#haz writes

Breathing in....breathing out...Calm. You take another breath trough your nose, keeping your troath relaxed and your head tilted back as you kneel in front of him, a pillow under your knees and your arms around his waist, your head is in his lap as he's idly petting your hair. The scene could almost look wholsome to someone not paying attention...

If not for the the massive dick Guzma has shoved down your troath.

You don't remember how your session started today, kneeling in front of his “throne” while he's idly scrolling away on his phone, not even paying that much attention to you anymore. Sometimes when he would find something interesting he would turn his phone around and show it to you, maybe ask you a question you could either answer with an affirmative or denying grunt around his cock, but he never pulled out to give you the chance to speak up. Currently your mouth was just a soft little hole that kept his dick warm and wet.

You shift slightly, one of your legs is falling asleep, and as you pull back a little your troath decides to act up for a second. You pull yourself of your boyfriends dick as fast as you can before the coughing fit wrecks your entire body.

You feel a hand on your cheek tilting you up slightly.

"Ya good?"

A few more weak coughs leave your body before you are ready to speak again.

“Ye-yeah. Just... One second."

Guzma cocks an eyebrow at you but makes no further moves to dissuade or persuade you from getting his dick back in your mouth and after a few deep breaths you feel clearheaded again.

You wipe some spit from your chin

"I'm good...Slowly tough."

You get a nod in return

“Aight. Then get back to it."

Guzma readjusts himself before one hand grabs his cock by the base again.

A sadistic little giggle escapes him as he guides the tip to your lips.

“Say Aaaaaa~"

You relax yourself once again and open wide, slowly letting him push you down onto his dick till your nose bumps against his pelvis. "Thhheeere ya go. Right back where ya belong."

You make a little noise of agreement that makes him shiver for a split second before he gets back to his phone.

Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in... Breathing out.... Calm....

At least till you hear the noise of a camera clicking above you. You open your eyes and look up. Guzma has his phone angled towards you, his head leaning against his other hand and his expression unbelievably smug.

"Wha? Surprised?"

Not much, no.

"Just felt like... Capturing the moment..." Another snap and you can feel your face heat up.

“Wanna show you how cute you look with a fat dick in your mouth."

His tone is equally as appreciative as it is condescending. Guzma LOVES when he gets to tease you till you can't take it anymore.

You close your eyes again, it makes it just a little bit easier to not immediately turn into a sputtering mess, but it seems like a spark of inspiration has hit Guzma now.

"... Pull off for a bit will you?"

You do as he says, curious to see where this is going. He shifts in his seat and fumbles with his phone, grabbing his dick and prodding your lips again.

“Go on, give it a kiss"

You press a little kiss to the head of his dick as you hear another snap. Then another. You know your boyfriend has... Not really a talent for taking good pictures so it's good that he tries to get various angles you think to yourself before peppering more kisses to the underside of his cock.

“Yeah, yeah keep going."

It seems like your cockwarming session has been cancelled in favor of an impromptu photo shooting, not that you mind terribly.

“Fuuuuck yeah."

Apperantly satisfied with the shots he's gotten Guzma shifts again.

“Now get back to suckin it all sweet like..."

You give his head one quick kiss again before opening your lips, taking him as deeply as you can once more while setting a slow, lazy rythmn.

Guzmas breath hitches for a second before he takes another pic.

“Fuuuuhuck me babe... Dang you should see yourself right now. Nice n sloppy just how ya boy likes it..."

You catch his eyes for a second and you can see he is already loosing his cool. Guzma loves to make you wait for it, loves to have you be good and obedient sitting on your knees with his dick in your mouth for a while only to make you beg for it later, but he is not a man of high self restraint and today it seems like he's loosing the battle.

You push yourself as far as you can once more, till your nose is flush against his groin. Guzma almost drops his phone and makes a choked up noise of pleasure above you, that soon gives way to a full out groan when you push yourself even further and let your tongue snake out for a second give a quick lick to his balls, just before you pull yourself off again for a quick gulp of air, only for his other hand to grab the back of your head and gently guide you back to his dick again.

It doesn't take long before his breathing starts to turn shallow and he guides you to go faster, your attempts at swirling your tongue around his dick rapidly declining as you instead focus on keeping your mouth open and relaxed so he can fuck your face better. Most of your sessions end like this, him becoming more and more desperate and almost humping your face as he chases his high. You brace yourself when his trusts turn slower and more powerful, waiting for him to shove himself as deep as he can before he cums inside of you, which is why it surprises you when you feel his cock slip out of your mouth and he is tilting your head back so he can look you in the eyes

"Can-Can I?"

You don't even bother to answer him properly, instead just opening your mouth for him and closing your eyes, awaiting what you know is coming. Your boyfriend let's out an utterly pathetic and strangled

“Fuuuuuuhuuuck" before you feel the warm strings of cum coating your face, followed by several rapid fire sounds of the phone's camera going off.

You keep your eyes closed as he roughly grabs your face, tilting it from side to side and taking a few more quick snaps.

".....Fuuuuck."

He concludes and you open your eyes again. Guzma is still breathing heavy, his hair is sticking to the sweat on his forehead and his eyes look glazed over. His troath sounds dry when he speaks again.

"... How are ya actually real?"

he whispers hoarsely

“How are ya actually here and not some fucking amazingass wet dream I am having? Fuuuck ..."

He lets out a breathless laugh as he helps you get up from your position on the floor. Your knees hurt and your left foot has fallen asleep, yet you feel absolutely great.

He motions you to sit down on his lap and grabs a relatively clean shirt from the floor. You wipe the cum of your face as best as you can but you know you are both gonna need a shower soon. After you're done you grab the soft drink bottle he keeps on his table at all times and down half the thing in four big swigs to soothe your poor overworked troath before handing it to Guzma, who unceremoniously downs the rest before dropping it on the floor.

He clears his troath a last time before lifting his phone.

~~~~~~

Lucien’s life had been chaotic lately, but still, he hadn't quite expected this to happen, of all things.

Elain had finally said she didn't want this bond between them. He knew it was going to happen and he couldn't exactly blame her. Having it related to a traumatic experience wasn't going to be something positive, and no matter what the Cauldron thought of them matching each other, accepting the bond wouldn't have made them happy. She had the Spymaster for that, and Lucien was grateful to see how much she’d healed since seeing her as skin and bones in the library of the House of Wind. Azriel helped her and loved her; it wasn’t something predestined or whatever other shit people liked to talk about. They had chosen it for themselves, and Lucien couldn’t fault them for being happy.

Then came one of the biggest bombshells of his life.

Beron was not his father.

Though he had found out several months ago, it was still fresh in his mind, as though it were yesterday that he had been told.

Lucien still didn’t understand what he was doing in the River House. Rhysand had turned up in the human lands this morning to get him. When he’d asked why, the bastard just smiled at him. Lucien had honestly thought that the male might have been taking him to his death. But then he winnowed them into an office, Feyre sitting in the window, little Nyx in her arms and a content smile on her face. Now it was a few hours later, Nesta had been and gone, collecting her nephew for his nap, and still, he didn’t know why they had brought him here.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on now, or do I have to wait several more hours?” Rhys was just smiling from where he sat on his chair, wings hidden and humming, making Lucien roll his eyes. Feyre came to sit next to her mate, giving him a reprimanding look. She gave Lucien a soft smile.

“Just a little longer, I promise.” Feyre had barely even finished the sentence when there was a knock on the door. “There we go.” She stood, smoothing the skirts of her dress before walking towards the door, trailing light fingers over Rhys’ shoulder as she went. When she pulled the door open, Lucien could honestly say he was shocked to see that it was Helion on the other side, led by Cassian.

“Your guest, dearest sister. Please, take him.” Helion let out a low chuckle behind the general. He placed a hand over his heart, faking pain when Cassian turned to look at him.

“You wound me. Why so hasty to get rid of me?”

“If you keep looking at time the way you are, I will not be held responsible for what Nesta does to you in a jealous rage.” Helion’s retort was cut off when the female in question shouted from somewhere else in the house.

“You can take him! He’s been a pesky annoyance as of late.” Cassian disappeared then, grumbling about how she didn’t mean that, he was never annoying and Nesta was madly in love with him. Which was true,-the madly in love part, not Cassian not being annoying- anyone could see it. Lucien would never tell her about the doe eyed look she got though. He valued actually being alive.

Helion laughed again, bending down to kiss Feyre on one cheek and then the other.

“Feyre, you look as lovely as you always do. Motherhood suits you.”

“That I agree with entirely.” Rhys said as his mate welcomed the newcomer into the room, closing the door gently behind them.

“I’ve told you Rhysand, no more babes until Nyx is older.” The male nodded in agreement, though Lucien thought they were going to be having this discussion a lot in the near future. She smacked him over the back of the head when he smirked, before sitting once more. He had a feeling they were talking to each other in secret again. “Have you made it so no one can hear us?” She asked when they were all settled. Helion now sat in the chair next to him, giving him a nod, Feyre sitting on the arm of Rhysand’s seat. The High Lord of the Night Court gave a dip of his head. “Warded the moment you closed the door, my love.”

“Good. Now, onto what we brought the both of you here for.”

Helion crossed an ankle over the other knee, hands linked where they rested in his lap. The High Lord of Day was dressed in a mix of gold and black. Gold fabric covered his body. One side of his chest left bare, clothing pinned at the other, flowing down his body, belted at the skirt. It was embroidered around the hem with reds and greens, and it seemed to shimmer like glitter under moonlight. Sandals wrapped around the dark skin of his calves. “Forgive me for asking, but why such secrecy? Can you not trust your own family?”

Lucien didn’t understand why they were being so careful all of a sudden, either. Any time he’d been in here, discussing all the problems they were still trying to overcome from the war with Hybern, they’d never stopped the others inside the house from being able to hear too. Rhys tilted his head slightly to the side. “The information will leave this room when you do, and you will do with it as you see fit.”

Lucien spoke then, frustrated. “You brought me here hours ago, told me absolutely nothing on why I had to come. Just tell us what’s going on.” Rhys raised a dark brow at him, but said nothing, so he turned to Feyre. She sighed, wringing her hands together before stopping herself. It was one of her nervous traits, and nervous traits accompanied by serious conversations never boded well.

“Back when we were trying to get the High Lords to work together, to help us against Hybern, you told us a story about Lucien’s mother, Helion.”

“Yes, I did.” Lucien hadn’t known that. But he supposed looking for Myriam and Drakon meant he wasn’t privy to a lot of information. There were things from the time he was gone that he was still learning about.

“Including the affair that you had.” Lucien sucked in a sharp breath, slowly looking at the male seated beside him. Beron was not nice to his mother, he knew that. But the man had spies everywhere, always had. He would have had to have known about his mother being with Helion. And if he knew, he would have had her killed for it.

“But my mother lives. My father wouldn’t have allowed her to live after he’d found out. And trust me he knows, he always knows when his family isn’t doing exactly what he wants them to.” Beron would have wanted to set an example, a vicious one at that. He showed that with what happened to Jessminda. Thinking of her only made Lucien think fondly of their good memories together now. He was no longer attacked by grief and self hatred, though waves of sadness would come and go. On the bad days, the storm in his head made them rough and dangerous, but those were few and far between.

Feyre started to look uncomfortable, causing Rhys to continue. “To have killed her, would have caused a scandal. He was younger then, and it wouldn’t have done him any good.”

Lucien still didn’t understand and it was starting to piss him off. His fire tempted its boundaries, flames growing hotter and higher in his frustration. It felt as if it were boiling his blood, heating his skin. He pushed it down into the depths where it belonged. “The only scandal is that she wasn’t faithful. The gods know he fucking hasn’t been. But then again it was always ‘do as I say and not as I do’ with him anyway.” Feyre simply shook her head at him. He opened his mouth to say something, to say how pointless this meeting was if they weren’t going to get to the point, when Helion suddenly sucked in a sharp breath from beside him. Lucien startled slightly.

“Mother above.” He breathed. “He can’t be. No, you’re lying, I don’t believe you.” Helion just stared at Lucien when he turned to him, amber eyes wide, mouth partly open.

“I’m not lying, Helion. I figured it out that day, and I’ve also had his mother confirm, but do not ask me how. You can see why Beron hated him the most now.” Lucien was severely done with them taking but still not explaining anything to him.

“Confirm what! What are you fucking talking about?” Rhysand looked at him, not even phased by his outburst.

“Beron is not your father, Lucien.” No. No. They were lying. When he looked at Feyre, when he looked at his friend, she gave him a small nod. He looked back at the male beside him, the male who seemed to be shocked into silence by the situation.

As if Lucien’s life couldn’t get anymore fucked.

It had been months since that day. Feyre told them again that she wouldn’t say how she’d been in contact with his mother, and Lucien didn’t want her to tell him anything anyway, no matter how much he wished to find out so he could see how she was. To talk to her himself. It would put her at risk, and Lucien wouldn’t allow that. And he knew now that Helion wouldn’t either. His father. The High Lord of Day was his father. Lucien was the sole heir to the Day Court. Helion had been nothing but welcoming in the time sincerely but he never pushed. Said that it didn’t have to mean anything, if it wasn’t what he wanted. Lucien had been a little confused with his wants at first, but had decided that he wanted them to acknowledge it. Wanted them to get to know each other.

Helion asked him a few weeks ago to stay with him. They didn’t have to be in the same building, that Lucien could stay wherever he liked in the Day Court, but he did want him to stay. Lucien had found he couldn’t refuse. Jurian and Vassa had been angry with him, saying that he was just abandoning them, that clearly he’d only used them. He had tried to explain that he’d just found the one who had actually fathered him. That he wanted them to have some kind of relationship, something that was robbed from the both of them. The two wouldn’t hear it, and told him to leave. So he went. They had each been closer to each other than they ever had with Lucien anyway.

That was how he was here now, standing in the garden of the small townhouse his father had found for him, the male in question standing across from him. Helion was standing in the early morning rays, arms at his sides, golden crown absent and spouting words Lucien never thought he’d hear in his life. “You want to do what?” Lucien said, still wondering if this was something that was actually happening. Helion sighed, rubbing both hands over his face for a moment, before pulling them away.

“I know that it’s not even been that long since we’ve found out the truth. And I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, but I think this could be the biggest step towards allying the courts together.” Lucien could see the frustration on his face, knowing that he struggled to ask this.

“You want me to marry the High Lord of Summer?”

“Yes.”

“Does he know that you want to do this?” Helion moved closer to him a little.

“I proposed a marriage alliance to Tarquin, but I didn’t say who. He agreed after a lengthy discussion, but only if who I chose wanted it. You know I haven’t formally announced that you are my son yet, and this would mean I’d have to.” Lucien folded his arms across his chest, suddenly self conscious.

“And you don’t want to announce it?”

“No.” Lucien stopped, hands tightening where they rested on his biceps. Helion, suddenly realising what he’d said, scrambled to backtrack. “Gods, I meant yes. Yes I want to tell them all I have a son. I just weren’t sure if you were ready for that.” His father let out an unsteady breath, meeting Lucien’s eyes for a second before looking away, only two repeat that over and over. “You don’t have to do this, but having my son marrying into another court makes the alliance stronger than if I were to pick out anyone else.” Lucien understood. And he understood wanting all of the courts to get along. It would mean they could truly live in peace, something they had all hoped for.

“I’ll do it.” Helion’s head shot up, disbelief written across his face.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I really thought you were going to say no, probably yell at me or something.” Lucien’s brows furrowed, a red lock of hair falling in front of his face.

“Why would I do that?” Helion sighed, almost exasperated. Though Lucien noticed he didn’t hold tension in his shoulders anymore, seemed more relaxed and at ease now that Lucien had answered him.

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was using you. Also, I didn’t even ask. Do you like males? That should have been a question right? I mean, I just assumed, I shouldn’t have.” His father was rambling, and Lucien chuckled.

“Yes, I like males. And Tarquin is a good male, a good High Lord. It might not end in love but, I might get a friendship out of it.” Lucien smiled, a full grin, teeth showing. It was something he realised he hadn’t done in a long, long time. Suddenly the breath was sucked out of him, and strong arms wrapped around his body. It took a moment, but Lucien returned the gesture, hugging him back. Helion was taller than him, and nearly pulled him off of his feet.

“I’m sorry. Sorry for asking. I should have found another way.”

“It’s alright. I think this might be good for me. I had Tamlin and we both know how that ended. I didn’t fit, at the Night Court, not like they do. And Jurian and Vassa...well, I told you what happened. Maybe I’ll find a home with Tarquin.” Helion pulled back, holding his shoulders, a soft smile on his face.

“You may not think it, but you fit here. I never got to be there before, and part of me is glad because the not knowing kept you and your mother safe, but I’m here now. I want to be your father.”

“Thank you.” They decided to continue walking through the garden then. Mostly in companionable silence, occasionally asking the odd question here and there. Lucien was getting lost in his own thoughts. He wondered whether Tarquin would be okay that it was Lucien he was marrying. If they’d be able to make some kind of happy life together. The few times he’d seen him before, Lucien could admit he was attracted to him. It was easy to make conversation with Tarquin, to find common interests. There was the chance it would never turn romantic and Lucien would be okay with that, but at least he’d have a companion to live his life with.

Maybe this was his chance to get his own happy ending.

~~~~~~

Well there it is. The beginning. You’ll see Tarquin next time I promise but I just wanted to give you something to see if you were going to like the story or not. Please be respectful, I’m tired of the ship wars. I want this to be a safe place for me to post the ideas that I have.

His metal fingers hold your throat firmly - not enough to hurt, but enough to stop you from squirming out his grasp.

“Do you like it, doll?” He whispers softly in your ear, “I got it just for you.”

You can’t help but stare into the mirror at the foot of the bed.

You’re on his lap, his chest pressed flush to your back, cock buried deep inside you but not moving, just pulsing within your walls, enough to make you feral with desire.

“Go on, tell me you like it,” he pushes, tightening his grip slightly. The sound of the vibranium whirring cuts through the night air like a blade, making your heart thump and your walls clench.

You can barely get the words out, but you don’t want to be bad for Bucky. You are his good girl after all.

“I like- fuck,” his flesh hand grips your waist and starts to lift you gently from his lap before crashing you back down on his thick length, making you feel every vein, every ridge. It’s maddening.

“Yes, doll?” You don’t need to look in the mirror to know he’s smirking ear to ear, but you do anyway, because god he’s so beautiful when he wrecks you like this.

“I like it Bucky, I fucking love it, please I love it, love you- Bucky love you so much!”

He’s fucking you in earnest now, hips snapping up as he pulls you down with precision.

“Say thank you baby,” he pants, “say thank you to your Sergeant for getting his pretty girl a pretty present.”

“Nngh- thank you Sarge, thank you for my present, thank you thankyouthankyou!”

You all but scream as his fingers press deeper into the soft lines of your throat, the pace of his cock impaling you staying brutal.

His right hand comes down to circle your clit gently, the contrast between his hips and his fingers making you see starts.

“You gonna be a good girl and take the rest of your present now?”

“Yes Bucky, fuck yes, please, please,” you cry out.

With just a few more thrusts you’re tipping over the edge, the pleasure overwhelming, writhing helplessly in his lap as he works you through your orgasm.

He’s just behind you, the feeling of your sweet pussy milking his cock is too much for him to handle and he’s pumping you full of his release, groaning in your ear like a wild animal.

Both of you are drenched in sweat, panting, completely gone and thoroughly ruined by the other.

It’s perfect.

After a moment, you feel his left hand release your neck and begin to rub soothing patterns along your jaw, the cool metal of his fingers a pleasant contrast to the heat of your body.

He looks at you straight in the mirror, taking in how disheveled you look. How much he’s destroyed you. How much he’s put you back together.

He carefully brushes a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in, his nose tickling your cheek and breath ghosting along your sweat soaked skin.

A soft blanket of snow had settled comfortably over campus, painting the grand old buildings in a layer of shimmering white. The floodlights from the walkways illuminated each crystal, casting an idealistic glow that looked almost romantic amongst the hustle and bustle of university life.

You moved carefully, your little heels crunching on the fresh snow, trying to keep your balance on the tricky patches of ice.

Once inside the English building, you brushed the snow from your outfit as best you could and made your way up the oak staircase, catching a few stray glances as you went. Sure, you weren't exactly dressed for the weather, but you thought it was a bit rude to stare (not that you could blame them particularly)!

Pushing your way past the last of the faculty leaving for the evening, you had one clear goal in mind: Professor Barnes' office. He liked staying late, getting his paperwork tied up before going home (probably to sip whisky in a study with dark mood lighting that shines gently off his metal arm, maybe a fire roaring in the corner, warming him up the way you wish you could if you just had the chance…).

Before your mind could wonder too much further, you stopped outside his office door, giving it three sharp knocks before you had a chance to think any better of it.

"Office hours are over," a deep voice came from the other side, tired and rough at the edges.

"I- I'm not here for office hours, sir. It's the Christmas candy cane drive," you managed to stutter out, hoping desperately he couldn't hear the tremor in your voice.

"The Christmas what now?" The voice behind the door sounded vaguely perplexed now and you dreaded having to stammer through your explanation again.

"The Christmas candy cane drive, sir, it's the campus-"

You stopped abruptly, face the picture of a deer in headlights as the door suddenly swung open.

"I didn't sign up for any Christmas candy…cane…thing…um…" Bucky's voice trailed off as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, cheeks red and rosy from the winter chill, tiny snowflakes melting in your hair, your eyes wide and sweet and the picture of innocence.

And then he looked down.

Patent red kitten heels housed white stockings that hiked up your legs, disappearing under the shorter-than-short hem of your Christmas getup - a velvety red dress with fluffy white trim, thin straps, and the lowest sweetheart neckline you could find that wasn't going to get you in trouble with campus security.

Clasped in your hands was a little hessian sack full of delicate, multicoloured candy canes, the hooks peeking out over the brim.

Silence stretched out between you both, neither able to make eye contact for more than a split second, and neither wanting to be the first to break the tension.

Eventually, Bucky was able to pick his jaw up from the floor. "You must be cold," he stated simply, eyes still not meeting yours.

"Uh yeah, a little I guess," you murmured, thankful that it was late enough for the corridor to be nice and empty as you stood before your professor.

He backed away from the door, holding it open wide enough for your to duck in under his arm as he swung it shut behind him.

"Sit," he motioned at the chair in front of his desk, which you gratefully took as your knees felt like they were about to give out. He leaned up against the varnished wood, brushing some papers aside.

"So…candy canes…" he prompted, facial expression not giving anything away.

"Uh, yes sir," you started before he lifted up his hand.

"Professor, not sir," he corrected, "you're in my class, you're not in an interrogation," he joked, a smirk gracing his lips.

"Oh right, sorry Professor," you twirled a candy cane absentmindedly in your hand as you continued to speak. "Well, the university wanted to raise some extra money, so they got volunteers for a candy cane drive."

Bucky nodded along slowly as you spoke, his tongue occasionally darting out to wet his quickly drying lips.

"I thought is wounded fun so I said I'd do the English faculty."

Bucky's eyes flicked to yours immediately, mouth opening in shock once again. "You'd do…the English faculty?"

"I- what I mean is- I said I'd cover the faculty, you know, asking if anyone wanted to buy some candy canes." You were sure your face matched the colour of your skimpy dress at this point, the heat from your cheeks cancelling out any left over cold from the outdoors.

"How generous of you," Bucky chuckled under his breath, scratching the silver of his beard.

"I just wanted to help - Christmas cheer and all that." With a slight burst of confidence you managed to meet his gaze for the first time since entering the room, surprised to see the hint of mischief in his icy blues.

"Well, you're certainly dressed the part," he mused, lowering his hand from his beard and gripping the table behind his back. "Was that outfit part of your little elf contract?"

"I'm not an elf!" You pouted, brow furrowing at his jab. "And the costume is mine, I thought it might boost sales," you admitted quietly.

"Oh really, that's not good business practice is it, little elf?"

"Stop calling me that, Professor," you grumbled, "I'm just trying to spread some cheer, no need to tease."

He took you in for a moment more before pushing off the table, hand reaching out to grab the candy cane you had been twirling. "So, how much is Santa chargin' for one of these nowadays?"

"£2.50."

"That's daylight robbery, he should be ashamed of himself." He took the cane anyway, peeling off the wrapper with his metal hand, fingers moving dexterously while you could do nothing but sit there and watch in awe.

Slowly, he brought the end of the cane to his lips, sucking it in pointedly. You all but combusted where you sat.

"Hmm, not sure on the flavour," he commented, taking the candy from his lips and staring at the tip.

"It's just peppermint," you countered.

"Try it."

What?

"Tell me what you think, I'm…curious."

This couldn't be happening, right?

You began to rustle in your little sack as you picked out another candy cane. Suddenly, Bucky's flesh hand came to rest on yours, stopping your movements.

"Gotta try this one, silly, otherwise how will you know?"

"Oh, yeah, right…" Placing the bag aside, your fingers reached out to take the candy cane from your professor, eyes locked with his the whole time.

Plucking it from his hands, you brought the end to your mouth, tongue poking out slightly to taste. "Tastes fine to me," you began, taking in Bucky's expression of raw, unadulterated lust. His pupils were blown completely wide, the blacks of his irises almost eclipsing the piercing blue.

Emboldened by how much he was enjoying the sight before him, you moved the cane to lick a long, thick stripe up the side. Rounding the tip again, you let your mouth fall open dramatically, hearing Bucky's breath hitch as his jaw ticked.

You fed the length of the stick into your mouth, pushing past your plush lips, sucking obscenely. Swirling your tongue around dramatically so that he would be sure to see, you hollowed out your cheeks before pulling the cane away with a loud pop.

"I dunno," you began. Bucky's grip on the table was like iron, seemingly moments away from losing his composure all together. "Tastes fine to me." Your wide smile gave away the pleasure you took from your teasing, unravelling your brooding professor before your very eyes.

"I'll take 10," he choked out.

"Thank you, Professor. How generous of you."

🪻dividers by saradika-graphics <3

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It started with movie night.

Wrapped in blankets and candlelight, the soft glow painting your features in angelic tones. You felt the shift under the covers as his metal fingers brushed against your knuckles, just the lightest of touches, wordlessly asking for permission.

Your fingers flexed before reaching out, curling around the tips of his fingers before intertwining your hands completely. Neither of you dared to look at the other for fear of breaking the spell, but Bucky could have sworn he felt a little lighter that evening.

It continued the following week.

The rubble seemed endless, the building collapsing brick by falling brick, cascading down upon you both.

Bucky didn't hesitate. He launched himself at you, tackling you to the ground with immeasurable force, shielding your body completely with his own. Debris continued to fall but his eyes never left yours, blue ocean tides carrying you out to sea, never faltering in their devotion to keeping you safe.

When the walls stopped shaking and the dust settled in the most literal sense, he pushed himself up from the ground, still staring at you all the while.

"You're safe, doll." It wasn't a question. "I promise, you're safe."

His arms stretched down to yours, pulling you up on uncertain legs.

"I had it handled," you rasped, voice cracking on an exhale of empty laughter.

"I just had to be sure," he responded, hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "I'd be lost without you, you know."

It was soft and sincere and whispered like it was meant just for him, but you heard it all the same.

Your hand was still gripped tightly in his warm palm, so much so you could feel his pulse thrumming through his body, the adrenaline hit only just starting wane.

The pad of his thumb traced the back of your knuckles, painting delicate patterns for you to feel, easing the tension from your body one pass at a time.

When the cleanup crew arrived, you were both halfway back to the team's rendezvous point, walking hand in hand all the way.

It ended here, naturally.

You were sprawled out on the bed, sweat beading at your temples, your breasts, your back. Bucky had you laid out like a man come to devour - and devour he did.

Your thighs squeezed his head while his tongue delved deeper, deeper. Feeling the soft pliancy of your walls, licking broad stripes through your folds before swirling your sensitive nub, suckling down your juices as if they were sweeter than honey.

But no matter how you squirmed - how you thrashed your head or jolted your hips or flexed your heels into the muscles of his back - Bucky never released your hand.

The fingers of his left hand, cooler and grounding, splayed out over your stomach, pressing gently against the soft flesh and anchoring you, both to the bed and to him.

By contrast, the fingers of his right hand tangled with those of your left, gripping tightly as if scared to ever let you go. Bucky knew all too well how fleeting moments of peace could be, how easily the things you love could be lost, and he certainly wasn't about to take that chance with you.

And when you came, back bowed and voice crying out, it was with one hand tangled in Bucky's hair and the other hand linked with his. Right where it would always be.

🪻dividers by saradika-graphics <3

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