Sans titre

Bucky turned over to wrap his arms around you, only to find out that you’re not in bed next to him. He opens his eyes and pouts. He gets out of bed and looks for you, finding you in the kitchen making breakfast wearing a pair of panties and his t-shirt. He walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“Good morning, baby.” You say.

“Good morning, doll face.” Bucky says, his voice a bit raspy from waking up.

You turn your head to give him a kiss.

“I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite breakfast.” You say.

“It looks amazing, but I think I want something else for breakfast.” He says, his voice sounding a bit mischievous.

“Oh yea?” You say, biting your bottom lip.

“Yea.” He says.

You know where he’s going with this and you immediately give in to it. You tilt your head when your husband began kissing your neck. One of his hands slides down your stomach and into your panties. You gasped softly when you felt his fingers graze your clit.

“Bucky.” You moaned softly.

“You’re so wet for me, babydoll.” Bucky says softly.

Bucky’s free hand shuts off the stove. Luckily for you, you were done making breakfast. He takes his hand out of your panties and spins you around to pick you up and put you on his shoulder. You giggled when he playfully smacked your ass. He takes you back to yours and his bedroom, dropping you on the bed. You grinned, biting your bottom lip as he hovered over you.

“I like to eat my breakfast in bed.” Bucky says.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m all you can eat.” You say seductively.

“You bet your ass you are.” He agrees.

Bucky’s vibranium hand grabs ahold of the waistband of your panties and rips them off, making you gasp.

“I’ll buy you more.” He says.

Bucky spreads your legs and gets in between them. He kisses your inner thighs softly, making his way to your pussy. You gasped softly when you felt his breath on your pussy. His tongue licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, moaning as he did so.

“Fuck. You always taste incredible.” He practically moans.

Your hands grab onto his hair, tugging on it as he began to eat you out like a starved man. Your head falls back against the pillow and your mouth falls agape, his name leaving your lips in loud moans. The sound of your moans are like music to his ears and went straight to his cock.

“Bucky! Oh, Bucky!” You moaned loudly.

The movements of Bucky’s tongue against your clit quickened. A gasp left your lips when he thrusts two fingers into your pussy. The combination of his flicking your clit and his fingers fucking your pussy felt incredible. Bucky always knows how to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Bucky took his mouth off your clit to sit up in between your legs. His fingers fucking your pussy never stopped. His palm rubbed against your clit as his fingers kept fucking you.

“Feeling good, babydoll?” Bucky asks in a cooing voice.

“Yes! So good!” You moaned.

Bucky leans over you and kisses you. You moaned against his lips. Your back arches in pleasure, your breasts pressing against his chest. Bucky’s vibranium arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him. The coolness of his vibranium arm felt good against your heated skin.

“Bucky!” You moaned.

“Yea, doll face?” He asks, kissing along your neck.

“I want your cock!” You say.

“Cum for me first and then you’ll get my cock.” He says.

You gasped softly when his teeth bit down on your skin hard enough to mark you up. Your orgasm kept building up more and more. You’re almost there. Bucky can sense it. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you cum.

“Good girl.” He praises softly, his fingers fucking you through your orgasm.

Bucky’s fingers left your pussy and gave your clit one last rub. You panted as you stared up at your husband.

“You got another one in you?” Bucky asks softly.

“I do. The question is, do you have any in you, old man?” You playfully joked.

You giggled as Bucky flips you onto your stomach, playfully smacking your ass. He lifts up your hips so now, your ass is sticking out towards him. He presses himself against you and rubs his hand up your spine. You moaned when you felt his hard cock against your pussy.

“Bucky!” You whined.

You rubbed yourself against him impatiently. Bucky leans down, his chest against your back.

“Patience, gorgeous.” Bucky whispers in your ear.

Bucky kisses just below your ear before sitting back up. He lines his cock at your entrance and slowly thrusts it into your pussy inch by inch.

“Bucky…” You moaned breathlessly.

Your hands clutched the sheets beneath you as his cock filled you. Bucky takes a short moment to look at how much smaller you are compared to him. One of his hands slides up the length of your spine.

“You’re so small, babydoll.” Bucky says softly.

You whined softly and moved your hips against him. Bucky chuckles softly and gently pats your ass cheek.

“Don’t worry, doll face. I’m going to give you what you want.” He says softly.

And with that, Bucky began thrusting. His thrusts weren’t rough and relentless. They were more like fast and loving. His right hand remains on the middle of your back, not pinning you down to the bed or anything. He just left it there. His vibranium found its place on your hip. Your hands are still clutching the sheets and your head is turned to the side, looking over your shoulder at your husband.

“You feel so fucking good.” Bucky moans.

“So do you!” You moaned.

Your lips parted, moans falling from your lips. Your eyes briefly fluttered closed, but then you felt a soft tap on your shoulder. You opened your eyes and looked at Bucky.

“Keep those pretty eyes open and on me, doll face.” He says.

You did, but it was hard to do at the moment. You couldn’t help it. Bucky was fucking you so good. He kept tapping your shoulder as a reminder to keep your eyes open. This last time your eyes closed, they shot open when you felt Bucky’s fingers on your clit.

“Oh fuck, baby!” You moaned loudly.

Bucky’s fingers rubbed your clit at the same speed as his thrusts. He moans when he feels your pussy squeeze around his cock. Your hands clutched the sheets tighter. Your back arches in pleasure. As much as Bucky loves to see your back arch as he fucks you, he wanted to feel you against him even more. His vibranium hand slides from your hip and up your side. His vibranium arm wraps around you just under your breasts and yanks you into an upward position. Your back is against the front of his body. His pelvis presses against your ass as he fucks up into you. His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit either.

“Holy shit, honey!” You moaned, loving this position even more than the other one you were in a few seconds ago.

Your head falls back against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky presses kisses along your neck, marking you up even more. You reached a hand up, blindly feeling for his hair and finding it with ease. You gave it tugs as he fucked you. Bucky moans at the feeling.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Bucky says softly in your ear.

“I always am.” You say.

“Oh, I know you are.” He says softly.

You turned your head towards your husband, kissing him hungrily. You two were moaning against each other’s lips. Your second orgasm was building up a bit quicker than your first one. Your legs began to shake. You had a feeling that your legs were going to give out due to the position you and Bucky are in. Bucky felt your legs shaking and readjusted his hold on you, holding you tighter against him with his vibranium arm so you didn’t lose your balance.

“Baby, I’m so close!” You moaned loudly.

“Me too, doll.” Bucky says, his voice sounding a bit gruff.

Bucky rubs your clit faster, which helped your orgasm build up even more. You can feel it. Then you finally came. A loud almost pornographic moan leaves your lips.

“Good girl.” He praises softly.

Bucky wasn’t too far behind you. He came shortly after you came, coming inside of you. His thrusts come to a slow stop. Both of you collapsed on the bed. Bucky put his weight on his forearms so he didn’t accidentally crush you. Both of you were panting. His cock is still inside of you.

“That was amazing.” You breathed.

“I was.” Bucky agrees breathlessly.

It took a moment for you and Bucky to catch yours and his breath. Bucky moves your hair out of your face to kiss your lips.

“Breakfast was amazing.” Bucky says softly.

“I was, but you do know that our actual breakfast is in the kitchen and it’s probably cold now.” You say.

“We can reheat it for lunch. I’m not done with you yet.” He says.

Bucky pulls his cock out of you and flips you over onto your back, making you giggle. He pins your hands above your head, not in a restraining way. It was in a loving way. He intertwines his fingers with yours. He kisses you softly before looking at you with the look of adoration on his face like the big teddy bear he is.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yes, but I would love to hear it more.” You say softly and smiled.

“How about I show you instead?” He says, grinning lovingly and also a bit mischievously.

“I would love nothing more, sweetheart.” You say.

Phone in hand, you aim the camera and adjust a few settings before taking a picture…until the sound of a throat clearing gets your attention, snapping you back to reality.

Spinning around, a pair of steel blue eyes, hidden beneath dark eyebrows and a black beanie, meet your surprised gaze. He's staring down at you, something akin to annoyance etched in his features. An air of self-importance radiates from him, and without uttering a single word, gives you the impression he doesn't mess around.

It's then you realize people are moving around you like the water of a rushing river, brushing by with barely audible grumbles, while you stand planted in the middle of the doorway like a boulder that refuses to move.

"Oh!" You wince, chin dipping and offering an apologetic smile. "Am I in the way? Sorry! Let me just…" You quickly step to the side, phone clutched carefully in your hand.

He doesn't speak, simply nodding once before heading toward another building. The large INSTRUCTOR patch on the back of his jacket is impossible to miss. As someone who works with the public, he seems…pleasant.

"Grumpy…"

"Who's grumpy?"

Your friend, Lana, pops up beside you, head tilted in curiosity as she tries to follow your gaze. The man has already gone inside.

You shake your head and shrug it off, hooking your arm with hers and beaming brightly. "No one. Shall we?"

Lana returns your smile and pulls you away from the lodge, footsteps falling into sync.

When the day began, being a nuisance was not on the itinerary. You hoped the doorway would be the last time you were in anyone's way.

Yet not even an hour later, you accidentally wander into a training area, too focused on an evergreen tree that had just the right amount of snow on its branches.

"Miss," a deep voice politely sounded from not ten feet away, "Please give us some space."

You glanced up just long enough to see the same man from earlier, his arms crossed over his chest, while a student who couldn't have been more than six wobbled down the small incline.

You rushed away without a word, heat creeping up your cheeks.

By noon, you nearly lose your footing outside the rental shop, arms flailing wildly with a squeak and phone flying through the air before you manage to catch yourself. When you finally spot your phone half buried in the snow, someone is already picking it up. Only—to your utter dismay—to be met with those blue eyes that are growing painfully familiar.

The phone is open to one of the pictures Lana took where your foot was kicked up behind you like a Genovian princess. His gaze glances down at it before he places the device in your outstretched hand, and he looks like he's trying to fight back a laugh—or maybe just stop his eyes from rolling out of his head.

You try to laugh it off, thanking him quickly for the phone, before scurrying off in the opposite direction.

By the time the sun dips a bit lower in the horizon and the après-ski parties begin, you're more than ready for a change of outfit and a stiff drink.

Warmth spreads quickly across your chilled skin as you enter the lodge, the fuzzy oversized coat you slipped on doing little to protect you against the cold evening air after changing out of the snowsuit and into something cute. Though the day had been sunny and warm, the moment the mountaintops began to hide the sun, the temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees.

People are scattered throughout the lodge, some lounging on couches near a large fireplace while others gather around pool tables. Music is faint behind the chatter of guests. It's one of the calmer parties you've been too, but after the embarrassing day of the universe throwing curve balls in your direction, a relaxing night sounds perfect.

"I'm gonna find us a spot," Lana says, eyes already roaming the room for an empty seat. Then she points at you, eyebrows raised, adding, "Drinks?"

"Got it. Scotch on the rocks."

She gasps, eyes going wide, and you almost don't hear her protests when you start walking to the bar, a grin playing on your lips.

Sliding into an open spot at the bar, you wave the bartender down, nearly missing the loud sigh just off to the side.

"There is a line, you know."

Something about the deep voice sounds painfully familiar. A twinge of dread twists in your gut when you finally drag your gaze in the direction of the voice.

"I'm so sorry, I genuinely didn't even notice." You look at the man who spoke, eyes meeting his annoyed blue ones when it hits you—you've seen that hue far too many times today, and always when you're not at your best. Just behind him, there's a small line of patrons watching you; some annoyed, others too busy with wandering gazes to be angry.

Of course it happened again. Of course, despite the various bars and parties occurring all over the resort, the one you pushed Lana to go to for the quieter ambiance is the one where he would be.

"Aren't you that instructor guy I keep seeing today?"

He's changed, no longer in the standard issue red jacket and his perfectly styled hair no longer hidden under a beanie, but it's him. The crease in his brow deepens when confusion crosses his features briefly, then recognition flashes.

He sighs again. "Pink snowsuit."

You nod in silent confirmation, nose scrunching a bit. The way he said it does not bode well.

"You must absolutely hate me by now," you joke with a short laugh, leaning against the bar as casually as you can manage. "I swear I'm not doing it on purpose."

His eyes study you, and you swear curiosity appeared in them before indifference fills his voice. "Could've fooled me."

Lips pressed together and ignoring the inkling of offense tugging at you, you stand a bit straighter, forgetting about the line continuing to form behind him.

"Do you always think inconveniences are solely about you?"

"Considering you've spent all day being in the way and not even touching a pair of skis? Maybe a little."

Your lips part, brows shooting up into your hairline. "I—that's not—I was going to."

"Sure," he huffs.

He turns towards the bartender, effectively dismissing you as he orders his drink. The bartender gives him a nod, eyes flicking to you before getting to work. Chatter from the bar fills the tense silence. You don't move.

"Do you actually ski?," he finally asks, voice gruff. "Or are you just here for pictures?" His hand wraps around a glass of amber liquid as it's slid across the bar.

"I can ski! I was just…planning on doing it tomorrow. Today was recon day."

He lifts a single brow.

That's a lie.

You haven't skied since you were little, school field trips the only experience you've had. In fact, you're confident you'd land face first in the snow if you tried.

"Really?" He mutters with false intrigue, raising the glass to his lips. "I'd be surprised if you made it down the bunny hill without starting an avalanche. How many times did you nearly trip over your own boots today?" He watches you carefully over the rim of his glass, eyes twinkling. Is he amused by this?

"You don't even know me, sir," you retort, crossing your arms. "Skiing is like second nature to me."

Where the hell did that come from?

He smirks knowingly. "Prove me wrong."

You blink at him.

"What?"

"Prove me wrong. You said you're skiing tomorrow? Lucky for you, I just happen to have a free morning." He pauses, leaning forward. "Unless you'd rather stick to the camera."

Your eyes narrow, defiance growing with every second. This man doesn't know a single thing outside of your appearance and a bad day, yet something about the look in his eyes makes you want to dig in your heels.

"I don't just take pictures."

His expression doesn't change. Patience must be his biggest virtue as he takes another sip of his drink, silently waiting. Like he knows you're about to break.

A short scoff slips between your lips. "Fine. What time?"

The corner of his lips twitch, the glass in his hand finally lowering as he turns to fully face you.

"Eight. Think you can be up that early, bunny?"

Bunny. He says it like a taunt, as though you're supposed to be embarrassed that you enjoy cute outfits, snow, and the resort scene.

You force a smile, flashing your teeth and tilting your chin up.

"I have a name," you reply, offering it quickly before continuing, "I'll be there. And I'll look damn adorable, too, thank you very much."

Your feet are carrying you away from the bar before you even think about it, face warm, fists clenched with determination while the feeling of his gaze stays trained on the back of your head. The thought of drinks is long gone, and when you finally plop down on a couch next to Lana empty-handed, her expression shifts to confusion.

"Where's my cocktail?"

— — —

Morning comes far faster than you hope despite sleep evading you.

Tossing and turning didn't help. Neither did flipping the pillow to the cold side. You tried watching a bit of TV, grateful Lana has her own room so you don't bother her, but you ultimately end up pulling up instructional skiing videos on your phone—a futile attempt to reconnect with your memories of skiing as a kid. If you could do it then, you can do it now, right?

By the time your alarm goes off, the knot in your stomach that has been forming for hours is tighter than ever. Food is the last thing on your mind when you finish getting ready, but you shove a granola bar into your mouth anyway to ensure you have some sort of energy for the day ahead.

With one last glance in the mirror to ensure everything is perfect, you're out the door and tugging on your gloves before the sun has even fully risen.

You refuse to be late.

The rental shop is surprisingly busy this early. Gear is organized in perfect rows, employees are assisting guests in finding the perfect fit, and parents are doing their best to wrangle their kids into ski boots. One toddler manages to get a hold of a ski pole, swinging it around like a sword before their dad snatches it from their tiny fist. It's a brief, welcome distraction before a throat clears, pulling your attention to the employee behind the rental counter.

A few minutes later, you find yourself on a bench outside the shop, skis haphazardly laying on the ground as you fight to get the ski boots on your feet. The sun is no longer hiding below the horizon, casting bright rays that glitter across the fresh snow that must have fallen last night. Your fingers fidget with the buckles with no luck, becoming increasingly frustrated. How hard is it to put these things on?

"It's easier if you stand up."

Your heart drops. The voice is deep, a little rough from lack of use this early in the morning, but familiar enough to make you tense.

Eyes widening and gloved fingers freezing in place, you slowly look up to find the familiar deep blue irises staring down at you. A mix of amusement and annoyance dances in his eyes when he notices the skis on the ground. Using the toe of his boot, he gently nudges them closer to where you're seated. He's wearing the same red jacket as yesterday, finally giving you a clear look at the front where the name Bucky is embroidered on his chest, just beneath the resort's logo.

"You actually made it," he grunts, eyes on you again, lips turning up almost imperceptibly. The slight raise of his brows beneath his beanie make him look mildly impressed. You're probably imagining it. "Are you sure you got enough beauty rest?"

"Of course I made it." Your focus returns to the matter at hand, trying to ignore his comment and the feeling of his eyes watching every little movement you make. "Maybe you should stop doubting me."

"Maybe," he responds slowly, dragging the word out, "but we haven't made it onto the slopes yet, bunny."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the nickname he insists on using. When the buckles still don't easily lock in, you sigh, reluctantly standing and trying again. Sure enough, the buckles click tight without a problem. Of course they do.

Bucky doesn't give you a moment before he's adjusting his skis in his arms and turning away.

"Grab your gear, we'll start on the bunny hill."

You scramble to pick up your skis, immediately fumbling when one slips out of your grip and crashes back to the ground. Heat rushes to your cheeks before you're snatching it up again, rushing now to try and catch up with his long strides.

Only it's harder than you expect.

The boots are clunky and heavy, each step far more difficult than you remember. The skis knock against each other, clacking sounds ringing through the crisp air and only adding to the embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

He glances back once.

A few steps later, he looks back again.

"You ski often?"

You hesitate. "Obviously."

He blinks. "Mm. Obviously."

You can practically hear the grin spreading across his face when he faces forward again, his pace finally slowing down enough for you to catch up. Bucky stays silent, but the feeling of his eyes on you is unmistakable. Watchful. A little judgemental.

The ski lift for the bunny hill finally comes into view, making the knot in your stomach twist painfully now that reality and exposure are on the precipice. There's only one way you can imagine this going; a face full of snow, dignity gone, and a certain ski instructor watching it all go down. Where's Lana when you need her?

Bucky's gaze flicks towards you again. Lingering. Waiting.

He stops just shy of the line, popping his skis on like it's nothing. Simple. Easy.

Until you try to do it, of course. Heel then toe? Toe then heel? Which way is the ski supposed to face?

Bucky stands there quietly watching as you spin in place trying to figure out how to get it on. The smirk is infuriating, but you're trying not to think of it when you finally get one ski on, the other following suit after a shuffle of your feet has you nearly losing your balance.

"Good job," he says with a nod, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. "Looks like the bar is starting high today."

"Don't you worry your grumpy head, Bucky." You wave him off, trying desperately to hang on to what little pride is still hanging on by a thread. "I'll blow that bar out of the water in no time."

By the time the two of you make it onto the lift—a miracle in itself after nearly running into the employee operating it when you forgot how to stop—nerves have settled fully into your bones. The sun is slowly warming the air, but the cold breeze blows straight through your coat. Or maybe it's the attitude coming from the world's most people-friendly instructor.

The silence is deafening for a few moments, long enough to feel deliberate. He shifts slightly in his seat before speaking.

"Make sure to keep your weight forward when we get off."

Your gaze, which has been focused on the pink knit fabric of your gloves, lifts to see him watching you carefully. There's something in his eyes you can't quite place.

"Yeah, forward. Got it."

His eyes narrow slightly, studying you. Silence fills the space once more.

You avert your gaze to the snow covered trees below, hoping he can't see the way your hands are shaking. The thought crosses your mind to snap a picture from this vantage point, but with your luck this weekend, it'll probably slip from your grip and bury itself in the snow to never be found again.

The lift arrives at the top, and you follow every move he makes as he prepares to dismount, scooting to the edge of the seat. When your skis brush the slick snow below, panic has you sucking in a sharp breath.

Bucky pushes off the seat with practiced ease, already gliding forward and leaving you alone. You don't hear him giving instructions, you simply lean forward and let gravity do the work.

To your surprise, it works.

You glide down towards him, arms out and wobbling only a little bit, before managing a successful stop directly in his path. His eyes flash with something like surprise—vanishing almost as quickly as it appears.

Your back straightens with a bit of pride, then—

"Don't get too excited," he mutters. "You still have to go downhill."

Your heart drops. He's right.

You glance over at the slope just a few feet away. It's not that steep—it is the bunny hill, after all—but the daunting task of staying balanced and sliding downhill without falling on your face or breaking something is suddenly hitting you like a punch to the gut.

All because of pride.

"No, of course," you mumble with a nod. Your throat tightens. "Downhill is the easy part."

A cool breeze brushes against skin that's becoming warmer by the second. Kids and parents ski by, heading down the hill like it's simple. Your fingers curl into tight fists in an attempt to hide the tremble threatening to expose your bluff.

Your eyes are glued to the line of skiers at the bottom, so you don't notice Bucky move closer.

"You don't know how to ski, do you?" His voice is low, warmer than you expected it to be with a hint of amusement. "I need you to be honest with me before I let you go down that hill."

Finally, slowly, you tear your gaze from the skiers to find his eyes in you. Always watching. There's concern there, a slight crease in his brow.

"I know how—"

He gives you a look.

You take a breath, shoulders slumping.

"I haven't skied since I was a kid."

Bucky rolls his shoulders. The concern in his eyes is replaced with amusement, and his lips flatten into a tight line like he's debating between scolding and laughing at your expense.

He settles on neither.

"Let's start with your stance," he instructs, adjusting his own and bouncing lightly on his knees. "Feet shoulder-width apart, not…whatever you're doing."

You blink at him in surprise. Every bone in your body would've bet on him leaving you stranded up here after lying about your abilities, not stepping in to help.

He nods once, silently encouraging you to follow his lead. "Try it. Stay loose or you'll go down."

With a sigh, you adjust your stance, but it still feels wrong. Unbalanced. Tight.

"Like this?"

Bucky looks at you, the corners of his lips twitching.

"…No."

You huff, heat crawling up your neck at his blunt assessment. "Excellent teaching skills, very encouraging." His lips pucker slightly and a muscle in his jaw ticks.

Looking down to avoid his gaze, you attempt to fix it, widening your stance and tucking your elbows in tighter.

"Stop," he grunts. Shaking his head, Bucky moves closer, closing most of the distance. His skis bump against yours. "Knees in."

You try again, overcorrecting so far it feels like gravity caught the hood of your coat and is giving one good pull. His hands shoot out, one landing on your elbow as the other finds the small of your back, catching you before your feet can slip out from under you.

Your heart skips a beat, though you're unsure if it's from the near fall or the sudden contact.

"Not that far." His voice is quiet, a little frustrated, but it almost sounds like he's holding back a laugh. "Shoulder-width," he reminds. His hands fall away, leaving you strangely aware of the space between you.

With a short nod, you find your balance, more aware now of where your knees are. It feels better already, steadier. He gives a grunt—something that almost sounds like approval.

"You're too tight. Loosen up a little," he instructs. "Fingers, elbows, knees…relax. When you go down the hill, you want to be loose. Work with gravity, not against it."

Relax. Got it. You can do that. With a roll of your shoulders, you loosen your fingers and give a small bounce of your knees.

He nods. "Okay, now show me a wedge."

You aim the front of the skis into a triangle, the stance needed to stop.

"Good," he says quickly. "That's perfect."

Oh.

Heat floods your cheeks fast—too fast.

The breeze picks up again just in time to use as a welcome distraction. You turn your face into it, and away from him, hoping to cool down despite the sun now beating down from a cloudless sky. If he notices your reaction, he doesn't say a word. Instead, he starts talking about the hill and how to go down safely, but you're not listening. Until—

"Earth to bunny."

Your gaze snaps back to him at the nickname, though the warmth accompanying it is new. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Are you ready to go down? Can't stay up here forever."

Your stomach drops at the reminder. Of course, downhill. How could you forget? You swallow hard and brush him off with a dismissive wave of your hand. It's just skiing. Kids do it.

Bucky's eyes are on you, studying. Like he can see the false confidence waving in the air like a white flag.

He doesn't comment on it.

Instead, his voice remains low and steady, running through everything he just covered. You try to pay attention, but as you slowly approach the slope and the point of no return, the hill suddenly looks even more daunting than before. Steeper. Taller.

With a deep breath, and mustering all the courage you have, you begin the descent without waiting for him.

Something feels off immediately.

Gravity feels stronger. The skis feel like they're fighting to pull ahead.

You lean forward—but that suddenly feels like a mistake, and now you're moving faster. Your mind goes blank in the panic, the knowledge of how to stop or slow down flying out the window. The hill's slope feels as though it's pulling you uncontrollably down it.

Suddenly, Bucky's voice cuts through the noise closer than you expect. It doesn't register at first; too focused on watching your skis and the way they're pointing at two different angles.

"Eyes on me, bunny."

When your panicked gaze snaps up to see him moving in front of you, skiing backwards like it's the easiest thing in the world, something clicks.

He was ready.

His hands are outstretched, ready to grab you at a moment's notice.

"Heels out, slow down."

With your mind finally clearing, you adjust your skis until they're wedged, the speed immediately decreasing.

"There you go," he murmurs. "Just like that. You're doing great."

A breath.

It's not like you haven't heard it before. In fact, you've always thought yourself capable…with the unfortunate habit of not always paying attention when your phone is in your hand. But the way the words slip through his lips, warm with the slightest hint of pride, hits harder than it should.

When you finally reach the end of the slope and drift to a stop, Bucky backs off, and it somehow feels a moment too soon.

Everything feels a little strange. The sun is too bright, the air suddenly warm, the crowd nearby a little loud.

With a deep breath and a shake of your head, you force a smile and turn towards the line. "Come on, Bucky. Round two." His brows raise, but he doesn't argue, following your lead.

By the time you're on the lift, you're more determined than ever. It's you that pushes off first. It's you that moves toward that same edge, stopping just before the point of no return.

It's like riding a bike; the first time is a little rusty. Shaky. Every time you get back on, you get steadier and more confident.

Only, when you lean forward and start going down the hill full of confidence you shouldn't have yet, you realize quickly that staying slow can actually be difficult. The wedge isn't working quite the same. Panic starts, but you squash it down and correct. Except the adjustment is too much, and one ski bounces on an uneven dip, making you lose balance.

The world tips as your arms fly out instinctively to catch yourself, and you land in the snow with a soft whump, sending a puff of powder flying into the air.

Your heart is pounding, blood rushing in your ears and making the world fall silent for a moment as you catch your breath.

Then there's laughter. Deep but short, like it came out before he could stop it.

"Please let this be a stupid dream," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut.

Bucky comes to a stop next to you, still chuckling. "Round two, huh?"

"Please don't."

There's a pause, and you open an eye to peer up at him. The corner of his mouth is still twitching. Then he's crouching down, voice lowering as the crease in his brow deepens.

"Are you okay?" There's a shift in his tone, a softness that definitely wasn't there before.

You don't answer at first, too embarrassed. But then his hand finds your arm, touching it with a gentleness you didn't think he possessed. And it makes your gut do something funny.

"Seriously, are you hurt?"

The genuine concern laced in the deep timbre of his voice is a welcome surprise. It's warm. And professional, you remind yourself.

"I'm fine. I just decided to check the quality of the snow," you say, patting some of the fresh powder. "It's nice and…powdery."

A moment of silence passes where his incredibly blue eyes are narrowed and staring at you, holding eye contact a little too well. Finally, he hums, seemingly satisfied before standing and offering his hand.

You hesitate for a second before taking it and letting him pull you to your feet. Your pride is well and fully bruised at this point, confidence dipping low. Part of you hopes this will just end here. That he'll decide you're not worth the effort when he's not officially your instructor, that his challenge proved him right—

"Let's try again," he says simply, cutting your pity party short. No hint of teasing, no smirk. Encouragement.

It takes only a heartbeat before you're brushing off the snow and nodding. This time, when he starts offering instructions in a low, calm voice, you listen.

"Slow, control your speed."

"Heels out, bunny, you can do it."

When the wedge finally works, not perfect but enough to come to a full stop, a small smile tugs at his lips. "Good. That's better."

The next run comes easier.

So does the next.

It quickly becomes a pattern. He follows closely at your side, eyes analyzing everything you do. Every wrong move is followed by a gentle correction. Every adjustment is followed with some form of praise.

"That's it."

"Yes, there you go."

"Perfect, bunny, great form. Keep that."

And every time you get it right, you can feel it. Your chest tightens. Your breath catches. Your cheeks feel permanently warm, but maybe it's just the sun.

Several runs down the bunny hill in, mistakes are becoming minimal and you find yourself watching him instead of the run. Waiting. Listening. Until nothing comes at all, and disappointment unexpectedly tugs at your gut.

When the sun finally reaches the highest point in the sky, the two of you stop at the bottom of the hill for what feels like the millionth time. Your legs are tired, a little shaky from the exertion.

"You're getting it," he finally says. Bucky looks at his watch before squinting at the sun, a bead of sweat glistening on his hairline. He turns to meet your gaze. "That's it for today."

"Wait, what?"

He nods towards your legs before speaking. "Your legs are about to give out," he says matter-of-factly, "and I don't want to have to carry you down the mountain." The warmth is almost gone, replaced with the same teasing tone he had earlier this morning, but now there's a glint of something in his eye you can't quite name. Lingering. "Besides, I'm sure you'll need your strength for après-ski tonight."

You blink.

"Who says I'm going to après-ski after that?" you ask incredulously, placing your hands on your hips. His gaze drops to the way your knees wobble beneath you, the corners of his lips curling almost imperceptibly before his blue eyes meet yours once more.

His head tilts slightly. "Get a drink, bunny," he replies, voice lowering, "you earned it." He smirks before turning and leaving you standing at the end of the run alone.

— — —

The White Wolf Lodge is crawling with people when you and Lana finally step inside later that night, busier than it had been yesterday. Despite her protests to "find something with more oomph", you insisted on returning…just in case. Lana grins with delight, bouncing in her heeled boots as she takes it in.

"I'm getting drinks this time," she says pointedly. You open your mouth to protest, but she shuts you up with a look before turning and winding her way through the crowd in a blur of hair and perfume.

It's busy. Too busy. And despite the insistence to your brain that you weren't hoping to see a certain someone, a wave of disappointment hits you all the same. Because there's no way he'll be here with this many people around.

By some miracle, two chairs open up just as you push through a small opening of people. You sit quickly and take in your surroundings. A DJ booth is set up in the corner this time, the music loud enough to rattle the seat, and the pool tables are completely surrounded by people either dancing or ignoring the game altogether.

When your gaze finally drags over to the bar where Lana is currently leaning over it and pointing at something to the bartender, your heart nearly stops.

Those incredibly blue eyes, the ones who have seen you hit too many lows for comfort this weekend, catch your attention like a beacon. The eye contact is brief. Too brief…yet simultaneously too long. He turns away, but not before you catch the way his lips curl up at the corners.

Damn it.

"One cocktail for you, madame," Lana announces out of nowhere and hands you a glass. "Drink up."

"Actually," you say slowly, already setting the glass down, "I think I'm going to get some air." Lana doesn't say a word, watching as you leave for the door that leads towards a balcony overlooking the resort.

The sun is beginning to set behind the mountains, casting a pink and orange glow over everything. Lights flicker on across the resort and slopes as the night skiers begin their evenings. It's quieter out here, only the faint thumping of music filling the air.

You take a deep breath and enjoy the serenity for a moment before the sound of heavy boots approaches slowly, stopping just off to your side.

"Still standing, I see."

There's a lightness in his tone—impressed and teasing. Your eyes roll.

"I told you, you don't know me." You glance over at him. "I'm adorable, but I'm not helpless."

Bucky meets your gaze for a moment before looking out at the view. He nods thoughtfully before he shakes his head with a laugh, a real one that catches both of you off guard. He steps forward and rests his arms on the railing, close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him.

"For the record, I never said you were helpless. You just seemed a little too attached to your phone for your own safety."

You scoff, annoyed for a second, before conceding. "Yeah, sure. I'll give you that."

He smirks. "I guess this means I was wrong about you. You proved me wrong, bunny. You successfully made it down the mountain multiple times. Well done."

There it is again. Two incredibly simple words that shouldn't have the affect they do, yet the heat rising in your cheeks is unstoppable. What is it about this man that his approval so addicting?

You release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding and turn to watch the ski lifts sway gently in the wind.

"Thanks," you mumble, trying to keep your voice steady. The world suddenly feels smaller than it should. His gaze doesn't leave your profile, like he's studying you again. Reassessing.

There's a pause in the conversation, allowing the hum of muffled music and the squeal of children throwing snowballs down below to fill the silence.

Several moments pass before he leans a bit closer and breaks the silence. "You're awfully quiet right now. It doesn't suit you."

You raise an eye brow and glance at him. "Maybe I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet."

Something flashes in his eyes too quick to catch.

"Mm. I'm not sure that's it." He turns to fully face you now, elbow resting on the railing. "I watched you today."

Your heart stops, but you try and brush it off. "You were instructing me, of course you watched."

Bucky laughs, a rumble that vibrates deep in his chest. "No, I mean when you thought I wasn't paying attention. You know what I learned about you?"

You don't answer, choosing to focus on the way butterflies are threatening to erupt in your gut.

"You get flustered pretty easily."

His gaze holds yours, searching for any reaction, any hint that his words mean something. When you still don't respond, his voice lowers almost dangerously.

"I think you like the attention."

Your heart skips a beat.

"Maybe I do." Your voice comes out quieter than you intend. "But you're still giving it to me."

The way Bucky is looking at you makes your stomach do a somersault. With a twinkle in his eye and a grin he's fighting to keep hidden, he takes a half-step closer, making your breath catch.

"Probably because I like giving it to you, bunny."

Smooth as silk, and it hits exactly how he wants it to—a sharp breath and the flick of your eyes to the door leading back to the party inside before finding that unwavering gaze again. The sun has slipped completely behind the mountains now, leaving the warm lighting of the lodge's balcony to soften his sharp features.

"You're ridiculous," you whisper weakly, but you both know the tension in the air is thickening fast.

He chuckles softly. "Yet you're still here."

"I was here first."

He hums, looking out at the darkened view for a minute like he's considering something. And then his focus is on you again.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

He lifts his hand palm up between you, a silent invitation.

Your gaze drops to it. It's large and unfairly steady compared to the way he just made your pulse flutter. But you don't take it. Not yet.

"My room isn't far," you say without thinking, looking back up.

His expression shifts with a blink—eyebrows raising a fraction as a small smile, warm and satisfied, forms on his lips.

You take that as agreement, and suddenly your feet are carrying you back inside.

Every step is unhurried as you move through the noise and chaos of the lodge. You don't even have to glance back to know he's right behind you, a steady presence.

Each hallway gets quieter than the last, the tension slowly increasing with every corner you turn until finally stopping at your door.

For a moment, neither of you move.

Your fingers are wrapped around the keycard already, and the silence is almost deafening. When you second guess yourself and turn to ask if he's sure, you find him leaning against the wall.

Too casual. Too calm. Too—

Bucky smiles. Slow. Devastating.

Your breath catches.

His eyes flick to your lips, parted with a question that won't come out, then back to your eyes.

That's all it takes before you step towards him. Not the whole way, but enough. He closes the distance.

His hands cradle your face before his mouth finds yours, lips moving at a languid pace like we have all the time in the world. Your hands find the soft fabric of his shirt as he tilts your face just a little.

A soft hum slips from your throat, which only seems to encourage him into picking up the pace.

You don't break apart until the sound of footsteps and laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you find yourself gently pushing him away to try and get the door open. He barely moves, watching as you struggle to get the card in the reader twice before it finally unlocks.

Bucky holds the door open for you to go through first, and when it finally closes with a click, he immediately backs you into the nearest wall.

His body is a solid mass against yours, pressing firmly against you. One hand finds your waist, tugging you closer, as the other cups your face with a slow brush of his thumb.

"Tell me to stop," he says, voice strained. "Tell me you don't want this."

His breath fans across your lips in ragged puffs, like he's desperately trying to stay composed. But when your arms encircle his neck and pull him in for another kiss, his restraint snaps.

It starts slow. Tasting. Exploring.

Then the kiss deepens—your hands in his hair, his holding the nape of your neck like he's afraid to let you go. When his knee slots between your legs, pressing right where heat has been pooling far longer than you realized, a small whimper pulls from your throat before you can stop it.

He freezes. A slow curve of his lips accompany a low chuckle, and suddenly his lips are trailing to your jaw and down to your neck, his hands beginning to explore.

"God," he mumbles against your skin, "you sound good. Wonder what other noises you make."

You huff a laugh, half flustered half amused, your own hands beginning to tug at his coat, but your mind is stuck on the hard length pressing into your lower belly.

Bucky doesn't waste another second. He shrugs off his coat before cupping both sides of your face and pulling you in for a searing kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, more insistent now. He lifts his arms, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head before it's tossed aside and his mouth finds yours again.

The sudden movement has your head spinning, knocking you off balance when he begins to tug you by the waist one, two steps away from the wall.

You barely register each step as clothes begin to peel away, leaving a trail of fabric to the bed. When the back of your knees press into the edge of the mattress, he follows you down instantly, bracing himself above you with one hand as the other trails slowly down your side.

His eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide as he looks down at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Still wanting my attention?" he murmurs.

A soft laugh. "More than anything."

Bucky kisses you again with a low groan before starting a slow trail down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. He lingers too briefly at your breasts, kneading, sucking, and groaning softly before continuing down, ultimately settling between your legs with a gentle push of his hand.

You watch as his fingers play with the waistband of your panties, torturing you with a glance back up to your pleading eyes.

His lips part like he's going to say something, but then he glances back down at the fabric clinging to your wet heat and he groans instead. Slipping a finger into the gusset, he slowly peels it down and off your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers. "So pretty."

He starts slow, his thumb brushing carefully up your slit, gathering slick as he goes. Your fingers curls into the plush duvet when he licks his lips, looking like a starving man at a buffet.

And then his tongue is on you.

Hot, flat, and tasting you slowly from entrance to clit.

You gasp, your head falling back to the mattress. He squeezes his eyes closed, an "oh, fuck," slipping from his lips before he's spreading you open with both thumbs and licking again. The sensation has you tingling, fingers gripping tighter, and when his lips attach to your clit without warning, a strangled whimper fills the soft silence of the room.

He hums, seemingly pleased at your reaction. And then his tongue is moving again. Slow. Flat. Flicking your clit before circling it with expert precision.

"Bucky," you whine. Your hips buck up in a silent plea for more.

He chuckles, a deep rumble that sends vibrations through your core. "Oh, bunny, you taste incredible," he murmurs. Your chest heaves as he exchanges his tongue for a single finger, pulling back just enough to look back up at you, lips already glistening with your juices.

He's watching you carefully for every reaction, every hitch in your breath has he rubs tantalizingly slow circles on your clit with too-soft pressure. Seemingly satisfied, he licks his lips again and dips his finger into your entrance, curling it just right and pulling a soft moan from your throat.

Bucky grins like he just won the lottery.

He leans back in, continuing where he left off with unhurried movements as his mouth and finger work in tandem. Pressure is coiling low in your gut, tighter with every brush of his thick fingers against the soft spot deep inside. A second finger joins quickly, stretching you open. One of your hands abandons the duvet altogether, burying into his hair to ground you.

He grunts in approval, picking up the pace. His mouth is relentless, sucking and licking your dripping folds.

"Fuck," he murmurs, "you're squeezing my fingers. You close, bunny?"

You nod quickly, brows drawn together in pleasure as your fingers grip his hair a little tighter. He growls when he feels your back begin to arch off the bed.

"There you go—fuck, you're doing great. Just relax and let go."

You moan loudly when your orgasm crashes over you, a white hot pleasure coursing through your veins in waves. Your legs shake and squeeze around his head, earning a deep groan from him. Bucky keeps up his movements, prolonging the pleasure as he groans against you.

His tongue laps up the juices as you come down from your high.

"Good fucking girl," he mutters, pulling his fingers out. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh before moving back up and kissing you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

"You've got quite the mouth on you," you laugh breathlessly when he pulls away, lowering himself and pressing his still-clothed bulge against your sensitive folds.

Bucky chuckles.

"I've got more than that." He grins and does one grind against you to punctuate his point. Wrapping your arms and legs around him, your hips roll once with his, not caring you're soaking into his briefs.

"Do you have a condom?" he huffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your flesh. "I…wasn't planning for this or I would've stolen one from my roommate."

You shake your head. "I'm clean and on the pill."

He groans, kissing you again and silently thanking any god that will listen for the snow bunny beneath him.

Bucky slips the now soaked material off, his cock slapping against his stomach as he looks at you with a newfound hunger, precum already beading on the flushed tip. Your eyes widen when his hands wrap around the length, giving one slow pump. He's thick and you're already salivating.

He moves to bracing himself above you. His knee pushes your legs further apart before he's rubbing the length through your wet folds, gathering your arousal before lining himself with your entrance.

He stops for a moment, chest rising and falling. Then his eyes are on you. And before you can say a word, he's pushing in.

Slow.

The stretch is delicious, each inch splitting you open. His eyes don't leave yours.

When he bottoms out, your eyes flutter shut, feeling more full than you ever have in your life. You can feel him shift, his body warm and solid as he settles above you, one hand bracing himself as the other gently grips your waist and waits for you to adjust.

When your eyes open again, his blue ones are watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation.

"You okay?"

You nod, your throat not quite working. He nods in response, doing one test roll of his hips and making you gasp.

He smirks.

"Don't fucking look at me like that." Your laugh comes out strained, your hands somehow find themselves in his hair again.

He chuckles and does another roll. Slower. Just to see if you'll make the same sound. He grins when you do.

"You're so tight," he grunts. "Fucking perfect."

Your cunt clenches around him, and he groans.

His hips begin moving more deliberately, pulling his cock almost all the way out before sliding back in. He moves like he's back on the mountain—controlled, unhurried. Every thrust feels like heaven, dragging against your sensitive walls with increasing ease.

"There we go, that's it," he mutters. His gaze flicks down to where you're connected and licks his lips. He slowly picks up his pace. His hand moves from your thigh to slip beneath you, lifting your hips for a better angle. You mewl helplessly at the feeling.

Bucky's eyes snap back up to your mouth where your lips are parted and panting, each thrust now pulling sounds out like a beautiful symphony.

"Fuck, bunny, you sound—" his hips snap once, harder, and you whimper. He grins. "I'm not gonna last if you keep—" He snaps his hips again and the same sound comes out.

His jaw tightens, like he's trying to hold himself back, but when he does it again, hitting that spongy spot perfectly and pulling a full moan from your lips, he loses control.

The pace picks up faster and harder until you're crying out his name with every thrust.

"You're doing so good, look at you. You're taking me so well, sweetheart, keep going."

The praise hits you hard this time, your cunt clenching around him like it's desperately trying to hang on. Bucky moans, a deep guttural sound as his hips stutter and slow to a near stop. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.

"You—you like that, don't you?" he growls. His eyes snap open. "You like the praise. No wonder you wanted it on the mountain."

You roll your hips up in his in an attempt for more friction. His cock twitches deep inside you. And then he's grinning wickedly.

"Bucky, please," you whimper.

"Please what, sweetheart? You look so pretty like this, underneath me while I split you open."

His words have the exact affect he wants and he chuckles when your body uselessly tries to cling on.

"Don't worry, bunny, I've got you. You're so good for me, huh? Already came on my mouth, think you can come on my cock like a good girl?"

"Oh, fuck…" you whine. "Yes, Bucky. Please."

He leans down, and gently presses a kiss to your lips. It's soft and lingering as he finally begins to move his hips again.

When you moan softly against him, he pulls back just enough to watch your face. "That's it. Let's get you there again, yeah?"

You nod, brows furrowed in pleasure, the edge slowly creeping closer as he slowly picks up the pace again. His calloused hand finds your thigh again, moving it to wrap around his waist. The change makes him feel even deeper when he bottoms out.

Bucky is pounding into you now, the sound of skin slapping skin mingling with heavy breaths.

"Bucky, I'm—I'm close."

He's panting, hips stuttering with his own impending orgasm, his eyes still not leaving your face. He reaches down between your sweat-slicked bodies and finds your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb.

"Give it to me, sweetheart. Come with me."

Three deep thrusts and your back arches as you reach your peak for a second time. You fingers tighten in his hair, tugging the strands. Moans fill the room as Bucky fucks you through your orgasm until his own release has him spilling hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

Hips roll in-sync, each of you pulling every last drop of pleasure possible out of the other before Bucky slowly pulls out with a groan.

"Good girl," he murmurs before climbing off the bed and heading to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp washcloth, cleaning you up carefully before tossing it on a side table. The two of you move to slip under the duvet, a calm weight draping over your bodies. Bucky pulls you into his side before pressing his lips to your temple.

A comfortable silence falls in the room and settles into the sheets, only the sounds of synchronized breaths filling the space between tangled limbs. Bucky's chest rises and falls in an increasingly slower rhythm under your head. His hands, the same ones that spent half the day correcting every mistake, now rub soothing circles on your back. Combined with the day's activities, your body is relaxing faster than you can stop it.

Bucky must sense it because his arms tighten around you a fraction before he murmurs, "Get some sleep, bunny. You had a long day."

— — —

You awake the next morning in darkness—or, you think it's morning—to the sounds of rustling fabric and a zipper being pulled in the door's vicinity.

"Bucky?" you mumble sleepily.

"Hey," he whispers. His voice sounds distant and a little rough from sleep. Soft footsteps on the carpet tell you he's moving closer before the dimmed light of his phone flickers on, illuminating his face as he crouches near the bed. His hair is mussed from sleep, eyes tired. "I don't mean to leave you like this, but I have to get ready for work. Can I see you later?"

Something inside flutters at the thought.

"Of course. I'll be around." You offer a smile before blinking slowly. He chuckles softly.

"I'll find you," he says, pausing for a moment. "Just…don't cause any trouble today, okay?"

You wave a dismissive hand at him before your head plops back down to the pillow with a small "mm".

He laughs softly before leaving and plunging you back into darkness.

The room is quiet again, but it doesn't feel the same. Cooler. Emptier. Which should feel embarrassing, having only known the man for a day. But sleep overtakes you before you can think too much about it, pulling you back into a warm slumber with the promise of later.

Everything Taglist: @steelandvibranium @phoenix-in-writing @syd-vixious @sebastians-love @overwintering-soldier @wintersgirllost @wint3rbarnes @miraclediviner @barnes-babydoll @sunday-bug @buckytakethewheel @bucksbby @sheriff-bodecker @wherewinterblooms @nikkitabarnes @dei-dreamz @ladymiseryy @ornateglass @galactict3a @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @alyssinwunderland-blog-blog @blue-eyes-in-august

Bucky Taglist: @phantom-wolf-girl @bartonsparrow25 @tw1sters @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @highhopes1008

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James likes to gamble, spending his money on betting and dealing because it is the only thing he cannot guess the outcome. In his life, he has always gotten what he wants; people, things, money—and it begins to bore him now that he knows he will always get them in one way or another.

At the casino, the usual place he would spend his Friday nights with indulgence and chips. At the Roulette table, he was watching the ball spin around the Roulette wheel before it finally clicked into a red slot. A glass of whiskey is then served next to his hand and the cocktail waitress carries the tray of drinks away a second later. 

However, his eyes follow the woman—you, the woman. He remembers the sweet scent of your body touching his nose when your hand reaches to serve. It is the same exact scent his beloved mother used when she was alive. He remembered it too well and now the waitress cannot stop him from thinking about her, after a long, long time.

James becomes interested in you just a few minutes later, his eyes find you everywhere, seeing you work toiling away, serving drinks at one table after another. Because his heart calls you, he finally sends one of his men to bring you to his table. In the meantime, his eyes fixated on you. Not for once, he looks away until you reach his spot.

“You are married.” That was the first thing he noticed, a plain silver ring on your finger. No diamond, not gold either, just a plain dull silver. “Who is your husband then, Mrs?” James sips one more time from his drink. “And why does he let you toiling away in a place like this? Not a gentleman, is he?” Your eyes, in the meantime, observe his appearance and his men. They are all in fine suits and shiny expensive shoes. It’s not difficult to tell he is an influential man in this… kind of world.

“I’m not the sort of person men marry,” you answered innocently with honesty that he started to feel impressed by your words. Another subtle smile forms on your lips as you glance at the silver ring. “Men bother me too much; I pretend I’m promised to another.” A wider smile forms on your face as your eyes become rounded in your own surprise. Then, there is a low rumble in his throat, you’re exactly how he imagined—an intriguing woman.

James’ eyebrows raise as he twirls the glass of his whiskey in slow motion, “You are underestimating yourself too much, sweetheart.” His gaze clings to yours. But you don’t say anything further, just look at him, observing his movements in silence. And at that moment, he could feel the tension and your strong presence very clearly. “Won’t you sit with me for awhile?”  he makes an offer before cutting off what you’re about to say. “Let me manage it—your grumpy manager back there.” With one pointed command, another man from his group approaches your manager and talks it out in your absence. 

 James leans his back against the chair while you adjust yourself before him, feeling a little put of place. “Drink?”

“Black Russian,” the name slips out of your lips in a confident way with a gaze that never leaves his once. 

“Good choice,” James then crooks his finger to call another waitress, “Two Black Russian.” His eyes still burn into you, exactly like how a Black Russian would burn down one’s throat in a stinging but soothing sensation in which he cannot wait to feel that from you.

MASTERLIST: SEBASTIAN STAN's CHARACTER(S)

AUTHOR’s NOTE: I hate Black Russian.

It was a normal Tuesday.

She was in their apartment, hair still damp from the shower wearing one of Bucky’s sweatshirts and sipping coffee like the world wasn’t about to tilt sideways. Bucky was sitting on the couch, barefoot and loose-limbed in a grey t-shirt, scrolling casually through his phone like it was just another day.

He was looking at her.

He had always been the one to initiate; kisses that deepened too quickly, hands that gripped tighter than necessary and moans that begged for release. But right before things tipped over into something raw and feral, he would hesitate.

A beat too long.

A flicker of something behind those ocean blue eyes.

A silent wait.

That day, as naturally as someone might say pass the sugar, he said something. “I want you to take control of me.”

She choked on her sip. “What?” She asked.

He looked up at her, relaxed.

Serious.

A faint grin tugged at his lips, like he had known she’d react exactly like this.

“In bed,” he added. “I want you to take control. I think I’d like it.”

She lowered the mug slowly on the side table, blinking at him like he had grown a second metal arm. “Bucky,” she said carefully, “you want me to… dominate you?”

He shrugged. “I mean... not with... whips and chains unless you’re into that... in that case then we can talk… but yeah. I trust you. I wanna try it.”

She stared.

He stared back.

“I don’t… this isn’t a small thing,” she said, her voice softening. “You were… controlled, for decades. You didn’t get to say no. Or choose what you wanted. And now you’re asking me to do that to you again?”

Bucky nodded once. “Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re the only person I’ve ever been with who doesn’t want something from me. Not like that. You never tried to fix me or treat me like I’m fragile. You make me feel like I’m just… your guy.”

“You are my guy,” she said.

He smiled. “Right. So don’t freak out when I say this is me choosing it. Choosing you. Choosing to let go because it’s you. I’m giving it to.”

Her breath caught. “I don’t want to mess this up,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

“You’re Bucky Barnes. Former Winter Soldier... war hero... treated like a human weapon-”

“…and now I’m a boyfriend,” he cut in gently, “...asking his very loving, slightly over-caffeinated girlfriend to tie him to the headboard and ruin him a little bit.”

She snorted, despite the tears pricking her eyes. He was so strong, now, thinking of the past. She wasn’t.

He grinned. “Look, sweetheart,” he added softer now, “I know what it meant when they took control of me. And it’s not what I’m asking from you. They took everything. I’m giving this to you. There’s a difference.”

She nodded slowly, her throat tight. “And if at any point you need to stop…”

“I’ll tell you,” He promised. “We’ll do safe words, check-ins, whatever you need. But, I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

A long pause. Then she said, “Okay. Let’s talk about it. Rules. Boundaries. What you like.”

His smile grew wide and boyish. “And maybe… when we start, you can call me something? Like ‘good boy’.” 

She smirked. “Get on your knees and ask nicely.”

He blinked. Laughed. “Oh,” he said, eyes darkening. “We’re doing this now?”

She sipped her coffee again. “Don’t keep me waiting, Barnes.”

The first night in control, she led him to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. He sat at the edge of the bed, nervous energy radiating off him, fingers fidgeting in his lap. She stood in front of him, arms crossed.

“Strip,” she said gently but firmly.

He blinked up at her, surprised by the tone, but obeyed. He undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and the sculpted lines of muscle beneath. She let her eyes rake over every inch of him, and he flushed under her gaze.

“Slower,” she instructed when he moved to undo his belt. He nodded, face pink, and slowed down.

Each movement became deliberate, sensual. He slid the belt through the loops, then slightly lift his hips pushing his pants down, until he stood in nothing but his briefs already thigh.

She stepped closer and tilted his chin up. “Colour?”

“Green,” he whispered.

“Good boy,” she murmured, and his breath shuddered at the praise.

“You like that?” She teased. “You like being called my good boy?” He nodded, jaw clenched, trying not to whimper. “Say it.”

“Yes. I like it,” he admitted. “I like it when you take over.”

“I know, baby,” she said. “I can tell. You’ve been holding back. But not tonight.”

She pushed his back onto the bed and climbed over him, straddling his hips. She ground slowly against his cock through the fabric, and he whimpered, his hands twitching beside him. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.

“Can I tie you up?” His eyes went wide, they were seriously doing it, so he nodded immediately. “Use your words, Bucky.”

“Yes. Please,” he said breathlessly. “I trust you.”

She reached into the drawer and pulled out soft restraints not metal, not rough, just fabric and secured them to the headboard. He laid there, gorgeous and vulnerable, looking at her like she had hung the moon. She kissed him then deep, slow, claiming.

“You’re doing so well for me,” she whispered into his mouth. His cock twitched. She kissed down his throat, over his chest, and when she flicked her tongue over his nipple, he gasped. “Sensitive?” She teased.

“Yes,” he panted. “Please, keep going.”

She toyed with him a little longer, watching him writhe before finally slipping off his briefs. His cock sprang free hard, leaking, desperate. She wrapped her hand around him and stroked slowly and firmly. He moaned, head thrown back.

“You’re being so good for me, baby,” she purred.

“Please… please don’t stop,” he begged.

She smiled wickedly. “Oh, I’m not stopping. Not until you ask me to.” His eyes darkened with lust. She pumped him steadily while she kissed and bit at his neck, murmuring praise between every whimper he gave her.

Then she let go.

“Wha-?” he panted.

“Did I say you would come?”

He shook his head, dizzy with want.

“Exactly. You’ll wait until I say so.” She reached between her legs, wet and aching, and slid down onto him without warning. He shouted, hips jerking up, restrained arms pulling instinctively.

“Fuck!” he gasped. “God, baby-”

She started riding him slow and deep, grinding in a way that had both on the edge in seconds. “You feel so fucking good,” she groaned, nails dragging down his chest.

He moaned, eyes rolling back. “I can’t-I can’t hold it-”

“Yes, you can,” she whispered against his lips. “Be a good boy for mommy. Just a little longer.”

“Y/N... please.”

“I said wait.”

And he did. Shaking, trembling, teeth gritted but he obeyed.

When she finally let him come, it was with her hand around his throat and her lips at his ear. “Now,” she growled. “Cum for me.”

He broke. His whole body arched, cock pulsing inside her, the sounds he made utterly wrecked. She kept moving, pushing him through it, riding out her own climax moments later as he sobbed her name.

Aftercare was slow, tender. She removed the restrain, kissed his wrists where the fabric had left marks, and ran a warm cloth over every inch of him. He clung to her afterward, head tucked into her neck like a child.

“You okay?” She whispered.

He nodded against her skin. “That was the best I’ve ever felt.”

She kissed his hair. “You were perfect. My perfect boy.”

His voice was a whisper. “I want more. Next time… can you make me beg harder?”

She grinned. “Oh, baby,” she murmured. “We’re just getting started.”

“That was…” he whispered. “Incredible.”

“You’re seriously okay?” she murmured again.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” he said.

She nuzzled into him, heart full, body humming.

I want more. Next time… can you make me beg harder

His words still echoed in her mind. She was straddling him again but this time, he trembled before she even touched him. The restraints were tighter that night. His arms stretched above him, biceps flexed with tension, wrists bound in black leather cuffs. Being a super soldier would have allowed him to easily break the cuffs, but that night he wasn’t Bucky Barnes the super soldier. He was Bucky Barnes Y/N’s little toy.

She had blindfolded him too because that night, he had wanted more. He had wanted it harder. Rougher. Deeper. And she was going to give it to him. “Colour, baby?” She asked softly, stroking his jaw.

“Green,” he replied, voice already hoarse. “Please, just do whatever you want with me.”

She hummed approvingly and dragged her nails down his chest, slow and cruel, watching the way his body arched to meet the sting. “You want to be used?” She whispered, lips brushing his throat. “You want me to fuck you like you’re just a toy?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want that. Please.”

She slapped his thigh, just hard enough to make him flinch. “What’s my name, baby?”

“Ma’am,” he said instantly. “Sorry... ma'am.”

“Good boy,” she purred. “Now open your mouth.”

He obeyed without hesitation, tongue out like he was worshipping her. She spat. He moaned so loud it shook her spine.

“You’re disgusting,” she said sweetly, wiping her thumb across his wet bottom lip. “I love it.”

He groaned, hips bucking uselessly into the air. “Ma’am, I need-”

“You don’t need anything except what I give you,” she snapped, grabbing his throat not hard, just enough to remind him who he belonged to. “You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, already nearly wrecked.

She reached between her legs, teasing herself while he strained against the cuffs, desperate to see, to touch, to feel more. Then she lowered herself onto his cock in one smooth, brutal motion. He screamed. “Shut the fuck up,” she hissed, clamping a hand over his mouth. “You don’t want the neighbours to know how desperate you are, do you?”

He shook his head, hips trembling, cock pulsing inside her.

She started riding him hard. No teasing this time. Just a punishing pace, relentless grind, skin slapping and nails digging into his chest. “You like being used, huh?” she growled. “Like being tied down while I fuck myself on you?”

His muffled moan was frantic. She pulled her hand off his mouth just as he gasped, “I’m gonna come, I-fuck, I can’t-”

She stopped moving entirely.

“Ma’am-!”

She slapped him again. “Did I say you could come?”

“No, ma’am,” he panted. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... please don’t stop-”

She leaned in close, her voice low and cruel. “If you cum without permission, I’ll edge you all night and leave you in the cuffs until morning. Understood?”

He shook violently. “Yes. Please. I’ll be good. I swear.”

She started riding him again but slower now. Controlled. Torturously deep. She watched his face twist beneath the blindfold, listening to the little sobs he tried to choke down. He was crying by the time she let him speak again.

“Ma’am,” he begged. “Please. I can’t take it...I need to come..I need to cum for you...”

“You want to cum for me, sweetheart?” She whispered.

He nodded furiously. “Please. I’ll do anything.”

She slid her fingers into his mouth and let him suck on them like he was starved. “You’ll come when I say,” she growled. “And you’ll thank me for it.”

“Y-yes... thank you... ma’am-thank you...”

And then she finally let go. She bounced on him hard, merciless, grabbing his jaw, his throat, anything she could reach as she fucked both toward the edge. “Cum for me,” she ordered. “Now.”

He shattered beneath her. He came with a scream, shaking so violently she thought the cuffs might snap. She rode it out, fucked him through it until he was gasping, sobbing, still hard from how wrecked she had made him.

She leaned down, tongue in his mouth, voice soft again. “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect little toy.”

He whimpered. “Thank you. Thank you, ma’am. I love you.”

She smiled and cupped his flushed, tear-streaked face. “I love you too.”

He was still twitching inside her. His skin was flushed, his breathing shallow, arms boneless at his sides where they now rested free, but not reaching. He didn’t touch her unless she let him. She had ruined him, and he had loved every second of it. And she was still straddling him, her thighs trembling, soaked and sore and aching in the best possible way. But she hadn’t moved. Not really. She was still wrapped around him. His cock, softening, was still inside her and she wasn’t letting him go. Not yet. She leaned down, hands bracketing either side of his head, her breath warm against his lips.

“Don’t pull out,” she whispered.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy. “Wha-?”

She smiled. “Just stay there. Stay inside me. I want to feel you.”

His pupils went wide again, and the sound he made was somewhere between a whimper and a sob. “You-you wanna just…” he trailed off, blinking up at her like she had handed him the moon.

“Yes, baby,” she murmured, nuzzling into his jaw. “You feel so warm. So full. So mine.”

He shivered. She shifted just slightly, just enough to press him deeper into her, and his breath caught like she had punched the air from his lungs. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I-Ma’am-please…”

“Please what?” She asked sweetly, stroking his damp hair back from his forehead.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, honest and wrecked. “I just-please don’t stop touching me.”

She smiled, tender and possessive all at once. “I’m not stopping, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere.”

She rolled her hips just once slow and cruel and he jerked, overstimulated, tears still fresh on his cheeks. Her chest pressed to his.

“Too much?” She asked softly.

“Too good,” he breathed. “I wanna take it. I wanna be good.”

“Oh, you are good,” she cooed. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever had.”

She didn’t move again. Not really. She let him feel every inch of her heat around him, soft and slow and pulsing with afterglow. She tilted his face up to kiss him slow, languid, worshipful. And Bucky just lay there, blissed out and pliant under her hands, letting her own him in the quiet aftermath. He didn’t even flinch when she tucked her hand between their sweaty bodies, reaching down to trace a circle over her clit not to come again, just to feel the pressure with his cock still buried inside. He whined, eyes fluttering shut again.

“You’re gonna stay like this for a while,” she whispered. “Let me soak you up.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You like being inside me, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “I’d live here if you let me.”

She grinned. “Maybe I will.”

And she meant it. Because she loved the way he melted. She loved how soft he got after she broke him. She loved the way his hands trembled when they finally touched her, reverent and careful like she was made of stardust. She loved that he had asked for this. And now he was hers. So she held him there, cock still buried deep, heart beating against hers, until they both fell asleep together, still connected, still full. Because that was what he wanted. And she would give him everything.

The morning sunlight spilled through the blinds in soft golden strips across the room. He was still asleep when she woke. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and his face tucked into her neck like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

One of his legs was draped almost over her thigh, and she realized with a soft fluttering ache, that he wasn’t planning to let her go anytime soon.

Her body was sore. Deliciously sore. But her mind… was uneasy.

She kept replaying the night before in her head; the slaps, the pressure, the things she had said. The sounds he made when she made him beg. The tears in his eyes. The way he screamed when he came. She had loved it. He seemed to love it.

But what if it had been too much? What if she had missed something?

She brushed a hand through his messy hair, feeling him nuzzle closer, a low hum vibrating in his throat. He was still half-asleep when she slowly slipped him out of her. Still conscious of her presence, even in that foggy haze.

“Why did you do that? You’re not allowed to get up.”

“You’re bossy again now?” She chuckled quietly. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. He shifted and pulled her tighter. “You’re my pillow now.”

“Bucky…”

He paused. She didn’t mean to say it like that, quiet and uncertain. She felt him stiffen slightly. He pulled back just enough to look at her. She already slid off his body. She didn’t say anything at first. She just looked at him. The sleepiness still in his eyes, the red marks on his neck from her finger, the faint fading lines from the restraints on his wrists.

Then she asked, barely above a whisper, “Was it… too much?” He blinked. “I mean last night,” she added quickly. “The slapping. The edging. The cockwarming. The way I talked to you. You cried, Bucky. I-I just need to know it was okay.”

“The cock-what?” He asked, blinking slowly.

“Is… when you were inside me without moving,” she replied a little embarrassed, worried he only cared about the definition. He nodded. 

“So? The other things?” She asked again. He stared at her like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then he propped himself up on one elbow and took her hand into both of his like it was the most precious thing he’d ever held.

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse and full of heat and tenderness, “that was the most loved I’ve ever felt in my entire life.” Her eyes stung. “I’m serious,” he said, low and warm. “You were perfect. You were careful. You asked my colour. You stopped when I needed it. You touched me after. You kissed me. You... you held me.” Then, his eyes glittering, he added, “Even that cock… something…”

She laughed. “Cockwarming.”

“Yeah!” He laughed too, dropping his head to her chest. “Cockwarming. Definitely ten outta ten.”

She breathed relieved, amused and totally overwhelmed by how much she loved him. “But I slapped you,” she said suddenly.

He smiled. “And I nearly came from it.”

She blinked. “You did?”

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed softly, “you could’ve spat in my mouth and slapped me again and I’d have thanked you.” She flushed. “Which you did... and if I remembered correctly, I did thank you.” He replied, laughing. “But I’m serious,” he continued. “You weren’t too much. You were exactly what I needed. I felt so safe. Seen. So…” He trailed off, breath catching. Then, softly. “I felt yours. And I wanted that.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” he said fiercely. “You gave me everything I didn’t know how to ask for.” He kissed her cheeks. Her jaw. Her nose. And then he rolled on top of her, not with hunger or dominance, but with pure, desperate affection.

“Can we just stay here?” he whispered. “All day? I wanna hold you. I wanna fall asleep inside you again. I wanna have breakfast naked and have you drag me back to bed before the coffee even brews.”

She laughed against his chest. “I want that too,” she whispered.

“You didn’t scare me,” he murmured. “You made me feel free.”

Her heart clenched. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,” she said, eyes shining.

He grinned. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss her slow and deep. “Then let’s ruin me again tonight.”

The apartment now smelled like coffee, warm maple syrup, and sin. Bucky stood at the stove completely naked, except for a dish towel slung over one shoulder like he’d remembered to be domestic, just not dressed.

His back was all muscle and bite marks, his neck littered with evidence of how the morning started, his hair messily tied up, strands falling over his cheekbones. He flipped pancakes with focus, but not enough to ignore her as she strolled past behind him equally bare, stealing a strawberry from the counter and kissing his shoulder as she did. He made a soft sound something between a sigh and a moan and leaned into her touch like gravity worked differently when she was near.

She then perched on the counter stool legs crossed grinning, as he brought over two plates cock swaying slightly as he walked not caring at all. He set them down and leaned in to kiss her. “You’re really committing to this naked-breakfast thing,” he murmured against her lips.

She smirked. “Oh, I declared it. It’s law now.”

He chuckled, nose brushing hers. “Then I better never wear clothes again.”

Breakfast took a long time. The coffee went cold.

They ate like that, bare knees bumping, syrup sticky on fingers and mouths. She licked it off his thumb at one point and he dropped his fork with a groan. And when he ended up on his knees between her legs again, she decided that naked-breakfast might be the best idea he ever had.

"You made me feel so good," Bucky murmured, voice thick with devotion, lips already ghosting over the inside of her thigh as he knelt between her legs. His eyes, impossibly blue and blown wide with hunger, looked up at her like she was the only religion he'd ever worship.

“I need to return the favour,” he added, tone teasing but reverent, like the act wasn’t just desire, but duty.

A promise.

She didn’t oppose. Didn’t say a word. Just leaned back on the stool, legs falling wider apart as if to say "Yes. Take what you want".

And Bucky did. Not with greed. With purpose.

He turned the stool, so her back was completely against the counter and then he kissed her between her thighs like she was a sacred thing. Like tasting her was a right he had to earn, again and again. His hands slid beneath her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. He groaned like her pleasure fed him. And she let go utterly, completely because when Bucky Barnes made a promise, especially with his mouth…

He meant it. In that moment, the submissive Bucky Barnes was long forgotten. But just for that breakfast.

She curled up on the couch, the late afternoon sunlight painting soft gold across the living room. Bucky sat beside her, knees almost touching, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. There was something in the air, a mix of excitement and hesitation that made her heart skip. He looked up at her, eyes steady but uncertain.

“Hey,” he said quietly. She smiled, waiting.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, voice low. She tilted her head. “I want to try something,” he said. “Something… a little spicy.” She raised an eyebrow.

Were this two days not spicy enough? She thought.

He exhaled, then chuckled nervously. “Like, I want you to control me more. Outside the bedroom.”

She blinked. “Outside? Like, in public?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Like, I want to feel you have that power. Even when we’re not alone.” Her mind raced thrill.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What do you mean exactly?”

He pulled something small from his pocket a sleek vibrating ring. “I want you to use this on me,” he said, cheeks colouring. “At dinner. Or a movie. Somewhere public. I want to feel you… teasing me. Controlling me. But no one else knows.” She stared at the ring in her hand, still amazed he had even suggested it.

“How do you even know about this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky smirked, a rare mischievous glint lighting up his blue eyes. “Hydra didn’t just break me,” he said softly. “They… experimented. Control... submission... all kinds of things. I learned a few things about what made me tick.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “But this?” She said, holding up the ring. “This was your idea?”

He nodded, voice low. “Yeah. Took me a while to admit it. But I knew what I wanted now.”

She studied him. The idea sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “Are you sure?” She asked softly. “It’s a lot.”

He met her gaze without hesitation. “I trusted you. It was a lot back then, now... it's something hot and exciting I want to try with my girl.”

She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

His smile was shy, hopeful. “Thank you,” he whispered almost relieved.

She leaned in and kissed his temple. “Tonight’s going to be fun.” She smiled, leaning in close. “You’re full of surprises, Sergeant Barnes.”

He grinned, brushing a hand down her arm. “Only for you.”

That night, the small vibrating ring slipped beneath his trousers as they headed out. Their secret, her power and his surrender all wrapped up in one electric thrill.

He stood still in the bedroom, already dressed in slacks and nothing else, his black dress shirt still hanging open. His chest rose and fell slowly as she stepped toward him, holding the black ring between her fingers. His pupils blew wide at the sight of it.

“You remember what this does, right?” She asked, voice soft but firm.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smirked. “Good.”

He watched her drop to her knees in front of him, his breath catching as her fingers slipped the ring on slowly, deliberately around the base of his cock letting the snug stretch claim him fully. He hissed under his breath, hips jerking slightly as the cool touch gave way to tight warmth.

She pressed the pad of her thumb lightly against the button on the side. It didn’t buzz yet, but the threat of it did more than enough. “You’ll wear it through dinner,” she murmured, rising to her feet, smoothing down her dress. “No complaining. No fidgeting. No coming.”

Bucky nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

She leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “If you behave, maybe I’ll ride you while it’s still on.”

He groaned softly, bit down on it to stay still. She kissed his cheek, sweet and possessive, then stepped back to grab her clutch. “Now be a good boy,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the door. “And don’t make me press the button while we’re ordering appetizers.”

His cock throbbed inside the ring. And he followed her like he’d been summoned.

The restaurant bustled ambient chatter, clinking glasses, the soft murmur of a jazz band playing in the corner. She sat across from Bucky, her fingers casually wrapped around the stem of her wine glass. His gaze kept flicking to her, curious and tense. Because beneath his tailored black trousers, hidden beneath the table, he wore the small vibrating ring she had slipped on him before dinner.

She toyed with the discreet remote in her pocket, pressing the button lightly. A soft buzz rolled through him. Bucky’s breath hitched just slightly. He cleared his throat, pretending to study the menu. She pressed again. Harder this time. Heat flooded his face. His fingers tightened around his napkin.

She leaned forward on the table, voice low but clear. “Good boy,” she murmured, eyes locked on his. He swallowed. She pressed the button once more. A burst of vibration rocked him. He bit his lip, trying to keep his composure. His pulse thundered in his neck. She watched him struggle silent, obedient. The waiter approached with their food. Bucky kept his voice steady.

“Thank you.”

She smiled.

Later, when the coast was clear, she pressed the button again, this time holding it. Bucky’s hips twitched. His hand twitched on his thigh, but he kept it still. He looked up at her. Eyes bright, pleading.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”

She shook her head with mock severity. “Not yet,” she said. She leaned down, her foot brushing his under the table. “You belong to me.”

He exhaled, surrendering. The rest of dinner passed in delicious tension. His control slipping, her power rising.

Later, in the privacy of her apartment, she undid him. His breath caught. “You did so well,” she praised, trailing kisses down his neck. He melted against her, the weight of obedience and trust pressing between them like a secret treasure.

The door had barely clicked shut behind them before she had him against it. Bucky’s breath came in sharp, shallow pants as she tugged at his tie, loosening it with one hand while the other slid down his chest. His shirt was wrinkled, his jaw tense and his cock, still caged in his slacks, was rock-hard and twitching inside the vibrating ring she never once activated during dinner. But he felt it. Every second. Its snug grip. The threat of it. The weight of her control.

“Please,” he rasped, eyes blown wide, hands clenched at his sides. “Please touch me-please, I’ve been so good-”

“I know,” she purred, dragging her lips along the line of his throat. “I watched you squirm through three courses without making a sound.”

She pushed his jacket off his shoulders, fingers quick to undo his belt. The second his cock sprang free, she pressed the button in her clutch.

The ring came to life.

Bucky groaned like he’d been shot, knees buckling slightly as the low hum buzzed around the base of his cock, behind his balls, vibrations shooting straight through him. “Fuck-baby, fuck-”

“Bedroom,” she ordered.

He stumbled down the hall, panting, moaning, too far gone to speak. By the time he reached the edge of the bed, she was behind him again, nails down his spine, mouth at his ear.

“On your back.” He obeyed instantly, cock twitching in the air, the toy still humming around him. She climbed on top, straddling his hips, and reached down to line him up. He whimpered.

“Color?” She whispered.

“Green,” he gasped. “So green, please, I need to be inside you-”

She slid down onto him in one smooth motion, and Bucky cried out. His hands shot up instinctively, but she caught his wrists and pinned above his head. The vibrating ring pressed tight at the base of his cock, amplifying every stroke, every squeeze of her walls around him. “Oh my god-oh my-please, I’m not gonna last-”

His eyes rolled back. She rode him hard fast, deep, controlled. The friction from the ring made every thrust feel impossibly intense, and Bucky was unraveling fast, every moan turning into a choked sob.

“You’re such a good toy,” she whispered, leaning over him. “So perfect like this. Owned. Ruined.”

“Yours,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Only yours-please-please let me cum-”

“Beg.” He did.

Every filthy word, every broken plea. And finally, finally, when she felt him start to lose control.

“Now,” she whispered. “Cum for me, baby.”

Bucky shattered. He came with a cry so loud it echoed, cock throbbing wildly inside her, the vibrations only making it more intense. He trembled beneath her, gasping, helpless, the ring still humming at the base of his spent cock. She stayed on top of him, let him ride it out, let him feel everything. Only when his body went limp did she finally press the button again, turning it off. He blinked up at her, flushed and dazed, eyes glassy with satisfaction.

“I think I saw god,” he mumbled.

She smiled, brushing sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “No, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him. “You saw me.” And he smiled back like that was so much better.

Since Bucky became aware of the toys you could use on him, she decided it was her time to play. The teasing started long before the limo pulled up to the Avengers’ tower. Bucky wore a black-on-black suit that fit like sin. His hair slicked back but still a little unruly near his ears. His metal hand rested on your thigh.

She wore that dress, the one with the slit high enough to kill and not back to speak of. But it wasn’t the dress undoing him. It was the toy. The small, remote-controlled vibrator tucked inside her. 

He knew it was there because he put it in her, right before they left the apartment on her instruction, on his knees, kissing your thighs while she stood over him in heels tall in front of him, already dressed in that backless black gown commanding.

Bucky knelt between her legs, obedient and reverent, his large hands steady as he held the small toy and followed her instructions to the letter. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh then another, higher this time, lips lingering against her skin like he didn’t want to stop. The air was thick with tension, with need, with control.

She didn’t touch him. Just looked down and said, softly, “Good boy.”

And Bucky, hard in his slacks, flushed with submission. Felt pride flood his chest. He slid the toy inside her with care and trembling hands. Then he sat back on his heels and looked up at her like she hung the stars. She hadn’t turned it on yet. Not once. She just wanted him to think about it. So you leaned over in the limo, lips brushing his ear. 

“Be good for me tonight,” you whispered. “Or I’ll make it buzz right when Steve gives his speech.”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled. “Good boy.”

The gala was elegant, classy, and boring as hell. Until she made eye contact with Bucky from across the ballroom and pressed the remote in your clutch. The toy buzzed to life inside her. Just enough to make her legs twitch. He noticed the twitch, eyeing her like an eagle.

Suddenly, he was aware of her movements only, of her perfume thanks to his enhanced sense of smell. He choked over his champagne flute. He tried to pretend everything was fine, but his jaw clenched and his hand tightened around the glass. His eyes burning a hole in your dress.

She raised your glass to him with a smile.

Across the room, he mouthed Please.

She raised the intensity one notch. His fingers twitched. By the time she pulled him into the elevator, his hands were shaking.

He had been hard for over an hour, struggling to focus, fighting the urge to drop to his knees and beg.

“You having fun?” She murmured, pressing him against the wall.

“Ma’am,” he gasped, “please let me taste you. Please. I need to make you cum...please.” She hummed, considering.

Then said, “On your knees. Right here.”

His eyes widened. She hit the emergency stop button and he dropped.

Right there in the Tower elevator, suit wrinkled and tie undone, Bucky pushed your dress up and spread your thighs, devouring you like he was starving.

Like worship.

Like repentance.

Like it was his purpose in life.

She came against his mouth in minutes shuddering and moaning. Her fingers tangled in his hair while the city spun behind you through the glass elevator wall. He was rock-hard and dripping in his pants, panting, looking up at her like he needed her to end him.

But she wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Back in their apartment, she dragged him straight to the mirror in the bedroom. He was still in his suit, shirt open, tie hanging around his neck.

She pushed him into the chair in front of the full-length mirror and straddled his lap. “You’re going to watch this time,” she said, grabbing his jaw.

“W-What?” He stammered.

“You’re going to watch yourself fall apart while I ride you. Eyes open. Hands behind your back. Don’t look away.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he choked out, breathless.

She slid down onto him in one long, slow thrust, and he whined. Her hand clamped around his throat, just enough to hold him still. “Look at you,” she murmured. “Look how desperate you are for me.”

He flushed, panting, trembling under her, watching your body move over his in the mirror.

“Such a good toy,” she whispered. “So fucking pretty when you beg.” She rode him slow at first deep, grinding movements that pushed him to the edge. His moans broke into sobs. “I’m gonna cum-I can’t-”

She squeezed his throat. “No.”

He shook. Whimpered. Fought for control. And she didn’t stop.

“You’ll cum when I say. Not before. Look in the mirror and see what you do for me, baby. Look how perfect you are.”

He screamed when she finally said the words.

“Cum, baby. Cum for me.”

And he did shaking, eyes locked on hers in the mirror, sobbing her name as he came so hard she felt him throb inside you. But she didn’t lift off yet.

She just leaned in and kissed his temple. “Stay there,” you whispered. “Stay inside me, again.”

You both sat there, bodies tangled, still connected, still full.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “I love being yours.”

She kissed his jaw. “I love owning you.”

She hadn’t planned on losing her mind in public.

It started as a normal event, another stuffy Stark-hosted charity gala, another excuse for her and Bucky to show up in matching black and look devastating together. And Bucky? He again looked like sin in a suit.

The dark navy tux hugged his frame like it was made for him, sleeves tight around his biceps, chest mouth-wateringly broad. His hair was tied back, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He was all smiles and charm, like nothing could rattle him. Until someone tried.

A woman tall, blonde, sharp drifted over during a lull in the conversations. She wore red lipstick and a confidence that read entitled. Her eyes dragged over Bucky’s frame like she was picking something off a menu.

“Oh my god,” she purred. “You’re James Barnes, aren’t you?”

Bucky smiled, polite. “Just Bucky.”

She leaned in, touching his arm, her nails painted blood-red. “Well, Bucky, if you’re not doing anything later…”

She stood right beside him. That woman knew. She didn’t care. Y/N saw Bucky stiffen slightly, polite discomfort but he was still too kind to shut it down cold. And something in her snapped.

Not because she thought he’d cheat. Not because she was insecure. But because he was hers. And someone was touching what was hers like they had a right. Bucky glanced at her, reading your expression immediately. He said nothing but his posture changed. He straightened. Submitted. Even now, in public. She leaned in and took his glass from his hand slow, casual, but loaded with meaning. Then she slid your hand down the center of his back.

“Baby,” she said with a smile so sharp it could draw blood, “can you get me a drink?”

He nodded, instantly. “Yes, ma’am.”

The woman blinked.

Ma’am?

But she was already turning to her. “That’s my boyfriend,” she said sweetly. “And I don’t share.” Her mouth opened to respond. You didn’t wait to hear it.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked quietly some minutes later. She shook her head once, but she didn’t answer. His breath stuttered. The elevator doors closed behind her with a soft mechanical hiss. And she still didn’t say a word. She stood beside him in silence arms crossed, lips tight, her expression unreadable. Bucky shifted his weight slightly.

“Baby…” She didn’t look at him. His voice softened. Careful. Testing. “I didn’t even look at her.”

Still, she said nothing.

She stared ahead at the metal doors, jaw clenched and her heart still hammering with that sick, hot mix of adrenaline and jealousy.

He glanced at her, worry flickering behind his eyes. “Please don’t shut down on me,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”

She finally spoke with voice low, calm, and sharp enough to cut. “She touched you.” Bucky blinked. “She touched you,” she repeated, turning to face him now. “Ran her hand down your arm like I wasn’t even standing next to you.”

“I didn’t want her to,” he said quickly. “I froze. I didn’t even look at her, I swear-”

“I know,” she said. “I know, Bucky. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He hesitated. “Then why won’t you look at me like you usually do?”

She sighed, long and tight. “Because I’m mad,” she said. “I’m mad that someone else thought they had the right to even lay a finger on what belongs to me.”

His breath caught. And slowly, almost instinctively, he stepped closer. Eyes wide. Submissive. She didn’t touch him yet. But he already looked like he was melting under the weight of her stare.

“You know I’m yours,” he whispered.

“I know you are,” she snapped, voice rising just a little. “But maybe she didn’t.” She grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him against her. “Never let other women touch you,” she growled.

“I swear it won’t happen again.”

“I know,” she snapped. “You were good. Polite. Too polite.”

His voice was a whisper. “Are you going to punish me?”

She stopped the elevator. “Pants down.”

“Here?”

She arched an eyebrow. “That’s not the first time in this elevator,” she said in a low and dangerous tone. He swallowed and immediately dropped his trousers. They fell to his ankles with a soft rustle, and his cock sprang free already half-hard just from her tone, her silence, her power. She stepped in front of him, pressed her body close. And she wrapped her hand around him. He gasped.

“Color?” She murmured.

“Fucking green,” he said without hesitation. “Please.”

“Good boy.” She stroked him slowly, her fingers gliding from base to tip in tight, deliberate motions. He moaned low, his head dropping to her shoulder, hips twitching forward as he melted into her touch.

“This what you wanted?” She murmured against his neck. “Some stranger staring at your cock like she had the right?”

“No-no, ma’am-I didn’t-fuck-”

She tightened her grip and picked up speed, dragging her fist up and down with a rhythm that made his knees shake. His breath was hot and ragged, lips parted, brow furrowed in desperate pleasure. And just as his moans grew louder, she reached behind him. And pressed the elevator button. The elevator lurched back to life, beginning its slow ascent.

Bucky whimpered, eyes flying open. “Fuck... are we...?”

“Yes,” she purred, lips brushing his ear. “Let’s see how well you behave now.” He trembled. She didn’t stop stroking him.

The lights ticked upward: 9… 8… 7…

He was panting now, cock pulsing in her grip, his voice nothing more than a choked whine. “Please-ma’am-please-someone might-”

She squeezed just under the head, hard enough to make his whole-body jerk. “Oh, now you’re shy?” She sneered. “Where was that modesty when she had her hand on your arm?”

“I-I didn’t want her-I swear-”

The elevator dinged again. Almost at the exit floor. She stopped, suddenly. Just like that. Let go. Stepped back.

“Pants up.” He stared at you wrecked, leaking, panting, eyes wide and dazed. “W-What?”

“You heard me,” she said coolly, fixing her lipstick in the reflection of the steel doors. “Pants up, soldier.”

He fumbled with his zipper, cock twitching uselessly, breath still shuddering in his lungs. Just as the doors opened, he managed to get himself tucked in.

She stepped out first. “Next time someone looks at you like you’re theirs,” she said over your shoulder, “remember what I didn’t let you have.” She heard him groan softly, footsteps slow behind her. And she smiled. Because he was dripping hard in his pants. And still so fucking her.

He was still panting by the time she got him inside the apartment. Now naked, flushed, his cock angry-red and still leaking from the hand job in the elevator, he stood in the middle of her bedroom, trembling slightly, still under the spell of her power. 

“On the chair,” she said calmly.

He moved without hesitation. She watched him sit thighs spread, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like he had been through a war. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed and slid out of her dress. No rush. She let him see everything. He made a soft, helpless sound when her fingers slipped into her panties.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” she warned. He nodded, biting down on his lip so hard it turned white. She lay back on the bed, legs parted, fingers slipping between her folds as she locked eyes with him. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

His jaw dropped slightly. “Fuck,” he whispered.

She slid two fingers inside herself and moaned, just loud enough to make his cock twitch. Bucky shifted in the chair, his hands still obediently behind his back, but his thighs shook, his chest heaved.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes. Please. I’ve been good. I was good for you-”

“You were,” she hummed. “But this is your reward.”

She circled her clit with slow, steady pressure, letting him see every arch of her back and every twitch of her thighs. She moaned his name. His eyes fluttered. But he still didn’t move. Because she hadn’t told him to. She dragged it out, letting herself fall apart slowly, deliberately, with his eyes glued to her the whole time. When her legs started to tremble and her moans grew louder, she opened her eyes and stared at him.

“Keep watching, baby.”

He whined, desperate and stunned, cock pulsing against his thigh.

And then she came, gasping his name, thighs clenched tight, fingers slick and shaking. He made a soft, broken sound like it hurt not to be touching her. She panted, catching her breath, then sat up slowly.

“Colour?” she asked.

“Green,” he said instantly. “So fucking green.”

She smiled.

“Good.” She walked toward him naked, glowing, slick with satisfaction. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Now,” she murmured, wrapping her hand around his cock. “Now I’ll let you fall apart.”

He sobbed in relief. She ruined him with her mouth, finger tasting of herself, because he earned it. Because he watched. Obeyed. Surrendered. Because he was hers. She made him stand up, then pushed him down onto the mattress, face-up, spread his thighs, and climbed on top of him. No teasing. No warm-up.

Just her nails raking down his chest, her hand around his throat, her body lowering onto his cock in one slick, deep stroke.

“Fuck!” he gasped, hips jerking. “Keep still,” she growled.

He gripped the sheets. She rode him hard, punishing, hips slapping against his with brutal rhythm. His moans broke into cries needy and high, begging with his eyes even though his mouth didn’t dare speak.

She leaned down, lips at his ear. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “No one else touches what’s mine.”

“No one,” he choked. “Just you-just you, I swear-”

She slapped his thigh. “I know. But I need you to feel it.”

She rode him until he sobbed, begging, coming with her name on his lips like a prayer. She didn’t stop. He whimpered overstimulated, sensitive but she fucked him through it, owning every last shudder.

When she finally collapsed on top of him, both soaked in sweat, her fingers slid up to his jaw, gentle now. “Are you okay?” She asked.

He nodded shakily. “Perfect.”

“Too much?”

He kissed her forehead. “Not enough. Do it again next time someone looks at me like that.”

She huffed a laugh. “You like when I get jealous?”

He grinned, dazed and love-drunk. “I like when you remind me I belong to you.”

She didn’t blame Bucky. She never blamed Bucky. He had stood next to her the entire time, polite and awkward, doing his best to quietly shift away from the woman clearly eye-fucking him across the bar.

She touched his arm.

She laughed at a joke he didn’t even make.

She leaned in, too close, acting like she wasn’t standing right there with her hand around his waist.

And Bucky? He just stood frozen, because he was too good, too careful, too Bucky to snap at a stranger. Too loyal to give her the time of day. But she? She wasn’t built to stay quiet. By the time the woman finally walked away, lips pouted, and pride wounded, Bucky turned to her like he had just stepped out of a minefield. She smiled at him. Sweetly. Too sweetly.

And he knew. “Baby,” he said slowly, carefully, “I didn’t-”

“I know,” she said. “You were perfect.”

He relaxed a little. But that tight, polite smile was still stretched across her lips. And he knew better than to think she’d let it go.

“You going to tell me why you let her put her hands on you like that?” She asked.

His brows lifted, stunned. “I didn’t let her do anything, I didn’t even touch her. I just froze, I guess, when she touched me. I would never cheat on you, doll.”

“I know that,” she said, voice sharp. “I know you would never. But she sure as hell thought she could.”

He blinked. “So… you’re mad at her?”

“I’m furious at her,” she hissed. “For thinking she could flirt with you like I don’t exist.”

Bucky’s breath caught at that.

She paused, swallowed. “I got scared.”

He turned toward her, eyes wide.

“Scared?” He echoed.

She nodded. “Because what if I’m too much?” She whispered. “Too bossy. Too rough. What if you realize you want someone softer? Someone who doesn’t order you around, who doesn’t make you get on your knees in elevators or beg not to come someone who just lets you be?”

There was silence. Then the soft sound of sheets shifting as he pushed up onto his elbows. His voice was ragged quiet, but absolutely clear.

“These last few days with you controlling me? They were the best of my life.” She looked at him, startled. His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, mouth trembling. “You don’t make me feel small,” he said. “You make me feel safe. You give me the one thing no one ever did.”

“Choice...” Her throat tightened.

“Exaclty. I asked you to do that to me.” His voice broke the silence, low and steady against the top of her head. She lifted her gaze to meet his, confused. He looked down at her like she hung the stars. “All of it,” he said softly. “The orders. The edging. The teasing. The elevator. The way you grabbed my jaw and told me I was yours in front of a goddamn mirror.”

She blushed. He leaned in closer, brushing his nose along hers. “I wanted that. I wanted you. I asked for this. Not because I want to be punished. Not because I feel guilty. Because it feels like freedom.”

Her throat tightened more. He continued, voice barely more than a whisper “I don’t want someone soft. I want someone who sees me. Who knows how to own me without erasing me. Who makes me feel like giving up control is the bravest thing I’ve ever done... and you, baby?” He cupped her cheek, gentle but firm. “You give that to me.”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the safety of him. The weight of his words sank into her bones. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her, slow and tender. “You don’t have to say thank you for giving me what I begged you for.”

She curled against his chest, fingers curled into his skin. “So, you’re really okay?” She murmured.

“Okay?” He echoed. “More than okay.” He added, “I don’t want softer,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “I want you. I want your orders, your hands, your voice in my ear telling me I’m yours. That’s what I need.”

She crawled into his arms and buried her face in his neck, holding him close.

He kissed her forehead. “You can be as bossy as you want,” he said, smiling softly. “Just never stop being mine.”

She nodded against his chest. “Never.”

Later, when she was curled around him in bed, stroking his hair, he nuzzled into her chest. “You really got that mad over her?” He murmured, soft and amazed.

She hummed. “I don’t share.”

He chuckled, eyes heavy with sleep. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I never wanted anyone else to begin with.”

a/n: so, I've done my first exam and I'm very worried because the professor put things that weren't in the syllabus 🙃 lately I can't find the strength to do anything after studying but I really felt the need to write this. I think this is a little mediocre, so I apologize in advance. thank you for all your nice inboxes and comments, I swear I'll reply to them as soon as I can. hope you'll enjoy 🌸

Midnight creeps up without mercy.

The lights in your dorm room are dim, your laptop casting a pale glow across your face as you sit at your desk, slouching against the wooden surface as several papers are scattered all over the keyboard. A half-empty energy drink sits next to a cup of cold coffee that you have filled a dangerous number of times in the last two days, while the wrapper from the protein bar you had for dinner lays sadly on the floor. You only notice the time when your eyes slide, unfocused, to the bottom right corner of the desktop and the numbers blink at you almost mockingly. Your dorm room feels suddenly smaller, like the walls have edged in while you weren’t looking.

12:22 a.m.

You didn’t mean to spiral. One thing just turned into another: one more topic, one more hour… And without your boyfriend here to support you, it has been entirely too easy to slip.

You promised him. Midnight is the line you agreed on together, the one rule you said you could live with during these dreadful two weeks, because it wasn’t unreasonable. But you aren't done. Actually, you aren’t even close. The notes in front of you are a mess of colors and arrows and half-written sentences, your handwriting getting worse as the numbers on the clock change. The same topic stares back at you, smug and immovable, like it's proud of the scared look on your face.

Two days stuck on this. Forty-eight hours of rereading, rewriting, convincing yourself you understood it, only to realize you didn’t the moment you tried to explain it out loud.

If you can’t get this, you’ll fail. If you fail, everything you’ve done so far is pointless. If it’s pointless, why did you even try– 

You shake your head sharply. Another sip of coffee. Your stomach protests, hollow and sour, but caffeine feels like the only thing preventing you from collapsing to the ground and sleeping for three days straight. You can’t even remember how many cups you had today. Four? Five? You’d stopped counting after the third, the number that echoes in your head with Bucky’s voice attached to it.

“Maximum of three, princess. Then water.”

You press your lips together, guilty tears prickling behind your eyes. 

You asked him not to intervene this time. You needed the space, or at least you thought you did. Two weeks without seeing nor hearing him because you knew too well that if you let yourself lean into him, you wouldn’t be able to pull away again. He makes it too easy to rest. Too easy to stop hurting.

You still text, of course. Short messages, check-ins. Him reminding you to drink water, you sending pictures of your notes as proof you are ‘doing fine’. Him replying with a heart and a Proud of you, princess that makes your eyes burn with shame.

“My goal here isn’t to hold you back, or control you. But I’m not just trying to be your boyfriend. I want to be your safe place. I want you to know you can hand yourself over to me completely— mind, body, everything— and trust that I’ll be there, ready to take care of you.”

In these past six months, you built something with structure, a relationship based on care and mutual trust. You never had that before, always being the one holding everything together– first with your family, and now with yourself, with your friends. Always fixing things and anticipating needs. You have always had the tendency to run yourself into the ground for everyone else, without anyone actually noticing how much that cost you. Control has been in your hands for as long as you can remember, and since your first ever relationship, nobody else has tried to earn your trust enough for you to give it up.

With Bucky, you bloomed so easily under his care. You started small: bedtime at midnight; sleep for at least seven hours; no skipping meals; no more than three cups of coffees a day, and only until four in the afternoon– to ensure your sleep quality wouldn't be ruined. And six cups a day of water minimum.

You liked those rules. You wanted them. He helps you to stop before you burn out like you did in the past. The rules are there because you lose track and push yourself too hard, and Bucky won’t allow that if you give him permission to intervene. He promised he would take care of you, no matter if you believe it's inconvenient or uncomfortable for him. Even when you fuck up– especially then– there’s never threat in his tone, nor disappointment. He is patient, very patient, and calm. His hands are steady and his blue eyes full of the promise that you’re always safe with him.  

His urge to care for you extends far beyond the rules the two of you agreed upon. The structure matters, yes, but it was never the point. The point is the way he shows up in the quiet, ordinary moments, the ones you didn’t think counted until he made them feel sacred.

Bucky opens doors for you without thinking about it, always a step ahead, always aware of where you are in relation to him. When you walk inside somewhere together, his hand settles at your lower back, not pushing, just there– warm, grounding, a steady reminder that you’re not alone in navigating the world. He guides you like that through crowded rooms and narrow hallways, murmuring soft directions only you can hear.

“Watch the step, sweetheart.”

“Careful– chair’s closer than you think.”

He orders food for you when your mind is too cluttered to decide, and does so remembering your preferences better than you do. He goes shopping with you— not for efficiency, but because he likes seeing your eyes light up over small, pretty trinkets. A sweater softer than the others, a notebook with a cover that makes you smile, a bear keychain that you insist resembles him. He never comments on the practicality of it, his credit card is already in the cashier's hand to buy it for you. That’s also why he calls you princess. He repeats that in the quietest hours, words slow and low in your ear. You deserve to have your needs put first. You deserve to be spoiled, tended and cared for. And he would gladly do that because you’re so precious to him. 

His Princess.

He gives you his dog tags one quiet evening, draping them around your neck with reverence. Tells you you’ll keep them safe for him, but the way his thumb lingers against your collarbone, and his eyes darken whenever your top is off says more than his words ever could. You wear them under your clothes, close to your skin, and some days that’s enough to steady you all on its own.

In the mornings, when you’re half-asleep and clumsy with fatigue, he crouches down without a word and helps you put on your shoes. His fingers are careful, methodical, like he’s handling something fragile. Before standing back up, he always presses a brief, absentminded kiss to your thigh.

When you walk together down a busy sidewalk, he always shifts so he’s on the side closer to the road. You don’t even notice when it happens anymore; it’s instinct now. If someone brushes too close, his hand tightens around yours for just a second, reassuring.

He always needs to touch you, in small, grounding ways. A hand on your thigh when you’re sitting side by side, fingers brushing your wrist when he passes behind you. And at night, as soon as the world finally falls asleep, you yearn for the moment he spoons you on the couch: his back against the cushions, you tucked into him, and his arm draped over your front. His fingers trace slow, repetitive paths along your ribs to your hip through your pajamas, never wandering, never demanding. Just steady and patient.

It lulls your thoughts into something manageable.

Bucky cooks for you, too. He pulls you from your chair when it’s time to eat, settling you into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes he feeds you, one bite at a time, especially when your hands feel useless or when he needs the reassurance of feeling them rest against his arms, his chest. He doesn’t rush you. He observes your face, and waits for you to nod before the next bite, murmuring praises meant only for you.

“There you go, baby. Tastes good?” He coos, stroking his hand down your back softly. 

You nod. 

“Good.” He presses a kiss on your neck, smirking as you shiver.

And it’s in those quiet moments that you are reminded that his care is never about control.

Consequences were established not because he wants to punish you, or because you’re bad. But because you need more support than just reminders and soft nudges. The structure is already there and you want it, because you feel better with it. But the idea of actual discipline and being corrected… It made something flutter in your belly when you discussed it for the first time.

Bucky promised to always talk about it together before. No surprises or anger, just guidance to enforce structure. They aren’t about hurting you, nor embarrass you. He wants to protect you. If he’s not calm, it doesn’t happen. If you don’t agree, it doesn’t happen. If you are unsure, it stops: you use the traffic lights system and you have a safeword.

You both agreed on a sort of time out: ten minutes without any external stimuli, just you sitting on his lap in silence to allow your body and mind to unwind in his comforting presence. 

No shouting, no pain, no shame.

The knock comes out of nowhere.

You flinch, noticing that you were five seconds away to fall asleep and possibly smack your face against the hard surface of your desk. A nosebleed is the last thing you need now.

Your heart slams hard enough that you feel it in your throat at the sudden noise. Your body freezes, ears perking up to catch any suspicious sound outside of your door. 

It has to be your brain playing tricks on you, it’s not the first time you wake up imagining noises, or hallucinating them from lack of sleep. Maybe it was someone knocking on one of the neighboring doors. It’s past midnight, why would anyone look for you? Your friends always send a text before coming by but– oh, your phone has been sitting on silent, facing down your bed for the past six hours. 

Just when you opt to stand up to check for any alarming text, there is another knock. Slower. Firmer.

Your breath hitches.

On unsteady legs, you are suddenly aware of how wrecked you feel— your limbs are heavy, your temples pulse, and your eyes feel so damp and swollen, as if someone tried to punch them. The room tilts just slightly when you take the first step forward, so you keep a hand on the wall just in case as you cross the space toward the door.

“Who is it?” You ask, mindful of your voice at this hour.

Silence stretches, and then…

“It’s me, princess.”

Three words familiar enough to make your stomach drop.

“No.” You sigh, even as your hand closes around the handle.

Bucky stands there in the hallway, and for a moment, you just stare at him, brain failing to catch up with reality. He looks the same as always: solid, warm, impossibly handsome, but there is something softer in his expression, something careful. 

His eyes flicker over your face, your posture, the dim room behind you. He doesn’t comment, nor ask questions, but the small, gentle smile– like he doesn’t want to scare you off– is enough for you.

“Hi sweet girl.” He says quietly.

Your throat closes at once. You can see how obvious it is that you are barely holding yourself together, tired and unhinged with your routine completely messed up. The realization hits you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet as you can’t keep it in anymore.

“I—” Your voice breaks.

The tears come fast, overwhelming as you shake, hands curling into fists and arms wrapping around your waist as if to keep your body from crumbling. The first sob rips out of your chest before you can swallow it back.

Bucky promptly steps closer, still giving you time to pull away if you want to. When he opens his arms for you to step in, you press into his hold without thinking.

The moment his scent reaches your nostrils and the firmness of his broad chest rests against your cheek, something inside your chest gives out completely. You sob, face buried into him, fingers clutching at his shirt like you are afraid he might let go. Bucky only wraps himself tighter around you, one hand warm at the back of your head and the other resting on your waist.

He doesn’t say anything at first, breathing evenly, deeply, trying to lend you his calm. When you sniffle, he adjusts slightly, grounding you, his thumb moving in slow, repetitive strokes as if to say ‘I’m here now. I’m not letting go’.

“Jamie.” You whimper eventually, the name slipping out so painfully.

He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath for a long time. His thumb traces your jaw, then tips your face up gently so he can kiss you, soft and reverent, his mouth lingering over yours enough to make you gasp.

“There’s my girl.” He whispers against your lips, tucking you back against his chest. “I’ve got you.”

You stay like that until your sobs weaken, until the sharp edge of your panic dulls into something achey and exhausted. Only then does he speak again, barely above a whisper.

“I need you to breathe for me, princess.” He whispers in your ear. “C’mon, follow my lead.”

You nod eagerly, your fingers tightening their grip on his shirt. You exhale a little too quickly.

“Slower.” Bucky instructs, his voice a steady anchor as his hand takes yours, flattening your palm against his pec. “Try again.”

This time you draw the breath deeper and fuller, just like he does, hold it and then let it out gradually. His hand doesn’t leave yours, rising and lowering in time with his chest, a way to support you with the rhythm he sets.

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, feeling you shiver under his palms.

When you finally pull back, furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, he doesn't mention yours finals or the rules or the broken promises. He just looks at you with pure love.

“What color are you, princess?” He asks gently.

You swallow. “Green.”

“Okay,” He nods. “Thank you for telling me.”

He reaches down, lifting the takeout bag you didn't even notice he brought with you and left on the floor to comfort you. “I brought food. Your favorite.”

You want to wail again.

“… I didn’t eat dinner.” Your eyes lower, ashamed.

“I figured.” The corners of his mouth lift sadly, no judgment in his voice. Bucky pauses, watching you carefully. “Let's get some food in your stomach, sweetheart.”

You nod quickly, following his lead as he guides you inside, one slow step at a time, like he has all the time in the world.

And for the first time in days, you feel like maybe you do too.

Dinner is a quiet affair that sees you on Bucky’s lap at your table. He reaches for the utensils, cutting the food only to hold it against your lips. “Open up, sweetheart.”

He feeds you small bites and makes sure you have small sips of water while he talks about his day at work. His voice is soothing, and even if you don’t understand half of the things he mentions, you catch some familiar names and the successful approval of his proposal.

“C’mon, princess. Up we go.” You blink disoriented, appalled that you were on the brink of falling asleep in mere minutes. Bucky brings you on your bed, before quickly cleaning the table up. 

“How are you feeling now?”

You’re tangled together on the bed, legs hooked, your head tucked beneath his chin. His hand rests at your side, warm and steady, not moving unless you do.

“Better.” You swallow.

Bucky exhales, slow and controlled, like that word matters more than anything else you could’ve given him. His thumb presses once, gently, into your hip. “I’m glad.”

There’s a pause that he doesn’t fill right away. He waits, letting the silence stretch until it feels safe instead of heavy.

“I was scared,” he admits at last with a low voice, almost tentative. “You looked… So exhausted. And I could feel it even through your texts.” His jaw tightens just slightly. “Knowing you were hurting and I couldn’t help… It destroyed me.”

You swallow, not sure what to say as fresh tears sting the corners of your eyes. 

“And I’ve never seen you cry like that,” he adds, softer. “Not like you did tonight.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt without thinking.

You nod, but the motion feels too small, too insufficient. He shifts just enough to catch your eye, his gaze not demanding but expectant. The look that always tells you he wants you present. Honest.

Use your words.

You hesitate. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” He murmurs, fingers delicately dancing on your cheek. “I just want you to know that I’m here, and you’re allowed to ask for help when you are carrying too much, okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him. “Words, sweet girl.”

“Okay.” You choke on it.

“Good girl.”

The praise lands deep. You close your eyes, shame prickling hot under your skin even as comfort wraps around you. You hate that you let him see you like this, that you let it get so bad. And yet— you can't help but feel utterly safe now that he is here.

The unraveling starts gradually.

Your shoulders lower first, the tension finally loosening its grip. Then you curl inward, folding into him like gravity has shifted. Your forehead insistently presses into his chest, your hands clinging onto his shirt. 

His arms tighten around you immediately, solid. Your rock.

“I didn’t realize it was happening,” You whisper the confession. “I thought I still had control.”

“I know.” He hums understanding. “You are so good at following the rules, baby.”

“I didn’t want to ignore you.” You add, breath shaking. “I just– I don’t want to lose time.” His fingers gently lift your chin so he can press a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“It’s not losing time if you’re taking care of yourself.” He mumbles, his other hand stroking along your back. The motion is deliberate, unhurried, like he’s reminding your body that there’s nowhere else you need to be.

“I feel so embarrassed.” You suddenly admit, ears heating up under his intense yet tender gaze.  

“Feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean you failed,” he explains. “It means you reached your limit.”

“But I did. I did fail.” You sniffle, hot liquid sliding down your cheeks again. “I messed up.”

“Hey, hey.” His hands cradle your jaw so you don’t hide again, keeping you close to his face. “You struggled, you needed help.” he corrects gently. “There’s a difference. And it certainly doesn't make you weak.”

You go quiet at that, chin wobbling as your teeth bite your bottom lip harshly enough to hurt. Anything to not sob again like a child.

“I’m proud of you. So, so proud.” Bucky continues, resting his forehead against yours. “Because you let me see you. Because you didn’t shut down completely. That takes more strength than pretending you’re fine.”

“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle things.”

He stills, just for a moment, before his thumbs start a caressing motion on your skin. “I don’t need you to handle everything alone. I need you to let me stand with you when it gets heavy.”

You nod, swallowing around the knot in your throat.

He presses a kiss on your forehead, lingering. “Now let’s unwind, alright?”

You exhale shakily, letting your weight sink fully into him, and he waits, patient as ever.

After a while, he murmurs. “Let’s take a few quiet minutes. No thinking, no talking. Just rest.”

You don’t argue, nor apologize again. You just nod and let him adjust you, pulling you closer until your breathing naturally syncs with his.

Wrapped in him, shame softens into something survivable. And when his thumb traces a slow, reassuring path against your side, the buzzing in your head fades, guilt loosening its grip on your heart until it’s no longer crushing.

“There you go,” Bucky whispers, his own shoulders relaxing as he feels your body slowly melt against his. “That’s good, my love. It’s okay. You’ve got time. You can do it.” You whimper quietly at that, just realizing how much you needed to hear those words.

“You’re safe with me. I love you so much, princess.”

“Love you too, Jamie.”

At some point, when your head doesn’t feel as heavy as before and your eyes are completely dry, you wiggle in his arms, accidentally letting your core brush against his hard thigh. Bucky is still pressing soft kisses along the line of your forehead, noticing you shiver but not thinking too much about it– he knows you must be so sleepy now. Yet he couldn’t be far from the truth. Your body is craving a certain kind of pleasure and relief that you denied both yourself and your boyfriend for almost two weeks, so you wiggle again against his thigh, squeaking under your breath when it finally brushes your clit. Bucky’s body goes rigid for a heartbeat, suddenly catching on what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. You keep moving your hips forward, now thoroughly and shamelessly humping his thigh, him letting you and even adjusting his leg so it slots in perfectly between yours. His arms squeeze your waist, eliciting a surprised gasp out of you.

“What are you doing, doll?” He whispers, voice already heavy with lust. He might be a super soldier with a hundred and more years behind him, but how can he keep his composure with such a beautiful, sweet woman in his arms, so desperate for his touch?

“Need you.” You gasp. “I know ‘m tired, but I need you so bad Jamie, please.”

His breath tickles your nose as he exhales deeply, not annoyed, but more as if he is trying so hard to behave. “Color?”

“Green. So, so green.”

“You need help, baby?” Bucky reiterates, enjoying the sight of you basically straddling him now. You nod dumbly, still desperately trying to chase your high by rocking your hips.

Bucky takes his time, the way he always does when you’re unguarded and too tender, when what you need is to be cared for without being asked to give anything back.

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then lower. Down your neck, your collarbone, the soft skin just beneath. Each kiss is intentional, worshipping.

Once your sweats and hoodie are off and you are lying open and wet on your back for him, his hands roam your body with reverence, palms mapping the curve of your hips, then the dip of your waist. The way he touches you makes you feel treasured, not just wanted. His metal hand stays at your side, a cool anchor while his other hand explores, stroking along your ribs, your belly, your thighs.

“You can let go, princess.” He murmurs against the flesh of your breasts. “I got you. I always got you.”

You believe him with every breath that shakes its way out of you.

Even though both of you are burning with the pleasure that you so badly want to let consume you, he takes his time, tender and loving. You feel like light as cotton candy in his arms, sighing at his every touch.

Bucky lets out a soft pant when one of his large hands grasps your jaw, pulling you into a filthy kiss. You moan into it, the heat and wetness between your legs so hard to ignore now. 

Once his cock is nestled deep inside of you, the ache becomes unbearable.

“Jamie, please.” You whimper, eyes squeezed shut and thighs tensing. Your eyes are half-lidded, dazed, nearly as wet as your lips that you keep biting so you won’t wake the whole dorm up with your wanton noises.

“I know, I know, baby girl. It’s big, hm?” He coos back, chest heaving and sweat pooling on his collar bones every time you clench around him. His calloused fingers dig into the plush of your ass every now and then, keeping you anchored to him just to see your eyes roll back at the delicious friction between your clit and his pubic hair. 

“So big... Move, please?” You toss your head back once he gives a quick thrust, but Bucky is quick to grasp your jaw, tilting it back until the tips of your noses brush against each other.

“Eyes on me, princess… There you go, that’s a good little girl. Keep them on me so I can see them when you come, okay?” He asks you, arching a stern brow. You nod again, a bit more eager, moaning a high-pitched promise as his hips thrust forward leisurely.

Bucky would be lying if he said he isn’t getting impatient himself. He usually likes to take his time with you– break you down bit by bit until you’re crying, until you’re begging for him to let you come. But today is different and he can’t ignore the fierce urge to see you unravel on his cock.

“Hold on to me.” 

You obey, wrapping your arms eagerly around his neck, breasts pushed up for him to nuzzle into. 

Once his cock slams right back into you, you gasp, nails digging into his back, and he sets a brutal pace. Flesh slaps against flesh when his hips begin to piston forward, meeting your bouncing body as you shake like a leaf.

Your mouth falls open into a perfect round shape, and Bucky takes in the sight with pride burning hot in his chest. 

“That good, huh?” He smirks, leaning forward to capture one of your tits, wrapping around a turgid nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “You feel perfect.” He grunts, voice rough with restraint. "Like you were made for me."

Your legs squeeze around his waist, drawing him impossibly deeper. “Think I am.”

You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but he takes note of the way they begin to roll as your pussy flutters more often. You feel so dizzy from his length pushing into you that you are certain you're going to faint.

“Jamie!” You whine, body squirming as if the pleasure is too much for your body to contain. “'M close.”

“I know, princess.” He murmurs, never breaking his rhythm. “Can feel it. So tight around me. So good.”

Your toes curl against his thighs, your breath hitching in your throat like there’s not enough air. Bucky is right there with you, brows pulled in concentration when he feels the familiar clench of his lower abdomen. His thrusts grow deeper, more purposeful, and you can tell by the tension in his jaw and the slight tremor in his arms, that he's fighting for control. Even lost in pleasure, he’s putting you first.

“Tell me when you’re coming.” He grits out, leaning down to steal your lips in a wet kiss. “Tell him so I know when to fill my pussy up. That’s what you want, right princess? Want Jamie to fill you up so you can feel it drip out of you while you sit all cute and primly at your desk?” 

You try to tell him yes, but everything that comes out is a warped, high-pitched moan. It’s not even seconds later that you tell him you’re coming, deliriously repeating it over and over and over again until he can feel it happening. 

“That's it.” He growls, his rhythm clumsily faltering as he feels you clench around him. “Let go for me. Just like that, beautiful.”

Your vision blurs at the edges as pleasure consumes every single crevice of your body until your brain only knows how to scream your boyfriend’s name, until there’s nothing but the delicious stretch of his big cock.

You squeeze him so tight his hips can barely move, pulsing and milking him. You keep your eyes on him, like the good girl you are, though your lashes flutter with the rest of your body that squirms in his firm hold. 

Bucky follows you moments later, pressing deep as he shudders above you with his face buried in your neck, trying to muffle the roaring groan that rumbles through his chest. The contact grounds him as his cock begins to twitch and swell inside of you, borderline animalistic in the way his fingers bruise your hips as he finally finds the yearned release after these rough two weeks.

“Oh, my pretty princess.” His warm breath tickles your collarbones, hips still thrusting carelessly and body trembling slightly with the force of his orgasm. Bucky tightens his arms around you like he never wants to let go, both of your hearts pounding in sync as the aftershocks ripple through your bodies. 

Eventually, the world stills. His breath slows, his senses clear, but when he tries to move, your limbs trap him there. 

“Color?”

“Green.” Your quick breathing fades into a shaky and deep thing. Bucky kisses your temple, soothing his hands up and down the length of your spine as he gently moves you so you’re lying on top of him. You slump against him, nuzzling into his chest, limp and satisfied. 

Bucky reads your body like his favorite book, knowing very well when it asks for this– sitting full of him. He’ll allow it only for a few more minutes; your body has been under so much stress lately and he doesn’t want to be the reason you'll wake up sore tomorrow morning. Not that it'll change something after the good fuck he gave you.

Maybe he'll wait until you fall asleep, just enough for every last drop of his seed to have the chance to settle inside you.

How could he destroy and rebuild everything so beautifully?

He turned your head back toward him when you glanced over your shoulder. “The partition is up,” he reminded you. “No one is going to see you except for me.”

You were glad for that since you didn’t need Ray or Curtis seeing you in a vulnerable state like this.

“I’m going to trust you again,” you whispered, taking a breath to allow the tension in your body to ease. 

It was all you could do. 

A slow smile spread across Bucky’s face before he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. He deepened it quickly, the outside world fading away. It felt like a promise that everything would be alright, even if just for now. 

Your breath hitched as his hand slipped past the waistband of your pants, his fingers tracing your skin with urgency and deliberate care. His tongue exploded your mouth with such hunger that you thought it would swallow you whole. Every kiss threw more fuel on the flames. His craving for you would never stop.

Neither would his love. 

“Thank you,” he whispered against your lips in a low, soothing rumble. The other hand on your hip squeezed gently, willing you to melt into his touch. “It’s just us here. You don’t need to think about anything or anyone else.”

“I’m trying not to think,” you told him, grasping his shoulders. 

You weren’t lying when you told him you were tired, and overthinking would only serve to exhaust you more. You could let yourself feel for a short time. Feel now, think later. 

That was all you were doing though, weren’t you? It was your way of coping with everything that happened. It was a vicious cycle. 

“I know, and I’ll take care of you,” he promised, leaning his head back to watch your face. His stormy eyes drifted over you like a sinner turning to prayer. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

His fingers found you slick and warm, your moan escaping and filling the space. His eyes darkened as he explored you like he was trying to memorize the feel of you around him. His thumb brushed your clit in a slow, maddening circle, wetness coating his digits. Each movement was calculated to draw a reaction from you. 

“Love how wet you get for me,” he growled, two fingers breaching you and making you tighten around him. “Love that you’re mine.”

His girl. He made sure you’d be his. And so did you, didn’t you?

Your heart rate skyrocketed. The car felt too hot. The space was too small. You needed to breathe. Just breathe.

Was it right to give yourself over again?

Was it wrong to want to forget everything for a short time? 

“Stop thinking, Kotyonok. Stop carrying everything. Let me help. Let me make you feel good,” he urged, his fingers moving insistently. “Just be here with me.”

Where else would you be? Your mind wouldn’t go anywhere else. Your path was a circle that always led back to him, just like he wanted. Just like he dictated. 

“You take my fingers so well,” he said, leaning up to brush his lips against your ear. “As much as I want you, I won’t fuck you here today. As soon as we get home, I’ll take you to bed and give you my cock. But I need you to come for me right here and now.”

Heat built inside you, your body responding to his touch with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. There was a challenge in his voice, daring you to let go of the very little control you were desperately clinging to. You were going to shatter, and he’d pick up all the pieces. 

His breathing was almost as heavy as yours, your growing ecstasy fueling his need. “Come,” he rasped. 

Your body tensed as you teetered on the edge and one deep thrust of his fingers pushed you over. You surrendered to the sensations coursing through your veins with a cry. Pleasure washed over you and he held you through it, helping you ride out every wave of your orgasm. It felt good. 

It felt like everything was okay.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered in a soothing voice, kissing your forehead. 

You collapsed against him by the end of it, your heart pounding in your ears. The high faded and you trembled from the aftershocks. 

You expected him to remove his fingers, but they stayed buried deep. The wicked grin on his face sent a chill down your spine. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, his thumb finding your sensitive clit again. You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily. “We’re just getting started.”

He began to pump his fingers again slowly, making you feel every curve. The circles on your clit were almost lazy, building your need back up and drawing out your pleasure. You could feel your body responding again, even though it seemed too soon. 

“Bucky.” Your voice was barely audible, your eyes wide. “I can’t.”

“Shh,” he soothed, his free hand cupping your warm cheek. “You can, and you will. You’re mine, remember? And I want to watch you come apart again.”

He sounded wrecked and you could feel that he was still hard when he shifted you in his lap. You were somewhat shocked he hadn’t grabbed a condom to take you right there. But he was concentrating on your pleasure. 

“And if I say stop?” you asked. 

His movements stopped immediately, making you whimper. “I’d never hurt or force you,” he assured you, like the very idea of it would hurt him.

You pulsed around him. He promised he never would. Trust. You had to trust him. 

“Okay,” you breathed, your back arching when he began to move again. “It just… feels like so much.”

“I know, but I’ve got you.”

Your body betrayed your mind thinking it was too soon for another, your hips moving with his fingers, your breaths coming in short gasps. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss and your hand found its way into his hair. He was determined to keep you teetered to the present. 

He broke the kiss, his teeth nipping at your skin again as they trailed down your neck. “Come for me, Kotyonok,” he growled, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder on your clit. “I want you to make a mess all over me.”

Your lips parted, your chest rose, and you were close to breaking. The storm raged inside you and ecstasy threatened to consume you. He pulled back, looking at you like you were a siren ready leading him to his impending doom with a smile. But you weren’t the one who would drown him. 

He’d pull you down into the depths with him. 

“Just let go,” he commanded gently.

And you did. Your body convulsed as your second orgasm crashed over you, head spinning and your moans soft. He licked his lips as he watched, his fingers slowing to draw it out as long as he could. You were boneless as you came down, a light sheen covering you. 

Would your heart ever stop pounding?

Bucky withdrew his soaked fingers and brought them to his mouth a groan, licking them and savoring your taste. “Delicious,” he whispered, kissing you so you could taste yourself. His eyes softened when he pulled back. “You’re so beautiful when you come undone. I could watch you like this forever.”

Your body continued to hum as he rubbed your back, a comfortable silence settling between you as he pressed kisses along your face. The world outside the car ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, your breathing steadying and tears threatening to sting your eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, helping you settle back into your seat. 

You hummed a little. “That was intense,” you whispered, your head finding his shoulder.

Back-to-back orgasms would’ve been intense by itself, but past boyfriends weren’t like Bucky. Making you feel good was an afterthought instead of second nature. You weren’t the center of their universe. The very presence of you didn’t make them feel alive.

You went from settling for what you didn’t deserve to somewhat accepting that your love had chains. 

“That’s just the beginning,” he whispered back.

You didn’t know when the car started moving, but Bucky kept his hands on you throughout the entire drive. They brushed over your breasts, your nipples hard against your bra. You whimpered whenever he touched you between your legs, the fabric ruined from your two orgasms. Whenever reality began to seep back in, whether it was thoughts of Natasha or Addison or anything else, he brought you right back to him.

“I need this just as much as you do,” he said, his voice lulling you in. “We need each other.”

Need. Like it was essential for his existence to have you. Resisting him only made him want you more. Giving in did the same. He needed you in every possible way.

Bucky didn’t release you even as the car came to a stop. Your legs felt like rubber as he helped you out, grabbed everything, and guided you to the elevator. You shivered, not quite sure if it was from the cool air or the continuous aftershocks. And his eyes never left you, the burning intensity growing to a fever pitch. 

“Where’s my phone?” you asked when he set the bag down inside.

And where were Ray and Curtis? You barely saw them today. God, was Bucky keeping them away from you and out of sight to give you two some alone time? 

And to think just days ago you couldn’t stand the idea of any of his men being your shadow. 

“You don’t need it right now,” he answered, his fingertips dancing along your side. “Don’t need anyone interrupting us.”

That answered your unspoken question about his men.

Your palm itched to take your phone back, to check who the missed call was from. Maybe Addison had talked to Brady. Bucky smirked like he sensed it. Of course, he did.

“Still trying to take care of everyone else and not putting yourself first,” he said, leading you toward the bedroom. “And as much as I love and admire your giving heart, you’re going to collapse.”

You did keep pushing your limits for that sense of normalcy and control. When were you going to stop? When would you allow yourself to rest? 

“And you’ll what? Catch me when that happens?”

“Of course, I’ll catch you,” he replied. “I’d never let you hit the ground.”

He stepped into the bedroom and looked back, patiently waiting for you to follow. The door clicked shut behind you once you entered, sealing you off from everything else. The air thickened around you when he touched your cheek, the scent of your still arousal on his fingers. He brushed a thumb under your eye like he was wiping away an invisible tear. 

“Don’t think about anything beyond these walls. Nothing else exists,” he said in a gentle command. “It’s just us. That’s the way it should be.”

His hands went to the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. His eyes took in every inch of you, and you made no move to hide yourself. It felt more intimate than before and you couldn’t place why. 

“You’ll always want me?” you asked above a whisper.

He made a wounded sound. “How can you even ask that?” he asked, his hand splaying across your lower back. “Have I not shown you that I’ll always want you?”

He leaned down to capture one of your nipples, his tongue flicking the hardened peak. You gasped, gripping his hair when he switched to the other. He gave it the same amount of attention as his hands roamed along your body possessively, over your back. They traced every curve, and your legs shook before he moved you to the bed.

“We’re going to grow old together. We’re always going to be together,” he said, like speaking the words into existence would make them true. “I’ll always love and want you.”

He laid you down gently and got on his knees, carefully removing each shoe. He pressed a kiss to both ankles before he reached up to pull your pants down with your panties. You were naked and exposed, your body on fire strong enough to burn. The flames licked along your skin and left unseen scars in its path. 

You were a goner. 

You covered your mouth and choked on a sob as he kissed up your legs, your chest barely keeping your heart from bursting through. He stopped before he reached his prize. You lifted your head and gasped when you met his gaze, the desire in his orbs nearly drowning you. The raw need almost made him appear vulnerable. 

Almost.

“Am I scaring you again?” he asked, revealing his chiseled and scarred frame when he took off his own shirt. He was a symphony of power and control that some could only ever dream of. “I really need to stop doing that, don’t I?”

“I’m not scared,” you said as he stood up, his knuckles brushing against the hardness in his pants before he unzipped them. “And maybe not being scared should scare me.”

The thought should’ve devastated you.

He stepped out of his shoes and remaining clothing, unashamed. His body was a testament to his need for you. His cock stood proudly and he fisted it, his eyes never leaving yours as he stroked himself. The sight made you shiver.

“We’ve come a long way in such a short time,” he murmured, going to retrieve a condom as wetness surged between your legs. “Lots of bumps in the road thanks to me.”

“All the bumps thanks to you, Bucky,” you muttered, smiling to yourself when he chuckled. 

“I fucking love you,” he said reverently, rolling the condom on. “And I can’t wait to fuck you bare.”

He climbed over you, his movements predatory. Your heart pounded faster when he pushed your thighs apart and settled between them. You felt the heat of him, the thick head of his cock as he pushed at your entrance. But he didn’t slip inside. Not fully.

He claimed your lips instantly, coaxing your mouth open. He groaned when you arched into him, but he still didn’t thrust. You didn’t know what he was waiting for. 

“Tell me you need me,” he begged, keeping your hips still when you writhed beneath him. “I won’t make you say you love me tonight, even though we both know you do, but just… give me that. Please.”

A shuddering breath escaped. You wondered how much longer he’d wait for you to say you loved him. “Please, Bucky,” you whispered, your cheeks hot from having to beg. “I need you.”

You held your breath when he sighed and slowly entered you. You tensed a little as you adjusted his size. As thick as his fingers were, his cock was still thicker, every inch filling you. He kissed you until your body relaxed, but his body felt tense, too, showing that his control was hanging on by a thread. 

“Breathe, Kotyonok,” he whispered, his hips starting to move in a steady rhythm. “We have all the time in the world.”

Electricity cracked as he spread your legs wider and moved deep. You lost yourself with every thrust and allowed him to smother the doubt. The smell of sex and the sound of your bodies coming together flooded your senses like a drug. 

“Bucky,” you gasped as he kept burying himself to the hilt. 

“Mine,” he growled, rutting into you with almost punishing strokes. Each one pulled a strangled moan from your throat. “Mine, Kotyonok. You’re fucking mine.”

Your body went pliant, your walls clenching around him. You didn’t say with your mouth that you were his, but your body had no issues confirming it. The tight coil in your core snapped without him having to tell you, your pussy spasming and fluttering as your release gushed around him.

Bucky let out an obscene moan at the sight and feel of your orgasm. “Good girl. That’s so fucking beautiful,” he grunted. 

You nearly sobbed when he suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, your walls still clenching and unclenching. You fisted the sheets when he put you on your knees and drove into you hard enough to make you cry out, your back bowing. The only thing you could do was take him. 

“Can’t wait until I can really fill you up,” he grunted, settling over your back, his hips snapping as you whimpered. “I’ll spread your legs while I drip out of you, and I’ll fill you up all over again.”

Your cries bounced off the walls, your cheek flat against the mattress as he pounded into you. Your body jerked when he snaked a hand beneath you and strummed your clit with expert precision. Like his thrusts, all you could do was take it. 

“I… I can’t,” you whined as he built you up again, his hand covering yours as he buried his face in your neck. 

“Remember what I said earlier? You’re mine. Made for me,” he reminded you in a growl. “Now come for me.”

The broken moan you let out seemed fitting as you fell apart. Orgasm number four seemed stronger than the previous three somehow. You felt him hum against your skin and a few tears may have fallen from your eyes. And he just kept thrusting.

“Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. Prettiest, wettest pussy, and it’s all mine,” he promised you, dragging his teeth along your shoulder. “Fuck, I love you. I love you so… fucking… much.”

You barely registered him lifting your head and turning it enough to meet his heated gaze, his hair a mess and his cheeks warm. His mouth fell open before he shuddered, finding his release with a deep moan. You both panted hard, his heart beating frantically against your back. 

“You’ll tell me you love me soon,” he panted, brushing his lips against ours. “I know you will.”

You let his words sink in. His love, his possession. It etched itself in your skin like a tattoo. 

Like a vow. 

He rolled you back over once he pulled out of you, giving you a minute to recover as he threw the condom away. As if a minute would be long enough. As if that would sate his desire.

“Four orgasms,” you mumbled as he traced patterns along your back.

“Oh, you’ll have more than that soon,” he promised, smiling like a cat who got the cream. “Because we aren’t leaving this bed, except for a bath later.”

You were quiet for a moment. “Do you think everything can be solved with sex?” you asked, surprised that you pulled yourself from the haze long enough to formulate a full question.

He looked at you, a smile tugging at hip lips. “No, but I think you’ve done enough thinking for a lifetime, and you deserve to feel good,” he answered, wiping your cheeks. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

You closed your eyes, letting him wrap a leg around you. “Thanks,” you whispered. 

His mouth touched your ear. “Natasha is looking into the fire.”

Your eyes flew open, but you avoided his gaze. He didn’t force you to look at him, but your stomach dropped as he kept rubbing your back, his fingers digging in a little more. He fucked you within an inch of your life, and he decided to bring up something you questioned. Why would he say that? Why now?

Was he testing you?

“I’m glad she’s looking out for you. Really,” he said in an even tone when you stayed silent, reaching for another condom. “But you’re not her responsibility at the end of the day, and you're not Bruce Wayne’s. Curtis and Ray are only responsible to an extent. And you don’t need any of them when you have me.”

He settled between your legs again, and your trembling hands moved to his chest. “It isn’t a competition,” you said softly. 

But maybe it always would be to him. He pushed your parents out. He took Bruce’s card away. Addison and Curtis brought out a jealous side. He had to be number one in your universe. 

“It isn’t. It really isn’t,” he agreed, moving your legs apart again with a tender smile. “But I still feel selfish some days.”

You swallowed hard. You still weren’t sure if he was playing a game with you or not. If he was, you couldn’t lose. Not tonight. 

“Bucky, you’re the one who said nothing existed outside the two of us,” you said, rolling your hips up. “So, let it be us.”

His smile widened. “That’s my girl,” he praised, kissing you like he owned you. You told him exactly what he wanted to hear, and it filled you with relief as you kissed him back. “Gonna fuck you again before we take a bath. And I want to remind you tonight and every night who loves you the most.”

“It’s you, Bucky,” you whispered. 

It would always be him. 

I did promise some heat, lovelies. What's Bucky's angle? And I hope you're ready for some emotions soon. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea if you join me here. Natasha might have some choice words if she caught us,” you teased, keeping your voice light. 

He scoffed. “She’d probably kick my ass, or at least she’d try.”  Bucky stepped forward and hooked a finger in the strap of your sports bra. “Doesn’t mean I can’t help you finish undressing,” he added in a husky whisper.

“I… I’m really sweaty and…” You trailed off when helped take it off, your nipples hardening thanks to the cool room air. 

You couldn’t lie to yourself. It was also his presence that made your body react the way it did. Your body was becoming more and more his. 

“You think sweat bothers me?” he asked, sinking down and slowly pulling your pants down with him.

Your breathing quickened when he tilted his head back and stared up at you. He didn’t even blink when he peeled your underwear off next, letting it pool at your feet with your pants. His hands slid up your warm legs, the contrast of his cool touch making you shiver.

“I want to make you sweat,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your mound and making you gasp. You braced a hand on his shoulder when he did it again, the feel of his lips possessive and gentle. “I want it all.”

You blinked in surprise when he stood up and took a deep breath. He ran both hands through his hair like he was trying to keep himself under control. But you could see the bulge in his pants and the lust in his eyes. 

“Go shower,” he urged, raking his eyes along your body even as he stepped back to distance himself.

You glanced down at yourself. Bucky being dressed and you naked was a reminder of the imbalance. But you liked to believe you weren’t fully helpless in this situation. Not anymore.

“I’ll be quick,” you promised, grabbing your towel and feeling his gaze on you as you went to one of the stalls.

You replayed Natasha’s conversation in your head as you showered. She was looking out for you in her own way and you appreciated it. But what would Bucky do if he knew? If you didn’t tell him what you heard, would it be keeping a secret from him or lying by omission? There had to be honesty in relationships, even ones like yours that weren’t at all normal.

You closed your eyes and prayed that he didn’t have anything to do with this. He did more than enough to keep you. That kind of sabotage felt a bit like overkill, especially for someone you considered a sister.

Bucky waited right outside for you when you finished, not allowing you to dry yourself off. “Do you know what I was thinking about while you showered?” he asked, making sure to get every drop of water off your skin. “Well, besides the obvious.”

You tried to smile when he winked. “What were you thinking about?”

“That every day is the best day of my life because I have you.”

“It is?”

He nodded. “I woke up today, thinking last night was a dream, but it wasn’t. I have you. And I’ll have you tomorrow. So, tomorrow will be the best day of my life when I wake up with you in my arms, and every single day after that.” He kissed your lips and sighed. “I get to live my life loving you, and that’s the best thing.”

“You really believe that,” you whispered, brushing a finger along his forehead.

Part of you wanted to understand the way his mind worked and how much it battled his heart, if the manipulations would ever stop. You wished his mom’s influence and loving heart outweighed the moving pieces of his world. But helping others through the foundation you’d set up would be a step in the right direction. 

“Of course, I do,” he said, not stopping you when you pulled away to get dressed. He leaned against the lockers and looked at you with a perceptive gaze, almost like he was looking through glass. “There’s something on your mind.”

You didn’t force a smile while you put your clothes on. “I’m a little tired,” you said, which wasn’t a lie. Natasha didn’t take it easy on you. 

“Tired,” he repeated, his eyes still soft somehow. “I believe you are, but that’s not what’s on your mind. Try again.”

Your throat tightened. He didn’t sound angry or disappointed. If anything there was worry, and that somehow made it worse. 

“If you did order that fire, you’d tell me… right?” you asked, praying you didn’t sound accusatory. 

You worried you’d choke on the sudden tension. Pain flickered in his expression. You wanted to take the question back, but it was out there and you had to ask. Even if the hurt on his face made it difficult. 

“You said this morning that it wasn’t me.” He was repeating your words back to you and the guilt spread like wildfire. “That even if I’m jealous of your bond with her, I wouldn’t do that.”

You hugged yourself and looked away. “I just-”

He stepped closer and gently took your chin between his fingers, guiding your gaze back to his. “I told you I’d never lie to you, and I haven’t.” “I know,” you whispered. 

His thumb brushed along your jaw. “But I understand why you asked since I’d benefit from it, so let’s talk about that.”

Your stomach dropped when he held up a finger. “What are you-”

“One. That venue? It wasn’t good enough. They deserved better, and I’m giving them something better.”

“Addison was happy with what she chose,” you argued. It was her dream place.

“It was a disaster waiting to happen. I’ll bet they had no idea about the numerous code violations that have been swept under the rug, or the debt that the owner is in. But Sam knew,” he said as your stomach dropped. You had almost forgotten he dealt in commercial real estate. “I’ll admit that I mentioned in passing that your friend deserved a better venue, and you know my men do their homework.”

You inhaled sharply. Why did he do that? “Did Sam-”

“I didn’t tell Sam to start a fire, and he wouldn’t have picked up a match even if I paid him,” he cut in gently. “Fires are loud and sloppy. They attract the wrong kind of attention. It isn’t our style.”

“That makes sense,” you agreed. There had already been enough of a mess with Zemo and Clark. You couldn’t imagine Bucky wanted more bad attention. 

“If I really wanted that venue gone, I would’ve bought it outright, made the owner sell it to someone else, or have Sam negotiate until they begged us to take it,” he explained, shrugging. “Again, the place was a disaster waiting to happen and not worth my time.”

You did believe that. When Bucky admitted his original plan of getting you out of your apartment it was because they would’ve bought the building. Nothing messy or dramatic. 

“Code violations and debt?” you asked quietly. It seemed like a bad coincidence

“People are really good at hiding just how ugly things are.”

You swallowed hard. It wasn’t just the venue. People in his world hid in plain sight and let the world see what they wanted them to. 

“But back to the list. Two.” He held up another finger. “Me stepping in and helping means you don’t have to watch your best friend panic for months or scramble for something unworthy. I get to help be a hero in her story and yours.”

Since Addison knew some of what happened to you and was your closest friend, she’d always be the hardest to fully win over. Bucky swooping in like a knight in shining armor would permanently put him on her good side. And you’d be forever thankful that her wedding could still go off without a hitch. 

“Three,” he continued. “The Red Room fully becomes part of your world, too, and not just mine.”

That was where his obsession continued to run deep. Every part of you had to be entwined with him. The very air you breathed had to be in his atmosphere. 

“Four. I won’t just be a hero to Addison and Brady, but everyone will see that I take care of the people you love.” His breath fanned along your lips. “And they’ll see me by your side and know that I’d never let you face anything alone.”

You swallowed again. Benefits weren’t all about money or influence, but power. Causing the fire would shift the power back in his favor because of all the reasons he listed. He’d be the hero, the puppet master, and he’d walk away unscathed. 

Maybe Bucky didn’t order Sam to cause a fire, but what if someone said something? What if they pressured the owner? There were still so many questions.

“Five. The most important thing. You’re happy and safe.”

Safe.

You’d be safe within the walls his world provided you, but you would be happy if it meant your loved ones were happy. 

“But that list means nothing because hurting them would hurt you, and I’d never hurt you, Kotyonok,” he said, his voice softening. “We’re finally close. You trusted me enough to let me in. Why would I risk breaking that trust by hurting you the very next day?”

You shut your eyes to hide the burn. He made a good point. As much as everything else would swing in his favor, it could do damage between the two of you. 

“I’m selfish, and I do terrible things. I know that,” he said, chuckling humorlessly. “But I wouldn’t sabotage the first real step you took toward me. I’d lose any footing we gained by doing that.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice cracking. “I just-”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, firmness mixed with his gentleness. “You’re allowed to question me and ask for the truth.”

You opened your eyes, still feeling overwhelmed. Was it wrong to feel guilty or suspect? If anyone else had questioned him, would he be this calm?

“I’ll do anything to protect you, and I won’t betray you after what we shared because I love you,” he murmured.

Your knees weakened and he held you closer. 

“So, let me be the man you trusted last night and not the man you’re afraid I might be.”

“You’re capable of many things,” you reminded him, yet you were starting to believe that he didn’t directly cause this. 

If Bucky was telling the truth, and the owner had issues with the venue, maybe it really was a coincidence. You had to believe that for now. It was all you could do. 

“I am,” he agreed unapologetically. 

“And thank you for being so calm during this talk.”

He looked amused. “Did you think I wouldn’t be calm?”

“Well, you did bend a fork when we went to that cafe together.”

“That fork had it coming,” he teased, tickling your side so you’d laugh. “Now let’s go see your friend.”

The air didn’t feel as thick as before as he carried your bag, his other arm slung around your waist. Curtis and Ray followed, and you spotted Natasha speaking with Antonia as you walked out. The redhead gave you a knowing look and a nod.

She knew you heard her phone call.

And you knew you’d hear from her very soon.

It was a quick drive to Addison’s place, and you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited for her to answer the door. You wondered if you should’ve had Bucky wait in the car. He had no reason to see her home.

“Nervous?” Bucky asked, rubbing your side.

“I just want her to like the Red Room,” you replied, the smell of vanilla hitting you once the door opened. 

“Hey!” Her smile was brighter than you expected when she pulled you in for a hug. “Come in, come in. I made tea.”

Bucky gave her a polite smile, almost like he was trying to make himself appear harmless. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re helping with the venue. Of course, it is.”

Her home was warm and beautifully cluttered, which Brady lovingly supported. But you could see Bucky look around as he slipped his shoes off with an assessing gaze. He was cataloging everything, exits, weak points, and the way the front door stuck slightly on the bottom hinge. 

Addison didn’t notice the mental checklist he was making, but you did.

His eyes stopped on a group photo, similar to the one you had had in your bedroom. You could tell he was looking at you. Everything was about you. 

“Where’s Brady?” you asked. You expected him to be there. 

“Oh, I ran out of ice cream and wine, so he went to get me more,” she said, setting tea on the table. 

“I’d ask how you’re holding up, but I think being out of ice cream and wine answers that,” you said, giving her another hug. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled and hugged you tighter. You saw Bucky’s jaw clench when you looked over her shoulder, but he relaxed after a moment. Now wasn’t the time to be jealous. Your best friend was hurting and you were going to comfort her. 

“I’m okay,” she said more to herself than you. “Sit.”

You took a seat in the chair across from Addison, but Bucky didn’t sit down. He stood behind you and rested a hand on the cushion. It looked supportive, but it was also a way to say he was powerful even in a place he didn’t own. 

“We hope you like the options,” he said, leaning over to hand her the folder. 

“I’m sure I will. Well. We. Brady’s opinion matters.” She flipped through the folder, her eyes widening with every turn. “Oh, my god,” she whispered, looking up at you. “This is beautiful.”

“Yeah?” you asked, smiling when she flipped through the folder again. 

You could see the tears forming in her eyes. Happy and relieved tears. That made you breathe easier. 

“Are you kidding? The terrace. The ballroom. Nice rooms for the guests.” She wiped her eyes. “This is even better than the original place, and I never thought I’d say that.”

“I know your heart was set on it, but the Red Room really is something,” you said. 

“I can’t believe they put this together so quickly,” she said, bouncing in her seat. “You really are the bestest best friend ever.”

You giggled. “So are you.”

She snuck a hesitant but thankful look at Bucky. “I know you said you could help with the deposit, but this place looks really pricey.”

Your heart went out to her. She knew Bucky was loaded but she didn’t want to take advantage, even in her vulnerable state. She was a good person. 

“It’s nothing,” Bucky said, bending down to kiss the top of your head. “You’re my girl’s best friend, and you deserve a beautiful wedding.”

“Thank you. Really.” Addison’s gaze flicked between you two as she set the folder aside. “And while I appreciate it, Bucky, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You tensed up, but Bucky rubbed your shoulder. “Go ahead,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. 

She cleared her throat. “I know a customer from the shop tried to… hurt her,” she said, her eyes full of sympathy when she glanced at you. “I know you did something to him in return.”

You opened your mouth and you weren’t sure what you were going to say. She wanted him dead for hurting you. You didn’t blame her. 

“I did. He won’t go near her again,” Bucky said, his voice almost soothing. “I protect what’s mine.”

You shivered. It sounded possessive, but also loving. It was a twisted branch on the ever growing tree. 

“I’m glad you did,” she said, reaching for her tea. “But I need you to promise me something.”

You looked back at him, catching the curious look on his face. “Name it.”

“Promise me that you’ll keep taking care of her, keep her safe, and that you’ll always have her best interests at heart,” she demanded, gaze unwavering. “You may be her boyfriend, but she’s my best friend.”

You smiled, despite the jackhammering of your heart from her fierce protectiveness. 

“I promise.” Bucky’s fingers lightly squeezed your shoulder to ground himself. “And I’m a man of my word,” he stated. 

“He is,” you agreed. 

Addison studied him, like she was trying to understand the gravity of who he really was. He stared back at her, a silent challenge in his eyes.  You didn’t exhale until she nodded. 

“That’s all I ask,” she said, giving you a small smile. “And you know you can still crash here if you need to.”

“Oh, no,” you said quickly, not wanting an argument to break out between them. “I’m doing great at the penthouse.”

“I set up a garden for her on the rooftop,” Bucky said proudly. 

Addison’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s impressive.” She looked through the folder one more time. “And thank you both for this. We owe you.”

You wanted to shake your head. Bucky did a great thing, but she didn’t owe him any favors. You wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

“You don’t owe us anything,” you said softly, reaching over to briefly take her hand. “As long as you and Brady both agree, we’ll get the ball rolling.”

“And speaking of Brady, we’ll get out of your hair so you two can talk,” Bucky said, helping you to your feet. “You’ve had enough stress to deal with and don’t need us hovering.”

Addison stood up, looking a lot lighter than before. “I’ll call you after we chat. Bestest best friend ever, and I love you,” she said, giving you one last hug. “And Bucky? You’re a good one.”

You didn’t know how to respond, but he smoothly slipped an arm around you. “I do my best,” he said, giving her a nod. “Take care.”

The echo of Addison’s gratitude settled in your chest while Bucky led you back to the car. You were relieved that she liked it, but you couldn’t relax. Not completely. 

“She liked it,” he said, running a hand along your thigh. “And she loves you.”

“She’s my best friend,” you said, your brows furrowing when you spotted a small store bag beside you. “What’s that?”

You gasped when Bucky pulled you into his lap and kissed you. He gently bit your bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue in when your lips parted. It grew heated with every passing second. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, his hips rolling up.

“I may have sent Ray to get condoms while we were talking. I couldn’t help myself,” he said, his lips trailing down your neck. “You’ve had a long morning. Let me take care of you.”

You whimpered when he sank his teeth in, the sound of your phone ringing suddenly filling the car. “But-”

He blindly reached over to silence it before you could answer. What if it was Natasha? Would she have found something so quickly?

“Later,” he growled, putting his hand between your bodies. “You trusted me last night. Trust me again.”

You closed your eyes. It was a long morning. You did let him in and you could do it again. 

Even as Natasha called your phone, you told yourself you could trust Bucky once more. 

Do we believe Bucky? And are you lovelies ready for things to heat up again? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

You whine in frustration and your ass bucks back wildly, grinding shamelessly against him, begging for more.

“Please, I … I didn’t mean it that way,” you slur, grabbing the edge of the sink to hold on. You’re practically shaking now, legs quivering, threatening to give in from how desperate you are for him. 

"All that smug talk about etiquette and the proper reception of a royal guest, unreachable for simple commoners," he growls as he thrusts back inside you, burying himself deep, and you moan loudly, all traces of protocol shattered and forgotten.

You’re practically drooling, jaw slack and eyes rolling back into your head from the onslaught of pleasure as Bucky’s cock drags along your swollen walls.

You – the princess of Sinclavia, the honored guest of the Minister of Foreign Affairs – are getting fucked dumb in the White House bathroom, bent over the cold marble sink like a desperate, cock-drunk whore, your elegant gown rucked up around your waist and soaked panties slung around your ankles.

So when you squealed and turned away, he feigned all the innocence he didn't have, "oh sweets, I'm—I'm so sorry. You should've knocked."

When you apologised again, stuttering and stammering as your thoughts were clouded by, hopefully, the sight of his fist dragging up and down his cock, the tip peeking through each time, he just shook his head and beckoned you over.

"You gonna tell anyone about this?" His blue eyes scanned your face, the way your eyes couldn't meet his even if you tried, or the way you bit your bottom lip in... anxiety? arousal? He couldn't tell. Not yet.

Two fingers tip your chin up, forcing you to meet his unwavering gaze.

"tell me... you gonna open that pretty mouth and snitch on me?"

"No professor... I— I won't." Your voice was trembling, weak, needy.

He nodded, all things falling in their place exactly like he once dreamed of.

"Such a good girl for your professor."

Ever the star student, you smiled brightly. Though your eyes kept straying down to his still hard cock that his pants barely concealed.

He liked that look.

He liked that a whole lot.

And he knew he had you in his hold now. And he knew you knew too.

"Now, if I put my hand down those panties, which I now are fucking soaked, will you stop me?" His grip on your jaw tightened, light enough that in theory, it's shouldn't matter.

But it did.

Thumb stroking your trembling bottom lip, he leaned in closer, soft lips brushing your ear, "Speak up now, sweet girl. Use your big words."

Your cheeks were burning. His touch felt like a hot knife, eyes piercing into your soul like a dagger. It felt like he could read the words before your mouth could even take their shape.

"No. I won't tell..."

The word left like a breath held too long, and he swallowed it down like it was the first breath he took in years. His lips met yours in a clash of restraint and hunger unleashed. His hand roamed your back until he cupped your ass, squeezing the plush as he groaned in your mouth.

He nipped at your bottom lip and soothes the sting with his tongue. "Fuck, you're so sweet...gonna taste you proper now."

He picked you up and settled you on his desk, right on top of the papers he was "grading".

He kissed you once more, chuckling at your dazed expression, chest panting and hands twitching.

He removed his coat— thick arms threatening to tear through the sleeves of the cotton shirt he wore—and draped it across his chair.

He slowly stepped close back to the desk, placing his hands on your thighs, stroking the soft stockings that adorned your pretty legs. "I dream about this every single night," he rasped, "my hand just doesn't feel good enough."

He knelt down on the floor—a man worshipping sin itself— and dragged the lace down your legs, kissing every inch of skin exposed.

He lazily stroked his fingers over the wetness seeping through the cotton, rubbing over your clit and dipping into your hole.

He kept his eyes between your legs; witnessing a miracle he didn't know he could hold in his hands.

When your hips twitched up, seeking more of the delicious friction, his gaze snapped to yours. Smirking, he cooed, "Yeah? You like that? Your professor giving you a helping hand?"

"Professor...please," you whined, and who was he to refuse your sweet voice begging for his touch.

He tore the panties straight down the middle, the sound echoing in the small wooden office.

He pressed small kisses along your inner thigh, sucking bruises into soft skin, his depraved mind working overtime. Having you at his mercy, all the things he could do to your body...

He pressed a peck to your clit, looking up at you as you held your breath in anticipation.

"You really are my best student..."

He licked up and down your folds, drinking in your nectar like a man starved. Your hands pulled at his hair at their own accord as he took your clit between his lips, the overwhelming sensations making your brain swim in delight.

"So fucking sweet doll. You kept this pussy hidden from me... all this time when you were sitting there all pretty, nodding along to whatever I said...you kept this hidden from me."

"Please..." you pulled his face back to your weeping pussy, and he nuzzled into your heat like the good professor he is.

His finger traced your lips before pushing in just the tip, and you sobbed his name—a woman possessed.

He pulled away, beard wet with the evidence of your pleasure and lips shining, "gotta keep quiet sweetheart. As much as I like your voice, I don't want others to join in on the fun. You're all mine now... have been since the moment you walked in."

He tugged at his tie, swearing under his breath when it didn't come undone like it usually did.

Finally, finally, when he was free from the hold of the silk, he stood up, rolling it between his hands. "Open wide, sweets. Can't risk it, huh?"

You opened, and he spit onto your tongue, the taste of you and him together making your head spin. His lips curved into a devilish smile as he watched his pretty girl be so good for him.

He put the tie between your teeth, the silk smooth against your tongue. You gagged lightly when he pushed it in deeper and he tsked, "gotta make sure it works right, can't have my star student getting caught dirty.."

When he was done tweaking along the makeshift gag, he smiled—all proud of his debauchery.

His fingers travelled down south again, pushing in to the knuckle. Your back arched as you whined into the fabric, holding onto his broad shoulders to stay upright.

He wasted no time fucking you with his fingers now, going in and out at just the right pace, fingers curling just right into the sweet spot that no one has ever been able to reach.

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he brought his thumb up to rub circles at your clit, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine, each nerve ending alive and oh so awake.

You moaned, high-pitched and needy, and it was almost too loud even with the tie on, too loud that he had to press a kiss to your lips—his tie still caught between—to remind you to keep it low, to keep the both of you hidden from prying ears.

His fingers sped up and his lips moved to your neck, tongue dragging across the expanse of your throat and you could do nothing more than let him take what he wanted—licking and sucking at your pulse point, sure to leave the mark of his presence for days to come.

You were dancing right on the edge, too close to the sweet, sweet release only Bucky could give you now.

Your toes curled and your thighs shook, closing around his hand—trapping him in or begging him to stop, you didn't know. Not yet.

"You gonna come princess, let go... I'm here. Come for me...make a mess on my desk," lips placing soft kisses on your temple, hands never losing their rhythm.

You came with a broken sob, clinging to him like a lifeline, the only that kept you from floating away.

"that's it...such a good girl, so good f'me... so pretty like this..."

When your senses came back, your mind finally back in the small wooden office, did you realise what exactly you did, who exactly you did it with.

Was it wrong for you to do this with your professor?

Yeah...

Well, you didn't care.

I kept picturing him talking like snape at the start lmao.. "Turn..... to.....page.....394" 😭😭😭💔

I don't know why I keep writing everything other than working on my actual fics, but.... I'm also having fun.

Bucky lifts your hips with one hand and braces against the headboard with the other. His hips slam down, pushing you into the bed, his large, warm body pinning you down as he grinds into you. Frantic, languid strokes. Deep, hard thrusts. You're so full. So full. You can’t take it, god 'going to split you in two. You watch as your belly bulges, a gasp of I can’t, its too much Bucky spills out.

And it makes him feral to know he's so deep.

His thick cock hits that sensitive spot inside you like he fucking owns it. Pleasure jolts through your veins like a live wire, white-hot sensations climbing higher and higher in your belly, crushing your chest from the inside out.

A silent broken sob settles in the base of your throat, his hand curves around it so he can feel your moans. Your legs tighten around him, every single part of you stiffening from the sheer, unbearable pleasure crashing through you in heady, endless waves. Your pussy spasming around him as he circles his hips. He keeps stretching you around his cock, and the thick, veiny swollen ridges slides across your spot only to slowly drag over it, again and again, every time he pulls out until you shatter.

He feels your orgasm hit you, feels wave after wave roll through you, leaving you a sweaty, breathless trembling wreck under him.

You gave him what he was so desperate for and Bucky's proud of you, you took him so well, made him feel so good.

It's almost enough for him.

He almost feels bad it becomes clear that you think he's finally done with you. Bucky meant everything he told you earlier when he was begging to come for him again. He is going to take real good care of you, praise you for being so good for him, give you everything you need.

And the Red Room was where he revealed the truth about you and his mother.

You closed your eyes. It seemed like a lifetime ago when in reality it was days. Everything moved fast in his world. You were barely keeping up.

“Hey.” Bucky squeezed your hand. He held it the entire drive over and, shockingly, behaved himself. Maybe he was being considerate since you felt bad for Addison. “You ready to go in?”

“Yeah.” You managed a smile when he helped you out of the car and grabbed your workout bag. Were you ever going to get used to having such nice things? “You really won’t let me carry that?”

He paused with an offended stare. “What kind of future husband would I be if I made you carry this?” he asked, shooting Ray and Curtis a look that told them not to offer.

You shook your head. “I guess I should consider myself lucky that I can still carry my purse.”

Bucky chuckled and slid an arm around your waist, guiding you inside. Having Ray and Curtis flank you reminded you of the danger that surrounded this new life of yours and just how important you were. You had to take it one day at a time, and it was okay to mourn the loss of the normal life you had before all of this. It was only fair.

You were surprised to see Natasha waiting in the lobby in a full black bodysuit, her arms crossed and an aura that said she wasn’t to be messed with. She was truly an intimidating person without trying. She was also kind enough to squeeze in a self-defense lesson since Bucky demanded time to discuss Addison’s wedding.

“Thanks for-”

The redhead held up a hand, effectively cutting Bucky off. “You want to thank someone? Thank Antonia. She’s the one who’s going to make this wedding and reception happen since you decided your time is more important than anyone else’s. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but here we are,” she said, giving you a ghost of a smile. “Antonia will show you the space and provide details if you want to send that to Addison so she can decide the direction she wants to go. After that, she’ll bring you to the private gym.” 

“I really appreciate it, Natasha. You and Antonia,” you said. You couldn’t imagine how much time and money it would take to get everything set with such a short timeframe. 

“I think it goes without saying that you are the only reason I’m doing this,” she said, giving Bucky a pointed look. “An electrical fire. Tragic. Strange timing.”

“Very strange and tragic,” he agreed, smirking just a little. “But I’m glad you’re willing to help my girl.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, not dramatic but lethal. “Wipe that look off your face,” she ordered without raising her voice. “A woman’s wedding venue burning down isn’t an excuse for you to preen.”

Bucky’s smirk faded, but you sensed that it wasn’t out of shame. “I’m not preening. Like you, I’m trying to help.”

“I’m sure you are,” she muttered, her gaze softening a fraction when she looked at you again. 

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to believe so badly that Bucky didn’t have a hand in what happened. Was it burying your head in the sand to think he was innocent? 

A pair of sharp heels clacked quietly along the floor, a woman in a sleek black dress walking toward you with a tablet and folder in hand. She moved with confidence and grace, almost appearing like she ran the place. You wondered what her story was.

“This is Antonia,” Natasha introduced, and you instantly sensed that she fully trusted and respected her. 

“I’ll be showing you the event spaces and answer any questions you have.” She shook your hand, firm but not overpowering. She hardly glanced at the men, not deferring to them or seeking approval. “I understand we’re working with a short timeframe, and I’m sorry about your friend’s original venue, but she is lucky to have a friend who cares so much,” she added.

Your throat tightened. She was just doing her job, but you believed her words. It felt nice to meet someone who didn’t have a hidden agenda or power play in mind. 

“You’re in good hands,” Natasha promised, giving Antonia a nod. “See you when you’re done.”

Antonia gestured for you to follow her, and Bucky pulled you closer. Ray and Curtis wordlessly followed. You wished Addison was there with you, if only to make sure she was okay.

You stopped at a pair of double doors. “Here we are.”

The shift in the atmosphere was immediate. The terrace before you was like a secret garden suspended above the city. The view made the skyline look gentle and hopeful.

“This is where the ceremony would be,” Antonia explained, stepping aside so you could take it in. “Sunset hits right along that line.” She pointed toward the far edge. “Perfect for photos. Perfect for vows.”

You teared up picturing Addison walking toward Brady, her dress catching in the light, both of their faces soft and full of love.

“The photos Mr. Barnes sent over. Those were what Addison had in mind for her ceremony, correct?”

You nodded. You had forwarded Bucky images from the group chat. There were soft blush florals, warm gold accents, and long tables with candles that looked like starlight. Addison’s dream was romantic, airy, and elegant in your opinion.

She pulled up a tablet and showed you some mock-ups. “These are similar to what she wanted. We can recreate the arch exactly, or adjust it to fit the terrace’s shape.”

The images were stunning, like Addison’s vision only elevated. “She’d love that.”

“I hope so. And if she wants changes, we’ll make them,” she promised, directing you to another set of double doors. “The ballroom is through here.”

The space was also breathtaking. High ceilings with soft and warm lighting, velvet drapes in deep jewel tones. It felt elegant and luxurious, a dream reception space for Addison and Brady.

“There is, of course, a private area for the bridal party, and we’ll swap out the colors to match the theme,” she said, showing you a few more mock-ups. “We’ll make a canopy of lights on the ceiling so it looks like you’re all dancing under the stars.”

The pictures blurred together. There were so many things they could do with the space. It just wasn’t completely neutral territory, as much as you wished it was. It was Natasha’s, yet it was still part of Bucky’s world. Could you let Addison’s wedding happen in a place that shaped a portion of your unraveling? 

Antonia paused, seeming to sense your hesitation. “We can explore whatever options they wish if you don’t think they’d like this.”

Bucky searched your face, not pushing. He watched. He waited. 

You swallowed hard. Addison deserved a venue that felt like her and not a shadow of your own story. But the space was stunning. It was available and safe. Bucky was offering it with no strings, or at least claimed not to. 

Bucky cleared his throat and addressed Antonia. “Give us a minute.” He turned back to you once she stepped away, his hand rubbing your waist. “If this feels wrong for Addison, or you, we’ll walk away. I don’t care how perfect it looks.”

You blinked. He didn’t look upset or offended at your hesitation. He wasn’t pressuring you. The choice was yours.

You were thankful for the generosity yet fearful of what it symbolized. Accepting this was tightening Bucky’s hold on you. Guilt settled in next for even hesitating because this was about your best friend and her day, not you.

“She deserves a beautiful and magical day,” you said, letting him rest his forehead against yours. “And if they can make her dream come true here and it’s what she wants, then we should go for it.”

Bucky’s lips brushed yours. “Then it’s settled until she makes that call.”

You inhaled once Antonia came back over, the knot loosening in your chest. “I appreciate you putting the mock-ups together and showing us the space.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she said, giving what you imagined was a rare smile. “We’ll give her the perfect wedding.”

That mattered more than you could say.

Bucky stepped closer, watching you instead of the space. “And the rooms? I said so earlier on the phone, but some guests probably need a new place to stay.”

Antonia raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m aware that they’ll need space, which is why we’ve moved things around to reserve the entire guest wing. Private suites for the bridal party, standard rooms for guests, and a dedicated floor for family. Security included.”

You exhaled slowly. You were sure Addison and Brady were worried about arrangements for everyone. “I hope that it wasn't too much trouble to move things.”

“Of course not.” She turned an eye back to Bucky. “Payment will be due even if all rooms aren’t used or they choose to have their wedding elsewhere. We need some compensation for the changes.”

“Of course,” Bucky agreed, his usual confidence shining through his smile since money was no object.

Antonia handed you the folder and her card. “I took the liberty of putting the photos and layout options in here for review, as well as the accommodations. She can decide without stepping foot in the building yet. And she can reach out with any questions or concerns.”

“Thank you so much,” you said. This could work.

Bucky’s hand tightened more on you, proud and possessive, when Antonia led you down a hall. “She’s going to love it,” he assured you, already certain she’d agreed to the place. You had a feeling she’d agree, too.

Natasha stood at the end of the hall, waiting. She smirked when Antonia shook your hand again and pointedly ignored the men. “She’s good, isn’t she?”

“She is,” you agreed. Having the mock-ups done that quickly was impressive. 

“Give her the bag, Barnes, and stay out here. I don’t need you trying to distract her.”

Bucky made a face that had you giggling when he handed you the bag. “Don’t break my girl.”

Natasha didn’t blink. “If she breaks, that’s on you.”

You snorted, and Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple before stepping back. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, Kotyonok.”

Natasha jerked her head toward the door. “Come on. Time to change. First lesson starts now.”

“Kick some ass,” Curtis encouraged, which was the only thing he said since you walked in.

You kissed Bucky’s lips to prevent him from saying something scathing to your bodyguard and followed Natasha. You expected to feel dread when you walked through the door, but you felt empowered. You were stepping into a version of yourself that wasn’t just surviving Bucky’s world, but learning to stand in it. 

The gym felt colder than the rest of the hotel. Polished floors and mirrors that wouldn’t allow you to hide. They would reflect every hesitation you made.

“Go change.”

You did so quickly, not wanting to keep her waiting. She didn’t waste time, tossing you a pair of gloves and nodding toward the nearby mat. Her demeanor had changed slightly. Not harsh, but uncompromising. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this today?”

You exhaled, doubt creeping in anyway. “I’m sure.”

She nodded after a moment. “Let’s warm up then.”

She led you through stretches before ordering you to stand. “We’re going to start simple. Blocking. Small things.”

“I don’t know how,” you admitted. 

“I know. That’s why I’m going to show you.”

She guided your arm through a block, slow and controlled. You were fine for a minute. But the moment she stepped behind you to correct your stance, fear slammed into your chest. It wasn’t because of her. You knew she wasn’t a threat, but your body tensed anyway. 

Clark’s hands on you. The way you panicked. The helplessness that took over your senses. How the very air was stolen from your lungs when he knocked you on your back. 

You blinked hard, grounding yourself in the present. Natasha wasn’t Clark, and this wasn’t that night. You weren’t powerless. Not anymore.

But your muscles didn’t quite know the difference yet.

“You’re holding your breath. Don’t,” Natasha said quietly. “That’s how you freeze.”

You exhaled shakily.

“Good.” She carefully moved in front of you. “Again.”

You concentrated, your arm coming up almost instinctively. But you flinched when her hand went too close to your neck. She paused. You expected annoyance or pity, but she merely assessed you. 

“You’re remembering,” she guessed, her voice low. 

“Yeah.” Your throat felt dry. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Never apologize for surviving.”

The memory of Bucky coming home with blood on his hands surfaced as she took you through the next drill, and it made your stomach twist for a different reason. How he beat up John with his friends. How he punched Zemo after his confession. The man who handed you his heart was prone to violence, but never against you. 

He spent so much time terrifying you, cornering you until he had you in his clutches. But he wasn’t trying to scare you anymore. He was attempting to loosen his grip, he really was. He still wanted you with a kind of intensity that felt like standing too close to a fire. 

And now he was waiting for you outside of the gym instead of demanding your full attention. 

The contrast between who he was when you met him and who he was now made your head spin and chest ache. 

“Don’t think about who you were,” Natasha urged, demonstrating a wrist break. “Think about who you’re becoming.”

You really did try, but when she grabbed your wrist, your breath stuttered. The room tilted. Clark’s shadow flickered at the edges of your vision.

She released you instantly. “Hey,” she said, stepping back, palms open. “Look at me.”

Your eyes burned as you did. 

“You’re safe,” she promised, her voice gentle. “You’re not that woman anymore.”

“Then why do I still feel like I am?” you whispered. 

Why were you waiting for the other shoe to drop again?

“Because everything is still fresh. It happened not too long ago, and you’re trying so hard to feel normal,” she pointed out. You couldn’t deny that. “You’re not weak for feeling what you feel. And you’re not alone.”

You sniffled and nodded. You were trying so hard. It was okay if you faltered. 

“You good?” she asked, waiting until you nodded again. “Okay. Again. Slower.”

You didn’t flinch when she took your wrist. At least, not much. That was progress. 

Clark would never touch you again. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you. Whatever happened, you would come out stronger. 

Your arms ached by the end of the session. Your legs trembled, too, and sweat clung to your skin. You weren’t fearless, but you weren’t frozen either. 

“You did better than you think.” Natasha almost smiled when she handed you the water bottle. “It’ll be easier next time.”

You huffed a laugh. You weren’t so sure about that. But you didn’t fall on your ass. 

She watched you sip the water, your heart starting to go back to normal. “There’s something on your mind.”

Your fingers tightened around the bottle. “I’m fine.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, too perceptive. “You’re many things, but fine isn’t one of them right now.”

You exhaled, the truth pressing against your ribs. She wasn’t judging you or prying. She was giving you a door to walk through if you wanted.

So, you did. 

“I slept with him,” you said quietly.

Natasha hardly reacted. Not a flinch, a gasp, nothing. “And?” she asked, her voice even. 

“I made the choice,” you said, lifting your chin. She looked at you like she already knew that. “It wasn’t an accident, and he didn’t pressure me. I chose him. And now I’m living with it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you wondered what she saw. Was it the fear you used to carry? The woman who trembled at the idea of Bucky’s attention? Or the woman sitting here now, tired from training but not broken?

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” she said, sipping her own water. “But you do owe yourself honesty.”

“I am being honest,” you whispered. Lying to yourself wouldn’t help. “I’m not pretending it didn’t happen or everything is magically okay. I’m just…” You tried to find the right words. “I’m trying to figure out what it means going forward.” 

You thought of how normal the morning felt, a small smile touching your lips. The sweet moment in the shower, cooking breakfast together. Even the day before with the garden, giving you another sanctuary. He wasn’t erasing the path of how he got you, but he was at least trying to make sure the path wasn’t as bumpy. 

Natasha nodded slowly. “Good. Because pretending is how people can get hurt. And you may not have all the answers today.”

You looked down at your hands still shaking slightly from the drills, but more steady now. “I’m not completely afraid of him anymore.”

“That’s not the same as feeling safe with him,” she said quietly.

“I know. I’m not naive, but my body knows he won’t do to me what Clark tried to do,” you said, wiping your forehead. “I know who he is and what he’s capable of. And I still chose him.”

You chose him entirely and you couldn’t take that back. 

Natasha’s expression shifted between respect, concern, and acceptance. “Then live with it. Not as some sort of punishment to yourself but as your choice,” she said, holding out a hand to help you up. “He may have pulled you into his world, but you’re the one who gets to tilt the axis.”

The weight of her words settled on your shoulders but they didn’t weigh you down. “So, you don’t think I messed up?” you asked in a small voice. 

“I think Barnes messed up by how he pursued you and so many other things, but you didn’t. You’re surviving, and I would never judge the choices you make. You have my word,” she answered.

“Thanks,” you whispered. It made you feel better. “For listening, the lessons, the wedding.”

She didn’t have to do any of that. 

“You may not be so thankful when our lessons continue,” she smirked, nudging you. “Now get changed before he barges in here.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” you teased.

The locker room was quiet except for the soft hum of the ventilation system. You peeled off your gloves and set your bag on the bench, your muscles trembling from the lesson. The adrenaline was fading, leaving behind a strange mix of exhaustion and clarity. God, you thought you were in better shape. 

You were halfway through pulling off your shirt when you heard Natasha’s voice coming from just around the corner. You didn’t even hear the door open. You really needed to be more aware of your surroundings. 

“I need eyes on that venue fire,” she said, low and sharp. “Not his people. Mine.”

Your pulse jumped and you tried not to listen, but you leaned in. Who was she talking to? And why discuss this so close to you?

“Electrical fires don’t usually take out an entire building that fast. And the timing is… convenient,” she continued, your fingers tightening on your shirt. “If it was an accident, fine. If not, I want to know who benefits.”

She didn’t outright accuse Bucky. She didn’t say he would benefit. But who else would?

“I’m not undermining him. I’m helping her,” she argued, not sounding the slightest bit guilty. “This is about her and her friend, and she deserves to know if her world is shifting under her feet again.”

You held your breath when things went quiet. She must’ve ended the call and walked out. You didn’t move for a minute. You couldn’t. 

No. You didn’t want to be suspicious. Not after everything. 

“Kotyonok?”

Your heart jumped to your throat when you turned and saw Bucky standing there, a tender smile on his handsome face as he looked you over. How did he get past Natasha? Did he hear the call, too?

“Can I join you?” he asked, tilting his head. “Or would you prefer that we shower together again at home before we pay Addison a visit?”

Hmm. Is Bucky innocent or did he have a hand in what happened? And what will Addison think of the venue? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

But he still wanted your heart and soul.

You shifted, which made his hold tighten more. His touch was always enough to brand you in some form and keep you close, but not enough to physically harm you. That instinct was there even while he slept. 

His eyes didn’t open until you shifted again, heavy with sleep but soft with something that made your chest ache. “I thought for a second that last night was just a dream,” he said, his voice rough.

“It wasn’t,” you whispered. The ache between your thighs reminded you that it was very real. It was the choice you made. 

Looking around the room, you realized it didn’t look any brighter or duller than it had the day before, but it also didn’t look the same.  You were seeing things differently. Maybe the rose-tinted glasses finally came off, the ones you stubbornly refused to remove. Bucky could’ve snatched them off, but why do that when you had to see it for yourself?

He tilted your chin, bringing your gaze back to him. “It was everything and more,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. There was no rush or urgency. Only the quiet intimacy of waking up beside you the way he always wanted.

He eventually moved to his back and stretched, his limbs and scars shifting with the movement. While you moved to cover your chest with the blanket, he made no move to shield himself. He had nothing to hide. It wasn’t fair that he looked that good in the morning. You could look like death warmed over, and he would still call you beautiful.

“Breakfast? I can make us an omelette,” he said, glancing at you with a dreamy smile. “After we have a shower.”

You swallowed slightly. “We?”

“It’ll help save on the water bill,” he replied, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, because you can’t afford it,” you teased.

He laughed and rolled on top of you, making you gasp. How was he hard already? “I’ll start the water.” His knuckles grazed your cheek. “We can get your birth control figured out today, too.”

Of course, he wanted that sorted out. He respected your wishes to use protection the night before, but he wouldn’t want that all the time. Why would he when he made it clear that some of his fantasies involved filling you up?

“Okay,” you whispered, surprised when he rolled off you and got to his feet. Like the king he was, he moved toward the bathroom tall and proud. He came back seconds later with your robe. “Thanks.”

“As much as I don’t want you covering yourself up, I have a feeling you aren’t quite ready to walk around naked yet.” He winked before leaving you alone once again.

It took you a bit to get to your feet and slip the robe on. While you didn’t move with the same composure he did, you no longer walked through the room like a visitor. You were now a permanent resident, and you felt the weight of your choices with every step.

Bucky smiled at you as he brushed his teeth and you smiled back softly, the water from the shower providing background noise. You stopped when you saw your reflection. Your eyes opened wider, seeing the cracks in who you used to be filled in with Bucky and what led you to this point. You wouldn’t call yourself phoenix reborn since you still carried the ashes. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented while you brushed your teeth, which almost made you laugh. 

“You said that last night,” you reminded him once you rinsed out your mouth. There was nothing beautiful about cleaning your teeth, but leave it to him to make it seem like an ethereal task. 

He grinned and shrugged. “I’m saying it again because it’s true.” He turned and leaned a hip against the counter. “One day, you’re going to look in the mirror and realize you aren’t just beautiful. You’re so much more.”

Your chest tightened and you didn’t have a response. You did, however, reach over and touch his hand. It wasn’t just his opinion that you were beautiful and more than enough, but his truth. He would preach it until you believed it.

You moved toward the shower, steam curling around you. He was by your side in an instant, helping you remove your robe and testing the water in case it was too hot. He stepped in before you and held out a hand to help you, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your eyes closed as he guided you under the spray, the heat cascading over your skin.

“See? Saving on the water bill,” he teased, his voice light and happy.

You kept your eyes closed. You half expected the world to end by sleeping with Bucky, but you didn’t have to look outside to know it still continued like normal. Your friends were going about their days. The sun would rise and set like always. Tonight you’d fall asleep in the bed you two made together. 

Moisture built in the corners of your eyes. Something lingered within you since it was hard to forget how you arrived there. You believed you reclaimed something last night and you wouldn’t diminish the choices you made. Doing so would set you back. 

But the embers of your fire drifted until they faded into the air and you had to wonder if you didn’t fight hard enough for yourself. Did you give in quickly out of fear for those closest to you, or did you hold out as long as you could? The inescapable truth was that it would always end this way, no matter how long it took. And you had to keep your head up because this journey was far from over.

“You’re in your head,” he whispered, your eyes opening in time to see him grab the body wash beside him. You refused to look lower and didn’t watch the water drip down his abs to the large cock that still had you aching. 

“I keep retreating there,” you whispered back. Kind of like how you had retreated to your library. It was a way for you to keep processing everything. 

He poured the extravagant liquid onto his palm and rubbed his hands together, not pushing you to share more and you appreciated that. It surprised you that he was able to shower with the prosthetic and the hand on your shoulder was gentler than you expected. He rubbed the soap down your arms with care, light but no less intense.

“You’re letting me take care of you,” he murmured, his hands moving to your chest. His touch lingered and made your knees weak, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. Not let, at least. “Even in your uncertainty, you’re letting me.”

“Who said I’m uncertain?” 

“I can read you like a book.” His hands dipped lower, your skin growing warmer. “And you wouldn’t retreat into that beautiful head of yours if you were certain, Kotyonok.”

In a world where it was easy for you to hide from so many, he found and saw you every time. “I was certain last night,” you assured both him and yourself. 

He smirked, but there was nothing smug about it. “You were, but you’ve been through a version of hell and the aftermath of that doesn’t just vanish.” His hands roamed your hips as if to ground himself. “Not to mention, I helped create that hell. I didn’t make this easy for you because all I wanted was you and I did whatever I could to have you.”

Your hands rested against his chest as you took your next breath. He was so unapologetic in his admission, but it was nice that he at least acknowledged his role as the puppet master in this. “Was last night really better than you imagined? Because I know you have a vivid imagination.”

The fantasies he shared with you so far were proof of that.

He kissed your lips, sighing at the feel. “It was everything,” he breathed, backing you against the tiles and bringing his mouth back to yours. He kissed you until your lungs almost gave out. “We didn’t just make love. It was like our souls were one.”

You didn’t tremble, but you braced yourself since this was part of the fallout of your decision. Giving him your body fueled his love and obsession. You just didn’t know if it would help things grow or if he’d tighten the bolts on your cage without realizing.

His lips brushed some of the droplets from your neck and you felt his hardness press against you, yet you weren’t afraid. He’d eventually fuck you in the shower, but you knew it wouldn’t be today. “You want more nights like that,” you mused.

Having you would only hold him for so long.

“Not just nights.” He kissed back to your lips and he groaned when you moved a hand to his wet hair. “Mornings and afternoons, too.”

That was a dream. Mornings, afternoons, and nights between the sheets. Not just making love, but making each other laugh and sharing secrets. Reading books together, talking about nothing and everything. An ease of being together with no fear, holding each other like nothing else mattered. 

“You love me so fiercely,” you whispered, tracing a finger along his jaw. “And you taught me a lesson that I wasn’t aware I needed to learn.”

“I do love you.” He tilted his head curiously while leaning into your touch. “What lesson is that?”

“That love given in its entirety can leave behind scars. And…” You brushed your finger against his lips, his focus solely on you and the truth that you weren’t afraid to speak. “We’re not meant to hold onto love, but we’re meant to let it move through us.”

Holding onto love was like trying to hold your breath. You had to exhale eventually. Putting chains on the person you claimed to love also constricted breathing. It would suffocate them if they weren’t careful. You wanted the kind of love that felt as natural as breathing. 

“Scars don’t scare me, Kotyonok,” he murmured, kissing your fingers. “They’re proof that love lived here, that it survived, and that it mattered.”

You had to smile at the man who wouldn’t sway when it came to how he felt for you. “Then let it move through us,” you urged. You weren’t sure if you could ever dial down the strength of his love for you, but you could help him learn where to direct it. “Don’t lock it in a cage. Let it thrive.”

Bucky had to let you thrive.

His eyes softened, like your words resonated with him. “That’s what I want,” he promised, sliding a hand to your waist. “I want our love to thrive.”

His kiss wasn’t desperate or consuming, but it was threaded with something deeper. Love didn’t have to trap. The invisible scars might leave you changed, love could flow and heal.

“Good. Because I don’t feel like staying in my head,” you said, gathering a handful of water and lightly splashing him.

He took a step back, his eyes wide. His expression had a laugh bubbling up in your throat. “Did you just splash me?”

You shrugged innocently. “Bet that got rid of your hard-on real quick, didn’t it?” 

“Oh, I’m practically a walking hard-on around you, and that isn’t going away,” he growled playfully, grabbing your wrist and tugging you back against him.

“Hey! I’ll fall!” You shrieked when he tickled your side and you thought you’d slip, but he chuckled and kept you upright.

“I’ve got you,” he promised in your ear, and you knew he didn’t just mean his current hold.

The combined laughter echoed off the tiles as he kept tickling you and you both eventually ended up on the shower floor. His eyes and nose crinkled as you shrieked again and kicked your feet. It should’ve been ridiculous, both of you wet, naked, and laughing in the shower. But it got you out of your head and that was a great feeling.

You were both breathless when the water began to cool and you didn’t protest when he helped you to your feet to lead you out. Your sides ached in the best way as he dried you off with a towel, and he looked lighter than before. Was this really the same man who came home with blood on his hands? 

“When I said I want mornings, afternoons, and nights like last night, I meant this, too,” he whispered. 

You looked at him and saw the contrast that unsettled you. A man who could commit heinous crimes and a man who cradled you like you were the only thing that kept him human. A king who ruled his kingdom who wanted ordinary gestures that couldn’t be bought with money or power. 

“That’s what I want, too,” you whispered. Not that you needed to tell him that. He knew. 

“Good.” He smiled and reached behind you to pat your ass. “Now get dressed so I can make you breakfast.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, knowing the only reason he wanted you dressed was so Ray and Curtis didn’t see you in your robe. If this was your home like he said, he’d have to get used to it eventually. “You get dressed, too.”

Your eyes flickered to your phone once you picked your clothes out. You’d have to tell Addison about last night. She’d ask questions, maybe raise concerns, and be happy if you were happy. The way any best friend would.

Bucky had a bounce in his step as he dressed, even more prominent than the one he had after you blew him. He practically had “I got laid” written all over his face. You wondered how he’d act when he didn’t have to wear a condom. Would he throw a party?

He tugged your hand toward the kitchen after you grabbed your phone. Ray and Curtis weren’t in there like you expected. “So, you’re going to make us omelettes?” you asked, perching yourself on a stool.

Bucky rummaged through the fridge, his expression serious when he took out the eggs and cheese. “You’re going to witness art in the form of breakfast.”

You put your chin in your hand. “You meant the art of burning breakfast?”

He put a hand to his chest. “I’m a man of many talents, and that includes feeding my girl.”

You smothered a laugh when he cracked an egg with too much force, half of it splattering on the counter. “You sure about that, Bucky?” 

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still a man of many talents,” he muttered. 

“Okay. I’m not an expert with making omelettes like I am with baking brownies, but I do know how to crack an egg,” you teased, sliding off the stool and going around to help him. “So, please, let me help.”

Bucky didn’t protest, letting you crack the eggs. His hand covered yours when you held the bowl and he helped you whisk, guiding without controlling. There was intimacy in the task, his lips brushing your temple and his sigh happy when you leaned into him. It was simple, ordinary, and what love should feel like.

By the time you transferred everything to the pan, he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. “Perfect. Just like you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, but you were smiling.

“Ridiculously in love,” he countered, sneaking a kiss in when you turned his head. “I’ll start the coffee.”

“That should’ve been task number one,” you teased. 

It didn’t take long for the aromas of the coffee and cheese from the pan to fill the space, wrapping you both in morning warmth. You noticed he only took out one plate, intending for you both to share the meal. Another form of intimacy that thrived in the daylight.

“We have a lot around the corner,” he told you, helping you plate the omelette once it was ready. “Thor’s party, seeing Steve and his girl and…” He stared off for a moment. “Visiting my mom’s grave.”

You put a hand on his arm, feeling the tension slowly leave his body. “I need to make the arrangement for that,” you reminded him. “And I’ll be there with you.” He didn’t have to go through that alone. 

The clouded look faded from his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered, helping you take a seat. 

He fed you the first bite and you fed him a bite in return. You wondered how overwhelming Thor’s party would be. Hanging out with Steve was going to be something, too. The silver lining was that you still had time off from work to rest if things were too much.

“And I still need to meet with Natasha,” you said, feeding him another bite. You weren’t going to push off something that would help you mentally and physically. 

“And I need to have the team start working on the fundraiser.”

You almost forgot he had promised that. “How are you not exhausted all the time?” you asked. His schedule had to be crazy before he came into your life. He ran his club, and he had his hands in other businesses. How did he do it? 

“I told you I was asleep until you came along,” he pointed out, gripping your wrist and kissing it. He had to feel your heart racing. “But that’s also why I have people to help.” His loyal crew, of course. “And I promise you’ll always come first.”

You smiled softly. “I know.”

He turned your body in the stool toward him, his hands moving up your thighs. “I’d love to make you come again,” he said, his voice husky. “Put you right on this island and eat your sweet pussy as an early dessert.”

You didn’t mean to whimper. “What if your men walk in?”

“They won’t,” he said, opening your legs more. “Took everything in me not to wake you up with my tongue buried in you. Should’ve dropped to my knees in the shower. I really need a taste. Don’t deprive me.”

The visual made you tremble. “Now that I have clothes on, you want to eat me out?” you asked, your cheeks hot.

A hand slid higher. “Tell me you don’t want it,” he dared you, your panties dampening. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.”

“You’re insatiable," you whispered. The man was addicted to you. He’d been hard practically all morning and that had to hurt. 

He opened his mouth to say something else when your phone rang, annoyance filling his eyes. He didn’t reach for it, but he did crane his neck to see the name on the screen. “I didn’t think Addison usually called this early.”

You frowned, a weird feeling swirling in your gut and quickly erasing your arousal. “She doesn’t.” She usually texted. You knew she wanted to talk to Bucky, but something in you said that wasn’t the reason for her call. “Hello?”

You didn’t hear anything on the other end and you wondered if the call disconnected. “D-Do you have a second to talk?” Addison finally asked, her voice small. 

Your heart stopped. You could already tell she’d been crying. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Bucky sat up straight up at your tone, the sob from your best friend loud enough for both of you to hear. “Our wedding venue…” She sniffled a few times. “There was a fire.”

“A fire?” you repeated. Did you hear her correctly? “Wait, there was a fire at the venue?”

“An electrical issue. The whole building burned down.” She hiccuped and you could hear Brady in the background trying to calm her down. “W-We can’t have our wedding there.”

“Oh, Addison. I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your heart breaking for her. 

You were thankful something hadn’t happened to her, Brady, or another loved one, but you were still upset for her. Her heart was set on that venue. Every detail had been planned. They had to book it far in advance. 

“No one was hurt, thankfully, but I don’t know what to do.”

You stared at the man sitting beside you. You didn’t want to suspect him, not after he promised he wouldn’t hurt your loved ones. And he stared back at you with nothing but concern and not a single trace of guilt or victory. 

“Can you put her on speaker, please?” he asked. 

You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the screen. But the way Bucky’s voice carried calmly instead of demanding made you nod and press the button. Addison’s shaky breaths filled the kitchen within seconds, her grief spilling into the space you and Bucky had just filled with warmth and laughter.

“Addison? This is Bucky.” His voice wasn’t as gentle as how he spoke with you, but it was softer than how he spoke with most and vastly different from how he spoke to your parents. “We’re both so sorry that you’re going through this.”

There was a pause and a muffled sob, Brady’s voice once again trying to soothe his fiancé. 

“We’ll help you figure this out.” Bucky covered your hand with his, your eyes wide. “There are other venues, and if you want, I’ll make sure you get something even better than what you lost.”

Addison sniffled and you wished you were there to hug her. “But it won’t be the same.” She sounded so fragile. “We planned everything around that place.”

You turned your hand and squeezed his, a silent warning to tread carefully. This was your best friend. “I understand that, and I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but what matters is you and Brady. The venue won’t be the thing that makes the marriage. It’ll be you two,” he said, his eyes tender as he gazed at you. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help. I can even put down the deposit at another venue or help negotiate things so you won’t have to move the date.”

Addison’s sobs quieted, replaced by shaky breaths. “You’d… You’d do that?”

Your mouth opened, his thumb brushing over your wrist to ground you. That was a huge thing to promise, but he had connections all over the city and could make it happen. Would he do this with no strings attached? Would he expect something in return?

You observed him carefully, trying to find the answer. There was still no trace of manipulation in his gaze or tone. His power seemed to be about offering support instead of control because Addison was important to you. 

“You’re my girl’s best friend. Of course, I want to help,” he said, your heart stopping. This wasn’t jealous Bucky who couldn’t stand your attention being on someone else. This was growth.

“And we will help you,” you promised, your voice tender. “We’ll help you find something together.”

You heard a couple of deep breaths. “Thank you. I’ll call you later when my head’s a bit more clear, okay?”

“Do you need me to come over?” She had Brady there, but you’d go over immediately if she needed you.

“No, I’m good, but I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he looked away, but he didn’t let go of your hand. You knew it was hard since that was the very thing he wanted to hear from you. It was different though. He had to realize that.

You stared at the device once Addison ended the call. “An electrical fire.”

“You haven’t asked if it’s me,” he said, turning back toward you. 

“Because it wasn’t you.” He let out a breath at your words. “Even if you’re jealous of my bond with her, you wouldn’t do that.”

He closed the distance, kissing you deeply, a wordless thank you for not blaming him. “Yeah, I’m jealous because I want to hear you say you love me. And I know you don’t love her or anyone else romantically. I’m just… still feeling a little selfish.”

“Love is meant to thrive and go through us, remember? And I haven’t said the words yet, but these little moments and interactions…” You trailed off, letting him fill in the blanks.

“They’re a form of love,” he whispered. “I’m still going to have the fire looked into.”

“I hope it was just a terrible accident,” you said, but you knew he didn’t believe in coincidences in his world.

His eyes lit up unexpectedly. “You said you wanted to pay Natasha a visit, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, why?”

He fed you the last bite of the omelette with a smile, not letting it go to waste. “Because the Red Room might be the perfect venue for the wedding and reception.”

You sat back in shock while he made a call, his tone shifting to that commanding cadence reserved for business. Addison’s wedding at the Red Room? A place still connected to Bucky in some form? It would be beautiful, and everyone would be thankful. Everyone would believe more and more that Bucky was the perfect man for you.

And maybe he was.

Poor Addison. Coincidence or something more? How will Natasha react to the suggestion? And how do we feel about the morning after? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️