#feel free to wrap with your reply or here?

[rootedinrevisions]

Two Step

SUMMARY: Not much of a plot, just a short little piece about learning how to two-step with Tyler.

A/N: This is inspired by the video of Glen and his sister dancing that was posted by @theglenaissance (thanks for the inspiration!)

The bar was alive with the steady thrum of country music and the laughter of patrons enjoying their Saturday evening. There was a slight haze of dim, golden light that hung over the room, and the worn wood floor carried the scuff marks of countless boots. You sat at a small corner table nursing a glass of sweet tea, content to the let the others on the team take the spotlight.

Boone was holding court at the bar, gesturing animatedly as he recounted a story to Dexter and Dani. Lily leaned against the jukebox a few feet away, her face lit up at whatever Boone was saying. Meanwhile Tyler was the center of attention as always, his easygoing smile and charm lighting up the room. He was sat at the table across from you, leaned back in his chair tipping his hat to someone who passed by. His laughter carried over the hum of conversation in the room. He looked completely at ease, as if the long day of chasing storms and helping destroyed towns hadn’t left him exhausted like it had you.

You swirled the ice in your glass absentmindedly, feeling the familiar comfort of being a spectator rather than a participant. The last thing you expected was for Tyler to stand and turn his attention toward you.

“C’mon,” he said, his grin widening as he extended a hand toward you.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he said, nodding toward the dance floor where couples swayed and spun in time with the music.

You shook your head quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. “Oh, no. I don’t dance.”

Tyler’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more mischievous. “Don’t dance or don’t want to dance?”

“Both,” you replied, trying to suppress a nervous laugh. “And I don’t even know how.”

“Well,” he drawled, taking a small step closer, “lucky for you, I’m a good teacher.”

You stared at him, your pulse quickening. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to dance with him—it was that the idea of being the focus of attention on that dance floor, even for a few moments, felt overwhelming. You glanced around the room, but Tyler didn’t seem to care who might be watching.

“Tyler, I—” you started, but the way his eyes softened, his grin turning into something almost gentle, stopped you. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Just one dance.”

Your hesitation lingered for a moment longer, but then you sighed and placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours, his grip steady and reassuring. As he led you to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but notice how easy it felt to follow him, like he’d done this a hundred times before. 

Tyler turned to face you fully, letting go of your hand for just a moment before retaking it. His fingers wrapped gently around yours, warm and steady. “Alright, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and soothing as he stepped closer. His free hand hovered near your waist. “I’m gonna put my hand here. This okay?”

The softness in his tone, the way he paused for your approval, sent a flutter through your chest. You swallowed hard and gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

His hand settled lightly on your waist, his touch firm but careful, as though he was hyper-aware of not overstepping. “Good,” he said with a small smile. “Now, your turn. Left hand on my shoulder.”

You hesitated for a second, lifting your hand cautiously and letting it rest over his shoulder, your fingers barely brushing against the fabric of his shirt. He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing, and his grin widened. “I don’t bite, you know.”

That earned a soft laugh from you, and the tension in your shoulders eased a little. “Okay,” you murmured, shifting your hand to rest more comfortably.

“Atta girl,” he said, giving you a wink that made your cheeks warm. “Now, the basics. We’re gonna do a two-step. Real easy. Step together, step, step. Got it?”

You nodded, even though your nerves were already making you second-guess yourself.

“Alright,” Tyler said, his grin turning a little crooked in a way that made your stomach flip. “Here we go. Step together. Step. Step.”

You tried to follow him, but on the second count, your feet didn’t quite match his, and you stumbled slightly. Your cheeks burned as you let out an embarrassed laugh, trying to step back. “I—I can’t do this,” you said quickly. “I’m gonna fall, or worse, step on your foot.”

Tyler tightened his hold on your waist ever so slightly, keeping you in place. “Nope, not letting you run off that easy,” he said, his voice full of quiet confidence. His grin was steady, unshaken. “If you fall, I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it, like it was the simplest truth in the world, made your heart skip a beat.

He glanced down at his boots and gave you a playful smirk. “And if you step on my foot, it’s no big deal. Steel toes. Do your worst.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, your nerves easing just a little as his words sank in. “Alright,” you said softly, your voice more steady this time.

“Good. Let’s try again.”

He led you once more, his steps slow and deliberate, and this time you managed to follow the rhythm for a few beats before faltering again. Tyler didn’t seem to mind, though. His hand on your waist kept you grounded, and his quiet encouragement kept you from giving up.

“See? You’re getting it,” he said after a few more tries, his grin never fading.

Finally, after a few minutes, the movement started to feel more natural. You found the rhythm, your steps matching his as the two of you swayed side to side in a simple two-step motion. Tyler’s hand on your waist guided you, steady and reassuring, and the smile on his face made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

“There it is,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “Told you you’d get the hang of it.”

Tyler’s grin turned playful, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Alright, darlin’, now that you’ve got the hang of the two-step, let’s add a little flair.”

You gave him a nervous look, the kind that silently said what are you getting me into now? “Flair?” you echoed, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“A twirl,” he said simply, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. His confidence didn’t waver for a second. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You bit your lip, unsure but willing to trust him. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, and he gave a reassuring nod.

“Here’s how it’s gonna go,” he said, his hand slipping from your waist to take your left hand. His touch was gentle yet steady. “I’ll step back, you’ll step back. Just like this.”

He guided you, both of you taking a step back, your hands the only thing connecting you now. The distance made your heart skip—it felt vulnerable and thrilling all at once.

“Now, I’m gonna spin you,” Tyler said, his grin widening as he lifted his left arm, keeping hold of your hand.

Before you could overthink it, he gave a gentle pull, guiding you forward as he lifted his arm higher, creating a perfect arc for you to twirl under. His right hand hovered just behind you, ready to steady you if needed.

You stepped forward, turning under his arm, your heart pounding as you completed the spin without stumbling. Your hair swung lightly with the motion, and when you stopped, you looked up at him with a grin, surprised and thrilled.

“There it is,” he said, his own grin matching yours. “Told you it’d be easy.”

Before you could reply, he added with a teasing glint in his eye, “Now, let’s make it a little more interesting.”

He pulled you into another spin, the movement a little faster this time. Your laughter bubbled up as you twirled again, but this time, instead of releasing you back into the basic steps, Tyler’s left arm slid around your waist.

You gasped as he caught you in a slight dip, his right hand steadying your back to make sure you didn’t fall. The world seemed to tilt for a second as you stared up at him, his face inches from yours.

“Easy,” Tyler murmured, his voice low and reassuring. His left hand gave your waist a gentle squeeze, grounding you. “I’ve got you.”

The way he said it made your pulse race, his confidence never faltering. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you—no music, no crowd, no bar. Just Tyler, his steady hands, and the way he made you feel like you could trust him with anything.

He pulled you upright, his hand still firm at your waist, and guided your left hand back to his shoulder. His right hand found yours again, bringing you back to the original position.

“See?” he said, his tone laced with teasing pride. “You’re a natural.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart still racing. “I don’t know about that, but…that wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

With Tyler’s steady guidance and easy charm, you began to relax into the rhythm of the music. The initial nerves that had made your steps hesitant faded as you let him lead, his movements so natural it felt like he could do this in his sleep.

One song melted into the next, and before long, the two of you were gliding around the dance floor like you’d been doing this together for years. You even found yourself smiling more, the shyness that had initially made you resist slipping away. Tyler’s confidence was contagious, and every time you stumbled or faltered, his reassuring squeeze or playful grin reminded you that it was all just for fun.

At some point, the pace of the music picked up, and Tyler added a few spins and flourishes, pulling you close one moment and letting you twirl away the next. You laughed freely now, the sound blending with the claps and cheers of other couples on the floor.

“Look at you,” Tyler said over the music, his voice low but full of pride. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re a good teacher.”

“Or you’re just a quick learner,” he teased, spinning you again and pulling you back to him with an exaggerated flair that had you laughing so hard you nearly tripped.

By the time the current song faded into another, the two of you were breathless, the warm energy of the room making your cheeks flush. Tyler finally slowed, his hand still resting at your waist as he leaned in close.

“How about a break, darlin’?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, realizing just how thirsty you were. “Yeah, I think I need one.”

Tyler grinned, his hand lingering at your back as he guided you off the dance floor and back toward the bar. The cool air hit your skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth you’d felt out there with him.

As you leaned against the bar, Tyler ordered drinks for both of you, his easy confidence as natural here as it had been on the dance floor. When he handed you your drink, your fingers brushed for just a moment, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest again.

“See?” he said, lifting his own drink in a mock toast. “Told you you’d have fun.”

You clinked your glass lightly against his and smiled, a little breathless but feeling more alive than you had in a long time. “Okay, you were right.”

“Gonna remember that,” he teased, his grin turning mischievous.

The rest of the night stretched ahead, full of laughter and the promise of more moments like this. You might have been reluctant at first, but Tyler had a way of making even the most hesitant steps feel like second nature.

[withlovemark]

Could you write whiny bf Haechan cause you won’t kiss, hug or cuddle him cause your busy pls? (make it long pls)

an: i tried to make this as long as i can!

warning: suggestive

“baby, im hereee,” you hear the excitement from haechan! as he entered your apartment.

“in here,” you quickly reply from your office, eyes glued to your computer, fingers typing away at the last minute task your boss had sent you.

“hi, baby,” you hear the smile in his voice, excited for the free day he finally had to be with you not knowing that you were already too deep and focused on the work in front of you.

confused as to why you haven’t reciprocated his energy, haechan makes his way over to you, softly whispering, “i said im hereee,” he teases, landing a soft kiss upon your temple.

you quickly pull away, “later, donghyuck,” knowing that the boy next to you is your biggest distraction.

“government name and everything, huh,” he frowns, arms crossed.

you were being unreasonable, you know that. but you also know that the faster you get this done, the faster you can spend the rest of your day with him - uninterrupted. so until you finish, he would just have to deal with it.

“haechan, im busy. later, ok?” you say, gentler this time but still not sparing him a glance.

“ugh fineeeee,” he says standing up, “i’ll be in your room…dying! if you even care!,” he complains dramatically before storming off and you can't help but quietly giggle to yourself at your boyfriend’s dramatic antics. you sure did miss it so.

15 minutes later

haechans booming voice startled you as he popped into the doorway of your office, making you lose focus, “can we makeout now!?”

“no...leave,” you say sternly, waving him off.

harsh, but needed to be done or else you would never get anything done.

he sighs, loudly marching back to your bedroom, making sure you could hear every step of betrayal he is currently feeling.

to be fair, you did feel awful about it. you also wanted nothing more but to wrap him in your arms.

-

10 minutes later

“how about now?,”

“haechan-,”

“babyyyy, you havent even kissed me, like hello, what happened to ‘hi my sexy adorable boyfriend haechannie i missed you so much come get all the kisses from every day you were away!?’” he pouts and you almost! break at his desperation.

“later, i promise,” you say carefully.

“you said that 25 minutes ago, its later now,”

“i really need to get this done, i promise i’m all yours after,” you give him a smile and he has no choice but to retreat back into the bedroom.

when a bad bitch tells you to do something, you just gotta do it.

-

40 minutes later

he tried. he really tried to be in his best behavior but this is absolutely ridiculous.

“okay its been past an hour, i can't take it anymore, if you don't give me at least one kiss i'm breaking up with you,” he threatens.

“haechan don't be dramatic,”

“baby i can feel myself rotting away!,” he says falling to his knees for an even more dramatic effect.

“go play a game of league, it’ll make time move faster,”

“i dont want to do thattt, i want to cuddle and hold your hand and kiss you until i can't breathe,”

“20 more minutes, pleaseee,” pulling out your puppy eyes and buying you more time.

he agrees, of course, but his patience is on thin ice.

-

exactly 20 minutes and not a second later

“heyyy my beautiful amazing girlfriend, are you ready to cuddle?,” he barges in once again.

seeing that you are still nose deep into your computer, typing away like there’s no tomorrow, he lets out a sigh.

“ok, that’s it,” marching into your office, haechan picks you up from your computer chair as you let out a startled scream before he gently places you back down on his lap, your eyes meeting the bright screen you’ve been facing for the past hour.

“what are you doing?,” you look back at him curiously.

“just wanna hold you,” he smiles innocently, hands immediately wrapping around your waist you sigh, letting it slide as you continue to work, sitting comfortably on his lap.

he keeps his word for a while watching you type then delete then retype until it all got too boring.

slowly, he moves his hand from your waist to your thighs.

“haechan-,” you warn him.

“what?, just massaging you baby, you’re so tense,” he grins, kissing your shoulder. you try your best to ignore him, not wanting to give in and haechan takes this as a sign to continue.

pushing your shorts to the side, he starts rubbing you above your panties. your breath hitches in your throat and as much as you want to tell him to stop, you can’t seem to find the words to do so. as soon as he found that spot, the clicking keyboard stopped and your boyfriend can’t help but smirk.

“will you kiss me now?,” he pleads, turning your face towards him, “pleaseee,” he pouts and you find yourself leaning in like a magnet…until…

a zoom call from your boss starts ringing throughout the room, snapping you out of your haze.

you panic, pushing haechan out of the view, before composing yourself and answering the call.

haechan sighs in defeat, guess you really do got to work.

-

two hours later

you finally finished! stretching your limbs out from sitting for so long, you wonder why the house is so quiet

“haechan!,” you excitedly call out to your boyfriend, ready to give him your full attention but you’re met with nothing but silence.

walking into your bedroom, you find your boyfriend sprawled out on your bed, light snores filling the air. you make your way to him, quietly laying by his side, careful not to wake him up, lightly brushing aside the strands of hair that have fallen over his eyes.

his hair is so long now, making you realize how much time has actually passed since you last saw him. gently you trace his features, from his sharp nose to his plump lips, the moles that sit upon his cheeks, memorizing every detail.

at your touch, haechan’s eyes flutter open, “hi,” you whisper, waking him up from his slumber.

it takes a while for him to regain his voice, looking into your eyes “am i dreaming?”

you giggle and he cant help but give you a lazy smile, “no, im here… im sorry i couldn't be present earlier, i just wanted to get it all done so i’d have more time with you,” you explain to him and he nods right away.

“it’s okay baby i understand,” he reassures you, pulling you closer.

”no, it was supposed to be an us day,” you pout, you really did feel bad about it.

”baby its okayyyy, we still have the rest of the day,” he says, placing a kiss on the frown that has etched its way upon your forehead. you sigh in content, hugging him even tighter.

“can we make out now?,” he teases, breaking the heartwarming moment the two of you were having.

you giggle before pulling him in, his soft lips finally connecting with yours.

“god, i’ve missed you so much,” he murmurs against your lips and you can't help but moan as he pulls you in closer and closer.

your hand makes its way down, palming him through his grey sweats and he can’t help but whine under your touch, “haechannie-” you purr.

“yeah, baby?,” he whimpers.

“finish what you started earlier?,” your request earns you a smirk from him.

“yes ma’am,” he salutes before finally giving you what you both have been waiting for.

-

an: thanks for requesting! had a lot of fun writing this one! im a sucker for anything haechan but whiny, annoying, desperate bf! haechan is definitely on top of that list >.<

[faesvorite]

┆ souls bound within reach. ★ ₊ ˚⟡ 

ᐟ𝜗𝜚‎₊༉⋆ a sylusmc story by faesvorite.

“These are the hands that once thrusted a sword upon my chest,” Sylus murmurs with such reverence as he leans into your palms. Turning his head slightly, he places his lips against your soft hand and takes a playful nibble on your skin. “And yet, these hands have also saved a damned soul like mine to be bound to yours.” a story in which your reoccurring dreams have finally led you back to Sylus's arms.

[notes: this is my first time ever posting here on Tumblr in a long while. very self indulgent. follow me on Twitter / X as well @faesvorite]

The wind whipped through your hair as you glance down the skyline of the N109 Zone. Standing at the very top of one of its many towers, you look around to the mess of bodies laying around the concrete roofing. As you stand by the edge of the tower's top floor, lost in thought with a recurring dream that seems to be more like reality, it was immediately snapped as you hear loud grunts behind you. Falling like flies, bodies thud down the concrete surface as you feel a familiar presence in the vicinity.

“Looks like the trash still needs to be taken care of, sweetie.” Your ears perked as you recognized that very familiar voice. Turning your head, you lock eyes with the leader of Onichynus. Sylus. Not too far behind him are the loyal twins— Luke and Kieran. The twins seem to follow his every move and every command. No surprise there that they’d be present, but you were hoping to have Sylus come alone. 

“Take care of this mess,” Sylus says with a snap of his fingers. A red string of energy manifesting around some bodies and piling them to the side as he approaches you. His eyes gleam as he stares at yours. “I can’t afford to waste anymore time not spent with a certain someone who seems to demand my attention right now.” 

You scoff. Here he goes again with the dramatics. Crossing your arms, you step off the ledge and meet Sylus’s steps halfway. “For the record,” You say as you glance up at him. “I am not demanding your attention. You invited me, and I happened to be free and wanted to chat.”

“I parked downstairs.” He says nonchalantly as he steps towards you, a hand now outstretched to your view. “Unless you want to dilly dally longer, then we should start heading out.”

———

Taking Sylus’s hand, he immediately envelops you in a comforting red mist. Sooner than you would even realize, you’ve both managed to arrive downstairs to where his motorbike was parked. Quickly tossing you your helmet, Sylus chuckles as you catch it with ease. 

“Come on,” He says smoothly as he starts the motor engine. Glancing at you, you could practically see that cocky smirk matched with that all-knowing gleam of his eyes underneath the visor of his helmet. “You’re in a rush.” You say as you place your helmet on and climb behind Sylus, wrapping your arms around his waist. Once you secure yourself embracing Sylus, he revs the engine, the powerful motorbike roaring to life beneath you. The city's ruined skyline blurred as you sped through the desolate streets of N109 Zone, a stark reminder of the world that once was. "You know me too well, sweetheart," Sylus shouted over the wind, his voice tinged with amusement. "But I'm not the only one with secrets, am I?"

You tighten your grip around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his leather jacket. Remaining silent, you take the time to ponder to yourself. There’s a reason why you wanted to talk to Sylus alone. Maybe he has the answers to the recurring nightmares you’ve been having recently. You must press on. There it goes again, echoing in your head as the wind whips through your ears. With a sigh, you take in a deep breath and focus on what’s important right now.

As you weaved through abandoned vehicles and debris, you couldn't help but wonder where Sylus was taking you.  "Somewhere special," he replied cryptically, as if sensing your curiosity through his leather jacket. "A place where we can talk without prying ears."

The motorbike suddenly veered off the main road, taking a hidden path that led deeper into the ruined side roads. You held on tighter as Sylus navigated the treacherous terrain with expert precision. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally slowed down, coming to a stop in front of a river looking over what seems to be Linkon City. 

Wait a minute, this place looks familiar. 

Sylus killed the engine and removed his helmet, revealing his piercing eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. "We're here," he announces, offering his hand to help you off the bike. As you take off your own helmet, you survey the area. You were right. This was the place where you both enjoyed each other’s company, watching fireworks in the snow after releasing the injured dove you spotted.

“Surprised?” Sylus says with a chuckle. “I had an inkling that you wanted to be somewhere else.” 

You nod, his fingers still lingering over yours. You shudder, releasing a chilly breath as the wind seems to howl even more. Noticing this rather new side of yours, Sylus takes off his leather jacket and places it on top of your shoulders. “For a hunter to come unprepared, my.. That sounds rather troublesome. Aren’t you lucky for me to be such a benevolent host?”

With a laugh, you pull his leather jacket closer to your frame. It smells like him— a mix of gin fizz lingering and the husk scent of citrus dancing around with earthy undertones. Very on brand. “Maybe I am lucky,” You murmur softly as you glance back at him. Sylus matches you laugh, amused at your rather innocent antics. 

There’s a pause between you both as you gaze at one another. It’s beginning to become like that night once more as the snow falls slowly on your heads. As you and Sylus stood under the falling snow, you felt a sudden urge to share (quite bluntly) your own troubles. Sensing your worries, Sylus raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? I can always be an ear for you if needed.” 

Smiling at him, you now feel even stronger to share the recurring dreams that had been haunting you for a while now. Lingering mixed voices seem to echo in your head once more. Replaying like a broken record that you cannot seem to shake off. You must press on… I curse your soul... to never fade away. You'll always be tied to me. Forever.

“Sylus,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "actually, there's something I need to tell you as to why I asked to see you." Taking a deep breath to gather your courage, you resume your train of thought. "I've been having these dreams... vivid ones. They feel more like memories than fantasies. And they're always about... us."

Sylus's eyebrows raise slightly, but he remains silent, encouraging you to continue. 

“In those dreams… I can’t explain it, but it sounds like those fairy tales you would tell me about a dragon.” You let out a smile, recalling your dreams of a dragon flying you up in the sky and the sounds of laughter filling your ears. “A dragon, and instead of a princess… there was someone else. A girl. She was a damsel, but never in distress… and together, they were happy.”

You notice Sylus's breath catch, but you proceed to tell what you’ve been experiencing, the words tumbling on without restraint as if you were being possessed. “They were an unlikely pair at first, but they taught each other more of one another. How to live, how to laugh, and how to love.” You feel your eyes become teary before continuing the last part. “And she lost her dragon in the end. The dragon that she loved so much and taught how to be human.” 

“And that was… us.” Your eyes meet Sylus’s soft gaze, a moment of realization now striking you as you feel your heart— the aether core searching for Sylus’s. His eyes search yours, gleaming in the night light, before releasing a huff. He remains quiet for a moment, before taking a steady step towards you to cup your cheeks and wipe away any tears threatening to fall. His hands, calloused and cold, felt warm against your cheek. Normally you would have pulled away, but you didn’t. It’s like your heart wanted this. Wanted Sylus to be this close.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. "I never thought you'd be the one to bring this up," he said softly. Your heart raced. "You mean...?"

“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.” He says softly, barely above a whisper.  "I've had those dreams too long ago. I was just waiting for you to finally realize it, to realize how we’re the same and how we’re both true kindred spirits.” 

Sylus takes your hands in his, before placing them up to his cheek.

“These are the hands that once thrusted a sword upon my chest,” Sylus murmurs with such reverence as he leans into your palms. Turning his head slightly, he places his lips against your soft hand and takes a playful nibble on your skin. “And yet, these hands have also saved a damned soul like mine to be bound to yours.”

He looks back up at you, his lips still on your hand before releasing it with a soft pop. “I’d be glad to have our souls bound to each other, my sorceress.”

As Sylus leaned in, closing the distance between you, you realized that this confession was just the beginning. And with a new beginning, you both seal it with a soft kiss.

[prime-adeptus]

Pretty in White

Jin can be good at surprises.

PAIRING.⠀Kamurai Jin x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | crushes, flirting (kinda...), fluff, they have a wedding-themed photo shoot | ~0,5k words

A/N.⠀I.....he......I saw this card for the first time just now and it launched me into the orbit WTF!!!!!!!!!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

“You know, I didn’t expect you to actually agree to this,” you speak up nervously, smoothing down the ruffles of your gown. “I thought you’d say it was a stupid assignment or something.”

“It is a stupid assignment,” Jin replies easily as he adjusts the tie around his neck. “What class is this for anyway?”

“It’s for a photography competition. I, um, owe someone in Hotarubi a favour, remember?” It feels awkward, standing so close to him that your hands are brushing against each other. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, heat rising to the tips of your ears as you try to keep your composure, though your stiffness says so otherwise. “Thanks again for doing this, by the way. Sorry to bother you.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m—”

He shoots you a glare.

“Okay. My bad. Nuh uh, don’t give me that look—I said my bad!”

He’s dressed in a pristine tuxedo, free from any dust or wrinkles. He looks handsome and regal dressed in all white, fitting for his title as the King of Frostheim. His presence seems to make your friends and their classmates tense as well, the scowl on his face a far from welcoming sight. It felt like a miracle seeing the little ‘read’ show up next to your text when you sent him a message, even more so when he replied with a simple where. A photoshoot seems like the very last thing he’d want to do, much less one themed after a wedding.

It was an impulsive decision. Your crush on Jin is relatively well-hidden (or at least that’s what you’d like to think) and though you spend most of your time fantasising, there was an urge to call for him this morning. Without thinking much, you did, and here you are now. Dressed in wedding attire with the man who stole your heart without warning. The worst part is that he doesn’t seem to have a single clue how much this is affecting you.

Why did I do this to myself?!

“Okay, so just face each other. Stand a little closer, please,” comes the voice of your friend as she readies the camera, lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Lights, please.”

“Jin?” you whisper. He responds with a grunt. “What made you agree to this?”

His arms loosely wrap around your waist and pull you closer, nonchalantly resting his hands on your hips as you stare into his eyes with flushed cheeks. Shyness creeps into your system and you want to look away but you can’t, entranced by his stone-cold gaze.

“You know why?”

“…Why?”

He leans in dangerously close, lips barely an inch away from yours. “Maybe I just wanted to see you in a wedding dress myself.”

The shutter goes off.

“Perfect! Good job, everyone. Thank you all!”

Even as the camera crew are packing up, Jin never lets go, peering down at you with the ghost of an amused smile on his face. You’re frozen in place, lips parted in shock as every possible word you know slips out of your mind, completely gobsmacked by him.

You laugh sheepishly. “D-Don’t say things like that, Captain. It might give people the wrong idea.”

“Sounds right to me.” He pulls back a little, allowing you some space to breathe. “Come see me after you’re finished. You haven’t come over in a while.”

Is this man trying to kill you?!

“Y-Yeah. Okay, sure,” you agree meekly. “I’ll come over.”

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

God, he is trying to kill you!

[lorasdolly]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐌

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

(CW: pistol penetration. inspired by: this)

Abby's broad arm held you down since you couldn't avoid squirming. Her chuckles echoed through your ears, her hand lazily tracing over your folds with her pistol. "Gonna be good now, baby?" She cooed softly, practically taunting you.

You couldn't be bothered to reply to her mockery, moans as she applied pressure on your clit with the metal. You couldn't even touch her with your hands tied above your head with her belt, it was torture.

Abby was typically soft with you, gentle, caring. She'd try to be patient, cradle your face and put you on her lap. Today you were just too bratty, too obnoxious, embarrassing her infront of everybody.

You whined and made fun of her, challenged her dominance, and she'd make sure you never forget to watch how you spoke to her, especially around others.

Tears welled at your eyes, blurring your vision. She was soooo mean. Rubbing the gun's head against your cunt for so long, you needed to be stuffed already!

She chuckled at the sight of the tears, moving her thumb to wipe your tears. "Abby, please fuck me," You whimpered, back arching off the mattress in desperation.

She shook her head, trying to draw something out of you, yet she wouldn't tell you. She stared down, letting the gun slip over your folds slowly, teasingly. You huffed, "You're so mean!" You complain, legs nearly shutting on her.

She tuts, shaking her head and watched your brows knit. She was tired of the disobedience, she needed her good girl back, her attentive baby. Her hand came to spread your legs wide open again, pressing down on your tummy.

Her arm flexed, slamming the gun inside your sopping cunt with no warning. You tried to squirm away, head thrown back and moaning. She shook her head once again, pulling you closer and thrusting it in and out, creating squelching noises. "Don't run from it, baby, c'mon."

Your moans turned into needy babbles, feeling the gun hit your g-spot over and over again. "Don't you have something to say, babydoll?" Your head was all over the place, dumb and fucked out, You watched her hand speed up, the gun's head kissing your cervix once the angle shifted.

Watching the veins in her arms made you whimper, nearing you closer to an orgasm once you remembered what landed you here anyways. "M'so sorry, Abby!" You whimpered out loud, tears dripping down your neck and she awh-ed right in your ear.

"Gooodd girl," She cooed again, "So perfect, just like that, squeezing this shit, baby,"

You nodded and circled your hips against the gun, so close to cumming all over the weapon. "Abby, so sorry, so mean to you!" You rambled on, her free hand tracing a path down your navel to your clit and rubbing it gently to stimulate an orgasm quicker.

"Gonna be good, baby?" She watched as you thoughtlessly nodded, cumming on the gun with no warning. Your legs shook, practically spamming. She slowed her movements, slowly letting you ride your high before removing it from inside you completely.

She brought it to her mouth, licking it, the scene was filthy. The sweat beads at your forehead connected with her lips as she placed a soft kiss on it. "Was I too mean?" She whispered, untying your wrists and allowing you to wrap your arms around her, legs circling her waist too.

[tfwbluu]

𝓣he 𝓥iesczy Club!

A place where seven charming hosts warmly welcome their beloved guests. To make a reservation, please contact this number: 11_ 30_

note ・ a short introduction to my 1K milestone event! feel free to check out the event post for details on how to book a session with my beloved hosts <3 *rina is me, hah. . a bit of self indulgence.

“Can’t you all just sit down and be quiet,” Rina said, her tone sharp as a frustrated look crossed her face.

The seven hosts quickly settled down, obediently taking their seats as they waited for her next command. She sighed in relief, glad to finally have some peace.

“So, as you know, we’ll be hosting an event,” she began, her voice firm but calm. “I need all of you to do your thing, follow what the guests want, and let me know if there are any complications. I don’t care how you go about it, just stick to what you’re good at. End of meeting.”

Glancing down at the clipboard in her hands, she muttered under her breath, “I might start having a headache…” She double-checked the guest list, ensuring everything was in order.

“Noona,” a voice called out, breaking her focus. She hummed distractedly and turned toward the source, only to find Riki towering over her, a teasing grin playing on his lips.

“Don’t you want to indulge in us?” he teased, leaning in close as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t need that right now,” she replied curtly, her tone unwavering as she brushed off his flirtation. Rina was no stranger to their antics, and it didn’t faze her anymore.

Sunoo, however, wasn’t as easily deterred. He approached with a soft pout and wrapped his arms around her waist, his voice sugary sweet. “Noona should be able to relax too~” he cooed, pressing light kisses to her cheek.

She gently pushed him away, earning a whine of protest. “Not now,” she said firmly.

“Keyword: now,” Jake chimed in, smirking as he leaned against the wall. “Just let us know if you need some loving, angel.”

Rina groaned in frustration, maneuvering her way out of the crowd of attractive, overconfident men. “I’ll handle the reservations. For now, go to the rooms I assigned you and get ready for the event.” She waved them off dismissively, already focused on her work.

As they exchanged amused glances and chuckled amongst themselves, they eventually turned their attention to the task at hand, leaving her in peace—for now.

A few days later, the event began in full swing. Rina sat at her post, poised and ready to greet the guests. The sound of the front door’s jingle pulled her attention, and her professional mask slid into place.

“Hello, welcome to Viesczy Club. Please drop your confirmation number under the slot,” she said, her tone calm and polite but with just enough warmth to feel inviting.

“Great, your room number is ____,” she continued smoothly, sliding the keycard through the small opening in the counter. Her perfectly manicured nails, painted a striking red, gleamed under the light, briefly catching the guest’s attention. “If you need anything, feel free to dial our number. Enjoy your stay!”

CLICK [ HERE ] TO EXPLORE OUR ARCHIVE !

TAGLIST — @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

[saraaisfree]

Hi, I seen your thinking of writing 🙂 and I wanted to send in a suggestion. A friend's to lovers troupe could be cute and he doesn't admit his feelings for the reader bc they are in a relationship but when the reader goes through a breakup, he comes over and comforts them and they end up talking where he confesses his feelings. Just an idea, feel free to write whatever! Can't wait to read it 🤍❤️💙

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 || Kwon Ji-Yong/G-Dragon

Summary: After a bad break-up your bestfriend comes over to help you feel better. While emotions are high confessions are made.

(thank you for this suggestion i hope you will enjoy this)

G-Dragon, or as you've always known him, Kwon Ji-Yong, has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. From sharing lunches in kindergarten to late nights helping him write lyrics for his songs, the two of you have been inseparable. Even after his group hit it big, he never left you behind, always trying his best to be there for you no matter what happened.

It was a simple night alone in your apartment. You were waiting for Ji-Yong to finish his dance rehearsal, as you had a movie night planned together. While preparing something to eat, your phone pinged with a message:

“Hey Y/N, I don’t think this is working between us anymore, and quite frankly, I don’t want it to. Also, I found someone else.”

The text came as a shock. You and your boyfriend had been dating for almost a year, and everything seemed to be going so well. You were even considering moving in together soon.

Slowly, you made your way to the couch and began crying softly. Picking up your phone, you texted Ji-Yong: “I think we should cancel tonight. I’m not feeling very well, and I don’t want you to get sick.” It was obviously a lie—you just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, that’s never been a problem before. Did something happen?”

You read his reply but chose not to respond.

Half an hour later, your doorbell rang. Curious, you went to see who it was. There he stood—your best friend—with two takeout bags in his hands and a sad smile on his face.

“Can I please come in? You’ve never canceled on me just because you’re sick. I’m worried about you.”

You knew you couldn’t say no to him, so you let him in. After setting the bags on the table, he joined you on the couch.

“Tell me what happened, Y/N. Please,” he urged.

You didn’t respond verbally; instead, you showed him the text message. He read it a few times, his face darkening. Without saying a word, he wrapped you in his arms.

“He was a dickhead anyway,” he said, a slight edge of anger in his voice. “He didn’t deserve you at all.”

Ji-Yong had always known he liked you—no, he loved you. But by the time he felt ready to say anything, you had already grown too comfortable with him, and he was terrified of ruining your friendship.

He never liked your boyfriends, no matter how much he tried to seem supportive. The idea of another man hugging you, kissing you, waking up next to you—it tore him apart. He wanted to tell you how he felt, to shout it to the world, but he held himself back, afraid.

“I’m really disappointed, but not surprised,” you said softly. “He always said things like that when he was mad, but this? This seems final. I guess you’re right, Ji.” You leaned into him, cuddling closer.

Hearing you call him “Ji” made his heart race. The way it fell from your lips felt like a drug. He wanted to hear it every single day.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Always.”

“I know. Thank you.”

As you finally settled down and drifted off to sleep, Ji-Yong kissed your forehead and fell asleep beside you.

The next morning, you stirred awake in his arms. He pulled you back instinctively. “No, don’t leave yet,” he mumbled, still half asleep, before realizing what he’d said. “Oh, um, I’m sorry about that.”

You smiled. The two of you had cuddled a lot as kids, but as teenagers, it became a rare occurrence. It felt nice to be in his arms again.

“Y/N,” he began hesitantly, “I need to tell you something, and it’s really important. I… I really like you. I always have. If the feeling isn’t mutual, we can pretend I never said anything, but I can’t sit around watching you get hurt by guys who don’t deserve you. It kills me to see you like this. I just… I want a chance to treat you right, to show you that love doesn’t have to be this hard—”

You interrupted him by pressing your lips to his, then resting your forehead against his. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that” you whispered.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a hunger he’d suppressed for years.

“I love you so much, L/N Y/N. I always have.”

“I love you too, Kwon Ji-Yong,” you replied.

———————————————————————-

Yooo! First ever fic!! I hope you all like it!!

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Close Enough

Part 2

You couldn’t stop replaying the words in your head.

“She’s kinda clingy, huh?”

You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversation. You’d only walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Marshall and one of his friends talked in the living room. You’d heard the comment just as you stepped out of sight.

“Yeah, I guess,” Marshall had replied, his tone nonchalant. “She just likes being around me a lot.”

That was it. Nothing overly critical or cruel, but your stomach still twisted.

Clingy.

Was that how he saw you? How his friends saw you?

You’d always thought your closeness was a good thing—how often you laughed together, how comfortable you felt draping yourself over him on the couch, and how he never seemed to mind when you followed him to the studio just to sit in the corner and read while he worked.

But now, you weren’t so sure.

Maybe you’d been suffocating him, and he was just too nice to say it outright.

The thought made your chest ache, and you resolved to give him some space. Maybe if you backed off a little, he’d appreciate you more.

---

At first, Marshall didn’t notice the subtle shift in your behavior. You still smiled when he walked into the room, still kissed him goodnight, still asked about his day.

But you didn’t linger anymore.

You stopped curling up next to him on the couch, choosing the armchair instead. You didn’t tag along to the studio, and you started making plans with friends instead of spending every free moment with him.

It was subtle, but for Marshall, it was noticeable.

By the end of the week, he was frustrated. He missed the way you’d wrap your arms around him while he played video games or sneak up behind him to kiss his cheek. He missed how you’d light up when he invited you to the studio or how you’d lay your head on his shoulder during movie nights.

And now? Now it felt like you were pulling away.

He wasn’t having it.

---

“Babe,” Marshall called from the couch as you passed through the living room. “Come sit with me.”

“I’m good here,” you said, settling into the chair across the room.

He frowned, setting down his phone. “You’ve been good *there* all week. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you replied, forcing a smile. “I just figured you’d want some space.”

“Space?” he repeated, his brow furrowing. “Why would I want space?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting as you debated whether to bring up what you’d overheard. Finally, you sighed. “I heard what your friend said the other day… about me being clingy.”

His expression shifted, confusion giving way to realization. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “And I figured he was right. I’ve been all over you, and I didn’t want to smother you, so… I backed off.”

Marshall stared at you for a moment before shaking his head and standing up. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, crouching down in front of your chair so he was eye level with you.

“Baby,” he said softly, his hands resting on your knees. “I don’t care what anyone says. I love the way you are with me.”

“But you said I was clingy—”

“No,” he cut in, his tone firm. “I didn’t. I said you like being around me, and I love that. I love how close we are, how you’re not afraid to show me you care. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you looked down, feeling both relieved and foolish. “I just didn’t want to annoy you.”

He gently tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You could never annoy me. If I thought you were too much, you’d know. But you’re not. You’re perfect, and I don’t want you to change.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you managed a small smile. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Now, get your ass over to the couch where you belong.”

You laughed, finally feeling the weight lift off your chest.

When you curled up next to him on the couch, his arm draped over your shoulders, it felt like coming home.

And as he pressed a kiss to your temple, he whispered, “Never stop being you, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, snuggling closer.

You didn’t need to ask if he meant it. You already knew.

[beatrizxsouza]

"Oh, the middle school," she smiled at Alina, "that has to be full of adventures all on its own." Bea teased as the other spoke. "Yeah," a laugh escaped her as she leaned back with Alina, "that could very well be us, but maybe that won't be so bad." It gave Bea something to look forward to, which she didn't think were possible. Her time in Kismet Harbor had been passing quickly and it was just beginning to feel like she might have a life here again. "They look like they're having fun." @alinaceyhan

She shook her head. "I don't. Actually, I work at the middle school as a school nurse. And the camp when it's opened." She explained to her. Sitting back to look at her work she smiled and nodded. "It definitely seems like we are." Alina's eyes went over to the women in the corner who were definitely drunk by now. "True. Though, give us a few years and we might be." She joked. @beatrizxsouza

[wcnderlnds]

body language | kang dae-ho

・❥・ summary: the ex marine caught your attention from the moment you met him ・❥・word count: 1k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. female reader. swearing. ・❥・ authors note: precious little dae-ho needs some love so here we are. this isn't my best work but we all know im still newish to smut 😭

Dae-ho had been the first person you had met when you entered the games. He had an energy about him that was infectious, he seemed like someone you could depend on so from the second he had opened his cute little mouth, you had decided to stay with him. A strong, loyal man was exactly what you needed to survive these games. It helped that he was incredibly charming and nice to look at. So, it was really no surprise that you found yourself pressed up against the cool of the wall behind the bunks with his lips pressed against yours moving with a ferocity of two people whose lives were on the line.

After the second game emotions had been high. The team had barely survived with only seconds to spare. Hearts had been pounding and in the heat of the moment, you had thrown your arms around Dae-ho in the biggest hug imaginable. His big, strong arms had instantly wrapped around yours whispering into your ear how glad he was that the both of you had made it, how thankful he was that he had met you. The sexual tension between the two of you after that moment could be cut with a knife. The longing glances through dinner, the brushing of hands during the vote – it had all led to his body pressing against yours in the dead of night.

At first, you’d approached him wanting to talk but finally, with no other eyes on you, the tension had hit breaking point. His body had you against the wall before you could even blink, his hands on either side of your head as his lips devoured yours. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly close. It was like you needed him to breath. The only thing you cared about was this former Marine having his hands all over you.

“What if someone catches us?” He whispered against your lips. Ever the cautious one.

“They won’t. Everyone’s too busy worrying about the next game and I’m sure we’re not the only ones having a little moment to ourselves,” your voice was a seductive whisper as your hand slid down between his legs. The outline of his cock prominent against the restraints of his sweatpants. You palmed him through his clothes, gently rubbing against his hardening length. He bit his lower lip, holding back the groan threatening to escape. His hand moved to grab yours, guiding you into his sweatpants. He wanted more. He needed more. 

Sliding his hand into his underwear, you grasped his cock giving it a soft squeeze. The small whimper coming from Dae-ho was like music to your ears as you slowly began stroking up and down his thick length. You hadn’t even laid eyes on it yet but you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. He was thick, the thought alone of him stretching you out was enough to make your thighs clench. Your hand continued to move along him, picking up speed. Dae-ho was biting his lip so much you were sure he was about to draw blood. 

Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around your wrist putting your movements to a halt. His breath came heavy as you spoke. “If you don’t stop, I’ll finish before we even get to the good part.”

There wasn't even a chance to reply as he spun you around, your hands pressed against the wall, his cock brushing against your ass. His calloused fingers dove into the front of your sweatpants feeling how wet you already were. Just to be sure you were ready, he dove into your panties, his fingers easily sliding through your folds; your slickness coating his digits.  In a flash he pulled your sweatpants and panties down in one fell swoop, freeing his own cock. He grinded against you, the feeling of his hardness sliding against you making you gasp.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, cock in his hand as he positioned himself.

“Yes, please just fuck me, Dae-ho,” you whimpered, pushing back against him feeling the head of his cock press into you. With his hands on your hips, he slowly pushed himself inside you until his pelvis was fully pressed against your ass – his cock deep inside your pussy.

His thrusts were slow, the drag of his length making you moan quietly. Who cares if there were people around? Who cares if someone caught you? In that moment, all you cared about was getting fucked enough to forget about the horrors going on around you. His fingers gripped your hips softly, his hips pulling almost all the way out then slamming back into you. Your head fell as he continued, your body jerking forward with every thrust. 

He leaned over, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You like that? Like the way that feels, huh?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Your pleading moans only spurred him on, giving him the courage and consent he needed to kick things up a notch. His calloused fingers slid up under your shirt, squeezing your breasts as he picked up his pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard but, luckily, the players' snores covered it up. The grunts coming from him signalled his impending release. That all too familiar feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m gonna…. fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He slammed into you one, two, three more times before his release flooded your insides, filling you up. The feeling of him grinding against you, pushing his seed into you trigged your own release. Your walls clamped down around him as you moaned his name, biting into your own forearm to muffle the sound. Your body shook, breath coming out in short bursts. Dae-ho pulled out of you, making sure to clean you up with some tissue he’d taken from the bathrooms earlier. He threw it under the bed, helping you pull your own clothes back on.

Spinning you around, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb lightly stroking over your cheek. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too hard, did I?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile. “You were perfect. I like you, Dae-Ho so… stay alive, please. I want to be able to do this again properly.”

He pressed a light kiss to your nose, a silly little smirk on his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

[thebarneschronicles]

Closer to Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think.

A/N: This was supposed to be something else ENTIRELY. But it just unravelled and here we are! Please, feel free to let me know your thoughts about it! B xx

This is a series, you can click here for part 2.

--

Your relationship with Bucky hadn’t started with fireworks or dramatic confessions—it began like any other normal relationship: after drinks and a movie.

It was a quiet evening, the kind that felt heavier after long hours at your desk. You were finally wrapping up for the night, shrugging on your coat and slinging your purse over a shoulder. The clock had just ticked past 10 p.m., though it hardly felt late to you. Still, your shoulders sagged under the tension of the day—hours spent poring over intel, trying to uncover scraps of information that might help Sam and Bucky on their next mission.

“You shouldn’t be walking home alone.”

You looked up to find Bucky leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed. His voice was gruff but not unkind, his blue eyes shadowed but steady.

“It’s just a few blocks,” you replied, already bracing for the argument.

His jaw tightened—a subtle shift, but one you’d come to recognize as the start of his infamous stubborn streak. “Doesn’t matter. My ma would haunt me if I let you.”

That earned him a laugh. “Your 'ma' sounds like quite the character.”

“She was,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’ll walk you.”

You didn’t argue further, mostly because you were too tired to win, and partly because there was something oddly comforting about his protectiveness, even if it came wrapped in brooding silences and sharp glances.

Being around Bucky had taken some getting used to. You knew about him, of course—who didn’t? But nothing had prepared you for the sheer intensity of James Buchanan Barnes up close. His unrelenting stares, his quiet presence that somehow filled a room, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.

When you’d first joined their team as the “girl in the chair” (a term Sam insisted on despite your repeated protests that you were, in fact, a woman), you hadn’t known what to expect. Your days as a research journalist had been left behind in favor of a role that felt more like a sidekick to two superheroes. Never the hero, always the support.

“It’s not nothing, though,” Sam had told you once, catching you mid-eye-roll during a particularly grueling debrief. “You’re saving lives too, y’know. Every name, every address you dig up? That’s someone else’s tomorrow you’re protecting.”

Still, the job came with its own toll: exhaustion, migraines, and a constant ache in your wrists from hours of typing. But it also came with a quiet sense of purpose—and Bucky’s occasional company.

At first, his silences had been intimidating, his brooding presence almost oppressive. But you met him with unwavering kindness—bringing him coffee when he looked like he needed it, or letting him retreat into your office to escape Sam’s chatter. Slowly, the silences grew shorter, and the stares softened into something more watchful.

Now, walking beside him under the soft glow of streetlights, the quiet felt less like distance and more like understanding.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “is this a one-time chivalry thing, or do I get an official escort service from now on?”

Bucky snorted. “You’re assuming I’m doing this for you.”

“Oh, really?” you teased, grinning. “Who else is benefitting from my safe arrival home?”

He glanced at you, a spark of humor flickering in his eyes. “Sam’ll never let me hear the end of it if something happens to you. Man loves his lectures.”

“Ah,” you said, mock-serious. “So I’m saving you from Sam’s wrath. Got it.”

He didn’t answer right away, but his pace slowed slightly, his hand brushing the base of your spine as you turned a corner, like he was directing towards home. “Maybe I just like making sure you’re okay,” he muttered.

Your heart stuttered at his words, a quiet ache blooming in your chest, but you didn’t dare press him further. Hope was a dangerous thing, a fragile spark that had burned you one too many times before. It was safer to tuck it away, to pretend his words meant nothing more than what he’d said—a simple gesture of kindness, nothing deeper.

You were friends, after all... right? Or at least, friendly. He was kind to you, yes, but Bucky Barnes was kind in a way that felt carefully measured, like a soldier fulfilling his duty. He was a gentleman through and through, the kind who’d been raised to believe it was his responsibility to make sure no lady faced the dangers of the night alone.

“His mah would’ve expected nothing less,” you thought wryly, your lips tugging into a faint smile.

He was a man out of time, after all. Decades removed from the era he was born into, yet somehow still anchored there, even now. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rules he followed were the same ones ingrained into him all those years ago. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to believe that than to let yourself hope he cared for any reason beyond habit or honor.

“Almost there,” he said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. His hand hovered near your elbow, steady and sure, as if ready to catch you should you stumble.

The steps to your door loomed far too quickly for your aching heart, bringing an abrupt end to your time with the brooding soldier. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if your body was reluctant to leave his quiet, steady presence.

You paused on the final step, its height almost eliminating the difference between you and Bucky. It gave you just enough courage to look up at him, your fingers nervously twisting around the strap of your purse.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He dipped his head in a single nod, his icy blue eyes flickering down to meet yours. His expression, as always, was unreadable, cast in shadows under the dim streetlamp. “Anytime.”

The simplicity of his reply made your chest tighten. You nodded in return, swallowing hard as your heart hammered in your throat. Turning away from him, you fixed your gaze on your front door, willing yourself to move forward, to end the moment before it unraveled you completely.

Friends. That’s all this was. It had to be.

So why did it feel so wrong to turn your back on him? Why did it feel like you were forcing yourself to betray something deeper, something unspoken, simply by walking away?

Your hand was on the doorknob before you realized you’d stopped moving, the quiet war between your heart and your mind reaching a fever pitch. You squeezed your eyes shut, battling the urge that rose in you like a wave.

Don’t do it. Just go inside. Let him leave.

But the battle was already lost. Before you could stop yourself—before logic could wrestle control away from the reckless beating of your heart—you turned. Your feet moved without permission, carrying you back down the steps toward him.

It wasn’t a decision so much as a pull, steady and undeniable, the words slipping from your lips as if carried on a tide of longing you couldn’t resist.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?”

The words tumbled out unbidden, your voice trembling just enough to betray how desperately you wanted him to say yes.

His reaction couldn’t have been more Bucky if he tried. His eyes shifted, and you swore you could see every emotion flash through them—surprise, hesitation, something a lot like longing—before they settled back into the stoic mask he always wore. Quiet. Unimpressed. Broody. And yet…

“I wouldn’t mind a beer.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest, shaky with relief, and you motioned toward your door. “Well, come on then. I’ve got a six-pack that’s been waiting for some company.”

His presence filled the small apartment in a way that made your breath catch, the air somehow heavier, more electric. How many times had your silly, stubborn heart conjured up this exact scenario? Late at night, Bucky standing just inside your door, peeling off his worn leather jacket and tugging off the gloves that shielded both metal and flesh. Then, as if he’d done it a thousand times, he’d settle into a corner of your couch, legs spread, shoulders sinking back into the soft fabric like he belonged there.

“There's Heineken, Bud, and Corona,” you said, your voice only slightly betraying your nerves as you toed off your shoes and dropped your keys and purse by the door. “I think I might even have some whiskey stashed away somewhere. What’s your poison?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze trailing lazily around the room before settling back on you. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

Your stomach flipped, and you nodded, biting back the grin threatening to stretch across your face. “Sure thing,” you said casually, though you were certain the flush creeping up your neck gave you away.

You turned toward the kitchen, your heart doing an embarrassing little leap as you busied yourself rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. The clink of bottles felt absurdly loud in the quiet apartment, every moment stretching with the weight of his presence just beyond your line of sight.

“Nice place,” he called from the living room, his tone casual but laced with something warmer.

“Thanks,” you replied, grabbing two beers and popping the caps off with practiced ease. “I’d say make yourself at home, but it looks like you’ve already got that covered.”

When you re-entered the room, there he was—exactly as you’d imagined so many times before. His jacket was draped over the back of the couch, his gloves neatly set beside it, and Bucky himself sprawled out comfortably. His metal hand rested casually on his knee, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes met yours.

“Here you go, Mr. Barnes,” you said, forcing a steady smile as you handed him the green bottle.

“To your first visit,” you began, raising your own bottle in a toast. You couldn’t help the way your gaze lingered, taking in the sight of his broad frame on your couch, the casual way he sat, the sheer presence of him filling the space. Warmth pooled low in your belly, and before you could stop yourself, you added, “May it be the first of many.”

His smirk deepened at that, a flicker of amusement flashing across his features. He raised his bottle silently, going for a sip—but you stopped him, your hand darting out to rest on his.

“Wait!” you blurted, your palm lightly pressing against his larger one.

His frown was slight, his gaze shifting between your hands before settling on your face. “Why?”

“You have to look at me when we cheers,” you explained, your voice a little breathless, a little unsure of what you were doing but too far in to back out now.

His brow arched. “And why’s that?”

“Bad luck if you don’t. Years of it.” You shrugged, suddenly feeling the ridiculousness of your own words but refusing to back down. “I mean, I can’t even count how many years... Probably best not to risk it.”

For a second, you thought he might argue. But then he chuckled, a soft sound that sent a flutter straight to your chest. “God knows I’ve had enough of that already, haven’t I?”

You giggled, your laughter bubbling out, light and carefree. The fact that he played along felt like a victory, a small but monumental crack in his stoic armor.

With a glint of something softer in his eyes, he tilted his head toward you, his gaze locking with yours. “Alright, doll,” he said, his voice quieter now, warmer. “Let’s do it properly.”

Eyes steady on yours, he clinked his bottle against yours, the sound sharp and satisfying in the quiet room. And then, he didn’t look away—not for a second—as he took a slow sip.

You followed suit, the contact between your eyes and his making your heart race so fast you thought it might burst. The heat in his gaze was steady, grounding, and yet it sent a thrilling, electric charge through you that made your knees nearly buckle.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low, the faintest curve to his lips as he lowered his bottle.

“Much,” you replied, somehow managing to keep your voice steady, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

The air between you seemed to shift then, heavier but no less comforting—a new tension that simmered beneath the surface. If Bucky noticed the way your gaze lingered on him, the way your breath hitched every time his hand grazed your knee as he reached for another beer, he never said a thing.

He was the perfect gentleman, as always. Even when you slid closer on the couch, settling beside him on the plush cushions - even though there were a whole three other seats available to you. Even when you turned toward him, resting your head on your palm, your eyes tracing the strong lines of his face while you rambled about the mission reports piling up on your desk. He didn’t even glance at your neckline when you leaned over him to grab the remote, though you couldn’t help but steal a quiet inhale of his scent—clean, warm, unmistakably him.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the quiet. “I feel like I’m torturing you by making you listen to all this. Do you feel like watching something?” Your tone was cheery, light, but your heart raced at the thought of sharing something as simple and intimate as watching a film together.

With your eyes fixed on the TV, you missed the brief hesitation in his expression—the flicker of doubt that crossed his face and quickly vanished. Yet, neither the guilt, the fear, nor the pain that lingered in his soul seemed strong enough to stop him from embracing what you offered so openly: a chance to simply be. For the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky seemed just a little less burdened by the shadows of his past, a ghost of his old self and a lot of his new one urging him to give in.

“What’s on Netflix?” he asked, his voice low and casual.

Your head whipped around so quickly you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “How do you know what Netflix is?”

His lips quirked into a rare, genuinely amused smile, the kind that made your stomach flip. “I’m old, but I’m not that old, doll.”

“You’re 106,” you shot back, arching a brow.

“And yet, I still know what streaming is,” he countered, the smile growing. “I’m not living under a rock.”

“Well, I am impressed, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, settling back into the cushions. “What else do you know about modern technology? Please tell me you’ve at least heard of TikTok.”

His expression shifted into something closer to a scowl, but the playful glint in his eye betrayed him. “I know about TikTok,” he said, sounding almost offended. “And dating apps. God, the horrors,” he added, shaking his head dramatically as he glanced at his phone like it was some sort of ancient relic.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound warm and genuine, filling the cozy space between you. But beneath the humor, your stomach twisted with an unexpected knot. Dating apps?

“What about dating apps?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but the curiosity in your voice was hard to hide.

Bucky groaned, slouching deeper into the couch as though the thought of them physically pained him. “I don’t know, doll. They just seem... unnatural. All these profiles and swiping left or right, like you’re picking a product instead of a person. Not my thing.” His voice held a certain distaste, and the casual way he said it made you wonder if he was speaking from experience—or just his own strong sense of principle.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the questions bubbling up inside you. Had he ever used them? Was he speaking from personal experience, or just from watching the chaos unfold around him? Your thoughts shifted uncomfortably, and you tried to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

“I get it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s... kind of weird, honestly. It’s like shopping for a date, but with less... quality control.” You shot him a teasing grin, but the tightness in your chest was hard to ignore.

Bucky chuckled, the sound a low rumble that was soothing, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Exactly. I mean, if I’m gonna meet someone, I’d rather it be... I don’t know, real? Not behind a screen.”

For some reason, his comment made your heart stumble, a traitorous beat skipping out of rhythm. You quickly dropped your gaze to your beer, hoping the reaction wasn’t written all over your face. Was he hinting that he preferred real, in-person connections? That he’d rather... meet someone like that?

You cleared your throat, feigning casual interest to mask the swarm of uncertainty rising inside. “So, how would you go about it? Finding a date, I mean. Is Sam your wingman?”

Bucky nearly choked on his beer, shaking his head vehemently. “God, no! Can you imagine? He’s too busy being Captain America to care about my love life... except when he’s accusing me of flirting with his sister.”

The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk, and your chest tightened with something sharp and unwelcome. Jealousy. You bit down on your bottom lip, trying to chase it away. “I didn’t know you liked Sarah,” you said, and to your horror, the disappointment in your voice was impossible to hide.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the shift in your tone. “She’s great,” he said with a thoughtful nod. Then his lips curved knowingly. “But not like that.”

The heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks was impossible to ignore, and Bucky’s sly grin told you he’d noticed. Your relief collided with your curiosity, the two tangling into a dangerous need to know more. “Oh,” you started hesitantly. “So... if not her, then who?”

He took another sip of his beer, the pause deliberate. “Had one date with the waitress from that Asian place we always order from. It… didn’t go well.”

Your brows furrowed. “And you haven’t tried again since then?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, the movement deceptively casual. “You know how it is these days—apps, algorithms, everyone judging you by a couple of photos and a bio. And who’s lining up to date a former assassin, huh? People know too much, too soon. Real connections don’t happen that way.”

The self-deprecating edge in his voice made your heart ache. You tilted your head, studying the way his vibranium fingers tapped lightly against the beer bottle. “Maybe,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the nervous thrum beneath your skin, “you’re looking in the wrong places.”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp and searching. “Oh yeah?” he asked, voice low, almost daring. “And where do you think I should look?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, his attention. “Maybe a little closer to home,” you murmured, eyes resolutely fixed on the beer bottle in your own hands.

The silence that followed was electric, charged with unspoken possibilities that hung in the air like static. His gaze lingered on you, steady and intense, and you could feel it even without looking up. It made your pulse race in a way you didn’t dare acknowledge.

The truth was, you weren’t sure if you were just caught up in the moment—or if there was something more lingering in his words, in the way he was looking at you now.

You wanted to ask. The question burned on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But a part of you hesitated, afraid of the answer. What if this was nothing more than friendly banter? What if pushing further shattered the comfortable connection you’d built?

“Closer to home, huh?” Bucky’s voice was a low rumble, breaking the silence but not the tension. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and for a moment, it felt like he was closing the space between you. “And what does that mean, exactly? You got someone in mind for me, doll?”

There it was—that nickname. The one you pretended to hate but secretly adored. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the corner of your mouth twitch, betraying the smile you tried to suppress. His voice was so close it warmed you from head to toe. “I’m just saying,” you replied, forcing your tone to stay neutral, “maybe you’re overthinking it. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you.”

His lips quirked, his expression softening as if he’d caught onto something unsaid. “You think so?” Bucky asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

You dared to turn your head and glance at him, and the way his blue eyes locked onto yours stole whatever breath you had left. “Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know so.”

The moment stretched between you, fragile and heavy with unspoken words. You swore he was leaning closer, his gaze flickering briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. And suddenly, the question burning in your chest felt inevitable.

“Bucky…” you began, voice trembling slightly, unsure of what you were about to say—or what he might say back.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky’s voice was gentle, a thread of warmth in the charged air between you.

You hesitated, but the weight of your emotions was too much to carry any longer. “Is this a date?” you finally blurted, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

For a moment, his expression didn’t change, and then he shook his head slowly. “It’s not,” he said, his voice steady but quiet.

Your chest tightened, and the disappointment hit hard, like a blow you hadn’t braced for. You tried to mask it, but your face betrayed you, your shoulders sagging under the weight of the rejection. The ache in your heart grew with every second of silence that followed, the room feeling colder with each passing beat.

What you missed was the storm raging behind his steel-blue eyes—the internal battle he fought against his demons, the ones that screamed he wasn’t good enough for you. Wasn’t good enough for anyone. He’d carried those ghosts for too long to ignore them now. But he wasn’t blind.

He’d noticed the way your smile softened when it was meant for him, brighter and warmer than it ever was for anyone else. He’d seen how you fretted over him after missions, your hands fluttering with concern even at the smallest scratch on his skin. And he’d felt the hope radiating from you tonight when you’d invited him over, your words laced with a vulnerability you rarely showed.

Bucky knew. He’d known for a while. And that knowledge both terrified and thrilled him. Love, in any form, was fragile—he’d learned that the hard way. But tonight, sitting here with you, he realized he couldn’t keep running from the possibility of it.

He wanted you. Your laughter, your kindness, your stubbornness, your touch. He craved all of it. And maybe he didn’t deserve it, but for once in his long life, he wanted to try.

Bucky set his beer down, his movements deliberate, and leaned closer. His flesh hand brushed against the back of your arm and the touch sent a shiver up your arm. 

“It’s not a date,” he repeated, voice low but filled with a quiet resolve that made your breath catch, hurt twisting at your heart.

Your brow furrowed, the downturn of your lips impossible to hide. “Heard you the first time…”

“This isn’t a date,” he pressed on. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, he added, “But it could be.”

Your heart skipped, his words hanging in the air like a lifeline. “Bucky…”

Cutting through your hesitation, his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching, steady. “If you want this… if you want me, I’m yours. I want to try.”

The vulnerability in his voice left you breathless, stealing any coherent thought you might have had. For the first time in what felt like forever, hope blossomed in your chest, warm and radiant. You didn’t hesitate this time, your lips curving into a soft, trembling smile.

“Is this because you’re afraid of the apps?” you teased, the quip breaking the intensity just enough for you to breathe. But your voice wavered slightly, and your eyes glistened with the tears threatening to spill. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your virtue?”

Bucky chuckled, low and genuine, the sound sending warmth curling in your chest. “I’m not a damsel in distress, doll,” he said, his tone playful as his fingers brushed a strand of hair away from your face. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into it instinctively.

“And you’re also not the big bad wolf you think you are,” you countered softly, your voice tinged with both affection and defiance.

“Well, technically…” His lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “I am the White Wolf.”

You rolled your eyes, the tension breaking into something lighter, something safe. “He jokes,” you said, shaking your head. “He could be kissing instead…”

His grin softened, and for a beat, he just looked at you, his hand still lingering near your face. Then, as if your words had given him permission, he leaned in, closing the space between you in a way that felt both inevitable and extraordinary.

“Guess I’ll take your advice for once, doll,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips.

The moment his lips touched yours, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. His kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than an assumption, as though he wanted to be sure this was what you truly wanted. His warm hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your cheekbone, while his vibranium hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding him in the moment.

You sighed into the kiss, your hand instinctively reaching up to thread through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The movement drew him closer, and he obliged, deepening the kiss with a soft groan that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours in a way that spoke of patience and restrained hunger, like he was savoring every second of this moment.

His vibranium hand finally moved, finding your waist with surprising tenderness. The cool metal was a stark contrast to the heat of his other hand through the fabric of your shirt, but it pulled you to the reality of him—both the man he was and the one he’d fought so hard to become.

When you parted briefly for air, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours in the small space between you. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and brimming with emotions he didn’t have to say out loud.

“Doll…” he whispered, his voice rough and full of awe, like he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

But you weren’t done. You weren’t ready to let the moment slip away. Sliding your hand from his neck to his jaw, you tilted his face back toward yours, brushing your lips against his again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. He responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as his mouth moved against yours with more certainty, more passion.

The kiss deepened, growing warmer, more insistent. Your bodies angled closer together, his presence consuming your senses. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, and the faint rasp of his stubble as it brushed against your skin only made the experience more intoxicating.

You weren’t sure how it happened—one moment you were pressed against the back of your couch, his hands and lips demanding your full attention, and the next, you were straddling his thighs. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your harsh breaths mingled, the taste of his tongue intoxicating and impossible to resist.

For all his claims of being a man out of his time, Bucky Barnes knew exactly how to touch a woman. His hands were a perfect dichotomy: one warm and strong, the other cool and unyielding, but both equally firm and commanding. His touch left no room for doubt or hesitation, responding to every unspoken plea you hadn’t yet found the words for.

And his kiss? God, his kiss. You could write sonnets about the way his lips moved against yours, the way his tongue teased and claimed you, coaxing a need from you that you hadn’t known you were capable of. None of your wildest fantasies could compare to the reality of him, his body pressed against yours, solid and capable. The things it could do—what it was doing, what it promised to do—set your whole body alight with yearning.

You kissed him harder, deeper, needier, your hips moving instinctively against his. His groan rumbled low in his chest, a sound that only made you crave him more. But just as your movements grew more desperate, his vibranium hand clamped firmly on your hips, halting your rhythm. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, gentle but insistent, forcing you to break the kiss.

“Doll…” His voice was rough, laced with a warning that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You blinked at him, still dazed, heat crawling under your skin as you realized what you’d done. “Yes, I’m sorry, I know—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling against yours as his steel-blue eyes bore into yours. The hunger there mirrored your own, and the restraint in his grip only made you want him more.

Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, your own need warring with the desire to break the tension. “Seems like I really am trying to steal your virtue, huh?” you joked, your voice light but shaky as you turned your head to press a soft kiss to his palm.

His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through the hunger. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, his hand slipping from your jaw to trail gently along your cheek, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

Your free hand wrapped around his vibranium one, your thumb tracing the grooves of the metal. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with promise as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the charged silence stretching as his hands anchored you, holding you steady but never pushing. His restraint was palpable, and you knew without a doubt—if you wanted more, he would give it to you willingly. But only if you asked.

You wouldn’t, though. Not tonight.

Instead, you leaned in, brushing soft, sweet kisses against his lips, your movements unhurried and tender. Each kiss felt like a promise, an unspoken assurance that there was no rush, no need for anything more than this moment. It took superhuman strength—the kind he had—not to let it escalate.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling and your cheeks warm. His eyes searched yours, and the way he looked at you—like you were the most precious thing in the world—made your heart swell. His thumb grazed your cheek, his smile soft and genuine.

“How about that movie?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes betrayed a depth of emotion that made your breath catch.

You laughed, the sound breaking the last remnants of tension and filling the cozy space around you. “Alright, fine. Let’s find something to watch, then. Any preferences?”

“Anything but those baking shows Sam keeps trying to get me into,” he muttered, his lips quirking in faint exasperation.

A giggle bubbled out of you at the mental image of Sam dragging Bucky into a world of frosting, sprinkles, and delicate pastries. The idea was so absurd yet so perfectly Sam that you couldn’t help yourself. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, your lips lingering just long enough to feel the faint rasp of stubble. “Deal. No baking shows.”

As the two of you settled back onto the couch, scrolling through movie options, the tension between you shifted again—this time, it was softer, lighter, wrapped in a warmth that felt safe and steady.

Bucky stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absently brushing against your shoulder as you leaned into him, your body naturally seeking his. And for the first time in a long time, you noticed something different about him. The shadows that usually haunted his expression seemed to have lifted, replaced by something quieter, something calmer.

Here, with you, Bucky wasn’t the broken soldier or the ex-assassin haunted by his past. He was just… himself. And in that moment, you realized that’s all you’d ever wanted him to be.

[writersdrug]

Bartender!Simon accidentally running into Waitress!Reader while she’s carrying a bunch of drinks for a table, causing them to spill all over herself 👉🏻👈🏻

Even more bonus points if she’s dressed in a white shirt, iykyk 👀

You're onto something here

Also, combining this with the ask about reader snooping through Simon's flat on the 3rd floor

Warnings: NSFW, slight humiliation, Simon goes from gentleman to having nasty nasty thoughts

It's a busy night - when mid-September rolls in, the nights get colder, and people gravitate towards the warm lighting of the bar through the street-front window. You still have a couple of hours left on your shift, which means Ghost still has a while, too.

He can't remember how many beers he's poured tonight. The noise of the shaker is drowned out by the buzz in his head. Mack wants another PBR. Table eleven still needs their shots and two Martinis. He's in the zone, pouring liquor and juices and bitters with practiced skill. He catches every word from the patrons at the bar - at least, every order. He mumbles out a quick "step back, please" when a gaggle of girls tries to stand near the end of the bar, waiting for their drinks. The bar is completely seated, people stuffing themselves between chairs to place their orders. Somon's got half a mind to tell them to clear out and get the fuck back, but he has to be civil. It won't be this hellish for too much longer - Price texted Simon that he'd be there in a bit to help.

Simon's more concerned about you: you're running around, delivering food and drink, bringing condiments and refilling waters - you're weaving between tables, maneuvering around bodies with a quick "sorry" or "scuse me"... you're at one table, and in the blink of an eye, you're at another. Simon sometimes doesn't realize you went into the kitchen until you're busting the door open with plates of food. You're covered in a light sheen of sweat, your usual chipper attitude dampened by the Friday night rush. Simon doesn't miss the way you scowl when you hear a table calling for you, when both of your hands are full.

You push yourself through the crowd of girls hovering by the end of the bar. You huff, grabbing a tray and some glasses. "Is it national 'Go to a Bar' day?" You mumble, squeezing behind Simon and heading to the free soda gun.

He barely makes an effort to reply. "Must be." He grunts, pulling several bottles from the shelves and setting them on the counter. He's snatching this and that - you fill your glasses with water, sliding behind him and grabbing the various drinks on the end of the back and stacking them on your tray.

A man elbowed his way between the patrons at the bar. "Can I get another DogFish IPA?" He says, sticking his glass across the bar.

Simon groans internally, but he keeps a stoic face. He quickly leans to his left and reaches for the glass - right as you were picking up your tray, now stacked with drinks. You stumble back, not expecting Simon to be so close to you, and bump into one of the girls that crowds by the bar's entrance.

Simon feels his stomach drop when he sees each of the glasses topple over. You're instantly drenched, alcohol splashing across your eyes, which you have squeezed shut from the onslaught of fluids. Your shirt is absolutely soaked; a few of the glasses fall to the ground and shatter upon impact, alerting the entire bar and making their heads turn to you - the man who handed Simon the glass is ogling at you shamelessly, and the girl you'd bumped into turns around with a simple oh…

You're frozen, eyes wide and your entire front soaking. Your white shirt is practically see-through, clinging to your skin and providing little coverage for your pink, lacy bra. You look mortified and on the verge of tears. Your panicked stare drifts to Simon - you think he's going to yell at you, or worse: give you the silent treatment for the rest of the night because he's too frustrated to speak.

Simon is trying to keep his own staring under wraps – your tits look absolutely tantalizing, hugged so tightly by your wet shirt – but he snaps out of his daze when he sees your teary eyes. He drops everything - you're the most important person in the room right now. He quickly takes the tray from you and sets it aside.

"Here-" he shoves a fresh rag into your hands. "Cover up with that." He says, taking you by your shoulders and leaning down to your level. "Third floor, there's a dresser on th' left side, second drawer has shirts. Go dry off 'n get a new shirt, I'll clean this up."

You're too stunned to cry. You're angry, embarrassed, frustrated... there's so much happening around you, so many eyes staring at your fuck-up, but Simon's eyes keep you from losing control of your emotions. He doesn’t seem angry or irate – he’s worried about you. Shouldn't you help him clean up? It's your mess after all. "But-"

"Hush. Go on, luv - you're practically see-through." He quickly turns you around and gently shoves you into the crowd, and you hurry away to the stairwell without protest, holding the rag close to your chest.

Simon sighs. The pub slowly starts to return to normal, though people aren't trying as hard to get their drinks. A sense of shame seems to hang around everyone’s heads, though there was only one party at fault, here. He stares daggers at the girls who are still hovering by the bar. The one you ran into is gawking back in fear - she knows she messed up.

"Get the fuck back." Simon seethes, storming over to the POS. They all scramble away and press against the wall, afraid he might start swinging at them. "Finish ya drinks and leave. 'M closin' your tab. You're done."

They dissipate back into the crowd, right as Soap pops his head out of the kitchen. "Heard a crash, ye alright?"

"Fuckin' wankers can't understand simple orders." Simon grumbles, grabbing a broom from the corner and sweeping up the glass. "Slag couldn't get her ass out th' fuckin walkway and made bird spill a tray."

"Christ, she ok?"

"Upstairs. Changin'. Shirt nearly disappeared when it got wet."

"Need me tae check up on-"

"Got a fuckin' kitchen t' run, don't ya?"

Johnny scoffs and disappears back into the kitchen. Simon continues sweeping - he spots Price jogging up to the building throught he street front window, and he sighs in relief.

Upstairs, you do just as Simon instructed. You're topless, your bra still a bit damp after you tried to towel-dry it with he rag Simon gave you. You're sifting through his drawer, face scrunched as you shuffle through and inspect each shirt. You're a bit miffed at how many plain, black t shirts he has - has he ever stepped foot into an Old Navy? - but, eventually, you hit the jackpot.

You pull a shirt from the very bottom of the drawer. It's army green, a bit worn over the years, with a bit of a natural, masculine musk clinging to it. The right front chest has a skull, a sword, and wings, along with the table "Task Force 141". On the back, in large letters: "LT. RILEY".

A smile creeps its way onto your face. He never said which shirt... he said any shirt. And this is the one you want.

Your bra comes off quicky, the fabric still wet and uncomfortable. You toss it somewhere on the bed behind you – you’re sure Simon wouldn’t mind if you hung it over the back of his chair, right? Can’t be wearing a wet bra while you’re running around the restaurant; you’d have a bra-shaped water stain on your shirt. Or, worse – you’d get sick. And you know for a fact (though he’s never said it to you) that Simon would kick himself if you got sick on the job.

You quickly pull the shirt on - it swallows you, both in size and scent. It smells just like him - the bodywash you catch a whiff of when you pass him, the slight muskiness that surrounds you when he reaches above you to grab something - it's all there, just tenfold. You stand up and pull it down; it covers your thighs down to your shorts, almost making it look like you weren’t wearing any to an unassuming person.

You take a peek around the room: it’s quite cozy, even with a lack of real décor. The bed sits against the middle of the wall, with Carolina blue sheets and a grey comforter. The pillows look rather worn, but there’s at least three of them. There’s a television on the dresser that faces the bed, and a small bookshelf in the corner next to an antique-looking chair, except the shelf is filled with mostly keepsakes and memorabilia. Any books in the room are stacked on the edges of the two bay windows, embedded in the brick wall that faces the street. The only lighting comes from three lamps: one on the nightstand by his bed, a taller one next to the clothes rack near the bathroom, and a lantern-looking lamp that he’s somehow attached next to the door.

Curiosity gets the better of you – discovering anything about Simon that he hasn’t already told you is like striking oil. You pad over to the shelf, leaning down to inspect the various objects. A balaclava, rolled up and tucked behind a box. In said box is a medal, bronze and dull, with a fist tightly holding a blazing torch. A worn-down pair of sunglasses lay next to a ring. A green stone sits on a silver band, nestled between two ivy vines. There’s a picture of the four of them: Simon, Johnny, Price, and even Kyle – you had assumed they had met Kyle through the restaurant industry, but there they all were. Dressed in military uniforms, holding guns and posing with stern faces in front of a helicopter. Simon was wearing a rather terrifying skull mask, the rest of him completely covered by his uniform. You were only able to recognize Simon from his brown eyes, but the man in the photo looked entirely different from the bartender downstairs.

Fuck! You completely forgot that you were a waitress, sniffing around your manager’s office when you should be tending to your tables. You turned on your heel and left Simon’s room, running down the stairs two at a time.

Simon was still in the eye of the storm – barely a word had been passed between him and Price, other than a simple hello when he had first hopped behind the bar. Simon was keeping an eye on your tables, which were currently satisfied for the time being – but damn, what was taking you so long? Were you showcasing all of his shirts? The thought of that would’ve had him biting his cheek to prevent a boner, but he was too busy to be anything but concerned for you.

On cue, you come bounding down the stairs, throwing yourself back into the busy crowd as you tie your server apron around your waist. Simon pours a tap, barely able to make out your form flitting through the crowd, making sure your tables are well-off and happy. Price calls your name over the din of the crowd, and you squeeze yourself through the mass of people to collect the drinks sitting on the end of the bar.

“Sorry!” you exclaim, setting your drinks on a tray. “Had to mop myself up a bit with the rag. Did anyone order anything from my tables?” you ask, looking at Simon.

He’s… occupied. His eyes are trained on your shirt. His shirt. That army green that brought up so many old memories, ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time,..

His shirt. Covering your body – and, fucking Christ, you’re not wearing a bra. You’re completely naked under that shirt.

You’re confused. He’s staring at you with such a shocked, glassy pair of eyes that you wonder if you’ve shot him in the leg. You look down at what he’s staring at – oh, right. The shirt. A part of you heats up in embarrassment, and a part in… something else. Yes, I took your shirt. I’ve got your name on my back. If he’s thoroughly upset by this, he’s not expressing it. And if you’re mistaken in the thought that he looks aroused (you wouldn’t be surprised to find him drooling behind the mask – you know how delicious you look right now), you’ll give him the shirt back eventually and pretend this never happened.

“Thanks for earlier.” You spoke over the noisy chatter around you. “This, uh- I hope it’s ok, it was the first shirt I saw.”

Bullshit. He knows he buried that thing deep in his drawer. He did it on purpose. “’S fine.” He mumbles, still dazed.

You glance at him as you carefully balance the tray on your hand. The printer is dealing ticket after ticket of drinks as Price enters them – the man looks at Simon with a frustrated, tight-lipped glare, working double-time to push orders through.

“I’ll be back to grab the rest.” You say quickly. You scurry off, careful to avoid slamming into anyone this time. Simon nearly has a heart attack when he sees his last name across your back. You might as well have his bite mark branded onto the side of your neck.

This opens up a nasty can of worms for him. He’s a goner – he’s thinking about chasing you around the bar, after hours, while all you’re wearing is his shirt; snatching you up and slamming you down on the bar, shoving his face in between your thighs; what you sound like when he pumps you with his fingers; pounding you against the wall in the office, hips crashing into yours as he growls and grunts in your ear, “wanna wear my fuckin’ name, baby? hmm? wanna make sure everyone in this fuckin’ pub knows you’re mine? I’ll gladly fuckin’ help you, fuckin’ tease-“; god, he needs you, he needs to know what you feel like wrapped around his dick, what you sound like when he’s reaching those spots, he needs your nails in his back and your palm smacking him across his face and your teeth on his neck-

“Simon!”

John’s- no, Captain Price’s voice shuts off the movie playing in his mind. He looks at him, barely recognizing the growing frustration in his eyes – Simon’s fighting his own demons right now, and he isn’t even sure if his Captain’s wrath can save him.

“Stop thinkin’ with your Pork Sword and get your arse back on bar.” Price barks – a few of the regulars laugh at that, and Simon realizes he’d had an audience.

He clears his throat and grabs a ticket, quickly reading it and grabbing a glass. He forces himself to let go of the fantasy – he’ll have all night to think about it once he closes. That, or he’ll be hating himself for even thinking of you in that way, especially when the situation wasn’t in your favor. For now, though, he’s got a job to do. He continues to pour and stir and shake drinks left and right, occasionally stealing glances at you, prancing around with his title.

He knows one thing’s for certain – your bra is still somewhere in his room.

[graham-oswald]

"right, i'm sure they're the poster children for generosity and warm-welcomes," if this conversation was any indication, graham was reassured in his biases against the residents of oak gardens. in the moment, he was reminded of just how badly he wanted to get home, his gaze wandered towards the analogue clock hanging above the door. graham had already stayed a quarter of an hour more past the five minutes that he'd had left in his shift at the start of this debacle. "i would rather take my chances outside of the neighborhood. anyone from oak gardens can come to me, if they so please. an apology is far past due for my grandmother and me."

he checked a final box, and set the form at the top of the pile. "that was it. no more tedium for today, the records clerk will get back to you in forty-eight to seventy-two hours, mr. daniels," graham added coldly, with his best customer-service smile. "now, if you'd excuse me, i have to close the office for this evening. i'm sure we would both like to get home."

Unfortunately, half the people that Roman would have considered undesirable all seemed to live in Oak Gardens. If he could have a day — just one — where Saul Weissberg was locked out, it would have truly made his day. "Well I don't know who your neighbors were in Oak Gardens, but a majority of the neighbors these days are...friendly." A massive con to the shop owner, who thought that owning such a ridiculously large home meant that there was as much emotional space as well as physical. "Well, technically you would be trespassing, even if the exile was possibly a bit much."

Fuck sake. It was never ending. Why couldn't Ophelia just handle it herself? "Any deeds will do, I suppose. Just whatever is on record."

[sleepymarimo]

toji x reader // sfw!

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t remember the last time he was gifted something.

“you got me what?” he asks again, kicking his sandals off at your front door for what seems like the millionth time.

you rise from your couch, the wood creaking slightly as you do so. “just some stuff for you to keep here so you stop using mine,” you reply, the shrug of your shoulders indicating how little of a deal it is.

in the kitchen, you rinse out the glass you’d been using. toji’s footsteps are barely audible over the sound of running water.

“there’s a few pairs of sweats in the hall closet,” you tell him, setting the glass down to dry. “and some other stuff in the bathroom. shampoo, body wash, toothbrush…”

the assassin lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway. “you tellin’ me i reek or something?” he accuses, more so to brush off the odd feeling building in his gut.

“maybe.” comes your playful quip, your head tilting as you rest your weight on the counter and look at him. “but seriously, you just come around so often,”- his nose wrinkles at that, as he knows he crashes here much more than he should- “that i figured i’d just get you your own things. it’s not like it cost me an arm and a leg.”

with a yawn you stroll toward your room, lightly poking his chest as you pass him. “plus, you use up all of my stuff, dummy.”

he grunts, his eyes following you until you’re out of sight. “i don’t need fancy clothes or any of that crap,” he murmurs to himself, taking a few steps toward the hall closet.

his large hands wrap around the handles, sliding the doors open until he sees a pile of clothes resting on one of the shelves. three black tees stacked atop three pairs of sweats, some boxers and socks in a little box, all for him.

he picks up a shirt without hesitation, the fabric smooth against his calloused fingers. his brows furrow in concentration, maybe unease. this is for him, it’s his, and maybe that’s why this shirt is the softest one he’s ever felt.

with a gruff exhale, he snatches a pair of sweats and a clean pair of boxers, his steps unhurried as he heads for the bathroom.

the fan hums above him as the lock clicks into place, his eyes immediately darting to the shelves to see the new toiletries. his stuff.

inside the shower, toji’s shoulders sag.

it’s as if the water is washing away his defenses, the rugged, nonchalant exterior he wears now melting away in the comfort of your shower.

toji pops open one of the new shampoo bottles, taking in the scent and pouring it onto his palm. he wonders if this smell reminds you of him, if you put some thought into each item.

while he rubs it into his hair, he thinks about if he should pay you back. it’s not like he asked you to get him all this stuff, but still.

even when you’d first started letting him crash on your couch, you hadn’t demanded much in return.

“just don’t make a big mess and be decent, alright?” he remembers you saying.

and he was just fine with that. free room and board just for something so simple? he’d be a moron to decline.

it was only after around a week that he felt a familiar itch. he wouldn’t be in your debt, wouldn’t wait for the day when you’d inevitably ask for something.

so, he offered what he always did- himself. that’s what women usually wanted from him, anyway.

his idea didn’t exactly go as planned. if anything, it made him feel more conflicted, made him wonder why the hell you kept him around.

were you just lonely? did you enjoy his company?

“oh, no… i don’t do that,” you’d said, holding your hands up, flustered but adamant. “you don’t have to sell yourself to me or anything. who does that? like, what?”

the water patters on the tile floor, his body and mind feeling more clear and clean than they’ve been in a long time.

when the faucet squeaks shut, he steps out and snorts as he sees a new, fluffy black towel hanging beside yours behind the bathroom door. he grabs it, rubbing his scarred skin dry and running it through the damp strands of his hair.

the new clothes feel like heaven, truly.

in your room, engrossed by your phone, you barely hear the sound of the bathroom door opening. toji’s steps are almost silent, his arms crossing over his chest as he watches you beneath the covers.

he’s amused as you snicker at some post, the dim screen lighting up your face in the otherwise dark room.

“let me crash here, yeah?” he suggests, though it’s more of an order.

you’re startled, rightfully so, hiding your phone against your chest while you sit up straighter. “oh, you scared me! new clothes and you think you’re all that, huh? too good for the couch?”

yet, even as you chide him, you’re peeling back the covers for him, grabbing the extra pillows and moving them out of the way.

a satisfied grunt leaves him as he spreads out on the mattress, careless of the space he takes up. he tugs the blankets over his person, settling in like a big cat.

he curls into you. you don’t mind.

while you scroll along with one hand, the other supports his head and absentmindedly strokes the skin of his cheek.

his eyes watch you, his breaths becoming more steady and even. he’d never admit how much it means to him that you’d gotten him new clothes, new toiletries, practically a new home.

it’s more than he deserves, but he finds himself wanting to take as much as he can get.

he’s yours, even if he doesn’t know it. and, as the days go by, he wonders if you can be his, too.

[nicholasgoodgirl]

could you make a jealous Nicholas smuttt???

request accepted!

crazy in love -nicholas

summary: you get jealous so you successfully make nicholas jealous in return and he teaches you a lesson.

warning: smut, pin v, unprotected sex (plsplspls use a condom), overstimulation (i think thst it not sure)

a/n: thanks for the request. pls keep them coming

nicholas wanted me to attend this red carpet event with him, and of course i was quick to accept but i quickly dreaded and pushed down the eargness i so suddenly felt to be able to attend such an important place. i started going down a rabbit hole of posts of him with other girls.

the comments collectively agreeing he looks better with the other women he has worked with in the past.

i cut my phone off and waited in silence for my boyfriends stylist to be done with the finishing touches on his suit.

i walk in the dressing room and he was laughing with his stylist, and of course she had to be a woman.

at the after party of the even i planned on getting pay back for the jealousy he probably didn't even know he had instilled in me.

--

we were here at the after party and I've seen a few recognizable celebrities there but wouldn't dare approach them.

nicholas' hand was comfortably placed around my waist "nervous?" he asks, his words coming out ever so subtly "nope, why would i be" he replied with a low hum; shrugging.

i left his side and went to go get drinks he dispersed off somewhere else as well.

not even 10 minutes later i found myself talking to some guy with nice brown hair that complimented his soft brown eyes but his looks didn't even compare with my man.

"do you have somewhere to be after this?" he asked and i just let out a chuckle "maybe" i looked around to seen nicholas eyes were already on us.

i swallow drly and try and wrap the conversation up "i think i gotta go" that was my abrupt attempt on ending the conversation.

"c'mon pretty lady i can make it worth your while" the man placed his hands on my hip trying to make me stay.

before i could say anything i was being dragged away from him to no suprise by my boyfriend himself.

"let go of me" my voice wobbles. i struggle to tug my hand out of his grip; trying to get free. "no, we're going home. now." his voice was stern and there was no question. we were going home.

-

in a hurry nicholas unlocks the door, we both walk in and he slams the door shut behind us "what the fuck was that!?" he shouts.

"suddenly we go to a party and you're single?" i feel guilty but then remember the pictures i saw of him with other girls; looking cozier then ever.

"tha-thats not what happend at all" i try to explain myself. "you need to be taught a lesson. wanna be taught a lesson love?" he asks, his hand firmly squeezing my cheeks too firm towards i could only nod

"yeah I'm sure you do" he scoffs and pulls me to our shared room.

once we reach the dimly lit room, the only light illuminating the room was the warm tone of the lamp.

Nicholas pushes me down on the bed and crawls ontop of me starting to place open kisses down my neck, to my collar bone.

going back up to my lips, grabbing my face kissing me roughly. i moan into the kiss giving him enough space for his tounge to invade my mouth, claiming me as his.

he stops what he's doing "take your clothes off" he demands. i comply and begin taking off my heels throwing them aside with a loud bang they hit the ground follwed by the other heel. then pulling my dress off painfully slow so he does it for me.

snatching the material over my head and tosses it aside kissing down my stomach, trailing down to my inner thigh.

"you're so perfect" he mumbles, his fingers mess with the hem of my lacey panties and pulls them down and off me.

he goes down on me and licks the arousal that leaked from my core. i bite my lip to suppress a moan.

another lick, and a pressured kiss against my clit. i was a mess. feeling his breath against me sent shivers all over. i let out a gasp when he swirl his tounge on me. i felt my orgasm nearing; the band ready to snap "close- oh fuck!" i shout

he pulls away almost immediately. "not yet you aren't. turn over f'me"

"please.. i just- m'sorry" i whine, turning over anyway putting my ass in the air "sweetheart this is a punishment you can cum whenever i say. alright?" he says with faux sympathy

i hear his belt fall to the ground and his zipper unzip before he positions himself behind me and lines his throbbing cock up with my entrance.

with a deep thrust, he buries himself far inside me. "you feel that? how deep im inside you?" i nod vigourisly letting out a whimper. his hips snap forward; each thrust giving pushing my body up the bed.

his hand moves down my back pushing my face into the bed allowing me to take him deeper.

nicholas leans down and whispers in my ear "could he fuck you like this?" everything was so intense i could harldy ever come up with a verbal response for anything he asked. so again i shook my head 'no'

he grabs my hair and makes a makeshift ponytail "could he?" ,,no" i cry out squeezing my eyes shut in relief when he lets go of my hair

he continues slamming into me at a relentlessly brutal pace. the only sounds that could be heard was lewed sounds of skin slapping together paird with my muffled moans

we discussed a safe word prior to moments like these and i would have used it in this moment but as intense as everything was it felt so good.

without warning i clench around him and realese the knot that had formed in my stomach bursting. his thrusts didn't slow down, "i didn't say you could cum" he disdainfully reminded

i hiss at the sensitivity. my vision began to blur with tears while I also realize this is him teaching me a lesson. "apologies" he demands "imsorry.. im so fucking sorry" i began sobbing

i could no longer keep my body up my legs began to shake but no matter the condition nicholas' hands kept me in place as he pounds into me. before i knew it he had finished inside me already

i was so far gone in a daze i didn't even realize it. he pulls out and lets my body flop onto the bed "are you alright?" he asks tucking pieces of hair that had fallen in my face behind my ear.

he gets one of the throw blankets and puts it over me. 'mm' is all i could muster up. i was fine but in the moment i just wanted to sleep

a/n: i wanted to add aftercare but i feel like this was long enough..

[jaeyunnz]

Tasting temptations

jake + f¡reader — ♡

WARNINGS — dom!jake, reader¡sub, riding him while he's eating, hair pulling, grinding, raw sex (stay safe, don't do it.) he calls her slut once, praising and pet names.

Note : my first post on here, i hope i did good! i haven't wrote in a while, i just got back into it — (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) this is proofread !!!!

It was a normal night, jake just got home from work and made himself a quick meal, ramen. He was in the living room, sitting on the couch with his bowl of ramen on the coffee table, eating quietly. Jake is oblivious to how needy you've been feeling lately, especially with him rarely home. You slowly made your way over to the living room, standing infront of him which causes him to lift his head up, looking up at you with wide eyes and still chewing on his food.

"hey baby. you want some?" He lifts up his bowl to you and you nod. "come sit with me baby." He pats the empty space next to him, but instead of doing that you settled on his lap. Jake lets out a quiet groan, placing the bowl back on the table and props his hands on your hips. Your arms immediately going around his neck as you lean in to place small kisses on his collbarbone which is showing due to his black tanktop.

Jake lets out a soft sigh, caressing your back with small circles. Your kisses trailing up to his neck now, gently nibbling at his skin. "mm?... whats this about?" He chuckles a bit and you raise your head up to look at him, locking eyecontact for a moment. "What do you mean?" you say quietly. He raises an eyebrow, replying back with, "i dunno... you just seem... intense?" he searches for your eyes once more, tilting his head.

"Really? Well im... fine." he looks unamused but grabs his bowl, continuing to slurp up his noodles. The heat beneath you guys becomes evident, and you unintentionally move your hips for more friction. Jake lets out a soft grunt, causing him to slightly choke on his noodles. "b...baby what are you doing?-" your now practically humping his thigh slowly like a dog in heat. He swallows hard on his food, his lips slightly parting as he watches you.

"fuck- baby hold on..." hes trying to regain his composure while your panting heavily, looking at him with desperate eyes. "Mmph... jake i need you." He gulps, letting out a soft whimper as you swirl your hips around his lap causing his body to tremble slightly. "need me... for what, baby?" he murmurs, voice breathy and eyes wide with realization. he swallows hard, his cock already twitching in his sweatpants at your sensual movements. "...ohhh..."

Jake takes another bite out of his ramen, he's trying to eat and finish up faster but its hard when your moving on his lap. "baby let me just finish eating real quick-" Its too late though, your already fondling with his belt, in a desperate attempt to undo it. He doesn't stop you, instead he watches, the food being forgotten.

Once you finally undo his belt, you throw it aside, working on his zipper now. You notice the tent in his pants, and he slightly jerks his hips upward. "fuck baby..." You glance at him, tugging his pants down to his hips before asking, "You gonna finish eating or no? Because i wont wait." He takes another bite out of his noodles with shakey hands, he's halfway done but with you literally stripping him, he keeps getting distracted. "im trying y'know. but its hard when your...-" At this point your desperate so you just pull his boxers down.

His aching cock finally springs free. His hands are so shakey he can barely grip on the chopsticks to continue eating. "I forgot how big you are..." you say, causing his cock to twitch. You then slide your hand down, fingertips tracing the slim and long base. He arches his back, almost dropping the bowl. "ahh... fuckk..." he moans out, struggling to say coherent words. "Im barely touching you." Your hand finally wraps around the veiny shaft, his hips snapping upwards in desperation for more of your touch. "So sensitive..."

You stroke his length up and down a few times while he bites his lower lip to surpress a moan. "sit on it please h...hahhh.." he mumbles, barely audible before moving the bowl aside. He hasnt finished eating but at this point he doesnt care, he needs you. Finally, you shove down your shorts and panties, he watches as you do so and immediately goes to grab your ass. He lifts his hips up slightly, the tip rubbing against your bare slit which causes you to gasp and throw your head back. "Ahh jake..." gripping onto his shoulders, you finally sink down onto his length, only halfway though since he's big.

"fuck babygirl!" he moans out loudly, digging his nails into your hips. Your body is already shaking but you havent even taken it all yet. "shit your so tight..." his words made your eyes roll back, and with one swift movement you finally sink all the way down, taking every inch of him. You let out a loud moan that echoes around the living room, jakes mouth is slightly opened from the pleasure of being inside of you almost too much. After a few seconds of adjusting to his size, you slowly start moving up and down on his cock.

Jake tilts his head back against the couch, his hand on the small of your back. "So big-..." you whine out, gripping tightly on his shoulders for leverage as you begin to bounce up and down on his cock wildy. The quiet room being filled with nothing but skin slapping against skin.

"Ahhhh... ohhh..." is all that came out of your mouth. "princess... your riding it like a pro," He breathes out. Your lost in pleasure, whimpering and moaning loud enough for the neighbours to hear. "F...fuck jake, it feels so-..." his large hands wrap around your waist, helping you keep up with your pace on his cock. "yeah?... yeah it feels good baby?" He says with shakey breaths in between, "fuckkk yeah... your riding my cock stupid arent you slut? cant speak huh?" His dirty talk just makes your whole body tremble, almost completely losing it. "please... dont stop baby..."

You move your hips in a circle motion, his length plunging so deep inside of you it feels like your in ecstasy. His thick cock splitting your pussy open and stretching your inner walls to the limit. "J..jake i might-" you get cut off when you feel him slam his hips upward, bucking his hips wildly causing a loud scream of pleasure to come out of your mouth. He leans forward, sucking a hickey into the soft flesh of your neck as he continues to ruthlessly pump his cock in and out of your sopping wet pussy. Slightly pulling your hair back.

"what was that babygirl?" He grunts out, chuckling softly, "I... im gonna cum!" Your voice is high pitched as he holds you in place, bouncing you aggressively on his shaft. "cum for me princess..." and with that, you reached your climax, cumming hard on his dick. Jake's cock was pulsing violently inside you. "fuck yeah..." He lets out a loud, animalistic grunt as he starts to cum, his hot load erupting deep inside your pussy in thick, powerful spurts. "FUCK!" He shouts in pleasure, his head falling back against the couch as you collapse ontop of him.

The both of you are breathless for a few moments before you speak up quietly, "Was it good?" Jake pants heavily, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. "damn near broke my dick it was so good..." He kisses your throat, his hands roaming back down to grab your thighs and caress them softly. "shit, i love you princess," He whispers softly into your ear. "I love you too baby," you reply.

💘: ok i ended up writing a bit more than intended!!!! Anyways i hope this was good AHH💕