#INNER MONOLOGUES / musings

[sylleblosscm]

Starter Call!

Moots, hit the heart thing. You know the drill.

I'm having a time and a half getting through old threads, so while I'm not dropping anything, I am officially putting them on hold until I can get my muse back in order. That said, I'm missing my girl and also all of you beautiful people <3

[indigoraysoflight]

Incorrect Caryl inner monologue - 11x20, What's been lost.

I wanted to do a lighthearted one (+ all the gifs by the illustrious @mcbride )

Now they were definitely thinking about saving the kids during these scenes. And it obviously never crossed their minds just how well they worked together and how hot it was. It definitely 100% never crossed their minds. All of us just invented the sexual tension in these scenes, right. RIGHT? 👀

~

Carol, internally: I'm close enough to feel his breath on my face. His lips look a bit chapped. Ok, he's really hot right now, and I'm kinda turned on. Maybe... I don't stop him. NO WAIT TORTURE IS WRONG. Daryl, stop that.

Daryl, internally: I wanna punch this asshole, but I can't when she's touchin' me and lookin' at me like that. Did her eyes just flick to my lips? My heart's beating faster because of adrenaline, definitely. Don't look, that's how them impossibly blue eyes getchya.

__________________________________________

Daryl, internally: Did she just womanhandle me? Yeah, she pushed me away. If she thinks I'm gonna let her push me around like that... she's right. Damn straight I am. My wife Carol's such a badass.

Carol, internally: ok, that's the first time I've touched him in a bit. That's ok, that's fine. It's just his pecs, Carol. You've felt them before. On your face when he wraps you in his arms. Damn it, Carol. Focus on the torture.

__________________________________________

Carol, internally: This is weird. I don't know how to be a good cop. Daryl, don't look at me like that it's distracting. I wanna stab his face. Can I stab his face?

Daryl, internally: *sigh* She's so hot when she gets all quiet and stabby. I'm not turned on. But Carol, torture is wrong... Keep going.

__________________________________________

Daryl, internally: Please be safe. I'll find you. But if I die here, I want yours to be the last face I see. 'Cause I love you.

Carol, internally: Then please don't die. Be safe and come back. Please just come back to me. Find me. I'll be waiting. Because I love you.

__________________________________________

Carol, internally: You're safe. You're alive. You're here. I love you. You came back to me. You found me.

Daryl internally: You're safe. You're alive. You're here. You're beautiful. I love you. You waited for me.

__________________________________________

Daryl, internally: I just wanna hold her so badly. But we're not there yet, and we got company. Fuckin' Lance. DARYL, BE COOL. Just do your cool strut so she can't tell how much you wanna hold her and kiss her right now.

Carol, internally: ok he's doing that cool strut again. My heart is beating faster because of the adrenaline, obviously. Would it be weird if I tripped and fell into his arms for a quick second or... hour? REEL IT IN CAROL, you've got an audience. Fuckin' Lance.

__________________________________________

+ Bonus

Daryl, internally: Hey Lance. Get fucked. A'right I needta NOT think about "gettin' fucked" when I'm near her.

Carol, internally: K Lance, party's over. My husband Daryl's home. Time to fuckin' die. Nope. Can't think about "fucking" when I'm near him.

[kiboucounseling]

"I love Asmodeus!!!"

[hcrexcellency]

@classiqcals ( joanna & reuben )

Love was a plague. In the earlier days of her youth, Joanna would curse the stars for whatever punishment it wished to bestow on her for being so unlucky in love. Only now, they laughed back at her for giving her heart into the hands of a liar, not a bit of everything that happened between them standing in any form of truth so he could, instead, get her money... or was it that he lying to someone else...? The mental game of catch between both possibilities made her dizzy, but she trusted him. Why would he betray her unless he lied to his most beloved sister? Even if that were true, would it make up for the humiliating feeling of looking like a love sick fool who had fallen right into the trap of a trickster? Have patience was Reuben's plea to her, two words she would not forget as they were not the three she'd hoped to hear. But she tried, nonetheless, to have patience, taking but a few days to be alone with her thoughts and stop herself from jumping to any conclusions based on whatever Isolde, Blair, or Valentina might say to her. Instead, she let the woods talk to her, astride her horse as the shades of green faded together the faster she went, creating a void only she could live in. What would she even say to him? Would she resort back to the cordial, elegant princess who was polite and rigid so that he would no longer have to play this game of pretend beside her? A petty and bitter choice to make. Or would she run right into his embrace in tears as though it had never occurred? Perhaps the easiest way out, but what of her dignity then? If she were not bolting so fast upon her horse, she would have seen the upcoming sharp turn, but alas, as the horse came to such a screeching halt, the momentum gradually pulled Joanna off the horse and onto the ground with a thud. No broken bones, thankfully, but as she bathed in her chambers, her ladies maids regarded a rather large bruise on her left shoulder blade. The bruise would be easily concealed as she dressed in her nightgown and robe. Though, as she sat in front of her mirror, she pulled the gown down to get a better look at it herself, a searing pain that would surely melt away soon enough. The door to her chambers open and she remained still, her back to the door. Through the mirror she'd expected to see her sister, but instead she'd seen the look of her betrothed. Immediately wrathful gaze fell upon her ladies maids, whom apparently could not keep their mouths shut. This was not a conversation she was prepared for just yet, but perhaps the spontaneity of it may cause her to stop thinking for a while, which was what got her in trouble in the first place. "Do not fret," she said quietly, refusing to turn around, unsure if she says it to bring down the pretend persona that Dorit claimed he wore so well, or to quell the worry of the man who truly adored her, "I am fine... I simply fell off my horse. It hurts a bit, but it should mend itself in no time..."

[attroxx]

❛ @villain-he said . . . 🤲 whoever wants to be cradled in his hand. ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐒. who the hell wrote this thing ? and why was his manager insisting he audition ? the director is high profile and has a mostly good track record but . . . koda groans, slamming the stupid script onto the table. sinking into his seat his coffee stares back at him almost mockingly. despite it being a chilly day he'd opted for cold brew as per usual. taking a few more bites of his pastry he finishes up, shoving the script into his bag before tugging it over his shoulder. the coffee shop is growing buiser by the minute and koda didn't feel like adding to it.

he's about to head out the door when someone blocks him. the blonde blinks, the grip on his bag tightening. oh brother. he looks up . . . and up some more before meeting the face of a guy he'd never seen before. at least he's sure he hasn't. koda comes here most days, he would've remembered this guy . . . he's only really attractive. then suddenly the strangers hand is gripping his face, well, maybe gripping was a strong word. koda feels himself freeze, honey hues blinking rapidly.

koda thinks he hears the guy mention that he has something on his face . . . it must be chocolate from his pastry. but all koda can feel is the stranger hand on his skin. koda knows he's burning up and the guy can probably see it too. if the dude wasn't so tall he might be able to scurry away. forcing his gaze on the other he blinks when the hand disappears. he should thank him, otherwise he'd be walking around with a face covered in crumbs. but no words come and koda just nods awkwardly. no wonder i can't make friends.

send 🤲 to cradle my character's face in your muse's hands. ― accepting.

[handgiven]

so I swim for all salvation and i swim to save my soul but my soul is just a whisper trapped inside a tornado so i flip to my back and i float and i sing i am grounded, i am humbled, i am one with everything

[a-young-doctors-journey]

Hi all,

Long time, no update.

I've been in a weird mindspace for the past few months.

Residency is going okay, actually.

It can be stressful but overall, it hasn't been too bad.

I've been having problems in other aspects of my life (who knew, life exists outside medicine?!) and I'm at a crossroads, about to make a very important decision.

And at a loss for what to do.

I'm sitting in a crowded cafe in Luxembourg, hunched over a way-too-low-to-the-ground-table, studying for my Step 3 in 4 weeks, and struggling to focus on anything but the thoughts plaguing me, about what I should do.

I wish I could see into the future and know and actually see that everything would be okay. Because right now, I'm having trouble imagining that it would be.

sighs

I wish this cafe was more roomy & comfortable.

And that there were fewer happy people around me.

Just kidding.

I'm glad people are happy.

Okay, back to work.

[nevermakeawish]

Me: *adds a community tag to my post so I don't get in trouble with the Tumblr overlords*

App: *fucks up community label*

Tumblr Overlords: we reviewed your post, and we determined that it requires a community label. Request second review?

Me: but i- ...????

[notelasts]

@theixth liked for a starter!

“Tridentarius.” Harrow is sure she’s never felt as much shame in her entire existence than she does right now. She’s the Reverend Daughter of Drearburh. She’s the best necromancer the Ninth House has ever produced. And yet, here she is. Standing in front of Ianthe Tridentarius, feeling as though she’s going to burn up due to pure embarrassment. She hates it. “I require your assistance.” God, she hates even having to say it. Her lip curls as the words leave her mouth. She glares up at Ianthe, trying to summon at least an iota of something other than embarrassment. “Well? Are you going to help or not?” If she has to die of embarrassment (an absolutely abhorrent fate, in Harrow’s opinion), then it’s only fair that Ianthe die of irritation.

[boardcontrolled]

▼

[pickletrip]

Just feeling a little lost lately

Unable to make up my mind

Torturing my emotions to cease

Living like I have nothing to look forward to.

Now what?

What do I do in this complacent, ever hurtful situation of living?

[sylleblosscm]

We interrupt this accidental hiatus for a special announcement:

Her

[indigoraysoflight]

Carol’s inner monologue - The Storm, 9x16 

It's supposed to be Carol's inner monologue, but at this point, it’s a ficlet.

Hilltop, after the storm.

~

Ezekiel: We made it.

Carol, internally: No, we didn't. Henry isn’t here. Wearing a mask came naturally to me when he was alive. We had walls, we had a son, we had a whole life – away from those dusty blue eyes that seared through my facade. I wanted to raise Henry like I never got to raise Sophia. Give him a life that Sophia, Lizzie, Mica, or Sam never got. That's all that mattered. But that got burned away.

Carol: Did we...?

Carol, internally: After what I went through, 'corny' was really, really nice. Being lighthearted and playful was a welcome change. When he gave me his blessing, I took it and ran. Ran from him. I told myself it was exactly what I needed. That caring deeply about you and our life was enough. But now the fairytale has ended. The storm has passed. Our son is gone. And the fog has finally lifted – I can't pretend anymore.

Carol: ...I'm going to Alexandria in the morning with the others.

Carol, internally: There’s nowhere to hide anymore. Only one person anchored me before the storm and through it. And it wasn’t you. I realize now that it never could be you.

Ezekiel: I know you have to do this, but I'll never stop loving you.

Carol, internally: ...and that's why this is so sad. I was running away from him and my family. And one day, I found myself in a life with you and Henry. It was easier to bullshit with another bullshitter. Raise our boy and hide away in a fairytale. Far away from his dusty blue eyes. Daryl's eyes. The eyes that held me gently despite everything I’d done. The eyes that peeled away layers of bullshit and saw me – all of me. 

My head was in the clouds. It kept me from realizing how much I craved the days when I went to him. How I craved to be outside the walls I had built myself. How his gentle touch, his rumbly "you good?", his earthy scent, and his quiet presence grounded me during those brief visits. Even when I hid from his intense gaze, his eyes held me strongly and effortlessly so I wouldn't lose myself to this mask I wore. And my heart broke a bit more every time I came back to the Kingdom without him by my side. 

Then Henry died, and just like that – the mask shattered.

When I saw our son’s head on that spike, the world around me faded. A distant memory screamed in my ears. I suddenly realized how much Henry looked like her. I felt myself drift into the abyss when his arms gripped me tightly. And his dusty blue eyes locked with mine. The eyes I tried so hard to avoid all these years. They bore into my soul – pained, earnest, pleading but steady. And held on to me desperately before I slipped away. 

'Just look at me. Just look at me.'

And I did. The walls I built crumbled to dust around me, leaving me bare and vulnerable. And my only conscious thought was Daryl. The only one I wanted to see was him. The only one I wanted there with me was him. The only one I wanted to hold me together as I fell apart was him. Daryl. It was always him. He held me together when my world fell apart back at the farm. And he held me together when it fell apart again. His eyes held me gently, and his arms held me tightly, as they carried me through the storm. And he stopped me from slipping away, from being consumed and turned into ashes. 

I can't say what you want to hear. I can’t give you what you want. I never could. I care about you and our fairytale enough not to lie. Because I can't lie anymore. Not to you.

Not to me.

Carol: ...And I'll never regret the fairytale.

Gif by the brilliant @mcbride​

[fightingthetides]

[水]

Mizumachi listens to her explain the metaphor of spoons. He wonders to himself in the back of his mind why spoons was used as the metaphor as opposed to something like a fork or chopsticks. He makes the guess that maybe it’s because spoons could be used to ‘dig into’ food like one would dig into their tasks.

“Learned something new today, thanks! So do ya just wake up with the same number of spoons a day? Does it change?”

He could only assume that completing tasks in general in a consistent manner may be difficult if the number of spoons differed every day. It made completing a task feel all the more impressive and exciting, somehow. Maybe that’s just how he thought because he was a simple minded guy who felt proud any time he finished any task he set out for himself.

“Do small tasks take parts of a spoon?”

Mizumachi was curious to learn about this metaphor so he could understand her better. Making friends and staying friends required understanding and patience! He was a bit slow, but he had the spirit! He would try to understand and learn! (No promises on him actually understanding in a timely manner, however)

“Mhaa~ Thanks! Low effort or not, the taste is what matters, and I love chocolate.”

Hard to dislike chocolate when you always got a steady flow of it on your birthday. The perks of being a Valentine’s day guy, he’d suppose. The athlete accepts the beverage and takes a sip from it first before he waits for her to slide into the chair next to him to start eating his waffle as well. He was eagerly eating his waffle and savoring his hot cocoa when she makes the comment about not wanting to grind beans.

“Eh? Oh! Do you do all the fancy stuff with your coffee? Like the drippy stuff or whatever it’s called?”

He knew that some people were real serious about their coffee, usually the real serious guys. Then you had some dudes like himself who only cared to get his caffeine fix in whatever method of delivery. He always learned some interesting things when talking to Vivian. She was smart and patient enough to explain things to him! She’s real nice!

    "Ah, good! Then I guess I don't have to hurry too much. And about that... I use, 'spoons', as like a disability metaphor, but basically in English, it's another word for disabled people that describes the amount of mental and physical energy they have available to do every day tasks. This, of course, can range from brushing one's teeth to cooking," Vivian goes on to patiently explain. ...Though, considering her disability in question happened to be an invisible one, most might not immediately suspect there was something 'wrong' with her right away.

    Granted, they may get the impression she was slightly eccentric and a bit sensitive to the environment depending on either the weather conditions or noise levels, but outwardly, Vivian appeared to be your ordinary able-bodied girl. Still, before she could even contemplate on whether or not she felt like telling Mizumachi what her disability was, the kettle would soon whistle, causing her to immediately rush forward to turn it off. Then, with a spoon, she would grab the kettle and mosey her way over to his mug, before pouring the water in.

    Once enough water had been emptied from the kettle, Vivian eventually sets it aside on the counter top and begins stirring away until the hot water, milk, and hot chocolate mix were properly mixed together. Afterwards, she'll then yawn, slowly make her way back over towards where Mizumachi sat, and lay it next to the plate of waffles she had given him. "There you go! One extremely low effort hot chocolate, ready for your consumption," Vivian declares and without another moment's pause, she'll proceed to slide into the chair next to his. "To be honest, I think I might just buy myself coffee later; after all, I still have lots of spare change left in my wallet and I simply can't be bothered to grind beans today. So with that being said, I'll continue being your conversation partner!"

[navybrat817]

You're a Firework

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're all set to watch fireworks with the gang and Bucky can't keep his hands to himself. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, semi-public sexy times, pet names, inner monologue, established relationship, humor, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I KNOW it's Steve's birthday, but my muse demanded Stud and Smartie. ❤️ I'm so sorry, lovelies. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You know,” Natasha began as she handed you a drink. “You and Bucky could've had your wedding today. No one would have objected.”

“With Steve's birthday right around the corner? And take away from Sam’s amazing barbeque? No way,” you smiled, stepping out of the way as Clint walked by with sparklers in each hand. You refused to take attention away from either of them. “I’m glad we’re all hanging out though.”

Today was a good day. Not only was the weather as close to perfect as it could get, not too warm or too cold, it was a chance to get together and mingle since everyone had a few days off. Between the sunshine, food, and games, the gang had a lot of fun. You imagined your wedding reception would be fun, too.

Maybe the two of you could even have sparklers to celebrate, if only to entertain Clint.

“Bucky called you his wife earlier,” the redhead commented.

“He did?” You smiled, your heart swelling.

“He did. When you beat Sam at horseshoes, he looked right at Steve and said, ‘that’s my wife' with a huge smile on his face.”

Yeah, I am. Almost.

You nearly swooned, giving your fiancé a glance as he set his chair by the fire pit. “And that’s my husband.”

Natasha lightheartedly rolled her eyes and nudged you. “Better go and join him then. The fireworks are going to start soon,” she said, heading to her seat beside Clint. The town was shooting off fireworks in the nearby park, but you all decided it was better to hang back. The yard was a great spot to view them and no one had to worry about the crowd.

“Be right there,” you said, shivering as a light breeze rolled in. Sam had the fire going, but you hadn't realized how chilly it was now that it was dark. Grabbing your blanket from your bag nearby, you also realized as you walked over to the gang that there wasn't a place for you to sit. Bucky looked your way with a gentle smile and patted his thigh before you could ask if there was an extra chair available inside. You caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes as you made your way closer.

You loved that look.

“Is that my seat?” You asked.

“This could be your seat.” Bucky pointed at his face as you bit your lip. If everyone wasn’t around, you’d consider it. “But this one might be more comfortable to watch the fireworks,” he added, patting his massive thigh again.

His face. His thigh. Both were incredible places to sit.

“Yeah, comfortable. That’s the word,” you teased, shrieking as he dragged you onto his lap once you were within reach. You were lucky you didn't spill your drink. “Easy, tiger.”

He growled and nuzzled your neck once you situated yourself and placed your drink the cup holder. “This tiger will also keep you warm,” he promised.

“Aww. You two are just the cutest,” Sam said, swigging his beer with a chuckle when Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, we are. And in case you forgot, my girl kicked your ass earlier. Beauty, brains, and brawn,” he boasted. You didn’t have to look back to see the smug smile on his face. “Proud of you.”

I will not get giddy or aroused from that praise.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get you next time,” Sam scoffed, looking over at you with a smile to let you know it was in good fun. He was a good guy, like Steve. You hoped they each found someone who made them feel the way Bucky made you feel.

“Or she’ll kick your ass again,” Bucky said without skipping a beat.

Oh, boys. So endearing. So competitive.

“Enough of that. Sam, I’m pretty sure I got lucky and I’d love a rematch. Stud, you just concentrate on keeping me warm,” you teased, draping the blanket over both of you. His embrace was always warm. “Surprised we don't have s’mores.”

“Those are for after the fireworks,” Steve said from the other side of you.

You smiled over at him before tilting your head back to gaze at Bucky. You weren't sure if the guys did it on purpose, but they each wore the same tight fitting T-shirt in patriotic colors. They all looked handsome, but your man looked look sex on legs. The love of your life would always turn your head.

“Not for us,” Bucky said, placing a kiss on your shoulder as his hand rested possessively on your hip. “We’re going to bed.”

You giggled and snuggled back against him when the rest of the gang protested. “But what if I want a s'more?”

“I’ll personally make you one and feed it to you in bed,” he half growled.

“You’re really not going to stay up with us?” Steve asked, a knowing look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sure something will get up,” Natasha deadpanned, making everyone laugh. She wasn't wrong.

“On your birthday, we’ll stay up as late as you want. Tonight, we’re watching the fireworks and going to bed,” Bucky grumbled, brushing a finger over your engagement ring. “Unless you really want to stay out here.”

You giggled again. Bucky had to share your attention with everyone all day and was still sharing it now. He was more than ready to have you all to himself. You understood the feeling.

“I’m fine with going inside after the fireworks. We’ll check on the cats and then go to bed,” you assured him.

With everyone drinking, you all decided it was better to crash in the same place instead of going home. Neither of you wanted to leave Alpine or Soot at your place though in case any neighbors decided to shoot fireworks off the roof, so you brought them over. They had a space set up under the guest bed with some white noise to help block out some of the sound. Anything to help put them at ease.

Bucky tilted your chin a bit more to place a soft kiss on your lips, the tension crackling like the fireworks had already started. “Thank you, Smartie.”

“You’re welcome, Stud.”

As if on cue, the show began.

You looked up at the sky in awe as the first firework rushed into the air. An explosion followed by a vivid display of light, they were like rainbows in the night brightening the darkness with color. They were beauty and wonder, a form of art that faded almost as quickly as it was created. Watching with loved ones made it all the more special.

You tilted your head and smiled when you caught Bucky staring back at you. “Why aren't you looking at the sky?”

“Why aren't you?” He teased, bumping his nose against yours. “Besides, I don't need to watch the sky when I have the most beautiful view right here.”

Your cheeks warmed. So did your heart. “You flatter me so,” you whispered, looking back at the sky again.

Bangs, crackles, and thunderous sounds continued to fill the air with the gorgeous display. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You almost regretted not having your phone beside you so you could take some pictures.

Though you likely would’ve dropped it when you felt Bucky’s hand move from your hip to under your skirt.

“Stud?” You gasped, quickly looking around as his hand trailed up your thigh. No one was looking your way. They were too occupied with the fireworks.

“Just keep looking at the sky, Smartie,” he said against your ear, your legs opening more as his hand found its prize. “And I'll keep touching you.”

Oh, fuck.

You shivered in his grasp despite the blanket and his body providing more than enough heat. His touch was possessive yet tender and you could feel your body turn to jelly as he rubbed you through your panties. You tried to concentrate on the colors above you, the material damp from his expert touch. And you couldn't stop your heart from pounding in your ears, adding the explosive noises around you.

More fireworks went off, but you blocked out the “oohs” of your friends as he pushed the wet fabric aside. “Bucky,” you whimpered, biting your tongue when he traced a finger along your slick pussy.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all day,” he whispered against your neck, teasing your folds. Your hole clenched before the fingertip even touched it. “I can't believe you’re mine. Keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

I’m the lucky one.

His finger breached you, making you gasp and grip his arm. His palm pressed against your clit and you couldn’t help but push your hips down, seeking out more friction. You wanted to take care of him, too. Maybe when the two of you went to bed…

Another finger slipped in, curling and thrusting quickly. If you were at home, he’d take more time in taking you apart. He wouldn't stop until you soaked the sheets and even then he might keep going. And he'd make sure you were a quivering mess, mewling and begging for mercy or reprieve.

“Have I told you today how much I love you, babydoll?” He asked, static pleasure coursing through your body as you climbed higher.

Orgasms were a lot like fireworks. Some tumbled slowly in the sky, like a slow fire that coursed through your veins. Others exploded, so large and powerful that you couldn’t keep the sounds of awe in. Then there were small bursts, the ones that got the job done and still felt good.

You wondered what kind of orgasm Bucky would give you tonight.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, colors dancing behind your eyes as you shut them.

You wanted to shout how much you loved Bucky Barnes. You wanted your love for him to burst through the sky like a shooting star. But you didn’t need to put on a show for him to know you were his. He knew you belonged to him.

But you’d still have to try and keep quiet as you clenched around his fingers.

“Please,” you whispered, ready to fall over the edge as his palm rubbed your clit again.

Your head turned and his mouth slanted against yours to swallow down your moan. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, his fingers curling once more as you listened to his command and watched the colors light up his blue eyes. “And come for me.”

Your walls pulsed as the finale began, your cry drowned out by the rapid booms. Your wetness coated his fingers, every nerve cell vibrating as brilliant hues illuminated the sky. The hues swirled in your dizzying head, too. You were flying. Sinking. Floating.

You were a firework.

“Beautiful,” Bucky whispered, guiding you back to him.

Your body stayed lax against his, wishing he didn't have to take his fingers out. “You’re beautiful,” you exhaled, watching him subtly bring his hand to his mouth to taste your release. “Menace,” you added.

This man. I really just let him finger bang me with everyone sitting around.

“Yeah, I am,” he smiled, placing another kiss on your lips as Steve and Sam got up. Natasha and Clint were already up, too, to get more drinks.

If anyone knew what happened, they didn't draw any attention to it.

“Those were even better than last year,” Sam said.

“They were. And now we can have s'mores,” the blonde smiled, stopping to look at his best friend. “I thought you two were going to bed.”

“In a minute,” Bucky said, shifting his hips under yours to let you feel how hard he was. Getting you off turned him on. “Think I need to relax a bit more.”

Yeah, so no one sees you walking around with a raging hard-on.

You wiggled your hips, smiling when your fiancé quietly groaned. “Yeah. Relax,” you sighed, feeling him squeeze your thigh in a warning.

Well, he wanted your attention before and now he had it.

And I’ll make him see fireworks before the night is over, too.

Stud and Smartie need to talk to my muse and make sure Steve has a good birthday. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[brewed-pangolin]

"This seat taken?"

John asks. Voice low, soft. With a subtle sweetness, just like tea and honey.

You feign innocence. Eyeing him like a newly bridled mare, still reconditioning to the saddle.

He moves in swiftly before you have time to voice any coherent response. Draping an arm along the back of your chair, caging you to him. Only a faint semblance of an escape playing your outer periphery.

It's a game you've played countless times, yet never seems to lose its intensity.

You play the shy, lonely woman at yet another friends wedding. And he comes swooping in at the pivotal moment, just in time to sway your silent inconvenience.

"Didn't catch your name, lass."

He interjects your inner monologue with a rolling timbre. Eyes deep, radiating a certain lure like gravity. Never failing to pull you in.

You answer with a random name yanked from a hat earlier in the day.

He smiles. Rolling the name over his tongue, tasting its bitterness when it isn't your own.

"Nice kilt." Is all you can manage. And all you're alloted to give in response as he shifts in his seat. Spreading his legs and pulling himself further underneath the table.

"Is me family tartan." He purrs, accentuating the familial cloth with an accent that always spoke to the depths of your core.

Snaking a hand over your thigh, guided by the silken fabric of your dress to intertwine with delicateness of your fingers.

"Wan'a meet th'rest of the fam?" He muses. Bringing your hand beneath the table, between his legs to cradle his family jewels with a smile. His cock twitching against your fingers as you nonchalantly take another sip of your wine.

Captain Mactavish Masterlist