#THE GENTLE GIRL SHE SEES NO WRONG | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tender-rosiey · 7 months

Text

“OH GOD! IT’S WALKING?!”

— baby’s first steps with gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna (f!reader)

GOJO SATORU:

your daughter simply adores her father, and she is almost as energetic as him. you recall multiple times when he would pick her up smiling, and she would hold his face giggling and smiling just as much.

it’s such a cute scene, and you have at least 6 similar photos.

so yeah, it doesn’t surprise you that she keeps looking at the door, waiting for him to come back from his mission.

you’re both sitting on the ground, a little distance from the door. you lightly tickle her, “you wanna see dada?”

she looks up to you then looks to the door and murmurs, “dada.”

“he will be here soon; I promise,” you press a kiss to her cheek, and she squeals. soon, the door clicks and it slowly opens to reveal your dear husband who’s holding what you think are bags of sweets, toys, and souvenirs.

“the world’s best dad and husband is here!” he announces brightly. quickly, you get your phone out to record yet another cute moment between your daughter and your husband.

however, neither you nor your husband expected your little girl to stand up excitedly and try to waddle her way to her dad.

“dada! dada!” she says as she hurriedly stumbles and waddles her way to him.

satoru kneels down on the ground, opening his arms widely as he grins, “yes, dada! come to dada, baby!”

successfully, the girl stumbles into satoru’s arms and giggles as he peppers her face with kisses.

he looks up to you with a pout, shifting d/n into one arm, “excuse me, but I would like my two favorite girls to be in my arms, right now!”

you chuckle and settle into his embrace and he presses a kiss to the top of her head and your own.

d/n gives him a kiss—more like simply put her mouth on his cheek—and nuzzles into his chest. satoru grins before looking at you, “she is so cute!”

you quip with a big smile, “I got that on video!”

“you and your gorgeous mind,” he hums as he kisses your cheek.

NANAMI KENTO:

“kento, you’re going to grow grey hair early like this.”

honestly, you can’t blame him for worrying like this. you were finally going on vacation, so your husband wanted everything to be organized.

the last thing he needs is a headache after he finally got rid of the walking one (read: gojo).

he sits down, sighing, “I know; I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

you chuckle, and settle down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “don’t worry,” you say, “we checked everything over a million times. nothing will go wrong.”

nanami smiles tiredly before pulling you into a gentle kiss, “well, I guess you’re right,” he looks around for a moment, “where is d/n?”

“she is playing with her toys on the mat; why?”

“she is not on the mat.”

“she is not on the what?!” you yell, bolting out of your seat and frantically searching for her, “d/n, honey, where are you?!”

“y/n, calm down!” your husband tries to comfort you, “she is still in the house, so don’t stress about it; we will find her.”

as if on cue, a giggle and a coo are heard behind nanami. he turns to find the culprit, his 10 months old girl grinning. she squeals and tries to walk towards him, hands eagerly reaching out for him.

she is stumbling a bit, and her steps are clumsy, and nanami couldn’t have been prouder.

he smiles fondly, “good girl, d/n,” he opens his arms, encouraging, “you can do it.”

she flails her arms as she giggles, “da-dada!”

d/n finally reaches his leg and holds onto it for dear life. she starts swaying as she looks up at him, “dada!” he bends down to kiss the top of her head.

she hums happily, before waddling towards you, worried, “mama?”

you breathe a sigh of relief and hold her in your arms, “you got me worried, baby,” you stroke her hair and she nuzzles into your embrace, little hands gripping your shirt tightly.

nanami lets out a chuckle as he watches your daughter starts to fall asleep in your arms.

he moves to hug you two, and hums with content, “and you say that I am the worrywart.”

GETO SUGURU:

“y/n, what makes you so sure that they will start walking soon?” your husband says as he watches his two little girls play in the garden.

he already had nanako and mimiko, but god chose to grace him with his own pair of twins.

he couldn’t be happier, especially with way the twins both care for each other and beam whenever they see him.

he also adores seeing them play with you; it brings a type of serenity to his heart.

you chuckle, “call it a mother’s instincts.”

suguru rolls his eyes and pulls you by the waist, “you showing off, pretty?”

“nope! just asserting dominance.”

with a roll of his eyes, he gives you a peck on the nose. the both of you then settle down on the grass as well, quietly watching the girls try to chase—wait what chase?

suguru and you lock eyes, and he quickly scrambles to get the camera. meanwhile, you’re trying to encourage the girls to continue their walking, “who’s winning, girls?”

each one of the stumbling babies yells out a—supposedly—‘me!’. they‘re both squealing as they walk around.

soon enough, suguru makes an appearance and starts recording, “I am gonna get you!”

the girls squeal and try their best to run away from the big bad monster.

the very cute thing that even has suguru pausing in his chase is that when one of them falls, the other waits for her or tries to help her up.

of course, the latter mostly results in both of them falling on their small little bums. luckily, they clumsily stand up instead of crying their eyes out.

they get tired eventually though, so they waddle their way to you. both of them sit beside you and rest their heads on your lap.

suguru stands in front of you, hands on his hips, “you leaving me out of this group cuddle?”

your twins perk up and turn their heads to peak at him and they giggle when he pouts. still, they open their little arms for their dad to join the family hug, “dada! hug!”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your husband is not exactly the most enthusiastic father.

he wasn’t that affected by your son’s first word being dada, and a lot of things that you can’t be bothered to think about.

so yeah, you’re left with the role to be the encouraging parent, and to hype your son whenever he accomplishes something.

so obviously, your son adores you more than he does his father. however, there is no denying that sukuna’s genes are indeed strong.

despite the kid’s beaming smile, he could be choking a snake. it actually reminds you of that one hercules scene.

your son also has a quicker development than most kids, but it doesn’t lessen the excitement when he finally took his first steps.

you held onto sukuna’s arms, pointing at your boy, “sukuna, look, he is walking!”

“so?”

you pause then look at your husband, “what do you mean ‘so’?” you grin, “they’re his first steps, you silly goose!”

sukuna frowns, “I am not a silly goose,” he then rolls his eyes, “he was going to start walking sooner or later anyway, woman.”

you huff, “you’re no fun.”

however, you don’t get to dwell on it for much longer as you hear the scream of one of the servants. you and your husband are looking towards them, and—suffice to say—it’s a memorable scene.

your son, who just started walking, is somehow holding a wooden pickaxe and waddling his way behind the servant.

he is grinning and squealing too like he isn’t about to beat up an innocent person (it reminds you of something or rather someone).

the servant is surprisingly terrified form the kid as she screams, “my lady, please save me!”

you have no idea how a grown woman is terrified of a one year old, but you will give her the benefit of the doubt that he is, after all, the son of the king of curses.

you sigh with a chuckle and walk towards them, “on my way.”

the kid squeals, waddling quicker after the servant who’s about to shit her pants.

meanwhile, sukuna is smirking proudly as he watches his son, “now, that’s my kid.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

14K notes · View notes

fairy-angel222 · 2 months

Text

Being older bf! Toji’s sweet dolly gf.

Everybody wonders just how it even happened. He was so big and broody, face always serious as he peered down at people with hard glares. But you.. you were so sweet. Everyone loved you, thought you were the most darling girl in town.

You were always so kind to people, smiling brightly as you engaged in conversation with almost anyone, easily lighting up their day with your gentle tone.

You’re a joy to be around, your presence was soft, warm.. welcoming. His was mean, scary even. It was a strange mixture. Not to mention how much bigger he is compared to you. His tall height and broad body engulfing yours completely when his arm wraps around your waist.

Your hand tight in his as you two walked down the street. Intertwined fingers swinging as you attempted to tug him into the direction when something caught your eye. Batting your lashes up at him with an innocent tilt of your head. “Daddy.. can you buy me this? Pretty please?”

He thinks he spoils you too much, only chuckling deeply before letting you drag him into the store with a squeal. The singular item turning into bags full by the time you were ready to leave. You could hear the whispers circulating around you about you and your big boyfriend, huffing with the roll of your eyes when a girl questioned your ability to please him. To take all of him, insisting to her friend that she’d do a better job.

Of course you could take him, you did every single night. When your legs are bent onto his arms. The man’s large muscles flexing as he slid your little body up and down his cock. Using you like his own personal flesh light to stroke himself with your snug walls.

You mewl loudly, head falling back onto his shoulder as your pussy gushed messily. Toji’s large hand pressing both your legs to your chest with a smirk. Watching as your eyes filled with tears at how much deeper he could reach when he began slamming up into you roughly. Throbbing tip kissing your g spot meanly before bullying its way deep inside you- being able to feel his massive girth poking desperately at your cervix for entrance.

You let out a string of high pitched moans, body shaking as Toji fucked your tight pussy on and off his cock. Your snug grip ready to milk him dry as he groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect like this baby. Shit, pretty pussy doesn’t even wanna let me go.”

“Mmfg— d-daddy. So g-good, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah? Close f’ me already? You’re taking me so well baby. Taking daddy’s cock so far up that sopping pussy like a good girl.”

You smile with a choked cry, toes curling through your socks as you neared your orgasm. You wished that girl could see you prove her wrong, show her how well you took your boyfriend’s fat cock. Something she could never ever have.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro

8K notes · View notes

cosmosis · 10 months

Text

based on this image from @fr3akingtf0utrn

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - office life

how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.

But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you.

He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat.

The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.

Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy.

As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you.

You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do.

His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront.

“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say.

Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.

Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you.

“You did well yourself, sweetie.“

Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person.

You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.”

So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)

You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission.

You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest.

“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears.

You nod. “Yes.”

And it was sealed from there.

Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it.

In the office? Yes.

During lunch? Yes.

Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing.

Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you.

. . .

“Hey, girl, look at this!“

Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”

“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.

Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates.

You raise your eyebrow.

“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory.

“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.

Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #spiderman #across the spiderverse #lyla #atsv miguel o'hara #x reader #reader inser #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

17K notes · View notes

ofaither · 1 year

Text

what if i'm sick of denying it. what if blue girl era

#no more the gentleness of yellow and the softness of pink #not yj spoilers bc blue girl was in the intro too last season #i am holding onto hope with both my fists!!!#maybe when i get home i will gif blue girl so u can all see #† ooc ˛ ‘ she’s never gonna do anything wrong!

1 note · View note

myfictionaldreams · 6 months

Text

Day 16: DP in 1 hole - Mafia!Stucky

Summary: You were adamant about proving Steve wrong and doing something you’ve never done before.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome (f/m/m), double penetration in one hole, size kink, dom/sub, sir kink, masturbation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms, overstimulated, teasing, kinda mean!steve, discussion of safe words, praise kink, creampie

masterlist 📚

kinktober masterlist😈

AO3 Link

“Just…Just do it; I can’t take it, I promise. Please, sir!” Each word you sobbed seemed to stumble into the next as you begged so quickly, wiping your tear-stained face on the muscled shoulder. The man beneath ran his fingers over your scalp to try and calm you, ignoring the fact that his cock was still pressed so deep inside of your cunt that he was knocking into your cervix with each breath, let alone thrust. Bucky was holding you tightly from where you lay draped over his muscular body, both of your chests rubbing against one another, and from this position, it meant that the Brunette gang member could look over your shoulder to the other man on the bed.

“Oh baby girl, you sound so pretty when you’re begging like that”, Steve mocked with an air of arrogance, loving that your reactions were becoming more pathetic. One of his big hands was wrapped around his cock, pleasuring himself as he squeezed your arse cheek with the other. He had the perfect view from where he knelt in the centre of the bed, with Bucky and you led out in front of him; even though your back was facing him, he could see where your face was turned to the side, see the tear tracks down your cheek.

He couldn’t blame you for having this reaction; this had been going on for hours, and you’d been so good for him, but sometimes he and Bucky wanted to play, push you to your limits. In doing so, you became increasingly more pathetic and submissive, whimpering and needy for more until either Steve or Bucky enough was enough.

“You’ve done so well for us, Doll”, Bucky praised with a smirk as he kissed the back of your head, which, in turn, earned an eye roll from Steve as he knew his best friend was just trying to give you all the compliments so you’d cling to him more. “How many times has she orgasmed for us now, Stevie? 5? 6?”

Steve couldn’t help himself as he spanked your arse cheek, watching the jiggle of the muscle and the way you initially cried and jolted at the action but then moaned and perked your arse up to receive another one. Bucky also groaned at the impact as your walls had clamped down around his cock so tight that he almost came. Steve chuckled under his breath at the glare from Bucky, who had been trying to edge himself for the last half an hour and knowing what Steve was like, he wanted to see just how good his will strength was.

“She’s came so many times that she’s made a mess over the bed, haven’t you, Baby? And yet, you still want more? I don’t think you can handle any more, especially both of us”. Steve licked his bottom lip as he eyed your pretty hole, even wondering himself if this was even possible; yes, he’d seen it on porn, but two cocks in one hole? “We’re so big anyway, Honey; there’s no way you’ll be able to take both me and Bucky.” Steve taunts and earns even more of a desperate cry, more tears streaking down your cheeks.

“Pl-Please, Sir! Just try; I can take you both; I know I can”. To try and prove some kind of a point that you were not done with the fucking, you pushed yourself up slightly on Bucky’s chest and began to ride his cock. However, you were exhausted, and your cunt was puffy and sensitive, so it was more of a gentle roll than a harsh ride.

“That’s it, feel so good on top of me, Sweetheart”, Bucky groans, both hands on your hips to try and guide you slightly, completely forgetting about the double penetration idea for the moment all thoughts turned to the steadily moving wet warmth that moved around his shaft.

Steve’s arm wrapped around your chest from behind so that his hand secured around your jaw, pulling you flush against him; his mouth dipped to the shell of your ear, teasing with his teeth and causing a gasp to escape your lips. “If it hurts, what are you going to do?” he asks, his voice full of authority that was usually just saved for when he was at work.

“I’ll say my safe word”, you immediately answer, clarity clearing in your mind as your movements slowed, knowing that this discussion was necessary.

“Good girl. Now if my cock doesn’t fit next to Bucky’s, you’ll continue to be good, aren’t you, and not complain. We’ll just continue playing like we have been, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir, I understand”, you say without any sort of whimper or stutter noted as your eyes finally blinked open. Bucky smiled warmly up at you, which caused your hole to clench at just how handsome he was, but before he could react, Steve was releasing his hold on your face and pressing against your shoulders until you were lying flat against Bucky again.

You stopped rolling your hips and waited patiently for the next steps, which were Steve’s fingers. He didn’t need to use lube just yet as the blonde leader gathered some of your fluid from where you and Bucky were connected onto his index and middle finger. Ever so gently, he ran his fingers around the rim of your hole, near your perineum, as this was the area presented to him and where he was hoping to slip his cock into eventually.

With Bucky still inside, Steve ended up teasing him and stroking the two of you. Adding extra pressure, Steve slipped his fingers into your hole, following Bucky’s length until he reached the first knuckle. You were snug around his fingers as he managed to push in a couple of centimetres further until nearly to the second knuckle.

Steve pressed his hand on your lower back as he observed you taking a deep breath to keep all the muscles between your legs relaxed, which made it easier for the man to continue to stretch you.

“That’s amazing, Baby, you’re taking my fingers so well. Look at that! Taking two of my fingers and Bucky’s cock, aren’t you our special girl”. Steve’s praises helped to keep you relaxed as you smiled and warmed at the words he was saying like he was stroking the happy part of your mind.

Bucky bit his lip at the sensation, which was difficult to explain. As Steve stretched your hole, it made everything feel tighter, and just as he pushed deeper, he also had the stimulation of Steve touching the sensitive part of the underside of his cock.

“Just going to stretch you a little bit first, then I’ll add another finger”, Steve explained as his eyes trained between your face and pussy. He moved both of his fingers in semi-circles, trying to see how far your walls were willing to stretch.

Holding back a groan, he could feel how much you were trying not to clench and knew if they did succeed with this, he would lose his mind. He just hoped he didn’t cum as soon as he penetrated, which was a similar thought that Bucky had.

Scissoring his fingers around Bucky’s cock, Steve shifted closer so that a third finger could be added alongside the other two. You desperately moaned in Bucky’s chest, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving nail crevices in his one fleshed shoulder.

Steve remained still for a few seconds, allowing you to adjust before moving in and out slowly. “Fuck Steve!” It wasn’t you who moaned but Bucky who had closed his eyes to try and concentrate on not cuming before the action had even begun. It felt so good to have his cock inside your puffy tight hole, but then to have fingers as well stroking along his shaft was unlike anything he’d experienced before.

Looking over your shoulder, you took a deep breath and tried to sound as confident as possible, the tears having now stopped as you remained calm. “Please, Steve, I can take it, just try”.

Steve ignored your pleas to hurry up and continued to stretch your pussy, twisting and spreading his fingers to give his cock extra space. Even though he was three fingers deep, he and Bucky were not exactly small in the cock division. This was why this fucking session had been going on for so long because they spent so much precious time making sure you were adequately stretched to take one of their cocks, let alone two at the same time.

There had been plenty of times where one of them had been fucking your cunt and the other in your arse but nothing to the extent of two cocks in one hole.

You sighed as Steve finally pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube, coating his cock thoroughly before wiping a generous blob onto your pussy. Moving his entire body closer, Steve began to prepare for the insertion.

“Remember: Safeword”, Steve said loudly enough that you glanced over your shoulder and nodded. “Take a deep breath for me, Baby”.

You did as instructed, filling your lungs to the brim with oxygen before slowly breathing out of your mouth, which is when you felt considerable pressure between your legs.

As Steve was so thoroughly lubed, his cock nearly slid in the wrong direction, so he had to push the tip of his cock hard against Bucky’s shaft and then knock his hips with a deep thrust. At first, he wasn’t sure he would get it into your pussy with how much resistance he was met with, but then it nudged beneath the rim and was welcomed into the dangerously tight warmth of your cunt.

You had expected it to hurt in some way, but to your happy surprise, all it initially felt like was the deep burn that came with stretching your cunt for a cock, just with increased intensity. It was an odd sensation to experience, like you were going to break at the first stretch, but as your body relaxed and more of his cock pushed in, everything was just thigh highest level of pleasure imaginable.

The screaming moan you released echoed around the bedroom as Steve’s cock penetrated until he, too, was caressing your cervix with the mushroom tip of his dick.

Bucky's hands were massaging over your arse, hips and back as he tried to keep himself under control. Having Steve’s cock moving against his but pressing hard with the limited room, the difference in textures between your gummy walls and the solidness of the shaft. The tightness was another experience, almost like a pretty vice trapping his cock to perfection.

“Holy shit, Baby! That’s it; stay nice and relaxed for us. I'm just going to let you get adjusted for a moment.” Seeing his and Bucky’s lengths fitting into one hole, Steve was mesmerised. He even contemplated reaching for his phone and taking a picture to show you the wondrous thing your body could achieve.

With your cunt stretched so far, Steve and Bucky were adamant that they could feel your pulse fluttering through your walls. Not only this, but you’d squirted over Bucky from just the stretch.

You knew that you were too squished between them both to take over right now and ride their cocks and also the exercise that your body was going through; you weren’t sure you even had the energy to push off of Bucky’s chest to find a good position.

Thankfully, Steve was more than prepared to fuck for the three of you. His two meaty hands joined Bucky’s over your hips as he ever so carefully began to rock his hips in the smallest of motions so that only an inch of his cock was moving in and out of your cunt.

As more of his length edged out before being pushed in, your entire body seemed to just give up with the tension running through it with the anticipation of the double penetration. Your limbs went slack, as well as your jaw, as your mouth opened in a perfect circle to allow the animalistic grunts and moans just to seep out.

“You sound so good when you moan like that”, Bucky gasped as he tried to fuck up with Steve, causing your body to jolt with the movements.

Soon, they were both fucking your pussy, Bucky, at a slow pace that allowed his cock to brush over all of the hyper-sensitive nerves of your g-spot and with the pressure of Steve’s cock pushing on him, you could feel every since ridge of Bucky. Steve, on the other hand, was able to fuck you with a bit more intensity, sweat beginning to drip down his temple, but he couldn’t give a shit about that right now, not when his girl was taking him so well.

“I’m so proud of you, taking both of us so well; you feel so fucking good”. Steve’s voice sounded almost as desperate as your begging did earlier as his eyebrows knitted together with the pleasure taking over his body.

Bucky was watching Steve, feeling his length fucking against his, the tightness of your pussy, the moans you were all sharing; he knew his orgasm was impending. Steve could see this from how Bucky’s hands slackened, and the grunts stopped as he tried to concentrate on not orgasming.

To be truthful, Steve was also near his orgasm, and you’d been in a constant state of cumming since both cocks had slipped inside, the coil in your abdomen tight and fluttering with involuntary contractions around their cocks. Releasing the hold on your hip, Steve reached over to grab Bucky's jaw, forcing him to look up at his boyfriend and boss.

“Cum for me, Bucky, I know you want to. Let’s fill our girl up together, yeah? Make her drip with our cum, that’s it, fucking cum for me, Bucky”.

Steve tightened his hold on Bucky’s face and slammed into you with an increased pace that your eyes rolled back just in time for Bucky to cum, hard.

“Fuck! Holy-Shit-” Bucky cried out, his body withering beneath you like he wanted to arch his back but couldn’t be with you on top. You could feel the wetness and warmth of his seed as he spilt deep inside you.

“Good boy, look so pretty when you cum. Don’t you think so, Baby?” Steve asked you, but you weren’t paying attention, not when you were deeply lost in pleasure. Steve’s pace increased further as he fucked his way to orgasm a few seconds later. More cum filled your pussy, mixing with Bucky’s as it began to drip out of you. Steve’s head tilted back as he thrust through the orgasm until the shivers ceased, and he could take a minute to catch his breath.

Sitting back on his heels, Steve’s cock slipped out of your cunt first, swiftly followed by Bucky’s, meaning the blonde had the perfect view of your pulsing, gaping hole as it leaked with their seed, dripping out onto the sheets below.

Despite being half asleep due to exhaustion, you managed to whisper, “See, I told you I could do it”.

#mafia!stucky #mafia au #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky smut #marvel smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

4K notes · View notes

starrynyx · 4 months

Text

i wanna talk about this portrayal of sally jackson and how it feels notably younger than the 2010 movie or even the musical. obviously her age is never explicitly stated there or in the books, but mama was sitting on the fire escape in the rain listening to olivia rodrigo and thinking about her ex. she's giving big 30-something millennial energy and i think that's so important in the context of HER story as a young mother alone in the world just trying her best. i think percy paints her as this angelic, caring, gentle presence that can do no wrong but the pov shift in the show lets us see her rougher edges, the places where she wasn't always perfect. and maybe im reading too far into this but if you reframe her and percy's relationship within the context of her being that young, of them reaching this quasi-gillmore girls space of "you are my baby but you're also my best friend and all i have in this world" idk it just feels a lot deeper somehow, like they're giving sally more dimension and development earlier on and i'm so excited to see her arc progress in future seasons

#im rambling #but as someone who had a teen mom and read those books when i was 12 and my mom was 30 #i had a MUCH different relationship with her than my friends had with their moms #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians

3K notes · View notes

explicit-tae · 6 months

Text

Ungodly Hour: Day 1

You and Jungkook are together for the whole weekend. All he truly wanted from you was to admit you were his girl - but like always, he had to fuck it out of you. @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx

Series Masterlist

word count: 3.675

warning: dirty talk, nipple sucking, slight kissing, neck biting, edging, face-slapping, cocky/jealous/possessive/dominant jungkook, bitchy/shit-talking but submissive reader, creampie, crying, begging,

“You cooked this?” your mother is first to ask once she bites into the meat, eyes growing slightly wide. “It tastes amazing.”

Jungkook gives a toothy grin and nods. “I added a secret sauce that my father has taught me.”

You want to roll your eyes at Jungkook.

Dinner was going by smoothly. Around 20 minutes ago, your parents arrived. Your father appeared much the same, nonchalant and just ready to eat. Your mother did most of the talking. Her eyes roamed the apartment with prying eyes. She asked Jungkook and you questions after questions, all of which Jungkook responded to quickly and without hesitation.

“How did you two really meet?” your mother asks after a moment. “I assume it couldn’t have been tweeter.”

You scoff. “No. It was not twitter.”

Jungkook places a hand atop yours and laughs. He wraps his fingers into your own and eyes you. He then brings your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss. “We met at the University.” Jungkook nods. “She was so cold to me at first.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Typical of her.”

“I must’ve asked her out a million times. I was shut down each and every time. Right, baby?”

You want to snatch that smirk off of his lips, but you only roll your eyes.

“I think she got tired of my begging and agreed to a date.” Jungkook turns to your mother. “Ever since then, I’ve been attached to her like a lost puppy.”

Your father listens, not interested in speaking, but interested enough to appear apart of the conversation. “I’m glad.” your mother speaks. She takes a sip of her water. “Y/N can be a little mean.”

You knit your brows, but before you can speak Jungkook cackles. “She can!” he agrees.

Oh wow, you think.

“But that’s what I love about her. She’s feisty and stubborn.” Jungkook looks your way, his eyes burning into you. You glance away from them and grunt, feeling hot. “And she always speaks up for me at restaurants when they get my order wrong.”

“That was once.” you quip. “You asked for extra sauce…”

“I did.” Jungkook nods. “I thought she was going to rip someone’s head off.” he tells your mother jokingly. “At least I know she cares.”

Jungkook was right - he had won over your mother.

That was expected, however. Your mother was easy to please. Jungkook was the equivalent of tall, dark and handsome. He’s easy to speak with and was such a smooth talker that it even had her swooning. He was affectionate, often kissing your hand or your head - more than usual, but you told yourself he was milking this to the very end.

Now, your father was a different story. He was able to engage the man into conversation and actually hold it, having your fathers full and undivided attention. That is when you realized that Jungkook meant what he said - that even if this fake dating didn’t end with the both of you actually dating, that Jungkook would be there regardless. Your mother was already inviting him to dinner the following week and even hugged him before leaving - before she hugged you.

“I’ll see you two next week?” your mother asks as she’s strolling out the door.

Jungkook wraps you in a tight embrace, his head resting on your shoulder. “You will!” he responds to her, waving curtly. “Y/N tells me about your cooking all the time. I can’t wait!”

You grumble - it was all the time, but you weren’t aware Jungkook was actually listening to your random ramblings. He was slowly winning your mother over that you were sure she would have him for dinner even without you there.

“You think you’re cute?” you push Jungkook off of you once the door is shut.

“Is that the thanks I get for making a good impression?”

You cross your arms. “You know what you were doing complimenting her the entire night.”

Jungkook smirks. “Like mother, like daughter. You both like my praises.” Jungkook’s hands are on you again, bringing you closer to him. “I have to keep myself on top if I’m going to be competing against these boyfriends.”

Your hands are against his chest to push him away. “Ugh, take me home.”

“You aren’t staying the weekend?” Jungkook pouts his lips slightly. “We have to finish binge watching Law & Order.”

“You’re right.” you sigh for a moment. “And here I thought I had a chance to get rid of you.”

“You never can.” Jungkook’s right hand slaps your ass. You yelp, but it was only a gesture to bring you closer to him. He pecks your lips. “Let’s get going. We have the entire weekend ahead of us.”

The night shouldn’t have ended like this. You told yourself that you and Jungkook wouldn’t be entangled together - especially since you were watching Law & Order - there was no way Jungkook could ignore such an amazing series to get his cock wet.

But Jungkook had.

It started with light touching. Jungkook’s bed is soft and it’s easy to be comfortable. He had gave you a shirt to wear - even if you had a weekend's worth of clothes - he insisted it would be best. You were certain he just wanted you in his shirt to appear more domesticated.

Your first mistake was not wearing anything but the shirt and panties. Jungkook’s hands wandered upon your skin, his body dangerously close to yours. His hips would rut against your ass, prying hand going beneath the oversized shirt. “Just one kiss, Y/N. Don’t be like that.” was what he said - and you caved.

Of course it could never be one kiss. One peck led to him begging for more - and more. It led to him flipping you to face him, his hand squeezing the flesh of your ass to bring you closer to him. It continued with you being on top of him, tongues fighting against one another. His hands stayed upon your ass, rubbing gently as you and he kissed.

“We’re missing the show.” you protest, breaking free of the heated kiss.

“We can always go back.” Jungkook eyes you with hooded eyes. “You look so pretty in my shirt.” he murmurs.

“Shut up, simp.” you roll your eyes jokingly.

“I can never compliment my girl without getting called a simp.” Jungkook tsks. His hands rub up your rib back down to your waist to your thighs. “It’s true, though. I wanna wake up with you like this every day.”

“I would have to actually be your girl for that to happen.” you retort. You gently grind against him, lips flashing him a mischievous grin.

“You are my girl.” Jungkook hisses low, hands squeezing your hips to keep you firmly against him. “I got you in my shirt, don’t I?”

Jungkook and his logical comebacks. Damn him.

“I got you to stay with me this weekend, right?” Jungkook continues, his tongue coating his lips with moisture.

“So?”

Jungkook manages to lift himself up without disrupting you. You and he are face to face now, your thighs caging him in between you.

“So that makes you my girl.” Jungkook pecks your lips. “I know you like being called my girl, Y/N. Each time I say it you grind against me a little harder.”

Truly, fuck Jeon Jungkook because damn was he right.

“Exactly.” Jungkook murmurs, and for a second you believe he’s going to say something else - a comment that would indicate just how “down bad” you were for him. But no, Jungkook continues to stare at you.

You shift in his lap and with that, Jungkook blinks. “You’re really pretty.”

You frown, knitting your brows together in an attempt to be annoyed - even if your heart did jolt.

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook continues, his arms embracing you. “Far too stubborn to admit.”

“Is this how you ask out all your girls?” you snort, but feel yourself melting in his warm embrace. “Just demand for them to be with you?”

“There you go, Y/N.” Jungkook chuckles. “You go in that head of yours and start being delusional and fantasize me being with other girls.”

“Excuse me?” Delusional?

“Why are you adamant on me having multiple girls?” Jungkook gently kisses your forehead just because he knows it annoys you - his random acts of affection or kindness in a situation that is deemed “serious”.

You shrug your shoulders. “You fit the fuck boy aesthetic.” was all you say.

Jungkook snorts. “You think I have girls lining up to suck my dick in exchange for streaming services?”

You gasp. “We said we wouldn’t bring that up!” you hiss.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” Jungkook smiles. “I just don’t see how you think I’m a fuck boy even now. I barked in order to meet your parents. I’m still getting laughed at in the groupchat.”

You suppress your own laughter, only giving Jungkook a grin.

“I basically fund your whole lifestyle. I think that’s far beyond a fuck boy.” Jungkook adds - but not in a way to throw it in your face or to appear as though you need him to.

“A sugar daddy at best.” you shrug, but even you can’t help but laugh at the bewildered look on Jungkook’s face. “You do know you aren’t obligated to buy me things.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes - it was the same song and dance as before. He’d get you something he heard you speak about once a few days prior - you would insist it wasn’t a need, but the sparkle in your eyes was enough for him to keep doing it.

“As my girl…” Jungkook places a kiss at the nape of your neck. “...it’s required of me to.”

“Until you get bored and throw me to the side.” you feel Jungkook’s teeth bite down on your neck.

“You do everything but admit you like me, baby.” Jungkook presses you firmly against him. “I’m beginning to think that’s what you want me to do so you can remain in denial.”

Jungkook’s hands go beneath the large shirt of his you wore. Your skin is so soft and smooth - the both of you shudder.

“You’re okay.” you murmur, biting your lip when you feel both of his hands engulf your breasts.

“Just okay?” Jungkook’s tongue twirls on the spot he bit. “I can have you on your back begging for me in seconds, baby. Nothing about me is ‘just okay’.”

Your play hard to get was not going to last - especially not now. The cocky Jungkook was creeping in, and he knew that your words were nothing but bluffs.

“I’m sure I would be the same way with someone else.”

You couldn’t help it. It was a game for you at times to rile up Jungkook. He was the jealousy and competitive type - he had to prove that he was the best at any and everything he did.

“You want me to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook chuckles, but you can hear the slight irritation in his voice - deep and raspy; ready to prove you wrong. You shudder slightly as goosebumps ride across your skin.

You really did. You were already wet enough, his hands and mouth adding to it. There was nothing like Jungkook fucking your petty words right out of you.

“You do this every time, Y/N.” Jungkook bites your neck harshly and you yelp, squirming. “You love messing with me. It must turn you on seeing me fuck the submission into you.”

You swallow thickly to suppress a moan. “I just give you what you want.” you shrug slightly.

“What do I want?”

“Someone to moan for you no matter if it feels good or not.”

You were playing a dangerous game with Jungkook, but it just brings nothing but excitement through you.

You yelp once more when you feel your hair being yanked. “You’re being a bitch again, baby.” Jungkook murmurs, but even he is amused by your attempts. You can never just tell him that you want him - never tell him that you want him to dominate. Instead, you deny or insinuate the opposite just to give him a reason to prove you wrong.

But Jungkook said it once before, he loved your ‘play hard to get’ game you played with him; when he had you it was much more satisfying.

“Isn’t that what you like about me?” you tease, and even in the dim room - law and order playing ignored in the background - you are beautiful to him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Love it.” Jungkook presses his lips firmly onto yours, his tongue sliding past your mouth. It’s quick and he’s rough, but you cannot protest. His hands are gripping your flesh so hard that you feel as though they’d leave a mark.

Jungkook yanks the shirt off of you, tongue instantly finding both of your breasts. Your legs are wrapped around him, his clothed cock pressing firmly against you.

“Why can’t you be normal?” Jungkook’s lips pops from your nipples, his tongue licking it furiously. “A normal girl would just tell me she wants me to be a little rough and not provoke it out of me.”

Jungkook grips both of your breasts into the palm of his hands and brings both of your nipples into his mouth.Your back arches at the warm sensation pooling through you.

“I-I have to tell you how to fuck like a man?”

There was a new sensation when the words left your mouth and hit Jungkook’s ears. It’s a sensation that shoots straight to your core and leaves your cheek stinging.

The room is silent, Jungkook’s eyes wide watching your reaction for a moment. He’s ready to apologize for not thinking before he slaps you, but it’s your moan that draws him back to reality.

“You liked that?” Jungkook murmurs and you nod, biting your lip. Jungkook grunts, his mind wandering just how far you’d let him go.

Jungkook unwraps your legs from around him and removes himself from the bed. He drags you to the edge of it, you yelping at the sudden movement. Jungkook removes your panties and widens your legs. He’s cocky - through the flashing television light, he see’s how wet you are for him.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Jungkook demands.

You swallow, finding it difficult underneath his intense gaze. Jungkook lowers himself, burying his tongue deep within your folds. He forces your legs open each time you threaten to close them. His eyes are locked onto your fluttering ones, watching as you moan and cry for him. You were so beautiful for him - if only you’d allow him to admire your beauty. Oftentimes when he looked your way, you were quick to respond with a witty remark.

“Fuck…” you groan, breaking eye-contact just as he enters his fingers inside of you. You lay your head back and continue to pant.

“You never allow me to treat you nicely.” Jungkook removes his tongue from your clit to spit on it, continuing his pumping. “If you’d let me, I would take good care of you.” Jungkook licks his lips, the wet sounds of your pussy like a melody to his ears. “But instead, you want to be a bitch. I don’t get it.”

“K-Kookie…” you draw out a moan, a hand cupping your breast. You can feel the familiar churning in your stomach. “I’m gonna cum-”

“No you aren’t.” Jungkook removes his fingers from inside of you, hand slapping your clit.

Your eyes shoot open, your pussy clenching around nothing. “W-What-”

Your mouth is stuffed with Jungkook’s fingers, your tongue twirling around them.

“See how good you taste?” Jungkook questions, removing his fingers to grip your chin tightly. “I would let you cum but…I’m sure you can always find someone else to do it. Since you enjoy faking so much.”

Your heart is pumping and you flush hot with embarrassment. You aren’t sure what to say - Jungkook had you beat.

“Aw,” Jungkook chuckles. “You look so sad, baby. I can let you cum.”

You swallow, glancing away from Jungkook.

“Is that what you want?”

You nod your head, but Jungkook wants to hear you.

You yelp when your clit is slapped once more. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes!” you try not to moan and sound too desperate, but it’s inevitable.

“Yes what, baby?” Jungkook’s already tugging his bottom half off, his underwear going along with it. His shirt is next, chisel abs in your line of vision that you groan at just the sight. “Tell me what you want, Y/N. You have a mouth any other time.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his cocky attitude.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his amazing dick that has you following along with him. “Please fuck me.” you sigh in defeat. “Please make me cum, Kook.”

“With pleasure.” Jungkook is delighted. He slaps the top of his cock against your clit, licking his lips. “So wet. To think you said someone else can have you like this.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to let that go - you can only imagine how hard he was going to fuck-

“J-Jungkook…!” you shout in surprise at how hard he enters you, his thrusting increasing by the second. Your back slams against the bed with each thrust, and it only bounces back just as hard.

“You can handle it, Y/N.” Jungkook hisses, fingernails digging into your flesh. “You don’t want me to be nice, you don’t want to be my girl…”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, panting heavily. Jungkook’s tone appears serious - you’d have to ask later on if your words really got to him like they appeared to have.

“I let you…fuck…” Jungkook’s head hangs, eyes unsure where to focus. Your breast bounced furiously in rhythm with his pounding. Your face is scrunched with pleasure, a bit of drool in the corner of your mouth. “...I let you sit on my face. I let you spend as much of my money as you’d like with no limit. I…”

Jungkook grips your chin once more, forcing you to focus on him. It’s difficult - Jungkook doesn’t allow you a second to breathe, but you don’t want him to.

“And all I really ask you to be is my girl.”

It pains for him to remove himself from you - all he wants is to cum deep inside of you like you’d allow him before. But - his pride and ego got the best of him. If you were going to front as if you didn’t need him to cum, then you weren’t.

“Kook…” you cry in defeat, pussy once more clenching around nothing.

Jungkook laughs, a dark glee in the tone. “And like I said before, Y/N…” your eyes flutter a bit looking at his face - dark lust filled eyes staring right into yours. “...I can have you on your back begging for me, can’t I?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Your chest heaves. “Fuck you.” you curse at how meek your voice appeared.

“I bet you’d like that baby.” Jungkook plays with your clit slightly. “You’re my girl, right?”

You lick your lips, thighs quivering.

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” Jungkook centers his tip at your entrance, thumb circling against your wet bud. “That’s all I want from you, baby. You can have anything you want from me…”

Jungkook enters you slowly this time. Your groan is long and deep, your hands reaching out to grab Jungkook’s bicep.

“J-Jungkook.” you trail off - the pleasure now getting to you. You just wanted to cum by him - his hands, mouth, cock, whatever it took.

“Yes, baby?” Jungkook breathes - he’s unsure himself if he’d be able to last long like this and then his ego would be hurt (but then again, he wouldn’t have blueballs).

“Please make me cum, Kookie.” you wail, hot tears falling down your face. You had to look utterly pathetic weeping for dick. Jungkook’s ego was now going to skyrocket and this moment is something he would forever hold over your head - no jokes from you could ever be taken now. “I had you on your back crying for me, baby” - you can hear it now.

But - you were desperate. Jungkook was hot, his dick was amazing and you’d allow him to have this over you.

“I’m your girl, Kookie.”

Jungkook shudders - and now he’s truly satisfied. He pounds into you sloppily, certain that neither of you were going to last long. You’re clenching around him so heavenly, moaning and crying his names that he cannot help but want to cum inside of you each and every time.

“I know you’re close, baby.” you hear Jungkook say, his forehead - moist with sweat - pressed onto yours. “We can come together, okay?”

“Y-Yea…” you nod, but you wrap your arms around Jungkook and press your lips against his. You’re groaning against the kiss, already cumming on his cock.

Jungkook feels the electric shock go through him and he shudders. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook cums inside of you, trembling at the sensation.

Ten minutes it’s what it took for you and Jungkook to come back to reality. You’re sweaty and you haven’t even done anything.

“You wanna shower?” Jungkook’s voice pipes in. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too overboard, right?”

You nod your head. “I’m okay.” you murmur.

Jungkook nods. He kisses your temple. “I can start the shower for you-”

“You aren’t coming?” you ask once you feel Jungkook shuffle on the bed.

“I-I..” Jungkook’s eyes are wide and doe like. He appears completely surprised that you offered such a thing. “You’d like me to?”

You laugh at his expression. How you manage to remove yourself from the bed is beyond you - your legs are shaking with pain that you’re not upset about.

Jungkook feels your hands against his bare chest and he tilts his head, awaiting your response. “I said I was your girl, wasn’t I?” you murmur, sending a kiss to his chest.

In seconds, Jungkook is erect again at just the admission.

Series Masterlist

#ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts smut #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #bts college au #bts fwb #jungkook friends with benefits #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #bangtanwriters net

3K notes · View notes

ceilidho · 1 month

Text

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 6) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

And they say if it sways, you have to cut it off at the root.

You repeat that to yourself when you catch the way you glance out the kitchen window again, surreptitiously watching John. It’s hard to pull your eyes away. He walks over to the well to fetch water for you to do the dishes, the chore you’d elected to take when he offered you the choice between that and feeding the horses. It’s a fair compromise since you balk at the thought of getting anywhere near either of those beasts.

Watching him bend over the well to lower the bucket down, his muscled shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and suspenders drawing tight against his back, makes you bite your lip. Then scowl. Then pull the curtain shut to block out the view.

You have to cut any gentleness off at the root.

When he comes back, you step to the side without a word to let him pour the water into the wash basin, hot water from the teakettle and lye soap making the water already in the pan sudsy. In a sense, it’s not any different from anything you’ve done back home; the same two pans for washing and scalding, the same cake of soap, and the same dish towel to dry the dishes off at the end. The only difference is the man that pours the cool water into the basin to make it more comfortable for your hands.

“I’ll be out back,” he tells you, before grabbing you around the waist and pulling you in close to press a close-mouthed kiss to the side of your head. You only scrunch your nose a little. “When you’re done, come get me. Got business in town.”

“Why do you need me to come with you?” you ask, lips cresting into a pout without a thought. You’d never considered yourself a bellyacher, but it’s almost second nature around John. “I can…I can stay and clean the house.”

“You saying I keep a messy home?” John asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

You look pointedly down at the dirt he tracked into the kitchen after fetching the bucket of water from the well. “It could do with a spit shine.”

That gets a laugh out of him, a bellow from deep in his belly. It shakes you to your bones.

“Darling, I’ll be honest with you,” he says, turning you to face him before folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust you not to bolt like a runaway horse, and you’ll only wind up putting yourself in danger if you try to make a run for it out here.”

That expression makes your stomach twist. “Good to know you think of your wife as some scared filly.”

“You talk a whole lot for a woman who’s been over my knee. Do we need to repeat that?”

When his tone goes stern, you lose the wedging piece of candor keeping you upright. Eyes widen and then narrow. He’s been patient despite your loose tongue, but when that patience slips, you can see the steel underneath his gentle exterior. It’s the true root of him.

You clam up under his stare, sullen and begrudging. Smooth your dress down to have something to do with your hands. You’ve forgotten your place again. Side-stepped it out of intimacy or misplaced trust or naivety or forgetting, again, for the umpteenth time, that the world is not a place for women that open their mouths. So you keep it shut, trap every festering word behind your teeth.

He must not like something he sees painted on your face because his brows draw closer together, frustration brewing anew in his eyes. The longer you stay quiet, the more irritated he grows, his nostrils flaring wide.

“See that you come get me as soon as everything’s squared away in here,” John bites out, pointing a single, blunt finger at you. “Else I’ll come get you myself.”

And we wouldn’t want that, you think, surly. You hope it swims across your eyes. Blooms on your face. Perhaps it does.

The lines around his mouth and eyes grow more defined when he smiles. His whole mustache moves with his smile, every part of his face expressing his satisfaction. It’s beyond infuriating. He taps you on the nose with his knuckle before leaving out the backdoor, not sparing you a backward glance. You nearly shake with indignation.

It’s hard not to watch him out in the paddock while drying the dishes though, not with him set against the gilded sun. You inch the curtain slightly open, just enough of a gap to peer through. The Stetson shadows his face when he tilts his head up towards the sky, the hard edge of his jaw the only thing that meets your gaze. It’s not the first time you’ve seen a man out in the fields or pastures, but most of those have been at a distance, removed. Glimpsed briefly through the window while your train barreled on past acres of farmland.

John cycles through the morning tasks of guiding the horses into the paddock by a lead fixed to their halter, replenishing the food trough, and fetching more water from the well to fill the water trough. His horses are striking in the sheer size of them; muscled shoulders and legs, and well-padded flanks. Most of the horses you’ve seen out west haven’t seemed nearly as well-fed, many whittled down to rib and hip bone.

It says something about him, but you’re not ready to confront exactly what. You turn your attention back to the dishes, scrubbing the last of the dried butter and eggs at the bottom of the pan. It takes a little extra grit, but cleaning is a familiar chore—it’s one you’ve done all your life, what got you into this mess in the first place.

You don’t like what you find when you finally venture out of the house to track him down.

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

You put your veritable foot down with that, arms straight and stiff by your sides, more out of worry than annoyance. You do also give a little stomp for good measure, but you’ll chalk that up to reflexes should John inquire.

He doesn’t. Just stares down at you with unimpressed green eyes that haunt your days and nights now. Tells you without telling you that you’ll get on that horse, willing or not.

It’s not for a lack of beauty that you can’t quite shake the nervousness they elicit in you. Buttercup, the one that John saddled up and now waits patiently to be mounted, keeps her head low as if sensing your disquiet, curiosity glimmering in her coal black eyes. Not even the animal curiosity of is this a friend or foe, but the curiosity that comes with pure trust, almost intelligible that way.

John runs his hand down her smooth, buttery flank. “Did you enjoy yesterday’s walk?”

“I didn’t hate it.” Truth be told, you’d hardly been of a mind to notice it at all. Though your legs still ache from the walk back to John’s house, the walk itself had not seemed especially grueling in the moment. The mind can put aside quite a bit when it has something else to focus on.

“Well, I’m not too keen to repeat it.” He leaves it at that, tightening a strap on Buttercup’s saddle in such a purposeful way that your shoulders tense.

“I could meet you there,” you say, a touch desperately. Your stomach turns when you think about hoisting yourself up onto Buttercup’s saddle. It doesn’t seem possible. It’s not something you’ve ever done or ever considered doing. You remember horror stories of stableboys back home trampled under their hooves and stomped to death, kicks so powerful that they could break a fully grown man’s ribs or cave in his face.

“My wife isn’t gonna wander into town by her lonesome like some vagrant,” John says disdainfully, almost scoffing. Insulted by the whole idea. “And you’re sure as hell not staying here alone, darlin’.”

“Well, figure something else out because I am not getting up on that thin—” You cut off on a yelp when he circles around you and abruptly lifts you up. Your head rushes at the sudden motion, legs flailing beneath you.

“Quit squirmin’ like a damn barn cat. Little hellion,” John grits out, guiding your heel into the stirrup. “C’mon, you’re just side saddling, so you only need your butt on the saddle.” When he sets you down lightly onto the saddle, you stop wiggling around, acutely aware of the thousand pound horse beneath you. “There we go—that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

“I hate this,” you hiss, fingers clamped tight over the pommel.

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go insulting Buttercup like that,” John chuckles, replacing your foot in the stirrup with his own.

You sit there stiff as a board, perched precariously on the saddle as he hoists himself up behind you. His sheer proximity doesn’t register right away. You’re too concerned with the moving beast under you, its ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. Unlike you, John is more than comfortable sitting astride the horse, not a smidgeon of tension in his body. You suck in a horrified breath when you feel him readjust himself before settling down more comfortably.

He reaches around you to grab the reins, a sharp whistle signaling the horse to take her first stride forward, looping around the side of the house. Even the slow trot threatens to buck you off at first. You lurch forward with each step, certain that you’ll slip right off the saddle and onto the dusty ground below until John loops an arm around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

You grow stiffer in his arms somehow. Despite sleeping in the same bed the night before and sharing far too many kisses for your comfort or virtue, being pressed up tight against a man never gets easier. Perhaps if you’d been married for longer than a single day you’d be more at ease with the notion, but as of yet, it comes as a shock to the senses every time.

You carefully avoid the thought that other married women wouldn’t be still in possession of their maidenhead so many hours after their wedding night. That’s none of your business.

The two of you navigate into town at a slow canter, allowing you to gradually acclimatize to the gait of a horse. Part of you remembers riding horses when you were younger, but that was a lifetime ago, long enough to shake the memory from your muscles. These days, you can barely remember the hands holding you steady, the ones that would’ve lifted you up onto the horse and helped you back down. Those people are faceless in your memories.

John stays silent at your back, only tightening his hand around your hip when you slip the slightest bit when Buttercup picks up the pace, heading towards the familiar sight of the sheriff’s office. It draws a quick squawk out of you, neatly masked by a fake cough. His chuckle at that rumbles through you, clearly not buying it. Another lesson in humiliation.

You manage not to flail as much when he gets off the horse and helps you down, even though you’re still not used to being manhandled so, particularly not in front of the townsfolk milling about and glancing over with undisguised interest.

“Are you working today?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you while John ties Buttercup’s lead to the post outside the sheriff’s office.

“Don’t exactly get many days off when you’re the only sheriff in the county,” John replies. “We’ve got a few deputies in every town, and a couple here, but it ain’t an easy gig.”

“How many deputies have you got here?”

“Just the three. Simon, John, and Kyle. You met Simon the other day.”

His name draws up the faint memory of the masked deputy from your wedding ceremony. “I remember,” you say flatly. There’s no lost love between you and anyone involved with that sham of a wedding.

“Don’t hold that against him,” John smiles. “He’s a good ole boy. Can’t fault a man for following the boss’ orders.”

Watch me. You glance away lest he see that thought etched across your face.

The town is bustling with activity this late in the morning. Steps and floorboards creak under the weight of boots coming and going. A man going by in a horse-and-buggy whistles sharply when he cracks the reins, his horse puffing out a low, frustrated grunt.

Men hustle past you decked out in leather chaps and waistcoats, spats covering the half-boots of those not decked out in tall, spurred cowboy boots. There are far less women scampering about town than men, particularly not so close to the sheriff’s office, but you keep finding your eyes drawn to them.

John grips you under the arm and swiftly pulls you back when you narrowly sidestep a mound of horse droppings left uncovered in the middle of the road. The smell only hits you a second later.

“Well, that’s lovely,” you remark, deadpanned, putting your foot down deliberately a good distance away.

“Wouldn’t need to complain about it if you just watched your step.”

“You know, this really would’ve been a nice day to just stay home,” you mutter, chastised enough not to say something sharp in return.

While the smell makes your nose wrinkle, you have to admit that the air here is far less pungent than back home. In general, this bucolic town is far more pleasant in certain respects than the city you’d left behind in a haste.

“Where do you want me to wait for you?” you ask, turning to face him now at the front steps of the sheriff’s office.

He frowns. “Wait for me?”

“While you work, I mean. Surely you don’t mean for me to sit inside all day twiddling my thumbs while you work.”

His mustache twitches with a smile. “Thought I’d show you around first—get you acquainted with the locals.”

The idea of mingling with the townsfolk doesn’t appeal to you, but you also can’t think of a good enough reason to refuse. Especially with the curious glances already being sent your way. You duck your head to stare down at your boots when you spot a group of other women clustered together and whispering to each other, their eyes trained on you. Somehow you’ve gone from being furniture in a room to being a source of local gossip, and it’s almost hard to believe that you miss being ignored.

When you look back up at John, you find him still staring down at you, waiting patiently. Up close, the sunlight almost turns patches of his beard gold; he has a smattering of moles across his face, not the blush of freckles but rather a few dark spots by his nose. Aside from the tuft of hair under his bottom lip, his chin is mostly bare, and when he smiles, his whole face moves with it. You have to blink to snap yourself out of it.

Your upper lip curls involuntarily when you say, “So you want to help me make friends?”

“Well, seeing as I know most of ‘em, figured I’d be a help.”

“The job’s really not all that busy then, huh?” You really wish you could learn to shut your mouth, since it keeps getting you in trouble, but the barbs roll off your tongue so naturally. Luckily, it seems to amuse him now more than it did early this morning.

“Guess life isn’t as exciting ‘round here as it is back in the city, but it has its days,” John chuckles. “Now come on; I’ll give you the tour.”

For some reason, you hadn’t pictured the town being quite so big, but during your walk, you realize you’ve vastly underestimated the true size of it. Though not anywhere near as ostentatious as the cities back east, the sheer breadth of it eclipses anything from back home. It’s spread out on an incomparable scale, the mountains in the background stretching out along the horizon like the skeletal remains of a giant long since dead and decayed.

It’s not the ramshackle town you envisioned when you stepped off the train the other day, despite the wooden facades and their brightly painted signs. You almost wish you had more time just to admire the craftsmanship, but John leads you from store to store like he’s on a mission.

He seems most interested in towing you around like some prized mare, all trussed up and clean from your bath the night before. You meet so many people that their names and faces all begin to blur together. The worst offense of all is that it makes you lean on John for support, looking up at him again and again for reassurance whenever you can’t answer a question or your answer triggers a moment of awkward silence.

Those moments come aplenty too. The few people nosey enough to ask you about your life back in the city find themselves on the butt end of a cheerfully delivered lie from John. It unnerves you at first, seeing how comfortable he is with lying. He doesn’t even hesitate for a second when recounting your previous life as a schoolteacher in Connecticut prior to your engagement.

Perhaps it’s not a lie though. You don’t know the extent to which he and his original betrothed corresponded. Certainly not enough for him to suspect you of not being her, but maybe she’d spun him that story. Or maybe it had been the truth. All this time you’d thought that John had been swindled by some con artist using desperate men to fund her lifestyle, but maybe somewhere between here and Connecticut, there’s an unmarked grave with the corpse of the woman that John had intended to marry.

That makes you feel guilty somehow, like you’ve taken something not meant for you. Even if you hadn’t wanted it—in fact, been forced into taking it.

You swallow that thought when John leads you into the general store. Your eyes bug at the sight of a blonde haired woman in khaki cloth knickerbockers stocking the shelves, who turns at the sound of the door creaking open, the sharp look on her face melting away at the sight of John.

The warmth in her face infuriates you more than it should. You have no right to feel this way—or, some right, but you resent the fact that you do as well.

“Hi John,” she greets. Her voice is deeper than you anticipated, springtime crisp like a babbling brook.

“Laswell,” John greets, scooping his arm around your side until he can palm the side of your hip, dragging you in close. You stumble into him, catching yourself with a hand on his chest. Your neck and face go hot when Laswell’s eyes turn on you, curiosity glinting in them.

“Your lady finally showed up then,” she surmises. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think you made her up. Told the boys to think about forcing you into an early retirement.”

John huffs at that. His fingers tighten at your waist when Laswell says your lady, as if the words alone make it fact. Speak it into being. The metal burns against your ring finger. In a sense, it is fact, despite the subterfuge. You wonder if it would hold up in court, but out here, it’s real enough.

“Well, she’s very real, as you can tell.” He gives you a little shake with the hand on your waist. “Say hi, darlin’.”

If looks could kill, yours would be pit-viper venom. You’d leave behind a festering puncture mark and a body in the throes of envenomation. “Excuse me?”

Your attitude might come at a cost this time because he looks unamused at your back talk in front of an audience. “Darlin’.” It’s said like a warning.

You bite your tongue instead of lashing out. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kate Laswell; I own this little shop,” she says, introducing herself and stepping forward to hold out her hand. You have to step forward to take it, pulling you out of John’s arms. It feels familiar being on your own, certainly more natural than being constantly at John’s side the way you have for almost two days now. It’s also a bit cold after having John’s warmth at your back or side at all times.

There’s a moment when you realize that Kate is the first person you’ve had to introduce yourself to, John having introduced you to everyone else you’d come across. It hovers on the tip of your tongue when you realize that you could just say your real name, and you find yourself torn between setting it free and the odd fear of John’s reaction.

You chicken out at the last second, giving Kate the same name as the one John introduced you by to everyone else in town.

“He might growl like a bear, but you’ll get used to that,” she says, winking.

You frown. Awfully familiar talk for someone who isn’t his wife. Why should she know that?

You make yourself push that thought away, reminding yourself again that it doesn’t matter. It’s none of your concern.

“He’s been a gentleman,” you croak instead, smile so thin that it might as well be a grimace.

A shout from the bar across the street startles you, drawing your attention away from the conversation. John stills too. A series of raised voices puts him on alert, and then someone inside the bar must fire a gun because the violent crack of one makes you scream, the noise pulled involuntarily from your chest.

“Stay here,” John growls, his pistol already drawn. He’s out the door before you can respond, darting across the street towards the bar and shouldering the door open so hard that it rattles in its frame. You watch everything happen through the window of the general store with your heart in your throat.

“Good Lord,” you whisper, hand over your mouth. Kate stands beside you in a similar manner, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

The thought doesn’t even occur to you that now would be the perfect time to make a break for it, with John busy across the street. Your feet are rooted in place; you doubt you’d be able to take so much as a single step towards the door.

There’s precious little that you can see through the grit-lined bar windows, not as dusty and dirty as they are, but you can hear the commotion from inside. Raised voices and the sound of breaking glass. It makes you flinch, heart galloping at an even faster pace. Like harness horses on the Freehold Raceway. It’s not long before you see a large, masked man hightailing it down the road towards the bar, dust clouding around his boots with each heavy step.

You recognize him almost instantly as the man from your wedding, the one that signed your marriage license. John’s man—Simon. He nearly takes the bar door off its hinges when he throws it open, barely in there a second before he and John come out each with a man in hand, both already handcuffed and looking roughed up They drag them stumbling down the dirt road towards the sheriff’s office, Simon half-dragging another man whose white button-down is slowly saturating with red blood oozing out of a gunshot wound in his belly.

“Shouldn’t they call a doctor for that man?” you ask Kate in a frantic voice, whipping around to face her.

She nods. “They probably will once they’ve got the four of them locked up. Doctor probably heard that anyway—he’ll be on his way, I bet.”

“On his way already?”

“There’s only one doctor around here. And not much else sounds like a gunshot.”

“Does that happen a lot around here?” You don’t know why the thought makes you nervous, but there’s a cramp in your belly and a sweat building up on the back of your neck and your hands itch to grab something. When you swallow, it almost doesn’t go down.

“It’s not uncommon. I reckon it’s not something you’re used to?”

You purse your lips. “I’ve seen a dead body before.” You don’t know why that comes out so defensively, like a slight that’s been levied against you. There’s no easy way to dispel the myth in everyone’s mind that you come from a life of comfort and ease, with delicate hands fit for delicate work. You curl your hands into fists at the thought, conscious of the old scars and calluses built up over years of scrubbing and cleaning. If she were to look down, she wouldn’t see the well-kept hands of a lady.

When Kate quirks an eyebrow, you realize that your response had nothing to do with her question. “Well, look at you.”

When John and Simon disappear into the jailhouse, the door swinging shut behind them, you sway on your feet for a second, feeling oddly unbalanced. Something about the sight of the man’s blood leaves you feeling woozy, taking the chair that Kate offers you when she sees the way you rock back on your heels.

“Let me get you something to drink,” Kate offers, brows now furrowed sympathetically at the pathetic sight you must be. “I’m sure you got a little fright thinking of your husband facing down a man with a gun, but I’m afraid that comes with marrying a sheriff. There’s danger everywhere, you know.”

What you don’t say is that your lightheadedness came not just from the sight of the man with the blood leaking from a wound in his stomach, but the grim look on your husband’s face as he carted away the man responsible, eyes hard as steel. No sympathy for the man in his hands. Only another criminal to be tossed away in a jail cell. The punishment for making another man bleed.

Your hands shake in your lap, but you don’t say that. Instead, you smile weakly and take the glass of water from her hands when she comes back from filling it at the sink. “You’re right. Just a little fright.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

1K notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

Text

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven.

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

tag list <3

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @val-writesstuff @t-t-hello @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @myloveniall @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @floralwsloki @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @alesabisou @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @pedropascalsleftfoot @cremebruleequeen @ladifreakingda @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @evan-peters-wife @llamazarecoolaf @ace-27749 @hinata7346

7K notes · View notes

bookdragonideas · 18 days

Text

Here's the thing. I'm a girl, and as a girl, I really like it when girls are portrayed in fiction. Especially fantasy.

But so much fiction/fantasy mixes up 'girls' with 'unstoppable forces of female badass' and there's not necessarily anything wrong with having a character who is an 'unstoppable forces of female badass'. But it gets old real quick. And it is not the same as portraying normal girls, or having good female characters.

And that's one of the many reasons I love Avatar the Last Airbender.

Because all the girl characters have flaws and weaknesses and sometimes act like idiots or jerks. They get emotional and make mistakes. They lose fights or arguments or are just wrong sometimes. Some of them are amazing warriors, and some aren't. Some are powerful or special and some are normal, with nothing special about them.

And I Love that.

I was around the same age as Katara when I first watched Atla. And I instantly connected with her as a character. I loved her optimistic attitude and her fighting spirit. And I could relate with her anger, and with her maternal instinct. I admired her fighting skills of course, but I loved how the show portrayed her compassion and kindness, the way she could both beat up a bunch of bullies AND enjoy a relaxing day at the spa. She was a baddass warrior that should never be crossed. But she was also a normal teenage girl who had a lot of the same internal struggles and problems that I did.

(I never connected to Toph on the same level, but I did relate to her on a few things. She's an adorable trash gremlin who would commit any crime for fun and I love that. But she struggles with being both independent and letting people help her, and I still struggle with that sometimes. I've learned that sometimes, you can help others by letting them help you.)

Yue is, in my opinion, a perfect example of a type of hero that seems to be disappearing. She is not a warrior. She is not a fighter. She's not even a bender.

Yue is a perfect princess, a perfect daughter. She is extremely feminine in a rather older sense.

And she was the only one who could save the world. She gave up everything for her people. She saved everything, everyone, the entire world. Without ever becoming a fighter.

Yue is a perfect example of a girl who was never more than a girl, and how that's okay. Not every girl has to be rough and tumble and fight for her rights in order to change everything. Sometimes it's okay to just be a quiet obedient girly girl. Sometimes that's all it takes to be a hero.

And I love that. Yue is strong in her own way. She is unique and interesting. She appears in only a few episodes and yet manages to be one of my favorite characters.

Song is another great example of this. Song is a healer in a small town. We don't see much of her but we see her compassion and empathy. She is gentle and generous. A healer not a fighter.

She watches Zuko steal her ostrich horse and does nothing.

Is that because she's kind and generous and knows he needs it more? Or is it because she's a healer girl who knows she can't actually stop those two from taking the horse? Maybe neither, maybe both. I have always thought that the scene where Zuko steals the horse and only the audience knows she saw it is one of the most thought-provoking in the series.

Suki is a badass warrior woman who is an awesome fighter and good leader. She is one of the best non bender fighter we see in the entire show. She was one of the smartest, most efficient, and powerful characters we ever saw.

She kissed a boy she had just met because she thought he was cute.

Now don't get me wrong I love SokkaxSuki. Its one of the best couples in the show.

But Suki totally did the old 'love at first sight' thing. And that is awesome. Because when she kisses him she delivers one of the best lines, not only from her, but, I think, in the entire show.

"I AM a warrior, but I'm a girl too."

Being a warrior doesn't mean that she isn't also a teenage girl. She might be a fighter, but she still gets crushes and likes to flirt with cute boys. And hey, she picked a good one. Not every boy is going to come break you out of prison.

Anyways, let's have more realistic girls in fiction. And please enjoy the next 24 hours.

#bookdragonideas #atla #katara #suki #yue #princess yue #avatar the last airbender

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 5 months

Text

Light on - single mom/neighbors au Simon Riley/female reader

The hallway creaks under his feet.

The floorboards talk to him, tell him stories, narrating the tread worn in the carpet, countless steps tracked up and down, past his door at all hours of the day and night.

Past yours.

He notices your light is on when he gets in, warm yellow glow spilling out from your back door, illuminating your hunched figure perched on your little metal chair, glow from an e-reader spilling across your face. A mix of the light from your living room, the shimmer of the moon, and the white, soft incandescence of your book bathes you in a gleam of angelic color, celestial reflection of what he believes may already be half true.

Sweet angel.

“Up late?” He asks over the balcony divider, and you squint at him, eyes adjusting in the pale darkness.

“Emma’s been on a weird schedule. Couldn’t go back to sleep after I put her back down an hour ago.” His hands slide into his pockets, a natural reflex, and he nods, the movement expected against the emptiness that greets his fingers. He wants a cigarette. Craves it, but intentionally left them inside.

He doesn’t think you like it, the smoking. And for some unsettling reason, he cares what you think.

The monitor crackles alive with the sound of hoarse cry, high pitch and sharp, and you excuse yourself, slipping inside to answer Emmaline’s distraught wails.

He leans against his side of the railing, mind wandering to his schedule for tomorrow, an on base meeting that’s sure to be irritating, followed by a training evaluation that he’s been putting off for far too long.

The monitor’s lights flare, picking up noise, and his mind screams to a halt when the speaker starts to vibrate with your voice.

“Hey, little sweet. Shhh, shhh, I know. You’re such a sleepy girl, aren’t you?” You hum something, a melody of some kind that he can’t place, and Emma makes soft little noises, prompting you to talk to her every time they start to tick upwards into a cry. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Mum’s here. I’m right here.” He stands, transfixed, frozen, listening, eavesdropping, to every little sound, hanging on every word like you're feeding him crumbs of your soft, soothing voice and Emmaline’s sleepy, grumpy coos.

When you reappear back on the balcony ten minutes later, it’s with the baby against your chest, her chubby little arms and legs tucked into a blanket, wrapped up like burrito, sweet little face peeking over the fleece lining. “Someone,” you rub her back, “is not keen on going back to sleep.” She’s wide eyed, wide awake, and you step closer to his side, his hand automatically going out to rub a thumb against her cheek.

“What’s wrong, baby girl, not goin’ let mum get any rest tonight?” You smile softly, gaze sweet and gentle when it bounces between his face and hers.

“Afraid not.” You lean forward, brushing your lips against the crown her head. “She’s pretty unhappy unless she’s being held, lately.” He feels for you, can see how tough it must be, how tired you are, and a fire fueled yearning enflames throughout him, desire and desperation battling against his self-control, his logical mind.

You sigh, swaying slightly with her, trying to rock her into a sleepy state, and he’s content to stay outside with you, watching. Enjoying the way you lean into your instincts, your motherhood, soft edges complemented by sharp ones, your baby safe and slipping into a dream from your arms something that he can’t not marvel at. It doesn’t take long for her to be completely out, and you release a long sigh of relief.

“Alright, time to try again.” You whisper, and he nods, catching a whiff of your shampoo as you turn to head inside with a whisper, coconut and lavender nearly making him dizzy. “Goodnight, Simon.”

“Goodnight.”

#peaches writes #light on #Simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon Riley #simon ghost riley

2K notes · View notes

yawnderu · 6 months

Text

Perfect Life — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

The first night the baby is home, Simon is so elated, mind racing 100 miles per hour. He glances at you and the sleeping baby between both of you, afraid he would crush her in his sleep despite knowing he sleeps like a rock.

What if this time is different? What if he has a nightmare and accidentally hurts either of you? What if someone breaks in? He doesn't have nightmares as often anymore, sleeping with you helps keep them at bay and you both have a fancy security system, yet he'd never forgive himself if anything goes wrong... so he does what he does best; be a guard dog for his girls.

"I love you." He whispers to both of you, laying on his side and looking at you both as if he was examining you in a lab, your breathing pattern he memorized years ago is still the same, and now he's memorizing the one of the little girl in front of him, carving it in his brain just in case if anything is wrong, he'll be able to tell.

It's been almost two hours and Simon isn't sleeping, staying up late and having a bad sleeping pattern became a part of him after so many years serving yet this time he isn't watching an enemy or a facility they're targeting, no, he's watching something much more important. He's watching his wife cuddle the baby in her sleep, her touch delicate yet protective, just as he imagined it would be ever since he found out you were pregnant.

He moves carefully around the bed, hand grabbing his phone and turning the brightness all the way down. Simon looks at you again just to make sure you're asleep before unlocking his secure folder, the corners of his mouth tilting up when he sees the contents of the folder.

It's full of pictures and videos of you, starting back in the day the 141 was formed, until you were heavily pregnant. The latest picture was of all three of you, holding the newborn in the hospital room, happy smiles on both of your faces and pure pride in his eyes. A small chuckle escapes him when he remembers how the nurse he approached seemed scared of him until he asked if she could take a picture of him and his girls, looking around one more time to make sure you were still asleep despite being able to hear your soft snores.

I'm so proud of you. His lips curled up into a soft smile, eyes starting to sting as they did every single time he remembers how far you've come. You look so different from the first time he met you—in fact, you both do, yet you're as beautiful as ever; fresh out of the hospital, no makeup, messy hair, and a peaceful look on your sleeping face while you hold the baby.

Thank you so much. In the quietness of his room and in bed with his two girls, Simon allows the tears to escape his eyes for the first time in years. I didn't even know I could cry anymore.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead and does the same for his little girl before laying back down, an arm protectively wrapped around your waist and over the baby, setting a safe distance between him and his little girl in fear of crushing her in his sleep. With one final look at his pride and joy he drifts off to sleep, his behemoth frame used as a protective shield for both of you in case something happens. Deep inside, he knows you're all safe.

3K notes · View notes

irndad · 9 months

Note

Hi hun! I just love love love your pieces <3

As for Carmy prompts - could we have some hurt to comfort when Carmen doesn't show up for a date? It's ok if you dont wanna do it or i requested incorrectly, but if you do, i cant wait to read!!!!! Thank you so much mwah mwah mwah

I’m not thaaaaaat sure how I feel about this and it’s so long but your request was so sweet I had to!!! Ily <3333

wc:1.1k

There’s so fucking much in his ear. Fak’s screaming whatever bullshit he’s sure will help absolutely nothing, Richie’s harassing Sydney and Tina’s trying to keep them all in line and will of that goddamn chaos, he shouldn’t be able to make out anything.

Prepping this whole thing, the opening, Richie biting his head off for fucking sending him to the best kitchen in the city- it’s all a bit fucking much.

He barely hears the door open (she has a key, because of course she does) and he doesn’t even look over his shoulder as he calls out her name.

“Hey, baby,” he yells back towards the entrance. It feels good, chopping the vegetables. It’s actually one of her favorite dishes that he’s making, and something inside him preens that he gets to feed her tonight. Everything feels illustrious under her gaze. He remembers the first time he’d cooked for her, how her watchful gaze felt a bit like sunlight; equal parts burning and doused in light.

She’d said she liked his hands, then. Said he looked pretty with a knife and a cutting board. “Will you try this sauce for me?”

He hears her heels click, the soft thud of her purse landing on the couch. It’s a slow saunter she does to him, but he’s razor focused- what does it need, garlic? Oregano?

It only breaks when he sees her. And she looks gorgeous. Wearing a black dress with a cowl neck, shimmery eyeshadow that catches and dances in the low light of the kitchen, a crimson lipstick neatly applied to her beautiful pout.

She smells like vanilla, and Carmen has the privilege of knowing what real, rich, Madagascar vanilla smells like. He’d loved the scent so much that he’d bought her a perfume made from it, and there’s a warmth blooming in his chest when he realizes that she’s wearing it.

Wordlessly, she opens her mouth and leans forward to try the sauce covered wooden spoon he’d raised to her lips.

Even when she’s in front of him, he can’t believe she’s someone he knows. That she’s wasting her time with someone like him.

“Jesus Christ you look beautiful,” he says without thinking, and he kisses her quick. It’s true. She’s a vision, plucked out of an old movie shot on grainy film, warm to the touch film.

He abandons the spoon and the sauce without much fanfare, a rough, calloused hand meeting her soft warm cheek.

“Thanks, Carmen.” she says, but her doe-eyes deny the joy she typically exudes in his presence. It’s his proudest achievement, how she glows around him. She’s tight lipped, smile betraying her words.

“What’s wrong? Is it the sauce? I know it’s a mess in here, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d see it-“

“No! No, seriously, it’s okay, honey.” She tries to insist but it really doesn’t work. He moves the pot off the burner and twists himself completely to face her, placing a gentle hand at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He tries not to let it sting, how she stiffens for a moment before softening again.

“What happened?” He asks again.

“It’s the first,” she says, a rueful grin on her pretty lips, before gesturing down at her outfit, and oh.

The dinner. The fucking dinner that he’d promised her. His sweet girl, who waited up every night, who dutifully tasted every recipe, who soothed him on nights where nightmares stole his sleep-

“Fuck,” he says, more to himself than her, but god, he can’t stop looking at her, “Fuck! God, I’m such an asshole, I’m so sorry-“ he insists, suddenly so grateful that she’s letting him touch her, even more aware of every point of contact with the sudden fear that it could escape in a moment’s notice.

“Y’know, Carm, if you could’ve just told me that would’ve been one thing? But I left the reservation, and this was the one night we both had off!”

“I know, baby, fuck, I forgot-“

She backs away from him, and there’s a sick feeling in his stomach. Sitting on the chair he keeps by the stove (he put it there for her, because she loved watching him) she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“It’s just not fair, Carm. To either of us. If you don’t have time for this-“

“I have time for this! I have time. Don’t say things like that.”

“Carmy, I’m not trying to hurt you. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

And it is. It’s the last thing she wants, and Carmen fucking knows it. Knows that three months in he’s supposed to have brought her flowers and taken her out and done more than cook for her and spend hours in his shitty apartment, and lately she’s been asking if he has time for being in a relationship.

And maybe he doesn’t, but fuck it if he doesn’t feel like he can breathe around her. This was the point of the dinner- take her out, be a boyfriend. Have her wait a little while on him. Show her he’s worth it.

Instead he fucking missed it, stayed home and made sauce no one would even eat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing her hand and lacing it through his own. It always shocks him, how it fits his own. “Okay? I’m so, so fuckin’ sorry. Tell me what I can do. Tell me, cos I’ll do just about fuckin’ anything to get you to stop saying shit like that.”

Her voice comes out small.

“I was alone, Carm. They kept trying to take my order and you weren’t there, and eventually I had to leave.“

She looks up at him, eyes sparkling and kind and Carmen. She looks beautiful, and if he wasn’t with her, he’d see her in the street and hate whatever fuck was lucky enough to be who she got dressed up for.

“I am so, so sorry. It’s just with the stove, and Fak, and Richie fucking calling me to bitch me out every thirty seconds,” she reaches her delicate fingers to brush his cheek with concern, “I should’ve remembered. It’s just about the only thing this week worth remembering. And you look…stunning, I should’ve been there. I should’ve. Please.”

Her expression softens and he loves the sight of her, warm and kind and lovely in both form and temperance. She’s so patient with him, responds with kindness- a gift.

She brushes her soft lips on his cheek and he tries to savor the sensation, note how warm and wonderful it is to have her form pressed against his, how her arms knot themselves around his waist.

“I know you’re stressed, babe,” she murmurs against his cheek, eyes shut, “tell you what. Why don’t you make me something better than what that place could’ve, huh?”

After he kisses her for so long that excess is no longer the right terminology, he makes her the best pasta she’s ever had in her goddamn life.

It’s better this way, anyway. She’s gorgeous in a way that’s just his to look at tonight.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x You #carmy berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear x reader

4K notes · View notes