#I wasn't going to make a post about this until my friend who's partially responsible for the breakage said they were going to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meorb · 7 months

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HIII i found u through the graves tag>:) can i get some graves x gender neutral reader nsfw. go crazy you choose whatever whether it's dark or not!!

I literally love Phillip Graves ugh 🫶 it's kinda short, but I hope you like it!

Warnings: NSFW obviously, gender neutral character being (implied) forced into a housewife role, Phillip Graves is not a sex god, dont sex him, he ignores protests but no one seems to care 👍

You were never really a marriage person. You went to weddings you were invited to and you liked the posts you saw of friend's weddings, but you never pictured one yourself. But now sat that pretty little band on your left ring finger, a dull ache filling you as you looked at it. If you knew he was going to propose so quick, you would have ran.

The scent of food and lemon soap filled the house as you stood over the counter, humming as you wiped and dried the marble. It was your place, after all. Phil worked, managed an entire company, and you got to stay home and cook. Not that you really had a problem with that, you hadn't even gone to college, so this life would've been way more comfortable than what you could've lived without him. You were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't even notice Phil coming in the front door. You let out a yelp as his hands fell on your waist, and he instinctively covered your mouth, letting out a breath into your neck as he slowly pulled his hand off your mouth.

"Fuck, Phil..." He lets out a whine onto your skin in response, pressing a soft kiss to your neck and slipping his hand under your shirt to rub his fingers over your skin.

"Something as cute as you shouldn't be saying things like that," he murmured, letting out a low growl and lifting you up, laying you face down on the counter. He plays with your waistband, pulling it down partially until you looked back to stop him.

"Not now. Dinner will be done soon." He always wanted you at the worst times, and he wasn't seeming to care about your protest as he pulled your pants the rest of the way down your thighs, a cold finger pressing against your hole and pushing against it, making you let out a small whine.

"You know who's in control here, darlin'..." His lips were warm against your neck, contrasting to the cold finger slowly pressing farther into you, making you flush and press more against the counter. He pulled your shirt up with his free hand, pressing messy kisses to your spine.

"Pretty little thing..." he murmured against your skin, slipping another finger in you, and when you try and struggle again to get back to cooking, he curls his fingers, making you scrape your nails against the counter as he pressed against your g-spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You cried out, putting one hand over your mouth, which he abruptly pulled away.

"Fuck, Phil!" You groan, feeling him pull his fingers out of you and unzip his pants, the sound of his zipper being the only warning before his sticky tip rubbed against your hole, teasing you even though his wet kisses on your back clearly meant he was the desperate one.

"I love you. You know that, right? You know I'm never gonna let anyone touch you except for me. You're mine. My pretty little cook," his voice is low and scratchy, and he groans, no, moans, as he pushes into you, his hard cock scraping against your insides as he pulls back and lurches forward, your body hitting against the hard countertop. It hurt, but he didn't care. You were his to take. It's what you agreed to when you married him. Even if you had only been married for a couple weeks. He quickly starts to desperately rut against you, pants and grunts spilling lewdly from his mouth, the sound mixing with yours as you whimper from the pain of the counter and the filling feeling of his cock in you. The familiar building feeling in your stomach continues, even after the oven beeps to signal the food is done. His thrusts get sloppy and desperate, and he moans lowly as he feels you clench down on him.

"Fuck... c'mon baby, c'mon baby," his tone is high and quiet, his hips desperate as he kisses your spine, then bites down on the flesh, filling you as he cums and holds you on his cock for a second, then pulls out. He puts his cock away, completely oblivious or otherwise indifferent to the fact he had just stopped right before you finished. He pulls you off of the counter and sits you on your shaky legs, sniffing the air and grumbling at the new, burnt smell coming from the oven. He peeks into the oven, your pants still down around your thighs as he turns to you.

"You should probably remake that," he mumbles, looking at the burnt bread in the oven. Of course you should. It was your place. That's what you agreed to when you put that pretty little band on, huh? :)

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #phillip graves x reader #gn reader #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x gn!reader #phillip graves x gn!reader #meorb

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yuusaris · 6 months

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Life Update

My ~*Partial Hospitalization Program*~ is over!

TW: cat death, suicidal ideation

To the people who were able to help support me and my family financially for the bit - y'all honest to God got us to my paycheck without a single sweat. It was like breathing fresh air - disability hasn't come in yet and it was a daunting looking week. It was really, truly helpful, every dollar counted, every charge got paid without negatives.

Soooo part of the reason for my program happening - there were a lot of reasons that compounded over the year so far. Y'all might know we lost Hammond at the very beginning of the year, but what wasn't mentioned was that I have a hefty blame on myself for what happened, and I'm not going into details on it. I had a messy falling out with a very dear friend and my bankruptcy filing has not started yet because it's daunting in the face of grief. We also lost our second source of income this year (another falling out and another death), we lost another family member, my job ended up hefting more responsibilities onto me as well as the ones I had gotten away with neglecting and through all of it, I socialized with exactly zero people, zero times about it.

I don't have a family that's very... emotionally intelligent? Problems are met with solutions and pick-me-ups, not with empathy so, it wasn't like I was comfortable speaking with them - my dad distinctly said my suicidal ideations were 'selfish' and we are not on speaking terms at the moment because of it.

I vented to a friend or two, once or twice, but it always came with the idea that I was burdening someone. This perception of myself as a social parasite, draining what I want and leaving people dry, is one that kept me from talking to people I regarded as friends and also kept me from thinking well of myself in public - I realized in my PHP that I attribute my value to the interactions I have with people. Strangers, family, friends, cashiers. If it's a person, they determine my value. So I try to net a positive value as much as I can. Which means "not using people for my own comfort or assurance or entertainment" - the aware people reading this may recognize that as 'an attribute of friendship that friends are there for'. I still haven't gotten around to talking to some of my online friends yet and - I don't have many in real life. I work from home, and left my home state in 2019 to be with my husband and his family, it felt a lot like they were tolerating me because of him. Even though I knew they weren't.

I don't really have any hobbies that aren't something to show off either - I write fic for me, but I haven't posted anything all year because I've had so little investment in my productive hobbies... of which writing is the only one. And when I don't have that I have video games until my eyeballs bleed.

I'm writing this all out to both shake myself of the idea that this is me infodumping in order to "manipulate you all into giving money in the future" (I'm aware I'm not, and I am not), or "make people say nice things about me while I do nothing for them to soothe my ego" (I can want validation/nice things said that make me feel good without treatijng people badly or it being about my value) or "just wanna read my own writing voice" (There's also just - nothing wrong with that??) or any other bad things.

It's just... my blog and my journey and I wanted to level with the people who care about me here about what's been going on and where I'm at and that... I dunno. That I'm a work in progress? And everyone is? And asking for help regardless of from who or what is different from mooching off people because the intent and the care for those people is entirely different and if you're really a burden, they wouldn't help you and I need to get it in my head that I'm just - allowed to talk to people about things that are wrong or sad or just even ask if even online peeps like y'all wanna do online stuff is still - social and allowed to be asked from me and not just of me and - lots of stuff.

And I'm allowed to do things on my own and talk to new people without feeling like a weirdo and a wretch cuz I'm not a weirdo and a wretch and typing and posting that this is how I feel is not guilt-tripping nor is it infodumping because it's my blog and my negative thoughts that aren't true. And I'm allowed to say they're not.

....

I'm gunna be doing an Intensive Outpatient Program starting tomorrow - it's similar, but shorter and less days of the week. By the time I start, disability should kick in, and I might even be able to apply for disability for the work hours I miss. I'll be looking into that on Monday.

In the meantime - I'm making Magic: The Dathering decks again! I'm gunna try to start an indoor garden - I'm embracing possibly becoming a Green Witch, but it's hard to find witchcraft stuff that doesn't refer to God or Goddesses - and deity-on-a-level-above-me worship, I've learned, is... pretty triggering for me, regarding practicing faith. We also got - so, in January, we got our baby Jungle, and in April we got Sandy and Sandy's training to be our ESA, and I wanna talm to taylor about if I can post pictures but the point is, I am a cat mama again, and they make me feel worthwhile in a way that's not about my value but is about my feeling fulfilled.

So - things are looking up! I'm going to more library programs as well, visiting old haunts and getting back into socializing outside but also - maybe online spaces soon as well. Becoming a person again, y'know?

Really - thank everyone, bumpers and likers and doners, for everything. It meant a lot to be able to ask for help and get it and know that I can just... ask people for things, not even money, just.... for help.

Thanks.

#me flavored soup #tw suicide mention #tw suicide ideation #tw animal death mention #tw animal death #y'know i promised myself i wouldn't cry on my own post but then i remembered that's part of what put me in a PHP program #you'd be surprised how many jokes do not fly anymore when you're trying to be emotionally and mentally healthy

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starcastlesinthesky · 2 months

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Lost Opportunities

I used to work at a casino, in the count room, for almost 6 years. I made friendly acquaintances with my coworkers, as I tend to do. However, I truly bonded with one person more than others. Partially because he was the only one that didn't get on my nerves all the time.

We bonded like hell over music and movies and politics. He was also married with two kids. I was in a relationship with my now husband for almost 5 years at that point. My friend was in a hostage marriage. When I say that, I mean that they got married because she gave him an ultimatum. That ultimatum was marriage or him losing his kids. His wife is half Native, makes his kids 1/4 Native, and they would give preference to her. Since the birth of his oldest son, she moved in with him, and he told her she could be a SAHM. He didn't mind, but over time, it became hard for him to be the only one bringing income into the house. She did periodically work different jobs in the almost six years I was working at the casino, even working at the casino briefly.

While she was exclusively at home, she regularly slept with other guys. And of course, she would threaten my friend if he told her she couldn't do it. Eventually, he got fed up with that, and started seeing someone outside of their marriage. I had told him that it was bullshit that she was allowed to do that, but not him. Obviously, she was incensed about him daring to do that.

When she was working at the casino, someone told her rumors that he and I were sleeping together. The other younger woman we worked with was also implicated as well. I was angry, and so was he.

Then the pandemic happened, and I was one of a few hundred people that got laid off. In the end, it's good that I didn't end up going back.

In May of 2020, I posted a link to a favorite song of mine on FB, and I tagged him, as he had been the one to introduce me to this band. She had seen it, and had messaged me about "do I know he's married" and other similar things. I never saw it because it was in my hidden messages -- from folks I don't know. I didn't see it until about a few months later, and when I went to respond to her that I wasn't seeing her husband or talking to him like that, that we were just friends and former coworkers, she had blocked me. Was kind of mad I didn't get a chance to explain that there wasn't anything going on. But she apparently knew exactly who I was, thanks to the person that was spreading lies about me at the casino.

My then boyfriend messaged her for me, and the beginning of her response was something along the lines of "It's so nice that she has two men willing to stand up for her."

I'll also say that we never chatted outside of work, texting or otherwise. We would tag each other in memes and music posts on FB. That's it.

Then I realized I hadn't seen anything from him in a while. I found out from another former coworker, who still works at the casino, that he stopped being friendly with everyone. So I just went ahead and unfriended him.

He and I really got close as friends in the last year I worked there, and I'm angry that we couldn't continue our friendship. And pretty damn hurt about it. My husband always understood that we were just friends. From what I understand about him now, he doesn't do anything outside of work and home without his wife and sons, and I am still so worried for him. I honestly hope that when his second son graduates high school that he'll file for divorce. That's not a life he deserves.

He did briefly consider getting a divorce, but the problem is that there would be no one with his sons, and his current supervisor job at the casino would not be conducive to raising kids on his own.

For his sake and his sons', I hope he decides to find a better job and divorces his wife.

I just miss the hell out of him, and it was nice having a friend that I actually made organically, rather than online.

#i just miss my friend

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jbreenr · 3 years

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Déjà Vu –Bucky Barnes.

Summary: You and Bucky keep having those kinds of encounters and none of you know how.

Warning: poorly written smut (if you're under 18 please, don't read), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), alcohol, a bit of swearing, i think that's it.

Word count: almost 4k.

A/N: so, this is the first imagine i post here and it also is the first one in english (not my first language) so don't be too hard on me, i tried my best. lack of vocabulary, grammatical and orthography mistakes are all my fault. corrections, feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Inspired by Déjà Vu –Voilà.

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

You weren't sure how it happened, let alone how it all started, but here you were, legs tangled in bed sheets that were not yours, head resting on a pillow that was not yours, the air smelling like a cologne that certainly was not yours, and a strong and now partially warm metal arm wrapped around your waist.

Trying to turn to face the owner of said arm seemed to be the most difficult mission you ever had due to the buzz in your head that made you stop for a second so the room would stop spinning before your eyes.

You knew the headache was going to be bad, except you did not think this bad.

The first clear memory of last night popping in your head: you asking Sam to hand you the fifty dollars of the bet. Of course you were able to drink all those shots and stay on your feet for the rest of the party.

It had started boring as usual. Not that the music was bad or too low, but the fact that you had to attend every single party Tony hosted should be considered torture. You only wanted to go to bed, for God's sake!

The dance floor was full of people, the sofas were all occupied and the bar was not the exception; two bartenders were not enough to keep everyone happy with a drink on their hand.

Still, you managed to have one the whole time you were there and by the time you were taking your ninth shot, you started to feel a little dizzy. Maybe, it was the way you sat up too fast and turned on your heels with a specific destination: the improvised dance floor.

If you were staying, at least you'd make sure it was worth it.

Taking Sam's hand (the one that was not filling your cup with tequila again) and putting the money inside your bra, you tried to guide him to the center of the dance floor but, considering the big amount of people trying to do the same, you decided you'd be dancing somewhere near the sofas where Steve and Nat were sitting, talking.

Your dance moves were all innocent, even ridiculous; arms and hips moving to the beat of the song in a synchronized rhythm, changing your weight from foot to foot slightly to give the illusion of a real choreography, Sam doing the same in front of you.

Laughing at your own movements, you jumped turning to the left, trying to recreate La Macarena –or your version of it– when you saw him.

Dark long hair tied up in a small ponytail brushing the back of his neck, a pair of shorter locks falling to the sides of his face, framing it perfectly; black suit trousers so tight on his legs that you were sure they were going to break at any moment; light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up his elbows, making him look thicker than usual; vibrant blue eyes sparking like reflectors from where he was sitting; flesh hand playing with a glass of what seemed to be whiskey; vibranium arm with thin golden lines caressing a blonde's tight…

You snapped out of your trance only to evaporate the sweat in your body with the rush of hot anger that ran all the way from your toes to your ears.

Why were you angry? You had no idea. You only knew that it was unacceptable. He could not do that. Not in front of you.

It was until you took a wrong step back almost falling on your ass that you noticed you had stopped dancing. Sam's hand wrapped around your arm to keep you from actually falling. Steadying yourself, you cursed yourself for listening to Nat when she said that you'd look amazing in those high heels. Who would pay attention to your shoes when you were wearing a freaking black strapless dress that did little to cover your body?

The answer was looking right at you, sitting in an armchair next to that beautiful woman, who was talking about something he had lost interest moments ago when his eyes finally met your figure from a far, now traveling down your legs to lock his gaze on your heels.

Even from where you were standing you could see his jaw clenching and his hand forming a fist, the hand that was not tapping the blonde's leg. His drink, now forgotten on the table in front of him.

“You alright?” Sam's question was followed by his hand leaving your arm. You turned to him.

That's when you had the idea. Probably, the worst and best idea you had ever had.

“Yeah,” you said nodding. “We were in the middle of something, right?” The innocent look you gave him made him follow the game.

“We were, indeed.”

“Let's keep doing it, then.” The smirk on your lips, making Sam raise his right eyebrow in confusion.

And it felt as if the universe wanted it to happen, as if the Gods wanted to know what was next because just as you turned again, softly slamming your back to Sam's chest and started swinging your hips against him, the electronic music changed to a song you knew would help you with what you had planned.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Sam's laughter rumbled in your ear as you swayed.

“Just dance, Falcon. Have some fun.”

Raising your arms, you gave him permission to place his hands on your hips, which he did hesitant at first. But when he understood (or at least, he thought) that you were only enjoying the music, his grip on you became stronger and more confident. After all, most people around you were dancing the same way.

Opening your eyes, you tried to find the super soldier but in vain. The sofa he and his friend had been sitting on was now occupied by other people and you could only imagine one reason.

The song was coming to an end and you turned again to face Sam, who was smiling at you.

“It was a pleasure to dance with you, but right now, I need to go dust my nose.” You said in a false cordial voice and bowed with exaggeration, placing your hand in the cleavage of your dress.

“Those drinks are making their work already? Ouch!” he complained when you hit him in the shoulder. “The pleasure was mine.” He bowed back and walked to the other side of the dance floor, easily finding another partner to spend the rest of the party with.

You didn't need to go to the bathroom. Not really. That was only the excuse you gave to finally head to your room and take off that dress and heels that were killing you.

You hadn't taken three steps out of the party when you felt a hand close on your arm and drag you up the stairs.

In all honesty, if his grip wasn't that firm, you could have fallen on your knees more than once on your way to where the bedrooms were.

Only when the door was closed behind you was when you noticed you were not in your room. The bed was perfectly done and the nightstand didn't have your current reading on it. You were in Bucky's room.

Blurry memories of previous visits filled your head like flashing lights: your hands tightly clutched around the headboard, your feet slipping from the edge of the bed, your back pressed against the wall, your knees and elbows buried in the mattress. It felt like you'd been there a thousand times before.

Bucky wandered around the room like a lion inside a jail, his steps heavy against the floor and his hands trying to pull back the hair tickling his cheeks.

With a loud sigh, he finally turned and almost ran in your direction. The look in his eyes was something you've seen somewhere before.

“Wha-- what the fuck you think you were doing back there?” His question took you by surprise, even though it shouldn't have. It had been your main goal all the time.

“'Doing' what? What do you mean?” You decided that playing dumb was the best way to get on his nerves and apparently, it was working.

The super soldier bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep his composure. He was not having any of it.

“Don't try and act all innocent, as if you didn't know you were practically offering yourself to Sam with that stupid dance of yours.”

“I'm surprised you even noticed,” Taking a step ahead, you shortened the distance between you two. You knew he wouldn't find you intimidating, but at least he'd know you weren't afraid of him. “when you were too busy lifting the little skirt of that girl up her legs.”

His eyes darkened and he took a step closer, his face staying only a few inches from yours.

“'Little skirt', uh? What about this pathetic attempt of a dress?” His hands traveled from the sides of your breasts to your hips and stopped at the hem of the dress (that was too short for your liking, but you weren't going to tell him so).

“Sam seemed to like it.”

Faster than you thought was possible, he gripped the hem and drew you towards him, making your smaller form crash against him, your lips barely touching his while he leaned to be at your height.

“Do I look like I care about what he likes? Not even you care about it.” His grip on the dress had softened unconsciously. “I know all you wanted to do was to make me all bothered, except you did not think I'd fix that with someone else, someone better.”

With all your strength, you pushed him back by his chest –which only caused him to take three steps back of pure shock– and your right hand landed on his face with a SMACK!

If his eyes were dark before, now they were on fire. Anger and something else that you couldn't decipher radiated from his pupils.

“Fuck you, Barnes.” Your voice, nothing but poison.

Bucky started to shorten the distance again and you didn't know what to expect: Him yelling at you? A punch? Both? Either way, you were prepared for anything.

Or so you thought.

His metal hand took you by the waist pressing your bodies together and his flesh hand traveled to the back of your head to push your face to his in a hungry kiss.

At first, you were surprised. That was not the kind of smack you were wanting for. Not that you were complaining.

His tongue wanted to make its way inside your mouth but you wouldn't open it, so he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you whine at the feeling and finally parting your lips just enough for him to do as he pleased.

You tried to resist, how much you wanted to but oh, if it was impossible. So you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

The familiar sensation in your lower belly and the way your legs trembled told you that you were fucked and before you knew it, you were gasping for air. Seemingly, you had forgotten how to breathe while Bucky's lips devoured yours in such a feral way.

With a quick movement, Bucky let go of your hip and hair and his hands went directly to the back of your thighs, indicating you to jump and cross your feet on his lower back, which you did gracefully despite the amount of alcohol in your system.

At no point your lips separated, not that any of your wanted them to.

Your hands intertwined in the back of his neck and pulled his hair softly making him groan in your mouth. It was not difficult to get rid of the hair tie, and once it was gone, Bucky's hair fell to the sides, brushing your face.

Bucky moved to the bed and sat on it, keeping you on his lap, straddling him. His hands moved all along your legs, just the way you imagined he did with his friendly friend back in the party and your blood boiled.

Pulling his hair again, but with more strength this time, you separated his face from yours, looking into his eyes with what he interpreted as disgust.

“Really think that Barbie is better than me?” you asked, your heavy breathing causing your breast to rise ang go down rapidly.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying the view of you asking such a thing. “You know I don't, doll. Just gotta make sure you don't forget I'm better than him.”

Having said that, the sound of a zipper opening was audible and soon the cold air of the room hit your back.

You recognized the feeling of Bucky's hands traveling from your thighs to your waist under the dress, to end up pulling it off of your body and tossing it across the room. It, falling right in the same spot they always did. Your lips, only separated when you rose your arms to take off the dress.

It was Bucky's turn to pull away, eyes glued to your bra. Its intense red color was driving him crazy, but not as much as the thong, which was far from being a proper piece of underwear, covering your drenching cunt.

With a quick movement, Bucky undid your bra, letting it fall past the bed with the fifty dollars slipping right after. And as if you didn't feel too exposed already, his hands ripped the thin sides of your remaining clothing, dragging it from behind, causing the fabric to rub against your clit roughly. You closed your eyes when a moan escaped your lips.

The sound of the fabric tearing apart bringing a memory of that night you were feeling waisted.

“Hey! Those were my favorite!” you had said right after he ripped your baby pink lace panties.

“Not anymore.”

Bucky's lips traveled from your jaw to your neck, finding that spot that had you trembling in his lap.

Deciding he was wearing too much clothes, your hands found their way from his still covered shoulders to his chest, looking for the first button, willing to unfasten it but once you realized it was going to be a more difficult task than you had expected, you decided to give him a payback for what he did a few weeks before.

Grabbing the shirt tightly, you pulled it, causing the buttons to fly out in all directions, clacking against the walls and floor.

“Are you kidding?” Bucky's mouth was no longer on you. “It was really expensive!” His eyes, telling you he wasn't lying. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Not anymore.”

A knowing look took over his face. He also remembered.

“Nice one, doll. Let's see what else we can reprise from that day.”

Taking you by your ass and making you gasp, he stood up and turned to the bed, throwing you into the center of the soft mattress the second he was fully facing it. You felt small compared to him, his big frame taking off the now useless shirt obstructing the view of the rest of the room for you.

Watching him undo his belt and pushing down his pants and boxers at the same time was too much for you to witness. You closed your legs trying to relieve the sensation between them.

“No, doll. Don't do that, that's why I'm here.”

His palms massaged your ankles, both flesh and metal hands cold, taking off your heels.

His delicate touch was killing you, you wanted him to go higher, to go faster, to touch you where you needed him the most.

And it was as if he read your mind. His face lowered to rub his nose against your left leg, placing a kiss in your ankle and traveling up your thigh with his chin rubbing your skin. His facial hair tickled you but you didn't mind. You liked the feeling.

His face was at the height of your core and he knew by the way you buckled your hips that you were soaked. He didn't need to check to be sure, he could smell it.

Wet kisses and purple hickeys adorned your stomach by the time his mouth reached your breasts. One, he massaged with his metal hand, the coldness provoking goosebumps to run all over your body. The other was being attacked by his tongue and sucking lips.

When his teeth bit your nipple, your back arched and one of your legs slightly raised having minimal contact with Bucky's hard dick. The pressure of your chest against Bucky's mouth, muffled a groan coming from his throat.

With a soft pop he released your tit. “You know?” he asked, opening your legs and positioning himself between them. “As much as I'd love to take my sweet time with you, I can't wait to fuck you into oblivion.”

His tip was leaking precum already, you swore you saw his member twitch the second you bit your lower lip.

He started teasing you, rubbing his shaft from your entrance to your clit repeatedly, coating himself with your juices.

“For God's sake, Barnes, just do it!”

That was everything he needed to hear to finally enter you, stretching you out with his hardness without any warning.

A loud scream was swallowed by Bucky's lips when he leaned to kiss you. Tongues fighting for dominance in a heated battle.

His vibranium hand had yours pinned above your head, immobilizing them and keeping you from moving, from touching him. Flesh hand next to your head, preventing his full weight from crashing you.

Seconds passed until he felt your body adapting and accepting the new intruder, that's when he began to move, a slow pace at first, it felt like he wanted to make sure you were really there, too caught up in the painful pleasure he was feeling.

He separated from your face, enjoying the moment, you were just fascinated looking at his expression.

When a particular deep trust hit your g spot, the moan that left your mouth brought Bucky back to reality. His eyes opened in a snap and what you saw in them made you want to run away from that room and to stay under him forever at the same time.

Lust and hunger danced on his eyes, fire and need distilling from his pores.

The concentration look in Bucky's face gave you the second best idea of the night.

“C'mon, Barnes.” Containing a cry, you murmured. “I know you can do better.” Saying that you knew was more of an affirmation than a comment in the heat of the moment.

An arrogant smile drawn on Bucky's lips was followed by him quickening his pace. His now warm metal hand let go of yours to take control over your hips that were bucking up to meet his, accompanied with the hoarse sounds coming out of your mouth. He pinned you down with his fingers buried in your flesh, surely leaving some dark bruises to remember his excellent performance.

One of your hands flew back, trying to hold onto something for dear life while the other scratched, with black painted nails, Bucky's back. Meanwhile, he kept pounding you harder with each trust.

“You like it, baby girl? Bet Sam can't do it as good.” His words were dry, forcefully said along with one of his hands finding you where your bodies connected and pressing your clit roughly to prove a point.

It was talking all of you to find a coherent sentence to give as an answer. The way his body slammed yours, creating a delicious clapping sound, having your full attention.

“Wouldn't be so sure about that.” You almost whispered in a voice you didn't recognize as yours.

“Really?” One particular deep trust hit that sweet spot again making you arch your back and clench around him. A high pitched sound leaving your lips and a low groan leaving his. “Cause, from where I see it, it is me who's giving you the time of your life.”

He repeated the action again and again. Your breasts bounced up every time your bodies collided.

“Fuck.” Bucky's lips kissed your shoulder, his breath made you shiver and the feeling of his teeth grazing your hot skin causing a new memory to pop in your brain.

“God, you're perfect.” His hands squished your butt cheeks and moved you up and down to keep you riding him.

“Is that what you say to all the girls you get laid with?” You rolled your hips, challenging him to tell you.

“I've only said that to you, doll.” His words muffled in your neck followed by an assault of bites and dark marks.

He resumed the movement of his fingers against your clit, faster and applying more pressure this time.

“Ugh, just like that, yeeees!” A single tear of ecstasy fell from your eye, ruining the white pillowcase with the smallest stain of eyeliner.

As pleasure took over your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your mouth parted and let a sinful groan fall from it when your orgasm finally hit you.

“Yes, baby girl, cum for me.”

Your clenching walls enveloped him so tight that his movements faltered for a second. He quickened the pace, riding you out of your release and spilling inside you, coating you with his seed.

An experimental trust before he pulled out of you made you cry out. Both your juices and his cum dripping in the now ruined bed.

Bucky rolled to his side and pulled you closer to him, embracing you in a hug. Your breathing, slowly returning to normal.

“Damn, we're gonna regret this in the morning.” You affirmed half asleep, resting your head on Bucky's chest.

Your head position didn't let you see Bucky's sad smile. “Yeah, we will.”

Once you turned your whole body to Bucky you couldn't hide the confused look that took over your face. You didn't remember how you got there, let alone why you were there. Why was it happening to you again?

Watching him like that, so peaceful, it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do.

“My God, Barnes, let go of me!” you said loud enough to make him open a lazy eye trying to focus on you, the sound of your own voice increasing the pain in your head.

“What are you doing here?” His raspy voice did things to you in ways it shouldn't.

“That's an excellent question. I'd like to know the answer too.”

He sat, the sheet falling from his shoulders to where his public hair started. Immediately, you turned to the ceiling.

“Last thing I remember is you dancing that silly Friends routine with Sam and then… a smell of coconut.” That was the scent of your body wash.

You knew you were naked, except your brain didn't process what that meant until then.

“Ugh, not again.” You covered your face with your hands, trying to keep the sheets at the height of your chest with your arms to cover it as much as possible. “This can't keep happening.”

“Why not?” His question was followed by a yawning. “It is always good to wake up to your back pressed against me.”

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