#everyone bikes here but like no one wears a helmet...

[unpretty]

a fact about me is that i was an early bloomer who hit puberty in elementary school and was immediately, obnoxiously horny in ways that were uncomfortable for everyone because no one is prepared for an elementary schooler with b cups and a deep fascination with movies where people get tied up. another fact is that because i was considered smart for my age in the ways that mattered, i just accepted all this as a single package, the many ways that i was not really a child the way other children were children but was instead a miniature adult. i was technically a child, but not really, as far as i was concerned. it also did not occur to me until around high school that i was fat, because i instead considered myself to be sturdy, to be buff, to be built like a tank.

so somewhere around middle school i am noticing the ways in which i am Not Like Other Girls, the ways in which i am not what society says a girl is and the ways that things marketed to girls do not appeal to me. i don't know how other girls dealt with this, but i very rationally decided that i was only technically a girl, in the way that i was only technically a child. so i looked at the things that did appeal to me, and that i did enjoy, and reverse engineered my demographic to decide that on a practical and functional level i was a middle-aged man. i had also gotten really hornily into wolverine because of the first x-men movie, and ended up reading a lot of comics, so as you can imagine the comic book version of wolverine who is short and built like a tank and older than he looks despite being for all intents and purposes a middle aged man really had some appeal to me.

there are idiots who say shit about how tomboys would be considered trans these days or whatever, but i can assure you that was not what was happening here. by middle school i already had to special order bras and i was fine with that because of the many weird fetishes i was developing, none of which can be blamed on the internet because i hadn't found that shit yet and also to this day you would have a hard time finding anything similar to the things i wrote in my secret notebook and immediately destroyed. the fact that i was technically a girl was vital to all this. media where there was a big reveal that some cool dude had been a hot chick the whole time was my shit. weird feral beast people who turned out to be hot women once they took a bath? fuck yes. i would never have cut my hair because that would have ruined my chances to take off a helmet and reveal that i had girl hair. at no point did i think i was anything but a girl, it was just that i was functionally a middle-aged man, who was a girl.

what this means is that i still liked all the things i already liked, such as leather jackets and comic books and anime and old stand-up comedy, but i also did extensive research on the other things i felt i should like according to the demographic i had assigned myself. i watched vh1's 'i love the 70s' with the air of someone trying to hide their amnesia, even though my parents were children in the 70s. i got into the beatles. i tried to get into cars for a while before accepting that i only liked the vintage car aesthetic and couldn't be fucked to know actual car facts. i wore nothing but cargo shorts and aloha shirts for a while, which didn't really stand out that much because it was middle school. i bought a fedora and became a libertarian atheist. i made plans to buy a motorcycle (i could not ride a bike).

i gave up on it after a while because quite frankly my titty situation meant there was never really going to be a big reveal that i'd been a girl the whole time. it was pretty obvious even with the cargo shorts. also the older of a teen i was, the more likely it felt that i could maybe get laid, except i could tell that was never going to happen as long as i kept wearing cargo shorts. it took longer to give up the fedora because it was leather and i wore it with my leather jacket and fingerless gloves, which i convinced myself worked a lot better after i'd gone full high school goth. i lived in the desert so you can imagine how well that worked out for me, smell-wise.

anyway that's how my female socialization went, i don't think it was particularly successful tbqh

[luvyeni]

❛BRUISES AND BALLET SHOES❜ ( l. jeno )

💬nia's notes: based on this drabble. is this late? absolutely but was hidden with all the other unfinished drafts.

p. badboy!jeno x goodgirl!reader w. 1.5k+

warnings? unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk , name calling.

— 𖦹 ( jeno gets into a fight and almost misses your preformance ) !

you peeked your head out the curtain — the reserved seat still empty as people began to fill up the stadium. you pouted , closing the curtains. 'where is he? he promised he'd make it'

"(name)?" your director tapped your shoulder. "you okay?" you nodded. "good , we need you ready , there are a lot of people here to see you." you smiled , shaking your head. "i'm alright." there were many people here to see you , but not the one you wanted.

"jesus you guys look like crap." renjun sat at the computer as the rest of them came limping back in. "yeah well we can't all stay behind the computer." haechan opened up the freezer , grabbing a frozen pack for his eye. "some of us have to fight."

normally jeno would've entertained them , but he looked at the clock and went into panic mode , he was gonna be so late. "shit." he hopped up , looking into the mirror. "what's your problem?" he ignored chenle , he had bigger problems — he had a black eye and multiple little cuts littered all over his face. "she's gonna kill me."

he grabbed his helmet , normally he didn't wear it , but he was going to see you and he knew you'd be upset if he didn't. "what are those?" haechan laughed , pointing to the pink glitter stickers scattered all over the helmet. 'so you'll know what one is yours.' he remembered your voice. "she put them on there , are you laughing at her?" mark jumped in before jeno beat haechan to pulp. "haechan stop it."

he really didn't have time anyway. "i'm leaving." he rushed out , he'll make it if he rushes , jumping on to his bike , putting his sparkly helmet on before speeding off.

"(name) , you have to go on now , the show is about to start." your director called , you sighed , nodding. "okay." you made your way to the side of the stage. "you can do this." you said to yourself. 'i just hope he's safe and not in any trouble.'

he made it just in time , handing the lady — who definitely thought he was in the wrong with all the bruises on his face the ticket. "thank you." he ran to the to concet hall , swinging the door open , just as the music started.

everyone gave you a standing ovation , you were incredible , so graceful. you took your final now , before making your way off the stage where everyone was waiting to give you hugs and congratulations. "thank you everyone." you said smiling.

"we're all gonna go out and celebrate." your director said , you really didn't want to , just wanting to go home and crawl into a ball. "honestly i just wa- baby." you turn around upon hearing his voice. "jeno!" you smiled , the first real one of the evening. "maybe next time , excuse me."

you ran over to him , running straight into his arms. "you made it!" he smiled as your eyes lit up. "of course i did you were amazing , you'd really think i'd miss your preformance?" you pouted. i thought you got caught up." you finally noticed his face. "you were out fighting again."

he frowned , "baby it's apart of the job." you touched his busted lip , he hissed in pain. "eh , i told you to be careful , let's get you home so i can fix you up." you grabbed his hand , guiding him to his bike. "put your helmet on." you said. "baby." he whined. "now , you don't need anymore bruises on your face."

"ow , baby that hurts." he hissed as you sat on his lap , applying the alcohol to his busted lip. "you should've thought about that when you were out fighting." you scolded. "you told me you'd calm down." he sighed. "i know princess , but you know it's not easy."

you finished him up , throwing the trash in the bed next to the bin. "renjun's girlfriend said he never comes home with bruises." jeno rolled his eyes. "that's because renjun sits behind a computer." he kissed your lips. "maybe you should do that then."

he laughed , kissing your pouty lips again. "i'll ask mark next time." you knew he wouldn't , he loves the thrill too much , but you decided not fight it. "now let me give you some love as a reward for a fantastic show." he kissed your neck , making sure to mark you up. "j-jeno , no marks , my director is gonna be pissed."

"good." he said , leaving a few more. "maybe he'll get the hint that you don't want to fuck him and that you're taken." he growled against your skin , your panties soaking , his jealousy was always a bit of a turn on.

he flipped your bodies around , hovering over yours. "you're getting jealous for nothing." he lifted the shirt you stole from him above your hips , revealing your pink panties. "such cute panties."

you whined , squirming around impatiently. "calm down." he stilled your hips. "so eager to have your little pussy stretched , i have go make sure you're ready for me." he said , pulling your panties down your leg. "look how wet you are."

he toyed with your clit , rubbing slow circles to annoy you. "j-jeno , please." you whined. "n-no teasing." he chuckled at how needy you could be. "okay baby , okay , i won't tease." he pushed a finger into your hole. "fu-fuck jeno."

he moved his finger , watching your cunt suck in his finger. "fuck princess , only one finger and you're barely taking it." you moaned. "a-another." you barley got out , he cooed. "you want another?" he added another , your juices soaking his hand. "so wet baby , you're making such a mess on my hands."

"j-jeno." you moaned out. "jeno , im gonna cum." he curled his fingers up. "fuck , im cumming!" you screamed out , he pulled his fingers out , bringing them to his lips , tasting your reminisce. "just as sweet princess."

he pulled his sweats down , his cock springing out , hitting his abdomen. "look at you drooling over my cock , you want it in your mouth?" you eagerly nodded , he chuckled. "maybe next time baby." he rubbed your folds with his hard cock. "i really need to split you open with my cock."

he slowly pushed his cock into your cunt , your hole clenching around his tip , squeezing him. "fu-fuck, no matter how many times i fuck you." he groaned. "you're always so fucking tight."

he finally bottom out , holding your legs around his waist , rocking into you. "s-so big." you moaned , jeno was on the bigger side , so it was always a tight fit when he was fucking you , but it felt good , the way he stretched your poor cunt out. "yeah , but you always take my cock like a good girl."

"f-faster." you stuttered , he listened , fucking into you faster , hitting your cervix. "j-jeno , fuck!" you screamed , he groaned , holding on to the headboard. "oh fuck , you feel so good , moaning my name like a slut." he growled.

"e-everyone thinks you're such a good girl -shit- they don't see it when you're screaming my name like a whore , letting me stretch your tiny cunt out on my cock." he moaned. "ngh fuck , gonna cum in this tight cunt." you felt it coming , your orgasm about to hit you like a ton of bricks. "gonna cum."

"you can cum princess , cum all over my cock , so i can breed you , fill you with my cum." he felt his orgasm , holding it , waiting for you to finish. "would you like that?" he grunted. "for me too breed you? make your stomach all round." you nodded dumbly. "p-please."

"fuck- then cum for me." on his comand , you came , tightening around so tight you almost pushed him out. "oh fuck , fuck im cumming." he grunted , his cum filling you up. "sh-shit jeno." you mewled. "t-too much." he kissed your lips. "you can take it , your a big girl." he whispered. "you can take it."

"fuck look at that." he slowly pulled out of , his cum leaking out. "your tummy all bulged because of my cunt." you whined. "such a good girl , taking all of me like that." he praised.

he helped you get cleaned up , he was really inattentive when it came to things like this , making sure to be softer , washing your skin with your favorite sent , putting a towel in the dryer so it can be warm for you when you get out , wrapping around you.

you laid in bad , tracing his tattoos as he play with your hair , your favorite movie playing on the tv , your laughter breaking him away from it. "what's so funny?" you shook your head. "nothing." you smiled. "it must be , you're so giggly princess , what is it?"

"it's just that , to everyone you look so scary , but in here you're like a little puppy." he whined. "stop that." you chuckled. "i already get made fun of because of those stickers you put on my helmet." he said and you pouted. "then take them off." he pulled you closer , kissing your forehead. "and why would i do that?"

"my favorite girl did that , im keeping them even when they fade."

©️LUVYENI

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 14 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, risky motorcycle ride? (idk nothing bad happens but always wear helmets, friends), some fun flirting & jokes, but mostly ANGST AND PAIN (including explicit descriptions of very intense anxiety at the very end)

words: 12.3k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 14 ► this isn't over 'til we talk in the light, said i was sober, but you knew that i lied

In the lounge area outside the changing rooms of “013” in Tilburg, Jungkook was engaged in a very intense game of table tennis against Seokjin—and winning, even though Seokjin would have disagreed—when you entered to inform the band that they were going on stage in twenty minutes.

The game wrapped up as the members began to stretch while simultaneously accosting Jimin about their in-ears. There were never any serious issues – Jimin made sure he was the Sound Technician of the Year –  but they enjoyed seeing him panic when everyone started moaning, “could you turn the backtrack up a bit?” or “I literally can’t hear myself.” This last one was Taehyung’s favourite, until Jimin started retorting with, “well, maybe you’re deaf,” and then continuing with his day.

The pre-show ritual was always chaotic, but it was endearing chaos, full of nervous laughter and sparkling eyes as the members of Rated Riot prepared for their performance.

Then, just as Jungkook left the dressing room, putting his own in-ears back in, he turned the corner and almost collided with Sid, who looked more than pleased when Jungkook took a surprised step back.

What an absolute eye-sore, Jungkook thought. As the tour went on, he began to understand your aversion to his friends better.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and it sounded like he wasn’t just asking about Sid being in this room. He was questioning Sid’s constant presence on this tour. Surely, with Jungkook no longer participating in his little games, he had to get bored and go back home.

The past few weeks have taught Jungkook that some friendships had an expiration date, and sometimes stupid bets accelerated that process. He was okay with that now—he realised that holding onto Sid would be much worse than being left alone.

“Just came to wish you luck before the show,” said Sid, who had never genuinely wished anyone luck before. “We’re here if you want to talk.”

Jungkook frowned and glanced at Minjun—who stood further away from the rest of their friends, and rolled his eyes—then he looked back at Sid.

“I’m good,” he said slowly and cautiously as if Sid was a snake that attacked when it sensed defiance.

Just when Jungkook thought he was safe and tried to walk away, Sid’s saccharine voice—the venomous kind—called out, “don’t forget we’re going out racing tonight!”

Jungkook stopped and turned to him again. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sid taunted. “This could be your chance to practise riding a rental since it seems like you’re going to lose your bike in five—”

“You really don’t have anything better to do, do you?” Jungkook interrupted. Maybe it was the pre-show adrenaline or maybe he had finally grown tired of Sid’s bullshit, but he added, “I feel sorry for you.”

Sneering because people felt many things for him – mostly contempt – but pity wasn’t one of them, Sid leaned in closer. It was a tactic that Jungkook had already grown immune to, but Sid was a creature of habit.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he hissed, not bothered by the emptiness in Jungkook’s stare. “See you later.”

“You won’t,” Jungkook asserted. “I’m not going out with you. This is all over, including the bet.”

Sid raised his eyebrows. With a very specific sense of justice that no one else in this hallway—or in this world—possessed, he declared, “I get the Katana, then.”

There was something questioning about his tone, however. As if he needed Jungkook’s confirmation that he did indeed lose this bet to Sid.

But Jungkook was firm: “You don’t.”

Sid threw his head back and scoffed with an exasperation that could have put a two-year-old to shame. “Well, then neither do you!”

“That’s fine,” Jungkook said. “Minjun can keep it.”

As Sid huffed and growled in frustration, Jungkook looked at his friend again. Minjun seemed about ready to interject—he was the one person here who did not want the bike and, in fact, wished it did not exist at all—but Sid finally found his words.

“You think Minjun can—the bike is mine,” he insisted. “I won—”

“Sid, you don’t give two shits about the fucking bike,” Jungkook cut him off, very tired of the repetitive argument. “Get over it.”

The conversation with Taehyung at Hoseok’s party weighed heavily on Jungkook’s mind. He knew he had bigger things to worry about right now—forget losing the bike. He might lose you.

In his usual dignified manner—so, not dignified at all—Sid rolled his eyes and snarled, “I agreed to bet on it, didn’t I? Obviously, I do give a shit.”

“No,” Jungkook said. “You give a shit about winning. But it’s over. We’re not doing this anymore. Deal with it.”

There was a redness on Sid’s face that hadn’t been there before. A week ago, Jungkook would have been excited to see it—it would have certainly meant a point in his favour. Now, he didn’t want to see Sid’s face at all.

“It’s not over,” Sid argued, persistent like a fly that keeps hitting the glass of a window. “There’s still five days left.”

“Five days until what?”

Four heads whipped around to see you standing at the end of the hallway, confused by the snippet of conversation that you’d overheard. You had returned to find Jungkook because the rest of the band was already pacing – or, in Hoseok’s case, doing restless sit-ups – by the side of the stage.

Jungkook, Sid, Jude, and Minjun stared at you with eyes so bright and wide that they could have guided ships off the coast.

You’ve never met four boys who looked more stunned to see you. It was as if you had accidentally stumbled into the latest concert of the Masculine Ritual, Absolutely No Femininity Allowed, God Forbid Someone Who Identifies as Female Enters The Room tour, and they could not believe this was happening.

“Uh,” Jungkook was the first to react as he immediately approached you. “I’ll tell you later. They’re just excited about, uh, London.”

You did the mental calculations while Jungkook gently squeezed your shoulder to turn you around and steer you away from his friends and towards the stage.

The London show really was more or less in five days, so you decided not to question that part. But the quick pace at which Jungkook was pulling you away from the others still unsettled you.

As you turned a corner, you looked back and saw Sid frowning at you, while Minjun—as usual lately—looked like he regretted being born, and Jude—as usual always—was picking his fingernails.

“Is Sid in one of his chaotic moods again?” you asked as you walked—nearly ran, actually, with the way Jungkook was pulling you. “Should I be concerned?”

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” he assured with a dismissive wave of his hand. “He’s just… doing Sid things. You know. Nothing to worry about as long as—well, as long as you don’t get in his way. I have everything under control.”

Your primary goal on this tour was to stay out of Sid’s way as long as he stayed out of yours. But now was not the time to discuss it, because Rated Riot had three minutes until their performance.

“Alright, then,” you said. “Leave me out of it and we’re good.”

Jungkook coughed in response and stopped once you reached the other members of the band. You thought you saw Taehyung raise his eyebrows when Jungkook took his hand off your shoulders, but maybe you were just imagining it.

You turned to the rest of the band, all of whom looked pale and fidgety and unsure.

The speakers had malfunctioned during the soundcheck earlier, so Jimin and Seokjin had to cut it short to fix the problem. Naturally, the disruption of their usual routine made the band anxious. The table tennis match between Seokjin and Jungkook—arguably the most unhinged members of the team when it came to games—had distracted everyone, but now they returned to the unpleasant arms of anxiety.

“Come on,” you said, trying to sound more energetic than you were feeling. “Stop looking like you’re going to get hanged. You’ll do fantastic out there. Go and have fun. And don’t bother coming backstage until you’re drenched and the crowd won’t stop changing your names. I mean it.”

Finally, a small smile appeared on Yoongi’s face as he rolled up one of his pant legs—for no reason other than he thought it looked cool. Honestly, it worked for him.

“Why did that last part sound like a threat?” he quipped, standing up straight.

“Because it is,” you replied. When you turned to Jungkook, he had his eyebrows furrowed as if he was still worried about something, but he started to smile as soon as he felt your gaze. You added, “I’ll be out there watching you. Kick some ass.”

You high-fived all four of them and pulled back as the boys erupted battle cries and huddled together before taking the stage.

They were still nervous, but they had you and each other, and there was a room full of people excited to see them perform. This was supposed to be just another day at the office.

Smiling, you headed back to your usual spot by the stage where Luna was chatting with a few girls at the barricade, and Maggie was snapping pictures of the audience nearby.

It occurred to you while standing there, that you were thousands of kilometres away from your house, away from everything familiar. But with Rated Riot on stage, and Luna and Maggie by your side, you felt right at home.

There was nothing you wished more than to stay like this forever.

It was an unwritten law that touring with a rock band was fun, but quickly turned very hectic. Insomnia often became an unwelcome friend—especially for the members of the band who had fashionable bags under their eyes almost every day. But when they were on stage or meeting their fans after the show, they looked alive. They looked happy.

And the more drinks they had after the concert, the more that happiness seemed to grow.

“You know what I think?” Yoongi said on the couch in the dressing room where everyone had gathered after the show. He was tipsy as he swung the green Heineken bottle around, nearly splashing you and Namjoon as you sat on either side of him. “I think next time we’re in Europe, we’ll be performing at Wembley. Stade de France. The fucking Coliseum.”

“And Camp Nou?” you teased.

Yoongi and Namjoon—both avid Barcelona fans—nodded in eager agreement.

“And not as guests at festivals, either,” Yoongi continued. “Headliners.”

You smiled. “I can see that.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s own smile widened. “When we announced our tour, Kerrang! called us ‘The Next Reconnaissance’ on their Instagram.”

You felt an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach at the mention of the other band and turned away from the two boys. You remembered the alternative culture magazine running rampant with the moniker—always “The Next Reconnaissance,” never just Rated Riot.

“I… don’t think you’re the next anything,” you said. “I think you’re you. And being Rated Riot is already amazing.”

Yoongi needed a moment to process your words. For some reason, he had expected you to agree with the nickname. Part of him wanted to be “the next Reconnaissance,” considering how much they had achieved. But you were right.

“I like that,” he said. “That’s good. Yes. We’re Rated Riot. We’ll get Wembley. And Camp Nou.”

“I second that,” Namjoon said, pointing his beer bottle at the other boy. “But, oh, we saw Reconnaissance at Rose Bowl last year, remember? Might be the best concert I’ve ever been to. I know they were in town again before we left for Europe, but I didn’t get to go. It was at a smaller venue anyway, I think. Rose Bowl, though... Stadium shows are something else.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at Namjoon over Yoongi’s head. The producer didn’t normally say this much in one breath. He was clearly getting drunk.

Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t notice anything wrong. He was likely equally as buzzed. He hummed as he threw his head back and took a large swig of his beer. Then he turned to face you.

“We’ve never opened for a band their size before,” he said. “Do you think we even could? I mean, they’re not The Rolling Stones, but they’re… well…”

He let the sentence falter because he couldn’t find a fitting word, but both you and Namjoon understood.

“Uh, well, who says you can never work with them in the future? I know their manager,” you said, trying to sound uplifting, but quickly catching yourself. You could have made your point without mentioning this. But because the two boys suddenly looked at you as if you’d just said you were Kurt Cobain in your past life, you had to explain, “he’s, uh—he’s Nick Zhou. I worked under him after university.”

“No shit?” Yoongi raised his eyebrows even higher. “Are you still in touch?”

“Not really,” you mumbled, finding yourself in a tough spot. Avoiding the subject now, when you were the one who mentioned Nick, would essentially mean lying to them. You didn’t want to do that. Awkwardly, you admitted, “although, he did, um—he called me a few days ago. Back in Oslo.”

“What?” Namjoon leaned forward to look at you over Yoongi, who stopped drinking his beer, distracted by the conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything? What did he want?”

Suddenly, you regretted finishing your beer before you joined them on the couch.

“Well, see, that’s the thing. He, uh—he wasn’t calling about the band. Or, well, he was, but it wasn’t—okay.” You closed your eyes and took a breath. This was a very long detour to get to the most important sentence. “He said he’s looking for an assistant manager.”

The two boys next to you exchanged a look.

“And… he wants you?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “But only because he needs someone quickly and he’s already worked with me before, so—”

“Well, fuck,” Yoongi concluded, cutting off your humble explanation, while Namjoon offered an equally insightful, “wow, shit.”

You nodded – both observations accurate – and quickly added, “I didn’t—I’m not going to do it, though.”

“No?” Yoongi asked. “Why not?”

The hint of surprise in his voice made you uncomfortable. It sounded like the reasonable decision would have been to accept Nick’s offer and leave Rated Riot to work with this much bigger, much more intimidating band.

“I-I guess I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant anymore,” you stammered. “I like running the ship myself.”

The guitarist’s expression softened. But before he could speak, Namjoon slapped his palm on his thigh and cheered so uncharacteristically loudly that you and Yoongi both pulled back from him in surprise.

“I know that’s fucking right!” Namjoon cried out. “Steer us all right and Rated Riot will surpass them. You’ll be calling that guy to get him to be your assistant.”

You laughed at the unexpected proposition, and Yoongi gave your knee a friendly pat.

“We won’t let you down,” he said, much more collected than the boy next to him. “You know?”

“I know.” You were smiling with all the warmth in your chest. “I believe you, that’s why I don’t want to leave. But, uh—would you mind not telling anyone else about this? I don’t want it to, you know, blow out of proportion. It wasn’t even an official offer, really, he just mentioned that there was an opening. But I just… I thought it would be unfair if I didn’t eventually tell any of you.”

Yoongi nodded knowingly. Rated Riot didn’t have a designated leader, since Namjoon—as their main producer—and Seokjin—as their stage manager—called most of the shots, but as the oldest member of the band, Yoongi was typically the one to talk to you about the heavier topics.

“It’s cool,” he said. “As long as you’re staying with us, no one else really needs to know about this, right?”

What he’d just said—paired with the way he looked at you for a few seconds longer than necessary—seemed to imply something else. Your eyes automatically drifted to Jungkook, who was talking to Seokjin and Jimin on the other side of the room.

You lowered your eyes. “Yeah.”

Yoongi finished his beer in one swift gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he looked at you again.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said.

You met his gaze. “For what?”

“For believing in us enough to stay.”

Namjoon felt himself smile as he quietly finished his beer. He knew he was tipsy, but he wasn’t drunk enough to interrupt the moment between you two.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you said. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Here, you turned to Namjoon. “Right?”

Looking at you in surprise after you addressed him, the producer scrambled to nod.

“Oh, hell yeah!” he said, leaning forward to reach Yoongi’s completely empty bottle with his own. “Here’s to Wembley next year.”

You smiled as the older boy clinked his empty bottle against Namjoon’s, then tipped his head back to get the last stubborn drops.

“Oh, by the way,” Yoongi spoke as he swallowed and immediately coughed. “D-did you find out what was going on with Jungkook and his lyrics?”

It took you a minute to recall your last conversation with Yoongi—the one that had led you to Jungkook, where he had dodged your questions and later snuck into your bunk on the tour bus and kissed you.

“Uh, well.” You tugged at the sleeve of your leather jacket. “He said that the song he played you was just a demo. He’s still working on the melody. And he said that he just has someone who reviews his lyrics for him, nothing more.”

Yoongi nodded to the rhythm of an unusually slow Asking Alexandria song that played from the speakers of the dressing room.

“So, we shouldn’t worry?” he asked, clearly hopeful.

“Apparently, no,” you said with an uneasy smile.

“Alright,” he decided. “Then let’s not worry.”

He looked at Namjoon who nodded in support of this decision.

And so, not worrying was exactly what they did. Instead, Namjoon brought three more bottles of Heineken and you all decided to just feel happy tonight.

As you scanned the room with a new bottle in your hand—while the boys finished their beer in under a minute and Namjoon got up again to bring more—it seemed to you that everyone had made the exact same decision.

Except Taehyung for some reason.

For a good minute, you watched him walk in circles in the very centre of the room. Then, just when you thought he’d stopped, he started another lap around the carpet.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you said to the two boys on the couch—they both nodded—and stood up.

A brief, unexpected fight broke out over the bottle of beer that you’d handed them—Namjoon won—and you hesitated for a moment as you realised you had a new problem and weighed it against the previous one.

The new problem was that Yoongi and Namjoon were getting very drunk. It was almost ridiculous, but probably harmless. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to be waiting to perform at four more gigs as soon as he left this room. You had to go to him first.

He had noticed the commotion by the couch, but he did not acknowledge your approach.

“Is everything okay?” You had to stop right in front of him to ask as he continued his frenzied pacing. “You’re kind of walking in circles here.”

Taehyung stopped as if in a daze and looked at you. “Hm? Ah. Lots on my mind, I guess.”

You nodded slowly. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Uh…” He looked around. The movement seemed thoughtful, but without a clear purpose—it seemed like he was just avoiding your eyes. Then you saw his gaze land on Jungkook. Taehyung looked at him for a moment, then turned back to you and scratched the back of his neck in a telltale sign of universal discomfort. He said, “honestly, maybe it’s not me that you should be talking to.”

You glanced at Jungkook, too—he was explaining something to Jimin with very wild hand gestures. He still appeared to be on a high from the concert.

“You mean Jungkook?” you asked, shifting your attention back to Taehyung. “Is he the reason why you’re pacing?”

“Sort of,” the bassist replied, blinking at the carpet.

You didn’t like the trepidation in your stomach. And you definitely didn’t like the unexpected memory of the alarm that you had seen on Jungkook’s face in your hotel room in Amsterdam.

“Why?” you asked because, despite the ominous dread that you were feeling, it was still your responsibility to know what was going on with the band.

“Just talk to him,” Taehyung advised. “But don’t tell him I said so.”

You hesitated, wanting a bit more information before you dived off this cliff headfirst. You asked, “at least tell me if something happened, so I can be prepared.”

He glanced at Jungkook again. This time, the younger member seemed to sense his gaze as he turned around. Taehyung looked away immediately.

He muttered quickly, “ask about his friends,” and then retreated to the very back of the room until he was fully concealed by Hoseok and Maggie.

A reluctant “oh,” passed your lips, but knowing that Jungkook’s friends were involved meant that there was nothing else that Taehyung could have said to you anyway.

You had to go straight to the source.

You couldn’t say this surprised you. You already got an odd feeling when you walked in on Sid and his Asshole Alliance before the concert tonight, but Jungkook had assured you that everything was fine.

However, if this was something that made Taehyung stomp around the room—which never happened unless the situation was extremely stressful, like the time Luna was getting surgery and he almost rubbed off the soles of his shoes, walking back and forth in the waiting room of the clinic—then it most certainly wasn’t fine.

Your original plan was to wait until everyone was back on the tour bus, since you’d be spending the night in Tilburg anyway. But then you remembered all the times you’d asked Jungkook if everything was okay—and all the times he said it was—and you decided that waiting would not cut it this time.

“Hey,” you said right in the middle of his conversation with Jimin. You added an apologetic, “could you excuse us, please?” but Jimin could tell as soon as he looked at you that he’d better leave.

As quickly as it was humanly possible, he nodded and jogged to join Yoongi and Namjoon by the door of the room. The two of them were loudly discussing their plan to go out and find a bar, but they paused after noticing Jimin.

You watched them for a moment, wondering if you should have stopped them from leaving when they were already so drunk, but they noticed you, waved, and left before you could open your mouth.

Sighing, you turned to Jungkook just as he asked, “what’s up?”

He didn’t appear unusual when you looked at him. But he rarely ever did.

“Are you okay?” you asked in return.

You were both tired of the question, but Jungkook disliked the sound of it particularly much this time. He’d seen you—out of the corner of his eye—take six steps in his direction right after you finished talking to Taehyung.

What if he’d told you?

“Uh, of course,” Jungkook said, looking at you with just as much confusion—and a sprinkle of suspicion—as you were looking at him with. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your heart rate increased as if you’d already heard the bad news you were expecting to hear. “How are, um—how’s Sid and everyone else?”

Jungkook disliked this question even more.

“Oh,” he said in a relaxed tone that sounded forced even to him. He cleared his throat and scanned the room for the older member, but didn’t find him. Even more nervous now, he turned to you and tried again. “You mean Sid and the others? They—they’re okay. Sid’s just being annoying, but what else is new? But I’m—we’re all okay. Thanks for, uh, for checking in.”

“Of course,” you said. You waited for him to elaborate so you could discover the reason for Taehyung’s anxiety which resulted in two more members of the band that you needed to worry about.

Honestly, Hoseok was the only one who wasn’t playing with your nerves tonight. You saw him peacefully tapping his foot to the music in the room as he chatted with Maggie and a few other staff members.

Jungkook did not pursue the topic further.

“What did you talk about with, uh—with Taehyung?” he asked instead with all the subtlety of a frightened elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Oh, this and that,” you lied. Then, feeling uncomfortable about lying, you scattered a bit of truth in there, “Luna’s face-timing her mum on the bus, so he was—he’s bored.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nodded. “Makes sense.”

He didn’t think—or didn’t want to think—that Taehyung would tell you about the bet after he asked him not to.

And, really, he tried to be reasonable. If Taehyung had told you, would you be here, peacefully asking him if he was okay?

No. You’d use fists, he presumed. Possibly knees.

“So, there’s nothing you want to tell me?” you asked suddenly, interrupting his masochistic fantasy.

Jungkook swallowed. Whatever it was that you talked about with Taehyung, it was clearly neither this, nor that.

“There is, uh, one thing,” he admitted slowly.

You inhaled. “What is it?”

“What are you plans for the rest of the night?”

This was not what you had braced yourself for. Annoyed by his stalling, you pulled your phone out of your back pocket.

“Well, depending on what you tell me, either I’m arguing with you or going to sleep,” you said. Glancing at the phone in your hand, you added, “it’s two in the morning.”

“We have tomorrow off,” he reminded you. “Well, today, I guess.”

“I know, but we’re going to Cologne—”

“That’s only in the evening.”

“Okay.” You looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear the two of you. Not that you were doing anything forbidden—just merely bordering on it. “What are you getting at?”

“You’ve finished all your work for the night, right?” he asked and you nodded apprehensively. He said, “come do something with me.”

Once again, the dilemma that plagued your mind whenever you were with him returned.

The responsible thing to do here would be to, of course, gently suggest going to sleep. There was a long day of travel ahead of you, after all.

However, this could be your chance to determine if there was truly something alarming happening between him and his friends. Not to mention, he clearly still had something to tell you, despite appearing to have lost courage after the strange moment in your hotel room.

And, alright – the truth was, you wanted to do something with him.

“That’s very vague,” you finally said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come with me,” Jungkook said, gesturing towards the door of the dressing room.

You agreed to follow him to the door but paused before leaving the room.

“I’d like more information,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest.

You tried to convince yourself that there was no logical reason for the entire room to be watching you and Jungkook right now, but you still felt phantom eyes all over yourself.

This wasn’t Hoseok’s party. You were still at the concert venue where Jungkook was the performer, and you were the manager.

He noticed your unease. First, he sighed. Then, as if he was compromising, he extended his hand.

“Take my hand,” he said. “And come with me.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant—”

“Come on,” he cut in, waving his hand in front of you. “Less talking, more holding my hand.”

Because your back obstructed the view of his outstretched hand for everyone else in the room, you knew you didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing this. Still, you let out a slow, anxious breath.

“Fine,” you said with exaggerated irritation to emphasise your displeasure about being kept in the dark. Then you took his hand.

As the two of you exited the room, there were ulterior motives firmly set in both of your minds.

You had to find out what was going on.

He had to tell you what was going on.

And Jungkook had a plan here somewhere. He knew he needed to tell you about the bet tonight, especially since you almost found out about it accidentally right before the show. And also because Taehyung looked about ready to start climbing walls.

He had a rough idea of how he’d like to tell you: it had to happen in a beautiful spot that would make up for the awful revelation he was about to make. If not make up for it, then at least make it worth your while.

And he’d done his research—as always. This was the one lesson from your relationship that he hadn’t learned as he continued to strenuously plan everything in the hopes of making it memorable and unique.

“There’s this spot. The Wandelbos,” he said as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the corridor of the venue.

He pronounced the word with relative ease, making you wonder how many times he’d heard it. Then he showed pictures on his phone.

“This looks like a forest,” you commented, stopping to scroll through several photographs of squirrels and autumn trees—which wasn’t easy because he refused to let go of your hand as you held his phone.

“It’s a baroque park,” he clarified. “It’s beautiful, supposedly.”

You handed his phone back to him. “I’m sure it is. But not at two in the morning.”

“The path is star-shaped,” he continued, ignoring your interjection as the two of you kept walking. “And there’s a clearing in the middle with a pond and a bridge and—oh, and it’s only about six kilometres away.”

He held the exit door open, allowing you to walk out into the brisk night air.

Crossing the threshold, you looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “You want to walk over there?”

Actually, he did. But your question made him pause. “Uh... no?”

You stopped and waited until he walked out into the parking lot, but his attention was suddenly drawn to something behind you.

You ignored that and said, “well, we can’t rent bicycles at this time and—”

“Sorry—hold on for one second,” he stopped you abruptly.

You turned around and followed his gaze until you spotted Minjun by the restaurant across the street. Your lips parted in involuntary surprise, but it wasn’t Minjun’s presence that really startled you. It was the fact that he was leaning against a motorcycle, of all things, and there were two more bikes parked right next to him.

When you looked back at Jungkook, he looked almost relieved.

How wonderful it was, he thought, that Sid was such an insufferable idiot that he would decide to have a drag race in the middle of the Netherlands.

From across the street, the bike Minjun had rented out appeared to be a Kawasaki. Despite Jungkook’s previous bad experiences with the brand—involving a mild concussion and a dented metal fence, which, in his defence, appeared out of nowhere—this gave him an idea immediately.

“Could we go over there? Or maybe you could wait here for a minute?” he asked you while already walking away—and pulling on your hand until you had to let go because you were absolutely not going over there. He promised, “one minute!”

You could tell right away that he’d just found a potential means of transportation.

“Jungkook, that’s probably not a good idea!” you called out as he neared the street.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, forming the shape of a heart with both of his hands as he went.

You cringed as he crossed the street without looking both ways, but fortunately, there weren’t a lot of cars around. Unfortunately, however, you couldn’t hear what he and Minjun talked about due to the distance and the heavy gusts of wind.

You waited alone, with only your confusion for company.

If Jungkook stayed with the band while his friends went out, and now he went over there to borrow some devil-sent motorcycle, then clearly, that had to mean that he finally started to make smart(er) decisions while still being on good terms with his friends.

So, what was it that worried Taehyung so much?

“Dude!” Jungkook exclaimed across the street from you when he finally reached Minjun and scared the hell out of him with his shout—he flinched so vehemently that he nearly knocked the bike over. “Whose is this?”

“Uh—mine. We rented bikes for the race,” Minjun explained and glanced at you standing by the exit of the venue. “Sid was about to call you and force you to come with us—”

“I need it,” Jungkook interrupted, choosing to ignore the fact that there wouldn’t have been enough bikes if he had come along.

Minjun turned to him with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

“I need to borrow it.”

“Borrow—it’s a rental.” Minjun turned his head to look at the neon green motorcycle. He knew that riding down the city streets with Sid and Jude on rented bikes was already reckless. Subletting the motorcycle to someone else, however, might be equally as stupid. “It’s in my name.”

“It’s the least you can do for me,” Jungkook said right away as if he had planned this in advance instead of only noticing Minjun and the motorcycle a mere two minutes ago.

His words weren’t entirely true, considering that Minjun wasn’t the one who had manipulated him into this mess. But Jungkook was appealing to his conscience—and that thing was eating Minjun alive. You could see it from across the street, even without knowing the reason for it.

Minjun bit his lip, fighting a very unpleasant battle with his own self.

“Okay. Fine,” he conceded, even though he knew very well what Sid would say about his impartiality and about the fact that he’d now have to ride as someone’s passenger—likely Jude’s, because Sid would rather cut his own head off than allow someone else on his bike, even if it was a rental. Hurriedly, Minjun added, “you have to return the bike back by midday tomorrow.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook replied brightly. “That’s more than enough time.”

“I’ll text you the address of the rental place,” Minjun continued, getting his phone out.

Jungkook kept on nodding. “That’s great. You do that.”

His friend typed a text message and pulled out the keys to the bike from his jacket pocket. He tossed them to Jungkook just as his phone vibrated.

“Don’t wreck it,” Minjun warned. “Or yourself.”

Jungkook grinned, swinging his right leg over the motorcycle and putting the key in the ignition. “I won’t. Thanks again!”

His friend glanced back at the restaurant, suddenly grateful that the take-out was taking so long to prepare. This meant that Sid and Jude wouldn’t notice Minjun giving the bike away—even though they would notice it gone and would probably realise where it went.

Meanwhile, Jungkook revved the engine and turned towards the parking lot of the venue.

The Kawasaki felt unusual underneath him and it made him miss his Katana, but he swallowed the disconcert. Beggars couldn’t be choosers—this was better than nothing in any case.

He stopped right in front of you in the parking lot, switched the engine off, and leaned back from the handlebar to give you a smile.

“So?” He patted the side of the bike. “Ready for a ride?”

You shook your head, disapproving of the cheesy grin on his face, and sunk your teeth into your tongue to resist a smile.

There were numerous—numerous—reasons why you weren’t ready to climb on this bright green monstrosity that must have been visible from any space station above. If not visible, then certainly audible.

“There’s only one helmet,” was the one concern that you chose to voice.

Jungkook hadn’t considered that as he glanced at the helmet, attached to the tail of the bike. He leaned over to unhook it and offered it to you.

“No,” you said before he started to speak. “If anything, you should be the one wearing it. You’re the driver. And the vocalist of a band that’s literally on tour right now. You can’t perform if you get your head snapped off.”

“Can’t perform if I get yours snapped off, either,” he argued. “Put it on. I’ll go slow.”

This was still a safety hazard, and at first, you debated arguing. Then you tried to rationalise.

Jungkook hadn’t had any alcohol after the show—which was very unusual, now that you thought about it. He must have been planning something all along.

Additionally, the streets were mostly empty, except for one car whose driver gaped suspiciously at the many motorcycles on the street, narrowing his eyes at each and every one of them as he drove past.

There was also Minjun across the street, looking as though he was praying that you and Jungkook would drive off quickly.

“Come on,” Jungkook encouraged. You understood his impatience—if Minjun was here, the rest of the Insolent Idiots couldn’t be far behind.

You looked back at the helmet in his hands.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten on a motorcycle with Jungkook, but it had been a while.

He had always been a huge fan of anything that could reach over a hundred in under five seconds, so he’d been riding bikes since before he was legally allowed to. However, the two of you had already broken up when he purchased and restored the Katana that he never stopped talking about—so you’d never ridden with him when he actually owned the vehicle.

It occurred to you suddenly that Jungkook had probably never mentioned his motorcycle since the tour started. You made a mental note to ask him about that later.

Now, you finally took the helmet from him and pushed it over your head. Maybe the most important justification for your decision was this: you’d missed the excited twirling of your heart when he took you for a ride.

The joy that Jungkook felt as he watched you put the helmet on surprised him.

He remembered the first time you struggled to fasten the straps under your chin and managed to graze your skin. Now, listening to you sigh as you squeezed the helmet over your head and tightened the straps without his help, he realised that you hadn’t forgotten. That you were still used to this.

Excited shivers ran across his skin as you climbed on the bike behind him. But he could sense your apprehension—your initial instinct was to hold onto the back of the bike.

“Come on, now. This isn’t your first time,” he said, looking at you over his shoulder. “You know I won’t go unless I know you’re holding on tight.”

“I assure you,” you said. Your voice was muffled by the helmet. “I’m holding on tight.”

He clicked his tongue as he turned to face forward again. “I happen to not believe you.”

“Tough.”

“We’ll be here a while, it seems.” He released the handles and leaned back. “Maybe we should see if Sid wants to join us, I’m sure he would love to—”

“My God!” you groaned. “Fine.”

You wrapped your hands around his waist but kept your touch light, almost nervous. Grinning, Jungkook reached for your hands and pulled them closer to make sure you had a strong hold.

When he squeezed the clutch, he felt you tighten your arms around him even more. Satisfied that he could feel more of your weight against his back, he finally pressed the starter and pulled the bike off.

He raced down the street—much to Minjun’s relief—at a speed that definitely would have been dangerous for someone without a helmet if there had been other cars around. But the road was empty and there were hardly any turns to make.

And as he sped down these empty streets, you had to admit to yourself that this was, simply, thrilling.

The rapid pace seemed to elevate your insides, forcing you to hold onto Jungkook more tightly as you rested your head against his back and watched the streetlights blur together. The deafening sound of the engine, the dark visor of your helmet, the intoxicating speed, the rough metal underneath your thighs, and the soft leather of the jacket that he was wearing—all of it was absolutely exhilarating.

Jungkook knew—he’d always known—that you would have enjoyed the thrill of a late-night ride far more than a simple walk down the Tilburg streets.

And he was excited to see your silly grin and dilated pupils after you took off the helmet outside of the park. He was almost flustered by your glow—and by the fact that he was the reason why you looked so happy and so overwhelmingly full of life.

He nearly forgot to lock the bike as he looked at you.

But then the sudden memory of why he’d brought you here caught up to him like a painful crash.

“Uh, so,” he turned away, “should we go explore?”

“Might as well,” you joked weakly. Your legs were still a little shaky from the ride. “Since we’re already here anyway.”

“Right. Well, I wouldn’t mind taking another drive,” he said with a more confident smirk—that only grew in size and arrogance when he saw you smile at the suggestion. Then, he looked down and added, “but I also wouldn’t mind just walking and… talking.”

The two of you had done a lot of that—just walking and talking—since the tour started, so agreeing to this felt natural and harmless.

The park was beautiful indeed, just as the pictures on Jungkook’s phone had promised. Granted, walking through it at night when the streetlights were so sparse, provided a layer of eerie uncertainty—but even now, you were mesmerised.

In addition to the bold squirrels, peeking at you through the tree branches—their fur barely noticeable among the dark foliage, but their little beady eyes glistening—you could also see the sky above. You could see all of it, it seemed. And the patterns of the stars were so bright that you found yourself stopping several times, utterly captivated by them.

You regretted not learning the names of constellations—or how to differentiate them—but looking at the night sky was a breathtaking experience regardless.

The sky looked different here. And it felt closer, too. It was something you didn’t believe you could ever get used to, no matter how much you stayed here.

After a short while, you and Jungkook arrived at a pond, and he informed you that this was the very centre of the park.

It reminded you of home in an odd way, even though there weren’t many ponds back home—and none of them looked quite as charming as this one. Yet there was something familiar here, something homely. Even at night, in a park that resembled a forest more than a cosy picnic spot, there was something heartwarming here.

You could have been feeling this way, you supposed, because Jungkook was holding your hand as he guided you down a narrow plank over a dark creek. Without him, the eeriness of spending the night in an old park alone would have been much more noticeable. But with him here, it just felt comfortable. As if you both knew that you were destined to be safe from all harm here.

The stream ran deeper into the forest, and there were several benches scattered in the clearing on either side of the creek. The two of you sat down on one of them and listened to the silence of the trees and the gentle flow of the water.

Remembering suddenly, you spoke up—quietly, mindful not to disrupt the peace of all living things around you. “Did you know that my parents actually had their first date by a creek?”

Jungkook turned to you. He was more comfortable being loud, because he didn’t feel like a guest here. With you there, he sort of felt like the night—and everything that it touched—belonged to him.

“That’s a… very specific location,” he commented.

“Yeah.” You snickered. “There were no creeks in our town, dad took mum to the city where he grew up.”

“Oh, that’s actually nice,” he said, a little surprised. He’d never met your dad, but he knew that ‘nice’ wasn’t the adjective that was usually used in the same sentence as his name. “Was the creek special to him?”

“Not really,” you replied, shattering the romantic image that had already formed in his head. “It was the only pretty place that he could think of at the time. At least that’s what my mum thought.”

Careful, because this was a delicate topic and he didn’t want to come off like he was defending your dad, Jungkook asked, “she never found out if there was, maybe, more to it?”

“She never asked,” you said. “Either way, that date didn’t exactly end well. In the long-term, I mean.”

Jungkook looked down at the dark ground beneath his boots. A few blades of grass poked through the dirt on the shore of the creek.

“I know what you mean,” he said slowly. “But can you really say that with such certainty? She has two kids. And you’re both pretty great.”

You smiled at this, and it gave him the courage to smile, too.

“Thanks,” you said. “And yeah. I guess you’re right. Some good did come out of it.”

The two of you were quiet for a minute. It was a comfortable minute, too, but only as long as you managed to keep your mind empty.

You succeeded—the memories of the stories that your mum had told you were slowly fading, overtaken by the calming whispers of the trees around you—but he didn’t.

“I never asked—and I don’t want to intrude now, but, uh,” Jungkook started, “from what you’ve told me before, I assumed that your parents got back together at some point, right?”

You nodded with an exhale from somewhere deeper than just your chest.

“Several points, actually,” you said.

Happy that you seemed willing to share this, he encouraged, “yeah?”

“Yeah. She kept taking him back when I was young, and my brother was—well, a baby, essentially,” you said. “Everyone told her not to do it, not even for the kids. They told her to move on, maybe find someone better. My uncle—mum’s brother—protested against this especially much. He had been against their marriage from the very beginning. But my mum loved the guy.”

The smile on your face when you said that last part made Jungkook tense—it contradicted so much with the sadness in your eyes.

“Did he love her back?” he asked.

You were about to respond with a reflexive answer that had been ingrained in you by years and years of your mother screaming about how your father was a good-for-nothing loser, how he could never love anyone other than himself, and plenty of other colourful descriptions that you probably shouldn’t have known at your age at the time. And yet, despite the intensity of her emotions after every break-up, she still took him back. Until one day she didn’t.

And now you had to pause.

“That’s probably a million-dollar question,” you said with a sad chuckle. “I don’t know. Is that awful of me to say? She doesn’t think he did, but she still got back together with him so many times. So maybe he did love her in his own fucked up way. But I-I don’t think someone who loves you is supposed to hurt you like that.”

Jungkook had leaned back as he listened to you and he nearly toppled over backwards at your words.

You were right, of course.

Someone who loved you should have never hurt you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “That’s, uh—that’s not awful. That’s sad, I think. Your mum deserves better.”

“She does,” you agreed. “But I understand now that—well, in a way, she is who she is because of all that happened to her. She’s very strong and she cares so much. And the fact that her only flaw is loving people too much, it’s—I don’t know. Lately, that just makes me admire her more. Because she sees the best in people. No one does that these days, everyone’s always afraid to get hurt. But my mum, she’s like—she’s fearless. You know? I genuinely respect that.”

“Even if she really does end up getting hurt?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah. Even then. And maybe that’s the thing,” you said, looking up at the sky again. “I mean, in general. The people we love are the only ones who can hurt us like that. Or, rather, it’s precisely because we love them that it hurts so much.”

“Hmm.”

He wasn’t sure if you were still talking about your parents by the time you reached the last few sentences, but he was too afraid to ask. He couldn’t even look at you as he stayed frozen in the same spot.

“I’m probably not making much sense,” you added with a small, uncertain laugh. “I just meant that it took me a while to understand my mum. Actually, I don’t know if I even fully understand her to this day, but um… I watched her give second chances to people who held the most against her and could hurt her the most. I thought they didn’t deserve it. But she... She knew the risk, she was familiar with heartbreak, and still, she stayed hopeful. For a long time, I resented that. I thought that was a—a weakness. It sounds cruel. But I thought I could never do that.”

You paused again. The memories—of more than just your parents—flashed in your mind a little too quickly for you to collect your thoughts. You looked down to compose yourself and felt Jungkook’s hesitant glance.

Finally, you finished, “all these years of watching the back-and-forth between my parents… It made me think that I could never give someone a second chance.”

Digging into the dirt with the heel of his boot, Jungkook asked, “you, uh… you don’t think so anymore?”

He glanced at you once more and then looked away again, even though you weren’t looking at him. Your gaze was fixed on the creek in front of you.

“I don’t know,” you said after a moment. “I think I’m less decided about it now. I admire my mum for having the courage for it, even though it rarely ever works out. And now I guess I think that it is more of a case-by-case kind of thing. It depends on the person.”

Feeling as if his chest had absorbed the water from the pond and everything inside of him was being flooded, Jungkook didn’t dare to inhale.

Breathlessly, he asked, “what about me?”

“You?” you echoed awkwardly. He gave the smallest of nods in response.

You realised quickly that you hadn’t said this to him in over four years, and it felt terrifying to admit it now with the solemn trees, a hurried creek, and curious squirrels for an audience.

“Well, fuck.” You swallowed. “I mean, I love you. You know?” You chuckled to hide your unease and leaned down to touch the blades of grass growing under the bench. “Too much for my own good, probably.”

Jungkook suddenly forgot how to breathe. He looked up instead, but only caught a glimpse of the stars in the sky before he closed his eyes. The view behind his eyelids felt more special to him than the shimmering sky above—it was all darkness and dim echoes of you saying you loved him.

He couldn’t tell you now. How could he? You loved him.

And a second chance with you was all he’d ever wanted.

When he opened his eyes again, you were watching him. There was a haziness in your eyes—from the starry night, from the motorcycle drive, from the long overdue confession—and a small smile on your lips.

The moment that his eyes drifted to your lips, he felt himself inhale—more than once and he would have floated away—before he leaned in, responding to everything you’d said with a kiss.

He’d tell you about the bet, he would—but not now. Not when he felt your breath hitch as his lips touched yours. Not when you kissed him back, replacing all air in his lungs with your taste.

Right now, neither of you needed to say any other word as the forest around you settled. The leaves were frozen as if the wind didn’t dare to rustle them for fear of interrupting you.

The thought made you smile into the kiss—what a self-centred way to interpret your surroundings—and Jungkook pulled you closer.

For a minute, he made it feel like the world really did stop turning for the two of you. Like the forces of the universe had interfered to—

He pulled away all of a sudden, breathing so heavily that he was nearly hyperventilating.

He couldn’t do this. He’d already done too much.

The time that he’d borrowed—that he’d stolen—to be with you in peace had run out. Not even the universe could give it back to him.

“I’m sorry. There’s just, um,” he began, looking down and bringing a hesitant finger over his lower lip. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You felt your heart skip over a beat.

Immediately, you found yourself returning to the hotel room in Amsterdam. It felt vastly different now and the difference sobered you up—you had been in your hotel room then, but you were alone in an empty park tonight. And you realised that discussing it here would be a mistake.

Whatever he was about to tell you might make it difficult for you to stay here and you would have no way to leave.

“Wait,” you said. The word caught him off guard. “Tell me when we get back.”

He blinked. The very reason why he’d brought you here was to tell you the truth in a place that was yours for the night.

“W-why?” he asked.

“It’s not fair to me otherwise,” you said. Your heart had shifted from pleasant pounding to near-panicked banging, and you were starting to feel nauseous. “I’d be very inconvenienced if I was left here alone.”

Jungkook appeared even more perplexed. “Why would you be—I’m not leaving. I’m staying with you.”

“That’s assuming I don’t kill you after you tell me what you’re about to tell me,” you tried to joke. There was a small—almost desperate—smirk on the corner of your lips.

Jungkook looked away.

“Oh.” Nervously, he licked his lips. He hadn’t considered you being so uncomfortable after he told you that you wouldn’t want him around. And now that he thought about it, he felt a little dizzy. “Well, that’s, uh… that’s fair enough. Should we—do you want to go back?”

The dread in your stomach seemed to grow at this question.

You knew that you had to be aware of what was happening with him, but the ceremony of it—the trip to this beautiful spot and the kiss that unintentionally coaxed him into the truth—scared you.

You wanted to resist the rational parts of your mind and stay here, where you had just forbidden him from speaking about this.

“Not really,” you admitted.

Jungkook nodded, relieved by your honesty. “Me neither.”

So, you stayed still for another minute. Then another minute. And another one. Until all the additional time you’d given yourselves had run out, too.

You peeked at Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, afraid suddenly that he would look back at you and then you’d have to talk, after all.

He seemed very far away. Much further than that first night in Amsterdam, when he came to your hotel room to talk.

Now there were sirens blaring in his head and a relentless pounding in his chest. You could almost hear it when you looked at him.

At last, you said, “but we can’t stay here forever.”

Despite looking like he had drifted into another realm deep inside of his mind, Jungkook sighed. He’d been listening to you breathe, listening to the way the wind played with your hair. He was here.

But he really wished he wasn’t.

“I know,” he said.

Still, the two of you remained on the bench for another five minutes, surrounded by the quiet rustling of the weary trees. Even they seemed anxious for you.

This might be the last silence the two of you would share, Jungkook thought grimly.

He felt terrified.

Finally, he took a breath and turned to you. “Let’s—”

A faint buzzing from the back pocket of your jeans startled you both. The sound seemed so foreign here, like something that had travelled across time and space, and accidentally ended up here—in your universe, where it didn’t belong.

You pulled out your phone and saw, first of all, that it was four in the morning, and then that Namjoon was calling you.

“I should take this,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the tension that had left your hands very cold.

“Go ahead,” Jungkook mumbled.

This was fine, he tried to tell himself while you stepped away from him to answer the call. He would take you back to the truck stop where the tour buses should have been parked by now. And then he would tell you.

And whatever happened next would—

“So, that was Namjoon,” you said, returning to him with your phone in hand. The call had lasted for less than a minute. “Apparently, someone stole Yoongi’s laptop.”

Nearly thrown off balance at the news that sounded somehow disrespectful, considering the many things you already had to process, Jungkook frowned.

“Someone stole Yoongi’s laptop?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” you said, sliding the phone back into your pocket. You knew something like this would eventually happen. “Namjoon said that he and Yoongi went out for more drinks, and when they got back to the bus, the laptop was gone. They’re not sure when was the last time they saw it.”

Jungkook stood up from the bench. “Well, why do they think someone stole it? Maybe he just lost it.”

“Yoongi’s not the kind who loses things,” you pointed out.

“Well, Namjoon could have lent a hand with that.”

You shook your head to conceal your small, involuntary smile and shrugged, acknowledging that there was a chance that this really was a false alarm. Especially if Namjoon was involved. You all loved him very much, but he had a talent like no one else to consistently misplace his own—and others—belongings.

“They were already quite drunk when I talked to them backstage before leaving,” you said. “So it’s possible they got even more wasted and just lost track of it. Either way, I need to go back and find out what happened.”

You returned to being the band’s manager, and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to handle the sudden switch. He wasn’t sure how to handle anything that was happening. This whole park was spinning around him.

He felt a little bit like the creek behind him as he watched you—flowing somewhere on pure instinct, with no clear destination in sight.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said. Hesitantly, he extended his hand for you to take—to help you over the loose wooden plank again. And to ground himself with your touch. “Let’s go, then. We’ll talk later?”

You took his hand. “Yeah. We’ll talk later.”

The truth was, you did not want to talk later.

You had a terrible feeling about it, and however irresponsible it may have been, you wanted to delay it as much as possible.

When you and Jungkook returned to the truck stop, Yoongi and Namjoon had already figured out where the laptop was. They looked very pleased to have remembered the Locate My Device app, never mind that you were the one who had kindly reminded them about it over the phone.

The laptop was, as it turned out, at a McDonald’s across the city. Neither boy could recall ever going there, so they remained convinced the device had been stolen.

You listened to their hypothesis with a serious face. But, unlike them, you were sober—the few beers you’d had after the concert were long forgotten—and you knew that the “thief” would probably be smart enough not to stop for a McFlurry after stealing someone’s computer.

The logical explanation was that your usually lovable and dependable boys had gotten so drunk that they’d forgotten about the fast food trip and left the laptop there themselves.

Regardless, you had to investigate. Because Yoongi and Namjoon were both pale with terror—and still buzzing from the spontaneous beer-tasting adventure that they’d gone on—it was up to you to find the computer.

You didn’t mind. This was your job, anyway. And you were eager to do something that did not involve talking about whatever it was that Jungkook wanted to talk to you about.

Jungkook, on the other hand, did mind. And it was evident when you exited the bus and saw him standing by the doors, pouting.

“I have to pick up the laptop,” you said, “and maybe report it to the police if it was really stolen.”

“Should I come with you?” he offered, not meaning to give you the option to refuse—which you took, of course.

“No,” you said, “you need to rest.”

“And you don’t?” he countered. “You’re the one who’s so overworked that—”

“Don’t start with that again,” you said, raising a stern hand to cut him off before someone overheard. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes and the expression on your face softened a little.

You hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but you’ve had an impossibly long day.

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “This is my job. I have things to do. Laptops to save.”

“If I come, then—”

“Stay here,” you interrupted. “You had a show tonight. Now you have to get some sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

Biting his lip as mixed feelings of guilt and regret bubbled in his stomach, he asked, “we’ll, uh—we’ll talk, though. Right?”

“We’ll talk,” you promised. “Tomorrow.”

He fought with himself for another moment and then ended up saying, “okay. You never take me with you anyway.”

You didn’t have time to argue, so you kissed him before you went—quickly, softly, and with a nervous smile as you pulled away—and his heart seemed to leave with you as empty echoes of his racing pulse reverberated through his chest.

Tomorrow was very far away.

That would have been good if Jungkook still felt the paralysing panic from a few days ago. But even though he still felt scared now, he had already braced himself for the emotional consequences of telling you about the bet. Delaying it—against his will, this time—felt excruciating.

He knew he was the one to blame – he kissed you in the park instead of telling you about it right away, and then he agreed to wait until tomorrow.

And maybe this was what he deserved. He should have told you. But he hesitated and tried to convince himself of all sorts of irrational thoughts—and now here he was.

Alone.

And he was so frightened of being alone that he climbed right back on the motorcycle and headed to the address of the rental shop that Minjun had given him. He needed to do something, because he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t scream at the top of his lungs, either.

Easily enough, Jungkook found himself in the bar of a hotel across the street from the rental shop. The shop didn’t open until eight, so he had a little over two hours before he could return the bike. A little over two hours before the night ended and he had to figure out what to do next.

He finished his first glass before a single thought could occur to him. By the second one, he felt his body start to relax, but chaos continued to reign in his mind.

What will I do, what will I do, what will I do?

As Jungkook lost track of how many drinks he had, he pondered every which way to reveal this to you and all the questions that you might ask.

What was the trip to Paris for? And the persistent way he followed you around? The conversation on the bridge in Stockholm? On the rooftop in Oslo? The bicycles in Amsterdam? The nights in your hotel room?

None of that was truly for the bet. But would it matter?

You said you loved him tonight. But you’d hate him tomorrow.

Maybe he could wait for five days until he formally lost the bet. Maybe he should tell you then. Maybe the fact that he lost something important to him would make up for—no.

Jungkook shook his head, nearly spilling the bourbon in his glass. He paused then, not even sure if he was still drinking bourbon. It all just tasted wet to him at that point.

Regardless, he couldn’t tell you after losing the bike. Even losing it didn’t seem like such a tragedy right now, compared to losing you.

While he agonised over it, the bartender continued bringing him drinks—always on the rocks, even though he couldn’t feel the cold anymore. The bartender was a kind elderly man, who probably should have known better than to keep serving alcohol to someone at six in the morning, but his experience told him that Jungkook was someone who needed it tonight.

Soon, however, Jungkook’s pride—his high tolerance for alcohol—became his biggest foe. He didn’t even realise how intoxicated he had become.

For all intents and purposes, he believed he was still fairly sober, considering how easily he spilt everything that was bothering him to the bartender. He even understood the advice he received in return—not that there was much to it.

“You have to tell her, son.”

He did have to tell you. He knew that.

And he was going to, he decided. Right now.

Jungkook found his way out of the bar with relative ease. Sure, he forgot that he had driven Minjun’s bike there, but he was able to walk without stumbling much, and that surely had to be an achievement.

Swaying only slightly, he stopped in the lot where the bus was parked and found your contact in his phone. Of course, the many emojis he’d used ensured that your name was the first one on the list, but he still found it easily enough.

Now, he had to admit this: he wasn’t sure if you actually answered his call. But he asked you to please, come outside, and within three minutes, you were standing in front of him.

If he had been aware of how drunk he was, he would have realised that he was screaming, so it didn’t matter if you’d picked up his call or not. You would have heard him anyway.

“What’s going on?” you asked, too confused to feel worried. You’d just returned with Yoongi’s laptop about half an hour ago. You weren’t sure if you’d even fallen asleep before coming outside again. “Are you drunk?”

There was exhaustion in your posture that Jungkook was too drunk to identify. You were very tired of dealing with the problems of drunk people tonight.

When Jungkook spoke, words poured out before he could properly think them through.

“Listen,” he said. His tongue felt oversized in his mouth. “I have to tell you something. I can’t—I should’ve told you this a long time ago. Maybe on the same day. Actually,” he hiccupped, “I never should’ve done this at all, then there would be nothing to tell.”

He hesitated for a moment, because in his mind—which was positively swimming in whiskey—he worried that his words may have caused a misunderstanding. He saw the frown on your face and cut in before you started to speak.

“Actually, no,” he said. “There would be things to tell. Because I like—I really—I like to talk to you. I want to tell you all kinds of things...” he paused here. Shook his head. “But not this. I don’t want to tell you this. But I must.”

He thought he came off very determined here, very confident. Really, he just sounded tired and drunk.

“Jungkook,” you said. “When I said we’ll talk tomorrow, I meant in the morning.”

“It’s—” He hiccupped again. “It’s morning.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course.

“After we got some sleep,” you clarified.

“Well, I can’t wait that long,” he insisted, stomping his foot and throwing himself off-balance. He had to lean against the side of the bus to stay upright.

You could tell that whatever he wanted to tell you was far worse than you expected. He was so drunk that he could barely stand, yet he was as determined as ever to get it all out right now.

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. The anxiety that you’d evaded was quick to resurface, and even you felt a little unsteady on your feet.

“Okay,” you said. “Well, what is it?”

Jungkook straightened as much as he could.

A deep inhale, followed by a sharp, rushed exhale.

“I made a bet with Sid that I’d get back together with you.”

Silence came next.

You felt a sinking sensation deep within you as if something—an invisible current—was pulling you under the surface of the water. The ground beneath you swirled in uncertain whirlpools.

“Sid said I couldn’t do it,” Jungkook continued after a moment, his eyes cast low. “And I was—I wanted to prove him wrong. He is wrong. He’s always wrong, he’s such a—anyday. I mean, anyway. T-that’s not—I didn’t—this isn’t making any sense.” He slapped himself on the forehead in newfound frustration and you flinched at the abrupt motion. The slap only made the truck stop start to spin around him. Pressing his hands to his hips, he tried to explain, “I didn’t win or anything. Which you obviously know, since we aren’t back together.”

He laughed sadly here. You narrowed your eyes and felt one of them twitch.

The night was cold, and you clutched your arms tighter around yourself. Your posture was not aggressive—you gazed somewhere past him and you appeared frightened. You looked as if the wind might snatch you and carry you off to a place that he could not reach.

But then your eyes met his and there was a frigid emptiness there that he didn’t recognise. He shrunk into himself when he noticed it.

“I-I bet my bike, so I lost that,” he continued. “Well, not yet, but I’m going to lose it soon. Not on purpose, but Sid won’t fucking let me end the bet—” he cut himself off by inhaling again.

It seemed like there was so much oxygen in his lungs—he kept breathing in as he spoke, but never breathing out.

“That’s not the point,” he finished his thought. “What I wanted to do—to say, I mean—is that I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. It was stupid. Sid got in my head.”

“Sid,” you repeated suddenly. The sharp sound of your voice startled him into looking up. “Got in your head.”

He looked at you for half a heartbeat. Somewhere in the whiskey haze, he could recall his conversation with Taehyung—or someone who resembled Taehyung. Jungkook remembered something about this being his own responsibility.

But then, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who Taehyung even was. Because, to be honest, he wasn’t sure if he remembered who he was.

“That’s an—that’s… that’s an excuse,” he managed to say. The letter S tasted wrong in his mouth. He clicked his tongue and continued, “he’s always in my head. I should’ve known better. I—I’m so sorry.”

You were breathing heavily, but you weren’t speaking.

He blinked his heavy eyes, each one of his eyelashes like lead.

“I just… I want you to know that everything that happened—it wasn’t because of the bet,” he said, swallowing after a great struggle. All these drinks tonight, and his throat still felt dry. “It was because I am—I really have been in love with you the whole time, and I—but I couldn’t—I can’t ask you to get back together while there’s this bet going on. Not that you’d agree—I just hope that you would—but I... i-it wouldn’t feel fair. It’s so—it’s all so fucking stupid.”

He groaned again and covered his face with his hands for a moment while he tried to collect his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to tell you and all of it was coming out so quickly that he wasn’t sure he told you anything at all.

“I had to—I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. Then, biting his lip harder than he’d meant to—the metal piercing dug into it painfully—he added, more softly, “I’m really sorry.”

You remained firm in your position and really started to resemble a statue. Contrary to what he expected, you didn’t ask him a single question. You just stared at him without any distinct emotion in your eyes.

He didn’t know what to do.

“Aren’t you,” he said shakily, “going to say anything?”

You finally moved—to inhale, then exhale. All through it, your chin was turned up as you looked at the line of trees in the distance.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” you finally said.

It was a sharp knife to his chest, this hollow voice that was supposed to belong to you.

He hung his head and took a deep breath.

None of this mattered.

It was over.

“You’re drunk,” you added then. “Go to sleep.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in your words and he grasped at this flimsy straw and held onto it with all his might.

“Y-you heard me, though, right?” he tried, his voice desperate, eyes watery. “None of it was for the bet, I really—”

“Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

He couldn’t go to sleep, not if it meant he’d have no one to wake up to.

“Can I—” He coughed, the words catching on the sandpaper in his throat. “Can I talk to you in the morning?”

You stayed silent for a long, almost never-ending minute. Jungkook counted each second in his head, and he knew he might have messed up the numbers at least three times, but it still felt like you’d never speak again.

“I don’t think,” you finally said, “we have anything left to talk about.”

You turned around, but stopped for less than a moment, seemingly hesitating when you heard him call your name. Then you took another step and opened the door of the bus, climbing inside and leaving him here alone.

This wasn’t the first time you walked away from him, but this time, he knew it was his fault.

And there was another element to the suffocating grip around his neck—ever since you began to manage Rated Riot, you’d never left him alone when he was drunk.

But you left him tonight.

And even drunk, he knew what it meant.

He thought he’d prepared himself for this. But the sight of your back as you walked away from him, the sound of the bus door as it clicked shut behind you, and the feeling of complete silence around him at the truck stop—it all finally knocked all the oxygen out of his lungs. It made his heart beat faster, ridding his bloodstream of alcohol until all that he felt was pain.

He was not prepared for this. He doubted he ever could have prepared for it.

But he should have known this would happen.

He really fucked up. He ruined everything. It was over.

Hunching over as he tried to inhale but couldn’t, Jungkook pressed his hand to his chest. He felt something pulsating under his fingers, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Someone had emptied out the cavity inside of him where his organs had once been and filled it with rocks.

His vision was white and blurred. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

He felt himself slide over the side of the bus until he hit the floor and smacked his head into the bus wall as violent tremors took over his body. He tried to breathe as he counted the beats of his heart until he couldn’t listen to his pulse whispering the same conclusion to him over and over again.

It was over.

It was over.

It was over.

It was—

His hand dug into the gravel on the ground, then grabbed the front of his shirt and held it in a tight fist. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Nothing worked to stop the relentless judgment from breaching his resistant mind.

He ruined everything. It was over.

Jungkook didn’t know how long he struggled to fill his lungs with something other than the heavy, opaque pain of losing you again.

He didn’t know why he struggled, nothing even mattered anymore.

When he eventually realised that he was still here and you still weren’t, there was an early morning redness in his eyes and on the edges of the sky above him.

Most unusually, the only clear thought in his head was about the bike that he’d told Minjun he would return. Another promise that he had failed to keep as he suddenly remembered abandoning the motorcycle by the bar.

Then he remembered the bar.

He had already drunk half of it.

He struggled to his feet, rubbed his eyes with the balls of his palms, and went back to finish the other half.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “what do you want from me?”

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (II)

AU MASTERLIST || PART III

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, smut, NSFW, sex & intimacy, praise kink, brief thoughts of exhibitionism, p-in-v, fingering, hand job, some sub/dom dynamics, sub!Simon for a bit, soft!Simon, property damage, bike crashes (wear helmets everyone), violence, past toxic relationship, sabotage, attempted murder, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your fingers tighten around Simon’s waist, the helmet you’d been given pressed into his shoulder as the both of you slice through wind—an engine roaring below you from the Honda Rebel 500. The fit was a tight one, Simon not having a proper second seat beside the passenger kit he’d been quick to install not a few hours before when you’d hesitantly asked for a ride into a neighboring town. Your body was directly above the back tire, and Simon had been firm in his words when he’d been adjusting the back suspension in the bustling shop.

“You’re not lettin’ go until we get there, copy? I feel your grip loosen, I’m pulling over.”

You had begrudgingly agreed, needing the high-quality art supplies a twenty-minute drive away. The stores here didn’t have what you needed, and, not owning a car as this town was entirely walkable if need be, this was your only option. 

Once you’d gotten on that bike though, Simon hadn’t needed to reiterate himself about holding on—you did that all on your own. Yet, that wasn’t to say you weren’t enjoying this.

Lips peeled back into a smile, your eyes stare out across the unfolding hills and mountains in the distance; fields of verdant grasses and trees. The vibrations of the Rebel left your head jittering, but this view was the clearest you’d ever seen. 

Chuckling, the driver under your rib-cranking hold blinked at the nearly missed sound, only able to tell from the movement of your chest at his spine. Simon’s sunglasses glinted over the thin sliver of flesh that would otherwise be the only piece of his face visible, and his fingers twitched as he stared ahead at the open road. The man had given you his leather jacket, taking a spare of black coloring like an all-dark cat, his boots and pants matching the theme that carries over. 

You shout above the whipping of the airways. 

“This is amazing!” Simon puffs a laugh at that, though his heart patters ever faster like a dog at the turn of a key. He doesn’t answer, even if his lips itch into a smirk to tell you he’s appreciating the spinal re-adjustment you’re giving him. 

Your laugh echoes out through the scenery, and your heart has never been more full. 

It had been a decent amount of time since Simon and the others had come into town—three weeks since you’d been hired on your off days to go and paint the mechanic’s shop. A base coat had already been applied, then the secondary and the final with the help of a very animated Soap saying that no one could get to the tops of the walls better. Gaz had seen him hit himself with the soggy paint roller not five minutes later after trying to flip it, and that had been the end of the interference on your work.

All that was left was to start the mural.

There hadn’t been a peep from Graham or his goons—they’d even left you alone on your walks back home. As much as you wanted to be elated about it, there was a brief stint of paranoia in the days that had followed the party. Graham Whitaker was a coward, but he didn’t…let things go. 

But holding onto Simon Riley as he pulled into the nearby town made that sharpness at the back of your mind flee in an instant. The mountains and fields dissipate to tiny houses and long stretches of connected businesses—sun-washed bricks surround you as Simon shifts the tires to dodge potholes. 

His head moves slightly to the side, and you hear the call through your borrowed helmet. 

“Where am I headed?”

“East side!” You rest the bottom of the helmet on his shoulder, seeing a sliver of his October browns through his sunglasses as he rips his eyes back to the road. “Look for the rose bushes!” 

“Makin’ me go deaf,” Simon mutters to himself, but he does as you instruct. Parking in the street outside of the art shop, he moves out the kickstand with one foot—the other resting on the ground so you don’t tip. He gives you a look over his shoulder to get off first as the engine cuts and the jungle of keys comes to silence inside of his pocket.

Giggling, you let go of his hard waist and step out to the concrete of the sidewalk, turning around and fixing the strap of your carry bag with a hidden grin. 

“I think I just found a new form of transportation.”

“Then you can forget about it,” Simon smirks, taking off his sunglasses and sticking them to the neck of his compression shirt. “Helmet, Sunshine.” He reminds, looking around for a moment. 

You slap your hands to the side of the item around your head as you continue to giggle like a child, elated and feeling the throws of wanderlust—you’d never felt so alive than when watching the world pass by at your sides. How quickly you can form a routine of boring days, one after the other. You felt…light again. 

A finger grabs at the visor, flicking it up as your crinkled eyes come into view for the gruff man and his raised brow. 

“You drunk?” Simon stares, tilting his head as he looms closer, studying you up and down. 

“No, Brown-Eyes,” you roll your eyes teasingly, waving his hand away as you unclip and pop the helmet off before it’s leveled back to him. He takes it and holds it loosely in one grip, blinking at you slowly. “I’m excited. Can I not be excited, then, huh? Not happy seeing me enjoy your company?” 

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” Simon shakes his head but his amusement is heard, slipping past as you eagerly follow after, expression airy. 

You hum, leaning into him and smirking. 

“C’mon Simon, you’re completely taken with me—I can see it.” There was no question that the two of you had become close. There was rarely a night when he didn’t come to visit you at the bar; had even taken up walking you back home too, though there was little need to. Simon had said it was because he had nothing else to do, but you doubted it. Since the shop had opened, there had been no shortage of work.

The man grunts as he opens the door for you with a shoulder, sending you a blank eye. “Taken aback.”

“Fucking jerk,” you grin at him as you slip inside, face loose with banter. Simon chuckles lowly and follows, standing behind you as his boots clop to polished tile floors. 

This place was exactly how you remembered it—holding an old feel with the beams in the ceiling and the raw brick walls. There are tables with paints and brushes, all neat and orderly with unique looks and designs to them, even the wall has shelves of old wood holding hidden nicknacks and unique wonders. 

Simon gazes around with a glint of interest in his eye, understanding now that the painting was better off in your hands. He has to wonder how you managed to find a place like this. 

“Over here,” you say. Walking to the very back, your hands are already reaching for the quality brushes you’d need for the mural. Simon’s hands slip into his pockets, stance casual in a way he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago. 

It was no secret that Simon trusted very few people. It wasn’t just because of his past military experience, it was his life in general—each turn led to something that could go wrong like a gun in the hands of a criminal. But you had been nearly sly in the way you’d grown on him. 

The quick-witted comments, the way you spoke and carried yourself; your light and unapologetic attitude. He was ashamed to admit how many times he’d stared at the bar from his shop’s garage—under the body of some car with grease up to his elbows, legs dangling as his back was on top of the creeper. Brown eyes that can pinpoint your form before his mind blanks and sweat pools at his collarbone. 

It was something that Simon was afraid to name.

“Bloody expensive,” the man mutters in the present, fingers pushing at the price tag of some paints nearby. “You sure you need this shit?” 

“It’s not shit, Riley,” you scoff, grabbing two large brushes and three smaller ones from wall buckets, pointing one at him. “But I have to agree on the expensive part. You should see how much I would spend when I was really into art. You’d puke your blackened guts up.”

Simon hums, giving you his attention as you peer at a table of rich paints in smaller cans a few feet away.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks, the soft tinkling of piano music coming from somewhere in the back. 

You pause, your back turned to him as you look at the label of a small aluminum container of enamel paint for vehicle detailing. Licking your lips, you clear your throat and ease out a nonchalant, “Graham,” and end the conversation there with less blood spilled. 

Your Ex had almost sucked all of the individuality from you—you’d barely made it out as you are. 

Simon’s eyes darken, clenching his jaw after a moment as looks away. It's only when you put back down the enamel paint can that he speaks again. 

“He wasn’t worth your time,” he eases out, giving firm advice like orders. As if he wants you to believe what he’s saying to the fullest degree. “You know that?”

You snort, turning back around. “Yeah, I know it. Why do you think I threw the guy out? He ran through women like a damn kid with a stack of new playing cards.” 

Simon blinks from over his mask as you walk to the counter, putting down your brushes and adding in a few containers of nice pigment. As your fingers ding the bell up front, your free hand digs for your wallet. 

Before you can pull out the wads of cash that you’d need to pay, smelling of booze and all, a credit card hits the table. You stare at it in silence for a moment. 

“Simon?”

“You’re putting it on my wall,” he rolls his shoulders to dispel tension from the previous conversion as the employee comes out from the back. “M’not going to make you pay for the tools to get the job done. Not a fuckin’ heartless bastard.” 

“Heartless? No,” you tease, though your face burns and crashes with a fiery inferno of adoration. Inside of you, your stomach flips and your throat tightens. Oh, it was coming on bad, wasn't it? “A bastard…?”

“Shut it,” Simon glares from the corner of his eye as you raise your hands innocently. 

“Alright, alright. A very handsome and generous bastard, better?” You hear a hum, a huff of breath. 

“Getting there.” 

The ride back was much the same, but it still filled you with awe. Your hands were looser now, even with the added weight from your filled bag, but that didn’t mean you weren’t aware of Simon’s presence. Once more your helmeted head was set at his shoulder blade, resting as your lungs pulled in fresh air even if it was a bit heated from the barrier. Simon had pushed the thing back onto your head the minute your leg was about to straddle the bike, firmly grabbing your chin and tilting your face forward as he shoved it on.

“Safety first, Sweetheart.” You had sworn you nearly went weak-kneed at that. 

But the sturdy presence before you made a very comfortable headrest even if the longer ride was beginning to make your legs ache and give you a migraine from the noise. 

Your hand was flat to the man’s covered flesh, the oversized jacket around your frame, and in that moment you discovered that you were almost entirely submerged in Simon Riley until it became impossible to remember who you’d been before him. You were drowned in his scent—his presence an ever-present weight of purpose and prospect. 

Blinking over the view and feeling Simon’s pulse under your fingertips, you realize with a start that Graham had never made your stomach fill with butterflies over a simple word; never made you pause or have to re-think your thoughts because you’d entirely lost them when he entered a room. 

With so much going on, and at the same time so little happening…what exactly were you supposed to make of it? There was no question you liked Simon—there was no question he liked you, either. It was obvious by the looks Price would give the two of you when you came by with lunch for them all; free drinks. 

How the both of you would sit and talk, exchanging stories while Simon showed you the adjustments he had made to his bike. The issue was that you and Brown-Eyes were stubborn. Pigheaded.

Emotionally constipated.

Your eyes drag along the view, but they always shift back to the body that’s stuck in your grip; how his heat moved through his clothes, warming your wind-beaten hands. You’re right there at his back, hanging off him and you feel…good.

There just had to be something to make one of you snap.

Entering the garage, Simon once more parks his bike and lets you get off first, and you unclip your helmet and slip the object from your head with a puff of air. 

“Thank you, Simon,” you breathe, watching him stand. “Drinks on me tonight, okay?” 

“No need for that,” his brows pull in, confused. “If I didn’t want to, I would have told you.” 

Your hands pass the helmet, which he takes as your fingers brush one another's lightly. You repress a sharp inhale, scoffing playfully at him as your eyes soften.

“I’m not going to leave without saying thank you and you taking it, Brown-Eyes.” 

“Well, then I just took it, Sunshine.” Simon motions his head outside. “Now get going ‘fore I come to my senses.” 

Laughing, you shrug and take your leave, all of your items safe in your bag for a time when you could use them next. 

“I’m already gone,” you breathe, and a soft brown gaze sticks to your form as you cross the street and slip inside to clock in. 

A truck parked down the street has its window glinting in the sunlight. It seems to agree.

—

Simon tipped back the last of his bourbon and sighed, putting it down on the bar top as you polished glasses. 

“Anything happen today?” He asks you as you put the sparking material to the light, tipping it to try and find smudges before it passes your acute inspection. 

“Nothing interesting,” you respond, humming. “Had to kick a few guys out, but it was nothing big.” 

Simon’s interest makes his eyes shift to you like a wave, head tilting to stare as the warm light cascades over your figure. He waits for you to continue, but when you don’t, he prods with a slightly concerned undertone.

“Why?” Your lips twitch as you turn to look at him, exasperated. 

“Put a cork in it, Big Guy, it was just a few who had too much to drink—I cut them off and sent ‘em home.”

Simon grunts, “That’s a girl.” 

You ignore the way your heart jumps to your throat and the tingling of your arms. “Anything with you?” Your voice is higher than it should be. “Beat off any bartenders from your property?”

“Can only think ‘o one,” he speaks slowly, his voice wafting about as the both of you were the only people here. Your chuckle makes his heart constrict in on itself.

“Oh,” you tease, face pulling in with mock confusion. Your body moves closer as it leans into the wood. Simon’s lips twitch from where they're visible, the fabric of his balaclava pulled over his nose. “Tell me about her.”

“Yeah?” He speaks in a low murmur, eyes half-lidded in that dead-and-buried kind of way—only he could pull that off and still look so handsome. You had said once that he felt like danger, and you suppose that had to be true. Simon Riley was danger, and you had taken those snake fangs and put them directly in between the cross-hairs of your neck and your pulse, waiting, wanting for that fatal strike. 

You had bet that the sting of those fangs might just be the best pain you’d ever felt.

Simon Riley was unabashed freedom.

 “She likes to think that she’s the bloody boss o’ me,” Simon grunts, scars, and tattoos on full display; there’s blackened grease on his fingers, under his nails. You listen with bated breath. “Comes ‘round all the time now, hangs like she’s under a noose. I can’t figure her out. Not for the fuckin’ life of me.”

Simon doesn't know what he’s saying, but he can’t quite help himself when you’re looking at him like that. Your eyes going wider, your usually snappy and quick tongue silent as you take his words in like law. It was addictive to see you gobsmacked—the man has to stop himself from thanking Graham Whitaker for being such a fucking fool even if the thought of ever being near that man again made him want to clench his fists.

“And?” You push, trying to force your mouth into a playful smirk, but anyone can see it for what it is. Your faked emotion falls short, leaving behind only that which Simon can claim to be the sole owner of. 

Astonishment. Admiration down to its base form—a woman gazing at something that should not be, and yet is here among the ashes and ruins of broken earth and open roads. A sliver of sky between the rain clouds.

“And?” Simon mirrors, that numb mock. 

The both of you are closer now, puffs of air hitting the other. Everything in this bar became a backdrop, shifting colors and images like some dream. The dart in the ceiling was nothing to you—the tables that needed to be buffed, the bottles restocked; even the trash that you usually took out at this time was only a shape in the corner of your vision. It all blurred around him, and while you spoke again, Simon understood that he had left the city for something new; something that he could revel in and worship like he had his guns and his duty. 

Your sentence is whispered. 

“Why did you come here?” To this town? There was no answer for that. It was picked at random—even Price knew that. It was nothing special, not even to the bugs. But here…

Simon parts his lips and utters on the lightning of the air particles, all rushing past as if he was still on his motorcycle with you—your hands around his waist and your nails digging into his flesh.

“For a bartender that keeps making my damn head spin.” 

For a long minute, there’s nothing that happens. The AC whirs and the lights outside flicker over the stretch of the empty street. In your chest, your heart hammers with the strength of the Titans. A mechanic, a veteran; a man with broken, October eyes. 

How could he be the one thing you were looking for? 

Your eyes stay locked, those shredded flecks of color holding secrets that you want to know instantly—you want to learn his tattoos and the way he thinks, know Simon's dreams and aspirations. To you, that was better than any physical destination or journey because it was one in and of itself. 

Simon was an enigma. 

“Keep talking,” you mutter, lips so close now that they brush the man’s own. He doesn’t blink as he watches you, his lungs unsteady in his chest as he takes down a deep breath. 

“Why’s that, Sunshine?” His voice is raspy, and his accent makes you shiver. 

Simon’s tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, sneaking back in as your gaze flickers down to watch pupils blown. “Because I like it when you speak to me like that,” you have to admit, a whine trapped in your throat that you won’t let out.

There’s a low chuckle that makes your legs close together, moving like honey through your veins. 

“Can do more than talk.”

This is a game—a test—can either of you go this far? Is it more than lust, is it more than some strange attraction between two people who don’t belong here? A relationship of need rather than want?

You don’t care enough to test it, because if there’s one thing that this town taught you, it's that you don’t need to worry about the future so long as there’s something promising right in front of you. 

And Simon Riley was as promising of a man as you had ever met.

Your lips meet his, and his hand is eager to snap to the back of your skull, pushing you into him as your eyes pull shut and the edge of the counter digs into your guts. Air is exhaled from your nose, mouth heavy, and skin hot as it digs and molds to the rough scrape of Simon’s stubble. His fingers pulse into your scalp, waves of something sawing you open as he stands quickly from his stool and pulls away only to push right back in. 

Your hands move into fists on the counter, stuck in this dance of wet lips and shaky legs. 

Simon groans into your mouth, shifting his head as a purr emanates from his chest and makes you respond with a silent gasp that he takes advantage of. A tongue slips to run over your own as the lights glint outside, pushing itself in before retreating just as swiftly before teeth nip at your swollen bottom lip. Your eyes snap open, locking with deep wells of brown that seem more endless than the depths of space. 

You both breathe heavily, the bar silent to the two souls that seep into one another. Not once do either of you look away from one another. 

The man seems hesitant, and before he speaks, the rasp in his voice is felt as he blinks. 

“These parts in me have been shuttin’ down, Sunshine.” Your brows slightly pinch in for a moment, confused at this turn in tone—cocky had gone to still-stone as if Simon had laid eyes on Medusa herself. 

But you know what he means. You’d seen it in his stature and how he spoke to others; you knew nothing much of his past beyond a handful of stories from his service and none of them had been pretty. And of his childhood, you knew nothing. 

You know it can’t have been good. 

Your head softly tilts, a small, delicate smile forming the words of some long-lost deity.

“I’m sure you have the tools to fix them, Simon.”

He blinks at you, fingers still stuck to your head. “Don’t know if I remember how to use ‘em.” 

Simon’s giving you a way out of this if you want to take it; you know that he thinks you should. 

“...Then you’ll just have to teach me, won’t you?” You whisper, stubborn as always. “I told you I was good at keeping secrets, right?” He hums, eyes the most open and soft you’d ever seen them as he melts—forehead connecting to yours as your smile grows wider, truer. “Then I’ll keep yours closest, Brown-Eyes.” 

You both kiss once more, more delicate as the man takes a deep breath of you. Your smirk pulls along his flesh like a brand as he holds in a quiver. 

“What’s a bartender without a bottle of Bourbon on her shelf?” He growls into you, and not wasting a moment rips his lips from yours and wipes at his face with the back of his arm. 

“Such a mouth,” he mutters, moving as you stand there to push open the half-door to let him get to you. You stand waiting, pulse wild and lips tingling. “Cameras?”

Your head shakes without you knowing it, and a finger is hooked under your chin, maneuvering it as he sees fit. Another grabs onto your hip, kneading it slowly as you melt into him. Your hands grasp into the back of his belt and his eyes spark—hips canting instinctually.

There’s a hard prod at your inner thigh. 

“Only one at the door.” You set your chin to his chest, gazing up. “Back room?”

“Won't have you on the floor,” Simon says bluntly, unphased. Your core pounds, stomach tightens as you have a sudden need to get rid of your pants and touch yourself as dampness pools through your underwear. 

“Such a gentleman,” you’re breathless, voice airy. “Guess I’ll have to be on top.” 

Simon’s breath gets caught as you slip past him, sauntering to the back door and pushing it open as you slip inside. You had already started fumbling with the zipped on your pants as the man pushed on the barrier just before it could close, coming in and letting it slam behind him as the click of a lock could be heard. 

With your shoes off, you can feel Simon’s eyes burning into you as your fingers send the zipper down your navel, the sound of the metal teeth being separated from one another a call to action. When your thumbs hook the top, ready to send the fabric down, you let the man watch before your eyes shift back up to lock together. 

Simon’s gaze was intense—unblinking and unmoving beyond the slam of his heart and the pulse of the erection in his pants, begging to be palmed as you stood only feet away. The man’s hands clenched, knuckles going white. 

While holding eye contact, you let the pants—and your panties—drop to the ground with a whoosh of fabric. Simon tenses, but doesn’t look away.

You smirk, taking a few steps forward.

“I’m surprised.” Your hand captures his waist, one moving to stroke along the prominent v-line that’s hidden by his shirt. Simon’s heavy breath meets your head as his blown pupils make his eyes look black entirely. He’s almost in a trance. “Usually I’d be having to snap my fingers.” 

“Better than that,” he grits out raggedly. You have to agree. 

Your mouth finds his neck as he leans back against the door, letting you do what you wish as his hands settle on your hips once more, rubbing up and down as your own eagerness drips from you. Simon clenches his jaw as you bite down, taking and sucking on the skin as he hisses when you give him hickeys, eyes fluttering. 

“‘Such a mouth’ you said,” you comment, hand falling lower to hear the jingle as you unclip his belt. He stares off as your hand rests and cups him, sharply inhaling when you rub your palm over the large tent. Simon fights the sway of his hips, but the widening of his legs is telling enough, pelvis knocking forward as you groan, a line of slick falling down your thigh. “I’d bet you’d like my mouth, Brown-Eyes, wouldn’t you?” Your joke and your teasing of his dick—your hickeys and your sly eyes—they all at once snap something inside of him. 

You find yourself manhandled with a squeak of shock and a jump in your gut as your legs dangle, moved back, and pressed into the very door where Simon had been moments before. Your feet settle as his figure descends.

“Your mouth, Sunshine?” Brown eyes glint, staring you down from where he taps your legs open to the air, kneeling with an open belt and pre-cum staining his pants. “Want to see what mine can do?”  

There’s no more than a dangerous smirk before his face slots itself into the clutch of your pussy. 

You gasp, hands going down to his covered hair as his nose slides along your clit, making lightning go up your spine as you push down on him, grinding as a long stripe is licked, tongue flattening out at the nerve before a loud groan makes Simon’s mouth vibrate as it attaches itself to you. 

Giving you your own medicine, teeth lightly bite, tongue flicking as your cunt clenches over nothing, fingers grasping guilty as your head knocks back with a loud whine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, toes curling as your hips move back and forth. 

Your body can feel his smirk, your juices leaking out to drip at his chin, falling down his throat as this beast of a man sucks and mewls around your clit like he’s possessed. Hands grasped your thighs, holding them open. Well, one anyway. 

Lost in the movements of his mouth, cursing and gasping as he keeps trying to build you up to the point of rapture with every hard flick and measured nip, there’s no way your dopamine-addled brain can comprehend the fingers at your cunt before they’re already inside and curling outward. 

You moan out his name pleadingly, the pace of your hips instantly increasing as Simon’s chuckle makes your lungs constrict. A separate heart-beat lives in your navel, skin sweaty and slick making its way down his fingers. 

“Being so good,” your voice breaks as Simon’s wide eyes from below meet you as your head lolls forward. He stutters, hearing the wet squelching of your pussy as his movements cease for a moment. You whimper, face pulling in, and he instantaneously gets back to it with increased fervor and ferocity as if he’d never just felt his cock twitch in his pants and his abdomen bunch up.

Your eyes widen, rapturous moans falling from your lips in blown-limpness as his mouth and fingers do sinful things to you.

The sounds coming from below were feral and animalistic at best, sopping wetness and loud groaning—it makes it all so much better. 

“So thorough for me, Simon. Making me feel so good Brown-Eyes,” you babble, tightening your core and palming hands shoving him impossibly farther into you. “Such a fucking perfect mouth—perfect fingers, knew you could make me cum on ‘em, please, Simon, fuck, oh God right there,” you break off of the praise into desperate whines. Your quivering body shakes and ruts faster, Simon’s stubble making it all burn in such a way that leaves you gasping, back begging to arch as everything comes to a tipping point.

Simon can feel it by the way your walls flex and pull in, how their slipperiness gets so loose it’s not even a problem to finger-fuck you even as your cunt bares down like a noose. Your fluids drip past his elbow, falling to his pants as his pelvis involuntarily tries to get friction from his zipper by humping the air in broken intervals. 

He’s breathing heavily, but not as much as you are, broken up by groans, grunts, and his open mouth licking of your engorged clit. He’d never admit to you how much your praise was making him want to bust in his own fucking pants. 

“S-Simon,” you knock your head back into the wall, eyes going glassy as the knot in your navel goes painful, a vile itching so very close as your spine begins to arch for the man’s viewing pleasure. “So close, oh God, so fucking good. Need it, Simon, need it from—”

Your breath hitches, fingers twitching into tight fists of fabric and the hair underneath as your walls clamp down. 

Orgasm ripping through you, your voice lets out broken, airy, moans of Simon’s name like a prayer, hips continuing to spasm and toes curling inwards. Not letting up his assault, the smug man’s tongue and fingers draw the entire experience out until your legs are too weak to hold you, having to be pressed back into the wall by white knuckles and fingers stained with your cum. You hear it drip to the floor and see it when your half-lidded eyes blurrily make out the ragged appearance of an arrogant Simon, clear beads falling off of his chin and his lower face decimated by your pleasures. The bottom of his balaclava is stained—sopping with absorbed juices. 

You both stare—you, lust-blown, and Simon, ready to grasp at himself and stave off the near-painful erection that needs to be taken care of. 

But you’re true to your words.

Not seconds after your release had flooded him, your hands pushed at his chest and shoved him to the floor. Simon grunts but lets your hands quickly fiddle with his zipper and send it down. Not a moment is wasted, and the man’s hands move your hips higher as you pull his pants and boxers down just enough to let his dick spring free and slap his abdomen. 

Your hand curls around it and he groans long, pushing up into your hand as you stroke him quickly and mercilessly with the spread of his weeping tip. Simon’s words come out as a way to steady himself, but the work of your hand is easy to get lost in as his voice is a growl.

“Tase so bloody good, Sunshine, yeah? Be needin’ that every day,” his mouth is taken in a kiss, and you tase yourself on his tongue as he shakes and his fingers flex into your flesh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he says as you lick his lips, panting below you as he quickly loses himself. “Not gonna…”

Simon’s orgasm builds incredibly fast—and not once does your hand slow in its course. He blinks in a blind panic, mouth letting off soft sounds of confusion as he looks down to see his red cock and how you play with it like a toy. You chuckle at him as his sounds get louder, legs rising, and the slapping of skin on skin addictive. 

“You are good with your mouth—and your hands. Should have guessed really, you are a mechanic after all. Got yourself all worked up.” Simon's hand comes up to your head pressing your lips back to his as his abdomen tightens and quivers, thighs shaking as his hips try to meet your break-neck pace but just can’t.

What were you doing to him? Why can’t he last longer than a few mere minutes? 

You break off and connect your forehead to his, brown eyes fighting to not go blurry and his mouth open with fast breaths. You push out as you feel his tip twitch and spurt prematurely, “Be a good boy and cum, Simon.”

He groans loudly, eyes fluttering as they try to stay locked to yours before the wet splatter of his rapid ejaculation layers yours as well as his abdomen sticky and soaked. It keeps going, not stopping until Simon’s eyes have come back down from where they had fled to the back of his head and his small grunted whine lets you know you should stop pumping him so violently. 

You release his member and go to rub along his abdomen, massaging the skin and laying kisses on his clothed chest slowly. His hands loosen on your hips, thumb pulling back to carefully run circles into the flesh as you hum in appreciation. 

Simon's quivering slows to a stop.

“You sure you only work a bar, then? Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon hisses, looking down at himself. “Made a fuckin’ mess, yeah?” 

“Only fair,” you mutter, moving up to press your lips together as you both sigh. Simon’s breath hitches as your stomach rubs him. “I like having you under me. It’s nice to see you look confused.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, and a red sheen comes to his flushed face. “Won’t happen again.” 

Your face goes mischievous, head tilting. Simon growls a weak, “Don’t.” You chuckle and hide your face into his neck. 

“Don’t test it?” You ask into his flesh, your body still pulsing and needy at the display you’d managed to pull from the stoic man. Your tongue licks over your placed hickey with a newfound appreciation for the black and blue mark, blowing on it as Simon feels himself harden again. “Or don’t acknowledge that Simon Riley has a praise kink and when a woman tells him what to do he—”

Your spine settles to the floor, hands stuck on either side of your head and digging into the wood. Simon’s eyes glint primarily, and you keen to him as your arms move to wrap around his neck as your cunt tightens.

“Thought you said you didn’t want me on the floor?” He grasps your chin, moving his face to be above yours so he can speak plainly and dead-like. A surge of power takes over his voice, and you yield with a rising of your legs and a shiver as his fluid-slick abdomen slides over top of yours.

“That was before you made me cum in a matter of fuckin’ minutes by just stroking my cock. Now,” he breathes, “now I’m going to fuck you how you deserve.” 

He grasps your legs and pulls them around his waist, locking them as he lines up his half-hard dick and bullies it inside of you, your arching back bends into him, but your shocked moan is cut off as Simon starts to move. The pressure inside of your pussy is tight enough to feel like it could snap—your gummy walls taking the curve of his veins and the grate of his head as the tip curves upward. On girth and size, Simon is the largest you’d ever taken, and your face pulls in with a mix of pain and pleasure before the latter takes over completely. 

“Get me to be your toy, eh, Sunshine?” Simon keeps your chin grasped, not letting you look away as you try to garble words over the heavy slap of wet skin. “Keep me ‘ere so you can play with me like you’ve been doin’ from the start?” 

“So full,” you seem to have lost that edge, staring up into brown eyes as your spine digs into the wood below you, your cunt taking the fast slaps of Simon’s prod as it reaches every part of you that you could ever ask. Every trust makes your legs tighten, clamping down to keep him there and ring pleasure like water. “Such a big cock, Simon.”

He huffs, but his pace increases, panting at you as your lips meet for a sloppy and slobbering kiss of teeth and saliva. Sweat falls from both of you, coating your faces and lower halves with more liquid to make this dance easier—staining already ruined clothes. 

“Splitting you open, am I? So tight,” Simon grumbles, grunting as his elbows shift to stay beside your head. “Gettin’ me off so easily, need ta return the favor for making me feel so good, Sunshine. Bloody perfect cunt, takes my cock like it was made for it. Hear that?” Your skull moves to push into the side of his face as he bites at your neck, ravishing you as the forward and backward motion of his body makes your mouth hold back mewls of raw need. So many sounds—so loud and wet it was lewd, borderline obscene with every pump of the man’s hips that more just spilled out of you, pooling with every back and forth spreading of your hole. 

Simon bites a long whine back and angles himself higher, making you shout and cry as a burst of white light explodes in your eyes.

“Making me want to fill you full of myself. Over and over, make you drip with it—go until you can’t walk. You’d take it too, yeah? You’ve got such a good look on your face, you bloody love it when I stretch you open like this—takin’ my dick so well, Sweetheart.”

You were both animals trying to get fix after fix—drunk off scent and a biological urge. 

At the words, your pussy tightens around him even more, Simon holding back a loud groan and letting your little puffs of air grace his ears along with the ravaging dig of his fucking.

“You like that?” You whine, face burning as a hand descends to play with your clit. You gasp loudly and moan, not hiding the way your hips jump and rut and fight to keep Simon’s cock taking you raw.  

“Simon!” You call loudly. “I like it—fuck I love it, Brown-Eyes. Keep touching me, please, please keep going. Keep talking, love it when you talk like that.”  

“Makin’ fun o’ me,” he scoffs, “but the little temptress has the same bastard kink, eh? It’s alright, then. I’ll just help me get you off—”

The front door of the bar opens from beyond the wall. 

The both of you stop all carnal desires instantly, wide eyes snapping back and locking with each other. A pin could drop, fast breaths and fast hips held back even as you both quiver and your nerves plead to keep going. The need doesn’t last long. Simon's fat hand covers your mouth as your eyes glint with panic before getting right back to it. 

You try to speak, to get the words out that you should go out there, but it’s all cut off by the way he rubs you every right way. Your hand anchors to his back as someone walks around the bar, their voice muffled just like yours is, but this person has no idea you’re getting railed in the back room by the mechanic from across the street. 

Simon’s eyes are dark and urgent, but his hands can't as the slap of skin that’s still incredibly loud, and the wetness that follows all but telling. Your moans and whines are hidden, kept back by a tight palm as he smirks down at you. His hips are bruising yours and you can feel the hard bone of his pelvis as it slots itself fully into yours.

“Good girl,” he whispers, accepting the words with hard thrusts that make you whine like a dog, pawing at his gargantuan shoulder blades. “Keep quiet. I’ll make you feel good.” 

Your heart hammers, walls flexing and clamping at the words. Outside the walking continues, searching for you, no doubt. Simon's hips increase, almost cruelly, and your cut-off cries spill from between his fingers. 

The bastard chuckles and watches, letting your hips meet his as your release builds with the added need to finish quickly. 

It was rabid now your back arched, how the person outside mattered so little to you now, in fact, maybe you even wanted them to hear you like this—being fucked so perfectly to the point where you had tears in your eyes and your body was growing numb; mind blanking to only pleasure and the grating press of a foreign entity all the way to where it digs at your cervix and makes you see starts with every addictive thrust.

You can’t hear anything over the previous sounds, that and rough breathing are the only things in this hot room—the air tense and ready; anticipation a drug of the highest order. 

“C’mon,” Simon grunts into your ear, hand flexing as his lungs burn. He wasn’t far away either. “Let me see it—how your face screws up all nice and pretty for me.”

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you can only stare at the ceiling as the door of the bar slams shut once more, whoever there leaving. Simon releases your mouth and you fall apart with a spine-breaking arch and a high, feral, keen.

Your release is subsequently followed by Simon’s own, his body spasming as he gives three more violent pumps before the warmth of his cum seeps into your womb with a loud groan and a pound of his fist into the floor. He grinds you both through the aftershocks, the sparks of electricity that make both of your hips jerk just a few more times before you fall limp and useless. 

Simon stays inside of you as he shifts to the side, hooking one of your hips over his thigh as you stay face-to-face as your bodies gasp and pant for air. 

When the two of you come back to yourselves, some delirious minutes later, the first thing that you both notice is the tightness of your clothes and skin. Glancing down at the mess you’ve made of yourselves, you both slowly look back into each other's eyes, pausing.

You’re the first one to snort, before you have to hold your loud laughs back behind your hand. 

“Well, I sure do have some more secrets to keep,” you say through your fit, knocking your head to Simon’s chin. The man is smiling, his eyes crinkled and mouth jerking in a series of chuckles.

“Proper few.” The laughter died down to a simmering emotion of amusement. 

You smile at Simon, and he stares back, a hand coming up to touch your cheek delicately before it traces the lines of your face.

“You know I meant it, right?” You ask him, and those browns blink at you in question. “What I said before we decided to fuck. About keeping your secrets.” Simon’s face gets slightly more serious. Your hand cups his cheek, feeling the stubble on your fingertips. 

“Simon,” you say, “I don’t want this to just be a one-time thing, okay?” 

He watches you for any glint of hesitation—of a lie. But there is none.

“Why,” Simon asks. Your answer is simple as you smirk, recalling words from a while ago. 

“You’re just going to have to stick around to find out.”

Simon shoves his lips to yours and drags you back on top of him.

—

You both exit the back room two hours later, clothes ruffled and bodies far dirtier than ever. You have a limp in your step, a pulsing ache between your bruised legs, and yet you’d never felt better. 

Simon presses a kiss into your temple. 

“Walking you home,” is what he says, and you sigh through an adoring look. You were tired, incredibly tired, and you hoped that Simon would share your bed tonight so he could hold you like he did back there. 

“Deal,” you wink, and the man huffs a chuckle, back to that same stoic mechanic that you knew. 

It’s only then that you realize that Celina had never shown up for her shift. Pausing behind the counter, you blink and look around, confused as you flatten out your clothes. Simon catches on quickly, brows pulling in with concern. 

“Something wrong?”

“Celina,” you tell him, “she never showed up.”

A beat. 

“...Probably kept away,” Simon tries to lightly say, implication enough to make you scowl. 

“No,” you utter. “She would have tried to break the door down if she actually came in. She never would have walked away.”

The man hums, pulling down his balaclava and looking about. 

“What do you want to do about it?” It wasn’t mocking—he was being honest. Your lips thinned out in thought. 

“Well…I can’t leave the bar unattended, she needs to be here in order for me to go home.” You motion a hand helplessly, shaking your head and walking forward. Through a sigh you grumble, “I guess I have to call her or I’ll—” A shadow darts from across the street and your head snaps to the dark window. 

Words coming to a swift stop, you gaze outside with blank eyes, mouth open in confusion. Simon stands taller, not having seen the strange event but not liking the shock on your face as he pivots to the view to study it. 

Brown darts over the street lamps and the closed body of his shop, along the sliver of the obsidian street and the tops of bushes in the plant boxes. But there was nothing there and Simon glanced back at you from over his shoulder with furrowed brows. 

“Thought I saw someone in a…” you frown, eyes not leaving the window as your heart tightens. “In a mask.” 

“Mh,” Simon watches for a moment before he grunts and tension seeps into his muscles. “Mask?” 

“Like yours,” you say quietly, suddenly very still. “Without the skeleton.” 

Simon moves back slowly, one foot backing up before he’s behind the counter again and shifting nearer to you—your eyes flicker upward but swiftly return to the view. He pulled out his phone from his wrinkled pants, and no sooner had he put it to his ear that you saw the individual again. This time it wasn’t just one shadow, it was three, and there wasn’t just a flash of black mist and then poof gone again—it was worse than some schoolyard prank. 

There was a bat. There was the swing of a strong arm. The glass explodes with a resounding shatter and the shrill yell falls from your mouth not milliseconds later.

Getting tackled down, Simon keeps your head to his chest as he shifts to hit the ground first, body sliding slightly before you’re forced under him and protected by his bulk. Grasping at him, you clench your eyes shut as large projectiles are hurled through the broken window and make contact with the bar shelf right above the two of you. 

But Simon doesn't move for a second. Not as the bottles shatter and drown him in alcohol and colored glass, not as the bricks fall back from gravity and strike his spine with a loud thump. He holds you to him, curled over your body as if in reverent worship, grunting as he takes the beating without thought to anything else but your safety. Loud shouts and laughter echo in from outside, but your wide eyes only stay and focus on Simon, his fingers gripping across your back and creasing your shirt. You flinch as a spec of glass knicks your arm, slicing through it with a sharp drag of an uneven edge. 

Simon growls into your scalp, but as he attempts to squish you farther into him, the barrage, just as it had come, entirely stops. 

Staying there, breathing heavily and your mind panicked, you have no time to think before Simon shoves himself up and snaps his enraged eyes forward. Like a large beast, his hands are in shaking fists, alcohol dripping from his shirt and glass pinging against the wood. You can smell blood. 

“Simon,” you say in concern, moving to stand up quickly as you try to get your breath back.

What the hell had just happened?!

“Stay there!” he barks, eyes tight as they dart back and forth to nothing until they find something. 

No one was there anymore, but in that absence, the true damage was brought to light. You ignore Simon’s words and shift until you can peek over the top of the counter, fingers shaking and mouth dry. The man beside you is stone-still, his darkened eyes lighting like fire and brimstone as the anger can all but be tasted in the air. 

The mechanic’s shop across the street. Seen through the broken remains of the bar as if a tornado had come through on the dusty air. 

It had been ransacked.

—

The illumination of the police lights takes over everything, pushing the dark away as Sheriff Russel tries to get statements from the two of you. But your attention keeps getting brought back to the stiff-standing presence of Simon. 

He hasn’t spoken beyond clipped sentences, even when he’d called Price, Johnny, and Gaz to explain the situation. 

“Can you explain what you saw?” The Sheriff eases, and your attention is drawn back. 

“It wasn’t much,” you stutter, shaken. “Shadows—men wearing masks. One had a bat and hit the window before they started throwing bricks.”

Simon’s eyes shift over the damage, numb gaze finding more broken glass, thrown paint, and dents in the garage door. The front had been trashed with garbage, and the lobby was ruined—it was by some miracle that the bikes had been left alone for whatever strange reason. 

It didn’t make him any less full of wrath. 

Your hands are still shaking, and your arm still leaking small droplets of blood down your flesh. Simon’s injuries were worse; he’d taken the brunt of it, but he didn’t seem to care at all, even as the crimson liquid stains his wet back.

“Simon needs medical attention,” you speak lowly to the Sheriff, head moving forward. “Can we do this later at the station?”  

“I’m fine,” the man in question grunts, voice deep with anger before turning and walking back to the two of you. Not once do his eyes stop searching the area; on high alert even now and not eager to be out in the open. Those old instincts were creeping back over him, and he wanted to get you somewhere safe so he could handle this situation himself.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible and while property was one thing, your comfort was another. 

How dare anyone do something like that to you. 

“You’re bleeding,” you explain, eyes tight. A hand brushes over your arm, taking it up and inspecting the small cut that you wear. 

Feet shift, and through a clenched jaw Simon utters, “So are you.” 

“You know what I mean, Brown-Eyes,” you try to make him listen, but it’s fruitless. 

“Don’t worry about me,” the Sheriff walks to assess the damage, letting the two of you speak in hushed whispers and firm looks. 

“You sound stupid,” you hiss, and Simon’s fingers rub your skin softly, his study of your body taking place in a slow sweep. “Of course I’m going to worry.” 

“Need to stop shaking.” Your face creases at the comment. 

“I’m not shaking.” Simon grabs your hand and puts his fingers through yours, raising it between you so you can look. Your eyes shift down, and your limb can clearly be seen vibrating like an engine in his hold; the fingers unable to close fully. 

Not speaking, Simon cups it with his other hand and presses, grounding you as your lungs take a deep breath before you can clear your throat. 

“I’m fine,” your words barely make it to the air. 

“...Now who’s sounding like me?” The man mutters eyes creased as he stares. “Breathe.” 

You listen, taking another deep breath and staring at Simon’s chest.

“Up ‘ere,” a finger moves out to tap under your jaw, making you tilt your head up to lock with his browns. “There we are, then. Focus. M’right here.” 

“You’re good at this,” you grumble, put off by your own separation from your body. 

Simon tilts his head. “Had to be.” 

You spare a strangled huff at that. 

How quickly things could go wrong—you had thought that tonight would be the best night of your life, but now it was just one single instant that things had made sense, the rest a stain on your memory. 

“You know it was Graham and his friends?” Simon nods, still watching you and making sure you’re calming down properly, waiting for that adrenaline crash. He knows. “What are we going to do about it?”

“Right now?” The man pauses. “Nothing. You’re coming down with me to the Bed and Breakfast. Staying there.” 

So that was how Simon shifted his priorities, walking you down the road as more and more police showed up—there would be more talking in the morning, you had given them everything you’d known so far. It was also how you were mobbed by three more concerned mechanics as you entered their temporary living situation until houses were purchased, blue and brown eyes blinking at the two of you quickly. 

“What in the bloody hell is going on?” Gaz had asked, but you were much too tired to speak beyond leaning into Simon’s shoulder and grunting. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny had muttered, only in boxers as he’d shoved out of his room. “Heard the sirens—what’s been happenin’ without me?”

Price had been the one to finally settle everyone and push out a stiff order to leave Simon and you alone for the night. With various glances and tense looks, you were both allowed into your room with little more trouble. 

It was tiny but clean, and Simon had locked the door with a grumble and moved you over to the bed so you could sit, moving off to run a bath. 

You heard the pipes squeak—the whoosh of water as it entered the tub. 

Your mind has still not entirely caught up to itself as Simon leads you forward and begins undressing you; taking off your top and letting you shift out of your own pants. The bathroom tile is cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself when you’re entirely bare as you can’t find the words to speak. That is, before Simon takes his shirt off and you see the damage that’s been done. 

You gasp, hand reaching out but stopping above the cut skin surrounded by a million bruises and large welts. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, delicately touching the skin. None of the slices were deep, but the horror was still there. “Simon…”

Brown eyes soften, and the balaclava is removed as well before a kiss is dug into your forehead. The shade of his hair matched his eyelashes, and now with the full picture, he was as handsome as you imagined him to be, though to all others the scars and the crookedness of his nose might be a shock. You hadn’t expected anything different. 

“Just bruises, Love,” he pets your neck, thumb running over your pulsepoint. 

“You’re all cut up,” your eyes water, but your stubbornness holds them back as you try to take everything in from his willingness to show you his face to the events of tonight. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know that he would do something like this, really, he was always a jerk but he was never…never bold like this.” 

Cupping his cheeks, you kiss his jaw, salty water tracking down your face as you hear Simon take in a breath. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly, curling over you as if another barrage of bricks was imminent. 

But there wasn’t going to be any danger here. Not with three other veterans down the hall.

“He ever…?” You shake your head, shakily uttering a quick response to Simon’s trialed-off question.

“No. No, I’d never stand for that.” The man’s broken body loosens, a long sigh exiting his nose in blatant relief. 

“Good,” is all he says. “Deserve better.”

You sniffle, getting a reign on your emotions. “I’ve got better.” 

During the shared bath, you clean the others’ wounds, your back to the wall as you run water over the stretch of Simon’s shoulders, washing away the blood. Your nails drag over his skin as he shivers, not looking back at you as he reaches behind and takes one of your hands into his. The black stain of his tattoos rubs along your bare arm as fingers intertwine, your limb moved and held to his abdomen as you kiss one of the knobs in his spine softly and hum to him. 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his skin. 

Simon doesn’t respond, only leaning back into you more. 

—

Two days pass with no sign from Graham or his friends—Celine, either. Everyone in town was on edge, and in that time you’d been put on paid leave from the bar on account of your involvement and the potential involvement of your coworker. So, you spent most of the time at the shop with Simon, as he’d asked you to so he could keep an eye out.  

You had thought that maybe this was a one-time event, and had believed it, as well. Graham had made a point, and being the idiot that he was, he’d pay for it. If he was smart, he’d be out of the country by now—there was no mistaking Simon’s vendetta now. Price had to reel him back in the day after the vandalism. 

You’d woken up to an empty bed, having been fitted into one of Simon’s incredibly large shirts and sweatpants for pajamas, and heard arguing. Feet padding like a cat, you had pressed your ear to the door and listened with held-back breath, as if only a peep would make the heated conversation stop.

“He made her bleed, Price. He put her in danger!” 

“Get your head on, Simon, you aren’t in the service anymore,” Price had hissed, shadows slinking along from under the door. “You can’t do anything about it.”

There had been a low growl, an aggravated breath. 

“I can’t sit ‘ere when he’s waiting like a fucking robber. This is my responsibility— happened on my watch.”

“Since when did that fucking happen, Simon, eh? What’s been going on with you two?”

A pause. “...It’s complicated.”

“Then un-complicate it—you’re thinking like a damn soldier.” 

So here you are, fixing the streaks of miscolored paint that had been spattered over the mechanic’s shop as Simon comes out, wiping his hands with a rag. 

“Good thing I didn’t start on the mural yet,” you comment to him, stepping back and putting your roller down. The rag is offered and you take it with a small smile while you slide it over your fingers. “Else I would have tracked him down myself.”

“Would ‘ave helped.” October eyes flicker along the drying paint—the marks still visible. “M’sorry.”

“If you won’t let me apologize,” you raise a brow in challenge. “I won’t let you either.” 

Simon’s eyes crinkle from behind a new balaclava, missing the skeleton details. “Cheeky.”

“It’s called being truthful, Riley.” You sigh through the tilt of your head. “But the bad news is that I had to use up the paint, and I’m not even halfway done with this. It didn’t help that they used a darker color than what I wanted as the backdrop.” 

“Want to take a drive out, then?” The question is swift and honest as it's aimed at you like a distraction from the anxiety. Simon motions his head to the garage. “Got a bit before I’m needed, m’sure you could use a break, yeah?”

“You don’t have to,” you utter, moving to rest a hand on his bicep. He almost purrs at the touch, leaning in. 

“Want to,” Simon grunts slowly. “Bikes are still good. Bastards knew I’d skin them if they touched ‘em.” 

“I’m sure,” you chuckle, teasing him through a smirk. “Big Bad Simon Riley.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes at that, turning back around as you follow after, laughing. 

You both get onto the Rebel, and the brown leather jacket moves your way along with the helmet, slipping it over your head not seconds later as Simon grabs his spare. 

“Are you sure you shouldn't ask for another helmet?” You had brought it up the first time as well—the prospect of a crash. 

“Only a small ride—I’ll go slow, Sunshine.” Knuckles tap the top of the helmet in reassurance. “Matters more that you’re the one wearing it.” 

Your face creases up, but you sigh and nod, wrapping your hands around Simon’s waist and tightly holding on as the engine starts rumbling below you. Moving your feet up to the rests, you scoot closer as the man pushes off the ground, flipping the kickstand back up before he leans forward slightly and lets the bike do the work.

As before, the two of you get out of town and nature opens up—but as soon as you really start to let your worries slide away and focus on Simon’s pulse and the freedom he gives you, there’s a cold wind from the west. Coming up and dragging along with it, a dark rain cloud sits over you both about a seven-minute drive in.

“Should we pull over?!” You shout in question as raindrops begin to patter off your helmet. The bike makes a strange chirping sound, and you blink over Simon’s shoulder until your attention is taken away by his answer. 

“Soon!” You nod, trusting him to know, and ease back. Your fingers trace the small bulge of scars at his waist, shivering. 

One minute later, you’re about to say you can see the town ahead when that chirping starts again. Brows furrowing, you grunt in the back of your throat and yell, “What’s that sound, Simon?”

He glances back briefly, unable to hear you.

“The sound!” Simon’s fingers flicker, head moving down to the bike below him—the hum of the engine was too strong up here, he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary. 

“What are you—?!” 

There’s a great shriek of black metal, and the Honda Rebel 500’s front wheel breaks off from the motorcycle fork and the bike flips. 

TAGS:

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[spooky-bunnys]

haiii!! i love your writing so much. And this is my first time requesting ♡ hear me out but the thought of baji having a tall af omega male reader and having toman meet him for the first time?!!! imagine their faces HAHAHAAHHA they would be so flabbergasted seeing thee male reader who is really shy and he was so scared to meet the gang, he tried his best to hide behind baji he's gonna look like a golden retriever hiding behind a poodle fr— at first the gang was kinda skeptical and tried questioning male reader lots of stuff thinking that he was also an alpha THEN BAJI SIGHS AND EXPLAINS THAT HIS MATE IS AN OMEGA HES JUST VV TALL AND CUTE and then and then male reader shyly presents the gang his baked cookies and as the gang immediately kicks off baji like "this cookie is heavenly come get this dummy out of here and marry him rn and adopt us please."

I had to keep rewriting this cause I kept going off track lmao. Enjoy!

When Baji told Toman, he had a surprise, many were hesitant. Sentences with Baji and surprise together was never good. But it wasn't until they had asked Chifuyu, if he knew what the surprise was.

"Eh! Baji is bringing his Omega!" Nobody could believe it. Baji met his Omega? How did he even meet the Omega? Wait-why was Baji the first one to get an Omega?

Toman by now we're arguing over whether or not, Baji was telling the truth about actually having an Omega. Nobody was believing it. Baji the guy who fights almost everyone he meets. He has an Omega? Yeah, sure.

It wasn't too much longer, when they heard Baji's bike. Now, when Toman saw who was on the back of Baji's bike. There was one thing, everyone thought. "There's no way that's an Omega."

On the bike was Tomans first division captain, and a really tall fucking dude. Like this guy was taller then Draken kinda tall. Even if he looked soft and sweet after taking off the helmet he was made to wear. He still didn't look like an Omega.

With Baji though, things were tough. "Come on (Name)! It's time you meet the gang!" (Name) just nervously looked around and shook his head. "A-Alpha I c-changed my mind. I-I can't do this!" The poor Omega was practically trembling.

He could not only feel the judging eyes, but the scents were so strong! It was like they were pumping out their pheromones, on purpose! It was hurting his nose. Baji just gave (Name) a small smile and softly grabbed his hand. "Alpha is here for you."

(Name) felt his heart swell. His Alpha was amazing in so many ways. (Name) gave Baji's hand a squeeze. "O-Okay Alpha." Baji grinned widely and helped the Omega off he bike.

When (Name) got a look at the Toman members, he felt like he couldn't breathe. They were glaring, and looking him up and down. The Alpha with the cold dark eyes started talking first. "Baji, who is that?"

Baji puffed his chest out in pride. "This is my Omega (Name)!" Baji tried showing (Name) off, but the Omega immediately hid behind his Alpha. As Baji tried to coax (Name) out others watched.

"Does anyone else see a two dogs instead of Baji and (Name)?" Many hums were heard. Then there was a snort. "A poodle for Baji cause of his long curly hair, and a golden retriever for the other one because he's trying and failing to hide behind him."

Draken smacked the back of Mikey's head. "Ow! Ken-chin!" Everyone just rolled their eyes and ignored the arguing commanders. They were more interested in this "Omega".

Baji had finally gotten (Name) out from behind him, but before (Name) could even say anything. The interrogation began. Many asked him how they met, or what his sent was. But the one that broke his heart. The one that made him freeze up.

"Are you actually an Omega and not an Alpha?" (Name) flinched and Baji tensed. He looked and saw a male, with beautiful long light hair and a black mask. That made everyone go quiet. They all stared at him. Waiting for him to answer.

(Name) replied with a soft yes and looked away. He sweet (scent) then turned sour. Startling many surrounding them, but not Baji. Oh no. He was pissed. "Sanzu! How dare you ask him that!"

Baji marched forward to grab the masked male, but he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. It was (Name) signaling him to just leave it. Baji growled glaring hatefully at Sanzu. "He may be tall! But he's still my sweet, and adorable Omega!"

The others were quiet. Until (Name) softly spoke up. "I-I um." He played with Baji's hand and pulled his bag off his back. "S-Snacks?" He held the bag up slightly. Baji shook his head and grumbled.

Mikey snatched the bag from (Name), and quickly opened it. (Name) jumped slightly not expecting that reaction. Baji and Draken had practically barked at the sorter male. "Oi Mikey! It's not polite to snatch stuff!"

"Eh? But he said there was snacks! I'm hungry Ken-chin." Mikey pulled out a container containing multiple treats. Including-"DORAYUKI!" Mikey immediately stuffed one in his mouth and went for another one.

Baji quickly snatched the container back and growled. "They're for everyone nt just you! He worked very hard on these." Baji held out the container for the others. "My Omega worked hard to make these for you guys. Be grateful."

Everyone took one bite then froze. These were so fucking good! (Name) smiled brightly seeing everyone enjoy the treats. Baji puffed out his chest. Proud that his Omega was a good cook.

That was until Baji was practically thrown away from his Omega. Toman surrounding the taller male. (Name) jumped and started freaking out. "Oi! (Name)-chin! Hurry up and marry Baji so you can adopt us!" (Name) paled and started stuttering badly.

Trying to politely escape the crowd. Baji having enough and seeing his Omega panicking practically fought the crowd and stood his ground in front of him. "OI! YOU'RE GONNA MAKE HIM HAVE A PANIC ATTACK! IF YOU DO I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!"

He then pulled (Name) down and quickly covered his face in kisses. Scenting him while glaring at the others, who slowly back up. Knowing if they were too close, Baji would actually kill them.

After (Name) calmed down, he finally turned back to Toman and slightly bowed. "I-I'm sorry but w-we're not getting m-married just yet." The Toman members grumbled. Then Baji smirked. "We might next year." (Name) blushed and lightly smack the Alpha's shoulder.

[jobean12-blog]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker!Joel AU)

Word Count: 2,228

Summary: Joel’s been away on a trip and when he returns you’re the only thing on his mind (just like you were the whole time he was gone). 

Author’s Note: He’s baaaaaaack because I’m in love and while this is related to my other two Biker!Joel stories you can find on his Masterlist HERE you don’t need to read them for this one. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you love! 

Warnings: lots of fun, flirty fun and soft fluffy fluff 

Thank you to Esquire for these amazing photo! 🥰

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Are you ever going to give that back to him?” your friend Dan asks as you shrug on the soft leather jacket.

You press your nose to the collar and inhale, lifting your shoulders with a contented sigh before replying, “nope!” with a pop of the p.

“He’s already outside” your other friend and coworker, Jade exclaims excitedly.

It had been a long and boring week of work at the bar and no Joel. He had been away on a trip and had only just returned today.

His first stop was you.

You grab your small bag and rush out the door of the backroom, waving goodbye before nearly running to the front door of the bar.

You can already hear the rev of engines and when you step into the afternoon sunshine you immediately look for him.

When at first you don’t spot him your eyes move to the row of bikes and you scope them out, certain you’ll be able to find his quickly.

Then your eyes land on the black and sleek bike, big, but not overly decorated and with giant shiny tailpipes off the back.

“Hi sunshine.”

You spin around and meet his eyes.

A week was too long.

His broad shoulders and muscular arms are on full display and his thick thighs are straining against his tight dark wash jeans.

His eyes hold you hostage and you feel a rush of warmth all over your body before you launch yourself into his arms. He catches you easily and buries his face in your neck.

“Joel,” you whisper, finally releasing your tight grip and sliding down his body.

He wastes no time kissing you and you hear the loud whistles and whoops of the rest of the guys behind you.

Your fingertips slip into his vest and you brush them over his warm skin, toying with his chain. You give it a light tug and he moans against your lips, sliding his hands down to your ass.

The hollers get louder.

“As much as these fuckers would love a show, I ain’t givin’ it to ‘em darlin’,” he grumbles, but his expression is warm. “Been waiting to see you all week. Let’s go.”

You wave at the guys over his shoulder and get nods and winks in return before Joel grabs your helmet.

“Thank fuck we’re back,” one of the guys yells in Joel’s direction. “We’ve had to deal with his grumpy ass for a week!”

You barely contain your giggle but try to hide your face in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up fuckers,” he scoffs and then dips his head to kiss your smiling lips.

When you lift your head he plops his helmet on top and throws you a lopsided smirk.

You ignore the guys and the rest of their playful jabs and ask, “how come you never wear one?”

“I do,” he says, “for longer rides.”

“Then how come I have to?” you pout.

“Because if anything happened to his beautiful face I’d never forgive myself,” he simpers before grabbing your chin and kissing you again.

“And we need to zip this up, the wind is chilly.”

He pulls his jacket more tightly around your body and takes the zipper between his fingers, slowly dragging it up.

“Dan asked if I was ever going to give his back to you…I’ve been wearing it all week and I plan on keeping it.”

You smile with feigned innocence and he tugs you closer until his lips are brushing yours and whispers, “good, this way everyone knows you belong to me.”

His words send a shiver down your spine and you press yourself against him with a kiss.

When you break apart he gives your waist a squeeze and chases your lips before throwing his leg over his bike.

He adjusts himself and revs the engine, your breath hitching at how good he looks straddling it.

“Darlin’” he warns, throwing you a no-nonsense look. “Get on.”  

You get on behind him and wrap your arms around his stomach.

You’ve gotten used to riding with him but even so nothing compares to when the bike first roars to life and he gets out onto the road to really open the throttle.

You don’t even know where you’re going but it doesn’t matter as you press yourself against his back and enjoy the ride.

He slows when you reach a familiar spot off road and when he pulls down the dirt path and kills the engine your whole face lights up in a smile.

“Are we having another picnic?” you ask when he takes off your helmet.

“Yea we are sunshine,” he answers as he opens one of the saddlebags and pulls out a blanket and a small cooler bag.

You follow him to a spot behind the trees, shady but still sprinkled with the sun’s rays that filter through the leaves. Rolling hills lay in front of you, the pale yellows, vivid greens, and colorful flowers giving them texture and depth.

“It’s so beautiful,” you whisper. “I’ll never get tired of looking at it.”

“It is darlin’,” he replies softly, “and neither will I.”

Feeling the heat of his eyes on your face, you turn to look at him and feel the breath leave your body at the intensity of his stare and when you realize the implication of his words it almost makes you sway on your feet.

He tears his eyes away and lays out the blanket, unloading the bag of goodies.

The moment he settles on the blanket you sit and crawl over to him until he has you in his lap, his arms circling you and his hands smoothing along your back.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he groans against your lips.

Your fingertips comb through his hair and you wiggle in his lap, feeling just how true his words are.

“Actually I do,” you answer with a grin.

He growls playfully and grabs you around the waist, making a smooth move to flip you over and lay you on your back.

“Mm but now I’m gonna show you just how much darlin’.”

And with desperation you match, he kisses you, hungry and with intention as his fingers dance along your inner thigh.

The late afternoon sun is still warm but your bare skin pebbles in the cool breeze. Joel grabs his jacket and drapes it over you, cradling you closer to his chest.

“I need to feed you,” he whispers but doesn’t move.

His free hand is resting behind his head and his other is wrapped around you, his features soft and his eyes closed.

You stare and reach out to stroke his cheek, feeling the welcome soft bristle of his beard against your fingertips.

He catches your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of it. When he releases you, you can’t resist the urge to brush your fingers over his mouth.

Drawing your thumb down his lower lip, you ask, “what’s your favorite color?”

“What?” he asks, bemused.

“Your favorite color? What is it?”

“Hmm,” he muses, looking up at the sky.

Then he lifts a finger and points. “That color.”

“Sky blue,” you say. “Good choice.”

“Yours sunshine?”

“The color of the ocean…turquoise I guess you would call it.”

“I love being by the ocean,” he says softly.

Your fingers move down to his chest and you trace his tattoo before curling them around his chain.

“Favorite book?”

This time he doesn’t wait a moment in answering and says, “The Count of Monte Cristo. I love a good adventure book.”

“That’s one of the best,” you agree, mulling over your answer as he waits to hear it.

“This is a hard one for me,” you explain. “I love books.”

He tucks you closer and ghosts his fingers over your skin, not seeming to care if you take all afternoon to decide.

“The Princess Bride,” you finally say.

“Another adventure and a love story” he adds.

“You’ve read it?” you ask excitedly.

“Definitely. It’s on my top ten list,” he answers.

You settle into him and think of another question as you fingers continue to move over his bare skin.

“Do you want another tattoo?”

He quirks a brow and silently watches your fingers as they smooth over the outline of the ink on his skin.

“I’m sure I’ll get another,” he says, “’specially since you seem to like ‘em so much.”

He grins at you before he winks and gives you a soft kiss.

“What’s the best trip you’ve ever taken on your bike?”

He considers the question for a few seconds and then turns to study your face.

“This trip. This is the best.��

“Joel,” you whisper, your lips parting to say more but he silences any further words with his mouth, the kiss soft and tender before he pulls away and asks, “favorite food?”

Your lips turn up into a smile and you tap your chin.

“Probably pizza…no! Pancakes! Well, maybe waffles? Chicken wings!”

He starts to laugh and rolls you over so he’s settled between your legs and has you pinned to the blanket.

“I think you’re hungry sunshine. Time to eat.”

“But what about you? What’s yours?” you ask as you start to get yourself dressed.

He watches you, his lips twitching with a grin.

“Dessert.”

Once your stomach is full and Joel’s had his dessert, you stretch out on the blanket with a happy sigh.

“You ready for a riding lesson darlin’,” Joel drawls as he absentmindedly runs his calloused fingertips along your arm.

You sit up with widened eyes.

“ME? Ride…your bike?”

“You want to learn right?” he teases. “And I have one more place I want to take you before the sun sets.”

“Maybe you should just ride…it’s probably safer.”

“Nah, come on darlin,’ you can do it.”

He packs up your things and secures them in the saddlebags before helping you into your helmet. His leather jacket is already cocooning you in his warmth and smell but you don’t budge from the spot next to his bike.

“You know how to get on,” he says lightly.

You let out an exhale and look down at your feet.

Strong fingers grip your chin and he lifts your eyes. “Sunshine, you’re gonna be fine and I’m going to be right there with you. I wouldn’t let you ride if I thought it wasn’t ok.”

You nod with renewed determination and swing a leg over the bike. It’s harder to get situated without Joel’s body and it takes you a minute to find your balance.

“Ok, so now what?” you ask, staring at the handlebars.

No answer.

“Joel?”

You turn to catch him staring at you, his eyes dark.

“Sorry darlin,’ but fuck if that isn’t hot as hell…hang on.”

He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before he drinks you in one last time and saunters over to help.

He explains what all the necessary buttons and levers are and shows you how to start the engine and walk the bike around a bit.

It’s much too big and heavy for you but he’s at your side the whole time and he’s patient and sweet.

“You’re doing so well darlin.’ Gonna have to get you your own bike soon.”

You beam under his praise and he slides on behind you, cradling you between his thighs and resting his arms on either side of yours.

“This isn’t the safest,” he starts, “in fact it’s illegal to ride this way, but it’s just a short trip to where we’re going and it’ll give you a feel of what it’s like to be in the front seat.”

He kisses your neck and holds you securely between his muscular thighs before starting the engine and taking off at a slow speed. You squeal in delight and put your face to the wind.

The short trip takes you uphill until you hit a secluded and narrow road that leads to a dead end.

You don’t hear it until Joel shuts the engine and you take off your helmet.

The smell of the salty sea air and the crash of the waves takes over and you walk to the edge of the small cliff to look down.

The ocean sweeps out to the horizon, it’s blue color dotted with sparkling diamonds every time the sun catches a wave’s crest. Rugged rocks line the shore below and the pink and orange hues of the setting sun glow brightly against the darkening sky.

“It’s not quite turquoise,” Joel whispers as he slides up behind you and wraps you in his arms, holding you against his chest.

“But it’s so beautiful,” you finish as you snuggle closer.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he turns you in his arms and draws you closer.

“I don’t know why all the guys say you’re so grumpy,” you tease lightly. “You’re such a softie.”

He leans in close, his nose bumping yours before he catches your mouth in a long, slow kiss that leaves you breathless and shaky.

When he pulls away he holds your gaze and it’s like a warm caress that sweeps over your skin. Something sparkles in his eyes, something familiar and his voice is rough with emotion when he murmurs, “I love you sunshine.’”

@sstan-hoe @blackwidownat2814​ @justkinsey​ @laineyreads​ @beccablogsthings​ 

[katsukikitten]

Your roommate Bakugou taking you out on his motorcycle every now and again. Getting you your own helmet and everything. Making you wear his sliding jacket when you're riding with him and even gives you one of his air pods so you two can hear the same songs.

But he never admits how much he likes you. He's lucky the two of you are civil after being at each other's throats for two whole years until Denki dared you two to kiss while everyone was super drunk last year.

A flip switched then, or maybe it was more of a circuit almost closing.

Almost

Not quite but Bakugou was much nicer, made you portions of his own dinner, saying he forgot to do the math to make the recipe for one or even heating your stuff up when you got home from a long day at work.

Although when the two of you rode his bike the past, the future, none of it mattered.

Just the here and now.

Your arms wrapped around his thick middle, using him as an anchor as he skillfully weaved through and navigated traffic. Occasionally he'll tap his fingers over yours or give your hand a squeeze to make sure you're okay and you'll squeeze his midsection back to affirm.

He both loves and hates when you take your arms away from him on a straight away. Leaning backwards but sure to not mess with his balance of the bike. Slowly letting your arms unfurl from your body and let the wind whip through your fingers and limbs. Face towards the sky, watching street lamps and the city sky line blur in long stretched lines while the stars and the moon chase you at a snail's pace.

It's peaceful, feeling weightless, slowly closing your eyes as you let the cooling summer air rush past you. When he's worried you're gone from him too long or a big turn is coming up, he'll gingerly reach back to tap your thigh bringing you back to Earth instead of floating in the moons rays as the stars whisper sweet nothing's you can just hear over the wind and music. Obeying you lean forward wrapping your arms around him and he feels complete again.

Taking the exit off the high way, stoping at the red light as the two of you travel in the city tonight with purpose, to see friends when normally riding was just for the sake of it. Bakugou keeps the bike up with his long, powerful legs, looking over his shoulder with his devil horn helmet to look at yours with cat ears. About to verbally confirm you're still doing okay until a car pulls up beside the two of you.

Men leaning out to bark at how they like the way you staddle the bike and that you can straddle something else. In an instant Bakugou is about to kick down the kick stand and switch off the bike when you hit your helmet with his with a gentle head bump to get his attention. Shaking your head no and although you can't see it you know he glares.

"Lights green anyways." You pretty voice just barely heard before he revs his bike to speed away. You with your middle finger in the air towards the car. Butterflies in your stomach that your hot roommate was willing to get into a fight just because some asshole thought they could cat call you in the most inappropriate way.

Pressing the side of your helmet into his back watching the city blur in streaks of white and red lights. Thinking about the lives of the people's apartments and townhomes you pass. Sighing softly wondering if maybe one day that will be you and Bakugou. Nestled away in a lavish town home down town near friends and family. Until you needed to trade it in for a home in the suburbs, you wouldn't let him give up his bike, selfishly still wanting to ride it again with him one day with your kids under the safe watch of Mitsuki.

A louder sad sigh escapes your lips and you try to keep the tears at bay. It was all wishful thinking anyway.

Bakugou brings his hand to yours on his solar plexus, letting it caress yours for a moment before he gives it a good, tender squeeze. Waiting for you to hug his middle tighter and when you do it sends a rush of heat from his heart straight to his stomach where it flutters like autumn leaves in the sun.

Both of you meaning the same thing but neither of you brave enough to say it aloud.

Love you.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

OH, Could I ask for some Racer!Hanma headcanons~??😋😋🙏🙏

Ok so I kinda did these like yesterday's ones for Mikey (I just assumed with the reader is what you was asking and then after I'd written them I realised you didn't actually mention that.) So sorry if this wasn't what you meant! But here is racer Hanma with the reader

"This is for you baby!" *purposely causes a crash*

He actually used to find racing kinda boring until he met you, he'd already been doing it for years and was able to predict the outcomes of everything. But after seeing the fear and amazement in your eyes as you watched, he changed his mind. 

When he does win he insists on you coming up on the podium with him, otherwise refuses.

If any fans try to flirt with him, he kisses his wedding ring in front of them. 

Puts any winners medals around your neck

His first thing to do after a win is to seek you out and give you a big kiss (doesn't care if the camera's are on him in that moment)

He drives in such a chaotic way that you sometimes fear for his life despite him always telling you that he's got this

Thinks his rivals are losers because they don't have you

Will flirt with you shamelessly in between training and races 

Kisaki is the one who sponsors him and will frequently ask you to give Hanma his instructions since he knows Hanma will pay more attention to you.

Is a bit of a baby about wearing his helmet (claims he doesn't like how it feels) so he insists that he'll only wear it if you put it on for him.

He better not see you cheering for anyone else during the races or he'll make you remember that "You're his" (you unsurprisingly don't mind this too much)

He still insists on having that purple design on his new bike

Sometimes will ramdomly wave to you in the middle of a race (Kisaki always curses from the stands "why can't he just focus on the win!?"

During a post race interview, he's asked what his motivation to win is and he replies s*x (the media people had to beep him out like that so it didn't get broadcasted to everyone)

[holylulusworld]

Naughty High School Adventures (1) - Kinktober 28

Summary: Why do you date an asshole? That’s what Sam and Dean want to know.

Pairing: Janitor!Sam Winchester x Teacher!Reader x Gymteacher!Dean Winchester

Warnings: shy reader, two guys want one girl, awful boyfriend, mentions of cheating, a hint of making out, implied cucking/cucking, jealous Dean, language

A/N: Because I have no self-control, I turned this one into a mini-series.

Kink: Cucking

Idea by: @moosekateer13

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Sonofabitch!“ Dean barely has the time to jump aside as the guy he despises almost runs him over with his brand-new bike. “Don’t you have eyes, idiot! This is a high school parking lot, not a racetrack!”

“What the fuck!” One of Dean’s colleagues exclaims loudly. She barely had the time to hide behind Dean’s car to not end up under the man’s bike. “What a loser!”

“Exactly,” Dean agrees. “That dick-less loser always makes such a fuss. I can’t believe Y/N is dating that asshat.”

“Well, she was lonely for a while. Maybe Y/N believes no one else is interested in her. She’s a little shy and always looks a little nerdy. Her taste in clothing isn’t better.”

Dean furrows his brows. “What?” He cocks his head to glance at his colleague. “But she looks cute. Did you see her outfit today? I liked the gray sweater, pleated skirt, and black flats. She looked so small next to me.”

“What is going on?” Sam, Dean’s younger brother and the new janitor at the high school asks. He cocks his head to watch his brother frown deeply. “Isn’t that the cute teacher you tried to hit on?”

“Shut up, Sammy. Her douchebag boyfriend almost ran me and Lisa over,” Dean grunts as he must watch the teacher he tried to invite for weeks walk toward the douche almost running him over. “I hope she doesn't get on that bike. That asshat doesn’t even wear a helmet.”

Sam grins. “Dean, she won’t get on that bike. Y/N is a responsible person. Plus, she’s got like ten books, her laptop, and a bag.”

“You're right,” Dean nods thoughtfully while watching you and your boyfriend. “Bastard didn’t even offer to take her books or shit.”

“Hmm…maybe we should lend her a hand?” Sam dips his head to look at his brother. “You know, to help her carry the books and all.”

“She’s talking to her…” Dean frowns as the cute teacher turns back around to stomp toward the building. “Uh-oh, I guess she’s mad at him. We should check on her. Right?”

“It’s the right thing to do, Dean,” the younger brother agrees. “The building is almost empty, and I need to lock it. Everyone is already on his way home to enjoy the weekend.”

“Oh…OH!” Dean looks at his brother, smirking darkly. “We shouldn’t leave her all alone at the building. That would be ungentlemanlike.” 

“Y/N,” you startle when Dean Winchester, the gym teacher, enters your classroom. You wipe your eyes and try not to show that you cried. “Is everything alright? My brother wanted to lock the building and saw you walk back inside.”

“I-“ you sigh deeply and shake your head. “My boyfriend bought an expensive motorcycle. I can’t believe he’s a thoughtless dumbass.” You huff. “My car broke down, and I asked him to pick me up. And he…he comes here with a brand-new bike while I cannot afford the money to repair my car. We talked about sharing finances and he goes off, spending money on things like this.”

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t waste your time on that asshole,” Dean steps inside the room, eyes trained on your face. “How about I drive you home, Y/N?”

“Really?” You gasp. “You will?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean brushes your excitement off. He acts as if it’s not a big deal for him to drive you home. Your boyfriend always made a fuss if you dared ask him to drive you somewhere. “But I need to help my brother first. I promised to help him collect the balls at the gym.”

“Oh, I can help too,” you lick your lips. “He’s always so kind.” You get up from your chair, pressing your thighs together at the thought of spending time with Dean and his younger brother. “He helped me more than once since he’s working here.”

“Sammy is a nice guy, and smart. He’s just a little shy around pretty girls,” your colleague flashes you a grin. “He only works as a janitor to make some extra cash for Stanford. He’s going to be a lawyer.”

“That’s great,” glancing at the books on your desk you sigh deeply. “Thank you for offering your help. My boyfriend is…”

“An asshole?” Dean offers, making you gasp. 

“DEAN!”

“It’s true, sweetheart. A man shouldn’t treat you like he does,” your colleague argues. “I saw how he treated you firsthand today.”

You huff. “Can we not talk about him? I’m already fed up. We wanted to spend the weekend at his parents’ cabin, and now he’s having a sleepover with his buddies to do God knows over the weekend.”

“Let’s forget about your deadbeat of a boyfriend. How about my brother and I show you how a woman like you should be treated,” Dean grabs your books and laptop. “I promise we won’t do anything you don’t like. Give it a thought.”

Dean flashes you a smile making you go weak in the knees. He’s holding out his free hand, offering something more than a ride home. 

You take his hand without hesitation and say, “Will your brother be around too?”

“Oh sweetheart, he cannot wait to get his hands on you.”

You didn’t know what you expected would happen if you followed Dean into the gym to join his brother. But you knew they were up to more than chit-chat.

At first, you talked a bit and helped Sam pick up the balls. He was a little shy but smiled the whole time. “Thank you for the help. This way I can finish work earlier.”

“Sammy is a little shy,” Dean suddenly stood behind you to whisper in your ear. “But I know he’s burning to bury his fat cock in your sweet cunt, Y/N. What do you say? Do you want to have two men satisfying your needs for once? I know that limp-dick of a boyfriend didn’t do you right.”

“Dean, I—” you licked your lips. Sam was suddenly more interested in cupping your face with his large hands than cleaning the gym. “We barely know each other. I mean…you’re hot…shit…did I say this loud?”

“Just say yes, sweetheart, and we are going to be so good to you,” Sam smirked at his brother’s words. “We will make sure you can’t walk straight after we are done with you.”

Dean nuzzled you. “Dean and I will make you feel so good, Y/N. Since you started working here, we wanted to make a move.”

“You did?” You breathlessly replied. Having the brothers so close arouses you more than anything. The thought of having them both makes you dizzy. “Really.”

“I’ve been walking around with a raging hard-on every day since I saw you in your short skirts and little blouses for the first time. Do you want this? Do you want Sammy and me to take care of you sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you spluttered before you could change your mind. “I-we…he’s not very interested in me lately. I guess he’s cheating on me or shit.”

Three hours later, …

“What this?” Your boyfriend opens the video you sent him some hours ago. He presses play, and his eyes widen.

“Hey there, you sonofabitch,” Dean taunts. “Do you want to know how your now ex-girlfriend will spend her weekend? How about I tell you.”

“She will be full of cock, just like right now…”

“I hope you’ll like the show…” Sam adds. “We will see if you get to watch next time…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[drkbluedream]

- release tension -

Having sex just because your boyfriend didn't come to date? LoL you are a whore. But oh well it's Baji. Who is in the right mind to reject him?.

TW mention toys and breeding. Impregnate. Choke. It's hella long

You were cursing all the way from the gathering meeting to Baji's house. You were supposed to meet your so-called boyfriend but after waiting for 4 hours, no news from him, you decided to leave.

"Fucking asshole" you said. Unsure how many times you curse today. It's so irritating when someone wastes your time. The next time you meet him, you swear to yourself, you're gonna punch him.

"Istg why everything doesn't go my way today" you almost cry when you can see the sky becoming dark and it shows it'll rain soon. You didn't bring your raincoat because you thought you'll stay in the mall with your boyfriend until night like you guys always do.

You ride as fast as you can. You don't have any mood and you want to go home as soon as possible. But you need to stop by Baji's house first because you put your stuff there. And yes it's necessary because the distance between your house and Baji is a few hour drive and your smartass boyfriend lives there too.

You screamed and cursed to the sky when the rain started pouring. You, who only wear a single layer of shirt and pants, start soaking as the rain and the wind licking you.

Around the corner, is Baji house. Only one more traffic, you arrive at his place. So you grab your phone and call Baji. "I'm on my way. I'll take my stuff and leave"

"So soon?-"

Without letting him reply, you end the call. You really don't have any mood to talk let alone explaining shit. Turn your bike here and there, you arrived. The sky is still pouring as if it's crying with you who waited for things that were unsure.

You can see Baji's house gate opened. You just park next to Baji's bike. But his door hasn't opened so you just give him time. You don't want to rush him. It's not like you have nothing to do after you cleaned your schedule for someone just for him to waste your time.

You can hear the door opened and it shows Baji with his messy hair like he just woke up from sleep and the one who wakes him up is you. Then the next thing you can see is he's grinning at you.

It's annoying to be honest. For someone grinning in front of you after all the misfortune you went through today. But seeing his messy hair, pants that you guess could fall off with a little bit more movement, without any shirts on, make you wanna giggle.

How could he be so defenseless? Didn't he realize that he is half naked in front of you who clearly could eat him alive?

You just take a glance of him before you take out your hand. "My stuff."

You waited for awhile but you didn't get any response. Your hand just hang in the air. You look at Baji who is still leaning against the door while looking at you. Yes, with his teeth showing while grinning. Probably enjoy you being mad.

"C'mon dude. I got no time" you lost your patience.

"What's the hurry? It's raining outside and you ride like crazy people just now. Just stay over at my house until the rain stops" offered him.

"Aren't you scared?"

"Of what? You? You are one of us. So no."

You just sigh and follow his order. You turn off your bike and take out the key. You open the visor and look at him. His smile perished immediately.

He just looks at you dead in the eyes. Probably notice the dry tears coming down to your cheeks after you open the visor. Then he move closer to you. Grab your helmet and help you take it off. You look in misery. Your hair is half wet due to rain and your eyes are red.

"Was it that asshole?" He asked slowly. Putting down your helmet on your bike. Wiping out the trace of your tears. You just let him do as he wishes. You don't want to argue. You believe if you say something, he is going to go on a rampage. Everyone, including you, knows how crazy Baji could get . So it's better for you to just shut your mouth.

Baji slowly grabs you to enter his house. Entering the living room. Letting you sit on the sofa and leave you alone.

You take out your phone only to find out it can't be opened. Maybe because of the battery or maybe because the water enters the phone. You unsure. But you don't want to care anymore. Too much misfortune. So you just throw it to the side and wait for Baji.

From where you are, you can see Baji making some water for you. Mixing something into the cup but you just let him. If he's gonna mix some poison, yeah just let him. You'd rather die than think about that asshole who leaves you hanging for more than 4 hours.

You close your eyes for a bit and next thing you know, you wake up with Baji on your side. Sitting next to you on the sofa while playing something on his phone. You look at the clock on the walls. Already 3 hours passed. On top of you, have a blanket that covers almost all of your body. You didn't move even the slightest. You just staring at Baji, waiting for him to realize that you already woke up. you wonder how long it'll take for him to realize it as he has a really keen sense.

Not even 3 seconds passed, you can see Baji's hands movement slowdown. "I know you already woke up. But can you not stare at me?"

You just nodded and closed your eyes again. Letting him be. Maybe it's time for you to get some rest and escape reality. At least no one knows where you at and try to find you. Let's just escape reality and go back to Dreamland. That's what you thought. But after a while closing your eyes, you still fail to fall asleep. Your consciousness is still attached and you definitely can hear Baji groaning. Probably lost his game.

Again, you look at him. Just then you realize he still didn't put any clothes on. Well you didn't care much because it's his home. So you 'rape' him with your eyes. Same as what you expect his body would be, Baji does have muscle all around his body but not buff. Especially around his hand, you can see some veins but not clear much. With a necklace that hangs around his neck, it makes him look more attractive. Let's not go to his chest.

But you keep staring at it. It's not really visible but you can't say it's completely gone too. You definitely can see his chest pooping out with a really nice color of nipple. Now you wonder if his chest is as soft as your boobs or it's hard like other muscles.

"You can touch it if you want" he invited you. You were shocked. But they curiousity overcome you. So u slowly crawl and scoot over to him. You take out both of your hands put it around his neck and you look at him. Making sure he is really fine with it. Who knows if he suddenly changed his mind.

He's just looking at you. Waiting for your hand slowly goes down. He even put his hand to the side and closed his phone to give full attention to your doings. You, who's rubbing his chest, can hear Baji sounds like he is holding his voice from coming out. "Was it ticklish?" You asked.

He just nod a bit but he said he was fine.

His chest feels a bit soft yet it still has muscle on it. You compliment it. Your hand slowly goes down to touch his stomach and you assume he started a new bakery business on it. You trail your hand on his stomach muscle and slowly goes to his waist. You were shocked when you saw how small his waist was.

Before you even can go lower, Baji's hand holds yours. You immediately look up to him. Notice that you've gone too far.

"Sorry" you said, apologies. But Baji just looks at you with his eyes and looks lost in lust. Then his hand grabs your head and just rubs it. Makes your hair messy.

"It's ok" he patted you.

Your eyes follow Baji who's standing and walking before disappearing in the kitchen. You can hear the mug clucking and being put in the microwave. After a minute, the alarm goes off and you can see Baji come out from the kitchen with two mugs in his hand.

"I made it. but you fall asleep. So it's gone cold. Which one do you want?" He asked you. His smile looks so suspicious so you told him to drink both first to make sure none of it is poisoned. Even tho a few hours ago you said it's fine if you die.

Baji looks fine so you just took the one his left hand has. No particular reason. He again, sits next to you. His smile or you could say it's more to grinning, haven't left his mouth. It's starting to annoy you. Yes, again. You start to grab his cheeks and pinch it.

"Fcking annoying. Stop smiling" you said. Pinching his cheeks didn't stop him. He is still smiling and starts to laugh at you. Then he starts pinching you too. You scream. The fuck he thinks? His buff hand pinching your cheeks? This dude definitely wants to rip your face. Definitely.

He apologizes and sips his drink. It's hot choco. With marshmallows on top. It's sweet and warm. Not too hot. Definitely good to drink on rainy days. No wonder he sounds a bit sad when he says it. About you falling asleep.

You can't stop looking at Baji. You want to talk about how annoyed you are today about how you left hanging for 4 hours yet you don't want to destroy his mood. So you just look at him while sipping the drink he made for you.

"If you have story to tell, then you can just tell, you know." He said. You laugh. As expected. He really does have a keen sense. You just shake your head and put the empty mug on the side table.

"No like, really. You can tell anything you want" Baji too, putting his mug on the side table. Makes him need to crawl a bit because the table is on your back as you sit, siding to him. He was really close that you can smell something sweet that's come from him. Now he sits like an aunty who's interested in teenagers'love stories.

"What perfume did you use?" You asked. Out of curiosity and try to change the topic.

He looks at you confused. Then he sniffed his body. "I didn't even take any shower. Since yesterday I guess"

You come closer to him and try to sniff him. There's definitely something sweet smell coming from him. Was it shampoo?

"Aren't you scared of me?" Baji asked. He looking down at you who's few inches from him. His hand slowly grab your neck and bring your head closer to him. "I don't know you did these to tempt me or you just naive that you didn't realize it"

"You haven't done anything to me after many seduction attempts I have done so I thought you just saw me as one of the boys" you said. Definitely confuse. Before you and your current boyfriend date, you already tried to seduce Baji but he never gave in. He treats you the same as other dudes treat you. So you thought you were just one of the dudes in his eyes, that's why you just touch his body just now.

"That's what we call boundaries, idiots" he flick your forehead. "It'll be such a hassle to date someone in the same circle"

You just look at Baji. Yeah he's right. It'll be a huge conflict if you guys start dating then have a fight.

"How about.. you be my personal toys?" You joking.

But Baji looks like he lost all his reasoning. He gulps his saliva and looks at your eyes, moves to your lips, then you nose, your hair, then back to your eyes. "How about YOU be my personal toy?" He asked. Seriously.

You chuckle. Nervously. Didn't expect him to take your joke seriously. Or maybe, Baji never takes it as a joke. You look at him and you clap your hand. "Alright, joke is over. Now I wanna go home"

Not even let you stand up, Baji grabs your waist and lets you sit on one of his lap. "Y/N, I would like to make you, mine" he said. His hand firmly holding your hand.

"I thought you set some boundaries for us?" You said. Trying to not look at him. You must admit that every action of him right now makes your heart flutter and your body becomes hot out of nowhere.

Baji leans over to you and whispers to your ear. "Not until you come over to my house, completely dripping wet, with a miserable face you make" one of his hands has been placed on your face. Slowly stroke your cheeks. "Never know you have such a cute face. Trying to hide something from me" then his hand stopped. "Maybe it's better for me not knowing why you cried even though it is still bothering me"

Baji's hand slowly moves to your chin and makes your eyes meet his. You can see he clenching teeth and how sad his eyes look for a second.

The tension he gave you makes you lose your patience. You can't handle his touching and the way he looks at you. You took both of your hands and grabbed his head to make it closer to yours before going in to kiss him.

Baji took control of the kiss. You just went over to him and he started to lead you. Teaching you how to kiss and you just follow his lead. You can feel he is trying to be careful with it. Trying to make sure his teeth didn't accidentally bite and hurt you. Little did he know you actually love getting hurt.

You can feel his hand grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to him. Then, slowly rubbing your back, and the next thing you know, your bra is unclipped. That's the moment you know it's not his first time. You aren't mad at it. In fact, you are glad. Imagine having two first timers doing the dead together? It's going downhill for sure.

You break the kiss and grab his pants. Trying to do something. You feel uneasy to let him make all the work. But Baji stopped you. He takes your hand and brings it to his face. Making you rub his face and he just feels your touch. He didn't say anything. But you can see he wants to go for a kiss again.

You lean in as if you are giving him permission. He gave in. You can feel the desperation of him. Holding in his desire to eat you alive. He unbuttoned your shirt. Leaving you only with undies and an unclipped bra. You look at him. Waiting for him to touch it. Your boobs. You never showed it to anyone. But you are a bit confident with the texture and size of it.

Baji stares at it. His hand still holding the shirt he unbuttoned awhile ago. You take his hand and move it to your body. From your neck, move down to your chest, and breast. His big hand completely wrapped your breast all over. He starts to fondle your nipple and play with both of it.

Baji bury his face to your boobs. Then lick and sucks your right nipple while his right hand is busy pinching and fondling the left one. You try to hold your voice in but his touch is something. No one holds you before this. And playing with yourself is not the same as his touch. You can't hold it. You end up letting out a bit sigh. Or you can say, moan.

Without hesitation, Baji put his right hand on your mouth. Trying to make you hold your voice. Probably you are a bit loud. But you can feel something growing touching your thighs. It's hot and steamy. Something that you crave.

Baji's finger slowly enters your mouth, making a gap and makes your voice unable to surpass. You start to make sinfull noise. His finger reaches to your throat, playing with your tongue, while your boobs get eaten by him.

You want to touch yourself but both of your hands are busy trying to separate Baji's head from your body. He's too strong and eager. Without realizing, you start moving your hips on Baji's thighs.

Baji can feel your pussy clenching and dripping wet. You can feel his smirking while biting your nipple. He then looks at you who's miserably trying her best to please her down part.

"Oh look, who makes my pants wet." He said as he looked under your pants. "Naughty little bitch"

He helps you stand up. You hold his shoulder as he takes off your pants. You just let him. Waiting for his next move.

Baji then flips you over, making you and him facing the same direction. You sit on top of him as if he's a chair. Your back and his body are touching. Without any clothes, your skin touches your skin. He then spread his legs open, making yours open too.

One of his hands grabs your boobs while the other on your neck, stroking it. "Have anyone touched you there?"

You shake your head.

"Then, you virgin?" Asked him. As if he was a bit shocked.

You shake your head again. "I played with myself with some toys"

"Is that so.." he said. The hand on your neck, stroke your head a bit before pushing your head to face the right side. Baji leaning in and kisses you.

As you and him kiss, he grabs your hand and leads it to your pussy. As if he told you to touch yourself. He helps your finger to rub yourself and let you go your way a bit after that. He then rubbed your stomach and played with your boobs. Feeling a bit too good, you stopped kissing him.

Rubbing your clit and grinding your ass on his boner, having your chest fondled make you lost in lust. Not enough with that, Baji starts to bite and lick your ears from back. You can hear him groaning as he also gets the pleasure from you rubbing his dick.

"Baji-"

"You should put something inside" he said as he put one of his fingers in. Start with one finger, he gradually put another one and messed up your inside. You, who are lost in pleasure, throw your head and arch your back. When you are really close to cum, he stops.

You look at him. "Bastard" .

He just giggles and makes you stand. But your legs are still weak from the simulation you received. You fall on your knees, accidentally bumping his boner. It smells sweet and makes you drowsy.

You can feel Baji's hand stroking your head and playing with your hair. He wants to help you stand but you keep sniffing the thing in his pants. You can see the big bulge and it makes you feel more horny. You kiss and lick from outside.

You pull down Baji's pants and his thick dick slap you. Again, Baji chuckle. Without hesitation, you grab his dick and break it. Jk.

You sniff his dick as you get direct contact. Slowly licking his tip. You open your mouth and take his length. You only play with the tip of his while your hand is stroking it. You try to open your mouth bigger and start taking it more. Slowly move it in and out, without letting your teeth accident hit his. His dick growing in your mouth makes you wanna gag out of sudden. But the hand behind you prevents you from pulling out. You look up at him with tears in eyes. Showing how pathetic you look on knees with his dick in your mouth.

Aroused by that view, Baji pushes you more until his dick hits your throat. You moaned and he cum. He immediately takes it out and kneels in front of you.

"Sorry" he wiped your tears and put his hand under your mouth, preventing the semen from falling into the carpet. You open your mouth and let the semen out. You never taste semen in your life and you feel disgusted to drink it.

Seeing there's some more in your mouth, and you don't look like you wanna close your mouth, Baji comes closer to you and starts kissing you. You can feel his tongue playing with your tongue and end it with licking your lips.

He stands up with the semen in his hand, pulls out some tissue from nearby and cleans his hand.

Is that it?

You stand and go at him. One step more before you could reach him but he turned over and looked at you.

"Be patient idiot" He said as he lifted you. Putting you on the tea table in front of him that's not really tall and spreading your leg open. He kisses your stomach and slowly goes down to your pussy. Licking it and playing with it. You grab his head and push away. He looks at you with his tongue out. He looks so sexy that you put him back.

He began to eat you out. You can feel his hot breath on your clit. His tongue entering your vagina. Then he playfully bites your clit. Not only that, he put some fingers to spread your pussy open.

You clench your teeth and try to run away but both of Baji's hands hold your thighs and bring it closer to him. His face is completely buried in as your thighs sandwiching it.

You came but he still didn't stop. You moaned and begging you to stop. But he didn't. You start feeling something weird about coming out. "Baji enough- I feel weird" You warned him. He kept eating you out and didn't let you rest at all. You came for the second time.

He then stands but his finger is still in your pussy and plays with it. You feel numb but you need more. You feel like his finger isn't enough. You hand start playing with your own clit as Baji just look at it and stir your inside. Who expects you to squirt?

"You are so lewd and sexy y/n" he kisses you.

"I need something bigger.. put your ding dong in" you said.

"What?" He stunned. TF is ding dong.

"Your dick.. put it in" you look at him. With an embarrassed face. Why did u say ding dong in the first place. It's not like you guys are kids.

He smirk. Then he stroke your hair. "Beg more". He said.

You in disbelief. But your pussy starts aching for something. So you take his hand and put it on your chest. "Keisuke, can you put your thick and long dick inside of me and impregnate me?".

As soon as you say that, you can feel Baji's dick roses and poke your womanhood. Your pussy is already wet so it's easy to slide it in. But his size is a problem for you. The toys you use are smaller than his. You can feel your pussy widened. You close your eyes and try to breathe as it feels so full down there. It didn't stop. Baji still tries to push it in.

"You don't have to be gentle" you said. You want him to rail you as hard as he can. You want him to destroy you inside.

"If u say so" he thrust it all in. You lost your breath again. Your eyes open widened. Shocked. Without letting you get used to it, he starts riding you. Thrusting it in and out. Every thrust is heavy and he pushes all the way in. You can feel every thrust hitting in.

"I love how your pussy is eating me. You can't see it but I guarantee you it's a pleasureable view" he said. As he thrust, he played with your boobs and bit you. Leaving a few fresh bite marks. He even licks tears that are coming down your eyes. He notices that you bite your lips and it starts to bleed so he kisses you. Licking the blood to dry.

There's one spot that makes your pussy twitch everytime he hit. He keep hitting that spot. Then he can feel his dick become wetter and your grip become tighter. "You came" he said but he didn't stop. He keeps hitting the same spot. "Who said you can come?"

His finger wrapped around your neck, preventing you from breathing. You were shocked. You try to free yourself as you tap it. But he didn't even try to loosen the grip.

"Cum for me again, babe" he said. He can see your eyes rolled up and your face becoming red. You can see he smile seeing you in such condition. He then slick his long hair to the back.

"Fuck you are sexy" he said as he release it in you. You can feel hot liquids inside of you. He then falls on you. "Let's stay this way for awhile"

"I might pregnant" you said.

"I don't mind having kid" he replied. Rubbing his face on you.

"It's my child you know"

"Who cares?"

-----------------------

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

A loud voice shocked you and you immediately woke up. Your eyes widened as you see Baji's mom in front of you and looking at Baji. But that asshole didn't even bother and continued sleeping. He even hugs you.

"BAJI KEISUKE!" a slipper landed perfectly on his face. He immediately sit. He look at his mom that gonna transform to Japan oni.

"ah I'm fucked up" he said as he grab your hand and grab you to his room. Lock you in it.

------------------------

So that's how Baji die in his mom hand AHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA

Oh if this reach 300 notes maybe i will do part two😜

[supertrxshwrites]

Maneater

Jason Todd x Reader

( idk heard this cover from a movie “no hard feelings” and I started to write this little fic I guess..it’s not great but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just something fun I might write more idk)

Jason asks you to be his date to a gala Bruce is throwing for Wayne enterprises. You didn’t think much of it, you’ve been best friends for years and you had a history of dating people and once it got serious you would panic and break it off. Afraid you’d ruin it. With Jason asking you to be his date you didn’t take it seriously, you thought it was just him being nice and letting you tag along.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────

“You want me to be your plus-one to a gala?” You ask in disbelief

“My date y/n” he says correcting you with an eye roll

“Sure..whatever..same thing..A GALA?” you say quickly your body full of excitment like you’re about to explode

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun” he says laughing nervously.

You never took Jason to be the suit and tie type but he cleans up nicely. His hair slicked back a bit, a black tux and he even brought you flowers. As you stand in the door wearing your pajamas you can’t help but stare taking in how good he looks.

“Are those for me?” You ask pointing to the flowers.

“Oh uh yeah” he says handing them to you with a nervous smile.

“Uhm I’m ready I just have to put on my dress and take these rollers out”

you say letting him in. You place the flowers down and run to your room to finish getting ready. Jason looks around your apartment, he looks at pictures on the wall of you guys from high school. There’s some of you when you were a kid and a few of your parents. After a while he checks his watch.

“Hey y/n I don’t wanna rush you but“

before he can finish you step out in a sleek black dress accompanied by a cute little black purse. Jason’s words get caught in his throat but he coughs a bit to play it off.

“Wow..you look-“ a smiles creeps across his lips

“Beauti-“ you cut him off before he can finish.

“Maybe we should get going?” You say walking towards the door. As you both walk to the parking lot and he follows along your side being sure to hang back slightly just to make sure you were safe.

“So what car did Bruce let you dri-“ you’re barely given enough time to finish your thought before you realize.

“You drove your bike here?!” You whip around to look at him.

“What? it’s fun and we’ll get there faster” he says grabbing his extra helmet.

“It’s gonna mess up my hair” you pout a bit.

“Yeah so will sliding around with no helmet now hold still” he says gently pushing your hair back and putting the helmet on you and handing you a jacket to put on then helping you with gloves.

“You good?” he asks as he puts on his gloves and helmet.

“Yeah” you say with a nod a bit giddy about the ride.

“Good.” He smiles before slapping the visor on your helmet closed and getting on the bike turning a bit to help you on. You wrap your arms around him and he kicks to start the bike and quickly closes his visor before you guys speed off flowing into traffic, weaving in and out of the lines between cars. Your heart begins to race at the adrenaline of being on the bike, The way Gotham looks at night with the lights of cars on the street and how the city is just bursting with life gives you such a feeling of freedom you can’t help but smile under your helmet. You guys stop at a light and Jason turns his head a bit his voice slightly muffled form the helmet.

“You okay back here?” He asks reaching back and tapping your leg.

“Yeah I’m okay” you nod

He nods back before the light turns green and you guys finally arrive to the gala. He helps you off of the bike and helps you out of the gloves,jacket and helmet careful to not mess up your hair. He takes your hand helping you up the stairs of the large museum like building,

He places your helmets by the door with the coats. You spin around taking in how nice everything looks and how everyone’s dressed. Piano is softly being played in the background as a woman sings while everyone mingles.

“Hey you mind sitting tight while I find Bruce?” He asks as you sit in one the bar seats

“Sure” you smile before turning to the bartender. You’re ready to order when suddenly a guy slides next to you.

“Hey man I’ll take a G and T and whatever the lady’s getting” he says turning to you with a smile.

“Oh I’ll take coke and rum I guess” you say to the bartender.

“So what’s a place like you doing in a girl like this” he says with a goofy smile.

“Oh my friend he asked me to tag along so I’m here” you smile before your drink is placed in front of you on a small napkin. You take a small sip looking around taking in the party.

“Well I don’t see him anywhere, I mean seriously what idiot would leave you alone..look at you!” He says gesturing at you

“We’re best friends we aren’t together I’m just his plus one” you laugh a bit before taking another sip.

“Oh really?” There’s a devilish smile plastered upon his face after hearing that.

“Uh yeah but I’m not looking for anything serious” you say swirling your straw in your drink.

The guy leans over to whisper something in your ear and that’s when Jason spots you from across the room. He had just finished talking to Bruce about something and he turns around to see some fucking greaseball leaning over you whispering in your ear. He felt like he was going to combust. You were supposed to be his date and now some idiot is all over you and you’re letting him. He strides over angrily.

“What the fuck y/n?” He snaps at you

“What? We’re just talking” you say confused a slight smile on your lips.

“No you’re flirting there’s a fucking difference” he says clenching his jaw staring daggers into the guy which was his cue to leave.

“Jay, what’s your problem? You brought me here as your plus-one where people are mingling..I’m not your girlfriend!” You say frustration plaguing your tone.

“Yeah I know..you’re not very good at commitment” he says under his breath

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“Nothing.” He says looking down at the floor for a moment

“No Jason what the fuck did you just say?” You’re angry now your voice raising.

“Fuck! I said you aren’t good at commitment. You don’t think I listen when you tell me about the “flings”You have?” He says doing air quotes.

“These guys that you “date” only to what leave once it gets serious and when someone wants to actually take you out on a date..you fucking turn around and flirt with a fucking stranger” the anger in his voice is dripping from each and every syllable of each word.

“Jay I didn’t kn-“ he cuts you off before you can finish

“Whatever.” He walks away probably to find Bruce or one of his brothers.

You let out a deep sigh before gesturing for another drink to the bartender. That’s when the piano starts up again, it’s not as quiet as earlier when the woman was singing earlier. That’s when you turn around and notice Jason is sitting at the piano. He clears his throat the mic ringing just a bit before he smiles nervously a silent apology to those who were standing by the speakers. He plays and begins to sing along.

“She only comes out at night, The lean and hungry type.

Nothing is new I’ve seen her here before

Watching and waiting

Oh she’s sitting with you but her eyes are on the door”

Each word hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“ So many have paid to see, what you think you’re getting for free.

The woman is wild a she-cat tamed by the purr of a Jaguar

Money’s the matter

If you’re in it for love you ain’t gonna get too far”

As Jason sings an older guy sits next to you.

“Wonder who hurt that guy” he laughs before turning to the bartender. The pain from what Jason said to you finally sinking in. Each word stinging.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, I know what she can’t do

she’s deadly man she could really rip your world apart.

Mind over matter

Oh the beauty is there but a beast is in the heart.

Oh here she comes watch out boy

she’ll chew you up oh here she comes she’s a maneater.”

Jason finishes the song, there’s some applause before he walks away and out the way you guys come in. You get up to follow him when you realize he left your helmet.

“Shit” you swear under your breath as you quickly run out and down the stairs. Jason slaps his visor down and drives off leaving you at the gala. Tears prick your eyes as you realize how royally you’ve fucked up.

[poeticlilies]

Hello hello hello, young lady. (iCoNiC Dazai smile.)

Well I like the way you write so may i ask for a fluff between reader and chuu ?

thx ~~

♡ Welcome Home

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

Desc: Days off with Chuuya. (gender neutral reader)

TW/CW: none!

Chuuya Nakahara was a workaholic.

Everyone in the Port Mafia knew; Mori, Akutagawa, the Black Lizard; hell, even his own subordinates would even sometimes cautiously suggest a break.

Which is why, on one Friday night, Mori called him to his office and informed him he had a.. "mandatory" day off. He had wildly protested, arguing that he could work, but Mori simply dismissed him and he stormed off, upset and a little fearful that he had lost his purpose.

The dark train of thoughts that was going to follow him home, however, vanished when you popped into his mind. The image of your surprised- yet giddy- expression when he comes home early and informs you that he had a day off caused butterflies to erupt in his abdomen; he smiled softly as he boarded his bike, pausing to consider wearing a helmet but ultimately dismissing it.

After a while, he pulls up to the apartment complex; haphazardly parking his bike before jumping off, a bounce in his step as he makes his way through the garden and into the Port-Mafia-issued building. He passes Akutagawa on his way to the elevator, who shoots him an incredulous look, surprised he was headed home so early. He grins back, elated, thinking of ways to spend his free day with you.

He doesn't remember stepping into the elevator and arriving at the floor your shared apartment is on; only the way his thoughts were full of you, swarming around in a frenzy at the prospect that he gets to finally spend a full day with you again at the end of this hectic season.

Unlocking the door quietly, he silently steps through the doorway; heart pounding at the soft melody you hum while you flutter around the kitchen, presumably preparing tonight's dinner.

Quietly, he slips off his shoes and his coat; placing them in their rightful places before slinking into the kitchen, pure adrenaline flooding his veins as he basks in the moment, watching you wander around with your back turned.

He sees you pause, for a moment, when he exhales a bit too loudly; head turning towards the doorway as one of your hands reach for a knife. Defeated, Chuuya grins, stepping out of his "hiding place."

"I'm home, darling." he whispers, feeling his heart jump at your happy gasp.

"Chuuya!" you squeal, rushing over and tackling him in a hug. "When did you get home? Why didn't you tell me? Is everything okay? Do you want dinner now?"

"Woah, woah!" he yelps, hands on your waist as he catches you and spins you around. "Calm down, honey, Mori just gave me the day off. Said I've been working hard enough, that I deserved a day to rest." he hums, taking off his hat and placing it on your head, purposefully tilting it down to cover your eyes.

You sigh in fake annoyance, fixing the hat before grabbing his face in your hands and pressing a kiss to his lips. He stutters, flushing red, before pinning you against the counter and kissing back. He swears up and down his heart skipped a beat at your little squeak of surprise; grinning against your lips as he basks in the moment.

"I missed this. I missed you." he admits quietly, cradling your body against his. "I missed you so fuckin' much, baby."

You hum in acknowledgement, tenderly kissing his cheek. "I know, dear. I missed you too."

Chuuya swears up and down he feels like his heart is trying to dislocate itself out of his chest; he buries his face into your neck, limbs going slack as he allows himself to be enveloped by your warmth and your comfort. You giggle, kissing his forehead tenderly as you run your hands up and down his back.

"I'm here, baby." you whisper quietly. "I'm right here."

And Nakahara Chuuya swears he has never heard of anything quite this good.

--

lord. i didnt know what to say. im sorry i took so long i just stared at this and tried to end it but like??? man?? how does one

[huffelpuff210]

Saving part 3 BikerBucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Violence, Abuse, forced relationship, age gap, obsession, sexual behavior, 

You look at yourself in the mirror, James texted you early this morning, telling you to wear something pretty, God only knows how he got your number, 

You are wearing a black sundress with sunflowers on it, it was spaghetti strapped, You covered up the bruises as best you could with your foundation, hoping you did a well enough job, you also wore a jean jacket over the dress just in case, 

Your long brown hair was in a side braid, You wore flats you looked at yourself in the mirror turning from side to side, making sure there was no visible bruising, You let out a sigh, realizing you did a good job covering everything up, 

You hear the sound of a motorcycle outside, and you didn’t have to guess who that was, You grab your bag and make your way downstairs, Your father looking out the window with a beer in his hand, hearing you he turns around, his eyes looking you up and down, 

“You are not going with a biker.” He sneers, 

You scuff, 

“And what are you gonna stop me?” You ask sure it was out of character for you to talk back but knowing James was just outside gave you a bit of courage to stand up to your father, 

He sneered at you, 

“Get your ass back upstairs you are not leaving with him!” He yells 

“just try and stop me.” You say opening the door walking towards James who was  just getting off his bike, Your father standing in the door way glaring daggers at you, sure you knew you were going to pay for your attitude when you got home, But you didn’t care at the moment you were actually allowed to have some fun for once in your life. 

“Hey doll you look gorgeous.” He says smirking

“Thank you.” You say as he kisses you on the cheek, 

“Ready to go?” He asks handing you a helmet 

You were a little hesitant because you never in your life rode on a motorcycle but you nodded taking the helmet. You put the helmet on adjusting the strap under your chin James was smiling down at you then looked at your father who was still watching with daggers, 

“I swear he always has a beer in his hand when I see him.” James chuckles 

You chuckle lightly If only he knew 

James gets on the motorcycle and you get on behind him, 

“Hold on tight doll.” He says you wrap your arms around him as he takes off, 

Everything whipping by as he drove out of town,

He never did tell you where he was taking you but soon enough he stops the motorcycle, You get off first, 

“A biker bar?” You ask 

He chuckles 

“This place has the best food, besides I thought I would show you a bit of my world.” He says getting off the bike, You hand him the helmet, 

You arch your brow, 

“Come on doll you’ll love it, besides this is only our first stop.” He says slinging his arm over your shoulders, his arm landing on one of your bruises you wanted to wince but you held it in, 

When you entered the bar you were slightly intimidated big bikers everywhere, some were at the bar drinking, others playing pool, and others playing darts, everyone looked in your direction they all smiled when they seen James, 

You both sit at the end of the bar and order your food, you felt so out of place here sure you worked as a waitress at a strip club but big bikers are a different story, 

“So tell me why do you work at a strip club?” He asked 

“I’ve worked there since I was sixteen, it pays good,” You say 

“Really?” He asked 

“Why do you sound surprised?” You asked 

“Well because most teen girls are busy going to the mall and being stuck up.” He says with a chuckle 

“I wasn’t like most girls.” You say

“Clearly.” He chuckles 

To you it seemed easy to talk to him, you didn’t feel pressured into talking like you did most people he may be a big biker, But he seemed to care and want to know you as a person. 

“So what made you want to be a biker?” You ask

He chuckled 

“Well it wasn’t like that at all, When I got honorably discharged from the army I needed to find a hobby, I learned that I had a love for Motorcycles, so I guess it just sort of just popped out at me then.” He says with a chuckle 

you smile at his story, 

After you two ate your meal and he showed you how to play pool and he was convinced you hustled him he took you to your next stop a bowling ally, 

“You know how to bowl?” He asked 

“It’s been a long time.” You say 

“How long?” He asked 

“Since I was eight.” You say with a light laugh, 

He chuckles 

Bucky couldn’t place it but he got the feeling that you didn’t get to have much fun, He always saw you working, And when he saw you starting to lighten up a bit it warmed him up, He knew you were supporting your father, it’s a small town, all he had to do was ask the right people, He knew why you worked your ass off just to support your father, 

He didn’t exactly like your father for a few reasons one was because of last night, Bikers are many things, brutes violent, rough, But there are lines they never cross and that includes hitting a woman, 

Another reason he didn’t like your father is the menacing vibe he got from him maybe it was just because of his drinking or maybe Bucky was looking way to far into it but he just didn’t like the man, 

As you both were bowling when you reached for your bowling ball the sleeve of your jacket revealed your wrist where there was a massive bruise, 

James grabbed your forearm looking at the bruise, 

“This wasn’t there yesterday, What happened?” He asked in a dark voice, 

Your eyes widen not really sure how to answer his question, suddenly he was dragging you out of the bowling ally and he has you sat on the bench, 

“Don’t make me ask again.” He says in the same voice that sent chills down your spine

[egbertgender]

Homestuck kids as skaters

June: roller blading icon. She can zoom around and do little jumps. Everyone is here because june and jade invited them and no one can say no to them. After she god tiers she can go so fucking fast and get some unreal air

Jane: roller skating queen. She can go fast as hell and has a lot of endurance, she wears a lot of safety gear because she is always trying to get faster and do new things. Ask her to show you how to dance in skates

Rose: proficient in skateboarding, roller skating, biking, unicycling, scootering. You name it rose can skate it at least a little bit, she will rotate between different modes of skating often. She has a crazy sense of balance and fashion making her a legend at the skate park and among her own friends.

Roxy: not much of a skater, she has a scooter but is mostly there because she likes hanging out :) brings a backpack full of snacks and water so everyone can refuel and stay to hang out longer.

Dave: can skateboard but isn’t good at it. Mostly goes in circles so he doesn’t fall, hes learning. Cares a lot more about looking cool and like a skater than actually being a good skater. Brings the weed to share

Dirk: can skateboard super well. Not super social but can do sick tricks. I think his rocketboard skills translate to skateboarding he just never had anywhere to do it. Despite almost never falling, he is fully decked out in knee pads elbow pads helmet gloves and safety gear

Jade: brings a bike but mostly chills out with roxy. Jade is in charge of finding and catching cool bugs and lizards to show everyone.

Jake: learning how to skateboard from the striders. Dave offers some bad advice before dirk can explain anything in a helpful way so jake is not doing well at this

[a-strange-inkling]

If anyone would like a little jealous Eddie to go along with their plate of jealous Chrissy, here’s a little more of the jealousy one shot:

He knows with every fiber of his being that loving Christina Elizabeth Munson née Cunningham is the single greatest most difficult thing he will ever do in this life.

But she loved someone else first.

What were his past conquests? Why were they a cause of concern. She loved Carver. She was with him for three years.

Three years.

They haven’t even been freaking married for three years.

She was going to marry him.

Not like just move in with him at college or something no, fucking marry him. White dress, spring wedding at Olde North Chapel the next year. He had a ring for her. Chrissy had seen it herself, snuck a peek after her friends told her about it, where it was hidden in his dresser.

Eddie wondered if she pulled it out of the box. Tried it on. He could never bring himself to ask.

He takes her hand and finds his ring, the one he made her in his shitty garage. The one she’s wearing now. The one she accepted. The one she vowed to wear forever. He spins it around her finger, unable to forget that sweet, personal conversation he shouldn’t have heard her junior year when he was a second year senior.

It was a typical day… He’d been smoking with Jeff and Donnie after school in the back of his van when Jason Carver rode into Hawkins High on a motorcycle of all things. The deep revving of the engine was so rich and condescending that everyone had to look. Even he and the boys were unable to stop themselves from peering over as Carver did a full turn around the parking lot, doing a few wheelies before pulling up to the curb around the gym where the cheerleaders were just coming out after practice.

They all gasped and squealed in delight at the show.

All except Chrissy who stood stock still in the center of her squad, gaping in amazement and disbelief. They were all shaking her arm and pointing. Like, oh my God, look Chrissy! Look at your boyfriend! He’s on a motorcycle! Isn’t he just like the dreamiest ever?

Jason pulled off his helmet, gracing the world with his golden head of tousled hair, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight like Robert Redford. His eyes twinkled at Chrissy, grinning at her while she just stood there, too flabbergasted to move. The engine revved down so he could properly beckon her over.

“Surprise.”

“Oh my God!” she cried, shaking herself out of her stunned state as she bounded up to him, ponytail swishing back forth across her shoulders. Jason swung his leg over the seat, standing with the bravado of a man who knew for a fact he was getting laid that night, wrapping an arm around her. “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“Oh my God… please don’t tell me that’s a Sturgis. It sounds like a Sturgis.” Donnie whined beside Eddie, covering his eyes, unable to look over and confirm it for himself. He was even more of a motorhead than Eddie.

“Sure is,” Eddie answered numbly. “1980 FXB with an eighty cubic inch square engine. Pristine condition.”

“Original paint job?”

“Looks like it.”

Donnie sobbed quietly, digging his fingers into his eye sockets. “Stupid lucky little fuck.”

There was no getting around it, it was a fucking gorgeous bike. Seemed like he and Carver had the same taste in motorcycles too.

Chrissy stared at the sheek black vehicle, completely mystified. “Jace, how on earth…”

“My dad let me have it for the afternoon to stretch its legs, just have to get it back in the garage by six or he’ll skin me alive… Nice huh?”

She nodded, her big blue eyes wide and round, something like a daze coming over her.

“How about it? You want that ride?” Jason asked again with a chuckle, holding up the second helmet that was hanging on the upper rider seat behind him.

“Really!?” she asked. “I can? It’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, c’mon.”

A happy little squeak escaped her as she jumped up and down in his arms, tugging on his shoulders so that he would hurry up and drive away with her into the sunset. Eddie had never seen her more enthusiastic outside of a cheer routine. She was always so poised and put together. Right now she could barely hold still long enough for Jason to get the helmet on her head and wrap her up in his letterman so she wouldn’t get cold.

It reminded him of the little girl he met backstage of the middle school auditorium all those years ago.

“Settle down, Chris.” Carver chuckled. “Gotta make sure this is on tight.”

Everyone watched them as Chrissy mounted the seat behind Jason, her arms slipping around him to hold his narrow waist. They looked… perfect together. Even more so than usual.

“Some guys really do get everything.” Donnie muttered with a shake of his head, having finally looked up.

Eddie smirked miserably at that, taking another deep drag. No fucking kidding.

Chrissy’s squeal of nervous, wild laughter could be heard even when Jason shifted gears and tore away from the school, kicking up loose gravel.

Eddie, because his favorite thing in life was to commit self sabotage, smoked way too much afterward and ended up falling asleep in the back of his van. The boys had been nice enough to clean up the scene, lock up the van… and tuck him in on the small cot. Someone even left him a bag of chips and some water. Probably Jeff.

He just laid there groggy as hell, kinda wanting to die, but kinda not. Sorta in this weird headspace that if he did die… that wouldn’t be too bad.

Images of Carver and Chrissy kept swirling in his mind… and he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him… okay, that was a lie… but he wasn’t sure why it was bothering him this much.

He was nothing if not a cynic. He knew how the world worked. Girls like Chrissy ended up with guys like Jason. And that was that. While guys like him drank or smoked themselves to oblivion because all they were good at was making their already shitty lives even more shitty.

His pathetic self pity party was interrupted by the sound of voices outside. He sobered up, quickly scrambling to the front seat, with the grace of a newborn antelope, half worried it would be Hopper swinging by to make sure he wasn’t loitering after school again… but no… God could never be so merciful.

It was the royal couple, back from their tour. Jason was just coming out of the gym with a duffle bag while Chrissy sat waiting for him on the motorcycle.

“You look really good on that.” Jason told her.

She smiled bashfully as she scooched up along the seat, holding the handle bars, eyes on the road ahead, pretending she was going to peel right out of town. “I think I want one now.”

“Oh yeah?”

She glanced up at him coyly, almost like she was waiting for a reprimand. Her smile grew wider when he only came to settle heavily behind her, his strong arms snaking around her waist.“Yeah… will you teach me to drive it?” Oh so bold. Oh so flirty.

“Sure.” Jason leaned forward, pressing his chest to her back, gripping his hands over hers as he spoke into her ear. “You know I love teaching you things.”

Chrissy flushed, a nervous little giggle escaping her. Jason laughed and kissed her cheek. “You really like it huh?”

She bobbed her head. “I love it… We should… we should get one.”

Jason laughed loudly again. “Yeah sure, maybe someday.”

“I’m serious!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining at this idea. “We can both save up the money and after graduation… we can just go.” She shot her hand off toward the setting sun like a rocket.

“Go?” He was smiling at her placatingly, like someone listening to the aspirations of a little kid. “And just where would we be going?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed, leaning back against him, pulling his arms back around her. “Everywhere, anywhere, Chicago, New York, Seattle, Sedona, wherever we wanted… we can, can’t we?” Eddie remembered hating the way his heart swelled at her plea, at the way she came to life for a moment and looked westward toward the future. A future. One that could be her own.

They wanted the same thing.

Jason pondered her question for a moment with a teasing frown. “Well I mean, there is that whole pesky college thing.”

“We’ll still go to IU,” she assured him quickly, as if it were a mortal sin to suggest otherwise. “There’s the summer and holidays… and college won’t last forever.”

“Yeah, but everyone else is here, our whole lives are here.” Jason reminded her. “Won’t you miss your parents and Mattie?”

She hesitated, only for a second. “We’ll come back and visit… there’s just so much out there, Jason… don’t you want to see it?”

“Well, sure but…” Jason shrugged one shoulder, looking a little taken aback by the question. Why leave your own kingdom where everyone hangs off every word you say? Where everyone loves you? He eventually smiled.“What are we going to do? Live like hippies on the side of the road?”

“No,” she shoved him playfully, but the idea seemed to thrill her nonetheless.“We’ll find a place, our own place, just you and me, then we can go wherever we want, do whatever we want…”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he said a little more quietly, his eyes fixed solely on her, while she stared off into the horizon. Solar fire blazing in the deep oceans of her eyes. Crazy, wild dreams in her head. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”

After a little while, she shifted in her seat to look back up at him. “Can we go, Jason? Please say we can go. Say we can go somewhere someday.” She became a little frantic, like her life depended on this agreement. “It doesn’t have to be on a motorcycle, just say we’ll go.”

His hand rose to her ribcage, just shy of her breast to cradle her against him, kissing her forehead. “Alright, alright, it’s a deal.”

Her enthusiasm faltered, but only for a moment. “You promise?”

He grew serious, looking her right in the eye as he stroked her cheek.“You know I’d do anything for you.”

That seemed to satisfy her enough. A slow, bright smile lit up her whole face at the pact. She sunk her fingers into his golden waves and drew him down to her, kissing him deeply. “I love you.”

“Love you more.” He sighed, kissing her back, folding her up into his arms to lift her up. “Come on, we gotta get this back under the tarp before my Dad actually kills me.”

Chrissy nodded, putting the helmet back and climbing around him to the back seat. She held on to him tightly as he kickstarted the Harley.

Eddie watched them as they pulled out of the lot and disappeared down the road, Chrissy’s rose gold hair flying beneath her helmet.

Yeah. Some guys really did get everything.