For All You Writers Out There:

stop focusing on logic ⋆ ˚｡𖦹⋆｡°✩

literally regardless of the 3d, you will always get what you want. you think about how it will come to be in the 3d, by using what? by using LOGIC.

for example, you want a car but your trying to make sense of the how in a logical way like -> "how will i afford this car?" or "how will i possibly manifest a car just outta thin air?"

yes humans in our time and age in this society are born into logistical thinking but part of understanding the law is knowing that you are beyond that logic that was taught to you.

trying to make what you want "make sense" in the 3d is centered around logic and it's an issue. if you want that car or that sp, stop thinking logically about how empty your wallet is or about that 3p. just be the version of you that has it already. apply. how do you know if someone will gift you that car or if you will win some kind of lotto and use it to buy the car? how do you know if that sp was thinking about you the whole time regardless of the 3p or that they were already broken up regardless of what you saw or heard?

how do you know you will just wake up and it will all appear? the thing is: you dont know (unless you manifest the how) and thats the interesting part. logic is probably telling you that it cant happen. logic is not something that you should hold onto regarding the law.

the "how" never matters. your job is knowing its yours and knowing the 3d is always neutral. the "how" is the 3d's concern not yours. its perfectly fine imagining the how if you want to but for people trying to manifest shit while doubting if it will happen because of logic... stop. logic is nothing but limits.

you can imagine anything, you can be anything, you are imagination, you are limitless

you be someone who has it and its done. stop obsessing over a copy machine that literally copies self no matter what.

be that version of self = 3d expresses that (always the law)

even when you see something you dont like in the 3d, logic starts to kick in and tell you that what you want could never come into play, causing doubts.

example: you want that cute bag -> you see you have no money or they are all sold out in your area -> logic says: “theres no way i can get it now bc of these circumstances” -> you doubt you will get it -> now you’re in this victim state and you logic will only keep you there until you break free from it

just know that the 3d and logic are irrelevant. literally anytime i manifest something and i see the opposite of what i want, i just continue being the version of me who has what they want and the 3d always ends up doing a complete 360 and showing me what i want. if logic tells you no, you have the control, not anything else.

“how do you keep being this version of you when the 3d shows you the opposite?” -> actually fulfill yourself & know everything starts w you. do you want it or not? give it to yourself & there it is.

let go of logic because you will always get what you want when you change self instead of chasing reasons of how it will appear.

who are you BEING? forget the logic. just be what you want.

kisses, jani ☆

and funnily enough I found exactly what I needed

EMOTIONS ARE FLEETING, FACT IS FOREVER ⋆.˚ 𓆉

all that matters is the life you choose as fact.

I just wanted to remind you that your emotions don’t determine anything. Fuck 3D proof, YOU ARE the person that has everything they want. YOU ARE the top priority, YOU ARE all that is. There is no one above YOU.

Some of you get this rush of excitement about living your dream lives all for it to come crashing down, and then you’re in a slump, doomscrolling on tumblr looking for things you already know about. Looking for refreshers when YOU ARE knowledge. And then you feel icky, because you feel like you’re wasting time feeling like shit when you should be locking in.

And to that i say:

emotions are fleeting.

Whether you feel like crap today, maybe due to circumstances. Whether you feel frustrated. Whether you feel this sense of extreme happiness. It doesn’t matter. Emotions pass. Whatever you are feeling shall pass. The only constant thing is you, and what you decide to be fact.

Emotions don’t manifest, you can feel like shit and still induce the void state. You can be depressed and still affirm your away into your dream life. You don’t have to keep your emotions at a 10 every second of the day to achieve your dreams, because emotions are something you feel in the sense of your outerman.

YOU ARE all that is. YOU ARE every emotion there is. The outerman only focuses on one emotion at a time. Don’t let that sway you.

Before I manifested my dream life, I equated what I was feeling with my ability to manifest. If I felt demotivated it meant I was stuck right back in my circumstances. I had to get rid of that attitude because no matter what I felt, it was already done, I already had everything. Emotions weren’t permanent but my awareness was, and as long as I chose to resonate with the new story no matter how shitty life felt, then I was there and it was done. That’s how I did it, I chose my new story again and again even when I wasn’t feeling on top of the world and even when I was feeling like some all powerful entity.

Enough with looking for the motivational posts, the ones that make it “click” on how powerful you are. You don’t need them. You already know, you don’t always have to feel it. Those posts give you motivation that lasts about 2 days. And then you’re back, because again, emotions, whether good or bad are fleeting, ever changing, fluctuating, whatever. That feeling of omnipotence will become constant when you realise that no matter what you feel, it’s already and always done for you.

All I had to do was think in my favour and choose the life I wanted, and emotions were nothing to me.

And stop giving in to your outer man’s wants. Your outerman may feel unworthy and unmotivated and will then need for things to “click” which is why you scroll tirelessly and hound bloggers for advice. And that’s why you run in circles from feeling on top of the world and like you can actually do this to, “why hasn’t it worked”. And some of you have been running in that circle for years and will continue to do so if you keep denying your new identity just because you feel bad.

Choose to live in the facts you create and emotions won’t matter anymore

The emotions you feel now are just as real as the ones you will feel when you manifest your desired life.

So whether you feel a sense of joy, anger, nostalgia or a sense of impending doom, just know they are fleeting, they won’t last and aren’t important unless you make them. YOU ARE the only constant thing. So rely on that. Rely on your mind. Not what you decide to feel today

tell yourself:

“I AM NOT MY EMOTIONS, I AM ONE WHO HAS IT ALL, NO MATTER WHAT”

You are the only trustworthy thing, not the things you feel.

EMOTIONS CANT ASSIST OR SABOTAGE YOU, THEY ARE EVERCHANGING

777 noted at reblog

manifesting is not about bringing your desires to you or into your reality. manifesting is about you giving yourself the capability to realize that it is already in your reality. since your beliefs and your perception stop you from realizing that, it requires you to alter those beliefs. this means being aware of the beliefs that do not serve you. if you are not aware of those beliefs or perceptions, how will you change them? how can you change something you are not aware of?

manifestation is the process of giving yourself the ability to realize and perceive that it is already here. you do not have to do any magical things to make it come into existence. it is already existent, already within your sphere of reality. it is just that your belief system makes it invisible to you. ♱ bashar (darryl anka)

your desires are already existing in your reality. they are real and already solidified. they are just waiting for you to match their vibrations by enabling yourself to know, realize, and perceive that they are in your physical reality. stop yourself from wanting to know the "how" as that is never your job. it can happen in countless ways, ways a human mind cannot perceive. your job is to realize them.

such a tease

The Job

A Spy’s Motivation

Economic Espionage (2)

Espionage (2)

Espionage Rant

How do spies operate?

How Spies Work

Modern Espionage

On Spies

Recruiting Spies

Spies

True Psychology of the Insider Spy

What is espionage?

Tradecraft

Basic Spy Tradecraft

Codewords (2)

Top 10 Spy Tactics

12 Corporate Espionage Tactics

15 Spy Concealments

37 Industrial Espionage Techniques

5 Techniques of the Soviet Union

6 New Spy Technologies

Other

The Encyclopedia of Espionage, Intelligence, and Security

Ethics, Espionage, and Covert Action

International Spy Museum

Opinions and Essays on Modern Espionage

Real Spies (documentary)

Secrets of the CIA (documentary)

World War II Manual

Best reminders

its so easy to stay where you are most comfortable and where you are used to being - in negative states.

something i realized i used to do a lot when i first understood the law/states: i used to know i had to change self but i still spent days in the same negative state without taking the effort to apply. understanding the knowledge is one thing but actually applying can take a push.

applying the law is not "work" but at the same time everything depends on YOU to change and that change might take a push or some effort since some of us (especially ppl new to the law), are so used to being in a negative state which becomes comfortable and our dwelling state.

this makes it SEEM "harder" to manifest when in fact all you have to do is take the lead and change self. you have to realize that life is literally only a reflection of SELF. you feel shitty everyday bc thats what version of self you are being.

if youre thinking bullshit like "ill do it later" when talking about applying the law, you are failing to realize that you are ALWAYS applying the law. you are only failing to apply it in a way that benefits you which is self sabotage. stop leaving yourSELF last & CHANGE SELF NOW!

imagine being in a state for months or years where you believe youre ugly and successful. ofc you become comfortable in that state since youve been accepting/being that version of you for so long. this doesnt mean its hard to change states if youve been in a negative state for so long. again, this means it SEEMS hard to change, but its NOT. realize everything is only a state and everything is up to you! you being SELF! you are not your state! you are only occupying states! theres nothing to "reprogram"! theres no need to work on limiting beliefs!

to be comfortable in your ideal state, you have to be uncomfortable & get tf out of that negative state u are so used to being in. stop w the "ill do it later" & make sure ur actually applying the law to ur advantage be u complain about ur life while not being the change u need.

take the effort to CHANGE. use techniques to your advantage and HAVE FUN w them! KNOW your power and know everything changes once YOU change. idc if it SEEMS hard... change self. idc if you feel lazy... change self.

when are you going to take control of your life and yourSELF instead of staying comfortable in old, negative states? is SELF in control of your life or these states? are you willing to get uncomfortable by occupying the state that benefits you for the change you look for?

ofc when you start to change self/states, it can feel weird and uncomfortable but it WILL become your new COMFORTABLE. stop waiting for shit to change when the only thing that needs change is SELF. take control of your life and apply the law to your advantage NOW!

kisses, jani ☆

In its own special way, The Umbrella Academy subverts the secret identity trope in that Sir Reginald literally raises the protagonists as their superhero identities, assigning them exclusively superhero-esque aliases from birth and stripping them of the opportunity to develop their own “civilian”/true identity. As a result of this suppression, their struggles as young “superheroes” differ from the crises of their traditional counterparts, in that they don’t struggle to hide a secret identity, but rather, they don’t have an identity outside of the one their father uses to fulfill his own agenda — or at best, their individuality is stunted and tied to an unhealthy coping mechanism and sibling dynamics. The subversion of the secret identity trope thus leads to the subversion of another trope: that of the superhero origin story. Unlike Spider-Man or Batman, the Umbrella Academy kids are not civilians that decided to become heroes due to a personal tragedy; instead, their childhood career as forced superheroes is the tragedy, causing most of them to pursue a civilian life as soon as they are able to. Only after the death of their father do they come back together, and even then, their past causes the conflict that they must solve as adults. In this essay I will

Day 6: Menstruation - Bucky

Kinktober Day 6: Menstruation - Bucky x f!reader

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut,  soft beefy!bucky, fluff, comfort, dirty talk, shower sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood description, sensitive, nicknames, no use of y/n

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link

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credits for the images:

letstalkpalestine

only for him 〈deleted scene〉

a/n: someone commented on this fic on ao3 the other day and i remembered i had a whole LONG scene that i never included. this was actually the first thing i wrote for the fic but it didn't feel right so i started from scratch and didn't end up incorporating it. so uh please enjoy some pwp bucky smut i guess!!!

pairing: brother's best friend!bucky barnes x reader

summary: when you crash your brother and his friends' beach vacation, things get a little messy, but your brother's best friend bucky barnes is determined to take—and keep—what's his

warnings (for deleted scene only): 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, fingering, dirty talk, some degradation, almost getting caught/talk of getting caught, nicknames (angel, baby)

word count (for deleted scene only): 3.3k

-

“Hey angel.”

You’d always been shy around your older brother’s best friend Bucky Barnes—and that weekend at your family’s beach house was no different. So when he swaggered into the kitchen wearing nothing more than some low-slung swim trunks, all you could do was stumble out a response to his greeting while your heart pitter-pattered at the pet name, “H-hi, Bucky.”

You winced at the hitch in your breath, but you couldn’t help it, he was just so hot. With those icy blue eyes, that sharp jaw covered in rough stubble, and the way his lips curled up at the edges like he was always smirking, you’d had a crush on him for years. You’d never really been able to look him in the eye and you’d avoided him as much as you could, for fear of making an idiot out of yourself in front of him.

In true form, you focused on chopping veggies for the salad to go along with the burgers your brother was grilling, while pretending to ignore Bucky as he moved around the kitchen, finding his own ingredients for margaritas. You were all too aware that you were only wearing a swimsuit, but you knew it would be weird if you stopped what you were doing to get a coverup as soon as he’d entered the kitchen.

To your surprise, Bucky’s hands kept grazing your body—his palm pressed to your lower back as he moved behind you even though there was plenty of room, his fingers squeezed your shoulder, his hand ran down your spine on another pass, making your shoulders shake slightly with a shiver. The longer it went on, the bolder he got, until his knuckles grazed over the curve of your ass. You squeaked and pressed against the island, squeezing your thighs against the ache between them, Bucky’s low chuckle the only evidence he’d noticed your reaction. 

It never even crossed your mind to call him out on his inappropriate touches—you didn’t want him to stop, you secretly wanted more. You wondered, if you didn’t say anything, how far he would take things. Would his touches grow even bolder? The thought made your center throb and you pressed your thighs together more firmly.

When it came time for Bucky to cut up some limes for his margaritas, he tossed them down on the counter beside you.“You don’t mind helping me with these, do you, angel?” he asked. When you dared a look up at his face, his lower lip was jutted out in a pout.

You shook your head, but then worried he’d misinterpret the gesture, so you smiled and kept your eyes averted. “Happy to help,” you whispered, snagging a lime and getting ready to slice it.

But then you felt Bucky behind you, pressing close. His chest was flush with your back, knees bent, his thick thighs bracketing your legs. His stubbled jaw grazed your temple as he looked over your shoulder and his arms went around your waist. His big hands settled on your much smaller ones, helping you grip the knife firmly and hold the lime steady.

You were anything but steady. Drawing in a sharp breath, almost a gasp, at the feel of Bucky invading your personal space, you tried not to let on how good it felt to have his bigger body wrapped around you, the warmth of his skin against yours. But of its own volition, your body melted in his hold, your eyelids sliding shut as you reveled in the way your skin tingled everywhere he was touching you—and he was touching so much of you.

Bucky tutted quietly, right in your ear, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. “How’re you gonna help me with your eyes closed, angel?” he asked, his tone mocking as he teased you.

You wrenched your eyes open and forced yourself to look down at the sight in front of you—Bucky’s large hands wrapped around your much smaller ones. “H-how is this helping?” you asked, your voice breathless and a little meek.

Bucky chuckled and you felt it rumble in his chest through your shoulder blades. The pleasant sensation warmed your chest and made even more heat settle in your core. “You’re making me feel good, baby—and the better I feel, the better the margaritas are gonna taste,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, his hands using yours to slice the lime into wedges. “Trust me.”

Your brain was fuzzy as you got more and more distracted by the way your body responded to Bucky’s words, your slit getting wetter the longer he was pressed against you, but you didn’t follow his logic and you couldn’t help but point it out. “That doesn’t make any sense,” you said, even as your body relaxed further into Bucky’s hold, letting his sure hands and strong arms guide your movements.

Bucky just laughed again, his knees bending just a bit more before he dragged back up your body. You gasped when his hard bulge settled between the cheeks of your ass—only the thin fabric of your swimsuits separating you. Experimentally, your hips wiggled, grinding your ass on his bulge and he groaned, his whole body going taut around you as his hands stilled.

“Lookit you, baby,” Bucky huffed in your ear, pressing his hard length deeper into the crevice of your ass. “So fucking needy and I’ve barely touched you.” 

You mewled quietly, head leaning back on Bucky’s shoulder, your back arching a perfect curve to keep your ass nestled against his cock. He felt so good, you never wanted him to stop.

“Do any of your brother’s other friends know what a needy little slut you are, baby?” he asked softly in your ear, hips rocking against your ass in small movements. “Would Steve or Tony be shocked if they walked in right now to see you rubbing your ass on my cock, or have they caught you before?”

“N-nooo,” you answered, heat spiraling through your body at the dirty way Bucky talked to you.

“So you’re a secret slut then, huh,” Bucky hummed in thought, the vibration teasing over your skin. “Those are my favorite kind,” he admitted, his voice gruff. His hands let go of yours, trailing up your arms and down your sides, making you shiver beneath the heat of his palms as he went on. “The girls who are so shy they can barely meet your eye,” he punctuated his words but pressing a kiss to your temple and you knew he’d noticed how shy you got around him. The heat of your blush mingled with the heat of your desire. “But when you show them some attention, when you make them feel special, they spread their legs like the good little sluts they really are.”

Leaning back into your brother’s best friend, you shot a look to the sliding door that led onto the back deck of the house. Just beyond, you could hear your brother and the rest of his friends talking loudly. “Bucky, w-we sh-shouldn’t,” you tried to say, but cut off on a gasp when his hands slid over your thighs, thumbs grazing along the edge of your swimsuit.

“I know, baby,” he murmured softly, continuing to run his hands all over your body like he was learning the feel of your curves and committing them to memory. “You don’t want anyone else to know your secret, but it would be so mean of me to get you all worked up and not make you cum, don’t you think?”

You could barely think through the haze of desire clouding your mind, and your pulse drummed a frantic beat in your clit as your body begged for more, for release. You panted, unable to form a word of response as you simply basked in the feel of him, but he wanted an answer.

Bucky pinched your nipple through your swimsuit top, pleasure and pain zipping through your body straight to your clit. “I asked you a question, baby,” he said pointedly. “I expect a response.”

“I-I-I don’t know,” you forced out, forgetting the question and unable to tell him what he wanted to hear to make sure he didn’t stop touching you.

He hummed in thought again, his lips pressed to the pulse point in your neck so you felt it, making you squirm in his arms. You leaned forward, arching your back more so that Bucky’s cock pressed against your soaked little slit through your bottoms. He hissed at the contact.

“Such a slut, baby,” he commented, awe in his tone. “Lookit how your body moves for me—bending over, pressing your pussy against my fat cock. You’re a perfect little slut.” His free hand ran down your spine before he leaned forward so his chest pressed to your back again and he could murmur in your ear. “Are you dripping wet for me baby?”

You bit your lip and nodded, answering his question the only way you knew how when words escaped you.

“Is your pussy clenching, wishing I was stretching your tight little hole around my cock right now?” he asked, fingers trailing down your sides to tug on either side of your swimsuit bottoms where they hugged your hips. At his words, your inner walls responded by clamping down on nothing, making you cry out quietly. Bucky laughed into your hair before he pressed another kiss to your temple, which was covered with a sheen of sweat. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll fill up your slutty little hole,” he promised in that rough and raspy voice of his, desire dripping from his tone.

Just then, the sliding door to the deck whooshed open and your brother’s friend Steve Rogers stepped inside. Your body reacted on instinct, straightening up and pulling away from Bucky as much as you could, your heart racing and your breaths coming in panicked little pants. But when you looked up, Steve was shouting over his shoulder at the rest of the guys on the deck, seemingly unaware of what he’d walked in on. 

In the brief moment before Steve turned to the kitchen, Bucky rearranged himself behind you—close enough to hide the obscene bulge in his swim trunks, but pulling back so he was no longer plastered to your body. His hands settled on yours and he guided your shaking fingers to slice up a lime into wedges. You were thankful for his solid hands on yours because you were trembling like a leaf at the prospect of being caught by another of your brother’s friends.

“And that’s how you cut a lime for a margarita,” Bucky said with a flourish, as if he were finishing a whole spiel. You felt the moment he looked up, because his whole body went taut with tension. “Hey Stevie, the margs will be ready soon, just showing Y/N how it’s done.”

“I see that,” Steve said in a slow suspicious voice as he drew closer until he stood on the opposite side of the island.

When you looked back at him, you caught Steve’s blue eyes taking in the way Bucky was caging you in against the kitchen island. It certainly wasn’t the most innocent way for the two of you to be standing, and you were pretty sure if any of your brother’s other friends had offered to teach you how to cut limes, they wouldn’t be wrapped around you the way Bucky was. But it also wasn’t as inappropriate as the way Bucky had held you and talked to you just moments prior.

“You alright?” Steve asked, looking you in the eye.

Bucky took the opportunity of Steve’s focus on you to turn away, going to the sink and washing his hands with his back to you and Steve.

Steve looked concerned and suspicious, but while you appreciated him looking out for you, you just wanted him to leave so Bucky could touch you again. With effort, you relaxed your shoulders and plastered a cheery smile on your face. “Yep!” you chirped. “I’m gonna finish up the salad as soon as we get these limes done.”

Steve nodded his head absently as his eyes bounced back and forth between you and Bucky. “Well, alright,” he said slowly, before pinning Bucky with a hard stare. “Don’t take too long, I just came inside to tell you both the burgers are almost done.” Then he was backing away and opening the door, returning to the raucous laughter of your brother’s friends. When the door whooshed closed, the kitchen seemed all the quieter for the lack of noise.

Then Bucky was at your back again, his hands frantic as they roamed all over your body. It felt like he was everywhere at once and you were quickly overwhelmed by the sensations. A loud moan tumbled past your lips and Bucky’s hand slapped over your mouth as he bent his knees and pressed his cock against your ass. He held you against him with his hand covering your mouth, quieting your sounds of pleasure.

“Shh,” Bucky mumbled, his voice urgent. “You moan loud like that and Steve will hear you,” he warned, but he didn’t stop touching you, his free hand wandering to your chest and groping your tits. “He’ll hear what a little slut you are and you don’t want that, do you, baby?” 

You shook your head as much as you could in his hold, making a sound like a muffled “no” behind his hand. But you could barely pay attention to what he was saying when his fingers were pinching and rolling your nipples roughly, coaxing them into points.

“No, no you don’t,” Bucky agreed. “Because you’re only a slut for me, aren’t you, baby? My perfect little slut.” 

A hushed moan was your only response because a moment later, Bucky’s fingers dipped inside your swimsuit bottoms, sliding easily between your slick folds. 

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky groaned into your neck. “So fucking wet, holy shit.” He rubbed messily around your folds, spreading your wetness all over, bumping against your clit and making your hips jerk, seeking more. “So soft, so wet. Fuck.”

You whined behind his hand, your fingers digging into his muscled arm, not because you wanted him to pull away, but because you needed something to cling to. Bucky took a deep breath before he spoke again, his chest expanding and pressing against your back, making you feel like you were surrounded by him.

“Let me tell you how this is going to go, baby,” Bucky said, pushing one of his fingers inside your tight hole, your inner walls clenching around him. He paused for a moment while you moaned, letting you adjust to the feel of him, then he began to pump his finger in and out of you slowly. “I’m going to fuck your slutty little pussy with my fingers and you’re going to eat dinner with your brother and his friends knowing how good I can make you feel,” he murmured, his stubbled jaw grazing your cheek.

When Bucky picked up his pace, it was all you could do to stay standing. Your thighs trembled as he plunged his thick finger into you, your legs threatening to give out from the sheer pleasure. He held onto you tighter, making sure you didn’t fall. 

“Then tonight, I’m going to sneak into your room, and I’m really going to fuck you,” Bucky said, his words a promise. He added a second finger, pumping deeply in your pussy before scissoring them and stretching you. A shiver wracked your body as he drove your pleasure higher and higher. “I’ll pound into you while the rest of your brother’s friends are sleeping soundly, while Steve jerks off wishing he could get his cock in any one of your slutty holes.” Bucky’s voice turned harsh, jealousy and possessiveness thickening his tone. 

His words just made you hotter while he fucked your pussy with his fingers, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit, the soft smacking sound getting louder the faster he went. The lewd noises of Bucky fucking your wet hole mixed with the muffled moans pouring from your lips—so loud in the quiet kitchen, but not loud enough to draw any attention.

Bucky added a third finger, making you shriek at the stretch, but he only clamped his hand tighter over your mouth and fingerfucked you harder. “I’ll fuck you so good,” he rasped, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spilled filth into your brain. “Every time I come around to see your brother, you’re gonna spread your legs like a good little slut and beg me to fuck you again.”

His obscene words on top of the way he mercilessly fucked your body with just his fingers was too much. When he shoved his fingers deep, his palm grinding hard against your clit, you shattered. You screamed hoarsely into Bucky’s hand, trying to stifle yourself even while you lost control and your nails dug into his arm, clinging to him as your whole body went rigid. Then you were shaking and trembling through your release as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. 

Bucky’s fingers were still fucking you when your awareness returned, though not quite as hard, and he was whispering praises in your ear. You indulged in the pleasent hum beneath your skin, the leftover remnants of your release, until it became too much. Weakly, you dropped your hands to Bucky’s other arm and tugged on him. 

He chuckled as he removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, then pressed them to your lips. “Clean ‘em up, baby,” he murmured in a gentle command.

You obliged, mouth opening and tongue swirling around, your own musky taste coating your tongue. When Bucky was satisfied, he pulled them out and spun you around, facing you for the first time. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close, his bulge pressing into your stomach. A little dazed smile played on your lips as you stared up into his eyes. 

His blue gaze roved over your face, taking in your contented expression. “So fucked out you forgot to be shy, baby?” he asked, a smirk kicking up one corner of his mouth. “Or have you accepted you’re my little slut now?”

That made you blush and avert your eyes. Ignoring his questions entirely, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip with your uncertainty about how to respond. Gently, Bucky gripped your jaw and tilted your face back up to look at him. He waited until you met his gaze once more.

“So pretty when you blush,” Bucky murmured, his blue eyes heavy lidded with satisfaction, which only made you blush harder. He grinned and dropped a kiss to the apple of your cheek, then the other. His lips ghosted over your mouth. “Need to taste you, baby,” he murmured before his lips pressed more firmly to yours. 

Despite your renewed shyness, you opened for him, letting his tongue slide between your lips and explore your mouth. He kissed you thoroughly, making you melt in his arms as you trusted him to hold you up. You smiled into the kiss before he deepened it, kissing you until you were breathless.

When Bucky pulled back, he didn’t go far, his lips still close to yours. “Don’t be shy around me, baby, please,” he begged in such a soft voice, you barely heard it. The longing in his tone made your heart clench and you already knew you were a goner for him—you’d do anything he asked, even try to get over your shyness.

Before you could respond, though, Bucky backed up, his icy eyes intense on you. You bit your lip against your desire to look away and held his gaze until he turned away to start pouring out the margaritas. You let out an exhale of relief and, with shaky hands, went back to chopping up vegetables for the salad for dinner.

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