less chaos?”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and despite the playful tone, you could sense the sincerity behind them. Jimin had a way of making everything seem lighthearted, even when it mattered most. It wasn’t that she was just carefree; she had this way of carrying the weight of the world lightly, as though nothing could truly bring her down. And you admired that. But there was also something else there, something deeper, hidden behind that playful façade.

“Okay,” you finally said, your voice quieter than you intended, the simple word feeling like it carried so much more weight than it should. “A second date. I think that sounds… nice.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up in delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She seemed genuinely happy, her face breaking into a grin that made your heart skip a beat. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, as if savoring the moment, before her expression softened and she took a step closer.

“So, dinner tomorrow?” she asked, her voice laced with that same playful tone. But this time, there was something more vulnerable about it. Something quieter, more uncertain, as if she wasn’t quite sure what you’d say next.

You nodded, your heart thumping in your chest. “Yeah,” you said, swallowing back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “Dinner tomorrow. Sounds perfect.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to say next. It felt like there was a new energy between you, an unspoken understanding that things were changing. The jungle was behind you, but the feelings you’d shared in those wild days hadn’t gone away. If anything, they were growing stronger.

Then, without warning, Jimin took a small step closer, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch was light but steady, her fingers grazing yours in a way that felt so familiar and yet so new. You felt your breath catch in your throat as she looked at you with those soft, dark eyes of hers.

“I didn’t think I’d miss getting lost in the jungle,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving yours. “But I kind of do.”

You felt a laugh bubble up from your chest, but it was soft, a little breathless. “Yeah, it wasn’t so bad after all,” you replied, the words feeling lighter now that the tension had broken. You felt more at ease, more certain about what you wanted.

You didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, closing the space between you. Her lips were soft, warm against yours, and the kiss was everything you hadn’t known you needed. It was gentle at first, almost tentative, as if both of you were testing the waters, unsure of how to move forward. But as you kissed her again, deeper this time, there was a sweetness to it that made everything feel right. The world outside the lab, outside of everything that had happened, faded into the background.

When you pulled away, you were both breathless, smiles lingering on your lips.

“So… tomorrow, yeah?” Jimin asked again, her voice soft, almost shy now, as if the kiss had made her feel just as vulnerable as you.

You smiled, a little unsure of yourself but more than ready for whatever this new chapter was going to be. “It’s a date,” you whispered.

a/n: tried a new writing style!

[princesskenny1998]

hey can you write a draco malfoy x reader where instances draco is showing signs of softness towards reader? like they aren't close but some students are noticing even the golden trio that he is fond of the reader but reader is oblivious. an example would be reader struggling to carry something to the great hall and draco happen to pass by and help her?

Hello <3

That's a good idea, hope you like it!

Harry Potter | Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor!Reader ~ Helper

It started with small things, too small to be anything but easily overlooked. You’d barely noticed, really, and it was only after Hermione’s nudging that you started to pay attention. But the way Draco Malfoy—the Draco Malfoy, Slytherin prince and known nemesis to all things Gryffindor—acted around you seemed... off. Off, in the sense that he was somehow kind, or at the very least unexpectedly considerate, and in ways that simply didn’t line up with his reputation.

The first time it happened, you’d been balancing a rather tall stack of books, struggling to get them from the library to the Great Hall. You couldn’t see much past the top of the stack, but you were determined to make it without asking for help, ignoring the sore strain in your arms.

“Honestly, Y/N, let me help,” Hermione had tried, reaching out to take some of the books from you.

But you’d waved her off. “I’m fine, really! I can—”

You barely got the words out before colliding with something—or rather, someone. The stack tilted, wobbling, and you braced yourself for the inevitable crash of books spilling all over the floor. But to your surprise, they didn’t fall. Two hands appeared over yours, steadying the pile.

“Careful there, you’re about to topple over,” said a cool voice, and you looked up to find Draco Malfoy staring down at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, caught off guard by the unexpected assistance. You blinked, half-expecting him to make a snide comment, but instead, he adjusted his grip, taking some of the books from the top of the stack without another word.

“Going to the Great Hall?” he asked casually, and when you nodded, he simply fell into step beside you, carrying the books as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hermione, who’d been watching the whole scene with a look of pure bewilderment, fell in on your other side. Once you reached the doors of the Great Hall, Draco handed you back the books, offering you a curt nod before striding off toward the Slytherin table as though nothing strange had happened.

“Did... did Malfoy just help you?” Hermione whispered, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Without insulting anyone?”

“I... guess?” you said, feeling just as baffled as she looked.

But you shrugged it off as a fluke, an unusual but meaningless gesture. After all, this was Draco Malfoy—there was no way he’d actually done it out of kindness.

Yet it kept happening.

The next incident was in Potions, a subject where you usually didn’t mind working on your own. Slughorn had paired you with Draco, a twist of fate that might have been concerning had Draco not been unexpectedly cooperative. As the two of you worked to brew the particularly complex Amortentia potion, you’d reached for the ground rose petals only to find the jar was just out of reach.

Before you could think about grabbing a stool to reach it, Draco was there, his arm stretching over yours to retrieve the jar. He handed it to you without comment, his hand brushing yours for a brief moment. His face betrayed no emotion as he went back to his side of the cauldron, focused as if this were all a matter of simple practicality. You weren’t sure if you imagined it, but there was a gentleness in his movements, a subtle care he didn’t usually show in class.

By the end of the lesson, your potion had turned out perfectly, and Slughorn had even given you both a rare word of approval. As you cleaned up your station, Hermione, who’d been working nearby, gave you a significant look.

��He didn’t seem like his usual self, did he?” she murmured, casting a suspicious glance in Draco’s direction.

“Who, Malfoy?” You shrugged. “I think he just wanted to get a good grade. No big deal.”

But Hermione only narrowed her eyes, as if she could see something you couldn’t. It wasn’t just her, though; Harry and Ron had noticed too. After class, they caught up to you in the corridor, exchanging conspiratorial glances.

“Malfoy was being weirdly decent in there,” Harry remarked. “And not just today. Remember the book incident?”

“Probably trying to mess with you, better be careful,” Ron said, but he sounded uncertain.

You laughed, brushing it off. “You lot are making it sound like there's more to it than there really is. He’s just being his weird Malfoy self.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the strange, unspoken understanding that had begun forming between you and Draco. There were little gestures here and there—moments when he’d pause to hold a door open for you, or when he’d linger just a second too long after handing you a quill you’d dropped. They were subtle things, things that no one else seemed to notice unless they were watching closely. And your friends had certainly started watching closely.

One day in the library, as you were struggling to reach a thick volume on a high shelf, you felt someone’s presence behind you. Expecting it to be Neville or Hermione, you didn’t think twice about it—until a pale hand appeared, effortlessly pulling the book down and holding it out to you.

“Here,” Draco said, his voice soft but unmistakable.

“Oh. Thanks, Malfoy,” you said, surprised yet again. He’d been helping you more often lately, and you couldn’t quite explain why.

He just nodded, his gaze lingering on you a second longer than usual before he turned and walked away. You stared after him, the weight of his glance lingering even after he was gone.

By now, it had become something of a regular occurrence: Draco being unusually helpful or considerate, in ways that left your friends dumbfounded and you more confused than ever. And while you tried to tell yourself it didn’t mean anything, there was a certain look in his eyes, a certain softness in his gaze, that was hard to ignore.

As winter deepened, you found yourself in the courtyard one chilly afternoon, attempting to light a small fire with a charm you hadn’t quite mastered. The wind kept putting it out, and despite several tries, you hadn’t managed to get the flame to last more than a few seconds.

A soft chuckle sounded behind you, and you turned to see Draco leaning against a nearby pillar, watching you with an amused expression.

“You’re going to catch frostbite at this rate,” he said, coming over to stand beside you. “Let me help.”

Before you could protest, he muttered the charm under his breath, and a steady, warm flame flickered to life between his hands. He released it gently, and it floated into the small pile of kindling you’d been working on, crackling into a cozy blaze.

You looked at him, half-grateful, half-bewildered. “Thank you, but…why are you doing this?”

His expression faltered for a moment, the usual mask slipping just slightly. For a second, he looked almost vulnerable, as though he were considering his next words carefully.

“Maybe,” he began slowly, “I don’t have to be the person everyone thinks I am.” His eyes flicked away, and he cleared his throat, his usual guardedness returning. “Anyway, don’t overthink it.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you to stare after him, the warmth of the fire mingling with the confusing, lingering warmth in your chest.

By the time spring arrived, it wasn’t just your friends who had noticed Draco’s subtle attentions. Whispers began circulating around the castle. You heard your name linked with his in hushed tones, the rumors painting you as some kind of enigma who’d managed to charm the Slytherin prince himself. You dismissed it all, brushing off the gossip with a laugh. It was Draco, after all; whatever strange kindness he’d shown you, it had to be some fluke.

But your friends were less easily swayed. One evening in the Gryffindor common room, as you were studying with Hermione and Neville while Harry and Ron lounged on the couch nearby, Lavender joined in, and talk turned, inevitably, to Draco.

“I don’t know how you haven’t noticed, Y/N,” Lavender said dreamily. “He’s always watching you in class. It’s almost… sweet.”

“Sweet?” Ron scoffed, though he shot you a curious look. “It’s Malfoy we’re talking about, remember? Are we sure he doesn’t have some hidden agenda?”

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t,” Neville said thoughtfully. “There’s something different in the way he acts around you, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You lot are making way too much of this. Malfoy’s probably just trying to get back at me for some reason. It’s not like he—”

But even as you spoke, you felt a strange flutter in your chest, a flicker of doubt that was hard to shake. Because, deep down, you knew it wasn’t just an act. You’d seen it in his eyes, felt it in those brief, almost tender moments when he’d let his guard down. Draco Malfoy was far more complicated than you’d ever imagined.

Then, one day, everything changed. It was a particularly rough day; you’d been overwhelmed with coursework, stressed over an upcoming exam, and generally exhausted—physically and mentally. You were in the library, nearly on the verge of giving up, when Draco appeared by your side, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You looked up, ready to decline, but something in his expression stopped you. You hesitated, then nodded, and for the next hour, he sat beside you, helping you work through the complex spellwork that had been giving you trouble. There were no biting comments, no sarcasm—just a quiet, unexpected patience that left you feeling disarmed and strangely comforted.

When you finished, he didn’t move away immediately. Instead, he lingered, his gaze searching yours as though he wanted to say something important. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, “I—”

But before he could finish, the clock chimed the late hour, breaking the spell between you. He straightened, his expression closing off as if he’d remembered himself. Without another word, he stood and left, leaving you to sit there, confused and with a thousand questions swirling in your mind.

That night, as you lay awake in your dormitory, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Draco had looked at you—the softness, the uncertainty, the way he’d almost seemed... vulnerable. It was something you’d never associated with him before, and yet it had been there, clear as day.

And you realized, with a dawning, disconcerting clarity, that maybe you’d been oblivious all along.

[dira333]

Mom Friend - Kenma (Angst-ish)

“You don’t love me and I’m being really brave about it.”

-

The air is soft and cool, like a blanket made from silk. You take it as a good sign, smile up at the traffic sign above you like it’s a flower or an ornament. 

How silly that love can make ordinary things bloom.

Tonight you feel good in your clothes. No need to worry about tomorrow. 

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your jacket but you don’t want to pull it out right now. You want to stay in the moment, right here, enjoy that buzzing feeling inside of you.

Maybe tonight, you think. Maybe tonight something will happen.

You’re not insecure, not questioning, not doubting anything. 

Just waiting, patiently, for something that sure will come.

-

You spot him first, head buried in his hoody, eyes on the phone in his hand. 

Knowing Kenma, he’s playing a game to pass the time.

You don’t wave, but keep your eyes on him as you come closer. It’s rare that you get to enjoy that sight for yourself, that you can watch without being watched.

He’s pretty. Always has been, you think, even though you’ve only really had a chance to befriend him lately. But you’ve seen the pictures, and besides, you can’t imagine him being anything but.

Just a few more steps to go but he raises his head and spots you without hesitation, the pupils of eyes growing smaller.

You’ve read about it, you can’t help but think. How the size of one’s pupil tells about their attraction. 

A first seed of doubt begins to sprout but you push it down with a well-practiced smile.

“Hi,” you greet him, your voice weirdly breathless. You’re not that out of shape, he just does that to you. Do you shake his hand? Hug him?

He makes no move to greet you other than a quiet nod so you think that’s it and push down the disappointment. Kenma hugs Hinata. 

Well, everyone hugs Hinata, you tell yourself, and look for something to say.

“Are we early?”

“No,” he dips his nose deeper into his hoody. “Kuroo’s not coming.”

“O-oh,” you pull out your phone to check. He’s right. The message is there, in the group chat. Right below it is another one, from Hinata.

“Can’t make it tonight, sorry guys. Rain check?”

“Should we-?”

“I’m going to watch the movie,” Kenma interrupts you, voice level. He doesn’t sound angry, or annoyed, or even bored, he just… sounds. Is flat the right word for it?

“Okay?”

His eyes, big and round and golden, move toward you and back to the sign above the door. “You can join me if you want.”

-

The movie isn’t bad. You like action movies, even the dumber ones. There’s a reason why Hinata still invites you to these hangouts, after all.

But you know you’re missing a crucial part of knowledge about the game this movie is based on.

There are jokes you don’t get that leave Kenma chuckling to himself and you can’t help but wonder what he thinks of you. Does he know you’re- Well, he has to, right? 

You know he’s a little more on the shy side. Or, not shy, but more… private? 

Maybe this is his way of getting a date with you?

The thought electrifies you.

But no. Kenma’s not acting like a guy on a date. He’s not sharing his food with you, has not even tried to pay for yours or initiate any conversation so far. 

If you’d have to describe it, it would be like… getting to come along with your big brother.

Your face twists into a scowl. That is not the kind of thing you want to associate with Kenma.

-

“Do you wanna eat something?” You ask once you leave the cinema, dust your clothes off and get rid of the last remnants of popcorn and stray skittles. 

Kenma hesitates for a second.

“Yeah, why not?”

You follow him out of the Cinema and down the street.

The wind is soothing on your warm cheeks. A couple walks down the street, facing you. Your heart squeezes tight when the guy swings their joined hands.

As they pass, Kenma steps out of their way, bumping into you. 

He does not apologize.

It feels like a sign. A different one this time.

-

The restaurant is small but private and Kenma finds a booth at the back, orders like someone who’s been here before. You need a little longer to figure out what you want but then there’s nothing else to do but wait.

Kenma pulls out his phone, looks at the unlit screen and puts it face down on the table.

“Do you have a crush on me?”

His voice is even, like he’s reading from the menu and it takes you a second to register the meaning of the words.

Your mouth opens, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

Nonetheless, your silence is answer enough. Your eyes fall back down to the table.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma mutters and there’s almost warmth to his words now.

He says nothing more for a while and you swallow a bout of tears that’s threatening to spill.

Silly you, you think.

Doubts and insecurities raise their ugly heads.

“Kuroo thought you might be into Shouyou,” Kenma starts anew. When you look up he’s staring out the window. “Cuz you’re always mothering him.”

“I’m not-”

“You’re like Kuroo, in that way,” Kenma adds on, as if he’s not hearing you. “Always bothering people. You bring extra water bottles and extra pain killers and a snack in case someone gets hungry and you remind them of their appointments.”

Your fingers clench around the utensils that are useless without any food but you need to hold onto something real if you want to survive this.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Golden eyes turn back to you and you wonder how it has taken you so long to realize that gold is not warm. Gold is a metal, heavy and cold, and not at all made for cuddling.

“Shouyou is my friend,” Kenma points out. “He doesn’t mind being mothered.”

“So?”

“You’d do better with a partner that likes that part of you. We all want-” He stops for a second, the first time you’ve seen him hesitate. “It’s not good if you have to change who you are for a relationship to work.”

“You could have just said you’re not interested,” you point out, petulance winning over the hurt. Or maybe the hurt is triggering it.

Kenma blinks slowly. “I am trying to be a good friend here.”

“Who’s friend?”

He opens his mouth to answer but the food arrives and he pulls back again, stares at you silently, like a cat stalking its prey.

“I’m not good at verbalizing my thoughts,” he begins again when the server has left. “You remind me of Kuroo in some way. I think-” He hesitates again. “If you want a partner that you can mother, you should try dating Shouyou.”

“I don’t want to date Hinata.”

Kenma sighs. “You could try Kuroo but I think-”

Your chopsticks dig into your hands as you interrupt him, pointing them at him like a weapon. “Stop it,” you hiss. “You’re not interested and that’s it. You don’t need to push me into someone else's arms like I’m something too valuable to throw away but not valuable enough to actually cherish.”

His face goes slack. He tries to speak again but you turn your face away and begin eating, stuffing your face with a pace that can’t be healthy but you just want to get out of here, out of this conversation.

Quiet settles. Your cheeks sting as if sensing the coming tears. But you don’t cry.

You finish first and get up, squeezing the handle of your purse so tight in your hand that it hurts. 

“The bill is on me,” you tell Kenma. “Have a good night.”

-

part 2 is coming tomorrow

Taglist: @notsochillnerd

@kaykaystrings @alienaiver @alexxavicry @tsxkishimx @stellar-haikyuu

@fuzztacular (for the angst)

[philosophicalparadox]

Got a Japanese grocery store near me. It IS kept very meticulously neat and orderly, but in a completely different way than what we usually see in the US — the “flow” of foods breaks up differently I guess.

Even so, despite now living on the East coast where literally anything from Japan is easily three to six times the cost as it was in California, many foods are still much cheaper.

And there’s WAY more variety. If you ever wanted to know about 21 different types of edible seaweed, and how to use them, that’s the place to go, and they WONT bankrupt you like a health food store.

The exception is some snack foods and other imports — but largely, the produce in that store actually comes from California; it often says so right on the boxes.

You see, the US has very weird food standards aesthetically, so we import a huge quantity of produce, and export the stuff that’s Ugly or that we just aren’t interested in.

But some of it stays here — and goes principally to markets aimed at minorities.

SO if you actually want to support US agriculture AND get cheap groceries, do absolutely find an Asian or even Hispanic / pretty much any minority market/store. I grew up next to the latter, with a similar butcher shop across the street. It was often times the only way we even could afford produce and meat; neither store was pretty by US standards, but it was INFINITELY better than relying on the quite literally rotten food that came in the food boxes. At some point FREE just gets used as a convenient excuse to dump waste somewhere and make it someone else’s problem; and while we did need to rely on those boxes at times, you bet your ass we nickel and dimed our way into those produce markets and learned to make preserves, because nobody should have to eat f-ing rotting food. But that is another story for another day.

Point is you are doing a lot more good for a lot more people shopping in a store like that than feeding the corporate overlords.

(And for the record, when I say cheaper, which is not a term most Americans associate with Japanese anything, I mean it — a bushel - that is about two pounds- of apples at Acme/safeway is like 4-6 bucks, so 2-3$ a pound. At this particular Japanese and sometimes Korean market, THE SAME APPLES are like 50c- 1.00 a pound, because They’re From The US and often are just not as pretty as ones you’d buy elsewhere. Yeah, you’ll have to cut around some nicks and bruises on that pear (and OMG do they have pears! Like 6 varieties!) but it’s perfectly edible and delicious.

Same goes for herbs. Whole Foods is a freaking rip off selling fresh mint for 2 dollars for like 12 stems. The Japanese market? You can get an entire damn mint plant for that price. Dried spices are sold in bulk like at Winco, from hoppers with bags. You pay by weight, not brand. So you can in fact get more than 6 stamens of Saffron for the 9$ that freakin’ McCormic sells that stuff. (You pay for the glass bottle more than anything).

The ONLY thing that makes this market unappealing to people: They put just about everything they can in Metric. Weights are sold by mg and kilo first; there are numbers that correlate to the respective pound /ounce on some things, and others are just in US imperial like the apples. But if you weigh the spices or pasta or anything like that, you’ll be charged for the metric conversion. Which apparently upsets dumb people who don’t understand that a gram is far more precise than an ounce, and that it keeps them from losing stock too fast since they’re pretty small fish — it’s owned by two people, and staffed by maybe 7 at a time. They don’t get priority on restock.

Anyway, small business grocery = best place to buy food

How to Shop at an Asian (or other ethnic) Grocery Store

Do you live in or near a city in the US?

Need to save some money on groceries?

Might I introduce you to... shopping at the local Asian grocery?

Asian grocery stores aimed at an Asian-American customer base almost always beat the prices of their western (or for-western) counterparts. Often by a significant amount, especially in categories like produce, meat, rice, and spices. Plus in addition to lower prices, you get the satisfaction of supporting a small, local business instead of a larger chain store.

(Note that a lot of this information applies to other ethnic grocery stores as well, but we're using Asian because they're common in many cities, and have particularly good prices on produce.)

But it can be a little bit of a learning curve when you first start to shop at them. This post will give you the information you need to navigate them.

So how do you find a good Asian grocery store?

First, go on google maps and search "grocery".

Note that you are NOT googling "Asian Grocery" or "Cheap Grocery". If you search "Asian Grocery" you will get results for Asian stores marketing toward a western audience, and because of this, will be neat, shiny, and very pricey. If you search "Cheap Grocery" you will get stores marketing themselves as cheap, which generally are only slightly less expensive than their "expensive" counterparts (think Aldi). Okay in a pinch, but you can do better.

Second, look at the pictures of all the stores you can easily get to.

Here's what you want: not a lot of printed ads, pictures of hand-written signs (especially in languages other than English), food in cardboard bins, and you want it to look kind of "junky". Bonus points if you can see prices listed in the pictures or the people shopping there are mostly older, ethnic women.

Third, If you couldn't find anything like this, go on your city's subreddit.

Search "cheap", "cheap grocery" and "expensive grocery". Why "expensive grocery"? Because you want to find people complaining about grocery prices, and you want to see the advice they get. Many times, that advice is Asian or ethnic grocery stores.

If you're still not getting anything, google "[city name] cheap grocery" and "[city name] expensive grocery" (see above). Scroll until you get to FORUMS discussing groceries in your city. You DO NOT want blogs or articles. Again, you're looking at the advice people are given when they complain about grocery prices.

One of the first questions people ask upon walking into an Asian grocery store of the type discussed in this post is:

"Is the food I'm getting here safe to eat?"

The answer is just as safe as anywhere else you might shop.

You're probably used to very clean, pretty, well-lit, well-organized stores. This will probably not be that, but it will be regulated by the same health department that regulates those stores. They are held to the same standards.

It's a lot of work to keep a store looking like a western consumer expects. It's a lot less work (and thus less money) to keep a store looking like an ethnic career housewife or grandmother expects. That is largely where the savings comes from.

What's a good deal at an Asian grocery?

Produce. You're probably used to things like onions and carrots being the cheapest per pound. Here it's going to be greens, apples, pears, radish, cabbage and maybe squash and sweet potatoes. Check unit prices and prepare to try some new things. Also a pound of greens is a LOT of greens. Keep that in mind. Also keep in mind that you might see a few pieces of produce that are bruised or have mold on them. That's okay. Just don't buy those pieces. The rest of the batch is probably fine. Wash produce when you get home if you're concerned, though you should be doing that anyway.

Rice and dry beans. If you like to buy in bulk, you're in luck. Don't expect to walk away with a pound or two of these. They come in 40lb packages. But if you tailor most of your meals around them, those meals will be cheap af. There are also lots of different types of specialty rice if you want to make your own sushi or mochi. Learn how to soak and sprout beans.

Tofu. Tofu is expensive when you buy it at a health food store. It is not when you buy it at an Asian grocery. It probably won't be in pretty packages, but again, cheap is not going to be super pretty.

Meat and fish. Meat is generally going to be cheaper here, though maybe not by as much as the produce is. Pork will probably be your cheapest option. You may also see cuts you don't normally see, like tongue, intestine, liver, kidneys, blood, etc... "Weird," however, does not automatically mean cheap in this context. Check unit prices and prepare to be adventurous. If you don't know what else to do with them, dried fish and animal organs make fantastic stock when boiled.

Spices. Again with the extremely large quantities here. But very inexpensive compared with their western counterparts.

Candy. This makes a great inexpensive gift if you need one, since the candy sold at these stores is fairly exotic for a western audience.

What isn't a good deal at an Asian grocery?

Dairy. This includes fresh milk, butter, cheese, etc... If they have it, it will be very expensive. Consider buying elsewhere.

Eggs. Again, this will probably be as expensive or more than the eggs you could get at a western supermarket.

Snacks. Pre-made items will be expensive in general, even though they may be tempting because they are different from what you are used to and you don't need to learn to cook a new thing. Do your best to avoid these and make your own if you can. If you can't, frozen pork or vegetable dumplings are probably your best bet for a quick meal.

Bread. It's pricey. A lot of Asian cuisines use rice, noodles, or buns for their starch instead of western-style bread. So if you can find it it will often be a novelty item.

What else do I need to know?

It's okay to be overwhelmed by new ingredients. Look up some YouTube videos on how to cook certain ingredients if you're not familiar with them.

These are not supermarkets. They sell food and sometimes the kitchenware (steamers, woks, chopsticks, etc...) needed to cook it. You will probably need to get your soap and household items somewhere else.

Pay in cash if you can. Most of these are very small businesses and paying them cash makes it so they don't need to pay credit card fees. At the very least, make the minimum purchase before paying with a card.

[eunhyuung]

𖦹. “𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆����, 𝐘’𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖?” — (𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐀𝐑)

𖦹. — 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. honestly, he’s never intended for things to turn out this way because as they say—curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it? too bad, he likes what he’s seeing too much, huh? 6.2k words.

𖦹. — 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 . . . bitch boy kylar’s pervasive ways of being an absolute freak, jerking off, scent kink as in the loser disgustingly sniffs at his own pre-cum stained underwear, voyeurism through a screen, unsuspecting camboy! reader (amab) using his favourite fan’s flesh-light, massive parasocial relationship, kylar purely getting off to the mere fantasy of you so lovingly fucking his mouth full and slobbering all over your cock. wow. shit, that’s gross.

𖦹. — 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠? “I think he’s cute, but he’s fucking pathetic. adds to the charm though.”

Undoubtedly, he’s intricately aware of the baseless rumours currently circulating throughout the school due to him. Not that he pays it much mind, as a loner himself—there’s not much that comes forth from uselessly dwelling on ushered statements whispered amongst each nosy student attending the worn establishment.

Especially when he’s grown accustomed to the unfair treatment sent his way, preferring to concentrate on the positive aspects of his measly day-to-day life instead, no matter how minor those details may be. Practically nonexistent in comparison to the absolutely negatives—if anything, but. . . unwavering optimism is a virtue, correct? More or less.

“Did you see him? You’d think he won the goddamn lottery or somethin’—“ One would randomly perk up out of the blue as the other’s words seamlessly tumbled forth from between their lips. “Stop shitting with me. Think that freak has anything to smile about?” And as predictably expected on their part, doubtful silence filled the daunting atmosphere before the overly harsh cackling of laughter soon followed after.

“No way!!”

Right. Hurtful as it may be, wasn’t any less further from the truth to confidently proclaim that Kylar’s life was utter shit from start to finish. From an accumulation of numerous events that notably stemmed from mere bad luck or perhaps, as he so effortlessly believed so himself—a dreadful curse one had so cruelly placed upon him and the rest of his beloved family for. . . God knows what, how would he know anyway? Maybe it was due to an unforgivable sin he’s unknowingly committed in his distant past life or, from sheer, utter hatred on a stranger’s bitter end.

Solemnly beginning with the inexplicable loss of a treasured, cherished childhood friend of, he’d rather not utter the name itself—only to bitterly finish with the concerning changes in his parents questionable behaviour, not to mention the physical morphs in their formerly human appearances. That is, if they’ve managed to retain any semblance of consciousness from their lives previously shared as a family.

And to be honest, it’s a miracle he hasn’t suddenly dropped dead from the sheer amount of stress the outside world brings him. Hurt after hurt, mindless insult after another ruthlessly hurled towards his retreating figure in the school’s stuffy courtyard by snickering classmates.

At times like these, wordlessly thinking back to the gleaming knife occupying the depths of his baggy pocket does somewhat soothe the dull pain aching within his chest.

Somewhat.

Regardless, seething with misery and tainted despair is what he should’ve rightfully remained so, for the entirety of his pathetic life. Least, that was the intended plan on his end. Fortunately, most things don’t ever go as planned in life, do they? And neither was the accidental discovery of your surprising existence, too. One which he repeatedly thanks the divined heavens from above for so generously gracing him with your perfect being—even if not physically there, as you’re merely hidden away behind the greasy, smudged surface of his unprotected, cum-stained screen.

Yeah, he does periodically forget to neatly wipe those unceremonious accidents of his away. . . Mostly the embarrassing bit where the freak is unpredictably shooting forth his fat load all over his tousled bedsheets and of course, his dimly lit, previously discarded phone screen that merely happens to be consequently lying nearby—at the edge of the loner’s unmade bed. Somehow neglecting to absently clean his disorganized room, rotting for none to see due to his inborn laziness or better put, sheer lack of motivation to truly do something about the grimy mess irritably found at his feet.

Crummy wrappers from whatever unhealthy, overly sweetened snack he’s ingested for the day, used socks filled with. . . well, you’d know the typical stereotype of what lonely, unloved boys do in the desolate tranquility of their bedrooms anyway, unwashed clothes laid askew; you name it.

Although, it’s partially your fault for purposefully making your streams so very tempting—practically impossible to stubbornly last till the bitter end if he’s so much as given the slightest glimpse of your pretty cock, mere sound of your wistful sighs and voice carefully articulating his username amongst the hoard of just as eager viewers.

What a shame, he’d just about care more for the dire state of his dirtied room if it meant somehow impressing you in the process. Like the loser would ever be so graciously given the exquisite chance to timidly invite you to his sore excuse of a room, lest he found you for real and, y’know—committed a few illegal acts or two to drag you towards that desired place of his choice. Selfishly kept you to himself for an undetermined amount of time, preferably forever and ever actually. . . !

Oh, he does dearly promise he’d take good care of you. That’s for sure.

Speaking of, he’s always possessed the annoyingly obsessive tendency to easily fall for a fictional character on the other end of a layered screen, but. . . Certainly not like this, no. Since you’re a real, existing person, are you not? A living, breathing human with his own life he’s blissfully unaware of—foreign details and such, are wholly unnecessary to him, because your self is solely what he’s truthfully interested in, really! Sorely convicted no one could ever hope to pitifully understand the true reason as to why he’s been recently sporting that idiotic grin plastered amongst his usually aloof features.

Distractingly sketching more and more admittedly good, yet messy drawings in the private remnants of his notebook’s torn pages. Immediately squeaking at the sudden presence of his english teacher’s. . . what’s-his-name, mister Doren(?) hovering over his hunched shoulders to questioningly quip up as to what may be so important for him to childishly doodle during learning time, huh?

Well, you see—fairly, it’s quite simple, if not entirely self-explanatory when thoroughly observing his recently odd mannerisms and gestures.

Y’see, most would reasonably laugh dead in his face at the sickeningly sweet answer, though what need is there to hide it? It’s evident what the local school’s favourite punching bag has been shockingly struck with. As cheesy as it may be to discreetly gossip amongst one another, the sole undeniable fact that—

“The freak’s obviously in love and crushing on someone or somethin’, no doubt about it. I mean, look at him! He looks like he’s just about ready to float off the earth!!”

“Fuck, don’t word it that way. That’s so fuckin’ gross. Y’a think he actually likes someone—? Like, here? In this school?? Stands no chance. What’s the use of liking ‘em if they’ll run at the sight of you anyway?” Seldomly wrong on that part, there’s no way to precisely tell that identity of yours if your face is disappointingly out of view in each of your films! Therefore, he’d like to take note of it someday, y’know. . . Instead of, ah—humiliatingly jerking off alone to the hazy thought of your faceless body. Not to say, that isn’t disgustingly hot enough on its own. Fucking pervert that he is, plenty to get him off on.

“Hey, now don’t be so mean. He could hear us over there. . . Didn’t you hear what he did to that one girl in class cuz’ she tried to take his shitty sketchbook? Heard she’s stuck in the hospital for a month because of him. Crazy stuff.”

Unsurprisingly so, a scornful pout would’ve expectantly found itself upon his chapped lips at those stray comments if it were any other day of the week. Frustratingly clutching at the worn edges of his school bag hanging limply from his small figure from the seething urge to impulsively retort back. However, what use is there to miserably wallow when your favourite show is bound to showcase itself on screen soon enough? And what he so innocently refers to as some ‘show’ are those naughty streams of yours he’s been regularly keeping up to date with, without missing a single one for that matter—you should be proud of him, really. Is starting soon, as per usual—in about. . . ?

Oh, luckily he’s got plenty of time to wordlessly settle himself in his spacious bedroom before your precious recordings commence. Methodically checking the numbers displayed on his cellphone to indicate the countdown till the sole thing he’s been excitedly looking forward to for the past few, dwindling months, does eventually begin.

Since today is a special day, indeed—is it not?Thoughtlessly humming to himself at the expectant treat patiently awaiting his arrival at home, much to other passerby’s apparent discontent at the rather. . . horrible sound being sung throughout the pathway to his forgotten, desolate manor. Singing melodic notes, especially at the Temple’s choir never was much of his forte for that matter. That’s alright, though! Fortunately enough, he’s confident he can painfully endure anything that this insane town throws at him today. And ‘course, that stupidly includes the dirty looks shot in his direction, too.

Because today. . . today is a special day, yes—he gleefully repeats so, to himself. Y’know, like some maniac.

And akin to how a mechanical key automatically turns itself within the depths of a narrow lock, routine settles in thickly at the back of his mind as his feet instinctively shuffle themselves through the doorway of his beloved house. Less beloved in the sense that it isn’t exactly properly maintained, as obviously proven by the multitude of stains abandoned about upon every wooden surface, it seems. Uneasy floorboards bound to eventually collapse underneath the meager weight of his lanky body, which is a miracle that it hasn’t already by now, actually.

Not to mention, disgraceful cobwebs precariously hanging from below each cornered ceiling, but there still retains a semblance of charm to the place, a little—he thinks. Personally. Majorly due to the familiarity it instills within his boyish brain and it being his lone sanctuary where he feels remotely at peace, unperturbed from outsiders prying eyes.

“I-I’m home.” Timidly calling out to the single place that’d welcome him so, in a hushed, open embrace. But, as per expected, no pleased response comes forth to counter that shrill, little voice of his—having progressively grown accustomed to announce his eventual arrival to what he still sheepishly refers to as his parents, at least, even if they might not outwardly reply with a normal chime of their own. Perhaps he’ll be met occasionally with a hiss or two, yet he doesn’t really dare to enter any further into their territory without loads of garlic necklaces clumsily hooked along his delicate neck. Coward, he is—even in the face of his own mother and father, although it does possess its perks when it comes to avoiding trouble at school or notably, that filthy blonde’s presence.

That is to say, there’s no point in uselessly ruminating any further about an establishment that bores his bare unhappiness, right? Briefly stealing a glimpse to where his parent’s doorway restlessly lies partially accessible, surely aware of his newfound return—judging by the bored clatter of their glinting, metallic fangs concealed below the extended bed. Oh, they’re waving at him, clearly! Least, he positively thinks so if he hasn’t been ruthlessly attacked yet, so far. Unlike certain intruders skittering ‘round the mansion, that being rats. Ah, merely envisioning the little creatures draws a shuddered breath out of his wrinkling nose, jolting shivers coursing throughout the curved length of his spine.

There are far more important matters presently tending to his current attention, however. You, you, you—your upcoming stream. You, you, you . . . Obviously. Occupying the vast majority of his brain and, as for the last remainder—it being the sheer embarrassment of his progressively growing hard-on straining against the rough material of his ripped jeans. Oh, and now he’s popping boners purely from thinking about you?? Like he hasn’t done so before in class either, bitterly reminiscing over the painful memory of skittering away to the boys bathroom for a quick. . . tending to, as in pervertedly pumping his cock full in the tight confines of an unkempt stall. Shakily whining out your name (more like username, really) between muffled whimpers as sweet release mercilessly found the loner and he, ungracefully so, spilled the entirety of his sticky seed along the rest of his rumpled school uniform.

. . .Yeah, he’s definitely got a vast amount of issues to deal with. But, he can helplessly worry about that unimportant part later.

The continuous pitter patter of his feet carefully made up to the balanced stairwell—where his meticulously made shrine of you remains still, by the way—endlessly carries on. Opposite to how the insistent, rhythmic pumping of his discomposed heart feverishly beats with each huff drawn forth of the outcast’s hitched sighs. Creaking floorboards noisily squeaking beneath each incessant footsteps made towards his own private room before finally. . . finally, soundlessly shutting the oaky door with a resounding click and an exhaled breath of relief.

And so, it begins.

Familiar, shrouded darkness envelops his figure whole all at once within the restrictive bounds of his exclusive chamber. Movements seamlessly acted out on an automatic everyday-thing as he so thoughtlessly—to his mattress’s strained annoyance—flings his worn bag containing practically nothing, save for his sketchbook and a singular, used pencil—upon the squeaking, cushiony surface with an audible thud! Well, he’s always been somewhat irresponsible when it came to his possessions in hand lest they held some semblance of emotional attachment to him in some shape or form. Fortunately, he withholds an acceptable excuse for his hasty behaviour this time, yeah, swears it’s an adequate one! Of course it’d perpetually be when it comes to you, his esteemed beloved, his one and only. (To what he’s thoroughly deluded himself to blindly believe so.)

Ah, how unbridled excitement quells within his chest with each shaky step forward to his unattended, cluttered desk. Smiling gleefully to himself in absent thought at the six, available monitors at his disposal—who’re poorly reflecting the sight of his eager expression at the moment, too. Oh, he doesn’t mean to appear like a frantic puppy in heat right off the bat without having even received his sweetened treat.

Though, can he be possibly faulted for it when he’s hardly a few seconds away from being so lovingly graced with your company on the other side of a limited screen? Helplessly devoted in the woeful sense that simply a single snippet of your soothing voice renders him blissfully breathless, weak in the knees bound to soon buckle beneath your honeyed words? Has him torturously aching downwards to where his dripping wet cock tents against the layered fabric of his pants?? Perfection couldn’t even begin to accurately describe your being devoid of any flaws.

So idiotically hooked that the perverted freak is already slumping himself atop the accommodating, swivelling seat of his chair—instinctually placing his connected headset onto the unkempt strands of hair naturally curling around the indented shape with a pleased hum. Y’know, just to be safe. Potentially due to the considerable awkwardness of if he were to accidentally play a pornographic stream aloud, beyond the confidential walls of his room.

Last thing he’d like to bashfully admit outwardly to his parents is how hopelessly infatuated their son is for another boy who isn’t even remotely aware of his flickering existence. Besides the frantic amounts of fanboy comments the loner usually leaves behind, majority of it containing the sheer euphoria of witnessing such a pretty boy as yourself—so boldly displaying himself for thousands upon thousands, possibly more granted the frustratingly recent spike in your growing popularity, to see. Solely perceived as an overly enthusiastic fan that consequently happens to be attending each and every stream of yours, in a vain attempt to someday, be supposedly noticed by his dearest idol.

Undeniable trepidation restlessly courses through his veins, jittery fingertips grazing amongst the crumb stained keys—which, he never thoughtfully bothers to sanitize, exactly—before ultimately typing in the uh. . . ah, it’s still considerably embarrassing to be navigating through a raunchy, naughty site filled to the brim with erotic content. Not to say, he hasn’t especially skimmed through some. . . exceptionally questionable ones in the distant past, but none seemed to wholly satisfy him nor brought him such disgustingly heated interest like your live recordings either. Hah, he’s just so utterly down bad for you—it’s mildly flustering.

Another which he’ll soon be given the meticulous chance to joyfully witness in the gloomy atmosphere of his bedchamber, if anything else. Arrow pointed key impatiently hovering over the strikingly red button labeled for newcomers to ‘join on in’ to where your stream is bound to usually begin. Yes—he’s memorized your neatly made schedule of commencing your tapes every Thursday afternoon, around thirty minutes after he’s finally released from the sorrowful imprisonment of school. And. . . the gleaming ‘live’ signal should be surfacing any second now. Precisely in five—four, three, two. . . and, one.

Click.

[Now recording.]

“Oh— ahah, god. 200 viewers already? No, it’s climbing up to 254 now. . . You guys are already that happy to see me, huh?? I’m flattered.” Whether to necessarily fixate upon your rosy, moving lips deeply articulating each syllable with a musing grin of your own, albeit a shame that’s about as much as he’ll be able to savour and see of your concealed face positioned above the reserved range of your quality camera. Or, the seamless lull within your effortlessly attractive voice reaching the depths of his attentive ears is beyond the dark haired boy’s enraptured attention, truly—because, hah. . . there’s something else, something else much more special eventually coming up, isn’t there?

Chipped nail upon his thumb being subconsciously chewed at in faux thought, that. . . you look stupidly good today (not that you usually don’t) with that casual wear— yes, even something apparently simple as some loose jeans, not all that much different from his own too, and an onyx black turtleneck compatibly added to the mix—looks pleasantly nice on you, enough so to hurriedly draw all breath from him.

Light conversation ensuing as if you aren’t thoroughly conscious of what the viewers unabashedly desire within this very moment. Him included, to be frank. “What have I planned for today? Well, now—you know, it won’t be any fun if I reveal it immediately, but you’re right, I do have something particularly special planned for today’s stream.” And he can tell, with how the influx of notes rapidly increase at the mere mention of a tell-tale surprise, no doubt brimming with utter curiosity and excitement at the sheer, mind numbing prospect of a carefully thought out present from you, that it indeed works. Sweetened chuckle naturally tumbling forth from your parted lips drawn up in a lighthearted smile in return. “Oh, you wanna know so bad? Fine, fine. Bunch of perverts already pressuring me right into it— haah, but I guess I’m no better for getting off of the attention like this either. . . Alright then, I’ll bite.”

Right, estimating the passing time he’s suggested it beforehand, it should’ve certainly arrived in the mail by now. Peering curiously towards the endlessly flowing stream of enthusiastic comments filling up the area at the bottom right of his dimly lit screen.

“Just so happens I’ve got a new one to test out here. Courtesy of a subscriber’s recommendation, y’know. See how much I actually listen to you guys? You degenerates should be grateful I’m even showing you anything, really— oh, c’mon. It was just a joke. Lighten up, will you?” Musing delightfully in response before promptly presenting a faintly rose coloured—oh, oh! it really is his that you chose!—pussy pocket into view, or generally known as a squishy flesh-light solely made to dutifully suck at awaiting eager cocks. Crimson flush coming forth to deeply stain his cheeks so, gasping momentarily to himself at the shocking outcome and maybe just, the idiotic yearning of intricately wanting to be that toy instead.

Ah— god, what he’d inevitably give to be the one you’re sensually sinking your flushed, oozing tip into, breathlessly groaning at the dizzying tightness swallowing your twitching length whole.

On one hand, he’s tried out quite a few, negligently forgotten in some stash hidden within his creaking closet, although ever since he’s been given a minor glimpse of your fat cock since day one—well, he’s come to long a certain. . . other type of treatment altogether. Notably, the disastrously sickening urge to be fucked full to the brim within an inch of his life, filthy masochist that he deceptively is, nothing could potentially compare to your pretty looking cock truthfully.

“Well, then,” Instinctually following forth with the passages of your hands—those too are pretty, actually. Like every inch of you isn’t, physically drooling at the slightest sliver of your exposed skin being gradually bared to his heated, emerald gaze. The edged curvature of your delicate knuckles down to where your slim fingertips connect to your leathered belt, smoothly unbuckling its constraints with a distinct jingle before it ultimately, drops downwards to the floor with a muted thud. His own loosened pants shortly accompanying your gestures soon after in a clumsy haste.

“Why don’t you sick fucks just sit back—“ A tug of your elastic boxers and he’s being suddenly greeted by the addictively sinful sight of it. Flushed cock weeping glistening beads of pre-cum, immediately springing forth from its confine to then, audibly smack against your bare tummy. “relax, and enjoy the show, yeah?”

Ahah, there it is—there’s your admittedly. . . tasty looking cock he’d waste no effort in slinking down to his knees to suckle upon, coat in slippery wet saliva and gratefully swallow down in nigh worship like a mutt starving for a treat. If you sensibly possessed any sort of idea, how well he’d treat you, the boy of his dreams. Hungrily lap the slicked surface of his warm, moist tongue along your balls heavy with seed in an intimate display of unending devotion—obsession, damnation to be gleefully chained and bound to your feet. Or so, he’s steadily scattering the remnants of his needy mind to those nonsensical blurry daydreams of his again.

Along with that artistic mark the loner meekly recognizes as a tattoo permanently etched into the tender flesh of your left hip, inked encryption slithering upwards, beyond the portion that your jeans can possibly conceal if shown on the spot.

“See this?— haah, fuck.” Hitched breath suddenly interrupted with a muted curse at how you merely hover the toy’s softened hole above the leaking tip of your heavy cock, wordlessly pulsing in the camera’s direction—his direction, to be more precise. Silently affirmed as nothing more but a wistful yearning on his part. “The way it just. . .” Oh, he’d so hopelessly, truly never tire to repeatedly listen upon your angelic voice again and again, how it subtly trembles and delves further into a series of rapidly made huffs along with a mix of heaving groans. Beautifully falls apart, tearfully breaks in an instant from the sweet suckle of the makeshift pussy heat steadily sucking in the veiny girth of your aching length. “. . .Effortlessly sucks me inside? So fuckin’—shit, tight. Like I’m fucking a real cunt actually.”

And yeah. . . Yeah, it really is—god, instinctively yearning for the insatiable need that those were his pouty lips instead, thoroughly enveloped around the sheer thickness of your perfect cock. Depthless, expanding pupils deliberately following the trailing path of pearly droplets profusely dribbling out messy pre-cum. Past the stuffed flesh-light’s warm folds—down the curved edge of your neatly swallowed cock to where it ultimately, descends and lands atop your balls with a startling drop.

Seemingly, the slight twitch in his pants at the dizzying demonstration is explanation enough on its own probably.

Quite pitifully so, it’s natural instinct, it’s all, he promises! Stealing a glance downwards to where his own excited cock stands upright and throbbing in the stretchy material of his chosen underwear for tonight’s occasion—one which he can easily slip off at a moments notice, impatiently strip down to his spread knees like an unashamed whore practically begging for it.

Guess it wouldn’t hurt to just. . . rub one out quickly, right? It’s what you’ve so generously taken the effort and time to do so, right?? So the freak—amongst many others delightfully viewing, how annoying—can disgustingly get themselves off to the addled sighs, sickeningly wet smacks! from the teasingly slow roll of your hips upwards, easily tumbling out from his monitors screens.

Timid palm tentatively reaching towards the overly evident, straining hard-on tented underneath the seams of his boxers, earnestly palming himself—or better put, the outlined length bulging through the fairly thin fabric—with a shaky gasp. So embarrassing, how minimal stimulation on his end renders him utterly breathless, silently stunned at the sheer amount of pre endlessly leaking out from his swollen, red hot slit. Inconveniently stains the greying colour in a deeper shade to mindlessly gawk at for future notice. Because currently, he’s unfairly too busy from solely grinding the heel of his softened palm against his cock’s dripping wet head, isn’t he?

Although, it’s not enough. Not enough, just yet—

Certainly, it wouldn’t truly be sinful to shyly go further, bring himself to the very brink of his teetering limit, huh? Fluttering lashes discreetly shutting close maybe due to the dizzyingly hot embarrassment accumulating within his tensed tummy. There, yes there; that’s the spot. . . Ah. Shuddering gasps uncontrollably spilling out of his beautifully open, wanton mouth shaped into a perfect ‘o’ at the clumsy passage of his inexperienced hand downwards, below. Hah—‘inexperienced’ , he sullenly thinks as if the dark haired boy doesn’t steadily fist his cock raw to the mere, increasingly blurring thought of you like a daily routine set into stone, never meant to be carelessly missed.

An unrestrained addict is what he fairly is, for all its worth. Amused grin simultaneously cracking upon his features at the unsurprising realization, insistently tugging at the corner of his now moist lips—disgustingly shiny in his own spit too, now—as scarred fingertips momentarily caress along the curved outline of his twitching cock before impatiently sliding off the sticky undergarment down the length of his perched legs.

Shit, shit. . . Chilly, cooling air mercilessly kissing at the warm, trickling tip of his flushed cock head now openly free from the boxers helplessly limiting bounds. Outwardly hissing at the sudden rush of temperature surrounding the surface of his readily exposed, quivering length. And here he is, already subconsciously humping, desperately bucking at the air—hips spontaneously settling into a rapid pace to fuck into his fist, but oh—your soft skin would be so much warmer to the bare touch, y’know?

Irrefutably better if it were your skillful hands indecently pumping his slippery cock, though you’d only need a single hand to do that, wouldn’t you? Ultimately bigger than his pitifully smaller ones in size, unable to fully wrap around the pulsing thickness of his cock unlike yours who’d effortlessly encompass him whole. Tease at the whorish slit ceaselessly dripping translucent, sloppy pre-cum with a press of your thumb atop the puckered opening all the while fisting himself.

Ah—ah, damn it. “Mmngh. . .”

Invasive, needy hands struggling to grasp for something—anything, will surely do to dull the burning, aching throb of velvety blood rushing south to his taut balls and unsurprisingly so, the pretty flush that comes to visibly stain the surface of his cheeks. Similar to a picture perfect portrait professionally painted by an eccentric artist, that is, if he had any semblance of self-esteem somehow hidden in there.

Predictably so, like some unjust pervert, the experimental tip of his jagged nails curiously grazes against the stretchy texture of his underwear now awkwardly slung down to the freak’s knees. Forgot those were still loosely hanging there, admittedly. Pearly, shiny patch of staining pre boldly glinting back towards his half-lidded gaze as if to elicit an enticing. . . no, the definitely worst idea he’s potentially had.

But, something to just get the ball rolling sometimes, you know? That’s all. Nothing more, nothing any further than his lone tendencies to uselessly clutch at something in a placid need for comfort—for it could be a worn pillow that’s unfortunately out of reach, sweaty used hoodie meant to wholly fill his scrunched nose with the strong lingering musk or even, his pre-cum stained boxers. However else that can be reasonably judged, as no normal person would be feebly bringing their underwear up to their heated face. Deeply inhaling his own stupidly salty scent, crudely burying the tip of his curved nose within fisted briefs restlessly held in the cup of his palm.

Shiiiiitt, it stinks like hell. So, shouldn’t be so devastatingly erotic and spur him on further—shouldn’t have his aching cock incessantly yearning for some form of release, albeit in a fucking pervasive manner.

“So perfect. . . hah, y-you’re so—pretty.” Incessantly drawling forth from his bitten lips, crimson stained flesh absently chewed upon as the searing metallic taste fills his every muddled senses. Like a fallen mantra that’s bound to greedily consume his very being—and frankly, he’d be nothing more than earnestly grateful if he was so selflessly granted the lucky chance to have his useless, good-for-nothing, pliable body thoroughly used and ruined by you. Ah, idly wondering in the discreet back of his mind, how you’d harshly fold his slim figure in half.

Would it be fast and rough, possibly? Indecently cruel in each of your instinctual thrusts, sudden snap of your hips to fuck him within an inch of his life? Or perhaps, no—undeniably the opposite, considering your usual style Kylar familiarly knows all too well. Slow, methodical and torturous marks progressively imprinted along the curved surface of his arched back. Smooth, chilly fingertips gliding downwards till he’s greeted with the slight grip of your locked palms upon his hips. A trembling plea here and there, only to be coldly met with a sneered chuckle at the pitiful sight—heated tip barely grazing against the puffy entrance of his puckered hole as you’d utter out a singular insult.

“You fucking pervert.”

In a mere instant, as it should come as no shocking surprise, surely—that single, fleeting thought precariously tips him towards the edge before the perverted freak’s has remotely registered the immediate slackening of his open jaw. Furrowing of his brows with a petulantly long whine as sickeningly thick, white strings of seed uncontrollably spurt forth from his swollen tip, splattering amongst the previously untainted surface of his keys, bare and unclenched tummy in the cooling air and of course, the monitored screen itself.

“H-hah—I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry. I’m nothing. . . but, a nasty p-pervert. . . ! Please—hngh, forgive me. . . !” Salaciously muttering to himself as though you’d possibly hear his ushered mewls for forgiveness, reassuringly cleanse him of his rushed and impulsive actions. Adoringly nosing along the creeping edge of his torn sleeve, pouty lips lewdly suckling upon its cotton material in an absent habit meant to momentarily soothe himself from the ongoing orgasm wracking throughout the entirety of his quivering, slackening figure—sluggishly resting atop the leathered, rolling chair.

Ah. . . Hah, doesn’t even register the all too heavy weight of his sleepy eyelids inevitably fluttering shut in a dazed slumber, head comfortably leaned back against the cushioned pillow. Carelessly forgetful of the accumulated, dripping mess now irritably found at his feet which he supposes, he’ll reluctantly clean later when he’s somehow received the faithful chance to.

Although, speaking of—isn’t he foolishly forgetting something residing in the shrouded depths of his mind. . . ? That can be, potentially dealt with. . . later, though. Maybe.

Didn’t even bother to aimlessly recall as to what it is regardless.

It wholly slipped from his drowsy mind, anyway.

— . . .

Alright, well—understandably enough, shouldn’t have tediously overslept past the overly distracting ringing of his stubborn alarm, but still. . . ! It’s not like it’s necessarily the loner’s fault for having this annoyingly irreparable tendency to listlessly pass out the second he’s satisfyingly gotten his fill. Probably, should get that checked out, however. Who effortlessly shifts to the realm of sparkling dream land after having hurriedly, finished in one fell swoop?? As in, helplessly shooting forth a fat load and considering it done and over with. Him, apparently.

‘Course, that reasonably draws its fair share of invasive consequences. Utterly lost in the bewilderment of his racing thoughts during his languid sprint towards class in the dead middle of the somewhat. . . spacious hallway, yet—not so much so that he isn’t incidentally slamming against a poor student in a troublesome haste, unintentionally tripping himself over his own loose, untied shoelaces. Oh, can’t be any more blind, can you??

Having fully expected to have painfully hit the dull, heartless ground by now—but, but. . . unfamiliar softness tentatively tugs at his blurry senses instead, confusingly warm firmness of someone else’s secure arms embracing the dark haired boy’s lanky figure in return. “Ugh, fuck—“

“. . .Sorry, are you alright? I didn’t mean to bump into you there. I should look where I’m going next time—stupid of me, really. You’re not hurt or anything, right?” Despite being sorrowfully accustomed to the normally discriminating tone most students expectantly would’ve adopted at the mere sight of him, nothing particularly prepared Kylar for that vaguely recognizable, dulcet voice faintly ringing within his stinging ears as he, so dumbly, peers from below the mopped mess of his unruly tufts of hair. One day, he’s got to take care of that nasty habit of his to be neglecting his unfairly important needs.

Strikingly stiff as a stoned, wobbling statue at the nearest temple from the intimately tender worry currently occupying your gaze—ah, what is he specifically meant to respond with in such an uncouth situation again?? Somehow missing the loosely held grasp your smooth palms have atop his hunched shoulders because, oh, he’s never been willingly touched before either—has he?

“Um, y-yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” My god, haven’t you received nothing but excellent marks in English, idiot?? Further elaborate on that meaninglessly empty statement! Inwardly cringing at the slight squeak unjustly found amidst his slurred speech and albeit, apologetic struggle not to seemingly appear like some ditzy moron right now instead of y’know—excessively nodding along to the point that, you’re questioningly tilting your head to the side.

“That’s good to know. Make sure not to run like that in the hallways again yourself, next time. Could’ve ended worse and I wouldn’t want someone getting hurt on my behalf, would I?” Momentarily stunned by that sugary sweet smile and maybe, the all too good-natured pat naturally placed upon his left shoulder that his heated breath is promptly caught in his bobbing throat.

He meant to reply back, truthfully desired nothing more than to sheepishly inquire further for. . . what? Nothing, perhaps. Anything to have your presence possibly linger longer next to his, but before he’s consciously notices—your retreating silhouette is already swiftly stepping past his dumbfounded, stranded self. Stifled curses accompanied by faintly echoing footsteps thudding against the now desolate, school hallway.

“Goddammit, where’s that blonde bastard—told me to wait for him and he doesn’t even fucking show up. Is he still pissed at me for yesterday’s shit?? I swear I should. . .”

Ah.

And, he didn’t even get to catch your name.

Guess he’ll find out through his own personal means. Stealing a rushed glimpse towards the headmaster’s shut door where they privately keep any student’s confidential files—that is, including properly listed grades too, which he’s gotten no interest for, to begin with.

Name.

Your name.

Well, he’ll find out one way or another because he always possesses a way to, doesn’t he?

[emrikae]

aot cast modern au jobs in my head:

eren: cybersecurity specialist. i feel like erens one of those kids that suck in subjects like lang-lit or fucking geography but have an impressive talent in anything techi. i think growing up eren was a competitive gamer and i imagine him being pretty rich in the sense where doctor daddy grisha and also big bro zeke are always spoiling his brat ass with the latest technology. he gets so good, he initially goes into uni wanting to become a game designer but after a brief fallout with his dad when he dropped out and eventually had his allowance cut (a period where i think eren dips into underground hacking and also modelling?) he falls upon the sexy salary in cybersecurity (and saw how thrilling- and damn easy !for him! - the job is) he changed course. i think eren eventually builds his own successful company and becomes one of those rich folks who say that school aint shit.

mikasa: president of a major sports team. mikasa takes over pretty young (like early 30s) after old uncle kenny was involved in some ‘reiss scandal’. initially mikasa was labelled ‘princess’ (derogatory) by dumb angry hooligans who thought a woman would curse their current standing, jokes on them cus that same season the club broke their 20 year curse by reaching the championships. i also think old pictures of gothkasa gets leaked on the internet but it only brought her more praise. but i actually dont think mikasa stays in this job for very long, shes always wanted a quiet simple form of income anyway so when her baby brother comes of right age and maturity she passes the baton to him and lays back as just a shareholder before shes even 40. i also believe mikasa in another universe wouldve loved to be an archivist.

armin: celebrity marine biologist/activist that went viral online during lockdown. he gets his own fanbase and is termed ‘biologist bae’ cus of his cute looks. a tv producer who fell into his corner pretty much fell in love with him after seeing armin deliver a spiel about endangered dugongs. invites him to a bunch of talk shows and the viewership goes so high (a large portion of it being teenage fangirls who want to ‘save the ocean’ too!) he manages to score his own show where he eventually meets his future wife.

annie: senior tv writer who got with armin after working with him on his show. she usually works on sporty reality shows and competitions even though shes a big time introvert. known for her sharp dont fuck with me work ethic, annie gags at how easily she fell into ‘biologist baes’ charm, hates how shes just like the 14 year old fangirls who try to sneak into their shoots. but anyways, annies the ace at her job been going hard for about 15 years but ultimately decides to retire early after having her second child and really liking how ‘biologist bae’ was making enough dough for the whole family.

sasha: influencer cus shes so pretty and fun. was a design major so all her vids have a ‘aesthetic’. now she prettily promotes lifestyle hacks for all the girlies. she also has a set of vids called “what my chef husband cooked for me today” . i think also further on she ends up being one of those moms who shoots vlogs and reviews with their kids.

jean: jeans a classy guy with artistic talents so i imagine him being a successful automotive designer for a luxurious car company. a mommas boy, he used his first fat pay-check to buy his mom a sleek ride thats a little too fast for someone her age. dudes insta page is what you’d expect from a posh car enthusiast with flashy posts of either him, his car, his mom or all 3.

connie: real estate party man. he really climbed his way up and becomes a man of many stories, friends with everyone and plenty of connections. the old hustle got him familiar with the best locations in the city, and now with his excellent salesmanship dude manages to sell at least 3 huge properties a week. i also feel like connies one of those dudes to finally settle down in his 40s -50s (with someone half his age).

historia: i believe queenbee was made for wedding planning. she has her own company before her first job ever but damn is she good at it. being brought up filthy rich, historia is familiar with the highest quality of things, knows whats on the market that only the small percentage of rich people know and will get clients their dream wedding to a t. moreover, she also loves to play cupid (canon!) and is always up to planning her friends weddings (and baby showers, and birthdays parties, and…)

ymir: i imagine ymir being on the board of directors for a bunch of ngos. she had a tough upbringing, was probably moved around from one home to another and could see how hard life is for anyone working at minimum wage. she grew up to be a little spitfire in school, hadnt taken it seriously until she reached senior year and bonded with a school staff named Ms Ymir Fritz. With the wisdom and kindness she learnt from her old teacher, ymir wanted to pay it forward and decided to make a living helping those in need.

reiner: idk why, but i feel like reiners a softie at heart and i imagine him having a nice cozy candy shop. probably fighting old childhood demons and the parental neglect he faced, his cute little shop comes as part of his healing journey to compensate what he missed out on in his youth. its sweet (but a little heartbreaking) that reiners favourite part about his job is getting to witness and be a part of the joy that emerges between families when they enter his shop.

bertholdt: a nurse just cus i think bertholdt would know how to be gentle with the patients. hes got a soft way of speaking that makes vulnerable people feel safe and comfortable. hes also wildly knowledgeable in flexibility and keeping your muscles in good shape that he conducts morning stretches and sometimes yoga in one of their recreational halls.

[tightjeansjavi]

Et Auream - Act IV : Villain & Violent

A/N: this chapter is solely focused around Marcus and his deeply rooted trauma that I feel is not only important to his character, but also sets the tone for how he will act for the rest of the story. Before you read, please heed the warnings and remember that I am not responsible for the content that you choose to consume.

word count: 4.8k

Summary: Marcus is unaware at how much time has passed since his first meeting with Aurelia, and in his vulnerable state of mind, memories of his past begin to resurface. Pairing | Marcus Acacius x f!oc Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! This chapter includes SA of a minor, loss of virginity, pedophilia, child murder, child abuse, child prostitution, enslavement, canon typical violence, alcohol consumption, mentions of whores, graphic depictions of violence, PTSD, trauma responses, hazing, minor character death, language, +18 minors dni! series master list

The Ludus Magnus

Marcus had no concept of how much time had passed since the night he first met Aurelia. It could have been days, weeks, months—for all he knew, which wasn’t much to begin with. The only time he was able to gaze upon the sun, and feel its warmth, was when he was in the Colosseum, and the only way he knew it was nightfall was through the sliver of moonlight that would trickle in through the cracks in the ceiling of his cell.

A small solace, a shred of comfort that was snuffed out when the evening hours would manifest clouds to cast shadows over the moon. He was used to the darkness, to the feeling of loneliness consuming him, and then she came into his orbit. And while their acquaintance was brief, he could not tear his thoughts from her even if he tried. 

“Rise and shine, scum,” Cato said from the other side of the iron bars. He wore a sneer on his face, and his tone was anything but kind. 

Marcus gave little regard to Cato and his distaste towards him. His mind was too preoccupied. He wordlessly rose to his feet, ignoring the dull strain in his back from sitting against the stonewall through the night. The lacerations along his shoulders and back had healed significantly, and there was no longer an uncomfortable sting when he would brush against a wall, or endure the weight of his armor. The freshly healed skin was just another testament that Aurelia’s existence wasn’t something he had conjured during his vulnerable hours. Infection did not spread through his body, and she was the reason he was still breathing, after all. 

The next time I am graced in her presence, I will ask her where she learned the ways of a medicus. 

“You look like shit, Acacius,” Cato pointed out with a wry grin. He unlocked the cell door, keys jingling before the door swung open against the wall. 

Marcus only grunted in response, still paying no mind to him. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for his ankles to be unshackled from the wall so that he could move somewhat freely. 

“Gone mute again, have we?” Cato said with a teasing hum. He walked into the small space, crouching down beneath Marcus’s feet and slipped a smaller shaped key into one of the locks. “You know, if it were up to me, I’d keep you chained here for eternity.” 

another wordless grunt slipped past Marcus’s lips,  his nostrils flared slightly. 

“Pinched a nerve, did I?” Cato cackled and twisted the key to the left, engaging the unlocking mechanism within it to release. 

“I can’t quite wrap my head around why the emperor's find you to be so…valuable,” Cato continued. “Why allow a traitor to live to see another day is beyond me,” he scoffed and unlocked his other ankle before rising to his full height. 

Marcus uncrossed his arms, holding his wrists out in front of him, waiting for the cold touch of iron to encase his skin, wordlessly. 

“It’s foolish, if you’d ask me,” Cato scoffed and placed the iron cuffs around Marcus’s wrists, securing them as tight as he saw fit. It was enough for Marcus to tense his jaw slightly from the sudden pressure. 

“Consider yourself lucky that you have never faced me in the arena, Cato. I’d drive my sword through that gaping mouth of yours in a heartbeat,” Marcus muttered under his breath. 

“I don’t doubt that for a moment, scum. Too bad you’ll never have the chance,” he bit.

“Nothing is permanent, Acacius. Remember that.” Geta’s charged words echoed in his mind. 

“Get moving, Acacius. We don’t have all morning, unless you want to miss out on breakfast,” Cato chimed in his ear. He moved alongside him, giving him a firm shove towards the opening of the cell. 

Marcus’s feet moved at their own accord, and the low growl of his stomach guided the way. The other cells had since been emptied, leading him to believe that he had already missed out on breakfast after all. 

Boisterous chatter could be heard down the narrow corridor and with another firm shove to his back, he was met with the many faces of the other gladiators scarfing down their piss-poor excuse of a meal. 

No one acknowledged him as he took an empty seat at the lengthy table. a clay bowl, containing mashed barley, beans and mixed grains was thrusted in front of him. His stomach growled, but he did not reach for the bowl immediately. 

He stared into the gray hues of nothingness, brows furrowed and lips pursed. A sour feeling washed over him, and his fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles turned stark white. It was happening again, the memories—

“What is all of that ruckus?!” Crassus, Marcus's Dominus, yelled into the thick night. The air was tinged in the stench of copper; bloodshed and the mortal cries of one of his boys meeting their brutal end. 

The grouping of boys, huddled around the fire quickly dispersed, revealing the violence that had ensued. The earth was soaked in rich crimson that flowed like the river of Tiberius. In the center lay one of the boys—what remained of him, and Marcus had fallen to his knees. His eyes were wild, his face stained in blood, his body shaking—trembling with unbridled rage that Crassus himself had never witnessed from him. 

“My, my,” he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You have been holding out on us, Acacius.” 

Marcus snapped his head in the direction of Crasuss’s voice. His grip around the hilt of his sword did not falter, nor loosen. His facial expression turned from anger to confusion when he tore his gaze from his Dominus and looked down at the boy's corpse. His chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parting at the gruesome sight of the boy’s mangled face, and empty eye sockets staring up at him. 

“Peace, Acacius.” Crassus took a cautious step towards him, and the rest of the boys huddled behind him; they too were frightened.

Marcus stumbled to his feet, movements uncoordinated, knees shaky and unbalanced. His sword, dripping in congealed blood and flesh tissue hung heavy at his side. 

“Drop the sword, boy,” Crassus said sternly. 

“He killed him,” one of the boys whispered. 

“No, he—annihilated him,” another chimed in. 

“The sword, Acacius. Drop it.” Crassus was becoming impatient. 

Marcus’s bloodstained knuckles tightened reflexively around the hilt. His death grip was the only tangible feeling that was keeping him grounded, but the gravity of his actions began to sink into his conscience. 

“He’ll kill us all,” another boy shuddered, his voice trembling, and the rest murmured in agreement.

“Acacius, you are testing my patience, boy. I will ask this of you one last time. Drop the fucking—” 

His grip suddenly loosened and the sword fell to the sand with a dull thud as Marcus stumbled back, turning to flee, but a calloused hand reached out, gripping  his armpit and stalled his movements. He cried out, crying for his mother, for anyone—but no one came to his aid. His body went lax in Crassuss’s grip, slumping in his arms, finally. A well-known pressure point was activated with a firm hand and forced Marcus into an unconscious state. 

None of the boys moved from their protective huddle when their Dominus addressed them directly, “Clean up this mess,” he barked out an order with a pointed glare in their direction. 

They scattered like flies being swatted at and he let out a huff, lifting the dead weight of Marcus into his arms. 

When Marcus awoke, hours later, he was in an unfamiliar room. He shot up in a daze, eyes wide and stricken with confusion. He whipped his head around frantically for any sign as to how he ended up there. 

“Peace, Acacius,” a familiar voice addressed him from the opposite end of the expansive room. Crassuss’s back was facing him, and it appeared that he was writing something on parchment before he turned around in his chair, clasping his hands against his chest. 

Marcus struggled to form words, his mouth opened and closed but no sounds came out. He warily glanced down at the blanket that draped his body before he grasped its unfamiliar softness in his palms and threw it off in a haste. 

Crassus sighed through his nose, standing to his full height. “I need you to relax, boy. You aren’t in any danger, I assure you.” 

Marcus did not trust him, and why should he? He had no reason to. “Why am I here?” 

Crassus ignored his question and walked towards him. His footsteps were cautious, but determined. “Do you remember what happened?” 

Marcus shook his head and glanced down at his hands briefly. His knuckles were still stained in blood, although dry now. “Whose—whose blood is this?” his voice trembled. 

“Ah, so you don’t remember anything? How…fascinating,” Crassus mused. “I have trained many boys to become fierce gladiators, Acacius, but you, now—there’s something special about you.”

“Special?” Marcus echoed with uncertainty. 

“Indeed,” Crassus continued. “Your rage. What was it fueled by? A dozen boys, just outside these walls, are fearing for their lives because of you, and that very rage that you displayed.” 

Marcus’s face constricted as he racked through his brain for the answers to what took place hours ago. “Is…he dead?” 

Crassuss’s lips tightened into a thin line and he crossed his arms over his chest with a pointed look that had Marcus curling in on himself. 

“I-I-I didn’t mean to—I swear! I never intended to kill him, Dominus.” 

“No?” The question was rhetorical. “His face isn’t recognizable, Acacius. You gouged his eyes out as if you were scooping yolks from an egg. I’ve never seen so much blood spilled from one body.” 

Marcus winced from his words and he turned his chin into his shoulder out of shame and guilt. His hands wrung nervously in his lap. 

“Do not hide your face from me, Acacius. You have nothing to feel shame for. I imagine he deserved it. In fact, I’d go as far to say that you were merciful.” 

“I am not violent, Dominus. It is not in my blood,” Marcus bit back, feeling as if he were a cornered beast that had been prodded with a spear one too many times. 

“Oh,” he sighed. “But you are. Detest it all you wish, but your violent heart will only lead you to greatness. The false lions will torment you no longer, Acacius. Not when they fear for their own eyes to be gouged from their sockets,” he stopped at the foot of the bed, offering Marcus his bejeweled hand. “Let us get you cleaned up.” 

Marcus eyed his outstretched hand warily from where he sat. The same hand that would beat him repeatedly for insubordination, was now being offered for a different reason. He wasn’t sure what to make of it—any of it, really. He wished that his mother was there so that he may confide in her during his times of peril. He yearned for her motherly embrace, her soft-spoken words. 

“Take my hand, Acacius,” Crassus commanded. 

With reluctance, Marcus raised his own hand. His fingers visibly trembled, but Crassus paid no mind to his apprehension as he lifted him from the bed with little resistance. 

The tepid water acted as little comfort for Marcus, who sat on his knees along the tub. He quickly washed the dried blood from his hands and between the crevices of his knuckles under the watchful eye of Crassus. 

“Get all the way in, boy.” his tone was clipped, and the cold sound of it caused Marcus to flinch. 

“I—I don’t want to,” he whispered in a pathetic plea. 

“Didn’t ask what you wanted, now did I?” 

“No, Dominus,” he said defeatedly. His hands shakily moved towards the hem of his tattered tunic, hesitating before he slowly lifted it over his head and shoulders. His muscles had not yet formed, and his posture was rigid and sheltered. 

“All of it, Acacius,” he sounded annoyed, and his patience was wearing thinner by the second. 

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut and blindly reached for the loose knot of his subligaculum. When he pulled the knot free, he hastily climbed into the tub, nearly falling face first because he was so afraid. 

Water splashed along the rim of the tub, turning a deeper shade of pink from the remnants of blood being washed away. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them protectively to his chest. 

Crassus stalked around the tub and crouched down so he was more level with Marcus. His hand reached towards his face, knuckles brushing the softness of his cheek where crusted blood still remained. “ever had anyone tell you that you have a pretty face, boy?” he sneered. 

Marcus shied from his unwanted touch, gnawing on the inside of his cheek to distract himself. He kept his eyes focused on the end of the tub. 

“I thought so,” Crassus said with a hum. “not only is it a pretty face, but a fuckable one, too. I imagine you could easily pocket extra coin with a face like that.” 

“I…don’t understand what you’re saying, Dominus,” Marcus whispered with uncertainty. What was he insinuating? His crude choice of words fell foreign to his innocent ears. 

“Ah, a virgin too? I have plenty of clientele that would gladly pay generously to lie with the likes of you, pretty boy.” 

“Acacius?” 

Marcus blinked rapidly, eyes darting to his left and then his right. He had been clenching his fists so tightly, that his blunt nails had left angry red marks in his palms. 

“Acacius.” The familiar voice to his left broke through the blockage in his brain. Cinna, a fellow gladiator, was the only one left at the table outside of Marcus. His eyes were as blue as the sea, or the sky on a clear day. It was a stark, yet beautiful contrast against his dark complexion. 

Marcus swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and finally released the tension in his fists. The bowl of porridge in front of him remained untouched and had since gone cold. 

“Are you quite alright, Acacius? You have yet to touch your food.” Cinna sounded genuinely worried. 

“I’m fine, Cinna,” he released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and rose from the table. 

“You should really—”

“I said,” Marcus enunciated. “that I was fine.” Despite the empty feeling in his stomach, and the unease in his mind, he stalked off to the armory to get suited up for another grueling training session. Perhaps during that time he could clear his mind, finally. That, of course, was wishful thinking on his part. 

 When the iron cuffs around his wrists were removed, he flexed his fingers at his sides, tapping them against the hem of his tunic. His armor was soon fastened, and a sword was thrust into his hands. He tested the weight of it in his palm, like he always did, but something felt off when he stared at his reflection in the steel. Empty eye sockets stared back at him, and his palms felt clammy. He blinked as hard as he could before opening his eyes again and his normal reflection returned. 

“Get moving, Acacius. You’re already late as it is,” the armorer muttered. 

When Marcus stepped into the arena, he expected to be greeted by the sun, but instead was met with a gray, cold sky with clouds stretching to the heavens for miles. His sword fell heavy at his side, and when he looked up at the emperor’s viewing platform, he could make out the faces of Geta and Caracalla staring back at him. 

Geta gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement, and tipped the rim of his chalice in his direction before his attention was stolen by a feminine hand wrapping around his bicep and pulling him back down to his throne. 

The rest of gladiators had already begun to spar, their swords of steel clashing loudly. Marcus stood there, dumbly. His jaw ticked, and his ears were ringing. He was not focused, and when Cinna’s familiar hand clasped around his shoulder, he whipped around in confusion. His eyes were wide when they landed upon striking blue ones. 

“You are not well today, Acacius,” Cinna said in a low soft tone. 

“I—I’m fine,” Marcus insisted and brushed his hand from his shoulder. 

“Where are we going, Dominus? The hour is late, and I am quite tired,” Marcus trailed behind Crassus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“We are going to meet some of my very good friends, Acacius. You’ll be my cup bearer for the evening,” Crassus stated plainly, and he did not slow his steps so Marcus could keep up with his pace. Marcus frowned at this and took longer strides so he could keep up with him. He opened his mouth to argue that his sleep was more important, but one sharp look over Crassus’s shoulder had him swallowing his words just as quickly as they had manifested. 

“You’ll be on your best behavior, Acacius. Wouldn’t want to upset me, now would we?” 

“No, Dominus,” Marcus whispered and absentmindedly scratched at his arm. He looked over his shoulder, towards the distant flickering lights of the villa before facing forward. He kicked at a stray rock with the toe of his sandals, but Crassus did not notice, nor care. 

At the entrance to the town's brothel, Marcus was involuntarily glued to Crassus’s side. There was an array of people filtering in and out of the bustling establishment, and Marcus’s curiosity was getting the better of him as he looked up in wonder at each passing face. 

“You will speak only when spoken to, boy. Do you understand?” Crassus addressed him sternly. 

“Yes, Dominus.” 

His arm was tugged roughly inside and although it was too dim to see much of anything, he heard a plethora of sounds. To his innocent ears, he believed that people were wailing in pain and anguish, but one glimpse of bare skin on flesh moving rhythmically behind a sheer curtain had his cheeks burning from the sight. He looked up at his Dominus, expectantly, hoping that he would have the answers, but Crassus continued to drag him along with little regard. 

“How old is he?” a woman, twice Marcus’s age asked from her makeshift throne of pillows. Her eyes were enticing, and her movements fluid when she rose from her lax position. 

“Thirteen,” Crassus said with a grin. 

“A virgin, yes?” her question left a sour taste in Marcus's mouth, but he didn't dare speak up.

Crassus nodded and released his firm grip on Marcus’s arm finally. 

“I expect you’ll pay well for him. He is well mannered and docile, as long as he’s nowhere near a sword,” he chuckled. 

She simply smiled and reached for her chalice of wine on the nearby table, snatching it up with ease. She approached Marcus who was wringing his hands together nervously. She came to a halt in front of him, crouching down so she was more level and brought the rim of the chalice to her painted lips. “You do have quite a pretty face.” 

“T-thank…you?” Marcus wanted to be polite as his mother raised him to be. He eyed the contents of her chalice suspiciously, and his nose turned up from the nauseating sweet aroma that emitted from it. 

She looked up towards Crassus, her smile turning into a knowing, wry grin. “Payment is on the table, Crassus. Half to start, and the rest to follow…depending on how your boy performs.” 

“Oh, he will perform to your standards, Domina Vinicia, I am certain of this.” 

“Good.” her grin stretched across her lips and she took another sip of her wine before offering it to Marcus. “Ever had wine before, boy?” 

Marcus shook his head and took a step back, but Crassus’s hand was there to stop him and instead nudged him forward. 

“No, I have not,” he answered quietly. 

“Well, tonight will be a night of many firsts for you,” Vinicia said with certainty in her saccharine tone and she nudged the glass into his hands. He stared down into the reflection of claret, contemplating his decision for a moment before hesitantly bringing the rim to his lips. The small, meager sip he took turned into a larger one when Vinicia used the bridge of her pointer finger to tip the bottom of the chalice forwards, forcing Marcus to drink more of the scarlet liquid. 

He sputtered frantically, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried his best to quickly clear his airway, but most of the wine had ended up down the front of his tunic. He profusely apologized for creating such a mess, in fear that he would be punished. 

Vinicia’s cat-like grin did not falter, and she brought her hand to rest against his jaw, ceasing his movements when she brushed away a stray drop of wine from his lips. Marcus let out a sound of protest, but his words were muffled when her painted lips pressed softly to his. 

“Crassus,” she said suddenly and pulled back slowly from Marcus’s bewildered face, “you have yet to disappoint me, friend.” 

“W-w-wait—” Marcus tried to interject, but Vicinia was already rising to her feet and pulling him further into the room. “What do you call this one?” 

“Acacius.” 

“Acacius,” she echoed.

Marcus looked back at his Dominus, digging his heels into the intricate rug beneath his feet, but Crassus did not move from his spot to help him. 

“Peace, Acacius. There is nothing for you to fear,” Vicinia said sweetly from above. Her grip on his arm was far gentler than Crassus’s had been. The last thing Marcus saw before multiple pairs of hands, both calloused and soft, reached out from the darkness, was Crassus disappearing behind the door. 

Their voices were soft in his ears like a soothing lullaby. Their hands, feminine and masculine, pulled him further into the darkness. They were not like monsters that lingered in his nightmares, with sharpened claws and long, narrow teeth. He could not see their eyes, but their teeth gleamed through the darkness, stained in claret. Their breath on his skin reeked of sweet wine, and he hated the stench of it. 

“Peace, pretty boy. We’ll take good care of you.” 

Caracalla, grinning from ear to ear, was acutely tuned into what was taking place in the arena below. His brother, too distracted by his current vice, had not noticed Marcus’s distress, but the younger emperor took notice of it immediately. “Brother,” Caracalla said in a sickly, sing-songy tone. “Leave me be, Caracalla,” Geta clipped back, his words muffled as his lips were pressed against the juncture of the whore’s neck. Her nimble fingers threaded through the back of his brassy curls, giggling wildly when his teeth scraped her pulse point. Caracalla released an annoyed huff through his nose before he rose to his full height. His own whore was disinterested in the gladiators training, and she was far too busy observing her cuticles to notice that he was no longer at her side. He took a few confident steps to overlook the balcony, resting his gold-clad forearms against the stone railing. He peered down at the arena, paying no mind to a scuffle that broke out between four gladiators that had taken the training session a little too seriously.

“What a bunch of animals…” he chuckled in amusement to himself and raised his chalice of wine to his lips, taking a generous sip. He smacked his lips together and looked over in the direction of his praetorians standing by and awaiting his command. He contemplated his next decision only fleetingly and pushed his weight off of the railing, spinning around to face his guards directly. The glint in his eye was enough for them to read and understand what he would ask of them next, and they followed him wordlessly to the hidden stairwell behind the entrance of the viewing platform. Caracalla strolled right past his brother without the eldest emperor catching wind of his departure. Marcus and Cinna were still engaged in an intense conversation, and Marcus’s sword had yet to leave his side. His attention was drawn to the sudden circling of praetorians entering the arena. The sudden intrusion caught the attention of the rest of the gladiators who laid their swords down as quickly as they had been raised. Every one of them bowed in Caracalla’s presence, all but Marcus. Marcus could feel every hair on the back of his neck stand up when the group of praetorians parted in the middle revealing a smirking Caracalla to his eyes. He took a step back, fingers flexing along the hilt of his sword. “Acacius,” Caracalla said in an authoritative tone, his eyes filled with mirth. “Has my brother not yet taught you respect in the presence of your emperor?” he cocked a brow. Marcus’s lip curled upwards into a snarl, but despite his defiance, he reluctantly bowed. “That is better,” Caracalla chuckled and took a step towards him, stopping just under a foot away from him. “However, I'd much prefer you on your knees.” he snapped his fingers once, and two praetorians approached Marcus immediately. In truth, Marcus was not looking for a fight and had already begun to lower himself towards the ground when two pairs of hands forcefully shoved him down. His sword was wretched from his hand and tossed out of his reach. “You look quenched with thirst, Acacius,” Caracalla said with a wry grin. “How about some wine?” “I am not thirsty, your highness,” Marcus responded through gritted teeth. “No?” Caracalla walked closer, till he was towering above him. He raised his chalice of wine above his head and tipped it forwards, dumping the remaining contents directly over Marcus's head. Scarlet droplets coated Marcus’s cropped hair, dripped down the sides of his face, over his lips, neck and the crevices of his armor. The second he tasted the all too familiar sweetness on his tongue, he panicked. The stench was overwhelming and sent Marcus writhing in the praetorian's restraints. He yelled wildly, thrashing like a fish tangled in a fishing net, or a helpless rodent entangled in the coils of a snake.

Caracalla had not been expecting such a visceral reaction, that even he was left feeling stunned at the sight of Marcus reacting in such a crazed manner. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the viewing platform to already find his brother staring back at him in bewilderment. Caracalla snapped his fingers once more and the Praetorians released their hold on Marcus, but the damage was already done. “What is the meaning of this?!” Geta’s voice boomed through the arena, echoing loudly in Marcus’s ringing ears. He was no longer thrashing wildly, but his breaths were coming out in rapid puffs and a layer of perspiration coated his face and neck. “Just having a bit of fun is all, brother,” Caracalla responded with a biting grin. He crossed his arms over his chest at his brother’s fury-filled approach. When Geta was within arms reach of his kin, he raised his hand towards the heavens as if he was about to strike Caracalla’s painted cheek, but he refrained, remembering the role he had to play. “Get him some water!” He barked out an order to his own praetorians that stood in a protective circle around him. “Who would have thought that the ever-so great and brave Acacius could break so easily,”  Caracalla said in amusement under his breath. He brought his hands to rest behind his back, his smirk only intensifying when he locked eyes with a trembling, terrified Marcus. Geta shook his head, biting the soft flesh of his cheek to keep himself from stooping to his brother’s level. He crouched down in the sand so he was more level with him. The other gladiators, except Cinna, had dispersed. “Don’t fucking touch me,” Marcus said in a biting tone, barring his teeth. He reeked of wine, sweat and something– “Gods!” Caracalla cackled. “He’s pissed himself!” His jeering laugh sent Marcus’s cheeks burning, turning as scarlet as the droplets of wine that speckled his skin. “Cinna, is it?” Geta said suddenly, peering up at the man standing nearby. “Y-yes, your highness,” Cinna stuttered out, quickly bowing.

Geta nodded, turning his attention to his guards. “You will escort Acacaius and Cinna to the thermae. Allow them as much time as needed, and leave them both in privacy. He has been humiliated enough.”

“Yes, Caesar,” they responded in unison.

Caracalla pursed his lips into a tight line, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s softness. He turned his nose up in disgust at the stench of urine permeating the air. “Fucking freak,” He said under his breath, loud enough for Marcus to hear it. He turned swiftly on his heel and walked away from the scene as if it never happened. His praetorians trailed behind him obediently.

Marcus did not utter a cry of protest when the two guards on either side of him suddenly lifted him from the sand. Geta gave him a reassuring nod, one that was met with a blank stare of confusion. 

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[kind-of-a-writer]

The Party (18+)

Gator Tillman x fem!reader Part 2 of The Backseat

You run into Gator at a party. You seem to care too much. 

wc: 3k contains: cheating, semi-public (bathroom) sex, name-calling, mostly-mean gator, unprotected sex, lmk if i missed anything

You knew you’d have to see him again eventually. It was a small fucking town, and it didn’t help you often ran in the same circles. You just didn’t expect Gator to be standing with her, with her prissy demeanor and his arm around her waist, seamlessly getting along with his friends that you always hated. They were laughing, she was placing her hand on his chest. You didn’t know her name, the town wasn’t that small. But her face was familiar enough to piss you off. 

The loud music was making your head pound, and no amount of alcohol was helping soothe the irritation you were feeling. You were bored of this party already and it hadn’t even been more than an hour. You weren’t even sure whose house this was. 

After your run-in with Gator just a few weeks ago, you had left his place reeling with insurmountable feelings of guilt because of what you had done. You had a boyfriend, and it was wrong. But you’d done everything right since then. You were avoiding Gator, not that he made much effort to talk to you in front of other people. But the one time you saw your parents talking to Roy Tillman after a church service, Gator lingering right behind him, and it was enough to make your heart jump up to your throat when he glanced at you briefly.

And here your boyfriend was, with his arm around your waist, rambling to you and some of your friends about a story you couldn’t even bother to pay attention to. 

The problem with hooking up with Gator a few weeks ago is that it reminded you of everything you had tried really hard to forget when you first broke up. His stupid face and his smug attitude and oh, God, his big cock that always satisfied you in a way Jake just couldn’t, even if he tried. Not that he did.

Amidst trying to seem like you were paying attention to whatever your boyfriend was talking about, your eyes drifted across the room for probably the hundredth time, over to Gator with his girlfriend or date or whatever the fuck she was to him, your chest burning with annoyance. You blinked, suddenly noticing that Gator had turned and was looking right back at you, his arm still around her. 

A beat passed between both of you, and despite being at opposite ends of the room, you felt on display with the way he was looking at you. 

Quickly, you glanced away, pressing further into Jake who squeezed your hip in response. But it was too late to erase what just happened. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Feeling your heartbeat speed up slightly, you nervously tugged at your skirt. You shouldn’t be caring this much, or at all actually. Gator wasn’t yours anymore. And whatever happened a few weeks ago was just a moment… or hours… of weakness. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, snapping you out of your daze, noticing your change in demeanor. 

“Yeah, fine,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. Your cup was still full, but it was starting to taste like cardboard. Your mouth was dry. “I’m gonna get another drink, I think.”

“Sure, need me to come with?” 

You shook your head, waved him off and departed from the group. 

It wasn’t that Jake was bad. In fact, he was the opposite. He was sweet, attentive, and caring. He had a stable job, came from a good family, and he was perfect for you. He fit the perfect image, exactly what your parents were looking for. Still, you found yourself glancing over at Gator, who was conveniently standing in a place you had to walk past to leave the hall and into the kitchen. This time, he didn’t even spare you a glance as you walked closer. 

You don’t know what possessed you. Maybe it was the anger from seeing Gator with that girl, or the way he had ripped your dress last time. Maybe it was the way he was acting like nothing ever happened between you two with such ease. Maybe it was because you couldn’t get him out of your head. It made you want to get him back.

As you passed Gator, you made a show of bumping into him, thrusting your cup forward so the liquid spilled right on his jeans. You pursed your lips together, trying to look surprised as he physically recoiled, clearly caught off-guard. 

“Oh, shit,” you managed to say. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. “I’m so sorry. Clumsy me.”

You looked over at his girlfriend, who seemed shocked at what just happened. Gator glanced up at you, his eyes in pure disbelief as he looked back down at his jeans, now coated with the sticky liquid. 

“Fuckin’ hell, can you watch where you’re goin’?” he asked, his voice dripping with frustration. 

Blinking innocently, you shrugged and continued walking, abandoning your cup somewhere before he could keep talking. You carefully maneuvered your way through the crowd, and managed to find the bathroom upstairs.

He was quick to follow you. You were barely able to shut the door when he slipped inside after you. You glanced back, slightly startled. You were expecting a reaction out of him, sure. But you didn’t expect this. Or maybe you did, and that’s why your body shivered with excitement.

“You can’t just-” you could barely get a sentence out when he stepped closer, cutting you off almost immediately.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you did that,” Gator said, frustration clear in this tone. It only made you more amused. “Are you really that desperate for my attention, huh?”

Folding your arms, you shrugged. “Just think of it as payback, yeah? For ripping my dress last time.”

He glanced away, a short scoff escaping his lips. “You’re a bitch.”

“You’re a dick,” you retorted, reaching your hand out to run over his jeans, getting a feel of the liquid on his pants. You decided not to comment on how his breath caught in his throat at your touch. “It’s not that bad. You’ll live. I had to drive home with a fucking ripped dress.”

He gripped your wrist before you could pull your hand away. “You’re cleaning this up.”

“What’s your girlfriend gonna think, seeing you follow me up here?” You asked, suddenly remembering you’d both left your partners downstairs. “Who even is she, anyway?” There was no nonchalance in your tone, despite how hard you tried.

“I told her I was gonna clean up-” he scoffed, a smirk forming on his face. “That’s what this is about? You’re jealous?”

“Jealous!” You scoffed right back. It was an incredulous claim. It was outrageous, it was… obviously correct. You were jealous. “You’re fucking delusional.”

Gator tucked some hair behind your ears, his other hand still around your wrist. “Did you not like seein’ me with her, darlin’?” he asked, his voice dropping low as his thumb traced over your lips, parting your mouth. He slipped his thumb in, making you groan when he pressed it against your tongue. “Did it make you upset? You’re mad ‘cause I’m moving on?”

When you didn’t reply, he retracted his thumb from your mouth, his fingers moving down to the hem of your skirt. 

“Answer me,” he said, “or my hand might slip with this poor little skirt too. It’d be a shame, it’s really sexy on ya.” 

His hand was gripping your skirt, and you couldn’t stand that he had you in this position yet again. You squirmed, cheeks flushing. 

“I didn’t… like it.” you admitted with reluctance, knowing he was gonna relish in it.

“Didn’t like what?” Gator asked, his tone taunting as his fingers tightened around your skirt, threatening to rip it. “Gotta be more specific, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I didn’t… like seeing you with her,” you managed to get the words out, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

“Yeah, was that so hard to admit?” He smirked, letting go of your skirt. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna clean this mess up. You can do that for me, mhm?”

When your hands moved to unbuckle his belt, he stopped you, a firm grip on your hand, almost painful. You glanced up, eyes wide in confusion. 

“I said clean up, darlin’.” He grabbed the back of your hair, guiding you down on your knees. “Come on, I don’t have all night.”

“Would she not do this for you?” You asked, settling your knees against the cold, hard bathroom floor. He didn’t answer, roughly pushing your face against his bulging jeans.

Slowly, you dragged your tongue across the inseam of his jeans, licking up against the damp fabric. A low groan left his lips as his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your mouth forward. You licked along all the parts you could see were damp. You could faintly taste the alcohol. 

“Is she your girlfriend?” you asked before pressing your tongue flat against the fabric. 

A soft groan left his lips when you unbuckled his belt, he didn’t seem too opposed to it now that his cock was bulging and twitching beneath your tongue. “Shut up,” he said lowly, fingers massaging your scalp as you pushed his jeans and boxers down in one movement. “She’s none of your business.”

You blinked up at him through your lashes as his cock hit against your cheek, already dripping with precum. You pressed your thighs together at the sight of his cock that twitched slightly against your cheek, whimpering as he pressed your face further against it.

“D’you see?” he asked in a low voice. “D’you see what you do to me?”

You nodded, parting your lips, trying to take him in your mouth, but he tugged on your hair a little harshly, pulling you back. You couldn’t help but make a noise of protest. “Gator.” 

“You want it in your mouth, do ya?” Gator cooed. “You want me?”

“I do,” you said, trying to move your head forward, but he only tilted your head back, tugging on your hair again as he forced you to look up at him. 

“Then why d’you act so difficult, mhm? Why d’you make me act this way with you?” he asked, his voice slightly raspy. You watched as his free hand moved to pump his cock, clearly growing impatient himself. He groaned lowly when you flicked your tongue out, letting it swipe along his tip.

He tugged on your hair with harder force this time, making you moan. 

“Ask nicely, darlin’. Use your manners, I know you got ‘em.”  

“Please, Gator,” the words were quick to spill out of your mouth. “Let me help you feel good.” 

You felt giddy as he loosened his grip on your hair slightly. You pushed your mouth onto his cock, eyes fluttering as he thrust his hips forward harshly, his tip hitting the back of your throat. It made you gag a little, you weren’t expecting him to be so desperate for it.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, a little softly, when he noticed you gagging. You hated that he was being nice even in a moment like this. It only made you want him more. “S’okay?” 

You nodded, as much as you could, your tongue swirling along his length. It didn’t help that your pussy was throbbing, aching for its own relief. 

Gator couldn’t mask his moans anymore, only making it more difficult for you to contain your own arousal. His hair fell into his eyes as he thrusted forward again, this time with a little more control and caution. Your eyes watered as you let him use your mouth how he liked, his groans growing more needy and louder as you could feel the pleasure starting to take over his body. 

Whimpering, you squeezed your thighs together a little more as he gently tugged your mouth off him, a string of drool connecting from your chin to his cock as you glanced up at him, confused. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he gazed down at you, expression slightly hazy from the pleasure.

“Up,” Gator ordered, voice a little shaky. 

Knees a little sore, you stood up as he instructed, swallowing thickly. He pressed you against the bathroom counter with a little force, pushing your skirt up swiftly. You glanced at him through the mirror, feeling his hand hastily tugging down your panties, letting them fall to your feet. You gripped the counter, sticking your ass out a little, your clit still aching for some sort of relief. 

“Whore,” he mumbled as he watched, his fingers pressing against your clit. He had a smirk on his face again as he glanced up at you lazily through the mirror, his saliva-coated cock pressing against your slick, wet folds, running it up and down your entrance. “What a pretty little whore though, mhm?”

You moaned, and you suddenly found yourself grateful for the unbearably loud music of the party that was blaring throughout the house. 

“Beg,” he squeezed your hip. “Beg for it, c’mon.”

“Gator, please,” you whimpered, slightly incoherent as you continued to drool. “Want your cock, please.” 

You let out a whimper as he finally pushed his thick, large cock inside, his large hand gripping your hip as your head fell forward. “Jesus Christ,” you managed to choke out, gripping the counter so tight your knuckles were turning white as he settled his cock deep inside you.

“So tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “He still hasn’t fucked you, has he, darlin’?”

Shaking your head, you let out another moan. “No. I- I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“Fine with me,” Gator replied, pulling out almost all the way only to thrust back in, making you whimper again. “Fuckin’ hate that guy.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a soft cry as he pushed into you again, hitting your walls so deep that you couldn’t quite form words for a second.

“W-what about you,” you said when you finally found your voice, all shaky and whiny. “You fucked her yet?”

He laughed a little, caressing and squeezing the flesh of your ass as he continued to fuck into you, thrusting at a pace that was making you dizzy. “No, sweetheart. Aw, you’re so jealous, aren’t ya?” He gloated. “Needy jealous whore.”

You whimpered softly as his cock hit your walls in a way that made your eyes water and body tremble with pleasure, unable to come up with a reply that would be anything but another whimper or moan.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he said between moans, his voice strained.  “Just a girl I’ve been seein’ casually.”

“Oh,” you replied, your walls clenching around his cock, making him groan in response. “Gator, please-”

“Yeah,” he picked up the pace slightly, his grip on your hip so tight it was starting to hurt. His free hand reached out to tug at your hair. “Look at yourself, baby. Look how pretty you are for me.”

You glanced up at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup was running and eyes glassy, mouth open and drool still dripping from your mouth to your chin. Your cheeks flushed again, humiliated by how you looked. You were completely at his mercy, and he knew it too.

Your attention shifted over to Gator. You noticed his expression was similar to yours, seeming hazy with pleasure as you watched him pound into you from behind through the mirror.

Unable to help yourself, you clenched around him again, thighs starting to tremble. You shut your eyes. It felt like he was burying his cock deeper inside you with every thrust, hitting your sweet spot each time. You whimpered when he smacked your ass.

“I said look,” he said, voice a little rougher now. “Can’t follow simple instructions anymore?”

Your body felt like it was on fire, you tried to speak but all that came out was incoherent mumbles, and you weren’t even sure of what you were trying to say anymore. You gripped the edge of the counter, your forehead pressed against the mirror as you opened your eyes again per his order.

“Atta girl. Just keep watchin’.” 

With a shaky cry, you climaxed, your walls clenching around Gator’s cock. He let out a string of moans, mumbling something about you being a whore again, but you could barely hear him. Your hips bucked to meet him as white hot spurts of his cum filled you up, making your legs tremble even more. Your breaths were so labored it was starting to fog up the mirror right in front of you.

Gator pulled out of you quicker this time, knowing you were having trouble standing upright. In a haze, you let him turn you around and place you on the counter, your body still struggling to come down from the high.

As you settled on the counter, you watched as he slotted himself between your legs after pulling his jeans back on. He tugged up the panties that were still around your ankles, helping you put them back on as a weird silence drifted over you two. 

“Sorry about…” you said, gesturing vaguely at his jeans.

“No, you’re not,” Gator replied, kissing up your neck and jaw. He placed a hand on your hip. You cupped his cheek when he finally glanced up, your lips finding his. He tangled his tongue with yours, a soft noise escaping you.

“I’m not,” you agreed as you pulled back, cheeks flushing from the kiss. It felt more intimate than anything else you two had done tonight, and you could feel his cum spilling out of you.

“So, you gonna avoid me for the next few weeks again?” he teased, his thumbs wiping at the corners of your eyes, trying to clean up some of your running mascara. “Til you get all needy and jealous again?”

“Or,” you started, trying to sound as casual as possible, looking up into his eyes. Your breaths were still a little fast, your heart racing. “You could… come over tomorrow? My parents are outta town.”

“Mhm, yeah?” he turned to kiss your palm that was cupping his cheek. “Only if you dump that fuckin’ loser.” 

You sighed in irritation, as if you weren’t planning on doing so anyway. “Only if you dump whatever her name is.” 

Gator smirked. “Yeah, sure.”

[nonbinairyboi]

Nothing Left - Chapter 2

Fic Summary: You hadn’t spoken in years. Technically, you had the ability to, though as the years wore on, you weren’t so sure. You’d settled in Jackson over a year ago and now it was fall again. You are drawn towards Ellie and her ‘not-dad’, but you had always assumed any relationships deeper than surface level were beyond you at this point.

Chapter Summary: You grow closer to Ellie and go on patrol with a new extra set of hands.

Pairing: Joel Miller x nonbinary!Reader/OC (afab, short hair, tall, dimples, has multiple nicknames but none are their name)

Word Count: ~3.2

MAIN MASTERLIST

Read on AO3

Series Warnings: This is my first fanfic and I plan to go into some dark stuff including some in-depth discussion of SA that was done to the main character (not by Joel) and the mental impact it has. I am unsure if I will be writing smut as I never have before but I will update the warnings if that changes. There definitely will be allusions to smut if nothing else, so MINORS DNI!

Chapter Warnings: Mild violence. Slight reference to general depression and anxiety. Misgendering a bit/wrong name being used. 

Chapter 2

As the cold began to creep further into Jackson, you found yourself busier and busier, picking up any odd jobs you could.

You helped with the farming, the greenhouses, patrol, as well as picking up some mending jobs as you could. It was comforting to have something you could work on at home to quiet your mind.

At night, without anything to focus on, your mind could go off on its own and run into a thick dark forest, getting caught up in the tendrils of leaves and branches blocking your path. It always surprised you how the smallest, most mundane things would catapult you to another place and time, and lately it felt like all of those places were cold and abrasive.

Mornings had become one of your favorite times of day, which was ironic because you used to hate them before the outbreak. Before the outbreak, it signified a slog of going to school, then going to work to slave a way at a job for minimal pay. At the QZ, it had been the same, feeling heavier as the jobs were harder and your days would take more gut-wrenching turns. On the road, they were bittersweet. It meant that you had made it another day, but that was a thought often tinged with regret. Why were you still here? Did you really have to continue another day?

Now, they had come to be a bit more peaceful. Even when you woke up from a dream that left you feeling anxious or out of breath, you could close your eyes and take deep breaths while hearing the gentle birds outside your window. There was a thicket of trees near the back of your house that hadn’t been chopped down for wood, and they housed quite the collection of songs.

A few months into living in Jackson, you had started to take morning walks after bad dreams. They weren’t very long, but they generally helped. You avoided the busier parts of town, staying where it was still quiet and you only encountered a few people with smiles and nods. It felt like a warm-up for the social interactions of the day. Once the air had cleansed your mind, you wandered towards the center of town to grab some food.

Today, you had awoken with an uneasy feeling, but you couldn’t remember the dream that had caused it. After a few minutes of walking and focusing on your breaths and the soft crunch underneath your feet, the cold fist that had gripped the inside of your chest seemed to warm up and loosen as you turned towards town.

You had patrol with Eugene later in the morning, but you had a few hours till then. You grabbed food and slid into a spot at the end of a table, away from the few people who already sat around. 

Taking a breath, you zoned out staring at the light that poured in from the window. It reminded you of the way the light would come in your childhood home during winter break from school, when you got up early, still accustomed to the weekly schedule for school. Laying on the carpeted floor and studying the rainbow that the prism hanging in the side window created next to you.

You were jolted out of your thoughts by a loud clatter directly across from you at the table. You jumped slightly at the unexpected noise and turned around to lock eyes with the person who had abruptly brought you back to the present. 

Ellie winced when your eyes met and mumbled a quiet, “Shit, sorry!”

You tried to school your features into a smile to show that she didn’t need to be sorry. 

She plopped down into her seat and picked up and studied an apple from her plate.

“Joel told me that back when people went to grocery stores, they used to put stickers on apples. That seems too weird to be true though.” She said with a furrowed brow.

You could help the giggle that bubbled its way out of your throat. 

Ellie smirked and turned her attention back to you. “Soooo…. Is it true?” she asked.

The side of your mouth stayed tilted up as you nodded back at her. Ellie narrowed her eyes.

“Really? It’s not just a joke he was trying to get me to believe?” 

Your smile grew as you nodded again.

“That is so weird.” She turned her eyes skeptically back to the apple before taking a large bite out of it. 

“Soo, Chhhaaaarlie,” She said, drawing out the first part of Eugene’s moniker for you as she chewed, making you squint a bit at the sound of her trying to talk around her bite. She paused for a bit as she finished her bite. “How do you even keep up conversations? Does it annoy you that people just kinda talk at you? Can you talk and just choose not to?”

You raised your eyebrows at her. A smirk formed on your lips at her direct questions. Most people skirted around the topic, stuttering a bit when they asked you something regarding your silence, not meeting your eyes. She made you feel like more of a person than most of the community had as a whole. You shrugged and tilted your head to the side, meeting her gaze.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” she said, squinting at you, before launching into a monologue about what she had been up to lately. How she loved learning but hated school generally, that she thought it was pointless when they stuck to the same curriculum that people had had before clickers existed. She admitted that they learned other things too, but still seemed annoyed at the concept of having to write an essay in the smallest print she could to save paper. Most other things besides notes were written on small white boards.

You got up together as you finished your respective breakfasts. She trailed after you as you went towards the stables, reasoning that you had enough time to help with the horses, but not quite enough time to go home and rest before your patrol. Ellie stopped abruptly in front of the board where name plaques hung, indicating who was on what patrol, staring at the plaque that had ‘Gabby’ written on it. 

“I didn’t know you were on patrol,” she said brightly. “Maybe I could tag along sometime.”

You gave her a disapproving look. You knew that she must know the age limit on patrols and you weren’t about to be on the wrong side of her brooding dad’s temper.

Ellie let out an annoyed and slightly childish grunt of a sigh in return. “Ugh, I thought you were one of the cool ones.” She dragged her feet as you moved further into the stables.

“Does it bug you that the thing says ‘Gabby’?” she asked quietly. You halted in your motion to grab the pitchfork. Frowning, you turned back to study her. She was far more discerning than you gave her credit for. As she looked at you, it felt like she was seeing further into you than anyone had in a long time and it made your heart stick in your throat for a moment. 

So much good could have come from a mind and heart like hers in the time before, you thought. Although, who knows, she might have been stomped on all the same, just in a different way than the apocalypse had.

After some moments of silence, you shrugged and put on a weak smile. She didn’t seem pleased with your response as she continued to stare at you. 

You nodded your head to the side to indicate that she should probably get going. You pointed at her and then signed ‘go’ and ‘school’ in ASL. You hoped someone had taught her some of the signs you used. You hadn’t ever tried to teach anyone grammar, so you stuck to the basics.

She looked at you and repeated the sign for ‘school’, clapping her hands together louder than you had. “Does that mean ‘leave me alone’?” she asked. You shook your head quickly, not wanting her to think you were tired of her. After a moment, you pointed more directly in the direction of the school and mimed a teacher in front of a board. 

“Oh, school?” she asked quickly. You nodded, the both of you smiling at the moment of shared understanding. “School,” she repeated while signing. You waved your hand in front of her face to get her attention before repeating the sign slower, showing the angle that your hands came together at. She copied you, correcting her hand placement. You nodded at her with a smile. 

“I used to know someone who used that.” She said after a moment, her demeanor changing to solemn. You felt your stomach drop. Had you sent her into a spiral by communicating? You couldn’t bear the thought that your mere existence might cause her pain even without you speaking. It was obvious that she was using the past-tense for a reason. 

After a moment, you saw her raise her glistening eyes to you. She then put a small smile on her face and surprised you by signing to you without prompting. “Endure and Survive,” she said while signing. You could tell that it meant something deeper to her, so you did the only thing you could think of that might provide support. You kept your eyes on her as you repeated the signs back at her with a more serious face than you had used before. It seemed to work, as the corners of lips turned up despite her wet eyes. 

After a moment more of silence, she abruptly turned, calling out a quick “bye!” behind her.

You stared after her before mentally shaking yourself out of your trance and picking up the neglected pitchfork to start your task. 

Not long after you finished, as you moved on to saddling your horse, a teenager you didn’t know well rushed in, looking stressed. You thought his name might be Jesse. He caught your eye and looked around the stalls. “Did you already muck the stalls?” he asked in a rush. You nodded politely. “You saved my ass!” he exclaimed, making you laugh. “I’ll update the log and get on with it then. Thank’s Gabby!” You nodded and continued your work. 

A few minutes later, you heard the crunching of leaves from outside, signifying that someone else would be joining you in the stables. Assuming it would be Eugene, you whipped around to pin him with a smirk, your hands on your hips. Your smile immediately dropped and your eyebrows shot up as you met a less familiar pair of steely eyes. Joel Miller.

Silence passed as you stared at each other, both seemingly surprised to see the other. You couldn’t quite interpret the look in his eyes at seeing you. It was obvious he thought the stables would be empty save for some stablehands, but there was something else lurking behind that reaction. Something more personal. 

The tension was broken as Eugene strolled in behind him and you both turned to face him. 

“You know each other?” He asked, moving past Joel to start saddling his own horse, aptly named ‘Spot’ by one of the younger children in town. Joel seemed to grunt before correcting himself and replying “Not really, no.” You nodded and shrugged your agreement to his assessment. 

“Joel will be joining us today. There was some evidence of more movement than usual along the trial yesterday,” Eugene explained. “I call this one Charlie, although everyone else calls ‘em Gabby. Neither of those are their name from what I can tell, but this one is just too damn polite to correct us.”

Joel studied you a moment before taking a few steps forward and holding out his hand to shake. “Joel.” he said, while you reached out your hand and shook his hand. His grip was firm and you thought maybe he looked surprised at how firm yours was in return. He probably was like the rest of town, assuming that because you could get jumpy once in a while in town and were quiet, that you were weak and skittish in general. 

“Don’t let Charlie fool you,” Eugene remarked as if reading your mind. “They are tougher than they look. And a good shot too.” 

Joel’s eye flicked down your body and back up, as if he could somehow assess whether or not you could shoot straight by looking at you. You were a little taller than average for your body type, but the rest of you gave nothing away. After a moment, he either found what he was looking for or gave up, as he turned toward the horse he favored, who was named Whiskey. 

You finished saddling your horse, Nightshade, and then caught Eugene’s attention while indicating that you needed to go check out guns for patrol. Eugene said “Go on ahead, we got ours on the way in.” Going up the gun shed, you checked out a pistol and a bolt action rifle, before smiling at Robin behind the counter. You were 80% sure that the teenager you had seen earlier was her son. 

When you arrived back at the stables, Eugene and Joel were finishing up. 

“Let’s go.” Joel gruffly said.

“After you,” Eugene replied, staying in the stall as Joel strode past. You followed Joel out of the stables, leading Nightshade behind you, hearing Eugene fall into place behind you. As you reached the front gates, you all waited as the tall gates were pulled open for you. 

“How often have you done Elk Creek?” Eugene asked, side-eyeing Joel. 

“Only a few times. I generally go on Alpine Valley or Teton Village.” Joel replied.

“Well, good thing you’re paired with Charlie and I then,” Eugene said, swinging up onto his horse. 

Joel grunted, although you couldn't tell if it was warily or in agreement, following suit as he mounted Whiskey. You jumped up as well and maneuvered yourself in front. You always loved the first glance out into the wilderness when the gates opened. Despite the fear that an open landscape had instilled in you throughout the outbreak, it also allowed you to take deeper breaths. Some days everything about you seemed like a contradiction. 

“Charlie’ll lead the way,” Eugene explained. Falling in step behind you next to Joel. 

The next ten minutes were spent in relative silence as you made your way towards the regularly trodden path towards Elk Creek. Your eyes darted around, wary of any movement you saw in the wind. 

Eugene called up to you as you began to enter a thicker area of trees. “They said that there were a lot of footprints overlapping about a mile before the cabin. Said there were definitely some infected if the wonky path they led was any indication, but that there were some other tracks that seemed to cross paths with them that had a straighter trail. Keep your eyes peeled.”

You stuck your arm to the side and gave him a thumbs up, not wanting to become distracted from the path ahead. You pulled your rifle off your shoulder and held it across your front, adjusting the reins until you were satisfied that you could set up a shot and fire quickly if needed.

“Y’all run into infected or raiders on this trail together before?” Joel gruffed. 

“Quite a few times actually, but none were too iffy. Charlie is the kind of person you want as your backup in those situations. Got their head on straight, especially on patrol. And one of the only people I’ve never known to not talk too much and distract their partner.” Eugene replied.

You smirked from your place in front of them, feeling slightly bashful to be talked about so directly.

Joel cleared his throat, “From what I’ve heard so far, I’m more worried about you, Eugene.”

Eugene let out a laugh. “Well, that might be a bit true. I know when to be quiet. Between us three and your kid, I think we fill in the full spectrum of chattiness.”

Joel puffed out a small laugh. “She could learn a few things from - uh - Charlie here on that one.”

You dragged your eyes away from the path ahead to look back and catch Joel’s eyes. Once your eyes locked, you lifted the edges of your lips up and shook your head.

“Charlie seems to have the opposite effect on those around ‘em. As soon as they walk into a room, I swear the room gets louder, but not due to anything they do. People just seem to take Charlie’s silence as an invitation to unburden themselves of any thoughts they’ve ever had.” Eugene remarked good-naturedly. 

You left out a small laugh at that. You heard the steps of one of the horses behind you stop momentarily at the sound. You bit your lip, wondering if Joel was surprised that you could make any noise at all or if it was something else about your laugh that had surprised him. You mentally shook your head to focus back on the task at hand. You were always nervous in front of new people, but out here, that wasn’t what was important. 

Eugene and Joel continued chatting behind you as you rode. Well, to be fair, it was mostly Eugene talking, with grunts and one-word replies from Joel. When you were about a mile out from where the tracks had been seen, you held your hand up to stop the two behind you. You turned back and signed ‘voice lock’ back to Eugene, to indicate that it was time to stop chatting. Eugene straightened on his horse, but said nothing. 

“What’s that mean?” Joel asked. 

“It means it’s time to stop yackin’, at least out loud” Eugene replied at a lower volume than he had been using before. 

Joel grunted his assent and kept quiet. 

As you rounded the next curve in the trail, something up ahead caught your eye. It looked like a flash of something shiny, which spurred you into action. You halted Nightshade and brought your rifle up, looking through the scope towards the glint. You heard the other two stop behind you. After a moment, you found what had caught your attention, but it only confused you more. 

Tied to a branch amongst the trees far ahead, someone had tied a silver ribbon. An uneasy feeling overtook you as you stared at it. It seemed deliberately put there, but why?

After a moment of tense silence as you looked around the area through your scope hoping to find any further indication of what it could mean, you heard a sudden thrashing sound from both sides of the path. 

You quickly shouldered your rifle and began to unholster your pistol as you heard Eugene and Joel yell something unintelligible to each other. 

A moment later, as you were flicking the safety off of your pistol, you heard a shot ring out from your left. You turned quickly to look towards where the shot came from just as a strong hand grabbed onto your right leg, causing you to cry out in surprise. 

You hear Eugene shout your name as a pain sliced through your calf, and suddenly, you were falling diagonally back off of Nightshade as a force pulled you sideways just as Nightshade reared up on her hind legs. You desperately put the safety back on your gun as you furtled towards the ground.

[grilledcheese-savage]

Okay guys! I’ve checked over and edited this form and since the Etsy isn’t working yet, if you would like to buy now, it’s strictly through cashapp 😅

I hope the Etsy store gets back up, but it’s not looking like it. If you would like to buy these awesome keychains, then please fill out the form, I’ll email you your receipt and make sure you send me/I send a request for you to pay for the keychains.

I also decided on doing the rainbow film background, but kept the clear epoxy up for sale in case you’d like them better (I’m not getting a sample for it, since the background will be the same as the Nya and Jay keychains)

Edit: Just realized not all of my keychain posts have the price on here. For one keychain it’s ten dollars (not including the shipping) Once you order from the form I will calculate your shipping and it add it the total when I send you the order confirmation! Thanks

Happy Shopping, and thanks to all the people who have been so patient and supportive of me!

[thornestar]

Exactly how much money should I have to burn before you follow through on your promises?

[coffee-and-geto]

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY PANTIES?”

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: in a lazy, hot summer afternoon, it’s your boyfriend’s turn to do the laundry. but why doesn’t he respond when you’re asking where’s your panties?

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, gojo is your boyfriend, needy! gojo, cute! gojo, fluff, nipple play, panties sniffling, masturbation (m), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, sex (p in v), also based on a @/yunonoai’s comic!

wc: 2,128

“Babe, can you do the laundry? I have a call.”

“Sure,” Satoru replies, standing up from the couch where he was lazily lying down, chilling out in front of some tiktoks.

He steps towards the bathroom, the laundry hamper waiting for him to be emptied and washed. With a resigning sigh, he looks down at the heap of dirty clothes. One of them overhangs them all: your favorite panties — the one he bought you last month. 

The lace surrounds with finesse the satin fabric of your favorite color.

So how can he not be hard at the only sight that reminds him how long you both haven’t had sex?

Fuck.

His breathing becomes heavier, each inhaling being a trial to not pay attention to the prominent bulge swelling down his gray jogging pants. Of course, the memory of your whimpers will always be like music to his ears, the fwap sounds of his cock buried deep, so deep, inside of your wet pussy, and his balls, so much filled with his cum and tightening when he's about to climax, slapping against your ass at each pound into you.

He is grouching now, at the edge of whining in need of your full attention — but of course, you needed to have a call at this very moment.

His hand twitches to his crotch, palming his already hard erection through the soft fabric of his pants, electricing at quiet moans, Satoru’s beautiful face wincing in pleasure. He swallows thick, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gives in. With messy movements, he lifts up his black shirt to grab the hem at his watering mouth and muffle his cute sounds between his clenched teeth and jaw. The fresh air blow at his hard abs, making him tensing his belly with scorching skin.

His big, calloused hand fiddles with his erection, so ready to free himself from the torturous sensation of your pretty panties, which he holds between his fingers and brings to his nose to inhale your scent, which makes him like a little puppy for you. Satoru utters a desperate whimper and finally buries his hand under his clothes to release his quivering cock.

It’s much bigger than usual, beads of precum glistening on the angry red tip, and veins sinuating the flesh. Of course, it’s perfect. That’s why it will never seem strange to anyone to see him stroke himself. He lazily fucks his tight fist, picturing your sweet pussy as he closes his eyes, beads of sweat leaking from his temples a flush spreads all over his cheeks.

His length girth throbs between his digits, coursing waves of lust through him as Satoru quickens the pace, as the same as his heartbeat. Saliva damps the fabric of his black shirt, and the idea of substituting the hem of his shirt with your panties carries out straight away, increasing his arousal until it’s twitching in a maddened way. With each stroke, the pre spreads along his shaft to allow it to be lubricated, at the point that if you all of a sudden show up in the bathroom, you both can skip the foreplay but damn!

“Toru? Did you see my panties?” Your voice echoes through another room.

But he doesn’t answer anyway.

“Fuck,” he grunts in a quiet whine, “miss you so much, babe.” His balls tighten, following the next moment — and it doesn’t take that much time he expected, because a few seconds after he twists his wrist in an upstroke movement — the exact way you’d do to him — he’s already cumming on the heap of laundry, dirtying them even more they already were, puddles of a viscous liquid, spreading out in droplets as the orgasmic peak subsides.

Panting heavily, he doesn’t hear you burst into the bathroom as you exclaim, “Satoru? You serious? Look at the state of the laundry now!”

With a swift gesture, he removes your panties from his mouth and turns his head suddenly towards you. He’s unable to justify himself and simply watches your disapproving pout ruffle your pretty lips. “Sorry babe, I'll clean it up.” He also notes how your mere presence makes him hard immediately despite having softened a moment earlier with the moment of “relief” he wished to provide for himself.

“Where are my panties?” you ask a second time as you rummage, eyebrows furrowed, through the basket of dirty laundry.

Satoru rubs the back of your neck nervously and hesitates to hide your underwear in his palm. “Uh... here,” he murmurs softly, slightly discomfited as you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“You’re that much needy?”

Satoru looks down, a little boyish pout on his lips that breaks your heart. “Sorry...”

Your frown softens. “Oh, um— No, Toru, please don’t gimme that look,” you whisper, walking over to him, your hands instinctively cupping his cheeks to make him look down at you. “I’m sorry, my love. You need to tell me when you need me, okay?”

Satoru nods slowly, still guiltily pouting. “Can I have you? Please? Just one round, I swear I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs.

His request makes your lips curl up. “My boy does want me? You’re cute, almost begging like this.” You graze a kiss on his cheek. “Get on your knees.”

“Like that?” His knees make contact with the floor, his cock still outside his dangling jogging suit. He so fucking cute, listening to you so obediently.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding pants down your thighs. Your black panties hug the swell of your hips, your intoxicating scent spreading toward Satoru’s nostrils.

He moves towards you using his knees to grip your hips and sniff your scent once more. The action makes you giggle so much that it makes you suck in a breath when he pulls down your underwear to kiss your groin. “Love you,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, please.”

“Satoru, just wait I—” But he cuts you off, darting out his tongue to lick a strip enough to feel your bundle of nerves. A moan escapes your lips, driving your breath as crazy as he’s doing with his skillful mouth.

“You’re dripping,” Satoru comments, kissing your lower lips swiftly before grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, dropping you off the washing machine. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled, all needy and flushed to eat you out.

And how long he hadn’t—

It’s like he’s drunk on you, ignoring your moans and whimpers as he rests his cheeks on your inner thigh to wrap his wrist around your thighs. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your thighs, trapping you firmly. “Keep ‘em spread, baby,” he purrs, lapping your soaked core and sensitive, puffy clit. “It tastes s’good, I’ve missed you.”

His dick twitches and throbs afterward, your sweet sounds re-hardening him and making him more swollen than he was even after the few rubs he did to relieve himself.

“Hmm, ah, Satoru, you—” you trail off, throwing back your head against the wall, your hands grabbing the washing machine’s edge until your knuckles turn white. “I’ll be close, I—” you babble, and the realization of how much not having sex with him for so long is turning you into a virgin-like. And also, the clenching feeling of your pussy, lips parting and closing around nothing hits you so hard.

You need to cum on his cock.

“Satoru, stop,” you gasp, your fingers snaking gently through his white lock and tugging them carefully.

He stops the moment after your whine reaches his ears — a sound ringing like music to his ear. “But… I haven’t made you come yet,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly with his forefinger and middle finger. His cute pout is now begging you to give him grace.

“I want to cum on your dick,” you clarify, leaning in, your lips pressing down a gentle, loving kiss on this beautiful forehead of him.

“You sure? I haven’t stretched you beforehand.” He rises from his former crouching position and holds his sensitive length closer to your core.

“I don’t mind, I just want you right now,” you blow out, kissing his free hand.

Satoru blushes — and oh, how can anyone fall in love with this cute little face you want to madly shower with cuddles and kisses? “Can we put it in while I kiss you?” he requests, bringing his lips closer to yours.

You let out a little laugh, pressing a first kiss on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

But something makes your eyes drop lower, and you feel it. Satoru’s hand holds his shaft enough well to tap the tip and the length below on your core, teasing your squelching cunt.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, I want you n— Ah!” He shuts you down by crashing his lips on yours and sliding himself easily in you, stretching you impossibly wide. “S-Satoru, you’re bigger than usual,” you whimper. 

Your hands grab his broad shoulder, nails sinking in his compressed black shirt, lips moving on their own to taste yourself on his wet lips. His tender tongue asks to enter you, and you allow him, soft strokes on each other’s tongue.

Satoru moans in the melting kiss, waiting for you to adjust, and starts gentle back and forth hips moves, hissing through his teeth by the sweet, delicious tightness of yours. “You feel so good,” he squeals between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gasp, swallowing hard because of the different paces your brain can’t focus on — stolen kisses and perfect pounds into you. It’s so deep, so mastered, that it’s driving you mad and making you see stars.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru wraps his muscled arms around your back and encircles you flush against him, your heartbeat matching with his, and your fingernails slide down his back as you almost lose strength and balance every time his tip brushes against your cervix, etching red scratch marks for sure on his back as soon as he will remove his shirt.

With another buck before pulling out fully, he slides back in and manages to reach your deepest point, making your back arch and cry out. “Satoru, please, I’m so close,” you whine, wincing because of his hips rocking in you faster and harder. 

The washing machine sways to the same rhythm, threatening to give way under your weight. Your heavy, ragged breaths fill the air in a kind of steam room. Blood beats at your ears, your gummy walls clenching around his long, big dick without ceasing and have mercy for you.

But as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru slides your top off with a swift movement of his hand to free one of your breasts and taste the nipple. He sucks hard, tongue pulling and swirling at the nub like no other. The action makes you roll your eyes, the overstimulation engulfing you like a wave would.

He then uses his head to tease your nipple with a gentle tug, his cerulean-blue eyes captivated by your curve. You squeal, your walls swallowing up his thrusts inside you, tightening more and more until he gives in and takes you back into his arms, but this time with a hand under your thigh to lift it up and enable him to reach an even more precise and deep angle, making you scream out his name.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” Satoru warns you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and his jaw tense from clenching. “Please, where—”

“Inside me, Satoru,” you whimper in the hollow of his neck, closing your eyes before the following ride crashes the two of you.

Pussy clenching around his length, you squirt on him with a small cry, and Satoru does likewise, twitching as he grunts and his hips jerk to reach your womb and fill you up with his cum.

Muscles trembling from the aftermath, you pant against him, as weak as after an intense workout. “I’ve missed you so much,” Satoru whispers in your ear, in the same state as you. His large, quaking hands stroke your hair, soothing you.

White strings escape from your full, swollen-lipped pussy, the sound of trickling filling the silence of the room.

“I promise I’ll do the laundry, but please, can we have cuddles?” Satoru demands, blinking down at you with puppy-dog eyes.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and nod, a smile stretching your lips, as you reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Of course, my baby.”

DING DONG.

The ringing of the front door echoes in your ears and a memory pops into your head, slapping you in the face.

“Wasn’t Suguru supposed to come to borrow the washing machine here because his is broken?”

Satoru froze, flickering his eyes. “Huh?”

a/n: feelin to write something cute and smutty haha! i think writing things easy like this is unwinding me.

see how he’s so cute? 🥹 pls God give me one…

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t

[kamitv]

Higuruma’s the kinda guy that has no idea how the hell he pulled you so every time your eyes linger on him a little bit too long, he gets nervous as fuck. Sweat will trickle down the back of his neck and he gulps loudly enough for you to hear it, to which you start smiling at him.

Those wide-set eyes of his carefully drag back over to you and he notices the way you’re staring at his nose. You always gush about how much you love that part of his face and ever since then he can’t control the twitch beneath his slacks as he replays exactly why you love his nose so much in his head.

And hey, it’s no help that you’re sitting right on top of him right now. Your manicured nails that he paid for grazing all over his skin, touching his neck, his jawline, and soon his face too. Then you lean in and kiss the bridge of his nose so softly that it makes him grunt.

“You’re so perfect Hiromi,” You’d hush out to him in that tone you know drives him craze.

Higuruma is left slouching further back into the couch and spreading his legs further apart with a not-so-subtle roll of his hips upwards against you. “Please. That’s all you, sweetheart.” He tries to play it off as if he’s not complete putty in your hands but lord knows when you start trailing your touch down his breath his hitching in his throat.

You smile—a sight he can never get enough of, truly. “Take the compliment, Hiro. I’m bein’ serious…” Your fingers are wrapping around his tie now and his eyelids are all low on you.

Still trying to play it off, this time with a chuckle, he hums. “…Thank you, love.” He’s such a gentleman too, all easygoing and relaxed for you.

Which says a lot considering the kind of man he becomes while he’s fucking you.

Higuruma isn’t exactly mean, nor is he much of a talker during sex but… His cock damn sure says a lot as he later fucks up into you just to hear those sweet praises you give him.

You just love complimenting your man and he loves being complimented—honestly the perfect match for each other.

Every moan of his name that leaves your lips only drive him deeper and deeper inside you. He’s so stupidly in love with you and most times it shows through sex instead of words. Despite how he’ll have you bouncing up and down on his left curved cock for hours, this is the most passion you’ll get from the overworked man.

And when he does open his mouth to speak, your cunt is fluttering around his thick head. Whispering a crisply husk utterance of, “Fuck. Ride me, love. Ride me juuus’ like that. Y-Yeahhh. Shit. Love these fuckin’ hips, don’t stop movin’ ‘em.”

Your moaning grows louder by the second and he’s guiding you up and down his dick, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every perfect slam of your ass down onto him. His groans are so deep that they practically bounce off of the walls of your living room, leading you to clamp around him tighter than before.

Higuruma especially loves your nails for some reason. He can’t get enough of how they feel ghosting his skin every time you move your arms or whenever you move to grab ahold of his face and lean down to kiss him. That’s why he’s always paying for them (even though he secretly loves spoiling you too).

Then, when you get a bit more confident and slip your hands down to hold onto his arms, he groans again. His grip on your hips would tighten and there’s just one wet plop after another while you ride him in earnest.

Which is what prompts filthy words to pour out of his mouth like, “Uhuh, fuck yourself on my cock, pretty girl. C’mon, you can do it. Make yourself feel good. Use me baby, use me.”

Again, he’s not much of a talker but sometimes you cause the words to just spill from his lips. While he’s spewing filth out to you, you’re getting closer and closer to a messy release. It’s right as you’re about to cum that he demands you look him in the eyes (no matter the position) so that he can watch them gloss over as you cum all around his girthy cock.

You look so fucking gorgeous when you come undone too—it’s a sight Higuruma simply can’t get enough of. Half the time, he ends up fucking his cum up into you just because of that look alone. You wouldn’t even be able to move or run from his deep thrusts, feeling every inch of his carry against your walls until his cum is fucked all the way in to the point that it’s dribbling out of you.

It’s messy but, he loves it. He loves you. And even after sex, he still doesn’t understand how the hell he’s managed to bag a beautiful woman such as yourself…