#road bike clothes

[bdsmsub67]

NEIGHBORHOOD 2015 Spring/Summer Lookbook

Renowned Harajuku-based label NEIGHBORHOOD has released its 2015 spring/summer collection. 

[starscreamingg]

Busses that share numbers with other busses need a little sign on em that says "hey if you're trying to go this particular way and you get on this bus instead of the right one you will find yourself in a realm of lies"

[gojosoups]

Late Night Treat ── teaser

gojo satoru x reader | 18+, modern au

Summary: Stuck at work after your deadbeat boyfriend forgets to pick you up from your overtime shift, you find yourself walking down the streets at midnight in your uncomfortable work clothes and 5-inch heels. Tired and frustrated, and your phone long dead, you stumble upon a remote gas station in search of help, where you meet a mysterious figure clad in all-black leather, refueling his motorcycle at an ungodly hour.

Pairing: biker! gojo satoru x reader

Warning/tags: 18+, smut, slight angst, modern au, female reader, strangers to one night stand or moree, cheating, reader has a dead beat bf, jealousy, use of vulgar language, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband!, [more tags tba]

a/n: this was sm fun to write, also idk shit about bikes.. I just picked wtv bike google told me LMFAO. art credits to @/uruyuuu.

Who said walking home alone in a pair of 5-inch heels was an easy feat? No one, that's who. Because what sane person would walk down the scummy streets of downtown at an ungodly hour when all buses and subway stations are closed and not a single taxi is in sight?

Fuck work and fuck your promotion. 

All you want right now is to be under your warm blanket, with a glass of wine and some shitty Netflix series playing in the background.

Oh and fuck your deadbeat of a boyfriend too—probably too busy gooning off to some low-quality hentai to pick up your call, leaving you stranded at work while you're freezing your ass off.

Shutting your phone off after the 5th missed call, you shove it into your purse, probably getting lost in the mess of paperwork and pens, cursing his name under your breath.

You continue your trek, walking along the unsteady gravel road, each step bringing you closer to a sprained ankle, but honestly, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

And if your situation couldn't get any worse—you were lost. 

The buzzing of fluorescent lights pulls you out of your inner turmoil. Snapping your head and somehow managing not to give yourself whiplash, you find a rundown gas station barely five feet away. 

Everything about this screamed “BAD IDEA!!”

But you were running out of fucks to give.

Ankles aching, you near the gas station. The neon sign of the gas station buzzing and flickering, with a few missing letters, renaming it as “G— Stat—n.”

You swear you almost saw a comically large tumbleweed rolling down the road. 

Somehow, you manage to haul your ass to the deserted gas station, your brows furrowing as you see a stranger pumping gas into his Yamaha YZF-R1—a sleek black bike accented with deep blue—under the flickering neon sign.

Well, at least you know how you're getting home now.

taglist: @baepsays @myahfig4 @joemama-2 @levislug @etsuniiru @vm4879bb-blog @lil-cinn @nanasukii28 @1satoruu @dahliabite @strawberiicreme @madamechrissy @memymay @moncher-ire @penguingirlanzu @antisocialinlw @angelina7890 @oh-my-god-donald @descargueestoporgojosatoru @synthe4u @jkslaugh97 @blubearxy @collectionofdolls @ourfinalisation @byakuya61085 @re-tired-succubus @manyno ── please have your age visible on your blog to join the taglist

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[akishaha]

Rajasthan - Colourful Cities

[monteccibikes]

Gravel Bikes

Montecci Bikes presents a thrilling world of off-road adventure with our Gravel Bikes. These versatile, rugged bicycles are tailor-made for the explorer in you. From challenging trails to scenic gravel routes, Montecci Gravel Bikes empower you to embrace nature and discover new horizons, ensuring every ride is an exhilarating journey.

[knightyoomyoui]

My Wife's Unbeatable Cake [+18]

ft. TWICE's Mina (x Male Reader)

TYPE: Fluff, Smut

WORD COUNT: 2782

NOTE: Belated happy birthday once again to our beloved penguin!

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui

TAGS: birthday sex, ass worship, ass eating, breeding, creampie, anal sex, food kink, LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS ABOUT GYATT

DESCRIPTION: As a loving husband, you surprised your wife a cake on her birthday. In return, she gave you her own that will make you crave a lot from now on.

===OOO===

START

It’s your wife Mina’s birthday. You just got out of your work and the current time had you in distraught.

Lady luck is on your side, your decision to pick your bicycle as a means of transportation for today gave you a huge assist to travel smoothly. There was a slight traffic going on in an another road, with your bike it managed you to find an alternate yet narrow route to your destination.

“Shoot, 5 minutes.” You looked at your watch. Both feet went faster on spinning the pedal until a familiar place with its bright lights still open caught your eyes.

“Don’t close yet, don’t close yet!!!” You hit the brake and quickly hopped out of the bike to enter the store. Just as when the owner comes close to the door and flip the placard from OPEN to CLOSED, you showed up at her glass door and gestured not to.

Your sudden appearance gave her a jumpscare. She opened the door and looks at you with her hand on her chest and face looking astounded. “My god, you gave me a heart attack there. What is it?”

“I know you’re about to close but can I please buy one more cake? It’s my wife’s birthday and I just got out from work.” You pleaded, hands praying for her kindness. “This is the bakery she always go to, that’s why I can’t find any more place other than this.”

The owner looks around at the shop to inspect then returned you with a sigh and a sassy expression. “Aside from scaring me to death, fine. I appreciate the compliments. Hurry, go in.” She opened the door wide and you followed her before she finally flips the card to CLOSED.

“What are you going to order?”

“This caramel paradise, please.” 

She takes it out from the shelf and placed it on the counter. “Any message you want me to write on the cake?”

“Yeah.” She handed you a piece of paper and a ballpen. You wrote it and gave it back to her.

She copied your note on the cake, you watched how flawlessly she swirls the frosting as she forms letters each by each on the cake’s surface. After finishing, she wrapped it up with a box and grabbed some candles.

“I wish you wife a happy birthday and thanks for visiting my store often.”

“Thank you so much and you’re welcome as well.” You bowed respectfully at her and left the store instantly. Looking at the box of cake with you, a huge smile grew in your lips.

Driving back home, you parked your bike in the garage and knocked at the door. You feel energized to see your wife’s reaction to this little surprise you have for her.

She opened the door, your lovely wife Mina standing in front of you in her nightgown. “You’re back.” She looked at you with a smile.

Revealing the box you’ve been hiding on your back, you presented it to her proudly. “Surprise! Got you some present to end the night.”

“Woah, is this cake?” Mina was awed by it. She observed it and excitement starting to fill her up inside. “Is this from the bakery I always go to?”

“Yup. There’s nothing more I could trust than that if it’s for you. Also, I bought your favorite.”

Mina glances dearly at you. You entered the house and closed the door. 

You stood closer at her and gently grabb

ed her to be wrapped around your embrace. “Happy Birthday, my Minari.” A greeting with a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m so touched. Arigato, honey.” Mina shyly said. “Change yourself, I can’t wait for us to eat this.”

You ran through your bedroom and undressed your work attire back into your normal home  clothing. As you went downstairs, you find Mina unboxing the cake with her eyes sparkling as she watched how delicious the cake looks. 

“Allow me.” You approached her and took the candle on the table. Grabbing a lighter from the kitchen, you clicked it and lit up its end before inserting the candle on the center of the cake.

Taking out your cellphone, you went to Spotify to play a song. As you clicked it, a Happy Birthday instrumental can be heard, and Mina chuckled while you began to sang to her.

“Go on, make a wish.” Mina closes her eyes and clasped her hands. While she does that, you took the precious time to admire her beauty up close. 

She opened her eyes again and blew the candle. Both of you clapped in celebration. “Short story, I almost didn’t able to grab this one.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t for my bike, I would be stuck on the traffic there plus, as usual my boss is a pain in the ass.” You rolled your eyes in frustration. Mina stifled her laughter and patted your chest.

“My poor husband, it would be bad if it happened but as you see, it didn’t. Let’s just be happy that this “surprise” of yours for me was a success.” Mina cheered you up. “You must be scared that I might be mad at you if you didn’t gave me a gift?”

“Yeah.” You frowned.

Mina kisses you and pinched your cheek. “So thoughtful of you. Don’t worry, I’m even happier now that I’m with you to make this birthday lasts until the end. Grab a plate, I can’t wait anymore to eat this.” 

You handed Mina one as well from the dishrack. You sliced the cake for her and applied one to her plate including yours.

First bite, and Mina hummed in satisfaction right as she tasted that caramel’s right amount of sweetness on her mouth. You joined her reaction as you find it amazingly good.

“This is the best cake I’ve eaten for years. Thank you so much for this, love.” 

“Anytime. Eat up whatever you want, it’s all yours.

After you cleaned up your plate, you returned it at the sink. Mina looked at you surprisingly. “You’re already finished? You just took a slice.”

“I’m not that much of an avid cake enthusiast. It’s delicious but not the type of food I’ll eat for another plate and so on.” You answered. “Hey, atleast this would be fine. We can just store the rest on the fridge for you to munch tomorrow or the days after.”

“Well I guess you’re right.” Mina shrugged and continued eating her cake until in its last pieces. You were just using your phone beside her when she stood up and placed hers on the sink.

“I guess I have to empty mine immediately because I have something for you tonight also, honey.” Mina walked towards you. You turned off your phone and looked upwards to see your wife standing in front of you and began stroking your hair.

“For me? What for?”

“You know, just as a simple thank you in return from me. I was actually planning this since earlier while you were away, then as you come home and brought me some cake I realized how coincidental it was.” She shared.

“I know you don’t like cake as much, but I don’t want to be the one who has a gift for tonight. I want you to feel appreciated for staying by my side and making me happy on my birthday too, honey.” Your jaw dropped when Mina turns her back around you and bent forward. Her sweatpants spoiling the outline of her panties was already enticing.

Not until when she pulled its waistband down, you gulped with eye wides open at the sight of her huge butt barely concealed by her lace clad red panties all exposed at you.

“I’m going to change your mind tonight, baby. I have a cake of my own that you’ll surely enjoy. Go on, have a taste.”

You rushed out of the seat to push Mina through the back of the couch. Her ass is in full display on you. You helped her remove her lower garments sticking on her ankle to allow her spread her legs further before spanking her cheeks, the ripple physics present at how soft it was.

“F-fuck, you love this cake I have for you?”

“Hell yes, Mina. This ain’t no just a cake right here, you got the whole bakery in you.” You kneeled and inhaled the lavender scent of her freshly washed rear, burying your nose into the confined gaps of her cheeks. You tugged them down, and now the bare flash is ready for you to devour.

“Tell me how you love it. I wanna hear it.” Mina bit her lips as she feels how great your hands around her plump end. You resumed fondling her cheeks before you started planting kisses one by one.

“Good lord,  love how big it was.” You weighed and examined its entire size on your palm, your fingers almost sinking from its fluffiness. “ So soft. So smooth.” Smooch. You squeezed the upper part and you went lower, making sure she can still feel your gentle massage while you worship it. “You did it, I take back my word. I won’t prefer anything except this.” Another smooch.

You spreaded her cheeks to view her inviting taut ring. “Look at this. The perfect cherry on top.” You smirked before giving it a kiss and some tonguing as well, Mina gasped at your mouthwork ensuring not a single spot won’t be left unattended. 

“F-fuck, mhm yes. That’s the sweet spot right there, hon.”

“I can tell that. It’s tasty.” Another peck was left before you aggressively rubbed your face across her butt, with Mina helping you by swaying her hips back and forth.

“I can’t ever get enough of this, Mina.”

“I wish you won’t. This is all for you to have.” She said as she continued swaying her hips while you slap her cheeks alternatively.

“You’ll allow me to eat this anytime I like?” 

“Yes.”

“Louder!”

“Y-yes!” Another slap echoed in the room.

“AGAIN!”

“YES!!! IT’S ALL YOURS FOR FREE!” Mina breathes deeply as screamed with the combination of arousal and pain caused by your intimidating treatment.

“I’m definitely going to request a daily serving of this, Mina. Fuck all the cakes out there, this is simply the best. Only mine to devour, just for free… and my chances to have this are unlimited.” You said as you admired the view of her curve like a masterpiece it is.

“You’re not done yet, aren’t you?”

“Oh no I’m not. Hold on, I just thought of something to try for a little spin.” You left her bent on the couch as you searched on the kitchen shelves. Returning back to your spot, you were about to kneel when you noticed something dripping on her thighs.

“Somebody is really excited.” Mina blushed as she got caught. “It’s overflowing. Very considerate of you, Mina. You provided an additional filling for more flavor.” You remarked, parting her vaginal lips for a wider view with your thumb.

“I want you to be satisfied, t-that’s why.” 

“Oh I will, and I’ll do the same for you. I’ll fill you up with my generous tip for your perfectly made dessert after I’m done.” You ran your fingertips at the stream of pre-cum on Mina’s thighs and tasted it. Straight from the source, you lapped and sipped the sweet fluid greedily like your life depends on it, causing Mina to moan out loud at the pleasure.

Going back to the things that you found in the kitchen, you opened a bottle of pancake syrup and poured it down on her butt. Mina felt a pool of slimy and thick substance behind her.

“Ahhh mhmmph haaa~” She whimpered at the sensation of your tongue gliding across her skin to scatter the syrup around. “Oh yes! Bite me down there, eat my ass however you like!” She yelled as you used your jaw more actively now at this point, gnawing at the spit and syrup ridden flesh like its indeed a baked dough you’re consuming.

Another bottle occupied your hands, consisting a whipped cream. You sprayed some on the other half and also on her slick pussy. “Good idea you got there, honey. Don’t stop, please.” Mina said as her handling on the couch’s cover tightened with every ticklish spark you create into her senses with your touch.

You ran your tongue through the length of her creamy velvet pie, encouraging Mina to escape incomprehensible sounds. You hollowed your mouth to suck the coated bun of hers intensely, turning yourself into a perverted human vacuum just to service your wife in ecstasy.

Lowering yourself, you targeting that popping cherry topped on her pie. You placed a pint of cream on your fingers and poked it on the correct spot before you bite it gently, licked, and suck it, enough to finally make Mina shiver on her legs as she barely can support herself anymore on the couch.

Now convinced that she has to meet her peak to properly conclude her special dessert, Mina felt something large and long running through her asscrack, a needy grin evident on her face.

“Here’s my tip for your delicious dessert, Mina.”

“Yes, thank you. Give it to me, please. I highly appreciate it that you would.”

Opening her gap, you slowly inserted your cock inside her hole. Mina lets outs a whine and you continue moving your hips to let your cock reach the depths of her delectable ass.

“Ungh ugh hmph fuck grr yes I love this so much.” Mina said through her moans with your constant backshots, your skin slapping in lustful rhythm. “Harder! Faster! Make that generous tip worth it!” She challenged you as she starts grinding her ass by eagerly twerking to your strokes.

You hammered the way through her ass, relentlessly fucking her limp body on the couch. As you kept her body steady with a hand on her waist, you sneakily directed another back into her clit to stimulate her.

“Aw f-fuck oh God… oh God, Y-YN i’m close!!!” You fastened the movements of your fingers until she gets overwhelmed with her orgasm. You felt your legs become moist as your wife lets out a weak scream while she squirted intensely in your naughty hands.

You gave her a minute to ride out her climax before you proceeded by switching from her ass to the newly drained pussy of hers. Squelching sounds went louder the more she takes your shaft all the way in as you plunge with all your might, savoring the sexiness of your gorgeous wife’s back figure.

Mina endured your heavy weight as your entire body is now pressing on her back, you hugged her and roamed your hands around her covered tits. “Shit, Mina… I’m about to bust inside. You’re about to receive it.”

“Cum inside me!”

What a sentence to encourage you at your best of breeding your wife. You plummeted between her thighs, her ass absorbing the remaining impacts of your crotch colliding on her soft flesh until your lower abdomen gave up on the familiar clenching feeling caused by your balls.

Mina exhaled for long as she can feel your plenty amount of cum giving her another version of creampie you did to her. You slid out of her to shoot the remaining load on top of her ass for one last additional coating before you gave up in exhaustion in a nearby chair.

Your cock twitched before it semi-erects at the sight of your wife’s messy ass and pussy overflowing with cum. Mina stands up from the couch and kneeled below you to clean the remnants of your cock with few deepthroats before she helps you wipe it off with a tissue.

“You really weren’t joking when you said you’re going to give a generous tip for rewarding you in free terms huh.” Mina said as she glances at her private part now about to deliver your seed to her womb that will most likely enable to carry your child after nine months.

“I was saving it, and I guess today’s the perfect day to spend it all.” You chuckled. Mina felt flustered at your comment. 

She invited you for another kiss. “You don’t know how happy I am today because of you alone aside from my family. I hope there’s more birthday of mine to come where I’ll celebrate with you and… especially, a kid of ours to finally join us.” 

“It’ll be possible one day, just we wait.” You cupped her face with an assuring smile. “I love you and happy birthday again, Mina.”

She hugged you in return, placing her head on your shoulder for comfort. “I love you too and thank you again, YN.” 

[killerplink]

🌃NIGHT RIDE🌃

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 8,4k

Plot: You can't sleep, so Dick takes you out for a late ride ✨ (a little makeup for yesterday's angst, besties 🙂‍↕️)

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, oral sex, overstimulation, creampie, public sex, praise, aftercare, rough sex, fluff

You can't sleep.

It's too hot under the sheets, too cold without them, and no matter how much you shift, you can't seem to find a position that doesn't leave you feeling restless. Your body is wired, thoughts buzzing, keeping you stuck in that awful in-between state—too awake to drift off, too exhausted to do anything else.

And of course, Dick notices. He always does. Even half-asleep, he picks up on the way you toss and turn, the little huffs of frustration you let out when you can't get comfortable, the way your body shifts just a little too much, disturbing the stillness of the night. For a while, he lets you try, gives you space to settle, but when you roll over again with another sigh, he finally moves.

A warm hand slides over your waist, his voice low and heavy with sleep as he murmurs, "Baby, what's wrong?"

You exhale sharply, staring up at the ceiling. "I just... I can't sleep."

His nose nudges against your shoulder, lips brushing over your bare skin. "Mmm. Want me to help?"

And it's sweet, the way he asks, the way his fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against your stomach like he's already trying to soothe you, but you shake your head.

"I don't know. I don't think I can stay still."

Dick hums, his thumb sweeping over your skin. "Then let's go for a ride."

It takes you a second to process what he means, and when you do, you blink, surprised. "Right now?"

"Yeah," he breathes, propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a soft little grin, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "Come on, pretty girl. You always like it."

And... yeah. He's right. There's something about riding with him that clears your head, that settles something deep inside you. The cool night air, the hum of the city passing by, the steady, solid warmth of him right in front of you—it always helps.

So you don't argue. You just nod, and in the next few minutes, you're slipping into clothes, following him down to the garage, watching as he swings one leg over his bike and settles onto the seat like he was born for it. Which, honestly, he kind of was.

Dick Grayson and motorcycles just make sense. The way his body moves with them, the way he handles them like they're an extension of himself. It's effortless. Fluid. And when he turns to look at you, offering his hand so you can climb on behind him, you don't hesitate.

You slide into place, pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his waist, and the second he feels you holding onto him, he glances back again.

"You ready?"

You nod, and with that, he kicks up the stand, rolls out of the garage, and then, you're flying. The wind rushes past you as he speeds through the quiet, empty streets, the city still and half-asleep at this hour, Gotham's usual chaos simmered down to a rare kind of peace. Streetlights flicker past, casting long, golden streaks over the road, and the further he takes you from the towering skyline, the calmer you feel.

You press your cheek against his back, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment, and when he feels it, he squeezes your thigh gently, his voice warm, teasing.

"You fall asleep on me, baby?"

You smile, shaking your head. "No."

"Good." He speeds up a little, the deep purr of the engine vibrating beneath you, and it makes you hold onto him a little tighter, makes your fingers press a little firmer against his stomach. "Almost there."

You don't ask where—he always finds the best places. The hidden little spots tucked away from the city's noise, where the sky stretches wide and the night feels softer, quieter. And true to form, after a few more turns, he pulls onto a secluded overlook, the kind of place that feels secret, like it belongs only to the two of you.

When the bike rumbles to a stop, he kills the engine, kicking the stand down, and as the quiet settles, you take a slow breath, letting it fill your lungs. The air is cooler here, cleaner, untouched by Gotham's usual smog, and in the distance, the lights of the city twinkle faintly against the horizon. It's beautiful.

Dick shifts, glancing back at you with a small smile. "Better?"

You nod. "Yeah."

He watches you for a second, his gaze flicking over your face like he's making sure, like he's double-checking that the tension that had been keeping you up is really gone. And then, he turns fully, swinging his leg off the bike, reaching for you.

"C'mere, love."

You let him help you off, let him pull you close, his hands finding your waist as he leans back against the bike, guiding you between his legs. And for a moment, neither of you say anything. You just stand there, his warmth against you, your arms resting over his shoulders as the night stretches around you.

Then—softly, like it's instinct—he leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You hum, tilting your head just slightly, teasing. "That's all?"

His hands tighten at your waist, just a little. "That depends."

"On?"

"If you want more."

And oh, you do. So you kiss him, deep and unhurried, sinking into the press of his lips, the slow drag of his mouth over yours. His hands move, one sliding up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, while the other settles lower, gripping your hip, keeping you close.

You melt against him, letting your fingers scrape up into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your lips, his body tensing under your touch. You don't miss the way his grip tightens on you, the way his fingers flex like he's trying to keep himself in check, trying not to pull you in even closer, trying not to let himself get too lost in you.

But you want him lost. So you shift, pressing yourself against him fully, pressing your thighs between his, pressing your chest to his, pressing your mouth harder against his until his restraint starts to slip, until that soft, teasing kiss turns into something else, something heavier.

And then—

Oh, then he's kissing you like he means it. Like he needs it. It's hungrier now, deeper, his tongue sliding past your lips, his hands tightening at your waist, his body shifting, pushing up against you like he can't help himself. And God, you feel it—the heat rolling off him, the way his breath comes a little faster, the way his hips shift ever so slightly against yours, slow, testing, like he's gauging your reaction.

And when you sigh against his lips, letting your nails drag down the back of his neck, he makes a low, rough sound in response, his grip on you tightening, his mouth pressing harder, deeper, hungrier. It's not enough. You need more.

And from the way his hands start to roam, the way his hips press forward just a little more insistently, the way he kisses you like he's about to devour you whole—

So does he. You feel him.

The thick press of him, hard and throbbing against you, even through the layers of clothes between you. The heat of his body, the way his hands slide lower, fingers gripping at your ass, pulling you closer, pressing you tighter against him. He groans when you grind against him, when your hips roll just slightly, when you suck on his tongue, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

It's messy, hot and wet, your mouth moving over his, his fingers flexing against you, like he's barely holding on, like he's losing himself in the way you kiss him, in the way you push against him, in the way you sigh into his mouth like you need this just as much as he does.

And then, he pulls back, just barely, just enough to catch his breath, his lips slick, his pupils blown wide, his voice a little hoarse as he murmurs, "Do you wanna turn back?"

You shake your head immediately. And really, he should've known.

Because you're his wild girl, his reckless girl, the one who never holds back when you want something, the one who doesn't care who might see when you're desperate for him, the one who looks at him like you could eat him whole and wouldn't even mind if someone caught you in the act.

And right now, looking at you, seeing the hunger in your eyes, the heat in your flushed cheeks, the way your lips are still parted, still slick from kissing him—

Who the fuck is he to say no to you?

So he doesn't. He just slides one hand down, slow and deliberate, slipping behind you, fingers brushing over the curve of your ass, then lower, between your legs.

A sharp, shallow breath leaves you when he finds your pussy, rubbing you through your leggings, pressing his fingers against the damp fabric, feeling just how fucking wet you already are.

"Shit," he exhales, low and rough, his forehead dropping against yours, his lips brushing against your mouth as he groans. "You're soaked, baby."

And you are. Just from kissing him.

Just from the way he touches you, the way he sounds, the way he looks at you like he's barely holding himself back. It should be embarrassing, how easy it is for him, how it doesn't matter that it's been years since you've been together, he still turns you on like crazy, still gets you dripping before he even really touches you, still makes your body react like it's the first time, every fucking time.

And when he presses his fingers a little firmer, rubbing you through the damp cotton, you can't help it—you moan softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, your hands clutching at his shirt, your breath coming a little faster, a little heavier. Dick groans, his hips shifting, his cock pressing harder against your stomach, and fuck—you want him. You need him.

So you slip a hand between your bodies, pressing your palm against his dick through his sweatpants, rubbing him, feeling how thick and hard he is, how he twitches under your touch, how his breath shudders just slightly when you wrap your fingers around him, squeezing just a little.

A heavy sigh leaves him, low and throaty, his hips pushing into your hand, his fingers pressing harder against your pussy, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed clit.

Your breath shudders as he slides his hand into your leggings, slipping past the waistband, past the thin lace of your panties, straight to your dripping cunt. His fingers brush through the slick mess between your legs, slow and teasing, just barely grazing your entrance, just enough to have you gasping, to have your hips twitching forward, desperate for more.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice low and rough against your ear, fingers spreading through your wetness, gathering it up, smearing it over your clit in slow, lazy circles. "You're so fucking wet for me, baby."

You whimper, clutching at his arms, your legs going a little weak as he finally presses one thick finger inside you, sinking deep, curling just slightly.

"Jesus," he groans, his lips dragging over your cheek, over your jaw, his breath heavy, his cock twitching against your stomach. "You're fucking dripping."

And you are.

You're soaked, so wet he slides in easily, so turned on you can feel yourself squeezing around him already, so desperate you barely think before you murmur, "I need you inside me, baby."

That does it.

His breath hitches, his grip on you tightening for a split second before he snaps, voice rough as he growls, "Bend over the bike."

And you don't even hesitate. You turn, your body moving before your mind catches up, hands pressing against the seat as you arch your back, offering yourself up to him.

His breath shudders out, rough and uneven, and his hands are on you immediately—gripping your hips, smoothing up your sides.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing. "Bend over a little more for me... yeah, just like that. Spread your legs, let me see you."

You do as he says without hesitation, shifting, arching deeper, pressing your palms against the seat as you widen your stance. His hands guide you, thumbs stroking over your skin, voice warm and approving.

"Perfect," he breathes, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pressing your legs open a little more. "Knew you'd listen so good for me, baby. Always so good."

But then—

Dick steps behind you, his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings and panties, yanking them down to your knees in one smooth motion, exposing you to the cool night air. His hands slide up the back of your thighs, spreading your legs a little wider, guiding you, making sure you're exactly how he wants you.

And you expect him to fuck you. You expect him to grab your hips, line himself up, push inside you, give you exactly what you're aching for. But instead, he pauses, and you hear his breath hitch.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, voice strained, like he's just seen the most tempting thing in the world.

You shift slightly, glancing over your shoulder, lips parting to ask what's wrong, but—

"Dick..." you murmur.

"I wanna taste you, baby," he rasps.

And then, he's on his knees. Before you can say anything, before you can even process it, his hands are gripping your ass, spreading you open, and then his tongue is on you, hot and wet, licking straight through your folds.

"Oh—fuck," you gasp, your fingers clenching around the seat, your thighs trembling as he buries his face between your legs, licking deep, slow, dragging his tongue over your cunt like he's starving for it.

And he is. He's losing his fucking mind.

Because you're soaked, so warm, so fucking sweet on his tongue, and the way you moan, the way you arch into it, the way you give yourself to him so easily—

It drives him insane.

His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your ass, pulling you open even wider as he licks deeper, his tongue flicking against your clit, then dipping back up, fucking into your pussy, tasting everything you have to give him.

You're moaning, gasping, pushing back against his mouth, and he loves this.

Loves how desperate you sound, loves how your thighs tremble, loves how messy and filthy and fucking perfect you are like this.

And he's so good. Better than anyone you've ever had. Because he knows exactly how to eat pussy, knows exactly how to make you fall apart, knows exactly when to press his tongue against your clit, when to push it inside you, when to suck, when to go slow, when to speed up.

And right now? Right now, he's making you fucking lose it.

You can feel it, the heat coiling in your stomach, the tension winding tight, your body tensing up as his tongue moves over you, pushing deeper, licking faster, his hands gripping your hips, holding you still so you take it, so you let him ruin you.

And fuck, does he ruin you.

His tongue drags through your slick folds, savoring the taste of you, groaning like he's the one getting off on this. His grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin, keeping you exactly where he wants you—right here, bent over for him, spread and dripping, his to devour.

"God, baby," he murmurs, lips brushing against your cunt, the heat of his breath making you shudder. "You taste so fucking good."

Then he's back on you, mouth hot, tongue relentless, flicking over your clit in quick, teasing strokes before dipping back down, fucking into you, pushing as deep as he can, like he's trying to pull your orgasm out with nothing but his mouth. And shit, it's working.

You moan, high and needy, your thighs trembling as he eats you out like he has all the time in the world. He hums against your cunt, the vibration sending another sharp wave of pleasure through you, and you jerk forward, almost losing your balance, but his hands are there, strong and steady, keeping you still, keeping you right where he wants you.

His hands slide up your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he's burying his face even deeper, tongue working you open, licking into you like he's starving. Your body jerks again, a desperate whimper spilling from your lips, and he groans, loving it, loving how wrecked you are for him.

"That's it, baby," he mutters, voice rough, breathless. "Give me everything."

And you do. You can't help it. The pleasure is too much, winding tighter, burning hotter, your body teetering on the edge, your moans turning into frantic little gasps. He feels it, the way you're shaking, the way your body clenches, and he knows—he fucking knows.

"Cum for me," he rasps, sucking your clit into his mouth again, tongue flicking over it in tight, fast strokes, relentless. "Cum all over my tongue, baby, let me taste it."

And then, it snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, sudden and sharp and so fucking good, your body shaking, your moans breaking, your fingers clawing at the bike seat as he fucks you through it with his tongue, licking you like he needs it, like he lives for this, groaning against your pussy, his lips wet, his face buried between your legs as he drinks you down.

And all you can think, all you can fucking feel, is how much you love this, how much you love him, how no one has ever, ever made you cum like this, like they know your body inside and out, like they own it.

Like Dick does. And he's not even done yet.

He knows he should stop. He should give you a break, should let you catch your breath, should let the aftershocks of your orgasm fade before he touches you again.

But he can't.

Because you're so fucking pretty like this—your body still trembling, your pussy swollen and soaked, your thighs quivering as you try to come down. And he loves you so much, but he also loves the way you fall apart when he overstimulates you, loves the way you whimper when he keeps licking you, loves how you try to squirm away but don't really mean it.

So he doesn't let you.

His hands tighten around your thighs, his grip firm, holding you there, keeping you spread, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he wants you. And then he licks you again. Slowly, softly, just a teasing flick of his tongue against your swollen little clit.

Then another, just as light, just as lazy. His breath is hot against your drenched cunt, and he hums like he's savoring the taste, like he's enjoying the way your hips twitch, the way your body reacts even before your mind can catch up. He drags his tongue lower, tracing the mess he's made of you, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, catching the slick, the warmth, the leftover pulse of your orgasm.

And then he moans against you, low and deep, the vibration sinking into your skin, making your legs jolt in his grip. He's drowning in it, in you, in the way your pussy is still fluttering, still so puffy and needy even after everything.

His mouth is hot and wet as he kisses your clit again, this time with more pressure, and when he flicks his tongue just right, he groans like he can't help himself, like he's the one getting wrecked from how fucking good you feel.

And you sob out his name. "Dick—fuck, please—"

But he doesn't stop. He flattens his tongue against your clit, licking slow, lazy circles, making sure you feel everything, making sure you take it, dragging his tongue through the mess he's made of you, humming as he laps at you, flicking his tongue just right.

Until you're whimpering. Until your thighs are shaking. Until you're trying to pull away, trying to lift yourself off the bike, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. But his hands hold you firm, keeping you there, making you feel all of it, until you're gasping, until you're pleading.

"Dick, please, I can't—I need you to fuck me, baby, please—"

That snaps him out of it.

His mouth leaves you with a final, wet kiss to your clit, his chest heaving as he presses one last, open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. Then another. Then he's nipping at your ass, kneading it, squeezing it, letting himself feel you, letting himself worship you. And then, he gets up. And fuck, he's so hard.

His dick aches, straining against his sweatpants, desperate to be inside you, to feel your tight little pussy squeezing around him, to fuck you the way he knows you need. He pulls himself out, his dick heavy in his hand, the head flushed, leaking precum. He groans softly as he slides it between your legs, pressing it against your soaked folds, sliding it through the slick mess, coating himself in your arousal.

"Fuck, baby," he mutters, watching the way his dick glides so easily through your wetness, watching how your slick clings to him in strings as he drags the tip through your folds, bumping against your swollen clit. "Look at you. So fucking wet for me."

And then, he pushes in. The head of his cock stretches you open, slow and deep, sinking inside your tight, drenched cunt, pressing in inch by inch, splitting you open around him. And you still struggle to take him, still stretch tight around his thick cock, still feel yourself pulse, struggling to accommodate him even after all this time.

But you love it.

You love how big he is, how good he feels, how he always makes you feel so fucking full, like you're made for him, like you need this, need him. And he loves it too.

Loves how tight you are, how needy, how your pussy clenches around him as he pushes deeper, struggling to take all of him, struggling to handle it but trying anyway, because you always do, because you always take him so fucking well.

"Jesus, baby," he groans, his head falling forward, his hands gripping your hips, his breath ragged as he bottoms out with a slick little squelch, his dick buried all the way inside you.

You shudder, your whole body trembling, your fingers gripping the seat, a broken whimper spilling from your lips. And he leans over you, pressing his chest to your back, pressing his lips to your ear, his voice low, sweet, warm.

"You okay, pretty girl?"

You nod frantically. "Yes—yes, baby, please, move—"

And with a moan, he does. Slow, long thrusts, dragging his cock out almost all the way before pressing back inside, giving you everything, filling you completely, making sure you feel all of him with every deep, slow stroke.

And fuck, how can he not?

You're so good for him, so wet, so hot, squeezing his dick like you never want him to leave, and he needs to give you everything, has to make you feel good, has to let you feel how much he fucking loves you.

His hands slip under your shirt, sliding up your stomach, finding your tits, teasing your nipples as his cock thrusts into you, slow and deep, groaning into your ear, lost in the way your pussy grips him, lost in the way you moan for him, lost in the way you let him ruin you.

Dick groans against your ear, voice thick with arousal, breath hot against your skin as he keeps you right where he wants you—pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around you, his cock buried deep inside your soaked little cunt.

And fuck, he can feel you.

The way your pussy clenches around him with every slow, deep thrust. The way your walls flutter when he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that makes you gasp. The way your slick coats his cock, dripping down his length, soaking him in your arousal.

"God, baby," he mutters, dragging his lips along your neck, licking, sucking, nipping, loving the way you shudder against him. "You feel so fucking good. Always so fucking tight for me."

His fingers slide over your tits, teasing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he fucks you—slow, deep, shallow thrusts, grinding into you, making sure you feel it, making sure you take it all, making sure you know how much he loves this, how much he loves you.

And your little moans—fuck, they drive him crazy. So sweet. So needy. So fucking perfect.

"Love your pussy, baby," he breathes, dragging his tongue along your throat, nipping at your jaw, rolling his hips into you just right to make you whimper. "So wet for me. So fucking soft. Always take my dick so well, don't you?"

You moan, your hands gripping his forearms, your nails digging into his skin as he grinds deeper, making your breath hitch, making your body tremble. And then, his hand slides lower. Fingers dipping between your thighs, finding your swollen little clit, circling it in time with his thrusts.

And God, your whole body shakes.

Your moan breaks into a whimper, your cunt clenching so tightly around his cock that he groans against your throat, his hips stuttering, his fingers pressing firmer against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your thighs quiver.

"Yeah, that's it," he breathes, kissing the corner of your jaw, murmuring soft little praises into your ear, words meant just for you. "Feels good, baby? Love when I fuck you like this? Love when I take my time with you?"

You nod frantically, gasping when his fingers press just right, rubbing you so perfectly in sync with his thrusts, fucking you so deep, so slow, like he's savoring every second. And he is.

Because you drive him crazy. Because he loves you more than anything. Because he loves the way you fall apart in his arms, the way your little gasps turn to soft, needy moans, the way you tremble when he whispers in your ear, the way you whimper when he tells you—

"So fucking pretty, baby." His lips brush your ear, voice sweet, voice filthy. "So good for me. Love you so much. Love this perfect little pussy, all wet and warm for me, squeezing me so tight. Made for me, huh?"

And you sob out a moan, thighs shaking, pussy clenching around his dick, making him groan, making his fingers work your clit just a little faster, making you whimper as he thrusts slow and deep, keeping you right on the edge, keeping you panting, trembling, desperate.

"C'mon, sweet girl," Dick murmurs, voice thick with want, slow and sweet and hot against your ear. "Wanna feel you cum on my dick, baby."

His fingers press down on your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make you whimper, that make your whole body tremble against him. And he knows—he knows you're close, knows exactly how to keep you there, hovering on that edge, making it last, making you feel everything.

And God, the way your pussy clenches around him, the way you squeeze all the precum from his dick, making every slow thrust sloppier, slicker—fuck, it drives him crazy.

"Feel that?" he breathes, rolling his hips slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch, making sure you feel how his dick drags inside you, stretching you open, making you shiver. "Feel how wet you are? Fuck, baby, you're dripping for me."

And you are. You can feel it—feel how your pussy grips him with every slow, deep thrust, feel how his dick slides against your walls, so slick, so fucking good, feel how his fingers rub your clit just right, how his body is solid and hot against yours, how he fucks you so good your thoughts scramble.

It's too much, it's not enough, you need more, you need him to ruin you.

"Dick," you gasp, clutching at his arms, nails digging into his skin, body shaking against his.

And he knows.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, his voice soothing, his fingers pressing a little firmer, rubbing a little faster, his dick grinding deep, grinding right against that spot that makes you sob. "You gonna cum for me?"

And well, you can't stop it. The thick stretch of him, the way he splits you open, the way you still struggle to take him, even after all this time, like your pussy was made for him, like it's still adjusting, still molding around his dick every time he fucks you.

And God, the curve of him—it drives you crazy. The way it presses against every sensitive spot inside you, the way it drags so deep, so perfect, the way he angles his hips just right, making you shudder, making your breath hitch, making you feel everything.

He knows exactly what he's doing, knows exactly how to fuck you, knows exactly how to make you fall apart, and he loves it.

Loves feeling your pussy squeeze around him, loves how wet you are, how slick and messy and slippery, loves how your little whimpers turn into breathless moans, how your whole body trembles against him, how you fucking lose yourself on his dick.

And God, he loves his girl. Loves how you take him, loves how you want him, loves the way you beg, the way you moan, the way you don't care where you are, don't care if anyone sees, don't care about anything except how good he makes you feel.

Your whole body shudders, your pussy pulses, squeezing his dick, making a mess, your slick coating him, soaking his thighs, your legs shaking as the pleasure crashes over you, deep and wet and sloppy, and Dick groans, because you feel so fucking good.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, groaning against your skin as he fucks you through it, slow and deep, letting you feel it, letting you ride it out, letting your cunt milk his dick, squeezing him tight, making him throb. "There we go, pretty girl. Just like that. Just like that, baby."

And you sob, your body wracked with pleasure, your pussy clenching around his dick, dragging out every slow, sweet second of your orgasm. But it's not enough.

Your whole body is still buzzing, your nerves lit up, your thighs shaking, your breath coming in gasps, your heart hammering, and you want more, you need more, you need him.

"More," you whimper, voice needy, breathless, head falling back against his shoulder as you beg, "I want more, please—"

And he gives it to you, no hesitation. Because he loves fucking you. Loves fucking you however you want, however you need. But like this? Slow and lazy, rolling his hips into you, feeling every little shiver, every little whimper, making sure you feel it, making sure you take it?

Yeah, this is his favorite.

Because God, you're so good for him. And he's gonna make sure you know it. And it's sloppy, messy and wet, the sounds of it obscene, your slick coating him, making every thrust loud, making his dick glisten every time he pulls back, only to sink back into you, thick and hot and deep.

And it's so good. Your body trembling, your legs weak, his arms strong around you, keeping you in place, keeping you right where he wants you, right where you need to be. And his voice—low and rough and wrecked against your ear, telling you how good you feel, how tight you are, how fucking perfect.

"God, baby," he groans, sucking a mark into your throat, hand slipping down between your legs again, fingers teasing your clit, circling it slow, firm, right in time with the slow drag of his dick. "You're so wet, fuck—dripping all over me, you hear that?"

And God, you do. You hear everything.

The slick, obscene sounds of your pussy, the wet slap of his hips against your ass, the breathless little moans spilling from your lips, the low, deep groans of his own, rumbling through his chest, against your back, sending a shiver down your spine.

And he knows you're close again, knows your body too well, knows the way you tense, the way your walls flutter around his dick, knows the way your little gasps turn breathless, shaky—knows exactly how to push you over the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he breathes, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit, just enough, just right, pressing harder, thrusting deeper, fucking you slow and deep and so, so good.

With a sharp, broken gasp, your whole body locks up, pussy tightening, squeezing down hard around him, and he groans, breath shuddering, arms tightening around you as he fucks you through it, lets you ride it out, lets you lose yourself on his dick, lets you drown in it. And God, you do.

The pleasure hitting you in waves, crashing over you, rolling through you, heat rushing down your spine, leaving you wrecked, leaving you gasping, shaking, still grinding back against him, because you need more, need him, need everything.

And he gives it to you. Because of course he does. He's a giver, always has been, always will be, and he's still so fucking hard inside you.

Still throbbing, still fucking you slow, dragging every last bit of pleasure out of you, making sure you feel everything.

Every inch of his dick, every curve, every ridge and vein, every pulse, every slow, deep thrust—

And you're still so needy.

Still desperate, still trembling, still aching for more, still chasing it, rolling your hips back against him, moaning softly, pleading without words. And fuck, he loves it. Loves how much you want him, how much you need him, loves how good you are for him, how perfect.

And God, he wants to cum inside you. Even though he always does, even though he always pumps you full, he still fucking wants it, still needs to hear you say it, and he knows you will. Because you love it.

So when he whispers, "You want my cum?"

You fucking whimper. Nod frantically, grinding back against him, breathless, desperate, murmuring, "Yes, baby, please, I need it."

That's all he needs. All he ever fucking needs. And then he gives it to you.

A little harder, a little faster, hips snapping against your ass, dick fucking into you, long and deep, chasing his release, groaning against your neck, panting against your skin, moaning your name.

And it wrecks you.

The way he moans for you, the way he fucks you so deep, the way his body tenses, muscles flexing, his arms strong around you, the way his hand stays between your legs, the way he presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing slow, firm, so fucking good.

And you cum again. Sharp and sudden and overwhelming, moaning so loud, your whole body locking up, pussy pulsing, squeezing tight around his dick. And fuck, he loses it. Groaning loud, moaning into your neck, his hips stutter, slamming deep one last time as his body shudders against yours.

His dick throbs, pulsing, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your cunt, filling you up just the way you love. It's so much, so hot, spilling deep, coating your walls, and you whimper, arching against him, squeezing him tighter like you can't get enough.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, voice wrecked, his breath ragged against your skin. "You feel that?"

You do. You feel every hot pulse, every slick, messy drip of his cum inside you. Your pussy flutters, clenching down on him, milking every last drop from his still-twitching dick, greedily keeping him inside.

His hands flex on your hips, keeping you steady, keeping you in place, and he swears under his breath as he feels you squeezing him like that, like you never want to let him go. His cum seeps out in slow, sticky dribbles, slicking your thighs, but he doesn't pull out, not yet.

He presses his body flush against yours, murmuring, "Fuck, I love filling you up, baby. Love keeping you full of me."

And God, you love it too. Love the heat of it, love the way it fills you up, love the way it spills out, love the way he gasps, the way his whole body shudders. Love how fucking wrecked he is, how fucking gone he is, how fucking perfect he makes you feel.

His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you back against him, his dick slipping deeper, pushing his cum further inside your pussy. His breath is hot against your skin as he groans, the sound rough and needy, matching the way his hands spread you open, watching the way your slick, mixed with his release, coats his length as he slides in and out.

"Fuck, baby, look at that," he murmurs, voice thick with lust, his thumbs digging into your hips as he pulls you back onto his cock, each thrust just a little rougher, just a little filthier.

His eyes are locked on the way your cunt clenches around him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. "You love this, don't you?" he murmurs, dragging his fingers up your spine, making you arch for him. "Love when I fuck you full, keep you dripping, keep you messy for me."

Your moans are desperate, hands gripping onto the cool metal of his bike as he pounds into you, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body.

The way he stretches you open, the thick curve of his dick hitting deep, brushing against that sweet, sensitive spot inside you over and over, has your mind spinning. Every time he moves, you feel him pressing against your walls, filling you so completely, so perfectly, you can barely breathe. His hands slide up your waist, one reaching between your legs to rub slow, teasing circles against your swollen clit.

"Gotta make you cum again, baby," he groans, his thrusts getting rougher, his fingers pressing just right, his name tumbling from your lips in breathless moans.

Your pussy tightens around him, your walls fluttering, the pleasure building so fast it makes you dizzy. You whimper his name, your legs shaking, pleasure curling deep in your belly as he fucks you through it, his voice coaxing you over the edge.

"That's it, pretty girl. Give it to me. Show me how good it feels."

Your orgasm crashes over you, and he doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps fucking you through it, his fingers still rubbing, his dick still stretching you, filling you, making it last until you can't take it. Your body trembles, your voice breaking as you gasp for air, the pleasure so intense you can barely hold yourself up.

Your pussy clenches tight around him, throbbing, squeezing, so slick and swollen, overstimulated, every nerve sparking like a live wire. Your whole body quivers, and you let out a desperate, broken whimper, feeling the wet, messy squelch of his dick sliding in and out, pushing his own cum even deeper. It's too much, too good, your thighs shaking, your breath catching, your skin hot and damp.

And he still isn't done.

He grips your hips, fucking into you deeper, his pace relentless, chasing another release. "Gonna fill you up again, baby," he groans, his voice thick with lust, his body tense against yours. "Gonna pump you so full you feel me dripping down your thighs. You want that, don't you?"

You nod frantically, moaning, begging, "Yes, baby, please, I need it."

That's all it takes.

He groans, deep and raw, his pace getting erratic, desperate. His hands grip you tighter, pulling you onto his cock, thrusting deep, fast, his breath ragged, moans spilling into your ear as he finally snaps, spilling inside you with a low, filthy groan.

You shudder as the heat of it spreads through you, the way he throbs inside making you whimper, your walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop. He stays buried deep, breathing hard against your skin, his hands smoothing over your waist, your stomach, possessive and tender.

"Fuck," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder, his hands still gripping you tight. "You take it so good, baby. So fucking good for me."

And even as he catches his breath, he rocks into you just a little more, just to feel how perfectly you fit around him, how fucking good you feel when you're full of his cum.

Your whole body shudders, wrecked from the pleasure, from the way he's fucked you so good and so deep, left you trembling, sobbing, barely able to keep yourself standing. Your knees threaten to buckle, but you don't fall—because he's there.

Strong and steady behind you, his chest warm against your back, his hands firm as they hold you up, keeping you in place while his dick still pulses faintly inside you. He's still so deep, still stretching you out, his cum thick and leaking from where he’s buried, seeping out slow, messy, coating your inner thighs in sticky warmth.

"Shhh, I've got you, baby," he murmurs, lips brushing against the back of your neck as he presses soft kisses there, slow and sweet, shushing you gently while his hands smooth over your waist. His thumbs rub comforting circles into your overheated skin, grounding you, letting you come back to yourself. "Breathe for me, love. You okay?"

You sniffle, body still shaking as you nod, and he lets out a quiet little chuckle, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, the damp curve of your cheek.

"So good for me," he praises, his voice all soft and warm, wrapping around you like something safe.

He stays like that, just holding you, keeping you steady while your heart slows, while your body catches up to itself, while your mind drifts back from the haze of pleasure. His chin comes to rest on your shoulder, and he sighs, deep and content, letting his hands settle at your hips, thumbs stroking lazy, soothing lines over your skin.

After a while, he murmurs, "Ready to head back home and let me clean you up, baby?"

You hum, nodding sluggishly, all soft and spent, and the sound you make when he finally—finally—pulls out is a wrecked little whimper, a shuddering gasp as you feel the way he leaves you empty.

He kisses your cheek, murmuring, "I'm sorry, my love," because he knows how sensitive you are, how raw and used you feel, even as his cum spills out of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs in thick, messy trails.

And the sight of it nearly ruins him.

His hands flex at your hips, and he has to force himself not to do it—not to spread you open and push it back inside, because that's exactly where it belongs, inside your pretty little pussy, keeping you full, making sure it stays. He bites his lip, exhaling hard, but then you shiver, and he blinks out of it, groaning softly as he tucks himself back into his sweatpants before sliding your panties and leggings back up.

You turn in his arms, sluggish, needy, clinging to him with tired limbs, and he lets you. He wraps you up tight, tucks you against his chest, his chin resting against the top of your head as he whispers, "I've got you, baby. It's okay. We'll be home soon, yeah?"

You nod, nuzzling against him, eyes heavy, body still trembling faintly in the aftermath, and he smiles, cupping the back of your head, stroking his fingers through your hair before he helps you back onto his bike. He makes sure you're settled, hands firm at your waist as you swing your leg over, and he knows.

He knows exactly what you feel when your panties, full of his cum, press up against your still-sensitive cunt, the slick warmth rubbing against you, making you suck in a sharp little breath as you shift against the seat.

His fingers squeeze at your hips, and his voice is low, teasing as he murmurs, "Feel that, baby?"

You bite your lip, nodding, and his grin turns wicked, but he doesn't push, doesn't tease you any more than that. He just pulls your arms around his waist, making sure you're snug against him, and then he starts the bike, the low rumble vibrating through you as he takes off, heading home.

And the whole way back, he's thinking about the mess between your legs, about the way you feel pressed up against him, warm and soft and still twitching slightly with aftershocks. His grip tightens on the handlebars, and he exhales hard through his nose, resisting the urge to push the speed higher, to get home faster, to lay you out and do it all over again.

But tonight—tonight he just wants to clean you up, wrap you in one of his t-shirts, and kiss your pretty face. By the time you make it home, you're already half-asleep against his back, your arms slack around his waist, your cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

He smiles as he parks, turning the engine off before squeezing your thigh, murmuring, "Baby, we're home."

You make a soft, sleepy sound, nuzzling against him, and his heart clenches at how sweet you are. He doesn't even make you move, just swings off the bike before helping you down, steadying you when your legs wobble. You blink up at him, dazed and adorable, and he can't help himself—he cups your face in both hands and kisses you, soft and lingering, his thumbs stroking along your cheekbones.

"Let's get you inside, love," he murmurs against your lips.

But as soon as you take a step, your legs nearly give out, and he's got you before you can even think about falling. A small chuckle rumbles from his chest, warm and fond.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Without another word, he bends slightly and scoops you up into his arms, holding you close as he carries you inside. You don't protest, just tuck your face against his neck, breathing him in, the heat of his skin, the lingering scent of leather and the night air. He walks up the stairs effortlessly, like you weigh nothing, like holding you is the most natural thing in the world.

In the bathroom, he sets you down gently, keeping his hands on your waist until he’s sure you're steady. "Let's get you cleaned up, baby," he says, voice soft as he reaches in to turn on the shower, letting the water warm up.

Then he's undressing you, peeling away your clothes with slow, careful hands, pressing kisses to each inch of skin he reveals. You're already blinking sleepily at him, and that little pout he loves so much starts to form on your lips—unconscious, drowsy, so sweet it makes his chest ache. He smiles, running his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in to kiss it.

"My sweet, pouty girl," he murmurs against your mouth, teasing but impossibly fond.

He undresses too before stepping into the shower with you, guiding you under the warm spray. You sigh at the heat, your body melting against his as you press close, clinging to him with sleepy hands. He chuckles, smoothing his hands down your back, keeping you steady against him.

"You're so cute like this," he says, pressing a kiss to your damp hair.

He washes you both with slow, careful hands, massaging the shampoo into your scalp, rubbing gentle circles along your body, making sure to clean every inch of you. You hum softly as his fingers trace along your skin, your arms still wrapped around him, like you don't want to let go even for a second. Not that he minds—he loves when you get clingy like this, all warm and soft in his arms.

Once you're both clean, he turns the water off and grabs a towel, wrapping you up before lifting you into his arms again. You make a tiny noise of protest, burying your face in his chest, and he laughs, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

"I know, baby. I've got you."

He dries you off gently, warm towel brushing over your skin as he murmurs quiet, loving words—praises, reassurances, things he knows will soothe you further. Once you're warm and dry, he tugs one of his t-shirts over your head, letting it swallow you up, before guiding a clean pair of panties up your legs.

He loves you in his clothes—loves how small you look in them, how the fabric drapes over you, hanging loose on your frame. There's something about it, about you wrapped up in something that's his, that makes his chest ache, that makes him want to pull you close and never let go.

"There we go," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "All set, my love."

Then he's picking you up again, carrying you into the bedroom, and laying you down in bed before sliding in beside you. You immediately curl into him, nuzzling into his chest, your legs tangling with his, your body molding against him like you were made to fit right there. His arms come around you, holding you close, one hand smoothing over your back, the other rubbing gentle circles into your hip.

He kisses your face—your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the soft curve of your jaw—until he feels your body fully relax against him, your breathing slowing, your fingers stilling where they'd been tracing over his skin.

"Sleep, sweet girl," he whispers, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

You sigh softly, nuzzling closer, your body warm and pliant in his arms. Your voice is barely more than a whisper, drowsy and sweet, as you murmur, "Love you so much, baby."

His chest tightens at how soft you sound, how utterly at peace you are in his arms. He tucks the blankets around you, making sure you're wrapped up and comfortable, then presses another kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment.

"I love you too," he whispers against your skin, his voice low, full of warmth, full of everything he feels for you.

You hum in response, already slipping deeper into sleep, your breath warm against his chest. He watches you for a few moments longer, running his fingers gently through your hair, before closing his eyes and letting himself relax too, holding you close through the night.

[thehmn]

I’ll never get over two friends who live in my village. One of them seems to be paralyzed from the neck down in some capacity and has a very fancy wheelchair but by god that doesn’t stop them from going on adventures.

I’ve seen them speeding down the main road with the other friend either riding a bike or holding on tight while standing on the back of the wheelchair (once I overheard the walking friend say “We won’t make it to the bus” and the other one just said “Jump on” and they were off) and sometimes they attach a wagon to the back of the wheelchair and haul huge loads of stuff from place to place. They are getting their money’s worth out of that chair.

I love living in a small community so much sometimes. We might not have anything besides a store, a pizzeria and a hairdresser but people here are so fun. Other highlights are of course the hipster who’s out with his metal detector at night and an emo or goth couple who doesn’t force their style on their young daughter so she’s always wearing bright pink clothes and they all look adorable together.

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (final)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 13.4k+

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: protected sex, oral (f. receiving), mentions of hospital, stitches, wounds, injuries, scars, angst (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: wow, i can’t believe my first-ever series is finally over. it’s been almost two months since i started this, and you guys have shown me immense love and support for this story—something i’ll forever be grateful for. a part of me feels sad to let go of these characters, but i think i’ll be coming back with a few drabbles every now and then.

i truly hope you’re satisfied with the ending, and i hope reading this series brought you comfort the same way writing it brought comfort to me. thank you so much to everyone who stuck around until the very end. stay tuned for more of my work. also HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYSSSS i hope all of you have the best year ahead. love you guys <3

final: garden of the open road

"Or maybe you should get her flowers!!" Hoseok chimes, his tone bright and optimistic as he leans over the workbench, twirling a wrench in his hand like he’s just unlocked the secret to the universe. "I mean, flowers solve everything, right?" His grin is infectious, lighting up his entire face as he glances between Jungkook and Jimin for validation.

Jimin, lounging across from him with a barely concealed look of skepticism, raises an eyebrow. "Come on, Hyung. Y/n owns a flower shop. Do you really think giving her flowers would be anything other than redundant? That’s like giving a baker bread... or... or a mechanic spare tires. Think it through." He crosses his arms, leaning back smugly as if he’s already won the debate.

Jungkook remains silent, his attention absorbed by the bike in front of him, polishing it. The rhythmic motion of his cloth on the metal feels almost meditative, but inside, a storm brews.

It's been a week since you stormed out of his shop, and the silence between the two of you has only amplified the weight of his regret. Every word that Yoongi had said to him echoes in his mind... Yoongi's disappointment, his advice, and his harsh yet caring words.

He knows now, with absolute clarity, that he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing. Avoiding, running, pushing you away... it was never just about protecting you, it was also about his own fears. And Yoongi was right... he needs to stay. To show you, not just with words but with actions, that he’s in this. Fully. Wholeheartedly.

Meanwhile, Hoseok and Jimin continue their back-and-forth, brainstorming creative suggestions for Jungkook to make it up to you.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, his thoughts spiraling as he grapples with how to make things right and undo the damage he’s caused. He’s been giving you space, knowing you probably need time to cool off.

But he can’t stop himself from wondering. How are you holding up? Are your wounds healing? Are you still angry with him? Do you still hate him? The questions gnaw at him relentlessly, each one heavier than the last.

Every moment without you feels like a thousand lifetimes, and the weight of his inaction is suffocating. His silence, his avoidance… it’s all been one colossal mistake. He loves you too much to keep fumbling this, and after you poured your heart out to him like that, doing nothing would only cement the fact that he’s the biggest idiot on the planet.

Yoongi was right. Jungkook needs to be with you, not just in the easy moments but in the tough ones, too. He needs to be the person who gives you peace, not the one who makes you question everything.

As Jungkook continues his silent contemplation, Hoseok and Jimin’s bickering grows louder, their voices rising as they try to outdo each other in the "perfect apology to Y/n" department.

The two suddenly pause when the sound of the shop door opening cuts through their debate. All three heads snap towards the entrance, and they see Yoongi walking in, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

He cracks his neck, adjusts his shoulders, and strides towards Jungkook. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pair of keys, and tosses them at Jungkook.

Still seated by the bike, Jungkook barely manages to catch them with his greasy hands. He looks down at the keys, confusion flickering across his face. “You… you got my bike back?” he asks, his voice laced with disbelief, his brows furrowing as he lifts his gaze to Yoongi. “Hyung… how did you—?”

Before he can finish, Yoongi shakes his head, cutting him off with a raised hand. “You don’t have to worry about it.” he says, his tone firm. “Just focus on making things right with Y/n. And listen to me carefully... don’t even think about getting involved with Mingyu again. I’m serious, Jungkook. No second chances there.”

The warning in Yoongi’s voice is enough to make Jungkook nod, a mix of gratitude and guilt bubbling in his chest. Yoongi’s sharp gaze briefly sweeps over Hoseok and Jimin, and with a subtle nod in their direction, he turns and heads towards the storeroom.

“Damn, Yoongi-hyung is so cool.” Jimin mutters under his breath, sounding almost awestruck.

“Anyways, like I was saying…” Hoseok begins again, picking up right where they left off, as though the brief interruption never happened. In no time, the two are back at it, listing an increasingly sappy and downright cringey array of suggestions for how Jungkook could apologize to you, the ideas growing more and more outrageous by the second.

Jungkook shakes his head, tuning them out as he looks down at the keys in his hand. He knows that none of their over-the-top plans will work. If he wants to make things right with you, he has to do it his own way... authentic, heartfelt, and real.

He needs to let you know how much he cares, how much he wants you in his life, and how deeply he loves you. No grand gestures or flashy displays. Just him, making it right.

As the minutes tick by, Jungkook finishes working on the bike in front of him. He wipes his hands clean, his mind already racing with thoughts of how to approach you. Just as he’s about to step away from the bike, the shop door creaks open again, drawing everyone’s attention.

This time, it’s Mr. Kwon, the town head, stepping inside. “Hey, boys.” he greets warmly, his gaze sweeping across Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook. Yoongi steps out, emerging from the storeroom and raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Oh, Mr. Kwon…” Yoongi says, folding his arms as he leans casually against the wall. “What brings you here today?”

“Ah, nothing too pressing.” Mr. Kwon replies calmly as he fixes his suit. “I just wanted to inform you boys about the meeting at the townhall this Friday. The agenda is to discuss the upcoming community drive-in movie night that will be happening on Sunday. It’s an annual event we do for fun and fundraising.”

“A drive-in movie night?” Hoseok’s eyes light up, leaning forward with genuine excitement. “I didn’t even know we did things like that around here! That sounds amazing.”

“It’s one of our most cherished traditions.” Mr. Kwon explains with a nod. “We set up a big screen on the old field just past Main Street. Everyone gathers in their cars, bring snacks, and enjoy the movie under the stars. It’s also a way to raise money for community projects. Last year, the proceeds went towards renovating the public library.”

“Oh wow, that sounds amazing!” Jimin chimes in, his tone enthusiastic. “Do people suggest the movie beforehand, or do you just pick something classic?”

“We like to keep it democratic.” Mr. Kwon replies with a chuckle. “That's why there's a meeting. People pitch ideas, and then we take a vote. It keeps everyone involved and ensures we pick something most people will enjoy. Last year, it was Back to the Future. Quite a hit.” he explains and the boys nod, giving him approved hums.

“So it would be great if you boys showed up on Friday.” he adds, glancing around at the group. “We could all sit down and decide what to watch together.”

“Of course, Mr. Kwon. We’ll be there.” Yoongi says with a small smile, straightening up from his casual stance. Hoseok and Jimin eagerly nod in agreement, their excitement evident. “Well then, I’ll see you all on Friday.” Mr. Kwon says warmly, before stepping out of the shop.

As the door shuts close, the shop falls into a brief silence. Jungkook, who has been standing still the whole time, listening to the exchange without a word, finally moves. He steps away from the bike and towards the counter, his expression thoughtful.

The town meeting. He wonders if you’ve heard about it too and the idea of you being there stirs a mix of anticipation and unease in him. Just the thought of seeing you, after everything, makes his chest tighten and his head spin.

//

"So, you're gonna go back to the shop from next week?" Seokjin asks, gently placing the dinner he just prepared onto your small dining table. His voice is calm, but the concern in his eyes flickers as they briefly land on your bandaged hand.

You nod, offering a faint smile. “Yeah. I can’t just sit at home any longer.” you reply.

You’ve just returned from the hospital with your friends after getting the stitches removed from your head. You glance down at your hand, where the injury is slowly starting to heal.

Thanks to Taehyung and Namjoon, the repairs of your shop have been completed... each detail meticulously taken care of, with them keeping you informed every step of the way.

Over the past week, your friends have been your unwavering support. They’ve cooked for you, comforted you, and stayed by your side, especially after you opened up about everything that happened with Jungkook. They didn’t have all the right words, truth be told, there weren’t any, but their presence alone was enough to carry you through.

You’re not okay, not completely. But you’ve begun to accept the harsh reality that maybe… just maybe… things with Jungkook aren’t meant to be.

That thought cuts deep, especially considering how he hasn’t reached out since that moment. Perhaps you were too harsh, too out of line when you called him a coward, even though all he wanted to do was protect you.

Yet, a part of you still feels a seething anger. You miss him, more than you care to admit and the emotional storm inside you leaves you confused, raw, and aching.

"Also..." Taehyung starts, catching your attention as you glance at him from across the table. "Mr. Kwon called all of us for a meeting at the townhall this Friday." he says, his voice steady but with a hint of excitement. Juwon nods in agreement. "Yeah. It's about the drive-in movie night." she adds.

You’ve known about the drive-in movie night for a while, and you expected it to happen soon, just like it always did every year. When things became official between you and Jungkook, you’d often daydreamed about the two of you sitting together in a car, hands intertwined, sharing pretzels and popcorn while watching a movie.

You never mentioned it to him. It was just one of those scenarios you let your mind wander to. But now, that dream feels like a bitter memory, especially with how things ended between you and him.

Still, despite everything, you know you want to attend. You’ve always enjoyed participating in these fundraising events with the people of your town, and the thought of missing out doesn’t sit well with you. "Will you be coming?" Namjoon asks carefully, his gaze soft and understanding.

You smile at him, your heart a little lighter, and nod. "Of course. Let’s all go to the meeting together." you say, glancing around at your friends.

//

Friday sneaks up on you, and before you know it, you, Juwon, and Taehyung are strutting down the pavement towards the townhall. Juwon has her arm looped through yours, clinging tightly to you like a koala. “It’s freezing!” she whines, shivering dramatically.

“It’s not that bad.” Taehyung says, hands in his pockets. “You’re just overly dramatic.” he shrugs. “Says the guy who wears four layers when it’s below 20 degrees.” Juwon fires back.

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse you, I’m fashionably layered, thank you. There’s a difference.”

The chilly banter keeps you distracted until you step inside the townhall. Almost immediately, Mrs. Han spots you. “Y/n!” she exclaims, rushing over. Before you can blink, she’s holding your arms and scrutinizing your face like a worried mom.

“How are you, dear? My goodness, look at this scar. Oh, those boys! Nasty, nasty boys!!” she huffs, her face scrunching in outrage. You smile weakly, trying to reassure her. “I’m doing better now, Mrs. Han. Really.”

She shakes her head, unconvinced. “Better? Better?! I heard they just had to pay a fine. A fine! That’s like paying for parking after committing a hit-and-run. Absolutely ridiculous! I hope karma runs over them with a dump truck.”

Juwon chimes in, nodding furiously. “Preferably a truck full of cow poop.” she says and Mrs. Han agrees with her, her expression serious. You bite back a laugh, trying to keep it together. “Thank you, Mrs. Han. I appreciate your concern.”

As you inch away, you pass more familiar faces, each one stopping to check on you. The flood of questions and well-meaning outrage is almost too much, but you manage to navigate through the crowd and find Namjoon and Seokjin, who’ve saved seats for all of you.

You plop down in the chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve survived the auntie inquisition.” you say. Namjoon chuckles. “You’re braver than I am. Mrs. Han once interrogated me for twenty minutes about why I don’t eat enough spinach.”

Seokjin smirks. “Spinach is important. Haven’t you seen Popeye?” Before you can retort, Taehyung slides into his seat. “So, what movie are we voting for? I say Shrek. It’s a masterpiece.” he says. Juwon groans. “Taehyung, not everything can be solved with ogres.”

“First of all....” he replies, raising a finger. “Shrek is a cinematic masterpiece. Second of all, it’s funny, heartwarming, and has layers. It’s perfect.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I’m betting on something classic, like Forrest Gump. You know, a movie that makes you think about life.”

Seokjin snorts. “More like a movie that makes you think about shrimp. Shrimp gumbo, shrimp soup, shrimp salad…” he says as Taehyung giggles. “Okay, but what about Mean Girls?” Juwon suggests. “Everyone needs a little high school drama now and then.”

“Oh my god... I can quote that entire movie.” you add with a grin. “So fetch.” you say, winking at your friends. Taehyung dramatically raises an eyebrow. “Stop trying to make fetch happen. It’s not going to happen.” he beams and the group bursts out laughing, and for the first time in a while, you feel a little lighter.

While you and your friends continue to laugh, Jungkook lingers by the entrance of the townhall, his gaze fixed on you. He notices the absence of the bandage around your head, the way your laughter fills the room, and the brightness in your smile that feels almost contagious.

It’s such a stark contrast to the image burned into his mind from a week ago... your pain, your tears and though he knows he isn’t the reason for that smile or your happiness, he feels a quiet relief seeing you like this.

“Stop staring.” Jimin’s voice cuts through his thoughts, low and teasing. He nudges Jungkook with his shoulder, breaking his trance. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“I wasn’t staring.” Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sure, sure.” Jimin retorts with a smirk, gesturing towards the hall. “Now move, loverboy. People are trying to get in.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook steps further inside. As he walks past your group, your laughter rings out again, soft and warm. It tugs at something deep inside him, bittersweet and impossible to ignore. He glances at you briefly, the temptation to linger overwhelming, but you or none of your friends notice him. Maybe that’s for the best.

He follows Jimin, Hoseok and Yoongi to the back, where they quietly settle into one of the last rows. Slumping into his seat, Jungkook sneaks another glance your way.

You’re surrounded by your friends, immersed in their lively chatter, and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself just observe. Seeing you like this... laughing, smiling... is somehow enough to ease the ache in his chest, even if he’s not the reason behind your happiness.

For now, that will have to be enough, at least until he musters up the courage to finally talk to you.

Eventually, Mr. Kwon steps onto the dais, commanding the room's attention with his usual calm authority. He begins the meeting, and as expected, what follows is a spirited and seemingly endless debate about which movie to screen for the drive-in event this Sunday.

Suggestions fly across the room, each met with enthusiastic agreements or vehement objections. Some champion a nostalgic classic, while others argue for something modern and thrilling.

The discussion grows lively, with raised hands, animated gestures, and occasional laughter rippling through the crowd. Mr. Kwon, ever the patient mediator, lets the town hash it out, his steady gaze sweeping over the sea of opinions.

Eventually, a consensus is reached... a fun, family friendly timeless classic that everyone agrees will be perfect: The Parent Trap. Satisfied murmurs fill the air as Mr. Kwon finalizes the details, his booming voice carrying over the low hum of excitement.

As the meeting concludes, the energy in the room begins to shift. People gradually drift towards the exits, chatting in clusters as they wrap up their conversations.

Your friends are caught up in their own moments. Namjoon stands by the side, deep in conversation with the grandpa from the bookstore, their voices low and amiable. Taehyung and Juwon hover near Mrs. Han, listening intently as she animatedly recounts some anecdote. Seokjin, ever the comedian, laughs with one of the local kids at the back.

You find yourself standing quietly amid the bustle, a small pocket of stillness in the lively atmosphere. You have the sudden urge to take a moment for yourself, just to step out and catch a breather.

The noise and movement of the hall fade into the background as you quietly slip towards the door, seeking the cool embrace of the evening air.

You walk carefully away from the town hall, the faint hum of voices and laughter fading behind you. The soft glow of the streetlights reflects off the pavement, casting long, quiet shadows that stretch into the night.

Eventually, you spot a bench nestled under a tree, just far enough from the hall to feel secluded but close enough to hear the occasional burst of laughter from the remaining crowd.

Without hesitation, you make your way towards it, the crisp evening air brushing against your skin. Taking a seat, you lean back, exhaling slowly as you let the weight of the day settle over you.

Despite the lively meeting and the buzz of energy around you earlier, your mind has been elsewhere, caught in an endless loop of memories and emotions. Back at the meeting, while the townsfolk were fervently debating over the movie choices, your gaze had wandered... and landed on him.

Jungkook was sitting at the back, his figure partially hidden behind the other people. At first, you weren’t even sure it was him, but when you caught sight of his side profile, the way his hair framed his face, you knew. For a fleeting moment, your eyes lingered on him, drawn like a magnet.

You don’t know if he noticed you, he gave no sign that he did. But just seeing him was enough to stir something deep within you... a longing you’ve tried so hard to bury.

The memories, the outburst, the ache of everything, all of it came rushing back with a vengeance. You miss him. Not just in the quiet moments when you’re alone but even in a room full of people, with laughter and chatter all around, you still miss him. So much.

A soft sigh escapes your lips as you close your eyes, surrendering to the quiet embrace of the evening. The breeze whispers across your skin, cool and gentle, carrying with it the faint scent of the earth after dusk.

Above you, the leaves sway softly, their rustling a rhythmic lullaby that contrasts with the chaos unraveling in your mind. Thoughts you’ve tried to bury rise to the surface, each one heavier than the last. You let them swirl and settle, the weight of them pressing against your chest.

For a brief moment, you allow yourself to simply feel, untangling the knots of emotions that have been wound too tightly for too long. Then, the faintest shift in the air pulls you back. It’s subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but it grows... the unmistakable presence of someone nearby.

Your eyelids flutter open, hesitant, as if you’re afraid of shattering the fragile stillness around you. When your gaze shifts to the side, your breath catches.

Jungkook stands a few feet away, the soft street light casting delicate shadows across his face. His expression is unreadable at first, but his eyes… they speak volumes. They hold a hesitance, a yearning, and something deeper... something that pulls at the threads of your heart.

You blink slowly, your pulse quickening. “Y/n…” he murmurs, your name falling from his lips as though it’s a prayer, fragile and reverent, laden with everything he can’t say.

The sound of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and instinctively, you look away, unable to meet his gaze. The emotions surging within you feel like too much... sharp, raw, overwhelming.

Without a second thought, you rise from the bench, the sudden need to put distance between you and him overtaking all reason.

You move quickly, your feet carrying you past him. The weight of his presence feels unbearable... the memories, the words exchanged, the vulnerability you showed him, all crashing over you like waves. Each step you take feels like an attempt to outrun the past, to escape the heaviness that standing before him seems to evoke.

But Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Before you can get far, his hand reaches out, firm yet gentle, catching your wrist. His fingers curl around it, his touch warm and grounding. “Wait…” he says, his voice louder now, tinged with desperation. You freeze, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Jungkook stares at the back of your head, his breath shallow, his heart drumming in his ears. The warmth of your skin beneath his fingers feels like a tether, keeping him steady even as his emotions threaten to overwhelm him.

“Please…” he repeats, softer this time, his voice cracking as though each word costs him something. There’s a vulnerability in his tone, a rawness that slices through the storm in your mind and roots you in place.

You don’t turn around. The silence stretches, settling heavily between you. You feel his hand slip from your wrist, the absence of his touch as startling as its presence.

For a moment, you hear nothing but the faint rustling of leaves and the distant hum of life in the town. Then, his footsteps draw closer. “Y/n…” he says again, his voice steady but achingly tender. “Would you please look at me?”

You take a deep breath, your chest tightening as you will yourself to move, to do something but your body refuses to obey. You remain still, a statue carved from conflicting emotions, unable to summon the strength to face him.

Feelings of embarrassment and awkwardness surge through your veins because, frankly, you don’t know how to look him in the eye after the way you unraveled last week.

But beneath the vulnerability lies another emotion... a flicker of anger. A part of you is still just a tiny bit mad at him, for how he handled everything. For the way he didn’t show up when you needed him most, for the way he shut you out when all you wanted was to be let in.

And now, standing here, completely unprepared and caught in the unrelenting pull of his gaze, you feel trapped. The hurt, the resentment, the yearning... they all collide within you, creating a maelstrom of emotions that leaves you frozen.

So, you do nothing. You let the silence hang, your feet rooted to the ground as you wrestle with the chaos inside.

Minutes pass, or perhaps it’s only seconds... time feels warped, stretched thin under the weight of the silence. And then, suddenly, you feel his arms carefully snake around your waist, the movement almost hesitant, as though he’s unsure of his place.

Your breath hitches as he gently pulls you back, his chest pressing firmly against your back. His warmth envelops you, seeping into your skin, and his breath grazes the curve of your neck, soft and uneven, carrying with it the weight of emotions he can’t put into words. There’s a fragility in his touch, a silent plea, as if he fears that holding on too tightly might cross a line.

Your body stiffens at the contact, every nerve igniting under the intensity of his presence. His touch burns through you like a fire, its heat both searing and soothing, a contradiction that leaves you reeling. For a second, you sway on the edge of surrender, the thought of leaning into him tugging at the corners of your mind.

“Y/n…” he whispers, your name tumbling from his lips, heavy with sorrow and regret. His voice quivers, faltering as the words fight their way out. “Please, just… just give me a chance to explain myself. I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m sorry... sorry for everything.” he says, his tone raw and husky, cracking under the weight of his emotions.

You feel his arms tighten around you, as if afraid you might slip away. The grip is firm yet tender, grounding yet fragile, and you close your eyes, surrendering—if only for a moment—to the storm of emotions stirring within you. Almost involuntarily, you lean into him, your body finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

Time seems to still as you stay there, the world outside fading into an indistinct hum. Slowly, your hand rises, hesitating before it rests gently on top of his where it rests on your stomach.

You inhale deeply, the steady rhythm of his breath against your shoulder grounding you, even as your heart pounds furiously against your ribcage.

For now, you allow yourself this momentary indulgence... to bask in the bittersweet safety of his hold, the unspoken solace of his touch, and the ache of longing that lingers between you.

“You could’ve reached out…” you whisper, but it cuts through the stillness. Jungkook stiffens behind you, his grip faltering ever so slightly at the sound of your voice. “You could’ve called, you could’ve texted…” you continue, your words trembling under the weight of everything.

Slowly, you flutter your eyes open, the reality of the moment settling in like a quiet storm. “But you didn’t, Jungkook.”

He says nothing, his silence deafening, and for a second, the unspoken emotions between you feel suffocating.

Then, as if the universe conspires to tear you apart, your phone buzzes in your pocket. The sharp vibration feels like a cruel reminder of the world waiting outside this fragile moment. You don’t even check the screen... you know it’s probably one of your friends, calling to ask where you disappeared to.

You seize the interruption as an excuse. Gently, with the hand that rests on his, you grasp his wrist and peel his arms away, stepping out of his hold. “I… I have to go.” you say, your voice barely holding steady as you take a step forward.

You don’t turn to face him... you can’t. If you do, you know you’ll crumble under the weight of his gaze, those deep, expressive eyes.

You pause for a moment, teetering on the edge of staying, of turning back. The urge to look at him, to search his face for answers, nearly consumes you. But you don’t. You inhale sharply, steeling yourself, and before he can say or do anything to stop you, you’re gone.

As Jungkook watches you walk towards the town hall again, he stands frozen, realizing just how crucial timing truly is. How he should have seized the opportunity to make things right, especially when you came running to his shop, pouring out everything that had been frustrating you.

How, instead of fighting Mingyu, he should have been by your side at the hospital.

How, from the very beginning, he should have set aside his pride and admitted to himself that he liked you all along instead of being mean and hurting you with his words.

Timing. It’s always about the damn timing.

But somehow, even now, as the chance to run after you and stop you slips through his fingers, he remains rooted to the spot like a statue, trapped by his own hesitation.

//

You sit in your apartment, tapping your foot against the floor, the faint rhythm filling the otherwise quiet room. You glance at your phone to check the time— 7:14 PM.

It’s Sunday evening and tonight is the night of the drive-in movie and Namjoon had promised to pick you up, along with your other friends. With the movie scheduled to start at 7:30 PM, worry begins to creep in as the minutes tick by with no sign of your friends.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you get up from the couch. Deciding to head downstairs, you grab your shoes, figuring it’s better to wait outside rather than pacing your apartment like a caged animal.

Just as you slip them on, your phone buzzes with a message from Namjoon. “Here.” it reads. A small smile tugs at your lips as you grab your keys and step out, locking the door behind you.

As you step outside your building and onto the pavement, you immediately spot Namjoon’s car parked across the street, its tinted windows glinting under the lights. You allow yourself another smile, shaking your head lightly at his lateness, and make your way towards the car.

“Hey, what took you so lo—” The words catch in your throat, fading into silence as you open the car door and slip halfway inside. The face behind the wheel isn’t Namjoon’s.

You freeze, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, one foot still planted on the pavement outside. The air seems to thicken, time itself grinding to a halt as you stare at him.

Jungkook sits there, hands gripping the steering wheel, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “Hey.” he says, his voice low and cautious. He offers a tight-lipped smile, but it falters, and you can see the tension in his jaw.

You blink, the shock rendering you immobile for a moment too long. Finally, your instincts kick in, and your body shifts as if to retreat. But Jungkook moves faster.

His hand reaches out, gently but firmly catching your wrist. “Wait.” he pleads, his voice suddenly louder, tinged with desperation. “I know… I know I’m the last person you expected to see.”

Your chest tightens, a flood of emotions crashing over you all at once. But his words stop you. “I know I screwed up...” he continues, his voice softer now, almost trembling.

“But… can you just... please... stay? Just watch the movie with me tonight. I… I begged your friend to let me borrow his car because I knew you’d get in if you thought it was him. I know that was weird and probably selfish, but I didn’t know how else to approach you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. His hand, still holding your wrist, is warm, as your thoughts spiral. “I just… I need to talk to you. To be near you.” he says, his eyes searching yours, his vulnerability raw and unguarded. “Please... Please just give me this one night. One chance to make things right.”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable, cutting through your walls like a blade. For a moment, you can only stare at him, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a heavy sigh, you shift your leg inside, settling into the passenger seat. You pull the door shut with a soft click, leaning back against the seat as you let out a shallow breath.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his grip on the steering wheel easing just slightly as relief washes over him. The tension in his shoulders loosens, though his eyes remain cautious, as if afraid one wrong move might shatter the delicate moment.

Without another word, he starts the car. The engine hums to life, filling the silence with its steady rhythm. As the vehicle begins to move, the atmosphere remains heavy, a mix of unspoken words and lingering emotions that neither of you dares to address... yet.

Your gaze remains fixed on the passing scenery, a blur of streetlights and faintly illuminated signs. Jungkook doesn’t dare break the silence, his grip on the steering wheel firm, knuckles taut as if anchoring himself.

It doesn’t take long before the car turns onto a gravel path, the tires crunching softly beneath them. You glance up, your attention pulled from the window by the faint glow of string lights strung overhead. They stretch out like a welcoming canopy, casting a warm, golden hue over the open field ahead.

Rows of cars are parked neatly on the wide, open lot, their occupants huddled inside, watching the massive screen that towers at the far end. It’s the typical drive-in movie setup, just like it's done every year... a sprawling outdoor space surrounded by trees, with a concession stand glowing warmly off to one side.

The screen flickers, signaling the movie is about to begin. Jungkook steers the car into an empty spot towards the back, away from the denser cluster of vehicles gathered closer to the center.

He turns off the engine, and for a brief moment, neither of you move. The quiet hum of the field surrounds you as your gaze remains fixed on the screen ahead, watching the movie’s opening sequence unfold.

Jungkook hesitates, his fingers hovering over the radio knob. “I’ll tune it to the station for the movie.” he murmurs, his voice tentative, as if testing the fragile peace between you. He twists the dial slowly, stopping only when the audio from the movie fills the car.

You turn your gaze out the window, watching the faint glow of the screen flicker across your features. The scene outside is almost idyllic... random couples perched on the hoods of their cars, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, sharing snacks as they watch the film.

Your chest tightens as the image before you clashes with the one you used to picture... you and Jungkook, sitting together just like this, cuddled up with his arm draped over your shoulders, laughing softly as you both watch the movie.

The sting in your heart is sharp, but you force yourself to look away, willing the ache to subside. You shift in your seat, eyes reluctantly focusing back on the movie playing on the big screen.

Then, near the gearshift, a faint buzz catches your attention, and almost instinctively, your eyes flicker to Jungkook's phone resting in the console. It’s probably just a random notification, but that’s not what holds your gaze. It's his lock screen.

It’s a photo. Of you. The one he took on your first date, when he playfully tucked wildflowers into your hair and insisted on capturing the moment.

Jungkook notices your silence and follows your gaze. The second he realizes what you’re looking at, his lips part slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say. With a nervous twitch, he flips his phone over, as though the simple action could erase what you just saw. But he can’t erase it. And neither can you.

A quiet tension thickens between you both. Jungkook leans back against the seat forcing himself to watch the movie, his posture stiff.

You, on the other hand, can feel your cheeks burning, a strange warmth spreading through you at the realization that he kept a picture of you as his lock screen. Of that moment. A picture you had no idea meant that much to him that he wanted to see it every time he unlocked his phone.

The movie plays on, but the sound seems to fade into the background, your thoughts swirling, caught in a delicate web of emotions you can’t untangle. Finally, you can’t hold it in anymore. "So..." you start, your voice hesitant but soft.

Jungkook’s head snaps towards you, a startled expression crossing his face, but he doesn't speak, waiting for you to continue. You keep your eyes fixed on the screen, avoiding his gaze, though your heart races. "When are you going to start talking?" You ask, the words hanging in the air, laced with a quiet challenge.

Jungkook feels the air escape from his lungs, realizing he can't stay silent any longer. In that moment, he knows he's the one who needs to speak up. If there's any hope of mending things with you, he has to step up... take action, be bold, and stop running from what he’s been avoiding. He has to stop being the coward he’s been.

"I..." he starts, his voice wavering slightly at first. "I thought you wanted to watch the movie. So I was saving it for later." He forces the words out, trying to sound steady, but his gaze flickers nervously.

You turn your head towards him, meeting his eyes with an intensity that makes his chest tighten. "Do you really think I’m worried about the movie when you’re right here?" you ask, your voice soft but firm, your gaze never leaving his.

"Jungkook, you got me here tonight. You asked me to join you. The movie is literally the last thing I care about." Your words settle in the car, quiet but weighty, as though they’ve landed somewhere deep inside his chest.

Jungkook stares into your eyes, the warmth and longing there making his heart ache. His eyes flicker over the familiar details of your face, and it lands on the scar on your head, hidden behind strands of hair. His breath hitches before he finally exhales, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he struggles to find the right words.

"I... I don’t even know where to begin...." he murmurs, closing his eyes momentarily, as if trying to summon the courage. "I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought if I broke up with you, and if Mingyu didn’t see us together anymore, he’d leave you alone." He opens his eyes slowly, locking them with yours as if he can’t bear to look away now.

"I really thought I was protecting you." He falters again, the weight of his emotions pressing against his chest. "I... I just wanted to keep you safe. That’s what I told myself, anyway. But looking back, I can see how stupid that was. So... so stupid." he adds, his voice breaking slightly.

"I didn’t realize the damage I was doing until you came to my shop that night. It wasn’t until I saw how hurt you were that I finally understood... the full extent of my mistake."

His eyes glisten with regret as he speaks, his voice trembling. "I felt like the biggest idiot. I didn’t even visit you in the hospital. And to make things worse... I was away fighting with Mingyu. Part of me still believes he deserved it, but I made a promise to you, Y/n, that I wouldn’t let myself get into fights... and I broke that promise."

Jungkook pauses, the silence stretching between you as the weight of his words settles deeper in the air. His breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling, and you can feel the tremor in his hand as it reaches for yours, the touch tentative and unsure, as if afraid you might pull away.

"When I saw what those guys did to your shop... when I heard about you in the hospital... all I could think about was how I... how I led you into all this misery. How I added so many problems to your life." he murmurs, his voice thick with guilt and regret.

"I felt... so guilty. And I thought that maybe, the best thing I could do was let you go. To set you free from all the pain, the stress, the problems... even though it tore me apart inside."

His grip on your hand tightens, the warmth of his touch desperate, as though holding onto you is the only thing grounding him. His eyes, filled with shame, never leave yours. "I thought that was the only way. That if I stepped back, you'd be better off. But now... now I see how wrong I was. So... so fucking wrong."

A tear slips down your cheek, and despite the pain in his words, your heart aches for him. You want to tell him how wrong he is, how you could never be better off without him, how being apart from him feels like the worst kind of torment. But you hold your silence, letting him speak, letting him pour his heart out.

"I love you. I always have... ever since we got together, a part of me realized what I feel for you... is just... so much more." Jungkook continues, his voice strained. His eyes meet yours again, this time soft and tender, like he’s asking for forgiveness without speaking the words.

"Y/n... I know I messed up. I’ve been reckless. My stupid actions, my irrational decisions... they were all driven by fear, not logic. And in the process, I hurt you." His voice cracks as he takes a deep breath, the pain in his chest evident. "I thought I was the reason for everything going wrong. That it was all my fault. And that thought... it just destroyed me."

His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, as if he needs that small, silent touch to remind him you're still here. His gaze never wavers from yours, his heart laid bare and raw. "But now I know. In the name of trying to protect you, I ended up hurting you the most... and I will always, always hate myself for it."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness in his expression, pierces through the tension in the air. And in that moment, it’s clear... Jungkook is not just apologizing. He's laying his soul out before you, vulnerable and broken, desperate for you to understand the depth of his remorse.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." Jungkook finally chokes out, his tears falling freely now. "I'm sorry for everything. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I’m just... so sorry for everything." His voice breaks as the weight of his remorse crashes down, and he crumples under the enormity of it.

He cries, his shoulders shuddering, and through your own blurry vision, you see the raw vulnerability etched across his face. It’s almost unbearable.

Carefully, you move your hand from his and reach out for him. Your palm gently presses against his cheek as your thumb softly wipes away his tears. "Shh..." you murmur, leaning closer towards him.

The space between you feels like it vanishes as you slide your arm around his trembling shoulders, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Jungkook doesn't hesitate as he clings to you desperately, his arms wrapping around you as if you’re his lifeline. Both of you pull each other closer, the familiar embrace engulfing the two of you.

"I’m sorry." he whispers again, his voice muffled as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You feel the dampness of his tears soaking into the fabric of your top, but you don’t care.

All that matters now is the way his trembling form feels in your arms, vulnerable and seeking solace. You hold him tighter, your hand stroking his back in gentle, soothing circles as he sobs against you.

"Please... please take me back." he begs between ragged breaths. "I'll be... I'll be good to you. I’ll stay by your side, and I’ll never, ever leave you alone again." His voice cracks, each word drenched in desperation.

You continue stroking his back, letting him cry into your embrace, your own heart aching at how broken he sounds. "Please, Y/n." he pleads, his voice trembling with hope and fear. "Please tell me you still love me."

"I do... I do love you, Kook." you respond almost instantly, the words spilling from your lips before you even realize it. There’s no hesitation, no doubt. Just the truth. "How could I ever stop?" you whisper, your voice soft but steady.

Jungkook’s breath hitches, and his arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He tugs you closer, bridging whatever small gap still exists between you, the console between your seats now inconsequential. His tears fall harder, but his sobs quiet just a little, as if your words had patched a part of the gaping hole in his heart.

//

As the ending credits roll and the movie comes to an end, you glance down at your intertwined fingers resting on your lap. You lift your gaze to him, only to find his eyes already on you.

Both of you take in the sight of each other... red, puffy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, swollen lips. Despite the emotional wreckage, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, and Jungkook follows suit with a faint laugh of his own.

"I missed you." he whispers, his voice hoarse but steady, his grip on your hand tightening as though to anchor himself to this moment. "I missed you too." you reply, lifting his hand to your lips. You place a gentle kiss on his knuckles, the warmth of the gesture carrying all the words you can’t seem to form just yet.

Silence stretches between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels like a pause before a fragile moment you both want to hold onto for just a little longer. "I could never be better off without you, Kook." you suddenly confess, breaking the quiet.

"These past few days have been a living hell for me." Your voice wavers, but you push through. "I understood your intentions... I really did. But all I ever needed was you. Just you. To hold me, to tell me everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t. That’s all I wanted."

Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. He nods slowly, his glistening eyes brimming with understanding. "I know." he murmurs, his voice breaking slightly. "I know now. Yoongi hyung... he gave me a piece of his mind. He made me realize how wrong I was. How what you needed wasn’t someone to push you away in the name of protection, but someone who would stay. Someone who would stand by you when everything felt like it was falling apart."

A faint smile graces your lips as you hear his words. "He’s right." you whisper, your voice soft but resolute. Jungkook smiles in return, a small, fragile smile that carries the weight of his regret, the depth of his sorrow, and the immensity of his love.

Leaning over the console, you close the distance between you and press a gentle kiss to his lips. The kiss is soft, lingering, a balm to the wounds you’ve both carried. "I love you." you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible but loud enough for him to hear the sincerity in your words.

Jungkook looks into your eyes and for a moment, it feels like his entire world revolves around you. You see the way his love for you shines through, raw and unfiltered, and it makes your heart ache in the best way.

When you lean back into your seat, Jungkook doesn’t let you go. This time, he leans forward, his hand cradling your cheek as he captures your lips in another kiss.

But this kiss... this kiss is unlike anything else. It’s not gentle, not cautious. It’s raw, consuming, and electric, charged with everything Jungkook has been holding back for far too long.

Regret seeps through his touch, sorrow lingers in the way his lips move against yours, but it’s love... overwhelming, all-encompassing love that takes over, folding you both into its intensity. And in that wordless exchange, there’s a promise, one you can feel in every breathless second.

You reach out instinctively, grabbing his wrist to steady yourself as the kiss deepens. The console between you feels like a meaningless barrier as Jungkook’s hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks with a tenderness that contrasts the ferocity of his kiss.

He tilts his head, his nose grazing against yours, and the sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your lips part slightly, inviting him in, and he doesn’t hesitate... his tongue brushes against yours, the intimacy making your head spin.

It’s dizzying, intoxicating, as though he’s trying to pour years worth of love, loss, and longing into this one moment. Every press of his lips feels like an apology, a plea for forgiveness, and a declaration all at once.

Your chest heaves as you match his fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You can feel the desperation in the way he holds you, as if letting go would shatter the fragile thread binding you both together again.

When he abruptly pulls away, his breath comes in ragged gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "If we… if we keep going, I won’t be able to stop." he confesses, his voice low and trembling with restraint. "I’ve missed you too much, Y/n... I've missed you way too much."

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, his words igniting a fire within you. You lick your lips, tasting him there, and your gaze locks with his. "Let’s go to my place." you whisper, your voice soft but certain.

For a moment, he looks at you, as though trying to convince himself this is real. Then, with a shaky exhale, he nods, his hand slipping from your face to intertwine with yours. He presses a final, lingering kiss to your knuckles before starting the car.

//

You yelp in surprise as Jungkook tumbles onto the mattress with you, his weight pressing you into the softness of the sheets while his lips remain locked with yours. The world spins for a moment, the intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and disoriented.

He nips at your lower lip, a soft, teasing bite that sends a jolt of electricity through your veins. You can’t help the way your hips instinctively buck upwards, the friction sparking a low groan from deep within his chest.

Your top rides up in the movement, exposing a sliver of your skin to the cool air. His fingertips find their way there, cold against the warmth of your skin, and the contrast makes you shiver.

He helps you take your shirt off and his fingers return to feel your skin, his touch is purposeful yet hesitant. "God, Y/n." he breathes against your lips, his voice hoarse and filled with longing.

His forehead rests against yours for a brief moment, his heavy breaths mingling with your own. "You have no idea how much I’ve missed this... missed you."

His words make your heart clench, and you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back down into another searing kiss. This time, it’s slower, deeper, filled with all the emotion neither of you could put into words.

His hands trail along your sides, reverent in their touch, while his lips leave yours to press a path of soft kisses along your jawline, your neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your fingers grip his shoulders, and you can’t help but whisper his name... a plea, a confession, a surrender. And as he murmurs yours in return, his voice thick with emotion, you realize that this isn’t just a reunion, it’s a rebirth. A rebirth of everything this once was.

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes glistening with unspoken words. His thumb brushes tenderly against your cheek as he cups your face, his touch so delicate it feels like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“This...” he whispers, his voice trembling slightly. “This feels like the first time I’m breathing again, Y/n. Like I’ve been holding my breath this whole time without you.” His words hit you with the weight of everything you’ve both endured.

Tears blur your vision, but you blink them away, wanting to see every inch of his face, to commit this moment to memory. “I don’t ever want to lose this again.” you reply softly, your voice cracking as you reach up to trace the line of his jaw. “I don’t ever want to lose you again, Jungkook.”

His lips curl into the faintest, most heartfelt smile, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “You won’t.” he vows, his voice steady now. “I won’t let go. I’ll hold onto you with everything I have, for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll prove it to you every single day.”

His words are a promise, one that you feel in the way his hands tremble slightly as they caress your skin, in the way his lips press against yours with a mixture of passion and reverence.

“I’ll let you.” you whisper back, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer. “I’ll let you, as long as you let me hold onto you too.”

He kisses you slow again, as if he’s relishing every second of this rebirth. It’s not just a kiss... it’s an agreement, a merging of two hearts that have finally found their way back to each other.

Jungkook pulls back, his breathing heavy as he rises to his full height. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, and in one fluid motion, he tugs it over his head, tossing it aside without care. The sight makes your breath catch.

You prop yourself on your elbows, your eyes roaming over the expanse of his body, drinking him in like he’s a masterpiece come to life.

The faint sheen of sweat on his skin makes him glimmer faintly, accentuating every dip and curve, the sharp cut of his collarbones, the hard planes of his abs, and the faint v-line that disappears teasingly beneath the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes linger on the way his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing just a sliver of the waistband of his boxers, and your throat tightens. You missed seeing him like this.

Jungkook catches the way your gaze darkens, and his lips quirk up in a faint smirk, though his own composure wavers when he sees the way you’re looking at him... like he’s the only thing that matters.

His dark eyes flicker down to you, taking their time as they trace the delicate curve of your collarbones, the way your bra frames your breasts, pushing them up just enough to make his mouth water. His gaze drops to your stomach, the smooth expanse of your skin, and the way your muscles tense under his scrutiny.

He exhales sharply, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as his gaze trails back up to your lips, then your eyes, his resolve crumbling. Your beauty just cannot be comprehended and his jeans suddenly feel unbearably tight, the outline of his hardened length pressing against the fabric painfully.

“Fuck...” he mutters under his breath, his voice low and strained, and you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. "If you keep looking at me like that..." he pauses, his eyes fixed on yours. "I'm going to lose it."

You gulp at his words and watch the way he steps back slightly, his hands moving to the button of his jeans. You watch as he undoes them with practiced ease, sliding the denim down his legs.

The thin fabric of his boxers does little to hide the extremely prominent bulge beneath, and your breath hitches as your eyes lock onto the way his hardened length strains against the material.

With one swift motion, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slides them down, letting them pool at his feet. His length springs free, thick and hard, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of him... veined and heavy, the tip glistening faintly in the dim light.

Jungkook’s chest heaves as he takes a step closer, his hands moving to your legs. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down along with your underwear in one smooth motion.

“Fuck, Y/n... look at you.” he breathes, his voice almost reverent. His gaze locks onto your glistening core, the way it clenches around nothing, slick with arousal that almost drips onto the sheets. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth, his pupils blown wide as he takes in the sight before him.

His hands tremble slightly as they settle on your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your skin. “You’re... perfect.” he whispers as he leans in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he takes a deep, shaky breath, the scent of your arousal making his head spin.

You whimper at the way he delicately touches you as you close your eyes, pressing your head against the mattress and your hands grasping for purchase on the sheets. "Fuck, Y/n…" he mumbles, his breath ghosting over your core and making you shiver. "Please... let me... let me taste you."

And before you can even form a coherent thought, he pulls your thighs apart and jerks you close until he’s right there, between your legs, his hot breath fluttering over your soaking wet core. “My gorgeous girl.” he murmurs, his eyes flickering up to yours as he drags a thumb through your folds.

He watches the way you bite onto your lower lip, your sweaty chest heaving, as he moves his hands up and down your slit. He notices the way you flinch at every movement, every touch. “So wet... So wet for me.” he groans, his thumb pressing against your clit.

Your jaw hangs open at the sensation and Jungkook wastes no time, diving in and pressing his open mouth to your slick center. You feel his tongue darting out, the wet glide of it sending sparks up your spine as he licks a slow circle around your clit.

“Fuck....” you cry out, your hips jerking as his tongue teases your bundle of nerves, the rough drag of it on your oversensitive flesh making you see stars. Your hands fly to his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to hold yourself up, your head spinning with the sensations flooding through you.

Jungkook moans into you, his tongue flickering out again, this time dragging slowly along your slit. He nuzzles into you, inhaling sharply at your scent, and you feel his nose press into your folds, his breath hot against your core.

“Oh fuck.” you pant, your legs shaking as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy, his tongue sneaking out to flick at your clit, the tip of it fluttering against the sensitive bundle of nerves with a feather-light touch.

Your thighs begin to quake as Jungkook laves you open-mouthed, his mouth hovering over your slit, his tongue lapping at your entrance. "Kook… please... Kook..." you plead, your voice cracking with need.

He looks up at you then as his mouth remains fixed on your core, and the sight takes your breath away. His eyes are heavy-lidded as he watches you. Your lips part, your breaths coming in short pants as he opens his mouth wider, devouring your opening.

His tongue darts out, the wet tip of it flicking over your entrance, and then he’s pushing inside, his mouth closing around you as he eats you out like he’s a starving man and you’re the only sustenance that will satisfy him.

"Fuck, Kook !!" you cry out, your hands scrabbling at the sheets as your head falls back and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You moan, your thighs trembling around his head as he fucks into you with his tongue, his mouth pressed open-mouthed against your core.

Jungkook groans into you, the vibrations making you cry out again as he licks into you, his hands holding you open as he feasts on you. His tongue flickers inside you, curling as it brushes against your inner walls, the sensation of it making your vision blur.

He eats you out for what feels like an eternity, his tongue sliding in and out of you in slow, sensual strokes. You’re close, so close to the edge, your pussy clenching and aching for more.

The way his name falls from your lips, over and over, like a mantra, sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. His tongue moves against you with practiced precision, each stroke and flick timed perfectly to the rhythm of your desperate cries.

When your legs begin to tremble uncontrollably, your hips bucking against his mouth, he knows you’re close, teetering on the edge of release.

And then it happens. Your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for air, your thighs trembling around his head as you arch off the bed. Jungkook groans against you, the vibrations only intensifying your pleasure as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every bit of you.

The tight flutter of your walls around his tongue drives him to the brink of madness. He’s painfully hard now, the strain unbearable as he grips himself, stroking his dick in time with your cries.

His breaths come out in ragged groans, muffled by the way your legs tighten around his head, your hands tangling in his hair and tugging just hard enough to make him growl.

“You’re perfect.” he murmurs against you, his voice husky and reverent, though he doesn’t stop. His tongue moves in long, slow laps, consuming you, drawing out every second of your release as your body quivers beneath him.

When you finally begin to come down, your body going limp and pliant, he doesn’t immediately pull away. He kisses you there, soft and tender, his lips pressing against your sensitive core as if to soothe the aftershocks coursing through you.

Jungkook rests his forehead against your thigh, his breathing heavy and labored as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. His lips are glistening, his cheeks flushed, and the sight of him... disheveled and utterly wrecked from pleasuring you, makes you want him even more.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the sheen of your pleasure still glistening on his lips. His eyes meet yours, dark and smoldering with an unrelenting hunger that sends shivers coursing through your body.

Slowly, he leans forward, his lips brushing against your trembling thighs as though in reverence. His hands roam your hips, fingers pressing into the soft curves with a gentle possessiveness that leaves no doubt of his intentions.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, tinged with awe, as if the sight of you unraveled beneath him is almost too much to bear.

He shifts his weight, moving away from your core, and you feel the absence of his heat like a loss. But then he’s hovering over you, his face so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin.

He captures your lips in a kiss that’s tender yet consuming, a prelude to everything he’s holding back. When he pulls away, it’s only to let his lips travel, a slow, meandering path along your jawline, each kiss lingering and full of love.

“I want to make love to you, Y/n.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the weight of his words presses into you as though they carry the force of a promise. “Let me make it up to you… for everything. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He doesn’t rush as he works to undo your bra, his hands steady. When the fabric falls away, his gaze locks onto your bare chest, and the intensity in his eyes makes your skin prickle with heat. His hands come up to cradle your breast, his thumbs brushing over the delicate curve of your skin and your nipple as though testing the reality of your softness beneath his touch.

“You’re perfect.” he breathes, the words spilling out like a confession before he lowers his head. His lips press against the swell of your breast, trailing kisses that are soft at first but grow more urgent as his need deepens.

His mouth finds your nipple, and he takes it between his lips, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak in a rhythm that makes your breath hitch. His teeth graze ever so slightly, just enough to send a spark of pleasure rippling through you, and you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair to hold him closer.

“Oh, God.” you moan, your voice trembling as he sucks on your nipple, his mouth working in perfect harmony with the hand that kneads and squeezes your other breast. His palm is warm, his touch firm but gentle, matching the worshipful pace of his lips.

Jungkook groans softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you and adding another layer to the heady mix of sensations. He switches sides, lavishing the same attention on your other breast, and the deliberate care he takes makes your chest heave beneath him.

“Every inch of you...” he murmurs between kisses, his voice ragged and filled with adoration. “Every inch of you is mine to love.”

His words, his touch, the heat of his mouth... it’s all-consuming, drowning you in a storm of sensations that leave no room for thought, only the overwhelming awareness of him.

Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders as you arch against him, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Jungkook’s worshipful attention feels like a drug, intoxicating and overwhelming, and the heat pooling in your core is undeniable.

“Kook…” Your voice is shaky, a whispered plea, laced with desire and desperation. “Please… Please make love to me. I need you.”

The words ignite something primal in him. He pulls away from your chest, his lips glistening, a thin string of saliva trailing down his chin. His dark eyes fixate on you as you let your hands trail over your own body, fingers grazing the sensitive peaks of your breasts. You spread the remnants of his kisses over your skin, the gesture both sensual and wanton.

Jungkook gulps audibly as he watches you and his restraint shatters, his body thrumming with the need to claim you, to pour all his love and longing into this moment.

He shifts, stretching down the edge of the bed, his hands fumbling for his pants that remains scattered on the floor. His wallet slips out, and as he opens it, relief washes over him when he finds the condom he had tucked away weeks ago, back when you were still in his life.

He doesn’t question the serendipity, silently thanking the universe for this moment, for you.

With swift precision, he tears the wrapper, his fingers steady despite the fire coursing through his veins. He rolls the condom over his length and glides his hand up and down his hardness. Stroking it to full readiness, he lets out a shuddering breath, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

The way you’re watching him... your lips parted, your chest heaving, your legs spread in invitation, leaves him utterly undone. “Y/n…” he murmurs, crawling back towards you, his hands finding purchase on your hips. “I’m going to show you just how much I love you.”

"Show me, Kook..." you moan, your voice trembling with anticipation as his tip teases your slick folds. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and instinctively, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him, inviting him. He adjusts himself, his arms bracketing your head, his elbows pressed into the mattress to hold himself steady.

"I'm all... I'm all yours." you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, the vulnerability of your words hanging in the charged air between you. Your hands find his face, pulling him closer as you crane your neck, desperate to feel his lips on yours.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both tender and consuming. His hand leaves the mattress, strong fingers gripping your hip as he adjusts your position slightly, angling you just right.

The intimacy of the touch makes your heart race, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles as he restrains himself to not just slam into you. “You’re so perfect.” he murmurs against your lips.

His hand squeezes your hip gently as if grounding himself in the reality of you beneath him, of this moment. When he finally begins to push into you, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you... the stretch, the way he fills you, the way he watches your face, searching for any sign of discomfort.

You gasp softly, your body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the pleasure of being connected to him in the most intimate way. Jungkook groans, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

"Oh baby... I missed you... fuck..." he moans, his voice strained with effort, his breaths shallow as he inches deeper, giving you time to adjust to him. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Finally, he begins to move, each thrust slow and steady, as if he’s memorizing the way your body feels wrapped around him. His full length slides into you with precision, the stretch overwhelming yet addictive.

Your noses brush against each other with every movement, breaths mingling as he maintains his rhythmic pace, taking in every push, every thrust, every deep plunge that leaves you gasping for more.

Each time, he pulls out almost entirely, leaving you aching with the emptiness, only to push back in, filling you completely, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. It’s intoxicating, the way he moves, the care and passion in every motion.

As he continues, his gaze flickers over your face, watching the way your lips part with each gasp, the way your eyes flutter closed when the pleasure crests higher. He swallows hard, his resolve faltering for a moment before he adjusts his position. Carefully, he lifts one of your legs from his waist, guiding it to rest on his shoulder.

The new angle sends him deeper, hitting a spot within you that makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed as your fingers dig into his biceps. “Oh, Kook...” you whimper, your voice trembling as he leans into you, his body pressing you further into the mattress.

"That's it..." he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint as he watches your every reaction while supporting your leg on his shoulder. “You take me so well, baby....so... so fucking perfect.”

His other hand trails down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he begins to thrust a little harder, a little deeper, the pleasure building with every motion. The intensity grows, but he still takes his time, as if he’s savoring every second, every sound you make, every shiver that runs through your body.

The way he fills you, the stretch of your leg over his shoulder, the tender yet passionate way he moves... it’s overwhelming in the best way. Your hands slide down his arms, clutching at him desperately as he drives you closer to the edge, his pace unrelenting yet perfectly controlled.

“Jungkook...” you moan, your voice breaking as the tension in your core coils tighter and tighter. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your ankle. “Faster… please… faster...” you cry out, your plea trembling in the air.

That’s all it takes for him to lose the last shred of restraint. With a growl low in his throat, he pulls you closer, his hands gripping your hips possessively as his pace shifts. His hips snap into you, each thrust harder and deeper.

Seconds blur into a haze of overwhelming sensation as he rams into you repeatedly, his tip brushing against a spot deep inside you... a spot you didn’t even know existed. The pleasure is all-consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs as your body arches into him, desperate for more.

Your vision blurs as you’re overtaken by the intensity, stars dancing behind your closed lids. “I love you… fuck, I love you so much.” he rasps, his voice raw with emotion and unfiltered passion. His hips move with an almost animalistic urgency now, his need for you reflected in every powerful thrust, in the way he fills you completely, over and over again.

The coil in your stomach tightens to the point of pain, an unbearable pressure building with every movement. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your head tossing back against the pillows as incoherent sounds pour from your lips, your body trembling beneath him.

“Jungkook… I’m… oh god…” you whimper, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure pushes you to the brink, teetering on the edge of release that feels as though it might shatter you entirely.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together. He groans at the sting of your touch, his hips slamming into you harder, deeper, as if he’s chasing the very essence of you.

“You’re... you're close, aren’t you?” he pants, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen, sensitive clit. He presses down with just the right amount of pressure, moving in firm circles that make your entire body jolt.

The combination of his thrusts and the attention on your clit sends you spiraling. Your legs tremble around him, and your walls flutter and clench tightly around his length. You cry out, your voice echoing in the room, your hands pulling him closer as if you want to fuse yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby... that's it... cum for me... let go.” he urges, his voice strained as he fights to keep himself together, his own release hanging by a thread. His thrusts grow erratic, each one deeper, harder, more consuming than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

And then it happens. The coil in your stomach snaps, your orgasm crashing into you with a force that steals your breath. Your vision goes white, your entire body arching into him as waves of ecstasy ripple through you, leaving you trembling and crying out his name like a prayer.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Jungkook groans as your walls tighten around him, gripping him like a vice. The sensation sends him over the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can go, his hips stilling as his own release takes over, his groans blending with your cries.

The two of you ride out the aftershocks together, his forehead pressed to yours as your breathing mingles, heavy and uneven. The world feels still, the only sound in the room your shared pants and the faint thrum of your hearts, beating in perfect sync.

//

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a golden hue over your room, as your head rests on his bicep. Your fingers absentmindedly play with his as your eyes trace the intricate lines of his tattoos, the delicate patterns swirling along his forearm.

After the intimacy of a warm shower and the tender care Jungkook showed you, the two of you are back on the freshly made bed. The clean, cool sheets are a stark contrast to the heat that still lingers between you, your bare skin pressed to his.

His leg lazily drapes over yours beneath the blanket, an unconscious gesture that speaks of his need to be as close to you as possible.

Jungkook leans in, the weight of his gaze melting away any lingering tension. He presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, before letting his lips brush against the scar on your head... a mark of something from the past, but no longer painful. “I love you.” he whispers, his voice low and full of sincerity.

You tilt your head back to meet his eyes, your own gaze softening. Slowly, you let go of his hand, shifting your body to face him fully. The blanket shifts with you as you wrap an arm around his torso, pulling yourself closer to him.

“I love you too.” you murmur, your voice steady, carrying the weight of your feelings. You move your head closer to his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart. His arms encircle you, tugging you closer and holding you as though he never wants to let go.

And in that moment, as the soft embrace of sleep slowly begins to claim both of you, there is a quiet realization that settles in the spaces between your breaths. It’s as though the universe, in its infinite wisdom, has woven the intricate threads of time, bringing you here.

From the days when you were nothing more than neighboring shop owners, each a stranger in the other’s world, to the sharp edges of misunderstandings, to the heated arguments that filled the air with tension. You both once couldn’t stand the mere sight of each other... two souls so different, so distant.

But somehow, through all of that, life found a way to stitch your paths together. From those moments of rivalry at the town fair meetings, when every second seemed to breed another reason for dispute, to this quiet, intimate space where the mere thought of separation feels impossible.

Now, neither of you can seem to imagine a world where the other doesn’t exist. It’s as though your lives were always meant to be interwoven, intricately and beautifully, like the finest of tapestries.

Life has a strange way of bringing two opposing forces together, testing them in ways they never expected, only to reveal the most beautiful of connections.

It pushes and pulls, and in doing so, helps them untangle the complexities of their relationship. It compels them to find the purpose behind their presence in each other’s life... why it was always meant to be, why the stars aligned, even when they didn’t know what they were meant to see.

And through the rough roads, where his rusty bike and prickly tires rattled against the cobblestones, and through the vibrant scent of flowers that lingered in the air, the softness of leaves brushing against your fingers, you both have found something more profound and beautiful than you could ever imagine.

Something that only exists when two souls, through time and struggle, find each other and discover the home they never knew they were looking for.

Post Credits Scene

Yoongi stands in the dimly lit alley, the old baseball racket twirling lazily in his hand. Mingyu, Kihyun, and Jaemin are slumped against the cold brick wall, their faces battered, their hair disheveled, fear radiating from their wide eyes.

The faint hum of a flickering streetlight overhead makes the silence between them even heavier. Yoongi crouches down, his sharp gaze locking onto theirs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “What did I say?” he asks, his voice calm but dripping with menace.

The men exchange nervous glances, their bruised faces pale under the weak light. Mingyu opens his mouth to respond, but a sharp pang from his injured ankle makes him wince and falter. Yoongi tilts his head, his smirk widening as he taps the racket lightly against the ground. “I’m waiting.” he says, his tone almost teasing.

“Never...” Mingyu manages, his voice hoarse, but the pain makes it hard to continue. “Go on...” Yoongi urges, his voice dropping an octave, the smirk now a warning.

“We’ll never bother Jungkook and Y/n again !!” Kihyun blurts out, his hands rubbing together in a desperate gesture, like he’s begging for mercy. Yoongi rises slowly, letting out a soft chuckle as he swings the racket onto his shoulder, causing all three men to flinch. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The men dare to breathe, thinking the ordeal might finally be over. But Yoongi’s sharp eyes narrow as he steps closer, towering over them. The smirk vanishes, replaced by a cold, calculating look that makes the air feel oppressive.

“Now...” he says, his voice trailing off. “Do I have to beat you guys up all over again, or will you give me Jungkook’s keys?”

<- part 15

—fin. ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

series masterlist

my masterlist <3

taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape @rpwprpwprpwprw @tokkiggukie @jaytheatiny

[indulgentdaydream]

I added these two together. I hope you guys don’t mind! Since I added them together I’m also making this a two parter. My first one ever!!

Comparisons Pt.1

Jason Todd x Jealous!Insecure!Fem!Reader || Angst/Fluff || Word Count: 2,488

Part 2

Warnings: not proofread as of yet. Maybe will after i post who knows

After a six hour morning shift as a dishwasher, you were ready to head home.

It was the early afternoon, your shift having ended at 12. It was sunny. Warm, but not too hot. You were still in your work clothes, simple black pants and a black t shirt, your tote bag full of belongings over your shoulder. It was nice weather for the half hour walk you had back to your apartment. Better than the weather you’ve faired before.

Jason usually picked you up after your shifts, no matter where he was, as long as he wasn’t on patrol. He never wanted you to be seen in public near the Red Hood. He didn’t want you as a target.

“It’s bad enough I come straight here after patrol some nights.” He had said once.

“I’m just that irresistible, eh?” You had smiled.

He laughed, kissing your shoulder, “Damn right, baby.”

This day, though, you knew he was busy with a certain case he was working on. One he wouldn’t tell you about. He had been hard at work on it for the last few weeks, barely able to make much time for you. You didn’t mind. He tried as much as he could, even if it ended up being a five minute phone call, or a visit in the middle of night in between beaten-up thugs.

The sun hits your face and warms your skin in a comfortable way. Your headphones blocked out the Gotham noise, making the moment more enjoyable. Your favourite music instead of honking horns, sounds of engines, distant sirens, and people yelling.

You were stuck in your own world. You began thinking of asking Jason if he wanted to take you for a ride on his bike later. If he was free. You knew it’d be hard for him to say no. He loved taking you for rides. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know that.

You turn a corner, stuck in your head. Thinking about what you were going to do when you got home. You weren’t used to the morning shift.

You start your walk down the road, passing busy storefronts. Crystal shops. Pet stores. Mostly cafés and diners. You briefly considered working as a dishwasher at one of these places instead so you didn’t have to walk as far.

Maybe you and Jason could go to a diner tonight? That was a hopeful thought. There wouldn’t be time.

You’re walking past the third outdoor seating that takes up most of the sidewalk, small bistro tables hidden from the sun by large, white, beach-style umbrellas. Nearly identical to the two others you had passed, only different colour schemes.

You stare straight ahead, the extended seating narrowing the sidewalk and making it harder for people to walk around. You’re nearly halfway past the café when a hand reaches over breaching the shaded area and entering the sunlight to gently grasp onto your wrist.

You’re already twisting, ready to pull the mace Jason had bought you (though you more-so believe stolen from Batman himself, as you could see where he had scratched out the bat symbol on the canister) out of your tote bag and aim, when your eyes land on the owner of the arm, stretched across the thin barrier separating the seating from the sidewalk.

It’s Jason. His face hidden behind sunglasses, a small frown on his lips as he looks up at you from the shade. He waits for you to slip off your headphones before speaking.

“I was waving to you,” his thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand. “You didn’t see?”

“Sorry,” You smile in relief at him, stepping closer to the barricade so as not to impede the flow of foot traffic. “I was more focused on getting around.”

There was someone sitting across from him. You didn’t think much of it at first. You saw red hair. That was regular with Jason, since he was always hanging around with Roy. Or Kory.

That’s who you thought it was. Roy. Nothing different at all. You turned to greet him, a smile ready on your face.

The second you clocked the pretty face, the waist-long, flowing, shiny red hair, your smile faltered.

Artemis gave you a sincere, friendly smile, her fingers swirling her straw in her cup.

Something churned in your stomach, “Hello.”

Jason’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly once, speaking up, “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”

You look back to him, “You said you were busy today.”

He frowns again. Technically, he had never said that. But it was true.

“Sit with us,” Artemis said, pointing behind her. “The entrance is there. We’re almost done anyways. Jason can drive you the rest of the way.”

You nodded, sending the best smile back to Artemis that you could muster in the moment.

As you approached, Jason reached towards the empty table behind him, flipping the chair and placing it at their own table, in between him and Artemis, facing where you had just been standing.

Something in the back of your mind noted how he didn’t even stand to do it, his face still pointed towards Artemis, his eyes concealed by his shades, hiding his expression. You sit down, placing your tote bag on the ground beside on, on your right, between you and Jason.

He picked it up and moved it onto the table without a word.

“This is my girlfriend,” Jason introduces you, his hands back on the table, folded in front of him. “This is Artemis. She’s helping me with my case.”

You nod, your mouth suddenly dry as she smiles at you again, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she smiles again, stretching out plump lips to present straight, shiny teeth.

Jason’s quick goes back to talking with her about whatever they had been talking about before you had walked past, wrapping things up.

You weren’t even capable of listening at this point.

You trusted Jason. You’d always trust Jason. This was for the case and nothing more. You knew that.

Jason had never really spoke about Artemis before. He had mentioned her once, in the early months of your relationship. You had done something. He had later asked you not to, saying he had a bad memory of it from his ex. He had never even mentioned her name. You knew he didn’t like talking about her.

However, you had been out with Jason and Roy at a bar once. Roy had briefly mentioned Jason’s ex, since she was included in the story. Jason had changed the topic fast after that. Then when he’d gotten up to use to washroom, you’d asked Roy to tell you more about her.

“Just what she looks like,” You reasoned. “So I can recognize her if need be.”

Roy hesitated in telling you, but he still did.

You trusted Jason. However, you were losing trust in Roy. He had never mentioned how gorgeous this woman is.

Her skin was smooth. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. You tried not to stare, but you couldn’t help it. Her hair was perfect. Her skin flawless. On further inspection you even realized she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

She wasn’t wearing any makeup and she looked that good?

Artemis lifted her coffee cup to her lips, nodding to something Jason was saying. Nothing you understood, anyways. Even if you were listening. You caught sight of her flexed arm as she finished off the drink. She was strong. Probably worked out nearly as much as Jason, but far more slim than he was. But in a good way.

She smiled again, wide, displaying her pearly whites. You ran a tongue over your own teeth, pursing your lips quietly in thought. Yours weren’t anywhere near that.

Your arms suddenly felt itchy as you looked over Artemis’ again. You looked down. You needed to take your eyes off of her. You were being stupid. Jason had broken up with her. Jason had picked you. He had been dating you for nearly a year and a half.

Your eyes drifted to your own arms, spots of acne along biceps. No definition in sight. Your under eye bags suddenly felt like they were on broadcast. Your face felt gritty, your hand coming up to absentmindedly scratch at the break out you had along your cheek. The frizz of your own hair visible in the corner of your eyes.

You looked back up, looking out at the busy street. Jason had chosen you. Jason loved you. Jason kissed you everyday and always made sure to tell you how much he loved you.

Except in the past few weeks while he had been busy with this case.

Had he been working with her this whole time?

You glanced back down as Jason placed his hand on your knee. He always did this when you guys were out. You look back up at him. He’s leaning on the table with her other arm, straight-faced, nodding along to something Artemis was saying. Even her voice is pretty. Her tone carrying a confidence you were failing to find in the moment.

You looked back down to your own legs, Jason’s thumb moving lightly back and forth over the side of your knee. He didn’t even know he was doing it. He never did.

You looked over to Artemis’ legs, hidden underneath a pair of jeans. Even then you could see how skinny hers were. Could see that her thighs weren’t spilling off the sides of the small metal bistro chair.

Soon enough, she was standing, beginning to say her goodbyes. You swallowed thickly. She was tall too. An amazon, you remember Roy mentioning. How could you forget.

The crop top she was wearing fit her nicely, showing off her toned stomach and even dipping down at the neckline to show some cleavage.

You looked away, your arms folding across your stomach, hiding your own torso.

She smiles at Jason. You quickly look to Jason and find him smiling, too. A genuine smile. One he had yet to give you while you’d been sitting here.

You’re his girlfriend, you remind yourself. He loves you.

She smiles at you and gives her farewell. You can only nod. You watch as she leaves.

God. She was nice, too. Nicer than you had wanted to be to her.

She walks in the direction you had come from. Her hair flowing behind her, an expensive-looking purse hanging from her shoulder. Most men walking past stop to turn and look at her. She ignored them all.

That never happened to you. In fact, Jason had been the first guy to ever even ask you out. You never understood why you were his choice. Not when he was able to pull women like that.

Jason pats your knee and pulls you out of your thoughts, “Want to get anything before we go?”

You can’t even face him. She’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. A fucking amazonian warrior.

You stare down at the table, catching sight of your own hands. Your nails worn from your shift at the restaurant, fingertips still wrinkled from the water.

Why the hell would he ever stay with you if she was still in his life?

“No.” You finally answer. “Thank you.”

He nodded, sighing as he fished out his wallet to pay for their coffees. He counts the bills and change, speaking with his head down, “How many times have I told you not to walk around with your headphones on?”

You lift your head to look at him, “What?”

He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still hidden by his shades. “Your headphones. You get so lost in your music you couldn’t even see me waving to get your attention.”

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table, “I was looking past you. I didn’t expect to see you—”

“I was calling your name, too. If your headphones were off then you could’ve heard me.” He tossed a twenty onto the table, leaning forward on his elbows to look at you. “Anyone could sneak up on you.”

You pursed your lips, your brows tightening at him.

Why did she get a smile and not me?

Jason gestured to your bag on the table, “Same with this. The hell you putting it on the floor for? You wouldn’t notice it was taken until far too late—”

“You don’t have to drive me,” you interrupted. “I’ll walk.”

Jason cocked his head slightly, looking genuinely curious, “Why? Car’s right over there—“

“I’ll walk.” You repeated. Firmly.

You needed the walk. You had to try and work the jealousy out of your mind before you got into it with Jason. You didn’t want to argue. Not now. Not in public.

Jason sighed, running a hand over his mouth, “Don’t be like that.” He started to stand, his keys jingling in his hand, “Come on.”

He reached to take your bag for you, a large brown envelope already in his hand. Whatever Artemis had given him.

You reached out and snatched it from his hand. You stood, throwing it over your shoulder. “I’ll walk.”

Jason stared at you for a moment, seemingly frozen in place.

He sighed through his nose, “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath trying to control your emotions. This was stupid. Jason had broken up with her for a reason. Had been dating you for the last year and a half for a reason.

Unfortunately, your mouth was working faster than your mind, “Don’t act like you didn’t start this.”

Jason pushed his shoulders back. He tried again, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, frustrated.

“Fine,” he stuffed his free hand in his pocket. “Just don’t be wearing your headphones while walking around.“

You were tired. Your shift had been long. You were worked up from your mind running all the comparisons between you and Artemis. It was still running them, you suppose, as otherwise you wouldn’t have said, “I guess you wouldn’t have to worry about her all the time. She can handle herself.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his first shown emotion since that smile he’d given her, “Who?” Then they shot up almost just as quickly. “Artemis? Is that was this is about?”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at his realization. He’d figured you out.

His shoulders tensed, “Do you really not trust me?”

The way he had said it, his tone, has made it sound like the silliest thing in the world. Now it made you feel even stupider. Of course you trusted him.

You caught people staring in the corner of your vision. You ducked your head back down.

You gripped your tote bag at the straps over your shoulder and stormed off.

You heard Jason call your name as you passed by him again, on the other side of the barrier, headed back to your apartment.

Hope you guys enjoyed!! Pt 2 will be out later this week!!

Update!! Part 2 is here!!!

Part 2

[deminetly]

꒰SCENARIOS TO SCRIPT꒱

——————————————-

you and your friends discovering an underground club

you and your friends making a secret art installation/street performance at night

late night drives with your s/o blasting the playlist you made together

you and your friends going on a spontaneous road trip with no destination

you and your friends playing a prank on someone (or each other)

you and your friends finding an ancient map and going on a treasure hunt

costume party

deeptalk with your friend or s/o at night while stargazing on a roof

your s/o writing a song about you

dyeng your hair in a public toilet with friends

working with your friends in a cafe or record store

joining a competition for something you have never done (and winning?)

sneaking out to explore the town at night

you and your friends building a treehouse

finding a love letter in your locker

getting stuck in an elevator with someone you like

finding a stray animal and taking it home with you

passing a lake on your bike ride and deciding to go for a swim fully clothed

faking an engagement to get free desserts in a cafe

you and your s/o decide to start a vlog channel and post your dates

starting a (shifting) podcast (with your friends)

you and your s/o going out and they draw your initials together on a wall

making a short film with your friends

getting detention at school but you end up having fun and finding new friends

you and your best friend have a sleepover talking about your dream partners, the next day you go out and meet the exact people you were describing

theres a power outage and huge storm outside, you cuddle up with your s/o in warm candle light and remind each other of past memories together

holiday decorating the house with your family, it all feels exactly as it used to

exploring abandoned castles

you and your s/o drawing on each others skin

renting a bouncy house with your friends

[bdsmsub67]

[violettwrites]

american teenagers — intro.

next

helloooooo my loves!!! here’s an intro into my comeback fic, american teenagers! i sat on this idea for a little while during my tiny break and i honestly couldn’t get it out of my head. i was heavily inspired by ethel cain for the vibes of it all, hence the name :)

please bear with me in all this as i do get easily overwhelmed and experience burnout very quickly but you guys are always supportive so i have no doubts!!

i’m not sure when the first chapter will be out, but i’m slowly working on it as i am very excited for you guys to read it! lots of love xx

the summer of 1987 was supposed to feel different. everyone in town kept saying it— teachers, parents, the tired voices on the radio between commercials. they said it like graduating highschool meant anything would actually change. but for the kids in the trailer park on the outskirts of town, it wasn’t much more than another hot season stretched out between long days and longer nights. the same parties by the lake, and the same dreams about escaping that no one really believed in.

the days were always the same for you. early mornings at the gas station counter, and evenings at the diner pouring coffee for truckers passing through. anything to keep you out of your father’s path really. your nights were often spent on the roof of your trailer, a cigarette in one hand and a notebook full of half-finished plans and dreams in the other. for daryl, the boy you had known since he was a scrawny little thing with clothes too big for him, it was merle’s shadow and busted knuckles, endless hours fixing bikes and cars in the sun while dreaming of roads that led anywhere but this small town.

you couldn’t remember a time when daryl dixon wasn’t around. his trailer was only three down from yours. you had been inseparable since the day you caught him standing by the broken fence of the trailer park, segregating the southside of town from the rest of the townspeople. the two of you had seemed like an odd pair to everyone else— daryl’s constant silence and smoldering anger along with your rough edges and restless energy —but somehow, it worked.

the summer after highschool felt like your last chance to figure out if those dreams the two of your had whispered about on those late night drives would ever come true. but the weight of this small town— the trailers, the jobs that paid barely enough to keep the lights on and your fathers off your backs, the scars you didn’t talk about —it all hung heavy between the both of you.

you didn’t really realise it at first, the way your feelings for daryl had shifted. it wasn’t a lightning bolt or this big grand revelation in your head. it was slower than that, like the way the heat crept up during june, making itself known in those hazy afternoons and the sweat dripping down your back. you started to notice those small things— how his voice softened when he talked to you, or the way his shoulders relaxed when the two of you were alone. you couldn’t pin point when it changed, only that it had.

daryl wasn’t any better at handling it either. he’d always thought of you as the one person who saw him for more than what people whispered about the dixons— trailer park trash, troublemakers, destined for nothing. you didn’t flinch at the bruises he didn’t explain, or the scars he wouldn’t talk about. you were his anchor, his light. but now, everytime you smiled at him or touched his arm, it felt like something inside him was breaking apart and putting itself back together all at once.

that summer wasn’t just about the heat, the bad decisions, or the endless nights spent sitting under a starless sky. it was about the weight of knowing you could only hold onto each other for so long before something— or someone —pulled you apart.

neither of you had the words to say it yet, but you both knew: the end of your childhood was here, and whatever seemed to come next would either bring you both closer or tear you apart for good.

if you enjoyed this, please give it a like/reblog! your support always means the world to me 🫶🏻

stay tuned for the first chapter! if you’d like me to add a tag list, comment below!

[readwritealldayallnight]

A Stranger is a Friend You Haven’t Met Yet…

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

wc: 2.5k words

warnings/tags: brief allusions to m masturbation

He should have known it would start pouring.

It had been that kind of day after all. More like than kind of week if the Lieutenant was being honest with himself. They’d been stuck on base for well over a month now, doing what felt to him like absolutely bloody nothing. He knew that wasn’t the case. Periods of lull happened from time to time in this career, they were still training diligently, gathering intel, running simulations, but Simon was becoming antsy.

As the days of not seeing any active combat turned into weeks, Ghost had gone through more packs of smokes than he cared to keep track of. He was itching for something to do, something that got his blood pumping and adrenaline coursing through his veins, in a way he couldn’t achieve through an intense workout or sparring session. His Captain was noticing his demeanour as well. Which in hindsight, was likely why the older man had tossed Ghost a set of keys late one evening after a particularly drab day. He’d told his Lieutenant to get some air, advising him to try and return before the soft pitter patter of raindrops that had steadily been falling all day turned into a proper storm. He sent him on his way, not without cautioning him against getting any scratches.

“On me or the bike, sir?” Ghost had teased the Captain, thanking him with a nod of his head as he accepted the motorcycle’s keys. But now an hour later, those soft raindrops had indeed began to increase in frequency, the wind equally picking up speed, whipping the drops across his helmet to and fro as he sped down any open stretch of road he came across. It’d already been dark out when he’d left base with the feeling of a roaring engine underneath him, but it was now becoming increasingly difficult to see through the visor of his helmet.

Most roads around the base were empty and desolate, considering there wasn’t much else in the area for a few klicks, and so Ghost found himself thankful for the sparse streetlights that began to appear as he ventured closer towards the city. He was still in a fairly quiet area, especially combined with the time of night and weather, and so as he began considering turning around and cutting his ride short, Ghost was especially surprised to spot what appeared to be a lone figure standing under one of those lamp posts.

Not just some figure, but a girl.

Ghost blinked twice, unsure if he was imagining things. But she was still standing there, soaked to the bone and frantically poking shivering fingers at a cell phone. His bike slowed down as he approached her, acting almost on instinct, without considering what he was going to do. He just saw her and immediately knew he was going to do something.

She jumped in surprise as the loud bike approached, gaze lifting from the phone in her hands and landing on the source of the rumbling noise. Ghost planted a foot on the ground, leaving enough space between them as to hopefully not frighten her any further than he might have already, but close enough to see her properly through the rain. And when her gaze lifted to the visor of his helmet and locked eyes with him, he swears his heart stopped beating right then and there.

You were quite the sight to behold. Hair dripping as if you’d just dunked your hair under water, strands sticking to your face and neck, clothes completely soaked through, any exposed flesh was covered in goose bumps and your entire body was shivering. Your makeup was smudged slightly around your eyes, your lips were parted in surprise and you gave out the tiniest little “Oh!” upon his approach. You were nothing short of mesmerizing. What were you doing out here all alone?

“Y’alright?” Ghost has to half shout to be heard over the roaring of the engine and the steady falling of the rain. He watches you blink through the raindrops clinging to your eyelashes and he has to bite back the urge to rip his helmet off and lick the drops sliding down your face. Christ what the fuck is wrong with him?? Where did that come from??

“I- I’m lost! I’ve been trying to call for a cab, but-” you’re cut off by a small gasp of displeasure as a cold gust of wind hits you. “Reception out here isn’t working!” You shout back to him. Ghost finds himself momentarily mortified by the movement he felt in his pants in reaction to the noise you just made, but he pushes those thoughts aside and glances around him.

“How’d you end up out here? S’not safe!” He for some reason finds himself displeased with the idea of you walking up and down this desolate stretch of road, late at night, getting yourself sick in this weather you aren’t even properly dressed for. You’re nothing short of a vision on legs, who would allow you to be out here by yourself like this? You open your mouth as if to answer him, but Ghost shakes his head, having already made up his mind. “Where you tryin’ to get to?”

“Was supposed to get dropped off at The Morris. Didn’t realize there was more than one…” you tell him sheepishly, glancing down at your shoes as if you’re the one who should be embarrassed that the cabbie dropped you off at some dingy old pub by the same name as your hotel, and left you in the pouring rain when you clearly didn’t look sure of yourself. Ghost decides then and there that he does not like to see you looking so upset and down on yourself, especially if there’s anything he can do about it. He’s planting his other foot down on the ground now, pulling his helmet off his head and thrusting it in your direction in the blink of an eye.

“S’not far from here. Hop on, I’ll take ya.” He says, holding the helmet out to you as he adjusts the black surgical mask he’d donned beforehand. He is momentarily thankful he switched masks out at the last minute. He’s never cared whether his usual Ghost masks intimidate anyone before, that’s kind of the point of them. But for you, being approached late at night in the dark by a large strange man on a motorcycle offering you a ride, he’s grateful that you’re looking into his eyes rather than through his usual mask. Still, he can sense the hesitation rolling off of you. You’re obviously in a predicament, and this stranger is your new best hope, but you’re still cautious. Good girl, he thinks to himself. “Can’t just leave ya out here, love. Wouldn’t be right of me.” He cringes internally at his use of the nickname, but he watches as your gaze drops to the helmet in his still extended hand. “You’ve my word, I’ll keep ya safe.”

At that, you look up into his eyes again, and you must see something there that appeases whatever part of you still wants to deny a stranger, because your small hand slips the phone into your back pocket before both hands each out to grasp the helmet, a small sheepish smile on your face.

“I don’t know, my mother always said not to take rides from strangers…” You said, pushing the wet strands of hair away from your face as best as you could. Wait, were you teasing him now? He can’t help the small surprised chuckle that slips past his lips.

“Well,” he replies, watching as you don the helmet and attempt to adjust the chin strap. Your fingers have gone numb from the cold and are shaking, struggling to complete your task. He extends a hand out gently in offering, raising an eyebrow as well, before you nod in approval. His own hands reach out to grab onto the straps, careful not to pinch your skin in the process. “My mum always said that a stranger was a friend you hadn’t met yet.” He actually could remember his mum saying that to him once as a small boy. A rare happy memory that was still nestled in the deep recesses of Ghost’s subconscious.

“Thanks.” You answer as he retracts his hands reluctantly. “Suppose if I knew your name we wouldn’t be strangers anymore.”

Ghost can’t help but to freeze momentarily at that. You’re asking for his name. His name. For some reason he cannot name at the second, he doesn’t want you to call him Ghost. Something about it feels unnatural to the moment that’s happening before him. However, he isn’t about to utter the name Simon. He can’t even remember the last time someone called him by his first name, it might’ve been Price ages ago. The rain is still pouring down on your both, wind whipping you from all sides, and so in a split second, Ghost decides to say:

“Riley. Name’s Riley.” And to his utter amazement, you smile up at him after that. A beautiful, genuine, earth-shattering smile. All because of his name?? He has to actively fight to listen past the beating of his own heart to hear you offer him your name. And it’s a sound that etches itself into his memory right then and there.

As much as he wants to stand here forever just gazing at you, he wants to get you out of this weather more. Again, without really thinking about it, Ghost is slipping his leather jacket off and insists on slipping it onto your frame, mentioning something about the roads being slippery and not wanting you to get road rash. When you tell him you’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, he helps direct you in how to sit behind him, showing you where to hold onto him with your delicate hands around his midsection. Ghost is glad you’re behind him and can’t see the way his face has gone beet red at the feeling of your touch. He’s telling you to hold on tight, knowing he’s going to be driving half the speed he normally would without such precious cargo in tow.

The ride isn’t a very long one, and Ghost finds himself wishing he could have a word with whatever cabbie left you out there like that when it was this easy to drop you off where you were meant to be. But as he approaches your destination, his mind begins to wander. What are you doing out here? A pretty little bird like yourself shouldn’t be alone to begin with, and there isn’t anything out here for tourists or sightseers. This area really is predominantly just the military base and its few surrounding businesses before reaching the next city.

Are you staying at the hotel near base because you’re visiting someone there? A boyfriend or a husband? He doesn’t find it likely, considering he found you by yourself and you were trying to get in contact with a cab rather than someone you may know around here. Still, the thought of there being someone in your life leaves a bad taste in Ghost’s mouth, though he knows it is wholly unjustified.

As the bike slows down in front of your hotel and settles under an awning, allowing temporary reprieve from the rain, Ghost finds himself stepping off first to help you with your descent. He wordlessly helps unfasten the helmet and gently slips it off your head, hearing your sweet little laugh as you brush back the hair that got messy on the ride, slipping off his jacket and handing it back to him. Now you’re gazing up at him and Ghost isn’t sure what to say or do but he finds himself, more than anything, grateful that he was the one to find you tonight, knowing that he got you here safe and sound.

“I really can’t thank you enough. I’m not sure how long I’d been standing there, but I might just get feeling back in my toes by the end of the night now.” You mention with a small giggle at the end, yet another sound that Ghost finds himself wanting to memorize forever.

He opens his mouth in an attempt to wave you off. It really wasn’t a big deal in the end, if anything you gave him a purpose tonight. He goes to tell you as much, but then your small hand is reaching up, landing on his bicep in what feels like a hot iron touching his muscle directly, before you whisper to him:

“You’re a good man, Riley.”

With a gentle squeeze to his arm, and one last soft smile, you’re turning around and walking through the front doors, leaving a 6’4” mountain of a man frozen in place and face burning hot as it ever has.

He’s back at base within the hour, and has already replayed every moment of your interaction over and over in his mind, that by the time he’s in the shower and has his fist wrapped around his steel hard cock, he feels like he can still hear your laugh, still feel your delicate touch on his skin. He reminds himself that there’s no way any of these chumps on base are the reason you’re around, none of these men were there for you tonight when you needed them, but he was. That’s what Simon reminds himself as he stokes his thumb over his tip, spreading the drops of precome up and down his shaft, imagining that it’s your hand instead. That’s what he tells himself to ensure he feels guilt free as he thinks of you calling him ‘a good man’, as he spills over his hand in record time, your name choking in the back of his throat, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

The next morning as he’s sitting next to Soap for the morning briefing, he can’t stop thinking of you. It’s bittersweet to think that he will never see you again, but at the same time, he can forever keep last nights events as a treasured memory for himself, keeping it tucked away for when he needed it. He’s never going to share that story with anyone, not Soap, not the Captain, not even his journal will be hearing of you. He wants you all to himself in his mind only. Hell, he very well might have imagined you last night for all he knows, an illusion his mind created to entertain him, even for just a short period. He’s hardly listening to the Scot yapping next to him about some new translator finally arriving, rolling his eyes when he hears him whine that he hopes it’s ‘a bonnie lass this time’.

“You’ll do well to mind yourself Sergeant.” Price says to Soap, not bothering to look up from the papers he’s going through. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of her for a long feckin’ time now.”

“So it is a lass??” Soap asks with no attempt to hide his excitement.

“Last time I checked, yes, I’m still a ‘lass’.” Comes a new voice from the doorway. Everyone’s gazes have snapped towards the newest figure to enter the briefing room. Everyone’s but Ghost. Because he recognizes that voice.

It’s you.

Part 2 Part 3

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Nine

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Attempted suicide, unknown watching as someone gets changed, SIMON BEING THE CUTEST MAN ALIVE, kissing and bum spanking

Taglist: @beebeechaos @h3art3at3rr @johannxseb @cndy-l0v3 @nylluns @pomegranategum @tapioca-marzipan

ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS A FLASHBACK

Masterlist

The summer air was a broil of wet leaves and burnt tar, roads simmering with clouded fogs of steam that snipped at the exposed flesh of your leg. Your bike was worn, tyres nearly flat from the consistent rummaging of scarred rocks tearing the innocent rubber into a battered mess.

Your legs were inflamed from the constant use, thighs straining against bones and weathered skin. Sweat stuck to you in a damp layer, the occasional fly suckling at the salty residue. There was a gentle strum of moans, ripped jaws sloshing against rotten teeth, skin a ghastly contrast against the greenery. They didn’t care for you, walking past you like you were one of them.

It was a sick punishment.

You thought back to the first couple of days after. After Vienna. Steel supported rough fingers, muzzle pointed under your chin, the chill of cold tickling down your throat, trapping your oesophagus with an arrogant choke. Nimble fingers unclicked the safety, a line of tears streaming down your face pathetically.

You didn’t do it. You weren’t sure which was weaker, staying or leaving.

Blood ran through your chest, beating down to the tips of your wrists, eyes gauging through the flesh as if you had x-ray vision. You would no doubt be scorned with blisters later, the sun kissing you with fat welts filled with liquid medicine as you rolled in used sheets, unable to sleep.

You stared down the winding road, a companion of butchered shops lined up by the corner, untouched. It wasn’t rare for you to venture far, always taking a main road that would eventually lead you home.

You pushed through glass doors, majority of the crystal shattered across the concrete. There was a gentle ding of a bell as you entered, a lone zombie trailing towards the noise, disappointed at the sudden disappearance of its senses as you smashed a blade into the centre of its head, the stench of death filling the shop as you gagged. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to the smell.

The store was disappointing at the front, but you knew the stock room held liquid gold. Your knees skidded over the counter, a till smashed across the floor as you laughed. You wriggled the STAFF ONLY door, your shoulders working to barge it open. There were unopened boxes of candy that caught your attention, sticky tape quickly stuck to the wall as you delved through, a child-like innocence adorning your face as you tore apart a chocolate wrapper.

A sick moan of satisfaction ran through you as you stuffed more bars in your bag, teeth rotting with gooey caramel. Your feet padded against the floor, achy limbs begging for a rest as you sat down on a bench, uncomfortable wood barely supporting you. You scoffed back an apple, a small container full of buttered bread soon resting in your stomach.

You groaned as you chugged the majority of your water, the liquid quenching the Sahara in your throat as it stained your chest, a light dribble working down your chin as you sighed. Eyes stared at the bike resting against a brick wall as you looked up, noticing the flock of birds make their way through the sky, gradual darkness soon blending into the baby blue.

Dirtied nails scraped against the glass of your final destination, a small boutique with a flickering sign greeting you with the smell of dust as you pushed the door open. Nimble fingers worked your sweaty top off as you tried clothes on, wiping the grotty mirror down with an ugly rag of a shirt.

Dark eyes watched you from a rooftop, covered face twisting into a scowl as he watched you prod at yourself in the mirror. Your flesh was greasy, a sweet shine covering your muscles as he fixated on the way you moved. He stared at you through the lens of a sniper before placing it next to him as you walked out, bag round with clothes and the minimal amount of food you could find.

You didn’t notice him, his body stealthy as he adjusted, eyes immersed in you as you rode off. They would head your way tomorrow, he decided.

Thick hands ploughed at the wood; an axe gripped between his fingers as you watched him intensely. Your eyes gawked at his biceps, chiselled muscles bulging under the sun, a glisten against his skin from his work.

“That enough?” His voice was thick, a mixture of molten and sweet honey lacing him. His aura was earthy and masculine, his need to prove himself to you evident as he looked to you for approval.

“Good enough for me,” you replied, attempting to grab a log of wood before he barked that he would do it, snatching it from your grip.

Your eyebrows twisted up in annoyance as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m not useless, I was the one doing this before you all came along.”

“Didn’t mean to offend you, sweet’art, just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

It was impressive watching him work; his forearms stuffed full of wood as he placed it in the small collector next to the fireplace. This was your first time being alone with him, his large frame was intimidating at first, but his shitty dad jokes couldn’t help but pull a smile from you.

You pulled him into the barn, introducing him to your cows, Daisy and Ted. He wasn’t fond of the names, but he felt himself nodding, watching the way you greeted them like they could speak, eyes full of admiration at the way you handled yourself.

“I’m hoping she gets pregnant, she’s my lifesaver,” you cooed, swatting the cow gently against her rump as she huffed out a breath. Simon raised a brow at you, a cocky smirk against his face.

“Don’t think about it,” you scowled as he turned around. Quick hands swatted at his ass as he grunted. Ghost was trained for anything, his hands at your waist as you squealed, quickly thrown over his shoulder with a huff before you were dropped in a bale of hay, endless giggles wracking through your chest as he peered down at you with a grumpy look.

You noticed his eyes crinkle as your laughter slowly subsided, both of you staring at each other with an amused look. His hands stilled at your waist, gripping them slightly with a warming touch.

“What’s your real name?”

He paused for a moment, thumb rubbing at your rising tummy, a pool of butterflies sinking into every crevice of the muscle. “Simon.”

You repeated it several times back to him, enjoying the way it fell from your lips as battered eyes focused on them, watching the way your tongue wriggled in the heat of your mouth as you spoke.

“You like it?” He asked, voice lower with nerves. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. But he was.

You nodded at him, glancing from his eyes down to his mouth. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing his hand to your cheek as your mouth opened slightly, eyes never leaving his. He paused, ready to turn away from you.

He didn’t.

Instead, he leaned in, pushing the mask down his chin in a rough manner before he kissed you, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip before easing it into your throat. He was strangely gentle, almost like he was scared to hurt you. The Lieutenant’s hands gripped your face as you pulled him in by the scruff of his neck, deepening the motion. 

His eyes were voids of burnt sugar, a hinge of toffee speckling through as they merged into his iris. He was warm and inviting, the slight tang of his saliva running through your taste buds as he welcomed the sensation of you, a hand dropping to your throat with a delicate squeeze. 

Simon pulled away with a slight gasp, catching the breath he wasn’t sure he was holding.

“I don’t want to rush you.”

You only smiled and brought him back in.

[monteccibikes]

4 Things to Consider Before Buying Folding Bikes in New York

Choosing the right folding bike that perfectly aligns with your requirements can be a daunting and bewildering endeavor. The task becomes even more intricate when faced with a multitude of choices saturating the market. By addressing the question of how to pick folding bikes in New York, we will delve into aspects like folding bikes intended use, budget, frame material, and brakes.