#He came out pretty aggressively blue in this one

[doodle-chubbs]

Get squished, idiot!!!!!!!!!!

[murdrdocs]

cervix hitting, recording, slightly smug clark tehe w/ CLARK KENT MDNI 18+

"clark!"

the way you squeal your boyfriend's name now is a lot different from the way the same syllables escaped your mouth just a few minutes ago. then, you were a little peeved, having said his name sternly whenever he aggressively attempted to get you to answer a question. you know it was his goal—get you to answer whatever question he asked instead of letting your avoidance slide. it was an idea pitched by lois. she alleged that clark was too nice on interviewees.

"his time with superman has softened him. he needs some edge," came her explanation.

so of course, you volunteered to help your boyfriend out. you posed as an interviewee, sat in his living room, and let him record whatever questions the two of you would discuss.

and when things got heated, you sternly said his name. now, though, your squeal is completely different.

it's pleasurable, for one. there's a slight shake to your words, prompted by the way clark is bouncing you on his cock with his hands. there isn't a lick of sternness in your tone now, even though you're trying with all your might to muster it up. but the only thing you can muster up right now is more squeals of clark's name.

"yeah?" he asks, all smug and steady even though he's exerting himself just as well as he's exerting you. his dimples pop at the sides of his grin, his blue eyes are lidded in the way only sex could cause. "what is it, honey?"

you try to let out a frustrated groan, but what comes out instead is a throaty whine.

clark laughs this time. he slows you down, holding his hands on your hips and keeping you situated on his lap. his movements don't completely stop, though. his hips gently push up into yours, driving his cock just the extra couple of inches deeper needed to punch against your cervix.

you gasp and slump forward until your head rests in the crook of clark's neck. without missing a beat, clark wraps his arms around the center of your back.

"you still doing okay up there?"

you don't answer. you can't. not when clark is pushing right up against your cervix. you dig your fingertips into the flesh of his shoulders and bite down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. you've also stopped yourself from speaking.

"hm?" clark asks, "you still with me, pretty?"

your answer is immediate now. you nod, telling him that yeah, you are still with him. after a moment, you add, "barely," with a breathless laugh.

clark shares the sound with you. he holds you tight against him as he starts to move. he twists to the side until he's laid you down flat against the sofa. he has one leg pressed into the cushion, and his other foot pressed into the ground. then, without unsheathing at all, he returns to fucking you.

laid back like this, you can't hide from clark's gaze and you figure that's why the two of you are in this position in the first place. he's always been incredibly vocal about how much he enjoys watching you take him.

he tells you so now.

"you look so pretty," he says. "love watching you take my cock like this. you feel good? yeah?" you nod, unable to do much else. "how deep can you feel me? show me where."

with an embarrassingly shaky hand, you place your palm right against your bladder. clark whistles lowly and shakes his head.

"jeez."

you nod. "yeah, jeez."

clark licks his lips and turns his head for a second. you don't know what catches his eye, at least not at first, but when he turns back to face you he has that glint shining in the blue.

one hand presses into the sofa above your head while the other sinks down until he can wrap his fingers around your wrist. he drags your hand down, resting it over your clit.

"you know what to do," he assures. and you do. you single out your favorite fingers and begin to tweak your clit. it doesn't feel nearly as good, not since you've gotten so accustomed to clark's soft hands doing it for you, but the added pleasure kicks in instantly.

your back arches off of the sofa as you push your greedy cunt further into clark.

"tell me how good you feel, honey," he pleads, "i need to hear it."

again, you quickly follow his directions.

"you're making me feel so good, clark. i can't ... i can barely take it." you're gasping the words out.

"you can take it." his words are low and a little breathless. most of all, they're earnest. when he says it like that, of course you believe you can take it.

"i can take it, i can take it." you start to repeat it like a mantra.

"yeah, there you go, thereeee you go." you don't notice his hand slipping back down to your stomach until he's pressed onto your bladder. you gasp, sharply. you squirm for a second but clark shakes his head. "it's okay, it's okay. i promise. just take it, okay? make us proud."

you just have enough in you to question, "us?"

"yeah," he nods. "me here and now, and both me and you when we listen to this tape later."

it's only now when you remember the recorder sitting on the coffee table. it's still recording, something you made sure of since clark still hasn't gotten the hang of it, and you know it's expertly picking up every word, every breath, every drive of clark's cock into you.

you don't say anything before your orgasm unexpectedly knocks into your body thanks to this new information.

clark helps you ride it out with a grin the entire time.

[juletheghoul]

AN: I miss Joel. That's it, that's the note. Enjoy this vengeful, ass-kicking Joel. (There will be a part three although I'm not entirely sure what it'll include. Message me about it!) (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine) **This is a follow-up to Grown**

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker, Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, **warning** sex work that turns into assault very quick, domestic violence from a customer, violence from Joel (not to you) age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, fear, **trauma**

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Read part one Masterlist 

-----

You whimper, and not with pleasure. He was squeezing too hard, moving too roughly and it was starting to hurt. 

“Honey, slow down a little, you’re hurting me.” You try to stroke the pale skin of his back, soothe him into calming down a bit, but he lets out an angry huff and the alcohol you’d smelled on his breath and on his clothes when he came in hits you square in the face. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up and let me finish?” He seems to speed up, chasing his pleasure so hard it burns now, the tiny bit of arousal you’d worked up had dried right the fuck up. 

“I will but please, I need you to slow down, it’s starting to really hurt–” The crack was hard enough, shocking enough to freeze the words in your mouth and steal the breath from your throat. The back of his hand had caught you perfectly on the side of your face, close enough to your eye to make it feel like he’d knocked it out of the socket. Something, a ring? Had definitely cut into your skin. You brought your hand up, and saw the evidence of it on your fingertips. 

“For fuck’s sake.” His cock softened, seemingly losing his interest in your services. He pulls away, angrily grabbing his clothes from where he’d tossed them on the floor and started dressing. 

“God, you just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut, could you.” It’s not posed as a question, more of an angry grumbling. Your heart raced, fear gripping you enough to chill you to the bone, eyes darting to the baseball bat hidden behind your little dresser. It’s a risk to go for it, because if he wrestles it from you, things could get very ugly. You kept quiet. He sits on the bed, and stays eerily still for a moment. You hold your breath, hoping he’ll just leave.

“And to think, I was going to pay you for that.” He turns and there is nothing but aggression in his icy blue eyes. Blood pools and drips down onto your breast but you know in your heart you cannot look away from him. You ignore the pounding pain, the blood in your vision making half the scene red, and keep your attention on him. 

“How many people have you fucked this week?” He gets up, looking around suspiciously, as though he’ll find clients hiding in the walls. You don’t answer. He opens your drawer, seeing the rags and some clothes, but then he spots the small bundle of rations you’d saved, and he swipes them. A week's worth of food and supplies you kept for emergencies and you’re horrified to see him smile cruelly, and slip them into his pocket. 

“Stop–I need those, they’re mine!” You stand, indignant to be hurt, and robbed by this fucking kid, barely twenty and already on the path to destruction. 

“And what the fuck are you gonna do about it? Tell FEDRA I robbed you? You gonna tell them about your little side-hustle too?” You approach him, naked with the fear momentarily replaced with fury but he shoves you back, laughing. “Stupid whore, this is recompense for your bullshit.” With that he leaves, laughing hard as the door slams behind him. 

It's hours before you pick yourself up off the place you landed on the bed, finally heading to your tiny bathroom to clean and treat your face. That’s when you cry. The sight of your swollen eye, the jagged cut that missed it by a miracle pulling sobs thick with despair from deep in your chest. It wasn’t an easy life, the one you’d created for yourself in this dystopian fucking nightmare, but it had worked for you, you’d compartmentalized it enough to almost think you were lucky. 

That little shit had scratched the varnish off, exposing the rusted surface of everything underneath. He’d reminded you, and now with your face in this state, there’s no way you’d forget again. 

-

Beads of sweat collects, and slides down your neck to soak through your sweatshirt. That’s fine, you can deal with a damp shirt, what’s worse is when they fall into the cut under your eye, every drop like a tiny, salty knife. It irritates you but you cannot afford to leave before the shift is done, with your stash stolen, and your face in this state you cannot replenish it for a while. You can’t even afford to head straight home after this round of cleanup, you’ll have a tiny break, and then move onto whatever else is available. This is your life for the next couple of weeks. 

So you buckle down, you focus, and when you’re done you collect your payment and move onto the next. 

You almost start to feel better after the little break, despite being on the gruesome duty of piling dead infected into the QZ’s paltry version of a funeral pyre. Your luck isn’t to last though. Joel has also signed up for this duty, his big frame and grey hair so distinct as he joins the tiny group of you waiting for the truck to arrive. He catches your eye for a moment and does a double take, his usual show of pretending there’s no recognition gone and replaced with a confused, almost furious frown. 

You cannot parse what that look means. Whether it’s worry, confusion at seeing you out working, or just plain disappointment you cannot know for sure. What it feels like, is a sinking stone in your belly and so you look away, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt up and over your head and pulling the bandana around your neck up to cover your mouth. 

The work is hard, but you don’t complain, you push through, ignoring the smells and the sights in front of you. His eyes track you though, even though he doesn’t speak to you. At one point you feel him beside you, his arm pressing against yours as you both reach into the back of the truck to grab whatever nameless, faceless infected thing is closest and wordlessly you both carry it over to the pit. A momentary synergy shared between two people who refuse to break the tense silence. 

It’s ghoulish, the whole thing but you breathe through it, focus and count down the hours. You take comfort in the fact that nothing lasts forever, not this job, not this day, not the pulsing ache in your face, not this fucking melancholy that has you in it’s grip. Not even Joel’s silent, questioning stare. Soon you will be done, you will have been paid for this awful assignment and you’ll be free to go home and sleep for a day. 

Joel lines up behind you when the proverbial whistle blows, and you can feel the almost accusatory way he stares into the back of your head but you ignore him, you collect your payment and you haul ass back home, feeling his eyes until you duck out of his line of sight. 

-

They all know you’re out of commission, the regulars that make up your week, and so everything is quiet when you get home. Until the knock sounds a few hours later. 

You don’t open the door, a bolt of fear strikes through your being at the sound, that little shit could have come back; you were an easy target after all. 

“Who is it?” You grab the bat from behind the dresser, a white-knuckle grip on the handle just in case. 

“It’s Joel, can I come in?” You sigh. 

“Not right now Joel, I’m not working. Come back in a couple of weeks.” You set the bat down.

“I know, I’m not here for that, can I just talk to you? Let me in, Pretty.” His voice sounds clipped, despite his term of endearment. 

“I don’t think you can call me that just now.” 

“Pardon’?”

“Nothing.” You open the door, and greet the wall of him. “I’m not in the mood for visitors right now Joel, I’m sorry.” You cross your arms in front of you, containing the mess of emotions as best you can. He frowns, and you see the hardness of him, the anger and the aggression he never brought to your door. 

“What happened? Who did that to you?” He stares at the swollen mess of your face and you know he sees all of it. The jagged cut, the broken blood vessels in your eye and all of a sudden you feel naked and raw, so much more exposed than you’ve ever felt with your clothes off. 

“Just some stupid kid.” You lower your gaze. 

“What kid? Tell me.” He takes a step forward and you don’t flinch, but you do back up a little bit, unconsciously. “I’m not gon’ hurt you, Pretty. Can I come in? I just wanna talk.” He holds his hands up like you would when approaching a wild horse, or in your case, a wounded dog. 

“Sure. I know, I’m sorry.” You back up and he tsks. 

“Don’t you be apologizin’ to me.” He steps inside, kicking his boots off before gesturing to your table. You follow him and sit opposite. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” He pulls his chair forward, tentatively raising his hands towards you and you let him come close. His fingertips are feather soft when they turn your injured side towards his eye. Something slithers and coils around your heart, wreaths its way through your brain, whispering nonsense about how nice it is to see him this worked up about your state. You shove it away. 

“I was working.” You avoided his eye, uncharacteristically embarrassed about your means of making a living, “he was getting a little rough-“

“Rough how?” His anger swells, a grotesque balloon filled with something sinister. You didn’t want to get into the nitty gritty with him, but something in his expression told you he wasn’t leaving without hearing the whole story.

“We were in the middle of it, and he started going too fast, too hard and well, it wasn’t the most arousing thing so, it was burning and I just asked him to slow down.” You took a deep breath, trying to lower your rapidly rising heartbeat, “I just wanted him to slow down, I asked him and he cracked me with a backhand.” 

His jaw clenched, and he scooted a little closer. 

“He stopped after I started bleeding. I didn’t want him to do anything else so I stayed quiet, I didn’t go for the bat, but he was really mad and then he fucking robbed me.”

“He robbed you?” Any warmth in Joel’s eyes disappeared, ice crawled through your veins at the tone of his voice and it was as though a stranger sat in front of you. You nodded.

“What’d he take?” 

“About a week's worth of work. I had my emergency stash there in the first drawer and he took them. I tried to stop him because fuck, you’re gonna hit me and then on top of that steal? He just shoved me, laughed and told me I wasn’t gonna do anything because it’s not like I can report him to FEDRA without them being up my ass about all this—“ you gestured to the bed with open arms, your little life here, as fucked up as it was, still yours nonetheless. You let go of the breath in your chest, resigned, deflated. 

“He just laughed, and left.”

He said nothing. He sat there, listening to you vent until you met his eyes again. 

“What’s his name?”

“What does it matter, there’s nothing I can do, I’ll just avoid him and be a little more careful about who I let in here.”

“What’s his name, can you please tell me that?” His voice is soft, but it doesn’t match the expression on his face. You have a nagging suspicion that if you tell him, you’re opening a door to something that you will not be able to contain. On the other hand, that would imply that he’d go all cowboy on this kid for smacking you up, that wouldn’t make sense. Joel wouldn’t do that, in order for him to do something like that you’d have to think he cares, and that’s a dangerous road to tread down, he doesn’t. This is just another example of him trying to be soft. You tell him the kids name, and scatter caution to the fucking wind. 

He says nothing. 

“Thanks for checking up on me, I am exhausted.” You get up and he stares up at you for a moment before following. 

“Get some rest, keep that bat near you and if that little cocksucker comes back ‘round, I want you to take out his fuckin’ kneecaps. You hear me?” He slips his boots on, making you smile your first smile since the incident. He smiles back, encouraging you regardless. 

“Bye Joel.”

“Bye Pretty.”

-

Joel saw red. A bloody haze over everything and it only got worse when he realized that half of her vision had probably been the same when the injury was fresh. The nerve of that fucking animal, to smack her around because he couldn’t keep his dick hard, or because he didn’t know how to be with a woman, or whatever other bullshit excuse he’d made up in his head to justify his behaviour. 

He took a deep breath, stalking down the street to find out exactly where this little cocksucker was. He had no doubt he’d find out, no one had managed to stay hidden if Joel needed to find them. Not yet anyway, and he had no reason to believe this kid would be the first to achieve it. So he got to work. 

He bribed, and asked around, he worked methodically through his more informed contacts and finally hit the jackpot. His contact had heard of some stupid kid, laughing about having stolen a fat wad of rations from some ‘dumb whore’, that it’d been so easy, that he had half a mind to go back and take more, take everything. His jaw clenched at the news, thanking his contact while almost blind with rage. 

He didn’t even pretend to think things through, he followed the tip he’d gotten and made his way over to where he might find his target. There was a speakeasy in the QZ that he’d heard about, that he’d been in before but didn’t frequent. It was usually full of the younger, wilder guys that had no qualms and no sense. They served barely passable alcohol, nothing anyone would have paid a cent for in the before time, the patrons didn’t know that though, how could they? Anything worth drinking definitely wouldn’t be found there.

It was late, and so there weren’t very many patrons. They looked at him with curious, suspicious eyes when he made his way through to the bar. The man behind it knew Joel, and raised his eyebrows to see him there, frowning very quickly after he’d come to the conclusion that if Joel was here, something was wrong.

“Hey Joel, everything okay?” The bartender's voice was nervous, “Can I get you anything?”

“You got anythin’ worth drinkin’?” 

“Not really, not by your standards. There’s some decent gin, It’s almost good.”

“Sure.” He accepted the glass, and took a sip. It was awful, but it burned in his throat, helping to ground him enough to look around. “You know anyone by the name of Andrew?” 

“Think so, young kid? Blonde?” Joel didn’t fail to notice the relief on the bartender's face, he wasn’t the target, and so he was all too happy to help find the real one.

“Think so, I reckon he’s been talking a lot of shit about robbin’ a girl-”

“Oh, yeah. That’s him right there.” The bartender subtly gestured to a group of three standing a few feet to Joel's left, the taller one fitting the description, a shit-eating grin plastered on his moon-face. Joel shot back the rest of the piss being passed for gin and made his way over to his target. 

“You Andrew?” He interrupted the kid mid-sentence, barely containing the fury inside. 

“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” He looked Joel up and down, his lip curled in disgust. Joel assessed him right back, he was tall though not as tall as himself. He was sinewy, all angles and hunger. He tipped his glass back as Joel sized him up and he saw the ring on his pinky, something ugly and misshapen and all at once the fury swelled and flooded him like the beach at high tide. 

“You hear me old man? I said who the fuck are you?” His two friends laughed, unthreatened by Joel’s presence. 

“I heard you smacked a girl around, a girl you couldn’t keep your pencil-dick hard enough to fuck and then you robbed her like a dirty, little fuckin’ rat.” They all shut up after that. 

“That true? That what you been sayin’? Or are you keepin’ that second part out?” Andrew’s eyes widened for a moment, before he got ahold of himself once more.  

“I don’t know about no girl, I taught some whore a lesson–” Joel’s hand shot out, almost faster than his mind could catch up and grabbed the kid by the hair and slammed it as hard as he could into the edge of the bar. There was a satisfying crunch when his nose broke. 

There were very few people in the place watching what happened, none of them batted an eye.

“Oh, okay, kinda how I’m teachin’ you a lesson right now, ain’t that right boy?” He held him up by the back of the head, satisfaction filling him with warmth at the way the kid cried and bled like a stuck pig. His friends were screaming, indignant at the assault but Joel was ready. The knife that usually sat in his pocket filled his hand now, shiny and glinting with the threat of violence. He pointed it at the two other boys and suddenly, their loyalty was paper thin. 

“This ain’t for either of you, but it could be.” Joel watched them, daring them to challenge him, they ducked their heads and ran out. 

“Now. I think I misheard you before.” Joel pulled the kid closer, yanking on his hair to make him look into his face. Already, purple was blooming under this kid's eyes, his nose was definitely broken, and he had a cracked front tooth. “I reckon you said ‘whore’, you wanna run that by me again?” 

Andrew coughed, spitting blood out onto the floor, any and all bravado gone in the face of real danger. All too soon he’d given up, all fucking day Joel’s bones had itched to fight this kid, to make him hurt. 

“You hear me boy? I asked you a question, you wanna talk about her like that again?”

“No sir.” He wheezed the answer out, ‘sir’ now, instead of ‘old man’. 

“S’good to hear, you robbed her too huh?” He rummaged through the kids pockets while he stood there, finding a small stack of rations and he pocketed them. “This it?” 

“I used some, but that’s most of it.” He pressed his sleeve gingerly to his nose, wincing when he touched it. 

“Here’s what’s gon’ happen. You, are never to even fuckin’ look at that girl again. If I even hear about you bein’ near her place, approachin’ her on the street, given’ her so much a dirty fuckin’ look, you even speak her name again–I’ll kill you. You hear me boy?” He tightened his grip on the kids hair, relishing the way he grit his teeth against it. 

“Yes sir.” 

“Come again?”

“I said, yes sir.” Fire blazed in the kids eyes, but he didn’t fight back. 

“S’good, s’what I like to hear. Now, you ever second guess what I’m tellin’ you now, you ever forget about this right here-” He flicked at the kids nose, eliciting a response much more violent than the initial break, “you go ahead and ask around about me, I’m Joel, and there ain’t no one in this place that’s gon’ hide you from me. You got that?” He let him go, shoving him back hard enough that he fell on his ass. He pulled the little bundle out of his pocket once more, tapping it against his open palm. 

“Whatever is missin’ from here–you’re gonna replace it. By tomorrow. You find me, and pay it back. Do not make me come lookin’ for you because I’ll break a lot more then just your fuckin’ nose.” He nodded, Joel almost felt bad for him, but then he remembered that this piece of shit had laughed at her. He’d hurt her, stolen from her, and then laughed. Any and all sympathy dried up as fast as small town gossip. 

“Not so fuckin’ funny now huh, boy.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a curse. The anger in him burned bright enough to make his bones ache, so he left him there on the floor, and made his way home. 

-

The day had been fine, until you spotted him walking towards you on the street. It was just a glimpse of him, but you knew the gait, the shape, the flash of that stupid fucking ring. 

Your stomach sank quicker than a stone thrown in a lake, and you froze there, in the middle of the sidewalk like a fly stuck in honey; until you saw him head on. Ice crept through your veins, a lace pattern of frost replacing your nervous system at the state of him. Worse, was the matching look of fear mirroring yours at seeing you.

He didn’t take another step, once he caught sight of you, he turned and practically ran down the street in the opposite direction. 

Someone had gotten to him, and made a worse mess of his face than what he’d done to you. Joel’s face flashed through your mind as you stood there, with the vision of the kid's obviously broken nose, the purple black bruises under his eyes imprinted in your vision. 

You had to move. You made your way back to your home, almost in a daze, the vision of Andrew so injured following you around like some sort of phantasm. It occurred to you then, almost belatedly how much of a fucking zoo the QZ is, despite growing up and living most of your life there, it almost felt like you’d been living in some sort of rose coloured glass house. Recent events had seriously been one hell of a wakeup call. 

Joel was waiting on the steps outside your apartment when you got there, his expression calm, patient. It seemed absurd to say the first word, so you wait. He doesn’t make you wait for long though. 

“These are yours.” He gets up, pulling what looks to be your stolen rations out of his pocket. That same fear grips you again, but this time it’s out of your own ignorance, a deep realization that you have no idea who this man is, or what he’s capable of. And judging by the state of Andrew's face when you’d seen it, he wasn’t someone to be messed with. 

“You got them back?” 

“They’re yours, they should be with you.” It’s a roundabout answer, but you let it slide. 

“Thank you.” He puts them into your palm, and all you can do is stand there, staring at the space they took up in your hand. They were so light, such a paltry thing to make such a mess of your life. 

“Well okay then.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and you saw the glimpse of it again, a lost man, doing his best to be soft for another person. A lot of emotions hit you at once and you’re not really sure how to feel, does he feel something for you? Something beyond what clients feel for the woman they pay to fuck? It’s another one of those crossroads you seem to come to a lot when it comes to Joel, one side is safe and completely casual. Healthy. 

The second choice was shadowy, full of uncertainty and very real danger. He gifts you with a rare smile and you return it, almost against your will. His hand comes up, and he cups your cheek so soft you begin to think you’d only imagined what you’d seen on the street, the implications of the returned rations in your hand. You begin to gaslight yourself into a normal, healthy set of feelings for this older man. 

“Joel?” He doesn’t move his hand, his fingers slide down, curling around your neck while his eyes bore into yours. Something about his expression gives you the inkling that if he could, he’d erase the injury on your face. 

“Hm?” 

“What did you do?” Your hand comes up, and rests on his. It’s warm, much too warm to belong to the person who could do what you suspected he’d done. His eyes darken a little, and you see a glimpse of something. 

“I took care of it. You don’t need to be scared of anythin’, he won’t be botherin’ you ever again.” His thumb pressed to your lip, you watched your hands press to his chest. He was so solid and warm, and despite the implications, you felt safe. Safer than any other time in your life. Your body and your brain fought tooth and nail, confused on whether to hold onto the outrageous peace he inspired, or the impending sense of doom that seemed to ripple around him like heat on asphalt. 

He comes closer, and his lips press to yours soft enough to tickle. 

Peace wins. 

He presses kisses to every inch of your face, soft and comforting, curiously paternal despite the relationship you share. The thought should disgust you, but the truth is you needed this, you crave the protection, the feeling of security he provides. 

“Come inside.” You press the good side of your face into his neck and sigh, relishing the way he surrounds you. 

“I want to, but I got some things to take care of.” He holds your face softly, presses a kiss to your forehead before herding you towards your door.

“You’ll come back though?” A pout you don’t want to give him shines out from your face.

“Yeah, ‘course I will. See you soon, Pretty.” With another press of his lips, he’s gone. 

-

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[lilaccmilk]

summary: you rescue a snow leopard! hybrid from an underground fighting rink and he gets attached to you. (this is basically GOJO SATORU X READER but no name mentioned.)

a/n: this was written keeping Gojo Satoru in mind but feel free to imagine whoever you want to.

content warning: hybrids, mention of underground fighting rinks, abuse, mention of Y/N, scenting, and fluff ig?

word count: 1.4 k

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For months you and your team had been tracking an underground hybrid fighting ring. And now you finally had the chance to raid in there and save those hybrids. You worked at a hybrid clinic and dealt with trauma hybrids and their medical health, like a doctor. Your presence was necessary to administer sedatives to aggressive hybrids. You reached the place with hybrid rescue officers, many types of hybrids were caged, surrounding a huge arena for fighting— wolf hybrids, snake hybrids, leopard hybrids, bear hybrids— you name it, they were there. Many of the hybrids just went along with the crew, some had to be lightly sedated. At the most secluded cage, you heard growling, agitated yet worried growling. “We won’t hurt you. We’re from the hybrid protection services, I’m Dr. Y/N.” You signalled the guards to put their guns down, so as to not agitate the hybrid more. “Please step out, i promise we wont’t hurt you yeah?”

Slowly you saw him step out— a beautiful snow leopard hybrid, white hair, pretty blue eyes that held the sky in them. But behind that aggressive demeanour, you could sense he was hiding pain. He had a few untreated bruises and slashes. You backed up a bit to give him space, opening then cage, you spoke in a soft voice, “Come on out now, let’s get you patched up yeah?” His eyes snapped to you, and they softened a bit. But then one of the officers came into view, and he snarled, you quickly got in between them, but too late, your hand had been scratched by him, he quickly stepped back, not looking you in the eyes.

Being deemed as the strongest in the arena had more cons than pros. Sure being respected and feared was nice, but that also meant that he was used as a weapon. Constant fights, back to back bettings, being drugged and then beaten up if he tried to rebel. He had smelled you before he heard your voice, you smelled sweet, like a spring day. And your voice felt like it belonged to one of the angels, he saw you signal the officers to put their guns down. He appreciated it, very deeply. You had beckoned him to come closer, opening the cage, you beckoned him to come closer to you— to freedom.

But then one of the officers moved, and whatever spell you had around him had been broken, he acted before thinking, lurching to eliminate an opponent. When he did see what he had done, he backed away. No no no– it wasn’t supposed to be like this, now you’d hate him and tell them to leave him and— “Hey, it’s ok. Please calm down, they’re all the good guys.” your voice interjected. Huh?

You knew he was scared. He meekly followed you, the other rescued hybrids backing off when he came into view, some out of respect and most out of fear. You made it to the animal clinic, you told him to wait in the shower room, you’d get some towels and clothes. As you were returning with the necessities, a fee officers came upto you, asking if you’d be okay, since the hybrid placed under your care is feral. Feral, that word irked you, but you kept quiet and told them that you’d be fine.

Before abruptly entering the room, you knocked, making it know you were entering.

You went in and saw him standing, in the same spot you left him in, very stiff, as if you’d hurt him if he even breathed the wrong way.

“You could have looked around you know? Will you be able to take a bath on your own, or do you want me to help?” you spoke. He looked blankly at you at first, but then his eyes softened, “I’d like your help please.” You nodded and filled the tub with water, and turned around to allow him to remove his clothes. He got in the tub and you took the shower head, making him comfortable with the water temperature. “I’m gonna wash your hair for you okay?” He nodded at that idea. You took your time with that, mainly because you could hear his purrs of contentment, you were pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was purring.

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A month or so had passed and he was very grateful. You kept him company and showed him patience. Being in the hybrid shelter was weird, but that couldn’t be helped, not until you adopted him. And he knew that he wouldn’t willingly go with someone else. You were pretty, protective, caring and you had a very soothing voice. Especially when you called him ‘snowflake’ or ‘Olaf’ (he loved watching Disney movies after you introduced him to Tangled) those silly nicknames made his heart go into overdrive. One thing that irked him was your scent— don’t get him wrong, he just hated that it contained the scent of many hybrids, he wanted you to smell like him. He wanted others to know you were his. His mate.

You knew he was very attached, and he had developed a sweet tooth. He was slowly turning into one of the most energetic person you had ever met. Always up to silly things and he loved PDA with you. The concept of personal space had now become foreign to him. He always had to have some kind of skinship with you. You wanted to adopt him. But just because of your selfishness, you wouldn’t ruin a chance for him to find a person he liked. But this season was the one where many hybrids got adopted. You didn’t want someone else to take him away from you, and you hated yourself for thinking that.

You saw him the garden, looking sad, you made your way over to him, sitting down next to him, “What happened snow?” There it was, that nickname. It made his heart flutter and his lungs stop working, he wanted nothing but to kiss you. “Nothing.” You insisted on him telling you, but then he finally spoke up, “Do you think, someone could actually think about adopting someone like me?” He wanted to know if you would, he went on about how he thought that maybe he isn’t meant to get all that. But you blurted out before you could think, “I want to adopt you. If that’s okay with of course. I mean- i totally understand if you don’t want me to adopt you. Like, we can find someone else or-“ you were cut off by him hugging you, repeatedly saying yes.

You signed those papers and took him home the same day.

He didn’t think he could be any closer to heaven when he entered your house. Your scent enveloped him. He finally let go of your hand that he had been holding since you asked him if you could adopt him.

At dinner time he practically inhaled the food. You showed him his room and bid him goodnight.

As you were in your bed scrolling through wattpad, you heard loud claps of thunder outside, it was raining. You then heard his voice on the other side of the door, you called him in. “Can I….sleep with you? I wanna cuddle” You wordlessly lifted your blanket and opened your arms, he quickly slipped in next to you.

You both laid together, his head against you chest, but then you felt him nuzzling your neck, almost as if–“Are you scenting me snowflake?” you laugh. “Mmh, yes.” he says in a cocky manner. “You should smell like me, you’re my mate.” Your eyes widen at his words. “Mate?”

He looks up, in panic, he couldn’t believe he said that out loud, “I’m sorry, are you mad? Please don’t send me back-” You cut him off with a finger in his lips, “Hey, I’m not mad, just surprised.”

“So….you accept being my mate? Once you do, be aware there won’t be any breakups like humans.” He warned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.”

He leaned in to kiss you, it was a soft kiss, like a promise, your hands threaded through his hair and you parted away, resting your forehead against his. And then you looked into his eyes, and something flips, he pulled you onto his lap, kissing you feverishly, as chaotic as the thunderstorm outside. You returned the kiss back with same fervour. You both pulled away because of the lack of air and smile. You laid back down, his arms around you. And for the first time in a long while, he slept without nightmares but rather, with contentment.

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hey guys lemme know how was it. i’m gonna make this a mini series i guess. should i? LIKES, REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[fayerie]

You, after an endless amount of failed attempts at doing a soft winged eyeliner, had Gojo Satoru, your lovely boyfriend, swing in to help, but it came with consequences.

<𝟑 .ᐟ fluff , gojo satoru x f!reader .

After scrolling past a stunning eyeliner look on Instagram — one that seemed to effortlessly complement your exact eye shape — inspiration had struck hard and fast. The attached reel promised an easy tutorial, the caption dripping with false hope: “Soft, subtle, effortless.”

Lies. All of it.

Now, you were cross legged on the bedroom floor, surrounded by a mess. Your makeup bag lay open beside you, brushes poking out like weapons of war, and a pathetic little mountain of crumpled wipes had formed nearby — the casualties of your failed attempts.

With each frustrating try, your determination only sharpened. So did the flush of irritation blooming across your cheeks. Biting lightly on your tongue, you leaned into a handheld mirror and tried again, dragging the eyeliner across your lid with painstaking precision.

The goal was simple: a soft, delicate wing — subtle and pretty. But every line curved wrong, smudged, or turned out uneven.

And each time it failed, you reached for another wipe, scrubbing at your poor eyelid with the kind of exasperation that only comes from watching hope slowly die. The skin beneath your eye had already taken on a grayish tint, stained from pigment and stubborn pride.

Naturally, that was when Satoru wandered in — somewhere around attempt number five. Fresh from the shower, hair damp and sticking to his forehead in careless strands, he was wearing his utterly ridiculous bear-patterned pajamas and working through a blue raspberry lollipop like it was a serious task.

At first, he’d collapsed onto the bed with his phone, occasionally sighing — loudly — whenever you asked him to turn the volume down so you could focus. But after a while, his phone had ended up abandoned. You, apparently, were the new main event.

You could feel his eyes on you with every swipe and every muttered curse, his silent amusement radiating like heat.

Just as you leaned toward the mirror again, liner poised, another wipe already in hand, you heard the wet click of the lollipop leaving his mouth, followed by the sound of him swallowing.

“Babe—” he began, already smug, already teasing.

You didn’t even look up. “Not a word.”

Satoru blinked, now sitting sideways on the bed with his long legs stretched out and the half-sucked lollipop resting between his fingers. He watched you for a beat, then grimaced at the way you were aggressively scrubbing your already-rosy eye.

“Okay,” he said mildly — not out of understanding, but because he was clearly calculating how to make this worse for you in the most annoying way possible. Then, humming with mischief, he added, “But what if I use my actions to deeply, passionately judge you instead?”

You groaned and flopped back against the carpet, eyeliner still gripped like the weapon that had defeated you. “I told you to shut up,” you muttered. The tutorial was still playing in the background, chipper and mocking.

You were two seconds from giving up altogether. Maybe you should’ve used tape. Maybe you should’ve abandoned the idea of looking cute to begin with.

Gojo tossed the lollipop into the trash with the lazy flair of someone who had never finished anything he didn’t feel like finishing. Then, barefoot and mildly chaotic, he padded over and crouched beside you.

He poked one of the used wipes with his toe before poking your cheek with a gentle finger. To your surprise, his touch softened, brushing over the irritated skin beneath your eye with unexpected care.

“God, babe. Did Sephora wrong you?” he murmured, inspecting the damage. “This looks like a crime scene.”

His attention shifted to the eyeliner pen in your hand. He plucked it away before you could protest, holding it up like it was some kind of forensic clue. “This looks expensive. Good quality,” he said with an approving nod. “Yep. Definitely not the liner’s fault. This one’s on you.”

You let out a frustrated groan and reached for it. “No, I almost had it. It looked good on the girl in the reel! We have the same eye shape! But my hand just… doesn’t do what hers did. Like—how did she—ugh. I give up.”

“Oh, no no no.” He held the pen aloft like a sacred relic. “You don’t give up. You call in backup.”

You gave him a deeply skeptical look. “What backup?”

He tapped the liner against his chin, grinning. “Me, duh.”

“You?” you deadpanned. “You don’t even know how eyeliner works.”

“Please.” He scoffed, settling into a seated sprawl like he was preparing to compose a masterpiece. “You’re forgetting something crucial. I’m Gojo Satoru. I could do this with my eyes closed. Actually — I could probably do it with both of our eyes closed.”

[Subtle foreshadowing: “YOU BROKE IT?!”]

Your thumb hovered over your phone. “Do you want to at least watch the tutorial?”

He leaned forward for exactly one second, squinted at the video, then waved it away like it had offended his pride.

“Ah ah ah — don’t insult me.” He said waving his index finger dangerously close to your face.

“That wasn’t an insult. You need to watch it.”

“Nope. I’m going in blind. Call it instinct. Call it divine talent. Call it—”

“Delusion.” You retorted.

He clutched his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. And yet, I still choose to bless you with my services.” He tapped your chin, then poked your cheek again. “C’mere. Let me make you beautiful.”

“I’m already beautiful.”

He grinned. “Exactly. I can only enhance.”

Without any warning, he scooped you up by the hips to which you groaned, and deposited you into his lap, adjusting your legs around him like a personal project. He pulled a pillow over, propping it on his thighs, then gently tilted your head back against it — like he was about to paint the Mona Lisa.

He grabbed a fresh wipe and dabbed carefully at the smudges under your eyes, surprisingly gentle. His fingers were light, thoughtful, and his expression took on a rare kind of focus — like he actually cared about getting it right.

Then, the eyeliner.

He uncapped it with theatrical flair, holding it like a wand or a scalpel. “Alright, babe. Look up. Don’t move. I’m about to do art.”

“You’re about to poke me in the eye.”

“That’s the risk of art.”

You stayed still, holding your breath, watching as he furrowed his brow in dramatic concentration. To your shock, his hand was steady. His touch was careful. His free hand cupped your cheek as he lined your lash line slowly, tenderly — no smudges, no veering off course. You kept waiting for the wing to go wrong.

But it didn’t.

With one final flick, he leaned back and beamed. “There. Boom.” His grin could’ve lit up the room. “Gojo Satoru — eyeliner god.”

He held up the mirror.

You blinked, tilted your head, and stared.

It was… good. Not perfect — one wing was slightly longer than the other — but it was soft. Playful. Pretty. It looked intentional, wearable. And somehow, it looked like you. And it had been done by him.

“Holy shit,” you muttered. “You actually… didn’t mess it up.”

“Excuse you,” he said, puffing his chest. “I nailed it.” He gave you the dramatic TikTok arm swing for extra sass. “Bet I could do better than actual makeup artists.”

You raised a brow. “Do you even know what this eyeliner look is called?”

“I make my own titles,” he declared. “And this one’s called 'Hot Girlfriend Who’s Probably Gonna Make Out With Me After This'.”

You shoved his shoulder, laughing as the frustration finally melted out of your system. “Thanks, Toru.”

His expression softened, grin fading into something warmer. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Then you glanced down to his hands — and froze.

“Hey! Cap it or it’ll dry out!” You said motioning to the eyeliner that he was gripping in his hand.

He raised the pen, squinting. Then blinked after further inspection, the eyeliner had cracked clean in the middle, snapped right in half, from the strength of his grip.

Your eyes widened in horror. “YOU BROKE IT?!”

He was already backing away, peeling you off his lap as he scrambled upright, laughter bubbling from his chest.

“Oops — love you!” he shouted, bolting for the door.

You launched a pillow at his retreating form. “I SWEAR TO GOD, TORU—!” but his laughter echoed down the hallway, loud and unrepentant.

But deep down, you knew — probably within the next hour — a new eyeliner would arrive. Better. Smoother. Delivered express. Along with it probably six backups, just in case.

divider by @/cafekitsune

[grudgecollector]

protective daryl is such a Must like

imagine someone’s just threatened you and he stands in front of you with one of his arms back so he can hold your hand. “you don’t talk to her” he’d growl.

after somehow sending them away he’d turn back to you and hold your face and just “you okay?” and a “i’m never gonna let anything happen to ya”

Ol' Coyote | Daryl Dixon x Reader

Tags: Swearing, smoking, protective Daryl, season 2 Daryl, light angst, mentions of past domestic violence

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I'm FERAL over protective Daryl YES GAHD

Something you'll never get from me is a non-southern reader in TWD fics.

I may have made things a little ooc with Shane, possibly just a tad more aggressive than he actually is with people confronting him. But it's for the plot of the fic.

Also I'm not sure if I really like how this turned out, but I think I've just been staring at the words too long. I hope you enjoy it either way <3

Tension was running high on the farm. A nervousness had settled over you in the last few days as you watched Shane. His erratic behavior was becoming unnerving to observe from the outside. His freshly shaved head glistened with sweat as he shook it, watching Lori practically stomp away from him after a heated conversation. 

This was what you were best at. Watching. Every move that was made within your eyesight didn’t go unnoticed, every twitch, every heavy sigh that came from the man. You always had a knack for catching things just before shit hit the fan. That was the only thing you were thankful for when it came to your ex boyfriend. 

The things Brian said and did to you during those four years were permanently ingrained in your mind. Always reminding you to keep your guard up around men who would view you as weak, feeble minded, helpless and in need of saving. Men with the kind of charm that draws you in, making you think they can protect you from the dangers of the world, when in reality they are the biggest threat to you. 

The almost sadistic glint in Shane’s eye. The way he’d suck on his teeth and laugh humorlessly. The way he watched her… It was starting to scare you a little. It wasn’t a fear you held for yourself, but for Lori, a woman tangled in a web that was impossible to escape from. 

It wasn’t hard to admit that you did not feel safe around the man anymore. That feeling started to dissipate after he proposed the idea to give up on the search for Carol’s missing daughter. He was losing his grip. Even more-so after his botched run with Otis. 

“You good?” Daryl asked, nudging his elbow into your side. 

He had something hanging from his fingers, the necklace he had gifted you a week ago. He followed your gaze as he clasped the necklace for you, fingertips guiding along your hairline softly before settling on your shoulder. 

“Yeah…” You replied quietly, turning your head to look at the man beside you, “Is it just me or is he losin’ his damn mind?” 

“Oh it ain’t just you, sweetheart.” He nodded towards Dale who was sitting atop the RV, occasionally glancing over towards Shane. 

The angered man was pacing back and forth, roughly rubbing at his chin. Whatever conversation he and Lori had seemed to have stirred him up pretty bad, you could practically see the smoke rolling off his shoulders. 

“He needs to get his shit together.” You shook your head, crossing your arms, “The way he acts just... Ugh.” 

“You can keep on hoping, but I think he’s lost his marbles a long time ago.” Daryl huffed, hand dropping down to your waist as he brought you a little closer. 

Daryl and you walked back over to his area away from the rest of the camp, your shared tent occasionally rustling under the wind. The fire Daryl built an hour ago was starting to go down, tiny flames licking pathetically towards the sky, failing to build itself back up. 

The sun was starting to set, pink and orange hues blending together with the darkening blue sky. Daryl settled next to you on the grass, his knee brushing against your thigh. 

These were the moments you cherished the most. Calm and peaceful in a world filled with unimaginable horrors. A chance to take a deep breath and forget about your worries for just a short period of time. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better to spend it with. 

Over the last few months you had spent most of your time next to Daryl. At first he didn’t seem too fond of it, occasionally glancing your way with narrowed eyes and a suspicious attitude. Like he was waiting for you to strike, trying to stay a step ahead of your nonexistent plan to rob him blind. 

In reality you just appreciated the quiet. Away from the hustle and bustle that came with such a large group of people. You wanted to keep your distance, especially when it came to the children at the camp, trying your hardest to avoid the gut wrenching feeling that came whenever you looked at Carl. Oh how innocent and naive they were in such a heartless world. 

Eventually Daryl started to warm up to your presence. Allowing you to accompany him on hunts, teaching you the basics of tracking, and how to skin animals properly. It was easy to see through him, see past his rough edges and appreciate the moments where his kindness would shine through momentarily. 

The closeness between the two of you was something you cherished deeply. Knowing that wherever you went, he wouldn’t be far behind. 

It was moments like this that you could momentarily forget the ticking time bomb that slept just a few feet away from you. The very man in question is sitting next to Rick at the group’s shared camping area, laughing almost emotionlessly at something his best friend said. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole into his head if y’keep starin’ like that.” Daryl muttered, smiling a little bit when you halfheartedly glared at him. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled, “I’m gonna head up to the house real quick, gotta use the bathroom.” 

You were quick to stand. Your fingers brushed gently through Daryl’s hair, prompting him to place a hand on the back of your calf. 

The field in front of the house was still muddy from the rain, your boots sinking in just a little with every step you made. The sound of the ground squishing beneath your feet was drowned out by laughter from the camp, Carl, Lori, and Rick huddled together in front of their own fire as they shared a can of corn. 

It made you happy to know that at least one family was able to stay together through all of this. While they may not be perfect, they were still trying to stay intact in such a hectic world, making things as normal as they could be for their child. 

“Sup lovebirds.” You greeted Glenn and Maggie as you walked up the steps to the house. Glenn rolled his eyes and gave you a tight lipped smile. He hadn’t exactly sealed the deal with Maggie just yet, the both of them tiptoeing around each other cautiously. 

“Evenin’.” Maggie smiled, nodding towards you, “Where you headed?” 

“Is it alright if I use y’alls bathroom? I promise I won’t be long.” 

Maggie tilted her head a little, “You always ask and the answers always gonna be the same.” 

You couldn't help but smile a little, “Yeah well, believe it or not my parents did teach me manners. I usually don’t like invadin’ other people’s spaces without askin’ first.” You shrugged, going to grab for the handle of the screen door. “Thanks Maggie.” 

The hinges groaned loudly as you opened it. The Greene’s home was so beautiful, a warm yellow light casting over the neatly kept rooms, picture frames of the occupying family decorated the walls. It was that sense of normalcy you had needed ever since everything started. Something reminding you that not everything had to be so terrible all the time. It made it easy to forget the reality of things. 

You walked into the bathroom and gently shut the door behind you, not bothering to glance at your reflection in the mirror. Scared of what would be staring back at you. 

By the time you opened the door again, you could hear Beth and Patricia talking in the living room. Maggie was sitting next to her sister on the couch now, Glenn must have gone back over to your group for dinner. You figured you should probably do the same thing, cook up those squirrels Daryl and you caught earlier in the morning. 

You walked back outside and unzipped the pocket to your cargo pants, a lucky find at an army supply store. The top of the crumpled red and white box flips open easily, and you pluck a half smoked cigarette out along with your lighter and begin making your trek back towards your camp. 

“Hey.” A voice stops you, Shane standing from one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

Great…

You brought the orange filter to your lips and flicked open the zippo lighter you stole from Daryl. You didn’t bother to look at the man walking towards you for more than a second, exhaling the smoke from the corner of your mouth as he got closer. 

“Can I help you with somethin’ Shane?” You asked, annoyance present in your tone.

“I don’t know, can you? Cause you seem to be starin’ an awful lot recently.” His broad shoulders rolled back a little as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“You feelin’ a little paranoid there? Intimidated by someone doing a little people watching?” 

“Don’t patronize me.” He shook his head, stepping closer towards you. 

An anxious feeling started to eat away at your stomach. You never liked when men started to close in on your personal space, even less when it was someone like Shane. The unpredictable and dangerous types. 

“I’d barely call it patronizing.” You shot back with a small shrug.. 

“You got a problem with me or somethin’? With how I’ve been handlin’ things?” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “I mean I got my fair share of issues with a lot of things, man.” He was starting to prick against your nerves, “Like you wanting to call off the search for Sophia? That was pretty fucked up.” 

“Not this shit again.” He shook his head, hands going to rest on his hips, “It’s bad enough I got to hear it from everyone else in the camp. Now I gotta hear it from the girl who’s too good to even grace us with her presence.” 

“Oh boo fucking hoo. Why is that such a big deal to you? Can’t someone just enjoy some alone time?” You scoffed, flicking off the flimsy ashes from your cigarette.

“Ain’t no such thing as alone time anymore. You gotta start contributing more to the group.” 

“Or what? You gonna boot my ass to the curb and call it a day? Seems like the kinda route you’ve been lovin’ lately.” You almost spat, an accusatory tone to your voice, “I’ve contributed plenty of my time to the group, helping Daryl with hunts and runs, making sure your bellies are full. I help wash clothes in the morning, I do daily perimeter checks with Glenn. Ain’t that enough for you?” You stepped a little closer this time, lowering your voice to harshly say, “Cause if you’re implying anything more, I ain’t doing personal tent calls like some street whore.” 

“You better watch your mouth.” His eyes were starting to get that wild look again, twitching a little when you smiled bitterly at him. 

“Did you hit your head or somethin’ when you went on that run with Otis? Is that what’s got you so fucked up? Some traumatic brain injury or some shit?” 

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, little girl? Cause I know it ain’t me.” He sized you up, chest puffed out as he got closer, but you stayed firmly planted, not allowing him to intimidate you. 

Not this time.  

“You’re fuckin’ losing it Shane, sure there ain’t many in the group that pick up on it but I sure do.” You shook your head, “All I’m sayin’ is you need to take a step back before you get someone else killed.” 

Clearly your wording made something snap within Shane. That littlest bit of self control he had disappeared, and suddenly his hands were clutching onto your biceps, blunt fingernails digging through the fabric of your shirt. 

“I ain’t getting anyone killed,” He growled out, “I keep this place safe, me. Not you, not Rick, or Daryl, Dale, none of you. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, girl, you’re barely smarter than a bag of fucking rocks. All talk and no bite.” His words punched into your harshly, he was practically snarling in your face as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were wide, fear striking through your heart as you stared at him. “Got any other smartass remarks, huh?” 

“Get your fuckin’ hands off of me, man!” You thrashed in his hold, quick to bring your still lit cigarette up and pressing it against his forearm. 

He flinched away, letting you go, and for a split second you almost thought he was about to rear back and slap you. He had that same exact look in his eyes your ex would get. 

Dangerous and unpredictable.

“Hey!” You heard an angered voice growl from behind you. 

Suddenly you felt hands on you again, making you flinch. But the hold was gentle, guiding you as Daryl stepped in front of you, his shoulders heaved with each heavy breath, clearly having run over to you as quickly as he possibly could. 

“The hell you think you’re doin’, huh?! Puttin’ your hands on her like that!” He was seething, but his hand was gentle as it held onto yours, squeezing softly as a way to reassure you. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her, y’hear me?” He growled out threateningly, his hand resting on the knife secured to his belt, ready to strike at any second. “Don’t let me catch you near her again, asshole, or it’ll be hell to pay. I promise you that.” He glared at Shane, quickly turning around and guiding you past the group’s camp. 

“What the hell is going on? What’s with all the shouting?” Rick asked, catching up to the two of you. 

“Y’better get your fuckin’ boy, Rick. Ask him to explain the situation t’you.” Daryl spat, not giving him time to reply. 

You sat back down in front of the fire, staring at the yellow flames blankly. Never did you think Shane would put his hands on you like that, but the way he had talked to you, looked at you. It was too familiar, as if you were standing in front of the direct reincarnation of a man you fought so hard to forget. 

Daryl’s hands gently held your trembling ones. His index finger and thumb came up to your chin and pushed your head up so he could look into your dewy eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, he knew that look on your face all too well, having seen it in the mirror plenty of times. 

“He ever tries anything like that again, he’s a dead man.” He stated firmly.

“I thought he was gonna hit me.” You said weakly, you hated how pathetic your voice sounded.

“I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen t’you. Not while I’m still breathing.” 

The promise would be a difficult one to fulfill, you both knew that. But the words still held weight, settling deep within your heart. You would be safe with him, you knew that.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | Independence Day

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @runnergirl234) : celebrating the fourth of july with your f1 boyfriend <3

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance & fluff ୨ৎ : tws : fireworks??? idk... ୨ৎ : word count : 3148

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : you guys should know how much of a sucker i am when it comes to introducing someone to a different culture, this was so so so fun to write🥲

ʚ・max verstappen

max didn’t get it.

“so, you just eat a lot and blow things up?” he crossed his arms, eyes narrowing like this was some elaborate prank.

“pretty much,” you said, handing him a beer.

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “you americans are insane.” but he cracked open the beer anyway.

the backyard was packed. the grill smoked, the table was buried under piles of burgers and hot dogs, and a guy in an eagle tank top was aggressively tong-flipping ribs like his life depended on it. kids sprinted past with sparklers, and someone had already set off a rogue firework that nearly took out a lawn chair.

max surveyed the chaos like he was analyzing a new circuit. someone shoved a hot dog into his hand, and he stared at it like it was an untested setup change.

“no cutlery?”

“no, max. just eat it.”

he sighed but took a bite anyway. chewed. nodded slightly. “not bad. bit plain.”

he grabbed the mustard and squeezed way too hard. a horrifying amount of it slopped onto the bun. he stared at it for a long moment before taking another bite. his expression didn’t change, but you could see the regret.

“this was a mistake.”

when the fireworks started, he barely reacted at first, just tilting his head to watch as red and blue bursts lit up the sky. the next one was louder, the kind that rattled your ribs. he flinched, just a little.

“bit excessive,” he muttered.

someone handed him a sparkler, and he held it like it might explode in his fingers.

“just wave it around,” you said. “it’s fun.”

max verstappen does not “wave things around for fun.” but after a few seconds, he started moving it in small, cautious circles, still frowning in deep concentration. then, like it was a matter of principle, he traced out the number 1 in the air.

of course.

you laughed. he shot you a glare. “say nothing.”

the grand finale kicked in, launching fireworks in rapid, ear-shattering bursts. max, now fully resigned to the chaos, took a long sip of his beer and gave a small nod.

“alright,” he admitted. “i kind of get it.”

another firework exploded so hard it shook the ground. he blinked.

“…still think you’re all insane, though.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis adjusted his bucket hat, surveying the backyard scene with an amused but slightly wary expression. smoke curled from the grill, country music blared from a bluetooth speaker, and someone was setting up a folding table for what had been described to him as “competitive beer pong.”

“you lot take this holiday seriously, huh?” he mused, sipping on an iced matcha he had brought himself.

“it’s america’s birthday,” you said.

he chuckled. “right. and what’s the game plan? burgers and blowing things up?”

“basically.”

lewis shook his head, grinning. “so, absolute carnage, then.”

he fit in better than he probably expected. within ten minutes, he was deep in conversation about plant-based grilling techniques with someone’s confused but intrigued uncle. he took over the aux at one point, replacing the country anthems with smooth r&b, nodding along as he flipped a veggie burger with the confidence of a seven-time world champion.

when someone handed him a sparkler, he twirled it effortlessly between his fingers, making little figure eights in the air. “alright, i see the appeal,” he admitted, watching the light trail behind his movements.

then came the fireworks.

lewis leaned back in his chair, watching the first one explode across the sky. his sunglasses, which he had no reason to still be wearing at night, reflected the red and blue bursts.

“these are, what… not regulated?” he asked as another one screamed into the sky.

“not really.”

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “man, if i did this in monaco, they’d fine me and take my yacht.”

still, he looked genuinely impressed. when the grand finale hit, shaking the ground with an almost comical level of intensity, he let out a low whistle.

“alright, america,” he said, tipping his hat slightly. “you do know how to put on a show.”

just as he said it, someone behind him lit an illegal firecracker that shot sideways, barely missing a parked truck. lewis instinctively dodged, years of racing reflexes kicking in.

he stared at the scorched grass for a long moment, then slowly turned back to you.

“yeah, i’m gonna stick to silverstone celebrations.”

ʚ・george russell

george arrived looking like he had just walked out of a country club. polo tucked in, hair perfectly styled, white sneakers that had clearly never touched a patch of grass. he took a slow, deliberate look around the backyard. shirtless guys were shotgunning beers, someone was wrestling with a grill that was clearly too hot, and kids were launching bottle rockets dangerously close to a tree. he exhaled through his nose and adjusted his watch like he was mentally preparing for what was about to unfold.

"alright," he muttered to himself. "let’s see how this goes."

at first, he took the polite approach. he asked well-structured questions about barbecue techniques, nodded attentively as someone explained the art of smoking ribs, and accepted a plate of food he clearly didn’t recognize with a determined sort of curiosity.

then he saw the keg stand.

he narrowed his eyes, watching as a group of guys hoisted someone upside down, beer pouring straight from the keg into his mouth while the crowd chanted encouragement.

"what exactly is happening there?" he asked, arms crossed.

you explained. he blinked. "and people enjoy this?"

before you could answer, someone clapped a hand on his back. a very large, very enthusiastic man in an american flag tank top grinned at him. "you're up next, british boy."

george let out a small, nervous chuckle, glancing at you like he was waiting for an escape. you just grinned. "it’s tradition."

for a moment, it looked like he might back out. then something shifted in his expression. that familiar look of determination. the same way he looked before attempting an impossible overtake. he squared his shoulders, handed you his drink, and nodded once.

"alright. if i’m doing this, i’m doing it properly."

what followed was the most technically flawless keg stand anyone had ever seen. a perfect lift-off, immaculate form, and balance so steady it looked choreographed. when he landed back on the ground, he wiped his mouth, adjusted his polo, and looked around.

"was that acceptable?"

the entire backyard erupted.

by the time the fireworks started, he was fully committed. the polo had been replaced with a ridiculous red, white, and blue hat. he accepted a plate of chili cheese fries without hesitation. he was even chanting “usa! usa!” along with a group of strangers like he had been waiting his whole life for this moment.

as the grand finale filled the sky, he leaned over to you, shaking his head with a laugh. "i have to admit, you lot know how to celebrate."

then someone behind him misfired a roman candle. the fireball shot sideways, missing him by inches. he spun around, hands on his hips, eyes wide.

"right," he said, voice slightly higher than usual. "and that is where i draw the line."

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos had questions.

"wait, wait, wait," he said, holding up a hand as he surveyed the absolute chaos of the backyard. "so, today, we eat like… ten hamburgers, drink cervezas (beers), and then we throw fireworks at each other?"

"pretty much," you said, handing him a beer.

he exhaled through his nose and shook his head. "los americanos están locos, eh? (you americans are crazy, huh?)"

but he cracked open the beer anyway.

carlos adapted quickly. within ten minutes, he was fully involved in the grilling process, standing next to the guy manning the barbecue with his hands on his hips, nodding like he was strategizing a pit stop. when handed a hot dog, he examined it critically.

"where is the jamón? (ham) no chorizo? (spicy spanish sausage)" he asked, looking personally offended.

"just eat it, carlos."

he sighed dramatically but took a bite. then another. his expression didn't change, but he gave a small nod.

"okay, está bien (it's okay). but if i put aceitunas (olives) on this, it would be better."

then he saw the fireworks table. his eyes narrowed. "who is in charge of this? porque esto looks very unsafe (because this…)."

before you could respond, someone lit a firecracker that immediately fell over and shot straight across the lawn. carlos flinched, ducking like it was a rogue piece of debris from an f1 crash. his head snapped toward you.

"¡ay, madre mía! (oh my god!) this is allowed?"

you shrugged. "kind of."

his hands went to his hips again. he muttered something in spanish that you were pretty sure included words not suitable for broadcast. but by the time the real fireworks show started, carlos had finally given in.

reclining in a lawn chair, beer in hand, he watched the sky light up with red, white, and blue. he exhaled and shook his head with a small smile.

"okay," he admitted. "es un poco loco… pero me gusta. (it’s a little crazy… but i like it.)"

then, just as he said it, another rogue firework went off sideways. this one nearly took out a folding chair. carlos was on his feet in seconds.

"no, no, no! that is not normal! esto es peligroso! (this is dangerous!)"

you couldn't stop laughing as he pointed accusingly at the guy holding the lighter.

"¡hermano, tú no sabes lo que haces! (brother, you don’t know what you’re doing!) give me that thing!"

and just like that, carlos sainz was suddenly in charge of the fireworks, directing the entire show like an engineer over the radio.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was trying very hard to be polite.

it was his first fourth of july, and instead of some wild backyard rager, you had brought him to your family cookout, thinking it would be a nice, relaxed introduction to the holiday. that was your first mistake.

he had been handed a plate piled with enough food to feed a small country, your uncle had already declared him an honorary american, and your grandma had called him “such a handsome young man” at least three times. charles was handling it all with his usual charm, smiling and nodding as your family quizzed him about monaco like he was an ambassador rather than a formula 1 driver.

“you ever driven one of them nascars?” your cousin asked, chewing on a rib.

charles hesitated for half a second. “uh… no, not yet.”

“bet you’d be real good at it.”

he smiled. “i hope so.”

your cousin nodded seriously, like he had just made a groundbreaking discovery, then handed charles a sparkler. the wrong end.

charles, being charles, took it without question.

the second the lighter touched the tip, he yelped and dropped it straight onto the grass, shaking out his hand like he had just suffered a catastrophic brake failure.

“oh! merde!” he blinked at his fingers, then looked at you, eyes wide with a mix of betrayal and confusion. “it bit me.”

your cousin cackled. “man, you gotta hold the other end.”

charles gave him the most unimpressed look you had ever seen. “yes, i see that now.”

despite the initial trauma, he tried again, this time holding it the correct way. he watched the sparks flicker and pop, his expression turning thoughtful.

“this is actually nice,” he said, moving it gently through the air. he traced out a shape, pausing, then tried again. “i was trying to do my number, but i think i made a… fish?”

you leaned in. it was, indeed, a fish.

"close enough."

the fireworks started just as he got comfortable, your dad setting them off from the driveway like it was a carefully planned operation. charles leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the sky as red, white, and blue bursts lit up above.

for a moment, he was quiet, just watching. then he exhaled and smiled. “this is really beautiful.”

you were about to agree when another one went off way too close to the ground. charles flinched so hard he nearly spilled his drink, eyes darting toward the launch site.

“is it supposed to do that?”

your dad waved him off. “eh, it’s fine.”

charles did not look convinced. “i don’t think that is fine.”

another firework whistled sideways into a bush. charles shot up out of his chair.

“no, no, no—this is not normal!”

your cousin just laughed. “welcome to america, man.”

ʚ・lando norris

lando had never looked more out of his depth in his entire life.

and that included the time he got stuck on a beach in monaco.

you had brought him to your university’s fourth of july party, thinking it would be a fun, casual experience. that was your second mistake. your first mistake was underestimating how unhinged your friends were.

“okay, so let me get this straight,” lando said, standing in the middle of a backyard that looked like it had already survived three different safety car restarts. “you guys drink an obscene amount of alcohol, eat way too much food, and then you—what? just set things on fire?”

“yeah, pretty much.”

he blinked. “that’s mad.”

and yet, here he was, already double-fisting a beer and a plate of nachos, blending in like he had been here all semester.

the night started off fine. he played beer pong, overthought his technique, lost anyway, and then blamed the table for being “not regulation size.” he had his first ever corn dog, called it “weird but kinda amazing,” and then proceeded to eat three more. he even wore a ridiculous red, white, and blue cowboy hat that one of your friends had aggressively placed on his head.

everything was going smoothly. then someone handed him a roman candle.

“wait, what am i supposed to do with this?” he asked, inspecting the long tube like it was an unfamiliar steering wheel.

“just hold it and point it up,” you said, already realizing this was a mistake.

your friend lit it, and lando immediately panicked.

“oh my god, it’s on fire—IT’S ON FIRE.”

“yes, lando, that’s the point.”

“I DON’T LIKE IT.”

“JUST HOLD IT STILL.”

“I CAN’T.”

the first fireball shot out, straight up into the air. the second one did not.

instead, it veered at a slightly concerning angle, skimming past the roof of the house and nearly taking out a string of decorative lights. lando let out a full-on shriek, dropped the roman candle, and sprinted five steps away like the thing had personally offended him.

the candle, now abandoned, continued shooting rogue fireballs across the yard. your friends scattered. someone dove behind a cooler. one of your more chaotic friends cheered. lando, meanwhile, had his hands on his head, looking like he had just witnessed an absolute strategy disaster.

“oh my god,” he wheezed. “i almost died.”

“you did not almost die.”

“that was the most unsafe thing i’ve ever done, and i race at 200 miles per hour for a living!”

despite the near-death experience, lando stuck around. mostly because someone handed him another beer, and he was too emotionally drained to do anything but drink it. when the actual fireworks started, he stayed a healthy distance away, sipping his drink and shaking his head every time one exploded a little too close to the ground.

by the end of the night, he had recovered enough to join in on the chanting. he even put the cowboy hat back on.

“alright,” he admitted, exhaling. “that was actually kinda fun.”

then someone suggested doing sparklers. lando immediately held up both hands.

“no. absolutely not. i’ve learned my lesson. you lot are psychos.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar piastri was trying his best.

you had invited him to your family’s fourth of july cookout, reassuring him it would be a relaxed evening with good food, nice company, and minimal chaos. that had been a lie.

now he was sitting on the porch, gripping a lemonade like it was a contract extension, watching your uncle aggressively flip burgers on the grill while your little cousins ran barefoot through the yard with sparklers. someone had already spilled an entire bowl of potato salad, your aunt was yelling at your dad about lighter fluid, and a bluetooth speaker was blasting country music at a volume that should have been illegal.

oscar took a slow sip of his drink. “so this is normal?”

you nodded. “completely normal.”

“right,” he said, nodding slightly. “that’s concerning.”

to his credit, he was doing his best to fit in. he helped carry the extra chairs outside, listened to your grandpa tell a very long-winded story about how “kids these days don’t know how to drive,” and politely answered every single person who asked if he knew daniel ricciardo.

he even attempted a game of cornhole. it did not go well.

“mate, you’ve got to actually aim,” your cousin said as oscar’s beanbag completely missed the board.

“i am aiming.”

“then why does it look like you’re throwing a penalty kick?”

oscar’s next toss went even further off course. he turned to you, deadpan. “i don’t like this game.”

the real trouble started when your little cousin, clearly taking advantage of his foreign guest status, decided to hand oscar a firework. not a sparkler. not a small fountain. a full-blown roman candle.

oscar held it with both hands, staring at it like it was an unexploded bomb. “am i being set up?”

“just light it and hold it up,” your cousin said.

oscar frowned. “that sounds fake, but okay.”

he did as he was told, but the second the first fireball shot out, he visibly tensed, gripping the firework like he was on the final lap in monaco. another fireball launched, and he let out a quiet but very real “oh no.”

“it’s fine,” you reassured him.

“it doesn’t feel fine,” he said, carefully adjusting his stance like he was bracing for impact. “how long does this last?”

“maybe ten more shots.”

oscar sighed. “great. love that for me.”

when the roman candle finally fizzled out, he let out the slowest exhale of his life and handed it back like he had just completed a dangerous mission.

“alright,” he said. “i have now contributed to the chaos. that should fulfill my american initiation, yes?”

the night ended with fireworks, which oscar watched from what he clearly deemed the safest possible location—standing just inside the house, one foot over the threshold in case he needed to make a quick exit.

when someone asked if he had fun, he paused for a moment, considering his answer.

“well,” he said, taking another sip of lemonade. “i still have all my fingers. so i’d call that a success.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[dwaekkicidal]

cw» fem!reader, kitty hybrid reader x puppy hybrid!channie, mentions of p in v, manhandling, there’s a few more but nothing too crazy/out of the blue

cw» not really proofread, but this is for that one anon who asked for kitty reader a few months ago <3 sorry it took so long

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

pup!channie who was very against his owner adopting another hybrid, let a lone a cat of all species. but it's not like he has much of a say in it- it's supposed to be his new "friend" so he's not alone while his owner is at work all day!

pup!channie who scares you shitless before you two even meet. your new owner warned you and told you all kinds of scary things about the dog you'll be living with from now on

but queue faces of surprise, from all 3 of you, when chan's face burns red and his tail starts wagging aggressively the second he sees you

pup!channie who gets addicted to your scent from day 1. he just loooves the way you smell. that and your endearingly cute demeanor only leads to him quickly growing a little crush on you~

pup!channie who surprises you and your owner when he opens his space to you right off the bat- with little to no aggressiveness coming from the boy.

pup!channie who welcomes you with open arms, even going far enough to allow you to lay (and sleep with him) in his bed. your owner was scared at first but quickly grew to trust chan enough that he didn't bother getting you your own bed- simply allowing you to sleep with chan

pup!channie who stares daggers into every person, human or hybrid, who even glances your way. your pretty head is never worried about anything enough to notice the stares, but chan has eyes of a hawk when it comes to you.

pup!channie who scents you unbeknownst to you. sneakily scenting you and your clothes to the point where it's just a natural smell to you- you don't question where it comes from anymore now that you're conditioned to live in the smell- but the smell follows you everywhere enough to scare other hybrids away

pup!channie who is SO easily jealous and refuses to let anybody near you. your owner has to muzzle HIM when you go to the doctor because the mere thought of strangers being so close to you, maybe even touching you makes him seethe.

^ and this is even worse when your owner brings their friends around. the onslaught of questions like "ohh how did you get that mutt to tolerate your new, pretty kitty" was already enough to piss him off, but when the friends try to touch you, he sees red. he actually loses all sense of rationality and will bite the person if they don't back away within his first growl.

and all of this is innocent at first! until its not.

it loses all innocence when mating season comes around, and you both discover your owner wasn't responsible enough to account for the clash of hormones. they thought about the possibility of you getting pregnant and put you on birth control "just in case", but they didn't take into account that the hormones would still be there in full force.

and that leads to what happened at the beginning of the week. your owner is out on a business trip that just so happens to be 2 weeks long, and channie has begun to feel the first signs of his heat. but it wasn't until he came home from a short grocery outing, and smelt your scent for the first time in hours, that he realized his heat was hitting him.

it wasn't until he was standing the doorway of your shared room, groceries long forgotten on the kitchen floor, that he felt the heat start coursing through his veins.

it wasn't until he had your face shoved into the sheet, balls deep in your cunt, that the emotions started to hit him.

"C-Channie! Slow down, p-please-" He shushes you and thrusts harder, his balls slapping against your clit each time he bottoms out. "Pretty kitty- MY pretty kitty."

"Chan~" Your whines only made him growl and push into you harder. He was using both hands to hold you down, one in your hair and the other on your shoulder, but he trailed the lower of the two down to your ass after some time.

His hand comes down on your ass suddenly, making you yelp out of surprise. The yelp turns into a moan when his hand wraps around the base of your tail and tugs.

"A-Ah!?" He doesn't release it. Instead, he tightens his hold on your tail and continues to lightly tug on it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. Your hand that's not tangled in the sheets goes behind to push his hand away and Chan growls again, releasing your hair to dig his hands into your wrist and hold it above your head in order to get you to stop resisting him.

"You're gonna take it, right baby? Gonna let me fuck you full of my pups?" You attempt to push yourself up with your free hand, only to fall back down when his canines dig into the side of your neck. "Answer my fucking question before I lose my patience, kitty."

"Yes! I'll take it all. Anything for you, Channie…” You could feel the smirk break out against your neck, and it seems like your promise was enough to scratch an itch in his stupid dog brain.

now, days into his heat, you feel your own heat starting up- no doubt thanks to the restless hound that was adamant about rearranging your insides and trying to get you pregnant.

the two of you had barely left the room by the mid point of the next week. your owner had to call in a friend to bring you guys food every night- at first they weren't really aware of what was going on thanks to the vague texts chan sent (in the middle of you riding him, might i add), but boy could his friend smell the sex from the front door.

and channie had absolutely no plan to stop fucking you, even as your owner's friend poked their head in to check on you two for your owner. he simply gave them the nastiest side eye and tightened his grip around your neck, seemingly fucking into you even harder as he held eye contact and growled at the person to leave.

and then once they did leave, he continued fucking you as if the world was ending and the two of your would never see each other again.

“Attagirl, baby. Take this knot and Channie’ll breed your pains away.”

Taglist (red=can’t be tagged):

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @honeyybbuubblleess

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess @kittycatkrissa

@nicora04 @chuuyaobsessed @moonlightndaydreams @velvetmoonlght

@aeri-skzver

[starkeysbunny]

the kook's girl [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x kook reader

summary - being the only girl in the kook friend group, you were always taken care of. especially since you and rafe started dating four months ago. safe to say, everyone on the island knew not to mess with you if they valued their life at all. so, when the tourons came to town in the summer, the kook boys always got their bit of fun.

warnings - swearing, fighting, just our fav protective!rafe

"Sarah, it's our song!" She slurred, grabbing onto her best friend's hand, pulling her onto the dance floor.

Rafe and Sarah are never on good terms, but Rafe knows no matter how much he hates his sister, she'll always be his girl's best friend. He's grateful for it sometimes, as annoying as it can be, it's just one more person who cares about her and is always looking out for her when Rafe can't be.

But tonight, as both kook girls are drunk off their asses, Rafe keeps a close eye. He spots John B doing the same from across the club as he sits next to Kiara, still keeping a close eye on his girl, Sarah.

Rafe sits in a booth at the club, nursing a glass of whiskey in his palm. Topper and Kelce sit next to him, talking about things he could not care less about at the moment. For example, the girls on the dance floor they want to take home, golf, etc.

No, Rafe's attention is solely on the girl who lights up the dance floor in her sparkly pink dress which Rafe bought for her just three days prior. Her gold necklace with the letter 'R' hanging from her neck shines brightly as the club lights hit it. Her baby pink kitten heels travel her elegantly across the floor as her arm remains tightly latched onto Sarah's as they dance in tune.

He barely even notices the slight smile etched onto his lips in affection as he takes a slow sip from his glass.

"Yo!"

Rafe's attention is abruptly moved from his girl to his dumbass friends as Topper pulls on his white half-way unbuttoned shirt.

"What?" Rafe spits, rolling his eyes at their antics.

"Tourons, 12 o'clock." Topper warns.

"What the fuck? I think they're looking at Y/n and Sarah, man." Kelce points out, suddenly sitting up straighter as they both snap out of their previous conversations to keep an eye on the situation.

This catches his attention as he clocks the three sun burnt tourists waltzing in wearing khaki shorts, polos, and flip flops. Idiots. He notices one of them point in Y/n's direction as the other's snicker, laughing as they spoke to each other.

Rafe’s eyes dart back to Y/n, oblivious as ever, in her own little world.

"I've almost been waiting to pick a fight," He confesses. "Just wait till they get too close."

The three morons make their way in the direction of Y/n. One particular guy, wearing a blue tropical button up, comes up behind Y/n, tapping her shoulder. Rafe is just close enough to overhear the conversation.

“Hey, I’m Ethan,” he smirks, hungry eyes looking her up and down.

She turns around, her smile slightly fading at his stare. “Um, hi.” She spins back around, grabbing onto Sarah.

“You two are pretty little things, out here by yourselves.” He chuckles, his hand moving to her shoulder.

“You gonna go out there man?” Topper asks, getting anxious for the girls.

“No, just wait. I want a real excuse to kill em’.” Rafe responds, his fists clenching.

Ethan’s grimy hands near Y/n’s neck, his index finger latching onto her gold ‘R’ necklace. “What’s your name, hm? R…?”

“You’re gonna regret that,” Y/n whispers, her eyes meeting Rafe.

Rafe stands, marching over to Ethan. Rafe’s fist latches onto the back of his collar, pulling him back as Y/n’s necklace slips from his grasp. Rafe turns him around, knocking a punch to his jaw, blood spurting from his lips onto Rafe’s face.

Rafe lets go aggressively, the boy falling to the ground forcefully. Rafe smirks, his ringed hand coming up to wipe Ethan’s blood from his jaw. “The ‘R’ stands for Rafe. Her boyfriend.” He states before knocking one more punch to the boy’s cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” He pathetically whimpers, begging for mercy.

“She clearly had zero fucking interest in you, yet you continued,” He chuckles. Rafe leans down, pulling Ethan’s neck up by his collar. “You better hope your flight out of here is tomorrow morning. If not, watch your back man.”

Topper and Kelce come into view, peering at the man below Rafe, only inciting more fear into the poor tourist. Ethan’s two friends quickly pull him up, scattering out of the club as fast as they can.

Rafe turns to Y/n, his demeanor immediately turning soft, a side of himself only she gets to see. “You okay, baby?” He asks, his eyes scanning over her face for any discomfort.

“I’m okay, just some asshole tourist.” She rolls her eyes, manicured fingers grasping onto her necklace.

His eyes flick down to her hand, she only fidgets with her necklace when she’s uncomfortable or nervous. He feels more rage and anger boil up inside him thinking about how that guy ruined her night of fun with Sarah.

“Wanna go home, baby?” Rafe whispers softly, fingers pushing her hair behind her ears.

She bites her lip in debate, turning toward her friend Sarah. Sarah nods her head, “It’s okay, I’m gonna have John B take me back to his place too, it’s getting late anyway.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s go home. I’ll text you Sarah, we can hang out tomorrow, yeah?” Y/n feels guilty, her and Sarah haven’t gotten to spend as much time together ever since she started dating John B and hanging out with his friends more.

Y/n had nothing against the pogues, she thought the rivalry was stupid and childish. She actually found them quite nice, but she spends every minute with her best friends, Rafe, Topper, and Kelce.

Rafe slings his arm around her shoulder after giving his goodbyes to Topper and Kelce, walking you to his truck. He opens the door for you without a word, buckling you in and shutting the door.

When he gets in on his side, starting the truck, he looks over at his girl at her sad eyes. “What’s wrong, angel?”

She sniffles, “I just miss Sarah. Wanted to hang out with her tonight but those guys ruined it.”

Rafe’s hand slips around her thigh, patting it lovingly. “I know, hon. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure Sarah gets her ass off the cut tomorrow to hang out with you, okay?”

She smiles, her hand finding comfort atop Rafe’s. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

[bisexualceo]

Cereal Roulette

Too Good To Be True series

Summary: For the first time in almost three months of living in the Watchtower, it's Bob and Y/N's turn to do the grocery shopping together.

Warnings: Use of Y/N, Fem!reader, fluff, mentions of Y/N and Bob traumatic pasts. Not edited.

Word count: 2k

Series AO3 General Masterlist

The grocery schedule was Bucky’s idea—down to the font, the formatting, and the assigned teams. That week, the responsibility of grocery shopping for the team fell to Bob and Y/N. For the first time in almost three months of living together in the tower.

Bob had just entered the kitchen when he noticed his name in red on the whiteboard in the Watchtower’s kitchen. He blinked twice when he saw his name next to Y/N.

Y/N appeared behind him, and chuckled when she saw what he was looking at with such concentration "Guess we’re the chosen ones."

Bob gave a half-smile, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Although he frowned when he noticed that Y/N, grumpy-mornings-Y/N, was in a strangely good mood.

She was even making jokes, what was going on with the universe?

"I-I guess, yeah. You wanna take an uber or... You feel like walking?"

She looked out the window. Blue skies. Crisp breeze.

"Let’s walk," she said. "I need to breathe something other than recycled tower air."

So they left just after breakfast —or in Y/N case, a sluggish glass of juice telekinetically poured and a toast with cheese while she buried her face into the table— armed with a list Yelena had aggressively written in the kitchen before they left.

Some might’ve seen it as a chore, another line on the endless to-do list for the team, but Bob and Y/N? They welcomed the excuse to get out of the Tower. The never-ending noise, bickering and chaotic training routines could grate on even the most patient soul. But neither Bob nor Y/N would ever claim to be the most patient type.

They walked down the busy sidewalk side by side. Y/N wore her usual light brown hoodie with the sleeves too long and hands hidden inside the front pocket. Bob, tall and relaxed, wore a dark jacket and jeans. The crisp air held the promise of autumn, a chill that made her tug the hoodie’s hood over her head.

The grocery store was six blocks away. Fifteen minutes if you strolled, ten if you walked with purpose. They strolled.

The city moved around them with typical weekend buzz. People with dogs, couples holding hands, someone playing acoustic guitar under the shade of a tree.

"You realize this is the first time we’ve done anything like this," Y/N said, glancing at him sideways.

"Like grocery shopping?"

"Like existing outside of the post-trauma tower atmosphere. Y'know, the two of us together."

Bob laughed—an honest, surprised laugh that warmed the air between them. "Yeah, I guess this does feel almost, well, normal."

Then they passed a bakery. She slowed down to peer inside the window. A woman was in charge of serving customers, while an older man came out through double doors with a tray full of cookies.

"I used to want to work in one of these," she said casually.

"What? Really?"

"When I was a kid. Before all the—" she waved a vague hand in the air. "My mom worked in a bakery and the owner had no problem with me staying there while she worked. I have vague memories of those days, but I do know I had a good time."

"What would you have liked to bake?" Bob asked, glancing over at her with a lopsided grin. "If-If you had been, y'know, a baker."

"I think everything. But mostly cinnamon rolls."

Bob looked at her, really looked. "You’ve got bakery energy. Like the sarcastic, secretly warm baker in a rom-com who insults customers but gives extra frosting."

"You just described my dream." Y/N smirked. "What about you? What did you want to be?"

Bob hesitated. "When I was a kid?"

She nodded.

"I don't know... Maybe a pilot. Maybe an astronaut. I liked skies. The idea of flying, escaping gravity. I used to draw stars on my notebook covers."

"That's actually pretty cute. Little Bob wanted to conquer the sky?"

He looked at her again, eyes soft, a chuckle escaping from his lips. "What about you, baker?"

She nudged him with her elbow. "Shut up."

They both chuckle, and the weight that usually hangs in their shoulders —whether it was the tower’s intensity, Bob’s unease with his powers, or Y/N’s internal battles— lifted just a little.

"Tell me again why we agreed to do this?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance there. "Because Walker improvised dinner last night and my digestive system is still in recovery. So we need to get food."

"Fair point," Bob replied with a short laugh. "Although... Alexei made the salad. And it was basically just pickles and raw garlic. I still can’t feel the left side of my tongue."

"Don’t talk to me about that. I think all my offspring will continue to savor that garlic." Y/N’s nose crinkled as she grimaced. "Who puts ten cloves of garlic in anything?"

"Alexei. Apparently." Bob replied.

The supermarket came into view a few minutes later. It was one of those upscale places where things were overpriced, the produce looked like it came out of a magazine, suspiciously perfect. Under fluorescent lights and the hum of freezers, Bob grabbed a cart, steering it like a man on a mission. Y/N walked beside him, pulling the list from her pocket.

"All right," she muttered some of the things on the long list. "We need cheese... eggs... cereal, three kinds of hot sauce?... oh, of course, Yelena wants food for her guinea pig."

"Wait, why that much hot sauce?"

"Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to."

"Fair."

They wandered through aisles, pointing out ridiculous brand names, complaining about the lack of decent granola, and arguing gently about whether almond milk or oat milk was superior.

"Almond milk is just nut water," Y/N said.

"And oat milk isn’t?"

"Oats have texture."

"So you’re team oat. Noted."

Y/N smiled. A rare, genuine one.

They moved aisle by aisle, sometimes bickering over what brand of pasta Bucky would approve of, other times wandering into soft silence. At one point, they passed the frozen section. Y/N stopped short.

"You ever had those Oreo cheesecake bites?"

Bob looked. "Once. Yeah."

"I love cheesecake. But since this is what there is." Bob just nodded, concentrated in her words while watching her grabbing a box and threw it into the cart. "And it's Oreo, so we’re getting them. Non-negotiable."

"This isn’t on the list," he teased.

"I don't care. We're gonna be selfish and eat them on the way home so we don't have to share." She shrugged casually. "I do it all the time."

They both continued walking, he opened his mouth slightly, stopping the words from his mouth and hesitating a little, fingers brushing the edge of the cart.

"Can I ask you something?"

Y/N tilted her head. "Nope."

"C'mon, it's nothing bad. Just... Uhm, well, it's personal."

She gave a small shrug. "Shoot."

"Why do you always wear long sleeves? Even when it’s warm. I mean, not judging. Just curious."

She was quiet for a moment, then tugged at one of the hoodie’s cuffs like she was thinking about it.

"On the one hand, I like the warmth. NEST used to kept the kids' rooms at exactly 22°C/72°F, I think it was something about being the “neurologically optimal” temperature, but that, added the white walls and fluorescent lights, made the place seem colder than it was. So, yeah... I prefer the warmth." she said simply. She weighed the next words, thinking about how to express it. "On the other hand there are the... Uhm... Marks."

Bob’s expression didn’t shift into pity, and Y/N was grateful for that. He just nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"From NEST?"

She nodded. "And from after. Mostly NEST. I don’t like seeing them. Or letting anyone else see them."

"Do they still hurt?"

She considered that. "Only emotionally."

Bob didn’t push further, he knew what it was like to have scars you wanted to erase. Instead, he gently steered the cart into the next aisle. It was a quiet gesture of respect, and Y/N felt something tight in her chest loosen.

"What about you?" she asked. "I noticed your hands are always shaking. Are you cold or is it because...?.”

He chuckled without humor. "You notice, huh?"

She gave a little nod.

"It’s just- It's normal, I think. B-because of the abstinence..." His voice was nervous, it was hard for him to talk about his past with addictions.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"It’s hard. I used to chase the feeling of not feeling anything like... Like it was the only thing keeping me from dissolving. It helped me forget, to cope with things."

"And now you have to keep going without it."

"Exactly."

Y/N nodded, eyes on the shelves.

"I get that. Not the substance thing, exactly. But the keep going part." Y/N looked at him. Her clear eyes with truth. "You’re doing okay, Bob. More than okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They continued walking. The cart was halfway full now, and the mundane rhythm of shopping felt oddly therapeutic. Bob tossed a bag of pretzels into the cart, then looked down at it.

"You know, I kind of like this."

"Shopping?"

"Shopping with you. It’s calm."

Y/N smirked. "Everything is calm if you compare it to the tower."

"Point taken. But this is good. I- I mean, you... You don't treat me like I'm made of glass, like the rest. "

"That’s because you’re not."

Bob stopped walking for a second.

Y/N turned to look at him.

"You really believe that?"

"Why would I lie to you?"

He smiled again. That soft, grateful one that always made her chest feel weird.

"Thanks, Y/N."

They resumed their walk through the store, and when they reached the cereal aisle, Y/N stared at the endless shelves.

"Okay, cereal roulette."

"Cereal what?"

"You close your eyes, spin around once, and grab a box."

Bob raised an eyebrow. "That a thing?"

"Nope. That’s a 'We never had shop together before so I made up a dumb game to make it fun' thing."

Without another word, Bob turned in a slow circle with his eyes closed and grabbed a box. With his eyes still closed, he extended the box to where Y/N was, or at least where he thought Y/N was.

"You got bran flakes."

"Is that bad?"

"It’s a war crime. Try again."

He laughed and did it again. This time he ended up with something chocolatey and borderline dessert.

"Now we are talking." Y/N exclaimed as she grabbed the cereal box and put it in the cart. "Although we need a box of wheaties for Alexei."

By the time they reached the checkout, the cart was filled with an eclectic mix of healthy staples and Bob-and-Y/N impulse buys. They checked out and walked out carrying paper bags, letting the late afternoon sun hit their faces.

"I liked this," Y/N said after a while.

"Me too."

They kept walking. Somewhere in between discussing the pros and cons of pineapple on pizza and eating the entire bag of cheesecake bites, the conversation dipped again into something real.

"Do you ever feel like you don’t deserve the good stuff?" Bob asked suddenly, voice low.

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

"Yeah," she said finally. "All the time."

Bob nodded.

"But I think we’re wrong," she added.

"About what?"

"About not deserving it. I think that feeling comes from the parts of us that are still hurt. Not the parts that survived, the parts that deserve this opportunity."

Bob looked at her again. This time with something like quiet awe. He exhaled and leaned back slightly on his hands.

"I'm glad we did this. We don’t talk much... Y'know, outside our little arrangement. I guess I didn’t know if you wanted to talk to me."

"It's not that I don't want to. I'm just not great at casual conversation."

"No shit," he chuckled.

She smiled faintly.

"But I don’t mind talking to you," she said. "Feels natural."

They walked in silence a while longer. When they get to the tower, Y/N and Bob shared a look.

"Back to reality," Bob said.

"Sadly."

"Wanna make it our thing?" Bob asked eventually. His feet moving lightly and almost imperceptibly on the floor as a sign of nervousness. "Shopping. Together. We can do it whenever it's either of our turn to go."

Y/N thought about it a little, then with a little mocking tone spoke. "Only if we play cereal roulette again."

"Deal." Bob exclaimed, trying and failing to hide the relief in his voice, as they step inside of the tower.

And just like that, a quiet tradition was born.

One that belonged only to them.

[burts-baked-bees]

Okay?

OPLA Sanji x Fem!Reader

{masterlist for OPLA Sanji ongoing story}

Tags: Slight angst to fluff, slight pining, Sanji and reader are close friends and have truama bonded, Sanji has no clue he's in love with reader the poor sap

CW: Launguage, mentions of abuse, slight WCI spoliers, mentions of drinking

“I swear I’m one shift away from throwing myself in the godforsaken ocean.” Sanji huffed angrily as he threw himself down in a nearby booth. The Baratie had cleared out for the night leaving the cooks to clean the line and the waiters to clean the dining room, but halfway through the dreaded cleanup Sanji had both metaphorically and physically thrown in the towel. The dish cloth he had been holding went flying across the room as he put his feet up on the booth he was in and groaned indignantly.

“That old shitbag won’t so much as let me breathe on the line! I’m a cook! Not a fucking waiter!” He yelled, turning his head back towards the kitchen, as if Zeff could hear his complaints.

“You think maybe it has something to do with the fact that you call him an ‘old shitbag’?” A voice came from the other side of his booth. A small smile curled his lips as he sat up some and peeked over the rounded edge of the red leather seat.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt your nap time madame?” Sanji laughed as he took in the sight of Y/n laying on her back with her eyes closed in the opposite booth. “So sorry for the inconvenience, but aren’t you meant to be cleaning tables?” He teased as Y/n cracked an eye open and glared at him.

“Aren’t you?” She asked with a sly grin, earning an eye roll and angry huff from the blonde.

“Seems the only thing I’m meant to do is slowly die from boredom in this trash heap of a restaurant.” Sanji sighed as he fell back into his seat, pulling out his lighter and messing with the lid. Y/n laughed softly before sitting up and resting her arms on the dividing seat. She placed her head atop her arms and looked at him with a mock pout.

“Awww is the best chef in the East Blue all bummed that his dad doesn't like his cooking? Again?”

Sanji snapped his lighter closed and raised a finger at Y/n, pointing aggressively at her with a snarl.

“I am the greatest chef in the East Blue. Even if that geezer can’t see it.” He stated, earning a chuckle from Y/n as she sat up and raised her hands in surrender.

“Easy now, no need to shout at a lady.” She cooed as Sanji chuckled and gave her an angry smile, hanging his head.

“How dare you throw my own principles back in my face.” He chuckled as he began fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger. Y/n sighed and rested her chin on her folded arms again, smiling softly at the mop of blonde hair in front of her. She reached over the divider and brushed some of his hair from his face, earning a soft hum from Sanji as he closed his eyes.

“I think we both know he’s only doing and saying these things because he wants the best for you. Though I’ll be the first to admit, his way of going about it is absolute shit.” She laughed as she watched his lips curl into a smile. He looked up at her, her fingers brushing against his cheek as he moved.

“Yeah, I know…” He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. She pulled her hand back and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “But you're a stowaway as much as me.” Sanji joked, “And yet I’m the one being treated like a sniveling child every fucking time I step foot in that kitchen.” He huffed as he looked over at her through his bangs. She chuckled as she hung her arms over the back of his booth and cocked her head to the side.

“My dumbass thought I could be a pirate and got stuck here paying off a debt cuz’ my ship damaged the hull of this ‘trash heap of a restaurant’.” She fired back, using his own words. He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it again as he shook his head.

“Yeah that was pretty dumb.” Sanji joked as he pulled his jacket off and tossed it to the seat beside him. Y/n gawked at him before laughing and reaching forward to hit him softly on the shoulder. He leaned away from her and shouted

“Oi! Don’t damage the goods!”

She looked at him with mocking wide eyes and barked a laugh,

“Both Patty and I would have to disagree with you on that one, lover boy.” She snarked as Sanji rolled his eyes. A calm silence filled the space as Y/n sat up on her knees and looked at Sanji. She could see something was going on inside his head, and she knew him well enough to infer that he wasn’t going to say a damn thing. She studied the way his brow furrowed and noted how his eyes seemed more gray then blue in moments like these.

There was a profound sadness in him that she had only caught glimpses of in her three years aboard this ship. A profound sadness that he had more or less shared with her one drunken night in the bar when they should have been sleeping. A profound sadness that she wished every single day she could lift from him. The two sat in silence as the ship rocked softly under them; Y/n felt compelled to speak, to do anything that might help ease his overactive mind.

“Still, knowing what I know, having Zeff treating you like this can’t be good for the ole’ psyche…”

Sanji tensed up slightly at her words and Y/n mentally kicked herself for making that insinuation. She wanted to help him, but after the words left her mouth she felt a heavy guilt fill her bones. She watched as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath before smiling ever so slightly.

“Trust me, love. I may complain like this from time to time-”

“Almost ninety-five percent of the time."

“Ooookay. Almost ninety-five percent of the time, but nothing is worse than… what I came from.” He gave her a somber smile and pulled out his lighter again, flipping the lid open and closed in an almost rhythmic pattern. She returned his sad smile and pushed her baby hairs from her forehead.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” She spoke softly as she looked out at the empty dining room; the tables were cast in an eerie candle light and the china adorning the tables glimmered like stars. Sanji looked at her, as her attention was placed elsewhere, and smiled fondly. He felt a warmth rise in his chest as he took in the curve of her profile. The slope of her nose, the length of her eyelashes, the round of her cheeks. The candle light of the empty room cast dancing shadows on her face that made her look otherworldly; he felt his smile, and eyes soften as he looked at her.

“Y/n I wouldn’t have told you about my shitty past if I didn’t trust you to check in on me like this every now and again.” Sanji spoke softly as Y/n turned her gaze back to him. She was almost stunned to see the expression on his face. The look in his eyes was, most of the time, reserved for the elegant ladies that entered the restaurant day in and day out. And yet here he was looking at her like that. She brushed the fond gaze off and swayed her head back and forth while giving him an apologetic look.

“I know, but it’s still not my place to dredge up old memories of abuse when I don’t even know the full story.” She responded, playing with the ends of her uniform shirt.

Sanji smiled at her and leaned forward in his seat, one hand braced himself on the seat top while the other reached forward and pulled her towards him. Y/n closed her eyes as she felt his lips press against her forehead.

“I appreciate you checking on me. It shows that you care.” He said softly, his words muffled seeing that his lips were still connected with her forehead. She smiled softly as he placed a loud exaggerated kiss to the skin there before pulling away and holding her face in his hand. “Okay?” He asked with a huge smile. She laughed at his theatrics and moved to stand up, leaving Sanji sitting alone in his booth as he looked up at her standing form.

“Whatever you say-” She began as she reached out a hand to help him up. He took it with a laugh and allowed Y/n to pull him to his feet. “-My favorite Baratie waiter.” She finished as she dropped his hand and started walking away from him, stifling her laughter. Sanji stood there with his jaw dropped as she walked away from him, his shock soon turning into a smile as he watched her shoulders shake from holding in her laughter. He let a chuckle slip out as he pushed up his sleeves and made a beeline for her.

“How DARE!” He yelled as he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground slightly laughing as she yelped and then dissolved into laughter when she broke free. She began running to a nearby table to put distance between herself and him as she pointed at him,

“Not fair!” She yelled, watching as Sanji pointed back at her.

“Don’t you dare get me started on ‘fair’!” He responded as he laughed.

____

Zeff stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching as Sanji ran around tables with that wannabe pirate waitress. He observed in silence as the pair laughed and threw dish towels at each other instead of cleaning tables.

The small boy he once knew, terrified of making connections with those around him due to some dark past he kept to himself, was smling and laughing as he chased around what could only be discribed as a friend.

A small smile curled his weathered lips as he shook his head and walked away, the sounds of youth fading into nothing.

“Not bad, little eggplant… Not bad…”

[bbokicidal]

Smile For Me .:. Hwang Hyunjin .:. 10/10/2024

Genre : Smut Pairing : Ghostface!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader Warnings : Height difference, mention of Hyunjin being physically bigger, stronger, taller, etc., face fucking (hard), rough sex, mirror sex, tiny surprise at the end !!

Notes : Again, a bit of a shorter post but I did my best here. I really had no motivation to write this bc of my brain feeling fried but I wanted to get it out for you guys. Ty for staying tuned. <3

Kinktober Day 4 of 10 : Size Difference w/ Hyunjin

Word Count : 3.3K

Next Post : 10/16/24

"What's a sweet thing like you doing at a party alone?"

The voice is enough to startle you into turning fully around, the drink in your hand sloshing aggressively in your cup and spilling over white knuckles. A gasp escapes your lips to show just how surprised you are by the man suddenly talking behind you. The voice changer definitely flipped a panic switch in your body.

"Well?" He questions.

The man is - well...

He's tall. Very tall, in fact, compared to you. Six foot at least if you had to guess. With broad shoulders and arms hanging down by his sides as he stands before you. The only reason you can even tell he's looking at you is because of the way his head tilts when you still fumble to answer; Though he doesn't seem to understand just yet that it's from both fear and arousal jolting through your limbs at the sight of a Ghostface costume looming over you.

The man's head cocks once more, a gentle nudge in an attempt to get an answer. Subtle prying.

You fumble, spit coating your lower lip as it escapes your teeth. "Just - came to drink."

Stupid answer to a genuine (?) question. Now this man - potentially.. dangerous - knew that you actually were alone and drinking by yourself.

Then again, even if he was potentially dangerous; He was undeniably sexy.

Or maybe that was your inner mask kink screaming.

The man leans in further to close the distance between your bodies, taking one step forward in a heavy combat boot that nearly stepped on the pink of your heel. Your eyes stay on the mask glaring down at you and as he leans in, you get the slightest glimpse of dark eyes hidden beneath the black mesh.

A soft tug pulls on your skirt, and when you look down you realize it's his hand pinching the fabric.

"You got a boyfriend hangin' around here, doll?"

You swallow, every word you thought to say somehow lumping in your throat. What about him was making it so hard to speak?

"I..."

His head tips upwards when someone calls for him, but with your ears ringing and head spinning from the closeness of his warmth - and his heavy cologne weighing down on his costume - you'd never even heard the name called that had summoned him.

He lets out a breath that you swear you can almost feel even if it's trapped behind the mask. Straightening up, looming over you once more, he takes his leave in slow and planned steps around your frame. His hand drags over the soft skin of your thigh as he passes, the leather glove making goosebumps raise in pink.

"Coming..~"

.

The alcohol had taken its toll whether you liked it or not - and it was time to break the seal. Unless you wanted to piss all over the couch.

The drunken contemplation makes you chuckle to yourself, eyes rolling back as your lips split in a silly grin, while your hand escapes the frosted - and spiked - root beer float sitting on the end table. With a soft excuse of your body, you slip off of the couch cushion that had held your weight to make way for the restroom just down the hallway.

It's a little wobble here and there, but you manage to make it to the bathroom door with the sturdy support of the pretty blue walls adorning the campus home. And just as you reach for the doorknob, you realize it's - very close to you. The door is shut, locked actually, and you blink a few times in realization that someone was already in there.

The knob twists once, then jerks away from your hold. You step forward and lull to look up at the poor person you'd disturbed - only to be met with the sight of the familiar slasher from earlier - buttoning the black jeans that he adorns underneath the costume he wears. And you just can't help but stare at the way his long fingers prod at the fabric of the gloves, pushing the button through the hole in the denim and seeing the way the visible bulge beneath the fabric seems to grow more defined.

He sighs out behind the mask, head tipping closer to his shoulder as if analyzing you and just why you're there - yet again in front of him. You can't see it - but his brow cocks behind his mask.

"Pervert."

And you jolt, nearly jumping out of your skin once again at the voice changer. You shudder out a breath, looking up finally at the mask once more. There's a person underneath there, you have to remember. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." His voice lulls into a soft growl at the end, coming closer to where you stand in the hallway, frozen. You think he'll close the distance once more - but he stops short in the doorway. And you think you're safe.

Until he's lifting an arm to rest against the frame, making himself look even taller than previously. His free hand tucks down into his pocket, pushing up his costume so you can clearly see where it goes.

"But did you need something?"

Your breath hitches in your throat once more, and as you breathe out you end up whining. "I really need to pee."

The man behind the mask pauses. Visibly halts. Before a rumbling chuckle escapes his chest, distorted and cracking with the voice changer. "Alright, can't deny you that right." He steps aside from the frame and gestures into the bathroom. "To your throne, my lady."

It was at that moment that you realized - even if he was a hot masked man at a Halloween party - he was definitely a loser in a hot body.

.

One hour later is when you finally spot it.

You see him; out of the corner of your eye, lurking by the kitchen island and facing your direction as to see if you'll catch him looking directly at you. He's making it blatantly obvious that he's staring and that's what he's trying to do - wanting to gauge your reaction, see if you'll notice and catch on.

And when you do, you stare back for a moment as your friend babbles to a man beside her about some group drama happening the week prior.

He doesn't move.

Your head slowly tips to the left, his mirroring to the right. And you're very sure then that he's keeping his eyes on you and waiting for you to make a move.

The buzz in your chest could be from the alcohol - or the bubbling arousal that had already begun to seep towards your core.

Turning from your spot and gently slipping past your friend, you make your way back towards the hallway you had previously met him in. Pausing at the entrance, you turn to look over your shoulder and see him slipping away from his own friends to trail after your retreating form.

Like he'd let you get away that easily.

.

Your body is so compliant with him - bending to his every will and leaning into his touch even if it's not skin to skin. Your throat burns from where he had his hand wrapped around it, fingers tight enough to make you worry about the lack of air slipping down your trachea and into your lungs. But nothing - can draw your attention away from the heat pooling between your thighs - and the way his free hand had already slipped down to caress the softness of your center. It's as if he's attempting to ease the ache, even if he's only making it worse.

Your hands had just found home on his sides when he had begun to push down on your throat; But not in a way that restricted breathing. He was guiding you down towards the ground and your body, ever wanting, once again complied.

Sinking to your knees and letting your hands drag from his sides to his hips, the man above you looks - far larger than he ever had that evening. Looming? No. Towering over you now. With thick, heavy thighs right in your face and a bulge pressing against the denim of his jeans, he bunches the length of the costume in one hand and tucks it into the sides of the denim waistband so it's out of the way. Easy access, he's sure, watching as you sit so patiently in front of his pulsing cock.

He sighs out once more and lowers his head in a sharp nod, gesturing for you to do the work. You seem happy enough to do so - fingers fumbling with the button you'd stared at earlier in the night and tugging at the fly of his jeans. It rips downwards and he has to sway forward at the way you so eagerly pull the denim down his thighs, revealing tight briefs that outline his cock so perfectly.

And you can tell even without looking right at it that he's big.

He's almost surprised at the way you tug on his waistband, yanking the black fabric down as far as you can without completely stripping him. Hovering just above his knees, the fabric pulls at the simple mass of the muscle it wraps around.

The sight of his cock is godly.

Perfectly straight, pink at the tip with a slit leaking pre that just begs to be touched by your tongue. Thick and so heavy that it weighs down, refusing to touch the fabric covering his lower torso.

"What are you waiting for, slut?"

The moment he spots your tongue sliding out along your bottom lip - the softest hint of parted lips - he's pushing his cock into your mouth and down your throat.

The back of your head bumps the wall as spit drips from your pretty, plump lips - pooled on the back of your tongue just from the earlier sight of his cock waiting to be smothered by your walls; Your throat. You huff out and a soft whine of pain rings from your vocal cords, but he can't truly be bothered too much to care.

The feeling of his cock weighing heavy on your tongue is enough to drown out any pain you'd felt from the simple bump and grind of his hips pressing your head into the wall behind you. He rolls forward, slow, the tip of his pretty length rubbing against the back of your throat in an effort to make you gag. And when you do, he chuckles - the sound still distorted and crackling with use.

And though he'd just filled your throat without care for the ache that the stretch created against your cheeks - He did care about your safety, and was kind enough to slide a gloved hand down the back of your skull. It's resting there, gentle at first; Before he's fisting locks of your hair between his fingers and using it as leverage to thrust his hips right up against your face. Over, and over. And over. Until you're choking on his cock and spit is dripping down your chin in a foamy froth that, to him, proves just how much you're willing to give

He may be playing nice for just a moment, but it doesn't last too long as he pulls you in closer to him and buries your nose against the dark, coarse, curly hair bunched at the base of his length.

He grins behind the mask, chuckling again when he finally lets go of you and allows you to remove yourself from his cock. Your gasps fill his chest with -- pride? The feeling swells, feeling as though it might burst from the way you sit back against the wall and look up at him with glossy eyes that silently beg for more.

"Come here, pretty girl."

Reaching down, large hands grasp at your sides to pull you to your feet. Your knees ache, bruised from the ground you'd been pushed and pulled against as his cock violated your throat for what felt like at least twenty minutes - even if it had really only been just over five.

"Right there. That's right." He maneuvers you with ease, turning your body away from him so you can bend yourself over the side of the mattress in the middle of the room. The scent of the sheets is wildly familiar - a sudden memory of your friend Chris entering your head. He'd worn a cologne just like this at a party the previous weekend. And as you peek open your eyes, you realize you've seen these sheets before.

Of course it was his room you'd wandered into so blindly.

The memory of your dear friend escapes almost as soon as it comes, washed from your mind as the man behind you - above you - around you - leans down close enough so his chest can press against the swell of your back. His hands snake around the warmth of your sides, feeling over the pink of your dress as he hums in a low tone behind the mask. The sound is muffled - muted, to you - but it's made so painfully obvious by the way his chest vibrates with every low sound that escapes him.

His hands press further, running over the expanse of your ribcage before gripping at your body to pull you back. It's a quick jerking motion, one that makes you tumble back into him and fall to your elbows on the sheets you had spent nights in before. A sound escapes, a gasp of shock and relief as his bare cock slides against your panties from behind.

The man seems fond of your body, as if appreciating it while his hands run over your form. They leave your abdomen to lull higher, cupping the swell of your breasts and giving a subtle squeeze that leaves you wanting more - just as he pulls them away. He removes himself from above you, the lack of warmth making you lift your head and whimper in soft complaint.

You find yourself staring into a mirror - directly across from where he had laid you on the bed. Perched on your elbows, back arched, ass up for him. You can see clear as day the way his hand slides over your rear and down your thigh, reaching to hook a finger in your panties and pull back on them until he can let go and let the lace snap against your dripping slit.

The sound that leaves your lips is to die for.

His finger hooks back in the lace and pulls, this time to the side so he can move his hips in and press the tip of his cock to your pretty little hole. Waiting for him, dripping slick that leaks down your thighs and clenching around nothing as your body aches for him. Yearns for him.

You don't even know who he is and yet you're so desperate.

"Fuck -- Yes," You breathe heavy, your body gently lulling forward in a sway as he presses into your gummy walls with ease. It's a tight fit for him - he can't deny that - and it really is something he'd never forget. His body aches for more; Craves for more. So he snaps his hips forward almost immediately in a way that causes you to cry out louder than before.

He huffs, chest rising and falling in quick motions underneath the costume he wore. He couldn't help the way he breathed so heavy, especially with the mask on and wanting to keep it for a while longer so you would remain guessing and wanting to know who he is.

His hips snap in quick succession. His hands, rid of the gloves after he'd thrown them aside in anger that he couldn't properly feel the curves of your body with them on, grip tight at your his. His fingertips dig in and he uses his hold to pull you back onto his cock as he rocks forward, every motion so quick that even watching in the mirror is one big blur for you.

The way he snaps his cock into your walls, tip pressing to your cervix and kissing at it every other push; The way his body begins to drop down closer to yours the more he ruts into you in desperation for release.

He's nearly flush to your back now; Moaning and huffing and panting out in want for more, even if he's rutting his hips against your own as fast as he possibly can, the poor bed frame squeaking beneath the force he places down upon you.

But he refuses to give in so easily. That - or he gives up.

Sitting up and lifting a hand to the mask, his fingers curl in the black fabric and pull hard, ripping it from his head and shoulders. The reveal renders you speechless - the soft moans previously leaving your lips now silent as you stare up at him in admiration.

Hwang Hyunjin ; A quieter, kinder boy you'd only known from a Biology class the two of you shared. He sat kitty-corner to you at a table next to Chris, bumping their knees together to annoy the senior and giggling when Changbin - another senior of his - threw paper balls at the back of his head during class.

He always seemed so... booksmart. Nerdy. Dorky.

The reveal of his perfectly structured face glistening with a thin sheen of sweat really proved the fact that he is a loser in a hot body.

But you'd be straight lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love the way sweat began to bead and drip down the sides of his face, pooling and falling from his chin in a way that proved his effort.

"Oh my -- God," You choke on your words, staring up at your classmate through the mirror painting the wall across from you.

Plump lips curl into a knowing smirk. You hadn't suspected it to be him - Had you? You'd never seen the confident, sexually charged side of him that came out when he was outside of class - partying or dancing or rapping with his friends at karaoke. The cocky bastard that wanted the girl no one could get. (Oh, wait. That's you.)

"No need to keep staring, baby," He chuckles, his voice finally cleared of the distortion and truly his own. Low, raspy. As if he'd just woken up. "I'll find a way to make this moment last forever."

While your lips part in questioning and a soft sound leaves your throat to give him a shy reply, his fingers curl into your hair from behind. The locks, thick and heavy with sweat from the events of the night, tangle between thick knuckles that grip so tight you're sure he's never going to let go. Hyunjin tugs - no, pulls - back on your head to let your back arch in a way that made you nearly scream in pleasure as he continued pounding his hips into your own.

"C'mon. Come here, baby."

Pulling just a little more taught, Hyunjin lets himself slump forward. HIs chest presses just barely to your shoulders as he leans down, free hand slinging around to your front holding a small black camera that looks as if it'd come straight out of 2009.

As the camera clicks to life and the red light blinks in warning that the flash is coming your way, Hyunjin snakes his hand down from your hair to wrap around your throat instead. Your face, flushed and painted red with want and admiration, is in clear view of the small screen on the opposite side of the camera. "That's it..."

Hyunjin coos, biting into his lower lip as his thumb presses a bit harder down on the shutter button.

The red light blinks again and the flash springs to life, blinding you momentarily as if your sex-ridden haze wasn't enough.

"Smile for me, baby."

Taglist : @crybabykurominho @softkisshyunjin @minniesverse @dwaekkicidal @lixies-favorite-cookie @bookheadeily @jeonginsleftcheek @madkati @jisunglyricist @millseyes-world @warpedspirit @lovetaroandtaemin @ka0ila

@jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

[jaykaysthicthighs]

Late Night Talks | JJK

excerpt | it's past one in the morning and you and your boyfriend talk the night away... maybe more than just talking

genre | major fluff, humor

pairing | jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating | pg-16

warnings | strong language, some of dirty thoughts/actions, reader and jk being the cutest on earth (heart might actually burst), jk being needy, kissing, jk being unfiltered, jk being a menace, jk being a dirty dude, just jk being unhinged, reader loving the attention, reader going along with jk's playful ways, reader and jk have disgustingly cute thoughts about each other

wc | 4k+

notes | i’m finally back after so fucking long, but this is my first time writing something so heartwarming.... I AM VERY EXCITED!!! this is also very short but i hope it’s still a fun read despite that. there might be some spelling mistakes, so i’m sorry if there is… :/

The comfort of the weighted blanket and the shine of the moonlight had lulled you to sleep... that was until you felt cold rough hands roam your bare back. Your eyes popped out and you quickly squirmed away from the harsh sensation. You turned around to find the perpetrator and you came face to face with the one you call "yours".

"Jungkook!" you squealed. The biggest smile painted your beautiful face and, in that moment, you didn't care that the handsome man in front of you had ruined your amazing sleep.

Jungkook watched you with love swimming in his eyes. He watched as your alluring face shone with great surprise. A goddess you were. He also took in a quick notice on how you displayed nothing but pretty blue panties on; he almost felt himself drooling at the enchanting sight.

You lunged at your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his big build. Thankfully Jungkook knew how you get when you're excited, so the moment you took the first steps to him, he immediately knew that a big hug was taking its course. He gently held you as you both fell backwards; a loud thump echoed throughout the room. You looked down to see that your boyfriend had cushioned the fall.

His face contorted with pain, he rasped out, "You okay, baby?" You softly cupped his face and gave the pained man a chaste kiss on the lips. With his face still between your small hands, you stared into his mesmerizing brown doe-eyes. You lightly whispered against the lips of your lover, "You shouldn't be asking me that."

Jungkook saw the tenderly feeling you projected at him with your pretty eyes. He couldn't control the craving he had for you; he'd been away from you for what seemed like forever. The spell that you didn't know you were doing captivated him, and he loved every second of it.

He swiftly picked you up and gently placed you on the bed, only for him to aggressively kiss you like there was no tomorrow; the action left you breathless. But in a quick second, you replicated the same feeling back.

One hand gripped the compression shirt that Jungkook had on, wanting to be as close to him as possible. While the other hand, you raked your fingers through his soft hair gently pulling from time to time. Jungkook had one arm looped around your torso, and the other cupping your face. The kiss was getting loud and messy; moans were being swallowed by the other, teeth would clash, togues would fight for control.

You pulled away hoping to catch your breath, but Jungkook doesn't seem to want to give you that choice, because his next action knocked you ways back. Jungkook loves the way you shudder under his touch, so when you detached your lips from his, he placed his mouth on your neck, feeling your pulse rapidly going. Your neck started becoming his next meal. You couldn't keep up with the constant pleasure; you grabbed a fistful of your boyfriend's hair and pulled him away from you. Breathlessly, you demanded, "No more. I can't keep up, babe."

Jungkook pouted at your words; he scooted himself in the corner of the room and sarcastically grumbled, "You hate me, huh, ____?" You watched your boyfriend with wide eyes at his accusation. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior and giggled under your breath. You started getting cold, so you took the initiative on finding yourself a shirt. As you dug around your dresser, you could feel the intense burn of a certain someone staring you down.

Jungkook watched you with lust building up. He could never be tired of seeing the ethereal being roaming around the place. The moonlight shining on your bare skin makes it look like you're the rarest gem he's ever seen. You could be wearing the most ridiculous outfit, and he would still think you're the most precious thing that has ever lived.

You finally found a shirt to wear that had little cats on it, and in the midst of putting on the shirt, you called out, "How long are you gonna be staring at me? I can feel your eyes burn though my back."

Jungkook slyly smirked to himself. Not wanting to admit that his eyes were thirsting for your body, he teased with sass, "Honey... what makes you think you're so special for me to look at? Hmm?"

You turned around with your mouth agape. You could see the slight glimmer of playfulness in his eyes, so to match the energy, you retorted back, "Well then, I guess you wouldn't mind if I were to post that picture on my insta, since you think that I'm not special for me to be looked at."

In a flash you saw his face drop with seriousness; that made you smile so much brighter. Jungkook on the other hand knew that you were joking, but yet the thought of others seeing that precious photo of you made his blood slightly boil. He so badly wanted to wipe that pretty smile off your face, but he loved the cuteness you displayed when you were getting on his nerves. So, wanting to keep that version of yourself a little longer he fed into your teasing.

Jungkook got up and trudged his way to your perky self. Once he was fully in front of you, he dropped his head on your shoulder and quietly pleaded, "Don't post that photo, baby, please? I will do whatever you want me to. I just can't have others seeing what's mine."

Your boyfriend's words were feeding into your ego; you felt somewhat victorious. You tapped your lips and showcased an expression that you were thinking about his words. "Hmm... well since you seem upset, I guess I won't post it, but in exchange I need you to truly beg - like down on your knees and your hands in prayer position."

Jungkook took a deep breath in when he heard those words. You never fail to make him feel disbelief from your words or actions. He lifted up his head and like the good boyfriend he is, he got down and was ready to beg... until you raised your hand and interrupted, "Hold on for a quick second. I have to get my phone."

In that moment, Jungkook felt like ripping out his hair. He inaudibly yelled and before you could grab your phone, he threw you over his shoulder.

"Jungkook!" you squealed, "What are you doing? Let me down!" Jungkook didn't reply to you, instead he ran out the room and once he reached the living room, the tall man started jumping; like you were weights, and he was doing exercises. You tried yelling out your anger, but with all the movements, all you could spout out was laughs and groans.

After what seems like forever, Jungkook finally set you down on the couch and smiled with triumph. He saw the way your chest was heaving up and down, the way your hair was all over the place, the tired expression on your face; a certain thought punched its way through his brain. With arms crossed and a content emotion painting him, Jungkook lightly laughed, "You know, baby, this view in front of me... dangerously beautiful."

You looked up at your boyfriend with heavy eyes and said, "What are you talking about?" Jungkook answered, "I'm saying that you look fucked, like I just fucked you hard and bad type-a-fucked." You leaned your head back and let out a sigh, "What the hell, Jungkook." You soon started laughing, "Why are you like this?" The man standing before you laughed as well.

With your head still leaned back you felt a deep dip right by you. You lightly tilted your head to see the view of your beautiful lover beaming with a serene expression. The love you have for this man is so evergreen. The thought that you have gained such a breathtaking partner, never fails to amaze you. The slight dimple that showcased itself the moment he smiled burst opened your heart. You immediately jumped into his lap in a straddle position and nested your head in the crook of his neck.

Jungkook grabbed tight of you and held you with such tenderness; both hands gently caressing your clothed back. This right here is home to him.

"How was work?" you spoke out.

"Hmm, it was good. Nothing to say really - oh wait... I got a new client and she -"

You quickly jerked your head up and gave your boyfriend a stern look; you interrupted, "She? Is she prettier than me?" Jungkook felt himself deeply sigh within. Every time he brings up the slightest mention of a girl you start turning into a jealous girlfriend. But Jungkook knows deep down you're only do this for attention. You will trust this man no matter what.

Jungkook softly grabbed your face and stared at you with reassurance. "Babe," he quietly proclaimed, "There is no other girl than you... and I say that with everything in me. How can I be with - even think about another woman than you? ____, believe when I say this... you are the only one for me. The only one I want to be with. Okay, you have to stop with that bullshit. You little attention seeker."

You started blushing like crazy. You knew that nobody else matter but you, but you still can't help but want to play a bit crazy. You hid your face right back to its previous position and smiled with every fiber in you. You always loved pushing his buttons.

Still red about what your lover had said, you murmured against his warm neck, "Did you at least made sure that you weren't a single man?"

Jungkook gave you slight side eye knowing that you won't be able to see his reaction. He formed his lips to a thin line and did another deep sigh. Trying to calm himself, Jungkook did little traces of circles on your smooth bare thigh. You felt this action and you knew that you got him annoyed. He always does this to make sure he doesn't have an outburst.

Before you had the chance to take back your question, Jungkook intervened, "You certainly are something, babe. I'll have you know - before you interrupted me in the beginning and said your little nonsense question - my client is a 36-year-old, gay woman. The reason why she wanted to have me as her trainer is because she wanted the woman she likes to be jealous. I'm the pawn, babe."

You mentally slapped yourself. You always did this; jump to conclusions was what you were good at. You sucked in some air through your teeth and slowly raised your head to apologize. The second you did though, Jungkook already had an expression that read "Are you happy now?".

You showed an embarrassed smile and softly laughed, "Oops." you exhaled. At that moment, Jungkook felt his heart flutter by your cuteness despite you getting him annoyed. He couldn't help but give in. He swiftly hooked one arm around your torso and the other gabbed a hold of your ass to keep you secured; he stood up and smiled at you.

The action took you by surprise but the second you saw his beautiful bunny smile you became the happiest person in that moment. You looped your arms around his shoulders and giggle, "What are you doing?" Jungkook kept quiet. Admiring you was all he could do right now; inspect every inch of that gorgeous face of yours. You saw the little twinkles in his irises and you wondered if it was the lights... it wasn't. It was all pure love that showed.

The look he gave you right now made you feel like you were the only person on this earth, that you were the only person his eyes could lay on. You felt like a goddess upon his longing stare.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

Jungkook carefully walked with you in his arms to the kitchen. He set you down on one of chairs around the kitchen island and kissed your cheek. He made his way to the cabinets and asked, "Okay, I can either make you some hot chocolate or chamomile tea. Something good and relaxing since its late. Take your pick?"

You pursed your lips while you did some thinking. "Hmm, I'll take some warm water instead, please?" Jungkook did a sharp turn of his head and gave you a grossed look. "Who the fuck drinks warm water? Oh, wait, you..." he dramatically said.

Not wanting him to get away with it, you fired back, "Who the fuck wears toe socks? Oh, hold on a minute, you... Oh, and don't get me started on who eats -"

The man before you rushed to your side and clasped his rough hand over your mouth. Your eyes gave a dirty look and you brushed his hand off from you. With playfulness lacing your words, you dared, "I can keep this going all night. So, either you give me what I asked for or I can tell you more that I have in mind. Take. Your. Pick?"

What you had said made Jungkook fall in love with you all over again. Your boldness was one of the things that caught his attention. Jungkook released some air from out his throat and grinned. "It shouldn't be, but that was fucking hot." He walked his way to fill up some water in the kettle, and added, "You know, ____, I wouldn't mind you talking like that to me again." Your breathing stopped for a quick second when those words left his mouth. Your face got a little red.

You breathed roughly through your nose and lightly exhaled with a smile, “You know, babe, you sound like you like being degraded.”

Jungkook slowly turned his head and gave you a sly smirk. You rolled your eyes at his action and softly smiled to yourself, “Stupid.” you quietly whispered.

After a few minutes Jungkook got done doing the drinks. He placed the cups on the counter with a soft clink, and you watched as the steam curled up from the hot liquid. He slid your warm water over to you, his fingers briefly brushing against yours, sending a small thrill through your veins.

He settled into the chair beside you, his knee grazing yours under the table. You both knew this comfortable proximity, this quiet intimacy, was something special. It was in these small moments that the bond between you deepened, wordlessly.

Your buff bunny took a sip of his hot chocolate, his eyes never leaving yours, the warmth of the drink mirroring the warmth that filled the space between you two. "You know," he began, his voice soft and teasing, "there are a lot of things I'd let you get away with, but not with that look you just gave me."

You chuckled, lifting your cup to your lips. The warmth of the water soothed you, but it was his presence that really made you feel at ease. "And what look was that?" you asked, your voice a bit huskier than usual. You knew that he knew what you were doing, and he’s loving every second of it.

He shrugged nonchalantly, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "That look that says you're always one step ahead of me. It's infuriatingly attractive," he admitted, leaning in closer.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. This man was too much for your tiny heart. "So what you're saying is, you like it when I have the upper hand?"

Jungkook’s a competitive guy, but you’re a different case. "Only when it's you," he replied without missing a beat. The sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. "But don't think I'm going to let you have it all the time. I have my ways of keeping up."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that so? And how do you plan on doing that?" He grinned, setting his cup down and reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was tender, sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I have my ways. But you'll just have to wait and see."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that a challenge, Jungkook?" You saw his eyes sparkled with excitement. "Only if you're up for it, baby. You know I love a good challenge.”

"You're on," you replied, your voice filled with determination.

The night was quiet, save for the occasional sounds of the kettle clicking off or the gentle hum of the refrigerator. Outside, the world was still, wrapped in the serenity that comes with the late hours of the night. Inside, however, the air between you and Jungkook was electric, charged with a playful energy that neither of you could resist.

As the minutes ticked by, you found yourself leaning more into the conversation, your words flowing easily as you teased and bantered with him. He matched you word for word, never backing down, always ready with a witty retort or a flirty comment that made your heart race.

At one point, your lover leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you with a satisfied smile. "I think I'm winning," he declared, his tone smug. You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your smile. "You wish. I'm just getting started."

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, filling the space with warmth. Ohh how you love that sound with everything you have. "That's what I love about you, ____. You're always ready for more."

His little comment got you paused for a moment, your smile softening. Jungkook saw the small action and every time you smiled his love meter rises - and boy-oh-boy the bar is stretching across the galaxy. "And what else do you love about me?" you asked, your voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Jungkook met your gaze, his expression serious now. "Everything," he said simply. "Your strength, your kindness, your ability to keep me on my toes. The way you make me laugh, the way you challenge me. I love all of it. I don’t think I’ll be able to function - even live properly without you, ____. Your whole existence… I need that. I would tell you millions of reasons on why I love you, but then I would have to write a whole novel."

His words took you by surprise, and for a moment, you were speechless. It wasn’t rare for Jungkook to tell you how much he loves you, but it was certainly rare for him to say such deep feelings like that - you hadn't expected him to be so open, so honest. But then again, that was Jungkook. He always had a way of surprising you, of showing you sides of himself that you hadn't seen much before.

You reached out, placing your hand on his warm soft cheek. "I love you too," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. His eyes softened, and he nuzzled his face more against your hand. "I know," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

The moment was intimate, filled with a quiet understanding that didn't need words. It was in these moments that you realized just how deep your connection with Jungkook was. It wasn't just about the teasing or the playful banter. It was about the love that had grown between you, the bond that had strengthened over time.

He placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Come on," he said after a while, his voice soft. "Let's finish our drinks and get to bed. I wanna lay down and touch some boobs.”

You playfully grabbed some of his hair pulling it while trying to display an annoyed expression. In the midst of you doing that, Jungkook wanted to push your button a bit more… so he moaned.

“Babe!” You yelled out. You clasped your hand on his mouth trying to shut him up, but it just made him moan even louder. Jungkook was having so much fun, to the point where he even produce tears from all the laughing.

After that small fiasco, everything dialed down. Jungkook stood up and offered you his hand, but you didn’t want to accept it because of how much he pissed you off, “Stop being stubborn and take my damn hand, babe.” Jungkook groaned out. “No.” You simply said.

Jungkook yet again threw you over his shoulder just like last time. While walking his way to your guy’s room, you had your face down, keeping a close eye on your boyfriend’s lovely plump ass.

Once in the bedroom, Jungkook let go of you to pull back the covers, a smile playing on his lips as he watched you climb into bed. He quickly took off his clothes - just leaving him in his boxers and slid in beside you. He pulled the blanket over the both of you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist as your back perfectly rested along his front.

You felt a movement towards your chest; it was slow and steady. Just a second later you felt a rough hand softly grope one of your boobs. You quietly sighed, “This is all you’re doing. Better not have any other ideas, babe.” Jungkook gave a hum as a response and pulled you even closer.

The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. You could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body pressing against yours. It was in moments like these that you felt the most connected to him, as if the world outside didn't matter as long as you were together.

Jungkook shifted slightly, his hand running up and down your smooth tummy in slow, soothing strokes. Everything was feeling and going so good, until your idiot boyfriend ruined the moment.

“Can we fuck?”

“Shut the hell up and sleep.”

Everything was silent. Few seconds later you both giggled like kids having their first sleepover. You turned around and gave your love a kiss. Jungkook wanted to kiss you longer but he knew to respect your boundaries.

“Fuck… you get me too excited.”

“Hashtag ‘lol’”

Jungkook felt like crying at your stupid comment but the tiredness was catching up to him. “Alrighty then, babe, we have a big day later so let’s sleep now.”

“Okey dokey.”

“I love you, ____.”

“I love you, Jungkook.”

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. The night had been perfect, filled with laughter, love, and the kind of quiet moments that you cherished. And as you lay there, wrapped up in his arms, you knew that there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

[poppylovestowrite]

Just A Little Longer | Karma Akabane x Reader

"Hey, Karma, do you have a girlfriend?"

Karma looks up from his phone. It was one of his classmates and his friend, Nakamura, looming over him and staring at him with skepticism, yet he could find some amusement in her blue eyes. 

He wasn't surprised to see that it was Nakamura who asked him that question first. Nagisa seems a little suspicious, but the boy knows how to keep his nose out of people's business, unless he is really concerned. And Koro-sensei... well, let's just say he managed to keep that guy's mouth shut.

As for the rest of the class, none seem to have caught on to him yet. Sure, some of his past behaviour over the last several weeks has been odd, but nothing worth talking about. Nakamura, however, must have been more curious than ever. 

"No," came Karma's response. It was calm, and he answered without missing a beat. 

The skepticism in Nakamura's blue eyes didn't waver, and for good reason. Karma was by far the most cunning and devious teenager she had ever met. She couldn't just easily buy his answer. The guy can lie like he breathes. 

"Hmm." She hums with a slight nod. 

Karma went back to his phone, ignoring the blonde teenager who, for some reason, wasn't leaving. Instead, she takes a seat in front of him, which wasn't even her seat; it was Chiba's, but whatever. If she thinks he can intimidate him with her stare, then she's more than welcome to sit there until Chiba returns. 

But Nakamura wasn't here to intimidate him. 

And in an instant, Nakamura grabbed Karma's phone and flashed the screen to her face.

"I knew you were hiding--"

What Nakamura expected to find was evidence of Karma chatting with a girl, but all she found was a typical mobile game he was playing. The corner of Karma's lips curled slightly. A small chuckle almost escaped his lips, but he managed to keep it in. 

"Can I have my phone back?" Karma asked indifferently, not really bothered that Nakamura was trying to invade his privacy. Whatever she is looking for, she won't find it in there.

The blonde puffed her cheeks, frowned, and aggressively handed back his phone.

"I know you're secretly dating someone." Nakamura finally confronts him. "C'mon, just tell me."

"There is nothing to tell. I don't know where you got the idea that I'm secretly dating someone."

"You seemed to be on your phone a lot more," Nakamura says. "Terasaka said that you're constantly texting someone."

Karma tilts his head to the side innocently. "You're gonna believe that dumb ox? He needs to get his eyes checked. I'm not texting anyone, I'm just obsessed with this new game..." He shows her the front of his phone. "As you can see."

Nakamura pursed her lips. "Hara said she saw you in the grocery store buying expensive chocolate."

Jeez, there is no privacy in this classroom. 

"I was in the mood for chocolate."

"They were expensive, though." She counters.

"My parents have money, you know that. I can afford to spoil myself."

"Yeah, but you're not the type to willingly throw out money like that."

It's true. Karma was never the type to willingly throw money on frivolous things. Sure, he'll go out and buy a new game the second it comes out, but other than that, he keeps most of his money tucked away.  

"I can be pretty spontaneous." Karma smiles.

Nakamura slightly narrowed her eyes. "You've also seemed to be... really happy these days." 

"I am?" Karma feigns innocence. 

"Oh, I know." Nakamura suddenly gasps. "It's a guy, you're dating a guy, aren't you?"

Karma could feel the corner of his eye twitch. Seriously? A guy? He swears, if she says he is secretly dating Asano, he is going to straight up murder this girl. He doesn't give a shit if she's a girl, he's going to kick her ass.

"It's Asano, isn't it?"

...

Karma slowly gets up from his chair, and it's criminal how quickly the air turned cold just by a simple move. 

"I'M KIDDING, I'M KIDDING!" Nakamura hurriedly laughs, though hardly affected by how dangerous Karma looked for a second there. 

Karma sighs annoyingly and sits back down. "I almost threw up there." He grimaces. 

"Psh, yeah. I don't blame you." Nakamura clears her throat and gives Karma one last serious look.

This wasn't going anywhere like she was hoping. And yeah, none of this behaviour automatically means Karma had a girlfriend. Those were just circumstantial evidence. Besides, even if he did have a girlfriend, why would he be hiding her from all his friends in the first place? Nagisa has been to Karma's place just recently, and according to the small blue-haired male, there were no signs of a girl visiting him.

The only reason Nakamura could think of if Karma had a secret girlfriend would be because she is ashamed of dating someone from the End Class. And there is no way Karma would waste his time on someone who is ashamed of him. The guy has more respect for himself than that. 

"So..." Nakamura drawls. "No secret girlfriend?"

"No," Karma answers just as calmly as before. "Sounds like too much work, don't you think?"

Nakamura slowly nods the more she thinks about it, seemingly getting more and more convinced, which secretly relieves Karma. 

Nakamura finally gets up and leaves, and Karma goes back to his phone. Not to play. He leaves the gaming app and goes to his Discord app, switches to his second account. No one knows about his second account. 

Only you.

Karma checks to see if you finally responded to the message he sent you before coming to class. 

Karma: Can you come over tonight? We can do a movie night again.

You normally take some time to respond, since you were constantly surrounded by many people. But, it seems as though you found some alone time, because you responded to him while he was talking to Nakamura.

Princess Peach: Sure <3

Nakamura was spot on about her assumption. Man, women's intuition sure is scary. He has been texting in class a lot more, under the guise of playing this new game, which he wasn't lying about being a little obsessed over. And that expensive chocolate was meant for you. Any chocolate would have done since you have such a sweet tooth, but he felt like you deserve the best kind. 

And, also, yes, he was pretty happy these days. 

How can he not be? 

It sounds cheesy, but life does feel more lively when you find that special someone. 

The only downside to this happy relationship was... well, the secret part. It's fun. Don't get him wrong. He loves the stolen kisses, the sneaking around and managing to get an innocent girl like you lying to everyone. 

But, he does wish the two of you could casually walk around the city, go on normal dates during the day, and show everyone you're his girl. Instead, he has no choice but to keep his mouth shut. 

It's unfortunate, but necessary for your sake. 

Because, well, you're not just any girl. No. You come from high society. A rich family that is beloved by everyone. You had one of the best grades. You came from money. You were perfect. You had to be perfect. And in that perfect world your parents created for you, there was no room for someone like him

You had those cliché strict parents. The type who expects nothing but perfection from you. That included who you dated. There is no way your parents would ever approve of him. 

Those two have you under their control. He knows you don't like it. But this was what you grew up with. It was normal to you. To Karma, it may seem easy to tell any adult to piss of, but when he looks at it in your point of view, it must be utterly terrifying to even say no to them. Though that didn't stop you from seeing him and agreeing to be in a relationship with him. 

You've always been terrified to go against your parents. No matter how small the rule was, you didn't dare break it. Yet, that didn't stop you from confessing to him first and even agreeing to hide the relationship.

You both knew it was a bad idea. In the back of Karma's mind, he was convinced that this relationship could end up in heartbreak. Hiding a relationship behind the people who could ruin your life in an instant was a reckless choice. 

Yet...

Princess Peach: I can't wait to see you (´∀`)

Karma smiles a little. 

Yet, young, foolish and in love, you both felt invincible. Like nothing can ruin this relationship. 

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

"What movie do you want to see?"

You hummed and thought about it.

It was date night for the two of you. Unlike the other girls in your class who meet up with their boyfriends after school, you have to wait until the coast is clear before you can go on a date with Karma. And even that is a risk. Sure, Karma takes you to places that are far from the district, but that doesn't stop you from glancing over your shoulder every now and then.

So, the best places to have a date was Karma's house. His parents were never home, which gave the two of you a lot of privacy. Getting here can be a bit tense. You would always wear a hoodie. Something that obscure your face and frame. Karma would always keep the door open for you when he knows you're coming so you can just walk in without having to wait in front of the door. 

"I don't know. You pick." You eventually said with a shrug as you got comfortable on the couch. 

"Very bold of you to let me pick, considering the kind of movie I picked last week." Karma smirks.

You winced at the memory. Last week, he picked a horror movie. It was the first scary movie you had ever seen. You have no idea why he would pick that, because you were shaking the entire time.  

"But you promised me you wouldn't show me any more scary movies." You puffed your cheeks with a frown, trying to look stern, but it just made Karma think of an angry puppy. 

"Haha, yeah, yeah, I know." 

Little did you know, Karma only picked that because he wanted a reason for you to cling to him. It was so cute that he was tempted to pick another horror movie for a repeat, but he decided to show you some mercy. 

This time, Karma put on a much more tame movie. You watch comfortably, with him sitting next to you, your shoulder pressed up against his. Every time you giggled or smiled pleasantly at a scene, Karma would take a small glance at you. His heart would flutter at the angelic sound. 

Karma would sometimes lean in, adding his own commentary to the movie, which made you giggle or encouraged you to add your own commentary. Sometimes, you would both lose focus on the movie and just talk. 

Right now, at this moment, everything was perfect. Times like these remind you why you're with him. It reminds you why you're going to all this trouble to keep him by yourself. 

The answer is simple...

Karma puts an arm around you, bringing you closer to him. Your heart flutters as he lets you rest your head against his chest and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. 

... It's because he makes you happy. 

"That movie was so nice." You beamed as you clasped your hands together once the movie ended. 

"I'm glad you liked it," Karma says happily as he reaches for the remote to turn off the TV. 

The words 'what do you wanna do' almost slipped out of his mouth. Suddenly, the bubble popped, and you were both forced to face the reality of your relationship. Neither of you moves, though. If you don't, you feel like you could actually stop time. But time doesn't stop. Not even for you and him. The clock kept ticking, and you knew you had to leave.

"I have to go back." You smiled sadly.

Karma dully nods. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's not your fault."

You forced yourself to smile. "Can we see each other tomorrow? Same time?"

Karma gives you a puzzled look. "Aren't your parents taking you out to dinner tomorrow?"

"I can give another excuse."

"No, don't do that," Karma sighs and scratches his head, even if he does want you to ditch your parents. "You already blew them off twice. They might get suspicious if you do it again."

You opened your mouth, wanting to persuade him, but ultimately, closed your mouth. He's right. The parents closely monitor your behaviour. If they find the slightest crack in the way you act, they won't hesitate to call you out on it. 

With a heavy heart, you grabbed his hand lovingly and smiled tenderly at Karma. "See you tomorrow at school."

But the two of you can't even speak to each other. He's a class 3-E student. He has no reason to speak to the school's perfect princess. It would be too suspicious. The most you can do is give each other a passing glance. As far as everyone knows, you and Karma have never ever spoken to each other.  

You reluctantly stood up. If you stayed there any longer, you might not ever leave his side. 

Karma watches your back as you make your way to the door. He was supposed to get up and walk you to the door, but instead, he stayed there for a moment, as he felt the way his heart ached by watching you leave. 

Just a minute ago, you were sitting so close to him and enjoying the movie. Just a minute ago, you two had forgotten about everything beyond these walls. And now, reality came crashing in, ruining this perfect little bubble you both have created. 

So, watching you leave, despite wanting to stay longer, broke Karma's heart. He was sending you back to that golden cage you utterly despised while he's free. 

 Karma leaves the couch. He catches up to you, and from behind, he wraps his arms around you, embracing you in a hug.

You squeaked lightly, not expecting such a sudden embrace.

"K-Karma?" You stuttered in surprise as the colour red invaded your cheeks. 

"Stay with me. Just a little longer, okay?" He mumbles, burying his face against your shoulder.

The tenderness in his voice made you submit. Your eyes softened as you melted into his warmth. 

You pretend the world stops again. The outside world does not matter again.

You need to go. There was a clock ticking in your head, but it was getting quite the longer Karma pushed you. You have to stop pretending. You should push him away, but you didn't have the heart to bring yourself to do that. Especially when you remember the life that awaits you when you return home.

He was keeping you trapped in his arms, but it's the most freedom you've felt. More than you have ever felt in your own home. You turned around and fully embraced him, relishing his warmth and love. 

Just a little longer. Can the world allow you this much? 

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Details I noticed on my rewatch

These scenes are parallels. We have the poets sitting more or less in the same positions, and Todd where Neil sat, and Charlie and Neil smoking vs Charlie and Todd smoking (hourglass plot save me…). Someone tries to blow the smoke away when they hear someone coming, and the one that comes is Mr Perry/Cameron (who their anger is directed towards. In the first scene, Charlie is angry at Mr Perry, in the second scene, Charlie is angry at Cameron). Charlie just standing there, not doing anything vs Charlie fighting with Cameron and throwing a punch. Todd just standing there not talking (not to Mr Perry, not to the poets) vs Todd talking. The beginning vs the end.

(They also sit like that while in the cave)

The many sexual references. References to boobs, to sex, to virgins, to naked bodies, one that I interpret as a dick reference, and even non sexual scenes like kissing. In a time period such as the 50s where sexuality was pretty conservative, and specially in Welton which was somehow even more conservative and sexless (it was an all-boys school, so no heterosexual sex, and obviously gay sex was forbidden), this many mentions are rare. Sexuality was very restricted, and yet the poets talk about it freely, and so does mr keating. Another way he’s liberating them, just like taking them out of class to teach (taking them out of closed spaces) this sex references are also a way of helping them be free.

The “tradition” banner being visible in this scene (and the clock, and white and black pictures of students I think, reminiscent of Keating’s first lesson)

The term “madman” appears before, Todd didn’t just pull it out of thin air. While they’re in the cave telling stories, they mention a madman.

“the face of a demented madman” -Neil

“and there's a madman on the-” -Cameron

It makes me think than Todd saw Walt Whitman, associated him to poetry, and when thinking of poetry that night at the cave was what first came to him. That’s so cute ngl.

Since we talked about Neil/Todd and Charlie smoking just now, Charlie smokes a lot, Neil smokes since the first scene (it’s only him and Charlie the ones smoking). I’m talking cigarette, not pipe. Neil’s mom is a smoker (one thing he has in common with her, alongside not really having a voice when his dad is concerned. Neil and his mom…), but so is Todd’s! A little similarity with Neil’s parents and Todd’s, quiet smoker mom and dad that does the aggressive talking.

Oh and these scenes right here? Parallels

Can you see in the second picture how there are two gaps? One for Neil and one for Cameron? :)

How do I know these scenes are parallels? Or, well, contrasts? I mean, the positions are the same, and they’re wearing the same coats (you can’t see it in the photos but just trust me). Except one is at night and the other at morning, one is happy and the other isn’t. In one they’re on the right in the other on the left, dark blue and light blue. And in both they’re sneaking out of their rooms.