#chris Evans #in Where He Is Actually Steve Rogers

I mean sometimes i care but other times….

The truth of it 🤣

oh my. pls congressman sergeant james. pls.

Security Clearance

Title: Security Clearance

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Former SHEILD!Female Reader

Summary:  When a long day of political chaos leaves Congressman Bucky Barnes teetering on the edge, the last person he wants watching him is you.

Word Count:  3.8k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, SMUT, Rough sex, aggressive dominants, biting, bruising, possessiveness, Semi-public setting (gym), Mutual physical aggression (consensual, Breathless dirty talk, Workplace-adjacent setting (Congressman x Bodyguard dynamic)

A/N:  Want to get this out before Thunderbolts* 

You hated this suit.

Not because it was tight or unflattering, but because it made you feel like part of the machine again. Like some cog wheeled into place after being discarded years ago. The synthetic fibers clung to your skin like old duty-like expectation. It itched in a way you couldn’t scratch. You weren’t SHIELD anymore, hadn’t been for years, but when the government needed someone with a little edge, a little blood on their hands and a spotless record on paper, your name still came up. So here you were-again. A private contractor with federal strings tied tight around your wrists. They called it security clearance. You called it a leash.

That’s how you ended up here, standing in the corner of a polished D.C. office suite, the walls too white, the air too cold, watching Congressman James Buchanan Barnes slowly come apart at the seams.

He didn’t like you. That much was obvious.

You didn’t blame him. You were a shadow in his periphery, always there. At hearings. At dinners. In hallways with nothing but silence between you. You were the person who never flinched under his stare, the one who didn’t try to smile or play politics. Your job was simple: observe, protect, report. And sometimes, control.

You were a living, breathing reminder that Bucky Barnes wasn’t as free as the country he served.

But truthfully? You weren’t sure he hated you as much as he hated what you represented. The collar he couldn’t shake. The watchdog the state had assigned him in the form of someone with matching ghosts.

Bucky Barnes was a former assassin turned polished representative with a jawline sharp enough to make headlines and a gaze that could still freeze a room. That was before today. Today, his hair was disheveled, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. His eyes-stormy, bloodshot, heavy-lidded-burned with something you hadn’t seen since the field: unspent violence.

His tie hung loose around his collarbone, his sleeves rolled up past the elbow. The flash of metal from his forearm caught the light with every furious step he took across the office.

You didn’t need enhanced senses to pick up the tension bleeding off him in waves. It was in the twitch of his fingers. The restless pacing. The way his mouth moved soundlessly before finally giving voice to his thoughts.

"Need to hit something before I hit someone," he bit out, ripping the rest of his tie off like it offended him. He didn’t look at you. Just turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

You gave it two beats.

Then pushed off the wall and followed.

~#~#~#~#~#~

The gym was cold and empty. Just polished floors, the faint smell of leather and sweat, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You stepped inside and paused just past the doorway, letting the door shut behind you with a soft click.

Bucky was already moving, disappearing into the changing room without a word. You stayed where you were, arms folded, leaning back against the wall as you let the silence stretch. A few minutes passed, and then he returned.

He’d stripped down into a plain black workout tee and loose dark sweats. Gone was the suited congressman-the image scrubbed away along with the tie and the tension. This was the man you remembered from field briefings in shadowed corners of SHIELD operations-lean muscle, taut lines, a low-simmering fury barely restrained beneath his skin.

You turned away from him, scanning the open gym floor as he began wrapping his right hand in athletic tape. Methodical. Focused. The sound of the tape unraveling was sharp in the quiet.

You started walking, slowly pacing the perimeter of the space, each step steady. You moved like you were still checking for exits, still measuring threats. It was instinct. Habit. You let your fingers skim along the wall padding. The air smelled like sweat and adrenaline and rubber.

Then the first thwack hit the air.

You stopped walking.

Bucky was hammering the punching bag. Sharp, brutal strikes. The kind that made the chain rattle and the leather creak. The kind that left bruises if anyone got in his way. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was still worked up. His grunts came short and clipped, not satisfied. Not eased.

You slowly turned back to watch him. He kept going. Harder. Faster. Each strike was more violent than the last, fists hammering the bag like it had personally offended him. You could almost hear it in his breathing-the way his exhales shortened, the growl that hovered behind each grunt. The bag wasn't working. If anything, it was winding him tighter.

You didn’t need to see his expression to know the storm inside him was getting worse. His punches turned more erratic. Sloppier, even, like control was slipping.

Then came the sharp exhale-a frustrated huff that echoed too loud in the empty space. He dropped his arms, the bag swaying slightly from the abuse, and turned toward you like he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

His eyes were fire when they met yours.

"You got anything under that you can fight in?" he asked, voice still sharp, still clipped.

You crossed your arms and raised a brow. "We're not suppose to engage the client, Sir.."

His jaw ticked. "I thought you had to follow directives?"

"Charming." You snorted muttering under your breath. 

Still, you considered it. It had been a while since you’d had a proper spar. The last few agents assigned to Bucky’s rotation had all been too stiff, too careful. The second you got aggressive, they called you 'too much'-like they didn’t sign up to be knocked flat. Bucky, though... Bucky could take a hit. More than that, he wanted one.

With a sigh, you rolled your eyes and slowly began stripping off your blazer. Then your shirt. Underneath, a fitted black tank hugged your torso. "This work for you, Congressman?"

He just turned to dig in his duffel before tossing a pair of grey sweatpants at you.

"Wear those. I don't want to get billed for ruining those pants." 

You rolled your eyes but changed, your slacks hitting the floor before you stepped into the pants he gave you. Slightly too big. Smelled like him. Looking up Bucky back was to you while you'd been changing. 

You met him on the mats, both barefoot. The floor felt cool beneath your feet, the air thickening between you in slow increments. Barnes rolled his shoulders back, the faint mechanical whirl of his metal arm filling the silence like a warning. Then came the pop of his neck as he tilted it side to side, eyes still fixed on you, unblinking.

For a moment, nothing moved. Just the subtle twitch of his fingers, your mirrored stance, the tension coiling between you like an elastic band stretched tight. You studied him-really looked. The way his shoulders stayed high, rigid with barely leashed frustration. How his jaw was still locked, even now. He wasn’t fighting to warm up. He was fighting to keep something inside.

You could see it-every inch of him wound tight like a spring, controlled only by discipline and sheer force of will. He wasn’t here to spar. He was here to unload.

Fine. Let him.

It started controlled-simple drills, practiced maneuvers. The kind of opening movements you’d run a hundred times before. You both circled, feet light on the mat, trading calculated strikes. You blocked, countered. Tested. Pushed. Watched him do the same.

He was sussing you out.

You let it build. Let him think maybe you were holding back, maybe you were just a suit who couldn’t take a hit like you used too. But the second he shifted forward with more speed, you welcomed it. Met it. Matched it. Dared him to give you more.

You weren’t made of glass.

If Bucky wanted a moving target, you’d give him one.

His pace turned aggressive. The precision in his movements gave way to something harder, more visceral. Each strike he threw was faster, heavier-like he wanted to knock the air out of you, like he needed to feel the hit deep in his bones. You answered in kind. Your footwork shifted from reactive to dominant, testing his limits with sharper counters and quicker feints. Hits landed with satisfying thuds, echoing off the gym walls like thunderclaps.

You ducked beneath one wide swing and jabbed hard at his ribs, earning a grunt. His metal arm caught your next strike and shoved you back with enough force to make your heel skid along the mat-but you didn’t hesitate. You recovered fast, twisted low under his reach, and drove a solid kick into his stomach. The contact thudded through your leg and up your spine. He grunted again-not in pain, but with a glimmer of satisfaction flashing through his eyes like you’d finally given him something real to work with.

He grinned.

You hated how good it looked on him. Like he was finally enjoying himself. Like he hadn’t looked that alive in weeks.

You went for his legs. He anticipated it, but not fast enough. He hit the mat with a solid thud that reverberated through the floor, the sound sharp in your ears. Your body reacted without hesitation-knees planted to either side of his waist as you straddled him, sweat-slick and breathing hard. Muscles burned deliciously with effort, your limbs trembling slightly from exertion. You were already flushed, heat rising under your skin, blood thrumming loud in your ears.

Then he moved. A quick twist of his hips and you were airborne for a half-second before he flipped you like a coin. Your back hit the mat, air whooshing out of your lungs.

The fight bled into something else.

Now he was above you, chest heaving, face flushed, dark hair falling loose across his brow. His breath hit your jaw, hot and ragged. Your own lungs worked double time trying to keep up, chest rising and falling with each greedy gasp for oxygen. Your skin was tacky with sweat, the sting of motion and contact still rippling through your body. Every muscle screamed with effort, every nerve buzzing with the high of adrenaline.

You felt alive. On fire.

And you stared at each other, unmoving. That flicker in his eyes-once analytical, maybe even annoyed-had burned down into something molten. Something wicked. Something hungry.

"You wanna fight," he growled, voice like sandpaper and smoke, "or you wanna fuck?"

You didn’t answer.

You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him down into you like you were daring him to find out.

The clothes went fast. His hands were everywhere, rough and demanding. He yanked your top off so quickly the friction dragged hard across your skin, leaving it tender, raw in spots-but you didn’t care. You were already burning, already writhing beneath the heat rising in your veins. His shirt was next, flying across the room like it had offended him. Skin met skin, fever-hot, slick with sweat.

You didn’t even make it upright. You rolled together across the mat, limbs tangled, lips locked in something closer to a snarl than a kiss. You shoved him back with your forearm; he pulled you down by the waist. The padded floor caught your shoulder as you twisted under him, teeth grazing his jaw. You ground your hips up into his like you were trying to fuse with him, dragging a growl out of his throat.

The need had been simmering since day one-and now it boiled over.

He broke the kiss just long enough to push your bra up and out of the way, rough fingers palming the swell of your breast before his mouth sealed over your nipple. He sucked hard until you gasped, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak. You arched into it, one hand buried in his hair.

Then his hand was dragging down, fast and possessive, running over your stomach and dipping under the waistband of your borrowed sweats and underwear in one fluid motion. The cold of the vibranium shocked you as his fingers slid between your legs, bold and greedy. 

"Fuck… you’re wet already."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you panted, nails digging into his waist. "Just.. sweat.." 

He laughed, low and dangerous, then sat back on his knees, eyes devouring you like he was already tasting you in his head. In one sharp motion, he shoved your borrowed sweats down. He didn’t hesitate. One rough yank sent your pants halfway down your thighs, and then he was grabbing your hips, dragging you against him like he was starved for it. You grunted, twisting with him as you rolled over, bodies grappling for dominance even now, forcing your pants off to give your legs a full range of motion. 

You clawed at his skin biting down hard on Bucky's neck, marking him, dragging a sound from deep in his chest that was nothing short of feral. He hissed, teeth bared, his hands fumbling with his own waistband before he shoved his sweats down just far enough to free himself.

You didn’t get a warning. No teasing. No buildup.

He shoved into you with a growl, thick and deep and unforgiving. You gasped, the stretch stealing your breath and making your spine arch. He filled you to the hilt, every inch forcing you open until your walls fluttered around him, squeezing back instinctively. The friction was filthy, the burn sublime, your cunt gripping him with a desperate kind of greed.

"Fuck..." he snarled against your cheek, his voice shredded, ragged with the restraint it was costing him not to completely lose control.

You could feel the power in him, muscles tensed like coiled wire as he bottomed out, holding still just long enough for your body to adjust-but it wasn’t nearly enough. Your hips rolled up, instinctive and greedy, chasing the sensation like you needed more of him. Needed him to move, to wreck you. He responded immediately, a brutal snap of his hips that punched a sharp cry out of your throat, the sound swallowed by the thick, humid air.

You dug your heels into the mat, bracing, pulling him deeper as you arched up into every thrust. Your nails raked down his spine, dragging welts along sweat-slick skin. Your cunt clenched hard around him, squeezing tight like you never wanted to let him go, like your body was just as desperate as he was to keep him buried deep inside. He felt massive, every stroke grinding against your sweet spot, slick and devastating.

"Christ..." you gasped, voice wrecked, torn straight from your chest like gravel. You rocked back against him, eyes fluttering, your whole body a raw, trembling thing.

His breath hit your neck, hot and ragged. "You like that?"

You could barely answer, too strung out on the push and pull of his body-but you weren’t yielding. Not completely. One of your hands wrenched free of his grip and tangled in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to crash your mouth to his. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a challenge. A bite.

He snarled and surged forward, dragging you down to the mat fully, but you fought him for every inch of control-hips rolling up to meet his, mouth dragging along his jaw to nip at his throat, your legs locking tighter around his waist. You bit down hard on the hinge of his shoulder, grinning at the guttural sound it tore from his chest.

His hands found yours again, slamming them above your head, pinning you like a wild thing beneath him. But you didn’t go limp. You writhed, arched, snapped your teeth at his throat like you wanted to devour him.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, voice raw and wrecked. "You want to be on top that bad?"

"And let you have all the fun.." you hissed back, eyes blazing.

When he drove into you again, it wasn’t just lust-it was a challenge met, a battle accepted. A dare between beasts. It was teeth and sweat and the raw scrape of skin on skin. Moans caught between gritted teeth. Fingernails carving stories into flesh. Each thrust came with a brutal rhythm, deep and fast, his hips slamming into you with force that rattled through your bones.

You took it. Gave it back. Your cunt squeezed around him like a vise, greedy, refusing to let him retreat. You met him thrust for thrust, voice hoarse and wild, breath panting out curses and gasps.

"Come on, Barnes. You wanted a fight-fucking take it."

He snarled like an animal, dragging his mouth down your neck as he ground against your sweet spot. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"You should be so lucky," you spat as his teeth meat your skin. 

Your thighs trembled with the effort, but your fire didn’t fade. You rocked up hard, lips dragging along his jaw before sinking your teeth into his neck again, marking him with pride. You felt his cock twitch in response.

"You're not the only one who likes to bite, Barnes," you growled into his ear.

He hissed again, head tipping forward, the movement desperate. His hands fumbled, trying to grab your hips, trying to hold you still as you took control of the rhythm, riding him from beneath with nothing but fury and fire and hunger.

"You’re fuckin’ feral," he panted.

"You love it," you breathed, grinding harder.

"Yeah," he gasped. "Yeah, I fuckin’ do."

You weren’t being fucked. You were fucking him back. And he loved every damn second of it.

His pace turned punishing, hips slamming into yours with an obscene, wet sound. The mat beneath you squeaked with the force of it, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing loud in the gym. You couldn’t stay quiet-not when he was grinding into you just right, hitting that perfect angle with brutal consistency.

Your body jolted with each stroke, every nerve ending flaring as friction sparked raw heat beneath your skin. The stretch had your mouth falling open, your breath coming in faster bursts as your muscles twitched, clenching around him. Heat bloomed at the base of your spine, thick and molten, curling tighter with every brutal snap of his hips until it was all you could do to breathe.

"Fuck-god yes-"

He didn’t stop. Didn’t soften. He just growled, pulled out with a curse, and flipped you over in one effortless move, dragging your hips up until you were on your knees, chest still pressed to the mat.

"Thought you were tough," he rasped, voice scraping hot against your ear.

You barely caught your breath, heart hammering in your chest, your body still twitching with aftershocks, when he grabbed your hips and shoved back inside you from behind in one brutal, claiming thrust. The impact rocked you forward with a gasp, your hands bracing against the mat to keep from collapsing.

"Fuck, Bucky-"

His hips snapped forward, dragging a broken moan from your lips. "Say it again," he growled.

"Fuck, Bucky!"

He was deeper like this-thicker, overwhelming. You choked out a moan as your walls clamped down hard around him, the sound raw and broken. One of his hands wrapped tightly around the back of your neck, keeping you down, the pressure firm but grounding, while the other dragged between your legs with unrelenting purpose. His fingers found your clit and began rubbing ruthless, tight circles that made your entire body jump.

"That’s it. Give it to me," he murmured, low and possessive.

You bit down on your own forearm to stifle the sound building in your throat, but it was useless. The sensation was too much, too fast. The drag of him inside you was merciless-slick and raw, every stroke grinding against your tender walls, forcing you wider with each thrust. The sound of your bodies colliding was obscene, wet and rhythmic, as though he was carving himself into your core with every brutal snap of his hips. He didn’t just fill you-he overwhelmed you, like his cock was made to split you open and stay buried until you forgot anything but the pulse of him pounding into that aching spot deep inside. Your muscles tensed-shoulders, thighs, back-locking up like you were going to snap in half.

"I’m gonna-shit-Bucky, I’m-"

Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train-merciless, sudden, all-consuming. Your vision went white at the edges as stars burst behind your eyelids, a raw scream tearing from your throat. Your body locked up, then convulsed, wave after wave of climax pulsing through you with maddening intensity. You twitched, your thighs quaking, your cunt spasming tight around him as overstimulation clawed at your nerves. A sob caught in your throat as he kept going, dragging every ounce of sensation from you until your muscles gave out entirely.

Behind you, Bucky snarled your name like a curse and a prayer, barely holding on. He slammed into you one final time and froze, his entire body trembling with restraint as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him, milking him with rhythmic, desperate spasms. His head dropped to your back, and for a moment he couldn’t even breathe.

"Fucking-god, you feel unreal," he choked out, hips giving a helpless jerk as he tried not to lose it too soon.

His hips jerked erratically, cock pulsing thick inside you. You felt the twitch and heat of him spilling deep, his release pushing you into another soft, shuddering aftershock. He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave an imprint, muffling his cry as his orgasm tore through him.

"You’re mine," he gasped, nearly inaudible, more instinct than declaration.

Your body gave out first. You slumped to the mat, arms too weak to hold you up. "You..you think you won that fight?" you panted, half-laughing, half-broken.

He followed you down, still buried inside, both of you breathless and slick with sweat. For a long moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the quiet creak of the gym around you.

He sagged over your back for a long moment, still inside you, both of you panting, sweat dripping from his forehead to your spine.

Eventually Bucky pulled out with a groan and flopped beside you, still catching his breath.

Neither of you spoke.

Not yet.

"Think anyone heard that?"

You let out a dry laugh, turning your head slightly where it rested against the mat. "If they didn’t, they’ll see the marks tomorrow."

He let out a rough sound beside you, one arm flung over his eyes like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Gonna have to bullshit my way through a morning meeting."

"Not my problem," you said, still breathless but smiling. "I don’t recall you complaining."

"I’m not. But if I stand, I’m going to fall."

You snorted, finally shifting enough to flop onto your back, your chest still rising and falling. "You going to get in trouble?"

He rolled his head toward you, expression unreadable but softer around the edges. "Probably. You?"

You exhaled slowly. "Definitely."

A pause stretched between you, thick with the weight of what just happened. But when he passed you your tank, his fingers brushed yours-slow, warm, deliberate. Like he wanted you to notice.

"Same time next week?" he asked, a flicker of something more in his voice.

You met his gaze, smirking.

"Sooner."

TAGS: @ruexj283, @yesiamthatwierd, @trojanaurora, @hextech-bros

Locked- b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Bucky just got home from a week-long mission, but he has some work to finish before he can pay attention to you. You take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: Smut/18+, vibrator use, references to sexting/pics/videos, handjob, light edging/orgasm denial, PIV sex, needy/slightly subby Bucky

Masterlist coming soon

Find me on ao3: dewystars

“Oof.”

Bucky barely cracked the apartment door open before he had to stagger back and brace himself against the force of your hug. You stood on your toes, your arms around his neck while you peppered kisses to his jawline. He wrapped his arms around you and pushed you back into the living room, kicking the door shut before he leaned down to meet your lips.

“Missed you,” you said against his mouth, unable to hold back your grin. You’d been waiting for him, and you didn’t intend to waste any time— you hooked your fingers into his belt loops to pull him closer.

But Bucky just pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek and stepped back.

“I need a couple minutes, honey, okay? I’ve gotta finish this report for Steve, I’m sorry— half an hour, tops.” Ignoring your dismayed glare, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and found a spot on the couch to work. He hadn’t expected you to be wearing that robe— soft, slinky material that provided easy access to what was underneath. That complicated things.

Bucky had been away for nearly a week on a recon mission. And oh, you gave him hell while he was gone— those pictures you sent, and god, the videos. The videos he’d had to watch curled up in his sleeping bag, with headphones in his ears and his hands clenched at his sides because he could not touch himself, damn it. There was no privacy in the one-room safehouse they’d been staying in, not even a hot shower to provide an escape and muffle his groans. He was trapped. You knew this, but you still sent the videos, working him up and torturing him so he’d be frantic for you when he came home.

But he wasn’t even supposed to be home yet. The paperwork never ended, and technically he was still supposed to be at headquarters for another hour, filling out forms and reports. He’d snuck out early— one kiss, he told himself, and then he’d submit the reports from home, easily before the deadline. And fuck, he was trying.

You sat next to him on the couch with your legs folded under you. “Come to bed,” you said softly as you placed your hand on his right bicep, raising goosebumps on his skin while he typed. “Let me take care of you.”

He pulled his eyes away from the laptop screen to glance at you. Only a glance, because he couldn’t bear to look at you when you were staring at him like that.

“I can’t, honey. Just a couple more minutes.”

“But I need you now.” You were pouting, and the front of your robe had slipped open slightly— he stared for a second too long before he forced his attention back to the screen. He just had to get through this report.

He hadn’t shaved all week, and his stubble had grown long enough that it was almost soft when you reached up and stroked your thumb along his jaw. You kept your hand on his chin when you rose to your knees and leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

He shivered at your hot breath against his skin, and his breath caught from the sting when you nipped at his earlobe. You worked your way down, mouthing at the tender spot just below his ear, and then down his neck, all the while holding his face steady with your hand.

But his eyes never left the laptop screen.

You settled back on your heels, your enthusiasm flattening. “Bucky, c’mon,” you whined.

He clenched his teeth. He really wasn’t supposed to be at home right now. And if he didn’t have this report submitted in the next thirty minutes, Steve would come looking for him, only finding an empty desk where Bucky was supposed to be. He’d be in deep shit then, benched and reduced to clerical work faster than he could say concupiscent. Steve didn’t understand; he’d never had you touching him, begging for him like this.

“If you let me focus, honey, I’ll be done faster.”

You were still for a moment, but then you nodded, and he thought maybe he’d convinced you. He didn’t look up from the screen, so he didn’t see how your eyes were narrowed. Settled. Determined.

You huffed, your lips pulled into a tight line. “Fine. I won’t bother you.”

You bounced up off the couch and disappeared into the bedroom, your robe slipping off one shoulder as you shut the door behind you with a click.

Bucky shook his head slightly and tried to focus back on his work. Twenty minutes, really. That was all he needed.

Successfully infiltrated building at 2200 hours.

His enhanced hearing was both a blessing and a curse. Inside the bedroom, he heard the unmistakable swish of your robe sliding down your skin into a silk puddle on the floor.

Subject was located in the northeastern corridor.

Then he heard the mattress creak as you relaxed back onto the pillows.

Agent Romanoff deployed taser #6708 to effectively subdue subject.

And then he heard that faint, telltale buzzing.

He bought it for you last Valentine’s Day— a little something to keep you company while he was away. Silky smooth and lavender, he’d used it on you that night, made you come so many times that you were begging him for relief, swearing you couldn’t take anymore. But he just pushed his cock inside you and kept using it, so he could feel the vibrations, too.

And now you were using it to spite him.

The buzzing echoed in his ears, and he grit his teeth as his cock grew heavy, filling and swelling until it was straining against his jeans.

Subject was restrained and relocated to interrogation area.

The tiny hairs at the nape of his neck stood straight out when, almost so quietly that even he didn’t hear it, you gasped. That tiny little gasp when you touched the toy to your clit for the first time, overwhelmed by sensation, sent his heart rate through the roof and made his cock throb.

That was it, he couldn’t— he couldn’t— Bucky slammed the laptop shut and stood up, tried to keep his gait steady on his way to the bedroom despite how he wanted to sprint. He twisted the doorknob, but it nearly snapped off in his hand because the damn thing didn’t budge.

You had locked the fucking door.

“Open up, sweets,” he said, his low voice shaking slightly despite how he tried to level it.

“I’m busy—!” you called, and yeah, no shit, but Bucky’s heart pounded when your breathy voice was sucked up into a gasp—

He hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets, trying to stand firm, but he let out a sharp exhale and swayed slightly when the stretched fabric applied pressure against his cock. He instantly wanted to do it again, just a little stretch, but no— “Okay, honey, I get it, I’m sorry— now open the door.”

But you ignored him, the buzz differing in pitch as you worked over your clit in slow circles. He knew how you liked it, knew exactly what you were doing to make your heart rate speed and your toes wriggle against the sheets. And fuck, he should be the one doing that to you, not a stupid toy—

Maybe he should just unzip his jeans, pull himself out and stroke in time with your breaths. He knew what you felt like, could picture you perfectly. You’d sent him those videos all goddamn week, knowing he couldn’t do anything about how hard they made him. Some with the toy and some without, some fully nude, and one just of your face as you played with yourself under the band of your sleep shorts.

That video was the worst— best— most torturous one. Because he could almost see you underneath him, squirming and moaning so pretty while his hand did that to you. He leaned up close against the doorframe to listen to you.

You hummed, a deep, throaty sound, and he could find a key, probably. It had to be around here somewhere— a kitchen drawer, maybe.

“Sweetheart.”

You moaned his name in response, and maybe Bucky would just break the whole fucking door down instead.

He tried to growl your name, but it came out more like a whimper as he palmed at the front of his jeans. His voice broke slightly when he spoke again. “Please.”

A soft click, and the buzzing stopped. Yes. Bucky stood up tall, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he heard soft footsteps crossing the floor. You turned the lock, and the door swung open in front of him.

There you were. Better than any picture or video you could send, flushed and radiating heat, his eyes swept over the smooth expanse of your bare skin. But only for a moment, because he’d waited long enough— he grabbed you and barreled you backwards onto the bed. He landed on top of you gently, caging his arms around your head and supporting his weight on his elbows.

“You’re horrible, you know that?” he grumbled against your jaw. You just smiled cheekily and reached down to undo his jeans. You tugged them down just a bit, not enough, and traced your fingers along his boxer-clad length. His cock twitched, pressing into your palm, and you grinned wickedly.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you simpered. “You’re so hard. Was that because of me?”

He nodded against your shoulder and pushed his hips against your hand again. “God, I missed you,” he breathed against your neck.

“I missed you, too,” you said. “Did you like the videos?”

Of course he did, you knew that, but he didn’t have a chance to answer before you hooked your thumbs in his waistband and pushed his jeans and boxers out of the way. He kicked them off at the foot of the bed, trembling above you as you stroked him— gentle at first, your light touch moving slowly along his length. But you picked up speed, and no, this wasn’t teasing, wasn’t even foreplay anymore— you had a goal in mind. He squeezed his eyes shut and panted through his open mouth. Maybe it would be okay. He could come now, and with his super soldier recovery time he could just go down on you for a couple minutes and be ready to go again. He could come. He was gonna co—

“What the fuck,” he hissed. The heat, the pressure, the friction had abandoned him, leaving his cock twitching and dripping precum onto your belly. His eyes flew open to meet yours— he should’ve known, should’ve seen your wicked grin and the mischief in your eyes. You pushed him off of you, pressing at his shoulders until he was up on his knees between your legs. A fresh bead of precum drooled from his slit when he watched you lay back, pick up your vibrator again, and touch it softly to your clit.

“Like I said,” you breathed. “I’m busy.”

What the fuck. Was he supposed to—? Should he—? He could just do it, he could just wrap his right hand around his cock and give himself a few firm strokes, that’s all he’d need to make a mess all over your skin, paint that fucking vibrator white. You met his eyes and you knew, you could see him struggling, but your face scrunched up in pleasure—

No, no, no, you couldn’t do that— he’d waited this fucking long— he might just die if you came without him, just within reach but still not on his cock, fluttering and clenching around him—

“Baby, please— you can’t—” He couldn’t touch himself, he couldn’t touch you— he dug his fingers into his own thighs.

“I can’t what?” Your words were a challenge even as your muscles trembled. You lifted your legs slightly as your hips shifted against the vibrator, and Bucky could only stare down at your core and groan. So fucking wet, dripping a puddle onto the sheets— his eyes flew up to yours, his desperation clear across his face, and you smirked. “I can,” you said. “But I won’t. Get up here.”

Bucky was on you in an instant, kissing up your jaw until he captured your lips with his. His leaking cock slid against your thigh and shit, that was good, but this was better— you reached down and gripped him, rubbing his head slowly along your slit. You lined him up, but you hissed when his hips jerked forward on their own accord, pushing several inches into you.

“Fuck, m’sorry—” He winced and pressed his lips to your cheek, pausing for a moment. He was usually good about taking it slow, letting you acclimate to his size— the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. But you grit your teeth and dug your nails into the sides of his ass, pulling at him, urging him deeper.

“Oh— you’re— you’re desperate too— huh?” he panted above you, trying to tease but absolutely failing with how ragged his breaths were. He pushed in an inch at a time, each motion causing you to suck in your breath and squeeze your eyes shut, but a smile had formed on your lips.

He let out a long, low groan when he was fully sheathed inside of you. He was about to start moving, but—

“Shit,” he hissed, because he felt you flutter around him once, twice— “You close already, honey? Holy hell.” That vibrator was magic—

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you said, but then you whimpered. “Wanna come, Buck.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice— he fucked up into you, hard, quickly picking up a brutal pace. You didn’t try to restrain your moans as you tightened around him, and the pressure was blinding, squeezing him and quivering until—

“Oh, fuck.” He pushed in deep and froze as the pleasure washed over him. His cock pulsed the first hot spurt inside of you, and you cried out, clenching down around him. His hips found an unsteady rhythm, his feet pushing against the sheets to try to get even deeper inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you fighting to catch your breath. Bucky chuckled lowly against your neck, and you turned to murmur in his ear. “Welcome home,” you said.

But a loud noise made you both jump— Bucky’s phone was ringing in the living room. Bucky groaned but you shook your head, laughing— and he laughed too when you pressed both of your hands over his ears, to block out the sound, and kissed him. Nothing else mattered. Not right now.

if you enjoyed this fic, please reblog so others can find it!

2020, Better You 60 Day Challenge

At the beginning of 2020 I will be trying @psyduckstudies​‘s challenge, but with a few twists. Here are my 10 daily things.

I am going to:

Meditate - 🧘🏻‍♀️ every morning after waking up. For how long you want but it’s got to be noted and journaled

15-minute-clean-up - when you come home from school/work or at the end of the day, put a 15 minute timer and clean up as much as possible within that time period. This helps keep your environment clutter free and much more enjoyable.

Yoga 🤸‍♀️ - every day. Keep up the stretching and practice those new positions. It’ll pay off in the end.

Drink nothing but water and unsweetened tea ☕️ - we are cutting off the juice, the coffee, the alcohol, the soda! All of that is out (for 2 months, we got this) btw fruit smoothies don’t count as long as there is no juice in it! 

Gratitude journaling 📖 - write down the things you’re grateful for!

Self compliments 🥰 - who says you can’t compliment yourself. Tell yourself 3 things you love about yourself every day. It can be small, like how soft your earlobes are or bigger, like how kind you were for spending personal time helping someone in need!

Walk more 🚶‍♀️ - let’s be honest, it’s winter and all you want is to be in bed hibernating and you probably won’t do crazy workouts. But at least you can walk a little bit more instead of taking the bus or go out of the house just for the sake of taking a walk. It’s good for your mental health too.

Read! 📚 -try to read several pages a day. If you haven’t read in a long time, start with 15pgs a day of anything! Read webtoons or blogs and articles!

Say no ❌ - no more meaningless spending. No to inconvenience. No unnecessary hang outs with ppl ur not even close to. No to doing something that you really don’t want to do that you agreed to because you felt bad saying no!!!! None of that! Be selfish and do what you want.

Lastly, any goal that you feel like you need to work on in order to be the best you!!

I removed the “cold showers” because I honestly don’t think I will be able to do it and I will try cleaning up my room every day for at least 15 minutes.

And I also switched “learn something new” with “walk more” because at the beginning of the month I have almost a month filled with exams so there is plenty to learn for them already, I don’t think it’s reasonable for my schedule to try to fit something new right now. But I think walking more is going to be pretty good for myself because when it’s exam time I tend to stay in at my desk or in bed the whole time without seeing the daylight which is so bad and makes me feel pretty awful. 

My 10th goal is “get enough sleep” 🌙 It’s hard with so many exams coming up but just try to do your best, you know your mind is so much clearer when you’re well rested. Take advantage of that. 

Also, I don’t think that missing a day with 10 habits to check during exam period is that bad, so I won’t be starting all over. Actually I think that what could work better for me is to apply the next rule : “You cannot skip a habit for more than two days in a row”. I think it’s fair enough… 

I hope that you take the time and energy for the 1st 60 days of the new year and join me in this challenge. We can hold each other accountable!

Last but not least, let’s give  @psyduckstudies credit one more time for coming up with this cool challege. And good luck everybody!

What do you want to read?

Here’s some frequently used HYBB tags:

(Mod note: if you want to narrow down your search by Bucky/pairing, please add the ship name you’re looking for to your own key word search!) These links take you to HYBB wordpress.

-

Meeting for the first time:

#meet cute

#meet awkward

#first meetings

Already met:

#established couple

#canon fic  or  #canon divergence

-

Light and fun themes:

#rom com

#humor

#fluff

#love confessions

#domestic fluff

-

Angsty themes:

#identity porn

#pining

#hurt comfort

#light angst

#angst with a happy ending

#angst with a hopeful ending  or  #hopeful ending

-

Some of these may overlap a bit with a couple fics. Remember, if you want a more specific search, just enter in the key words to the search. For example type in “bucky hurt comfort” or “rarepair hurt comfort”, and so on.

-

Want to read less graphic themes? Check out:

#gen rated

#rated t

#implied bottom bucky

#implied sexual content

#rated m

-

For smuttier themes check out:

#bottom bucky barnes

#sub bucky barnes

#power bottom bucky

#pwp

-

Want to browse more? this post shows you how.

Don’t forget to use HYBB on wordpress if tumblr doesn’t bring up tags (esp the more graphic tags!). The full HYBB archive is on wordpress, here.

-HYBB

IMAGINE HIM PUTTING THAT RING AROUND A CHAIN AND GIVING IT TO YOU THO

HIS FUCKING INITIALS???!!!??!?????? THATS SO DAMN SEXY ITS A FUCKING FALLS DOWN THERE KITTY IS ROARING

😫😫😫

Keep your eyes on the road (aka an unexpected sex pollen adventure)

Summary: Honestly, this is what Bucky gets for not listening to you.

Characters: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ only. Oral sex while driving, sex pollen, sex in a car, bad language, Bucky desperately needing to bang. Also please do not try to replicate this unless you are in fact with a super soldier who has super reflexes, as blow jobs while driving should probably be attempted by super people. 

A/N: Is this really my first time writing sex pollen? Yes it is. Is Bucky being needy and desperate kinda fun? Yes it is. Did I enjoy writing this? Yes I most certainly did. I hope you enjoy it too. ;)

*****

The thing is, you told him you didn’t feel like coming on this mission.

And you told him not to open that container with the giant blood red skull on it. 

And you told him to to wear a mask.

And you told him to let you drive, but he shouted something about you being a passenger princess before unceremoniously shoving you in the getaway car.

So yeah. You told him all these things.

The thing is, Bucky fumes, glaring at the swerve of headlights advancing in his rearview mirror - he really needs to learn how to fucking listen.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” He slams the accelerator to the floor and the car gives a sickening lurch. Beside him, you crack your head on the window, trying to buckle your seatbelt and swearing at the top of your lungs. 

“Bucky what the hell’s the matter with you? Just drive.” 

“I’m trying,” he snaps. He can feel the flushing prickle of sweat beading down his neck. Rubbing a shaking hand down his face, he blows out a harsh breath. “Why in god’s name is the heater on? Turn that shit off, I’m burning up over here.”

Craning your neck, you watch the headlights gaining. Fumbling for the Glock taped under the seat, you shoot him a confused look. 

“The heater isn’t on, it’s freezing in here. I told Steve to fix it and he ignored me because he's a giant asshole.”

Eyes locked on the road, Bucky reaches blindly for the window handle, hurriedly rolling it down. A blast of cold air rushes through the car and he gulps in relief.

“Better, much better,” he mutters. He squints into the rearview mirror again, mentally calculating the time between headlights and taillights, when he feels a twisting wrench in his chest. It sends bursts of heat skimming under his skin, snagging every nerve along the way. A panicked whine slips through clenched teeth. Alarmed, you turn back and meet his wild eyes, sweat now pouring down his face.   

“What the - what’s wrong? Bucky? Talk to me!” 

When you grab his arm, he visibly recoils. 

“No no no, don’t touch me, don’t - ah holy fuck, don’t touch me. If you do, I can’t - I’m gonna put the car in the ditch.” 

“You’re scaring me Bucky, what is this?”

He says nothing, deep in thought as his brain runs through the mission on warp speed, trying to identify something, anything, that could possibly -

Wait.

Oh.

Crap.

It's like a sucker punch when he realizes.

“The gold dust that flew out of that container, did any of it touch you?”

“You mean the one I told you not to open but you did it anyway because you can’t follow directions? Bucky what is wrong, you need-“

“Answer me,” he snarls. In the dashboard glow, you see his face pale. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus. “Sorry, sorry, just - please answer. Did any of it get on your skin?”

Baffled, you shake your head.

“No. None of it touched me, it just hit you.” 

Bucky nods, relieved. 

“Good, okay. Okay. Think I know what this is,” he grits out. Another shudder wracks his body and he grips the steering wheel so hard it squeals in protest. “HRNE-75.”

Your response is a blank stare.

“Am I supposed to know what random letters and numbers mean?”

“It’s a stimulant.” 

“Like caffeine?”

“No, like a drug.” You can hear him breathing faster. “Like a - like an aphrodisiac.”

Still a blank stare.

“What kind of aphrodisiac?”

“People call it sex pollen,” he says flatly. “It makes you horny. Like - really fucking horny. And it hurts like hell unless you do something about it.”

“Well, okay. We’ll figure that out when we get home, but for now - “

“I can’t - I don’t think I can wait until we get home,” he interrupts. Sweat soaks the collar of his shirt and he shifts uncomfortably, glancing down. Following his gaze, you can see his cock straining against his jeans. 

“Jesus Christ. Bucky if you’re in pain, just pull over and let me drive, you can jerk off in the backseat.”

“We don’t have time to pull over, that fucker’s right behind us and if we don’t get us past Steve’s stupid check point, we’re gonna lose him and then the whole mission is wasted and I got sprayed by some bullshit horny dust for no reason and I’m sweating so much right now and I think I’m going to throw up, my dick hurts so fucking bad!” 

His voice reaches an hysterical pitch and you press your lips together, choking down the laughter. 

“Okay okay, I got it. So if you come, does that stop the pain?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t matter,” his shoulders slump miserably. “We can’t stop yet and I can’t jerk off and drive at the same time. Maybe under normal circumstances I could do it, I mean sure I have done that before because sometimes I get bored driving, but I just don’t have that kind of focus right now baby, I don’t.” 

Tremors are rattling through his entire body now, as he fights for control. As he shifts his hips, unconsciously searching for some kind of friction to offer relief, an idea pops into your brain.     

“Hey. Let me give you road head.” 

His hands slip on the wheel and he double-takes. 

“Wha - road head? Like - what does that mean? Like you’d give me a blow job? While I’m driving?”

If this were any other situation, you would tease him mercilessly for the way his voice squeaks, but you smother the urge. Plenty of time for that later.   

“Of course. If it helps.”

“But you mean, you’re going to suck my dick? While I’m driving?”

“Love the emphasis on the important words. Yes, I’m going to suck your dick, while you’re driving.”

Bucky bats the idea around, debating whether you’re actually serious and whether he is probably definitely going to drive down a highway at - he checks the speedometer - 145 miles per hour, while you suck his dick. Another wave of heat roils through him and he stifles a groan. Glancing at your expectant face, he gives a shaky nod.

“You’re sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you unbuckle your seatbelt and scoot closer to him.

“It’s not a hardship Buck. You know I’m your dick’s number one fan.” Carefully popping the button on his jeans, you tug down his zipper and he pushes up his hips, struggling to help. The slight pressure on his aching cock already has him whimpering. “Just drive careful, alright? If I die because you wreck Steve’s car while I’m sucking your dick, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Bucky breathes. “Careful. Sure. Whatever you say.”

Grasping him firmly, you lower your head and take his dick all the way down in one smooth move.

“Oh my fucking god,” he shouts, eyes fluttering. “Sweet shit that’s good!” 

He keeps one hand in a death grip on the wheel, while he places the other against the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place. Bobbing up and down, your tongue strokes along the ridges of his cock and you feel him swelling impossibly thicker. Tightening your lips, you suck hard, dragging slowly up  and he croaks out a garbled plea.   

“Keep going, keep going, please keep going.” Beneath your practiced mouth, his entire body begins to vibrate and he grips the back of your neck tight, chanting desperately. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, holy fuck, I’m gonna come.”

He thrusts up, holding your head tight as he comes down your throat. When your fingers scratch along his thigh, his foot inadvertently pushes the accelerator harder. The car climbs to 155 miles per hour and above you, the sound of ragged panting fills the car. 

Releasing his dick with a soft lick, you look up and Bucky chokes at the sight of your spit slick, swollen lips curving into a smile.

“That was fast. Feel better?”

He breathes a whispered yes, but you can still see the red flush still spreading down his neck. He swallows hard and grimaces.  

“Helped. Definitely helped. Still hurts, but better,” he says faintly and you see his cock is still rock hard. “It’s okay, it’s enough for now, I appreciate the - “

Rolling your eyes, you lean down and take him back in your mouth. Slipping a hand between his legs, your fingers carefully cup the heavy weight of his balls, squeezing gently. The rest of his sentence fades, melting into a rush of fervent praise.

A luscious ache settles in your belly, feeding off the hot desire you feel sparking through him, at the filthy words you hear him whispering above you. If you weren’t driving down a pitch black highway at a completely inappropriate speed, you’d consider reaching down to take care of yourself, but since you’re already flouting the most basic rules of automotive safety, you figure you should keep your hands on Bucky’s balls instead.

Of course, that doesn’t stop you from rubbing your thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure. 

Bucky glances over at your movement, a deep growl rumbling in his chest at the sight. He didn’t think anything could make him harder at this point, but the image of you so turned on by giving him a blow job, does the trick. He grinds his teeth, dangerously close to just pulling over and saying fuck this ridiculous mission. Rubbing his hand between your flexing shoulder blades and slowly bobbing head, his rasping voice carves into you.

“Does this make you feel good? Doin’ this for me? Fuck me, wish I could help you out right now. You’re so damn good to me baby. Moment we stop this car, I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

With his dick buried deep in your throat, your enthusiastic hum of agreement vibrates deliciously and he struggles to keep his eyes on the road. Everything feels incredible. Your tongue curling around the head of his cock, sucking gently on the tip, before sliding back down. The way you swallow around him, the squeeze of your throat, so hot and slick and tight. It feels so god damn good and he’s close again, one more second - 

The transmitter sitting in the console squawks to life, an ear piercing siren shocking you both from the lust fueled haze. You jerk off Bucky’s dick in a panic and he nearly screeches at the loss. Scrabbling with the device, he smashes the green TALK button.

“What?! What the fuck do you need, I’m busy.”

“Calm down there, speed racer,” comes Steve’s breezy voice. “Just letting you know we pulled the guy over. Turn around and come back so we can - “

Steve’s voice is abruptly silenced when Bucky crushes the transmitter with an easy squeeze of vibranium fingers. He flings the shattered splinters of plastic into the back seat and slams both feet on the brakes. The car fishtailes across the road, before skidding to a stop in a spray of gravel. Throwing it into park, he flips the lever under his seat and slides back with a mechanical thunk. Scrambling to pull his pants down all the way, he spreads his legs wide and takes his dick in hand. His eyes are dark, blown black when he turns to you.

“We’re safe. Get your pants off and get over here. Now.” he barks. 

Grinning at him, you tug on your tac pants, shimmying easily from the stretchy black fabric and clambering into his lap. There is no pretense. Bucky lines himself up and yanks you down, filling your cunt in one rough thrust. You’re so wet, he slides in easy. 

“God, Bucky,” you hiss. “That feels so good.”

He tugs on your shirt, pulling everything off until your breasts are bared. His mouth finds a nipple, teeth gently scrapping and tugging, greedily sucking the sensitive peak between his lips. He moves your hips faster, lifting and dragging you down on his cock over and over, until he jerks you down one final time, slams his head against the seat and comes with a long, guttural moan. Deep inside, you feel him pulsing over and over, until you can feel it dripping down your thighs, hot and sticky. 

Head tipped back, he struggles to catch his breath and you can see his heartbeat jumping wildly at his throat. When he finally opens his eyes to meet your questioning stare, you can see.

His eyes are still dark. 

“Need more?” You smile gently, smoothing sweaty hair from his forehead.

He swallows hard and then nods slowly.  

Rocking your hips, you grind down on him and lean in for a deep kiss, sliding your tongue against his. Bucky gives a shuddering sigh, sinking back into the feel of your body rolling against his. Warm hands stroke lightly down your spine and you can feel the thick, heavy weight of him growing hard again between your legs. But waring with the pleasure, a nervous tension seems to grip him.

“Bucky. I’m not made of glass,” you admonish. Licking delicately along his earlobe, he mumbles a string of apologies and your lips trail down his neck, pressing a kiss against that fluttering heartbeat. “You won’t hurt me, I promise. Use me however you need. Make yourself feel good. Just make me come before you’re done. Deal?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he says, shivering uncontrollably at the heady combination of your cool breath and fiery words. “I can do that. ‘Course I’ll do that.”

His hands slide up your back and hook over your shoulders, his fingers splayed over your collarbone. He holds your body firmly in place, thrusting up into you and simultaneously rocking your hips forward. The angle is perfect and you moan at the feel, dizzy with desire as his cock rubs that spot inside just right. 

The sounds filling the car are purely pornographic. Wet skin slapping, Bucky grunting with every hard snap of his hips. The feel of his calloused fingertips stroking up your belly, between your breasts, pressing divots into your skin. He stares up at you, his eyes heavy and hooded and utterly adoring, relishing the sight of you grinding your pussy against him. His hand slips between your legs, stroking over your clit, rubbing fast tight circles. He smugly drinks down the breathless gasps he coaxes from you.   

“Bucky, I think - I think I’m - ”

The words falter when your hand slams into the car roof and your head falls back, eyes drifting closed. Lust slaps him hard as he watches you come, writhing above him, your voice cracking when you moan out his name again and again.  

“That's it, there you go baby,” he whispers roughly. The vision is breathtaking. Stunning. He figures maybe he could get used to sex pollen and a perpetually aching dick if it means he gets to see you like this.

He was already close (again), but the pure pleasure in your face is enough to knock him over the edge. He buries his face between your breasts, pinching your nipple and licking over your skin and your fingers tangle in his damp hair. You hold him tight as he gasps out your name, emptying himself inside you one more time.

And this time, finally, you can feel some of the spring tight tension disappear. His skin is still hot, but the shivers begin to diminish. Rough hands still grip your hips, but it feels controlled. The manic lust begins to fade, leaving a smoldering fire in his chest.   

Bucky tips a weary head back and meets your amused expression. A smile tugs the corner of his lips and he shakes his head. 

“God damn,” he sighs.

Scratching your nails lazily along his scalp, he leans into your touch, humming like a contented, if slightly feral, kitten. 

“Feel better?”

“So much better,” he murmurs. “Sorry that went completely sideways. Wasn’t really expecting that. Obviously enjoyed it, but still. Unexpected adventure.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead you laugh.

“Next time, maybe don’t open the can with the giant red skull on it. Deal?”

“Deal.”

A comfortable silence settles. Bucky trails his fingers down your arms and you eye him thoughtfully.

“So, do you think they’ll come looking for us?”

“Maybe. Eventually. What should we do while we wait?”

There is a moments pause. And then you begin to roll your hips against him again and Bucky feels the electricity flare to life once more.

“We keep going.”

*****

yesssiirrr

im literally laughing so hard

Ships with height differences. Reblog if you agree