Honey, There's People That Are Dying

The scenes in Daredevil S3 where Matt pretends to be sighted is truly an absolute masterclass and nuanced acting display by Charlie.

Particularly in this scene, where you see Matt's discernible effort to conduct himself like a sighted person would do, especially through the head movements and a more marked eye movement. When he talks he projects his head forward to compensate for his eyes still not quite landing proper eye contact. That's why his whole "sighted act" seems off compared to an actual sighted person.

+ these ones where he outrightly faces the person (normally he would not be facing people straight-up like this) but the eyes still don't hit the mark.

Takes a whole lot of self-control to be able to able to pull this "acting like a blind person pretending to be sighted" performance off but Charlie does it so so greatly. And to think he never got any type of award for this season, let alone a nomination :(

I’M LOSING MY FUCKING MIND?! 😩

Them ...

Andrew Garfield: “To heal the most traumatic moment of his own life through doing it for his younger brother. Making sure that he didn’t have the same fate, there’s something cosmically beautiful about that. It meant getting a second chance at saving Gwen.”

SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME (2021) dir. Jon Watts Screenplay by Chris McKenna & Erik Sommers

Andrew Garfield as Spiderman #2: 

Harrychella  2022

kiss sick | sirius black x reader 

summary sirius black takes your virginity

warnings nsfw (18+ please) shy!reader, fem!reader, p in v sex, oral fem receiving, idiots in love, praise kink, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader [word count: 2.6k]

<3

"Just… lie back," Sirius says tiredly.

"Are you frustrated with me?" you ask him, giggles fading as you lay down in the middle of his plump sheets. His bed is soft and squishy, smelling of sandalwood and something heavier, maybe cedar. 

"I'm not," he reassures you. 

"You seem mad." 

He laughs, gently nudging your legs apart to lie on top of you. His elbows rest either side of your chest, hand coming up to stroke the small baby hairs near your hairline.

"I'm not mad," he says, words warm and quiet. "You keep laughing at me when I'm trying to seduce you, wounding my manhood permanently and indiscriminately. But," he dips down, giving you a heart skipping smile, "I'm not mad." 

"This is a seduction?" you ask, half-hopeful.

He pauses. His words are very careful. "No, not if you don't want it to be." 

His hair tickles your face and you giggle. When he notices he aims to do it again, and only stops when you say through your quiet laughter, "And if I want it to be?" 

Which is how you end up kiss sick and sweaty with your t-shirt missing, red-purple crescent moons bitten into your neck and chest. Sirius sits, cheeks flushed, with your legs in his laps, your trousers at your ankles. He pulls them off and shoves them away, running his hands up and down your calves after he's done. 

"How do you feel, doll?" he asks, dipping down to kiss your naked kneecap.

Slightly overwhelmed. Sweaty. Kind of sticky. "Is this gonna be messy?" you ask quietly. 

He smirks. "Definitely." 

You flush and cross your arms over your chest. "I- I'm… Sirius-" 

He cuts you off. "I'll get you a towel, if you want. Yeah? No worrying about mess, then." 

He retrieves a towel and tucks it under your pelvis with an amused and somehow comforting smile. You stretch your hand out tentatively before he can climb back on top of you, reaching for his trouser buttons. He steps toward you and your fingers shake as you pull down his zipper, worse when you look up for a cue.

"You wanna touch me?" he asks. You nod but can't seem to make yourself do it, pulling your hands back towards your chest insecurely. "Hey, it's okay. It's alright. Here." 

He palms himself through his boxers and adjusts his cock so it's standing up. You watch and feel a twinge between your legs, mouth drying as he puts his hand out for yours. He shuffles closer and guides your hand onto his cock, pulling your hand up and down his length until you're acquainted. You're scared to hurt him, wrapping your fingers around him lightly. He twitches and you try to pull away. 

"It's alright," he says.

"It… moved." 

He laughs loudly. "S'cos it feels good when you touch me." 

You flush from head to toe and, emboldened by his confession, slip your hand under his waistband to stroke his naked cock, pushing his boxers down with the bottom of your hand. With your palm against the base of his shaft there's almost two inches of space between your fingertip and his head. You bite your lip. 

"You're really big," you murmur, breathless as you look up at his handsome face for reassurance. "Is this going to hurt?" 

He grabs at your hand where it rests on his cock and twines your fingers together, holding both hands in his. He brings them up to his chest and leans down until you're almost nose to nose. 

"Sweetheart," he says slowly, "I don't know if it'll hurt. It's different for everyone, but I'm gonna get you ready, and I'm gonna take care of you. I'm with you the entire time, you know that?" 

You lift your chin up and he indulges you, leaning down for a kiss. You steal your hands back to thread your fingers in his long hair, pulling him in closer, deeper. He shrugs out of his trousers as you kiss, a fact you're all too aware of, then his boxers. He pulls back and you whine until he obliges you with a shorter, sweeter kiss, climbing into the bed with you and over your legs. His knees dig into the towel. 

You spread your legs to accommodate him. 

There's an awful fondness on his face as he discovers your damp underwear. He rubs a hand in the space where your cunt meets your thigh. 

"Look at you," he murmurs, "my sweet girl. I'm gonna take these off now, okay?" 

You nod more enthusiastically than you mean to, though you're rewarded when you see his shoulders relax, a little of his worried tension slipping away. 

He rubs his thumb up the crease of your underwear, feels the squishy wetness at your entrance. His expression becomes almost pained as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, leaving them to dip between your knees. 

"Fuck, sweetheart. Your cunt is so fucking pretty." The sincerity in his voice makes you dizzy and the feeling only increases as he pulls your folds open with his thumbs. "Fuck," he says under his breath. 

You watch him over your fast-moving chest, hands pressed to your ribs. You hadn't realised how nervous you were at being seen until it was actually happening, and his reaction fills you with both love and confidence. 

You hike one of your legs up and anchor yourself with your heel, smiling at his surprise. He smiles back, reaching out to bring your hands to his mouth and adorn your knuckles in kisses. 

The other hand trails lightly up your slit, spreading a line of wetness over the small bead of your clit. Your lips part in reaction.  

"You're beautiful," he says, and you look from his touches to find he's watching your face, eyes on yours as he draws slippery circles around your clit. "You're so fucking pretty. All of you." 

His eyes drop back to your cunt. "Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?" 

You giggle nervously. "Uh…" 

"C'mon, don't be embarrassed." 

"I've tried," you admit, voice cracking. 

"Yeah?" he asks. When he smiles you can see his canine teeth. "I'm okay to have a go?" 

You nod. "I don't think- I think. Um. I think I tore my, my… you know. Before. I scared myself." 

He doesn't look how you worried he might, doesn't look disgusted or weirded out. He gazes down at your cunt with a thoughtful quirk to his lips. You tremble as his fingertips circle your twitching entrance and then climb back up to continue his ministrations on your clit. You squeeze his hand.  

"If you still have it, it'll probably bleed a little if I reach it. If it hurts too much, you can tell me to stop. If it hurts at all," he amends. "You want me to stop and I'll stop." He explains everything with a gentle patience and you feel guilty but you can barely listen, pleasure shooting up your tummy. 

You lift your hips off of the towel just a tiny bit, hoping he'll take the hint and that you won't have to say it aloud.

He takes the hint, letting your hand go. "How about I make you cum first, and then we'll see if you're feeling ready for me. How's that sound?" 

You nod. Back in his element, Sirius grins, pushing your legs open wider and leaning down. You gasp in surprise as his mouth meets your cunt, startled and intoxicated by his first, broad lick up your slit. 

His fingers grip into your thighs, mouth searching and hot and wet, lips closing around your clit. He sucks, licks, laps at your wetness until you're mewling, first quietly and then desperate. He pauses only to mutter out amorous seductions. 

"You taste sweet," he says innocently, glancing at you with his mouth and chin shining. 

You push your hands into his hair and encourage him back down. This delights him beyond words and he eats you out with renewed vigour, leaning his cheek against your cunt as he suckles your clit. His fingers tease your entrance, sliding first one finger and then two inside you, shallow and careful as you twitch underneath him. 

You cum before he's managed to work in a third, the feeling so overpowering that you squirm away from him and pull your hands from his hair carelessly. He pulls his mouth from your cunt and you hardly notice as he slides in his third finger, riding out your orgasm breathless and seized up. 

"Good girl," Sirius praises, fingers in a slow rhythm as they spread your hole open. "Good girl. Doing so good for me." 

You pant for breath. "Sorry," you say tearfully, "for pulling your hair. Sorry, baby." 

He pulls his fingers free from your sopping pussy and shakes his head. "You can get rough with me whenever you want, sweet thing." 

You smile blissfully at being forgiven.

"How was that?" he asks. "Hurts?" 

"No, it felt nice." 

"Even with three?" 

"I didn't notice," you admit, mortified. 

He straightens up and drags your hips towards him, shifting into a more comfortable position on his knees. "You ready to try?" 

"Please," you agree. 

His hands are everywhere, rubbing your legs, your tummy, your inner thighs. You know he's trying to keep you calm as he pushes the head of his cock against your cunt, sliding the throbbing head of it up your slit and then down. 

He looks hot. He's sweaty and your slick is all over him, his face and his hands and his arms. His chest is bare, tattoos stark black against his torso. You reach out to brush your thumb over the scorpion crawling across his ribs as he lines up and pushes in. 

It's nothing new at first, your wetness and his fingers having prepared you. An inch, two, he thrusts into you slow. His hips flex. 

"Doing so well. Doing so well for me, sweetheart," he says softly. 

It feels good, you realise, a little dazed as he pushes in further. Then, a tenderness, a pinch. You cringe at the feeling and he pushes just a little further before he stops, hands holding your hips in place. 

"There?" he asks. 

"Keep going?" you ask back. 

"You sure?" 

"Please? It felt nice at first. Get it over with," you whisper the last part. 

"Just a little more. Little bit more for me, baby," he whispers, then hisses. "Fuck, you're doing so good. Good girl." 

He ducks down to kiss the side of one of your rising tits. He catches your flesh in his teeth and bites lightly, sucking a hickey, eases in so slowly you almost don't notice. 

"Tiny bit more for me," he says, reverent, and then he bites down on your nipple just as his cock bottoms out. 

You whimper. He instantly releases your tit and soothes the swollen bud with a handful of sweet kisses, following a trail up to your collarbones, up your neck, until his eyes are hovering over yours. 

"I'm sorry," he says, rolling his hips gently, deep-seated inside you. He reaches down between you to rub your clit, "I thought one pain might distract you from another." 

He was right, in a way, your nipple does hurt more than the uncomfortable stretch of your walls, and his new plan – figure eights pushed rough and fast into your clit – is half as successful. 

"It's okay," you say wetly, chasing his touch. 

"Do we need to stop?" 

"No. No, it's okay." 

He kisses you chastely. "You're fucking beautiful." 

"So are you," you whisper, bringing your hands up to his face. He presses his forehead into yours as he pulls out. His returning thrust is sharp, then another, another, until the pain is an afterthought, until every stroke brings that feeling of fullness and stretch with it. 

He notices your pleasure. "There you go." 

He braces his hands on your chest, massaging the swollen peaks of your tits in his fingers as he drives into you. 

Your moaning becomes indistinguishable, peppered with expletives and startled little gasps when he hits something just right. He marks your sweet spot, finds it over and over, his own breathing warping into something deeper, a rugged moan. 

He climbs off of your chest and you hike up on your elbows to watch as he takes great handfuls of your hips, sliding your weeping cunt onto his cock with an echoing slap, the towel underneath you sodden with wet and cum. 

His eyebrows draw together. You do your best to move down onto his cock, calves hooked over his thighs. You roll your hips, a milking motion that pulls curse after curse from Sirius' throat. 

"Fuck," he says, voice deep and more ragged than you've heard before. "Fuck, sweetheart, where can I cum?" 

You squeeze your walls around his cock. "In me, baby, please. Wanna be full of you," you murmur, grabbing for his arms. He eases into your hold, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as his thrusts lose their speed, become sloppy. He buries his face in your neck, arms squeezing you so tightly it aches as he cums inside you, fucking it into you with a final, hip-aching thrust. 

He breathes loudly in your ear, turning his face into your neck. You, dazed, bring your hand up to cradle the back of his head. 

He comes back into himself and quickly takes his weight from you, cock moving inside you. The sudden restart of movement gives you chills. 

"Fuck, are you cold?" he asks. 

"No, no, sorry. Just feels funny now." 

"Oh." He chuckles and moves onto his haunches, pulling his cock out of you. He pumps the shaft with his hand, a mix of cum and slick dribbling down between your legs.  

He wipes his hands clean in the towel and you sit up shakily, staring down at the wet patch in surprise. 

"Messy," you murmur. 

"A little." 

You both giggle, a mixture of highs. 

He puts his hand out between you and you move your face into it in a familiar dance, crawling across the bed to climb over his lap. He receives you eagerly, hand pressed to the small of your back and pulling you in, chest still rising quickly between you.

You kiss for a little while, exhausted, before you hook your chin over his shoulder. He pats your back and sways you from side to side, his voice soft as velvet as he says, "Did such a good job, such a good girl. My good girl." You blink away tears and tighten your arms over his shoulder blades as he continues. "So pretty. Did you enjoy that?" 

"Yeah," you whisper. 

"Yeah? Felt good?" 

"Amazing," you say, face aflame, pushing your lips into his skin. You plant open mouthed kisses across the hill of his shoulder, hoping it translates as the thank you you mean it to be. 

"How did it feel for you?" you ask eventually, mouth still smushed against him. 

He nestles his nose into the side of your face. "Fucking perfect, sweetheart. Better than I ever thought." 

"You thought about this before?" you ask, confused.

He laughs like you've told the funniest joke in the world, hand stroking your spine. "Too often." Then, after a long, serene moment in his arms, "Let's get you cleaned up, sweet girl." 

You nod, though you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of his skin, his scent washing over you in a great wave. 

"In a minute. Wanna stay like this." 

Sirius pats your back again. "Got all the time in the world for you." 

<3

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

thanks for reading ❤️

marauders tag list @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly  @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw  @lupinlust  @touchdeprivedwh0re  @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin  @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper  @set-myself-on-fire  @decafcoffew @mischiefmanagers @runawaywithmyghost @froggyy06

ive been having technical difficulties with the tag list but I think I fixed it this time ♡

Stay A While?

-----pairing: neighbour!Bucky x reader

Summary: Living with your family in Brooklyn, a few years prior a man named Bucky moved back home and in next door to you. He lived alone and had no family besides his friend Sam’s family but as they lived quite a distance away, he would spend holidays and events with you and your family. You had always found him attractive and would spend almost all of your free time over at his place. It was summer vacation and your family was taking a vacation to visit relatives but you chose to stay behind… and alone with one James Buchanan Barnes.

A/N: This fic was inspired by ‘Crave’ by @bonky-n-steeb, which can be found HERE. I also think that this might be my dirtiest fic yet and I am living for it.

Warnings: unprotected sex, insemination, pet names (doll, hon), orgasm control, alcohol, couch sex, cockwarming

You stand from your seat on the couch in your living room and turn off the TV. Your family has been gone only 4 days and you’re already bored out of your mind and you’ve done practically everything there is to do; baking, cleaning, crafts, rearranging, home workouts, all of it.

After standing meaninglessly in the middle of your living room thinking for a moment, you realize that there’s one last thing to do that you’d completely forgotten about: Bucky.

You hurry upstairs and freshen up, change, and neaten your appearance before running back down the stairs and out the door, headed to Bucky’s place.

You open the unlocked front door and step inside. You are immediately engulfed into the comforting atmosphere of Bucky’s house: warm 40s records playing from the kitchen, shaded lamps lighting up the rooms rather than white LED bulbs, and light browns and pale beiges colouring the furniture and walls.

“Buck? It’s Y/N!” you call out, making your presence known.

“Upstairs,” he replies from the floor above you.

You head up the hardwood stairs and, at the top, you see into Bucky’s bedroom at the end of the hall. You can’t help but take an eyeful of the shirtless, wet-haired super-soldier standing 18 feet away from you as you freeze at the top of the stairs. It feels wrong to be eyeing your neighbour this way but you can’t seem to peel your eyes off of the sight.

He drapes a light grey t-shirt over his shoulders before turning toward you and pulling it the rest of the way down.

“Like what you see?” he jokes as he brushes past you down the stairs.

You want to say yes, absolutely yes, but you know you won’t. So, you follow his path down the stairs a few moments after him, flustered.

You follow him into the kitchen as he pours himself a glass of whiskey.

“Want a drink?” he asks.

“Sure,” you respond, sitting opposite of him on a stool behind the counter.

He pours you a glass of the amber and slides it across the island to you as he leans his forearms on the edge.

“So, what do you want to do?” he asks, studying your face.

‘Fuck you Bucky. I wanna ride that super-soldier serum out of you drop by drop.’ you think to yourself, cheeks burning as he stares into your averted eyes. You take a moderate sip of the tingly liquid and place it back down before responding; “Have you seen Hamilton?” you ask after a brief pause.

“Yeah. Sam’s nephews made me watch it about six times before they got tired of it. Only took a week.”, he responds with small sarcasm.

“Well… do you wanna watch it?” you ask cautiously.

He raises an eyebrow before shaking his head.

“Sure, why not,” he responds with a small smile.

You can’t help but smile, too. A friend of yours had sent you some tracks from the Hamilton soundtrack and got you hooked on them a while back, just before Bucky moved in.

“What time is it?” he asks and nods to your pocket.

You pull your phone from your back pocket and check the time.

“10:37,” you respond.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Almost 11? It looks like 8!” he exclaims as you both look out the kitchen window just above the stainless-steel sink.

“The sun rises late in fall, genius. I thought you said you grew up here?” you say, tauntingly, as you stand from the stool and wander off into the living room. Bucky follows you across the floor.

“First of all, the sun set differently 70-something years ago, alright? Other than missions I didn’t get to see sunsets. I was locked in a damn freezer.” he retaliates, mocking his trauma as he takes another gulp from his patterned glass.

You set your glass on the coffee table in front of the couch and turn on the TV. He sinks into the couch on your left and places his glass next to yours. You put Hamilton on pause before rushing back into the kitchen to grab the rest of the bottle of Bucky’s whiskey.

“Really?” he asks with a monotone voice as you set it on the coffee table between the glasses.

“Why not,” you shrug before pressing play on the remote.

The first track plays and you curl up into the middle of the couch, tucking your knees up beside you.

—

As one of the tracks is performed on the screen, you can’t help but think about Bucky’s history as you process the lines. You look across the couch at the man watching the play intently, clearly relaxed and comfortable with the presences around him.

You again can’t seem to take your eyes off of him, admiring his blue eyes flicking around the screen as he watches the cast’s movements, admiring the dip in his cheek where he chews the inside of his mouth subconsciously.

You feel warm inside at the sight of him in such a natural, content state just down the couch from you.

Further lyrics provoke thought in you as you admire Bucky. The idea of shooting your shot with your neighbour pulses throughout your mind and you can’t help but shift in your spot.

Apparently, it’s enough movement to pique Bucky’s interest and he looks toward you.

“You alright?” he asks, dipping his brows.

“Yeah, why?” you flush as you realize how much you’d been moving.

“No reason.” He responds, hesitantly turning back to the TV.

You finally make up your mind.

Fuck it.

Moving closer to Bucky on the couch, you start to involve yourself more in his presence. As you sit next to him, you drop your head onto his broad shoulder; it isn’t abnormal of you, you do it all the time.

You continue watching the play— well, he does all the while you’re too busy in your head mapping out further actions.

You bend forward and grab the glasses from the coffee table, passing him his. As you retract your hand from his glass once he’s grabbed it, you subtly brush the side of your hand across his inner thigh. He sharply inhales from the contact, barely noticeable, but lucky for you, you noticed.

For the next twenty-or-so minutes, you make subtle movements to diverge Bucky’s attention. You would press the side of your hip into his thigh, fidget mesmerizingly with your fingers, and rest your head on his shoulder so he could just barely feel your breath fanning down the side of his neck.

Apparently, he’d caught on, because he began to do the same to you: brushing his hand across your lower back while reaching for the remote beside you to alter the volume, passing his pinky and ring fingers down your thigh while reaching for his drink, etc.

You get nothing if you wait for it, wait for it, wait

You look up to him through the corner of your eye only to see him already staring down at you. He places his right hand on your jaw and leans down the short distance to your lips, kissing you once, slowly. Your faces part after a quick moment and you both look in different directions.

“I’ve been waiting a while for that,” he states.

Silence.

“That was wrong,” you add as you fully process what just happened before shuffling into the back of the couch, not moving away from Bucky, just backward. He sighs and lets his head fall back, face scrunched into a sour canvas of regret. You two sit there for a moment as you think. “I never said I didn’t like it,” you speak into the quiet musical atmosphere.

Non-stop!

Bucky quickly swings his head back to face you and scans over your suggestive expression before reattaching your lips. You deepen the kiss by climbing over him and straddling his lap— slightly grinding onto his crotch. He holds your waist, pulling you closer to himself and toys with the hem of your shirt. Your movement stutters for a moment but then you lift the shirt over your head and toss it across the couch. Bucky eyes the flesh displayed by the push-up of your bra and runs his hand up and down your back slowly, gently pushing you back down to his face. He kisses from your lips, down your jawline, to your neck, across your collarbone, and eventually leaves a combination of light and dark hickeys spread across your chest.

He stands from the couch, holding you around his waist by the thighs and still attached via the kiss, and places you on your back along the couch. He hovers over you for a brief second before standing all the way up and peeling the fresh shirt off of himself. He climbs onto the couch on his knees and parts your legs before crawling between them and kissing you once again. He squeezes your thigh tightly as he makes out with you, not wanting you to go anywhere. You reach down and try to wiggle yourself out of your jeans but can only reach so far. He notices and pulls them down your legs with one hand, pulling one pant leg at a time. When he gets them to your ankles, you kick them off and they join the party of clothing at the other end of the couch. The kissing seems endless so to get a small break, you pull at the waist of his dark-washed jeans. He stands and pulls them off to reveal his previously hidden very hard, very large dick pitching a tent in his grey boxers. You chuckle in surprise, raising your eyebrows as you imagine the many things he could do to you.

“What? You’ve never seen a real man’s cock before?” he asks tauntingly, a massive smirk plastered on his face as he looks you in the eyes and lowers himself back between your legs— back to your lips.

Helpless

He lifts himself up and pushes himself backward along the couch, ending up at his final destination: between your legs. You lift your hips from the cushion for him and he slowly pulls your underwear off, keeping eye contact with him. You feel your cheeks burn a hot rod red as he eyes your heat, his pupils outweighing the blue of his eyes.

Once your underwear are all the way off, he wastes no time in getting to taste you. The second he is able to get back between your legs, his mouth is eating you out like it’s his last meal ever or his first in ages. The lewd sounds alone are enough to make you wanna cum + his occasional groans and constant squeezing of your thighs = you, a hot, moaning, squirming mess.

Your closed fists pull on his dark hair harder and harder as you get closer and closer which doesn’t take long.

Barnes works quickly and efficiently.

He laps his spit mixed with your arousal out from your lips like an animal, bringing you to a fast closing. With the harsh flicking of his tongue against your clit and the pressure of his middle finger up against your front wall, you feel your body convulse as if you’d just lost all control of it and stars form behind your eyelids. Bucky doesn’t slow or pause, though. He keeps working you overtime to make sure you’re absolutely empty for him.

He resurfaces to your face, dragging his Vibranium arm along behind himself, up across your heat and all along your stomach, giving you chills. He kisses you deeply and you taste yourself on him which was something you’d only ever imagined in wet dreams of him. You glide your hands down his abs and pull his boxers to his thighs. He takes them the rest of the way and you both sit in anticipation for a moment watching the precum leak from his tip and roll down the side. You sit up a bit and remove your bra, laying back down, flat on your back.

He takes in an absolute eyeful of your boobs and then lines himself up with you. He stares intensely into your eyes before speaking:

“Are you absolutely sure you wanna do this? It’s not just something we can undo, y’know,” he mutters, so close to your face that you can feel his eyelashes blow small, soft breezes onto your skin every time he blinks.

“Ab-so-lute-ly, Barnes,” you state cheekily as you sneak your hand around his length, softly gliding your thumb around his tip, evenly spreading his precum around.

He shudders at the feeling and wraps his hand around your closed hand and pushes himself into you slowly. Your mouth stays open at the feeling of the stretch but no sound comes out. Once he is all the way in, he keeps your hands together, interlacing your fingers and pressing your hands into the couch right beside your head. You let out occasional breathy moans as he pushes his hips into yours over and over, so far in that his pubic bone presses into your clit. When you let out one particularly voiced moan, his hips stutter as you tighten around him.

“God, you’re tight,” he chuckles, giving you butterflies and making your cheeks flush.

“Been some time,” you respond with a small awkward smile.

“Me too, give or take 70 years,” he jokes.

You both giggle. When he first moved in, he was relatively closed off but friendly. Once you started to make conversation with him and open up to him, he began to do the same. You eventually became sort of therapists for one another— he trusted you a lot. He lowers himself onto you so that you’re chest to chest, holding his weight on his right forearm, also placed beside you.

He takes his time with you and moves at a moderate-to-slow pace, pulling almost all the way out and pushing in as far as your cervix will let him. You arch your back off of the couch as you revel in the feeling of his dick stretching you around him and pressing up on your cervix with every thrust.

“Bucky, faster…” you moan out quietly.

He smirks up at you and begins to pick up his pace, keeping his thrusts deep and drawn-out. He lifts his torso back up off of you and holds himself up on your interlaced hands as he grabs your right hip. His fingertips press into your skin gently, pressing harder and harder as time goes on. He doesn’t try to hide his moans— he trusts you, plus every time he moans, you tighten around him.

You rock your hips against his in anticipation for your highly needed orgasm and he picks up the pace once again. He tilts his head down to watch the way your lips tuck with every push into you. He moans out when you tighten yourself around him to get his attention. He looks up at you with hooded eyes mostly made up of the black of his pupils and only small rings of ashy blue.

“Let’s flip,” you say with a smirk on your face, knowing he’ll comply. His mouth falls open as he pulls out of you and for a brief second gets to see the way your slick shines as small amounts of it leak from you. You stand from the couch and move to the middle while Bucky pushes himself up against the armrest on his back. You climb back onto the couch on one knee, supporting yourself from the ground with your other leg, and grab his wet cock in your hand, stroking it as you position yourself. You lower yourself closer to him and rub his tip along your heat, pushing it around, through your lips. You watch his face as he furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips in restraint, watching what you’re doing to him with a heavy glare.

After you’ve had enough with the teasing, you slowly start to lower yourself onto him, stopping after every short distance to pull him back out and start over until you hit the bottom. Once he is all the way in you, it feels much deeper than before and his face relaxes in relief but his eyebrows stay furrowed and the wrinkle between his brows remains. He puts his hands on your hips and guides you up and down his thick length, feeling your tight rim, smooth walls, and the pressure of your cervix into his tip welcome him every time. He makes mental notes of how it feels to be inside of you while you just take in the sight below you. You move a hand down south and begin to rub back and forth against your clit, eyes and head rolling back as you do so. You feel your high approaching quickly and start to move both your fingers and your body faster before you feel the cold metal of Bucky’s left hand pulling your hand away from yourself.

You open your eyes and retreat your head to face him but before you can process it, his thumb begins flicking your clit incredibly forcefully and fast. You cry out at the sensation— so overwhelming but so great— and feel Bucky twitch inside of you. He pushes your hips forward and inserts a finger into you in front of his cock, stretching you to a burning feeling. You want him to ditch the finger and stick to only the dick but before you know it, he’s moving his fingers and dick at the same time and you can’t help but feel like you’re floating in euphoria. Bucky removes the finger, slightly disappointing you. Then, he grabs your thigh on the couch and holds you in place, using his other 4 metal fingers to hold your hip on the opposite side of your body in place as well, still toying with your clit.

You look down at him through teary eyes to see him with wide eyes and a proud face like a kid in a candy store.

“Buck…”, you begin before being cut off by a wave of pressure into your abdomen.

You double over onto bucky, resting your forehead on his as he pounds into you from below deep, fast, and hard. You both watch from above as your fluids drip down onto him while he rearranges your guts.

“Buck! I’m gonna cum…” you cry, then weep to him, gripping his shoulders like your life depended on it.

“Hang on to it for me, alright, doll? I just need you to hang on…” he says nearly out of breath.

You find yourself at a loss and almost unable to hold it back anymore, a tear rolling down your cheek and onto his face.

“Bucky!” you whine.

His face scrunches up, then relaxes as he moans loudly, looking back at the mess you’re making on him.

“Now, hon” he permits. He puts more pressure onto your clit and picks up the pace, sending you over the edge. You arch your back, digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades and rocking your hips as your high begins. “That’s it, cum for me. I’ve got you…” he reassures, intensifying your orgasm. You moan out into the closed pocket of air between you and Bucky’s chests as you press your forehead to his chin. “Give it all to me. You’re okay,” he says into the top of your head.

Your high begins to come down but just before you finish, Bucky lets out a loud, stuttered groan as you feel the tickle and warmth of his cum shooting into your abdomen as he continues to fuck you from below. You feel another orgasm come up and you still haven’t even finished the first yet.

“Bucky!” you yell out as you push your hips down onto him, breaking the restraint of Bucky’s hands on your hips. You press your hips up and down onto him as he meets your movements. You press your mouths together and tongue at each other's throats as you finish your orgasms at the same time. Once you’ve both finished, the kiss melts into a much less intense one as you lift yourself off of Bucky’s dick. It falls between his legs and you move up to sit on his lower abdomen and lay on his chest. You lay there together with your eyes closed as you listen to the music play from the TV and Bucky strokes your back with his fingertips while you play with his hair gently in one hand. He can feel his cum slowly dripping out of you and onto his abdomen.

“Stay a while?” Bucky requests.