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clare-875 · 2 months ago

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Distraction or Devotion (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairings: Roronoa Zoro x Female Reader Summary: You think your love is one-sided, but is it? Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Jealous Zoro, Soft Zoro, Alcohol A/N: Been obsessed with Zoro lately 😅 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

You were transfixed by him.

Roronoa Zoro.

He had found his way into your heart and had taken the undue liberty to consume all of its devotion. You didn't know how friendship had morphed so suddenly into the hopes of something more, but that was the predicament you found yourself in now.

What had started as general respect for the other had turned into sparing sessions, light bickering and laughter, drinking and confiding in the other. The days spent at sea spared you much time to get to know the green-haired swordsman, no matter how rigid he stood behind his walls. You chipped and chipped away at them until he let you in on small details, let you pull laughter from him and let you linger in his presence.

The bond you both shared was built on loyalty and an undying trust forged through time and trial. You knew to him, you were a rare individual: one he trusts, one he protects, a comrade and a friend. But to you, the more you chipped away at his walls, the more you got to know the man, stoic and strong and silent, the more he crashed through your own borders and delved straight into your heart.

To you, he was everything, but everything you were so sure you could not have.

"Oi, [y/n], you're zoning out again."

Your eyes snap upwards, and you are met with the sight of Zoro, his sharp eyes on you as he lifts an ungodly amount of weight back and forth over his head, mimicking the movements of his swords. Both of you were out on deck, the only crewmembers that lingered outdoors apart from Luffy, who was somewhere on the figurehead.

"I'm sorry, were you desperate for my attention?"

You tease as you go back to the duty of polishing his swords, a frequent task you found yourself undertaking, but one you did not take lightly. You knew how much Zoro treasured his swords, how much worth was forged upon their blades. They lay heavy in your hands: heavy with responsibility and the weight of Zoro's trust. You didn't know of anyone else he would allow to even breathe near his swords, let alone touch them.

The thought of that made your heart warm.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on your training?"

"Tch, whatever woman, I only said something cause you looked like you were about to fall asleep on the blade. Next time I'll just watch it happen."

You roll your eyes, but a smile lingers on your face as your eyes meet his. The sun had fallen, just mingling with the ocean as it delved deeper into the Earth, bringing forth warm lights that traced the muscles on Zoro's skin. His irises swim in the fervour of the lights, and you swear you see something deep within as he abruptly breaks away from your gaze, the pink on his cheeks surely from his workout and nothing more.

Nothing more, right?

There is more silence as Zoro shifts his focus to his weights once more, the rhythm of his training the only sound that touches the cooling air, until you decide to break the quiet.

"Hey, Zoro..."

You murmur, eyes locked on the blade carefully placed in your lap and the cloth that delicately traces it until you see your own unwavering reflection.

"Yeah?" Zoro grunts as he brings down the weights towards the deck.

"Have you ever thought about love before?"

There is abruptly the seizing of movement, but when your eyes travel upwards again to meet his, he merely looks at you incredulously.

"What kind of question is that?"

You grin at his expression, but continue on, nonchalantly, despite the way your heart pounds against your chest at your own boldness.

"Oh, come on, Zoro. You've never been tempted? I can't count on my hands the number of times women have literally fallen at your feet. Beautiful women, too good for you, of course, but nonetheless."

A beat of silence, and he answers.

"Nope, never thought about it."

His words are blunt, and he continues his training as though nothing was said. You can't deny the slight disappointment that filled you at his abrupt words. But you decide to push a bit more. You want to know more, more of what he thought about you. If you had a chance, if another claimed his heart, if his words were true.

"Really? What about Tashigi? She even knows her way around a sword, you know-"

"Nope."

"Perona? You guys literally spent two years together-"

"So? Still no."

"Hiyori? You two seemed all cosied up-"

"No."

You roll your eyes, unsure as to why your heart starts to feel heavy even as he rejects women you were so sure he could sweep off their feet. Maybe it was the lack of interest in the topic of relationships. Maybe it was the voice in the back of your mind mocking your hopes that he would turn around and say he would choose you instead.

"Nami, Robin??"

You ask, a teasing tone in your words despite the smile that strains on your cheeks.

"What? No way, they're crewmates-"

"You've actually never been tempted? They're literally all so perfect."

You sit in slight disbelief, analysing his expression, but his gaze does not falter, and he reveals nothing. If anything, you witness the tightening of his jaw as he moves to a silent rhythm. You wonder if you have pushed the topic too far.

"It's nothing against them, I have a responsibility and a goal. To become the world's strongest swordsman and to see Luffy become the pirate king. I don't have time for distractions."

His words are blunt to you as they are confirming. You allow the silence to consume the space between the two of you for a moment longer, and yet your heart twists unbearably.

He doesn't have time for distractions.

Of course, he doesn't.

You had witnessed more than anyone the way he trained from daybreak to sundown, every minute for the dream he held, and in support of Luffy's ambitions. What time could he spare for relationships, for women? He already had so much on his mind, so much responsibility on his back. And yet, a question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.

"Not even time for me?"

You whisper, but Zoro misses your words, his eyes trained on his weights, the crease between his brows a show of his concentration, but the glint in his eyes, one that unravels frustration.

Why? Maybe this conversation was one he did not wish to partake in.

"Did you say something?"

Zoro's words touch the air once more, as sunlight travels his face until it lies static as he meets your gaze again.

"Nothing," you say, more dejected than anything else, despite knowing you should feel unsurprised. You watch as he continues his workout, the air solemn as you let out a quiet sigh, unsure why your heart feels so heavy despite a lack of rejection.

You supposed it was the lack of recognition that had done it.

In-tune crew members had already witnessed your gravitation towards the swordsman, but it was clear to you that your affections were not recognised, nor could they be considered anything beyond friendship by Zoro. Though stupidly relieved to know that he did not have a favourite among the women you listed, you felt stupid in your hopes that maybe, just maybe, you were his favourite.

That he recognised that the way you polish his swords as you do now wasn't out of mere generosity but deep-rooted admiration and care. The way you saved a seat for him beside you at dinner wasn't out of mere friendship but out of hope to get to know him more. The way you seek him out and spend hours by his side, even when there is nothing to be said, was from a yearning to be beside him for as long as he would let you be.

You loved him.

Roronoa Zoro.

Loved the way he would smirk when he teased you to the point where you were sure to combust. Loved the way he is so protective of crewmates in battles, his strength and loyalty unmatched. You loved the way he was so unwavering in his values, so predictable in the best of ways. Loved the way that he cared and was kind, no matter how hard he tried to keep up the tough-guy facade. You loved the quiet moments stolen with him, the way his eyes would soften in the presence of you and the presence of crewmates, the faint smile he bears when he has had too much to drink.

Loved the way he would listen quietly.

Loved the way he ruffled your hair.

Loved the way he searched for you after battles.

You loved him.

But as you watch his devotion to his swords, to Luffy and to his crew. Deep down, you had resigned yourself to knowing that you could never be anything more than a friend. No princess, swordswoman or model could turn his head. How could you?

What did you offer that they didn't?

Emotion fills you suddenly, but you force it away, scolding yourself and quickly finishing off the last of your task. Zoro releases his hold on his weights, stretching lightly as he readies another workout, but he is surprised as you stand and go to walk away.

"Hey, you okay?"

He asks, and you hate the way your heart lurches at his concern, the way you can feel his eyes burning into your back.

"Yeah, I just promised Sanji I'd help him for dinner, I'll see you later!"

Your words are as cheerful as you forced them to be, wandering towards the kitchen unseeingly. You don't see the way Zoro's brows furrow in his confusion, the twitching of his hands as though he wants to stop you and ask why you would indulge in the cook's company over his own. But he merely nods and continues his training.

You merely walk away.

.....

A week has passed, and you didn't know what you were doing.

Were you moving on? But from what exactly?

Exploring other opportunities? Maybe, but why?

You weren't rejected.

Didn't have the hammer beat down on your budding devotion to the swordsman. You were just provided an unspoken resignation by his words.

"I don't have time for distractions."

Like, ever? Was that long-term, short-term, or were you even a card in his hands that he would play?

You were confused and downtrodden, but you were also tired.

One-sided love.

So focused on possibilities and what-ifs, you had forgotten how exhausting it can be. How burdenous longing can be. How the dichotomy of your mind and of your heart can feel like you're being torn in two. Was that dramatic? Maybe a tad. But you now realise how long you have loved Zoro, the years you spent by his side. How can you teach yourself to let go, even a little bit, to seek distance so that if he does choose to reject you in the future, you are not utterly shattered?

You hate that you still hope.

Hope that because you had not named yourself, and because he had not rejected you, that you still had a chance, even if it was years down the line. You grit your teeth as you take a rough swing of your beverage, alcohol burning as you force it down your throat, trying to quieten your mind, trying to forget your feelings.

"Hey, slow down, it's not water, you know?"

And there it is, the provocative tone in his words. The glint of amusement in his sharp eyes as he catches your gaze. The swordsman laughs at your distasteful expression as he downs his second bottle of the night.

"I know that, but do you? You're downing that like it's nothing."

You ask incredulously, deadpanning at the way liquid disappears from bottles. He smirks, much more at ease next to you and with his sake, though he couldn't let you know that. Couldn't let you see how you have him so wrapped around your finger. Couldn't let you know that the smile you bear had him fighting to remain nonchalant, to remain strong in the face of temptation. The temptation in your lips, in your gaze, in you.

"I know, but I can handle it."

You roll your eyes at that.

He notices, but you turn away quickly, hiding your gaze in the dim light of the bar the two of you found yourselves in. Zoro can hear his Captain laughing with a stranger, can hear the love-lorn cook as he talks to Nami and Robin, can hear Brook chatting with the musicians in the bar, and yet he finds himself next to you. He always finds himself next to you. Always you he looks for after battles, always you he sits by when he naps, always you who lingers when he works out, always you he celebrates with, always you.

He wonders why you have been acting strangely this week.

Recently, it hadn't been you who lingered, or you he sits beside. You hadn't been saving the seats you usually do for him, with your bright eyes and wide smile. More often, you had been absent as he worked out, left wondering why the empty space you usually sat in was left cold and dull without you. More often had he taken notice of the unspoken things you do - reminding him of dinner, polishing his swords, filling the quiet in between - disappearing. He wondered if he had taken you for granted.

Even now, as he sits next to you, the closest he has been for days. You are quieter, more sullen, more lost in your mind. The heart in his chest that he didn't know could fluctuate in the face of another, missed you. God dammit, he missed you. And he didn't know what he had done wrong.

You take a glance to your side, only to see that Zoro was now lost in his head, drinking from bottles, with thoughts behind his eyes. You are about to ask what burdens him, but your pursuit is interrupted by that of another.

"Excuse me, love? Can I buy you a drink?"

Your gaze snaps upwards when you meet the eyes of a stranger who has approached your side without your notice. He hadn't been the first to approach you tonight; in fact, you were used to men approaching you with hope and admiration and lust twisting in their irises. It had been so easy before to brush them off in favour of Zoro's company, so easy to say no. But you find yourself considering the offer. Zoro is still distracted by a thought you cannot see, and this man was charming and attractive.

What harm was there really?

"Okay," you say, your words more unsure than you hoped they would be, but the man does not care nor seem to notice, all too pleased to have you on his arm. That is, until you feel a sharp tug on your other hand that lies limp to your side. Your gaze snaps to your left, and you are met with sharp eyes you have memorised all too well.

"Oi, where are you going?"

Zoro's voice is low, protective, his hand lingering on his swords. But his irises betray confusion, and was that hurt that lingered on the crescent edges? Zoro's insides twist uncomfortably at the sight of your hand on another man's arm.

You never indulged in the company of such men; why now?

"I'm just getting a drink, Zoro."

You say confusedly, missing the smirk on the man beside you, missing the tension in Zoro's jaw as he meets his cocky gaze. You feel Zoro's fingers twitch against your skin, his grip not painful but sure against your skin. He didn't want to let you go. But you were now confused.

Why was he acting this way?

But before you can say anything, Zoro lets you go silently, and the man next to you takes you to the bar for a drink.

.....

When you make your way to the Sunny, the sun has touched the horizon, leaking light onto the earth.

Your eyes were trained on the pavement, steps slow and deliberate, but your mind was churning. Along the way, you had seen crewmembers sprawled together on the streets and in bars, but paid them no mind, knowing it was merely a symbol of them having had a good night. Happy to see them indulge in an evening of laughter, drinks and food and each other. You hadn't expected to be out so long, but you found the need to wander a little.

The man who had taken you to the bar was okay at first, that is, until you saw the lust that travelled his features, move to his hands. He had mocked your crew and Zoro in his drunkenness. Had earned himself a good slap to the face and your swift absence, only for you to find that Zoro had left the bar already. You had only been gone for an hour at most, but following everything you had walked the length of the island several times, leading to the sun rising, signalling the beginning of another day.

You travel up the steps and onto the deck, expecting silence, expecting nothing. But you are surprised to see the swordsman, your mind had lingered all night on - had lingered years on - sat looking to the horizon with a pile of bottles scattered around him. Your heart picks up pace quickly, both in concern at the sight of him so adrift he does not notice you and of the devotion you still try to bury. Approaching hesitantly, you are met with the strong scent of alcohol, a sign that he has drunk too much, despite himself.

"Zoro?"

You murmur, nudging his shoulder gently, unsure of his reaction. He turns to you slowly, eyes masked in rare emotion, bottle clunking onto the deck from his grasp, spilling its contents. You furrow your brows, but his voice is low as he speaks to you, avoiding your gaze once more.

"How was he?"

You are taken aback, shocked that despite his inhibited state, that is what he suggests to you. Though you suppose that is what conclusion you would come to if Zoro disappeared with a woman, only to return to the Sunny in the daybreak.

"What's it to you?"

You ask lightly, watching the way his grip tightens on his own skin, sharp eyes on yours as he watches you closely. He is about to bite back until he watches you sigh and pick up the bottles that have been scattered and some shattered, cleaning the mess he has made. He meets your eyes that are on his, and he sees the concern you bear. His heart twists painfully against his chest as he pictures you with the man he left you with.

You.

You were meant to be his.

You were his angel, the one he protects, the one he looks to in quiet moments and laughs with in the confines of the other. He was meant to be the one you adored, the one who came first, the one you sought out. He was the one you were meant to nudge teasingly and drink with and celebrate wins and comfort losses with. He was the one you were meant to grace your presence with. Not some leechy stranger, not some unworthy man he can only now picture in your bed, in your arms, in your heart.

"I asked first." He says, voice quiet, tone low, eyes adrift again.

You smile half-heartedly at his stubbornness, but as you brush away bottles and put them away, you let the silence linger for a while. Once you are done you sit by his side, Zoro hates the way his heart spikes just by your warmth, you hate the way your heart does the same.

"He was an asshole."

You say, feeling Zoro's gaze meet the side of your face as your voice touches the air, but you do not turn yet, admiring the sun as it rises higher. "Wanted me in his bed long before our first drink, talked shit about me, talked shit about our crew..." You feel as Zoro tenses at your words, and that is when you meet his gaze, his eyes widening at your gentle smile, at your adoring eyes, at your proximity.

"... talked shit about you."

You grin as you see his eyebrows twitch, but you don't move, overindulgent in his presence. Yes, you might not be his, not now or ever, but you would take what you got, even if it was the show of his protectiveness from time to time. But to Zoro, he was fighting so hard not to allow his hands to travel to yours, to spill the words he constrained. You turn away quickly before you get too lost in his gaze, though he is already too far gone in yours.

"That was the last straw, you know," you grin teasingly at the sun, "had to give him a good slap to the face to bring him back to reality, then wandered around the island for a good few hours because somebody decided to leave early."

Zoro's gaze widens a fraction of a millimetre, but you do not catch it, yours still to the sky. You don't notice how his chest loses the tightness that had plagued him the whole night. The way he had used the alcohol he usually loved to force an escape from thoughts of you and the man he had regretfully left you with. He couldn't handle it, the thought, the sight of you with another. Couldn't handle another day where you continued to place distance between the two of you.

Then it comes to Zoro so clearly, after so long in despair.

He loved you.

He can't let you go.

There is a warmth on your hand, and it takes you a while to realise that it is Zoro's hand over yours, hesitant, hovering. Your eyes snap to his so fast, he is almost taken aback. He fights the blush on his cheeks as he lowers his calloused hands onto yours, pulling warmth to your own face.

"Zoro?" Your words are hesitant, but his are blunt and unwavering.

"Don't do that again, woman," he says, voice even, eyes far from yours. Two beats pass in silence until his voice reaches the air again, in turn, rendering you temporarily speechless.

"I think I like you."

There is no teasing in his words, no underlying joke. He is vulnerable under your gaze, touch faltering on skin, uncertainty clouding his mind. But to you, a wave of shock travels through your system, and you can't help but let out a yell of surprise.

"What?!"

Zoro winces as he squeezes his eyes shut, not used to the effects of too much alcohol.

"Damn woman, do you have to be so loud?"

You hurriedly silence, before returning to your spot next to him, mind buzzing. Is this a dream? Did you hear correctly? Have you gone and lost your mind? You quickly come to your senses, gathering thoughts that have scattered, until one question clouds your mind.

"But I thought- I thought you said you didn't have time for distractions?"

Zoro pauses, his mind travelling to the conversation the two of you had a week ago. A week ago, when you named women, he could never have considered that way. The frustration he felt when it sounded like you were writing yourself off the list of options, forcing people onto him when all he wanted was you. Was that why you put distance between the two of you? Was that the question that plagued your mind? Was that what you thought?

You hear him sigh, but he pulls you into his side, still a mixture of drunkenness dictating his movements.

"You're not a distraction, just another focus, a vulnerability maybe, that I choose to have," he smirks slightly at your surprise spilling into your stare. "But you're mine, or I want you to be."

Silence touches the air, but Zoro takes comfort in knowing that you have not moved from where you sat, have not moved from his touch, have not wilted under his vulnerable words. In a movement, he feels your hands touch his face, a shine to your gaze that has him blushing to his ears. A hammering against his chest like he has never known.

"I want to be yours."

And somehow, that was all he wanted to hear.

His lips touch yours, in a mix of warmth, of roughness and of the taste of too many drinks. But you feel his hands, strong, secure against your skin, pulling you closer. Your mind is a haze as he moves, still tipsy off of alcohol, still stumbling with nerves, but lost in the place you have wanted to be for so long. He growls low under his breath, his hands moving as though to erase the touch of any other. When you pull away, you are breathless, and so is he. You sit on his lap, and he holds you closer.

A moment of bliss travels the two of you, and yet a yawn comes through your system, exhausted emotionally, of the time spent last night wandering, of the thoughts that raged through your head. And yet now, next to him, you can't find the courage to drift asleep, afraid to wake to your bed and to harsh reality. Zoro seems to be having the same thoughts as you, but in the caress of soft hair, he murmurs against your skin.

"Sleep, woman. I'll be here when you wake up."

Your eyes meet his hesitantly, and though you know alcohol is still in his system, you don't think that is the reason why his eyes soften when he meets your gaze. No, you knew that look, it was familiar, shining with care and softness and that unspoken emotion you had seen all too much before. That unspoken emotion, now free of its speechlessness, is only for you to know. You nod to him, surprisingly comfortable, like everything was how it was supposed to be.

When sleep consumes you, it takes only a beat more for it to consume Zoro, too. Finally free of his burdenous thoughts, of regret, and of needing alcohol to erase his feelings. Zoro now indulges your warmth, the softness of your skin, the weight of you against his broad chest. As a smile lingers on his face, it is then he realises how often you pull the corners of his lips upwards, how often you bring him to a place of peace in a world clouded with anything but.

A distraction? How could you ever be?

He was utterly devoted to you.

And you were now his.

When both of you wake the next day, it is to the incoherent screaming of Sanji, the laughter of your Captain and the agape expressions of Chopper, Brook and Ussop. Nami, Franky and Jimbei look on, unsurprised and grinning. But Robin looks to the two of you asleep in the arms of the other knowingly.

"Finally..."

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peachigummi · 1 year ago

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is that right? ☏ mattheo riddle.

summary: both your parents had set up an arranged marriage. you both simply tolerated it for the most part, as it really was in the best interest for your respective families. over the year, you started to really develop feelings for each other - especially in wanting to expand the family name.

pairing: mattheo x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ jealousy, smut like literal major baby making so there is unprotected p in v and creampie, so breeding!kink, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, choking, gagging, slight bondage, almost public but not really?, cock warming... maybe slight daddy/mommy stuff naturally?. i think that's pretty much it fluff at the end. he is rough but talks you through it, praise!kink.

note: this is my first time ever writing smut...omg i almost didnt finish writing this LOL i had to stop midway then I had the post clarity and that shameful feeling HAHAHAH

word count: 7.5k

(slightly not really proofread...again)

reblogs & comments are appreciated! i hope you have fun!! tell me what you think!

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Both your parents had set up an arranged marriage for after you and Mattheo graduated from Hogwarts. You've been married for over a year now, living in a manor that housed both families. There was definitely some tension occurring, recently you’ve both started to further develop feelings. At first you tolerated your union as his family wanted to continue with a strong and pure bloodline, and your family simply wanted protection.

You were sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair when Mattheo walked out of the bathroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist. He gave you a smug look, heading to the walk-in closet, dropping the towel and slipping on his underwear, his back turned to you. You wouldn’t help but press your thighs together at the sight of him, you quickly return to brush the knots from your hair.

From the vanity mirror you look at his chiseled back muscles. He still looks as good as the first day you met him. You had the luck on your side for that, at least the partner in your arranged marriage was good looking…yet you craved having a chance to fall in love organically. You could count on a single hand how many times you and Mattheo had been physically intimate.

Mattheo put on a shirt and grey sweats, shit, before walking out of the closet to approach you. “I’ve heard from your parents that you’ve been talking to another guy at work?” he says calmly but firmly.

You thought about it for a second, “Charlie? Yeah, he’s in training.” After graduating Hogwarts you were able to quickly land a job with the M.O.M. while mattheo stuck with DAD…aka the family…business. I moved on to rub body oil on my legs and arms, not looking at him.

He tried to not pay any attention to you as you moved your hands in tight little circles. Mattheo would love a good massage right about now too, he took a step back and sat on his side of the massive bed, “and what do you talk to him about?”

“I mean,” you scoff at him, “Mattheo, it’s just training protocols. Showing him around the work area, how to do things, where things are at. Not much else to it than that.”

He clenched his jaw, he couldn’t deny that he had an attraction to you, but he always told himself to ignore it, “that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it.” You stood up from the vanity, clicking closed the boy oil. Setting it down where it belonged, you enjoyed having a tidy space. You sat on your side of the bed.

He looked at the way your hips swayed in your night dress as you walked to your side. You turned your head to look back at him. He looked so tense, “I hope you’re not lying.”

You stayed quiet, of course he wouldn’t trust me. You had never given him a reason not to even before the start of this arrangement, so it annoyed you when he doubted you. That might just be his nature though. You slid into the satin bed sheets, they were nice and cool to the touch, much needed after a long day at work. You turned your bedside lamp off, encasing your both in darkness. Mattheo laid beside you, he usually took to his side, but tonight he was feeling a bit off so he wanted to be close to you. Not making physical contact but enough to where you notice his warm body.

You kept your eyes open, your back turned away from him, what was he doing? He never slept so close to you. After a long period of silence you spoke up, feeling brave because it was dark. You wouldn’t see his expression and he wouldn’t see yours, “are you jealous, Mattheo?”

He sneered at the question, as if the idea of him being jealous was a crime, “of course not. I’m just concerned that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.” There was a small hint of jealousy in his voice, he hated to admit it but he didn’t like the idea of you with another man.

“I might have not had a choice, but I don’t plan to step out of this marriage. You have nothing to worry about.” You tried to scoot closer to the edge of the bed, trying to build distance from him, “I wish I could say the same with you…and your assistant.”

His face looked offended, but you couldn't see it, you could hear it in his voice, trying to keep it cool. “My assistant? You’re the only one that is allowed in my office.”

“That’s not what Draco told me.” Mattheo was able to recruit Draco back into the business. Draco was nice to you, he was like a brother figure. Your families were close. They would have arranged a marriage with him instead, but his mother decided against it. She believed in falling in love, and making the choice Draco’s. “He warned me to never let you go on any work trips or work late over time. He doesn’t trust your assistant. Draco told me she wants to take any opportunity to have you alone, where no one can see you two.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as he listened to you. He didn’t appreciate that Draco was telling you things about him, in fact was pissed. He sat up in bed, turning on his bedside lamp. He looked at you with furious eyes, “Draco has no idea what he’s talking about. My work assistant wouldn’t do such things!” That was a lie and he knew it.

“I trust Draco. Don’t you speak ill of him. Why are you defending her?! YOU’RE the one who should be telling me that you wouldn’t do such things with her!” You couldn’t help your own jealousy come forth, you nearly fell off the bed.

He grabbed your arm to pull you back on the bed. Mattheo spoke with a calm and firm voice, “you have my word that I have never, nor will i ever, do such things with my assistant. No other woman can have me the way you do.” He admitted with a smirk, grabbing your chin and lifting it up so your gaze would be on him only.

You didn’t thank him for catching you, but you were glad he did. You lost your concentration for a split second at his admission. You regained yourself, “fire her then.”

He laughed at your demand, “fire my assistant?” A wicked thought passed through it. He could use this to his advantage to make you feel jealous, test the water on how you felt about him, “Why would I do that? She helps me.”

You crossed your arms, “you have three choices.” You count up with your fingers, “You either fire her. Let me choose an assistant for yourself. Or you hire me to be your new assistant.”

He raised his eyebrow at your offers, but still kept his cool, He didn’t want to show how turned on he was by how demanding you were being at the moment, “you’re giving me an ultimatum…” he smirked slightly, “and you think I’ll just do as you demand?”

“You better mattheo. If you don’t want to take it for purely my sake, do it for your bloodline.” I rolled my eyes. Fighting back the blush, thinking one day I will carry his child.

He groaned at the mention of the family purity, “is that right?” he said in a frustrated tone, “you know as well as I do that this marriage is a duty to our families.” He sighed. “Very well, i’ll take you up on your offer, be my new assistant.”

Your eyes grew wide. You didn’t actually expect him to take that choice, far as you could tell he enjoyed being away from you even if it was at work. “I’ll call my work in the morning. See? Not so bad that I was training Charlie, he can take my place.” You tried to read his face before laying back down, this time closer to the center of the bed.

He turned off his lamp again, “let it be done. But remember, as my new assistant, I won't go easy on you.” He teased, there was a small smile on his face he couldn’t straighten out.

You reached out to pinch his ear, “don’t let it get to your head. I’m still your equal as your wife. Don’t forget about that.” You turned your back to him once again, closing your eyes.

His smile only got bigger at how fierce you were being, he must have struck a chord. He has never seen you so jealous. “Yes, yes… of course my love.” he mocked in a quiet voice as he inched closer to you, laying by your side. Not making much contact, but enough to tease you. You rolled your eyes, he only ever used pet names to tease you. You wanted them to mean something. You remembered the way he came out of the shower, you thought about his wide shoulders, his collar bones.. You scoot your ass closer to his hips. Two can play at that game.

Mattheo’s breath hitched, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep. Goodnight.”

He was so close to snapping at you, but he didn’t want to take the bait, “night.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next morning you woke up early to call and explain why you were leaving the ministry. You had to come up with a solid unsuspecting excuse. Mattheo’s family would not be too happy with it, being their spy and all, but if it meant my marriage could be successful, so be it.

You were at the dining room table, it was empty. Everyone in the manor wouldn’t wake up for another half hour or so. Yet there was Mattheo in his black suit, “morning.” He found it amusing you were already ready for the day. He looked you up and down, a wave of lust surged through him. He thought you looked quite lovely, he almost said it outloud but resisted the urge.

“Good morning Mr. Riddle, sir.” You stood up, pulling his seat out. You rolled my eyes, but smiled sweetly at him, “I’m ready for my first day.”

He chuckled softly at how polite you were being, “are you now? And what are you looking forward to most today?”

One of the maids came by to set mattheo’s breakfast down. I smiled at her and waited until she left before continuing, “Sir, I'm looking forward to you firing your current assistant… in front of me.” You batted your lashes at him. Knowing you were going to meet her for the first and last time, you took extra care in how you looked.

“You really want to witness her losing her job, don't you?” He bit the corner of his mouth.

“She should have watched the way she was acting with you, if she really cared about her job security.” Our blended family began to slowly trickle into the dining room, you laid a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder. you kissed his head. We made the appearance of a blissful marriage around them, not wanting a rift to occur between the families, “I'll meet you at the car in 15, darling.”

He tried his hardest to maintain his facade as you kissed him and left. He again watched you walk away, your perfect figure made his body tingle with desire once more. He excused himself from the table.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mattheo turned the car off and unbuckled his seatbelt first to get out so he could open your door, “are you ready, my dear?” he questioned though he knew the answer. He didn’t think there would be any hesitation from you in regards to what was about to happen.

You nodded, straightening out your skirt. You followed him into the building. You felt uneasy to be around so many people who have caused harm and were plotting to do more. At least your family was safe, as long as you were with the Riddles.

Mattheo noticed and held your hand as he led you to his office, “Nothing is going to happen to you.” He offered you a chair in front of his desk before going around to sit at the main chair.

You couldn’t help but smile, you let it drop just as quick too. It’s all just part of the agreement. If something were to happen to you, poof~ there goes the bloodline.

“Good morning, Mattheo.” A woman with a sickly sweet, sickly high pitched voice said with the entry.

He gave her a brief glimpse, he could already tell he would get a headache. His assistant was wearing a tight fitting top with a ridiculously short skirt, she was pouring him a cup of coffee.

You watched as his eyes followed her, gripping tightly at the chair’s arm. Draco was right, no one in their right mind would think of dressing that skimpy for work, if they were truly just there to get shit done. “It’s Mr. Riddle to you.” You said taking your left hand to your chin, making sure your wedding ring was up and front ready to gawk at.

Mattheo looked at you, he loved the way your demeanor was changing. He could see the jealous and possessive energy oozing off of you. He found it quite intriguing, a part of him wanted to test your limits. He reached out to accept the cup of coffee from his assistant, “is it just like how I like it?” “Yes Mr. Riddle. Just how you like it” she said, leaning over to him, finishing the stir. This made her skirt even tighter and her breasts were there to peep into.

You stared at Mattheo hard, expecting him to say something to the woman. He felt you, he had to admit he also was quite displeased at how his assistant behaved around him, but it was all fun and game.

“Now, what do I have scheduled for today?”

Before the woman could answer you interrupted. “I know one thing you have scheduled, Mattheo.” You tapped your foot. You needed her gone. Now. Draco - you’ll have to thank him at the next dinner party. You should have done something sooner. You can’t believe your husband was letting this slut work around him, dictating what he did by the hour.

Mattheo’s eyebrows slightly rose in surprise, he was a bit caught off guard at your interruption. He was so amused by how impatient you had become.

“Well we do have a meeting to go with the Boyles in an hour, can this wait?” His assistant said puffing her chest out to make it appear larger. You hated that she said we instead of you. That bitch. You got up from your seat, going around the desk to stand behind Mattheo. You snaked both arms over his shoulders and down his chest.

He held back a groan as your soft touch distracted his thoughts for a moment. He loved that you were making it clear he was yours. He snapped out of it when he remembered he was still in the presence of his assistant so he looked back at her, all the mock gone from his voice, “i’ll be quick… You’re fired. You're no longer needed here.”

The blood drained out of the woman’s face, her shoulder’s immediately fell. You gave her a fake condolences look.

“W-wuh why? What did I do? Is this because of the office party last week? It won’t happen again, it was wildly inappropriate.” She composed herself, taking a stab at you with the last portion. You brought your hands to Mattheo’s shoulders and squeezed hard slowly, as to not bring attention to the action.

His eyes darkened, “You knew the rules. My father specifically told you when you started not to try anything with me. But even after making it clear, you still chose to try and make a move on me at my own party.” His voice was deep, hiding the amusement that lay underneath.

Even though you hated the confession, you couldn't help but appreciate Mattheo’s honesty. You lessened the grip on his shoulders, rubbing out the part you dug in your nails as a way of saying thank you.

“I was so drunk Mr. Riddle. I’m terribly sorry. I really need this job. I thought you were needing something else…I thought you weren’t getting pleased right. Mattheo, I'm sorry don’t fire me.” You wanted to scream as she pleaded. You can hear the poison off the back of her tongue. Seriously, that Bitch! With that comment you returned to dig your nails into Mattheo.

“My needs are none of your concern.” Mattheo spat at her, but she was right. He has been craving a certain kind of touch for far too long now. He did enjoy a good begging, no matter who it came from, but he wasn’t going to go against his marriage.

You felt him hold your left hand, flipping it so that both the back of your hands were facing the woman, he was showing your matching rings, “I am perfectly happy in my marriage.” You couldn’t help but wonder if he meant that, or if it was just for show. I was happy too wasn’t I?

The woman looked at your hands that were pressed together, despite her disappointment, she knew there was nothing she could do so she bit her tongue and nodded in response. You watched her every movement, as she collected herself. She still didn’t bother pulling down her skirt or buttoning up her shirt, it was as if she still wanted Mattheo to see what he would have missed out on. To leave this image with him as a parting gift.

He simply stared at the clock, “you have three minutes to collect your things before security arrives to escort you out of the building. Do not leave anything behind because it will be incinerated. My father will deal with your severance…if he gives you anything. Especially after I tell him why I had to fire you.”

She turned to the door, stole a glance back at Mattheo, and left the room. You stayed put behind Mattheo. You didn’t want him to see your face just yet. You needed to cool down.

He groaned loudly and leaned back into your touch, rubbing a hand over his face, “I don’t even know why I kept her for so long. She wasn’t even that good at her job” he smirked, still wanting to test you.

“Don’t play stupid, I know I won't. Clearly there was something going on!” You scoffed, “to think you were getting so mad at Draco for warning me!”

He took your hand pulling you over to sit on his lap, “there was absolutely nothing going on. I didn’t ask her for anything outside of work related things. I would have never let her touch me, she thought I was unhappy in our marriage.”

“Why would she think you were unhappy hmm? Why was she assuming, let’s be honest, she assumed correctly that you weren’t getting needs met. How were you acting with her, tell me now.” You couldn’t help but feel like a little girl on his lap, a little girl who was throwing a tantrum for not wanting to share a beloved stuffed animal.

He rested his chin on your shoulder as he spoke into your ear, “it was probably because I was often short tempered with her, but I promise it was mostly due to her not doing her job correctly.” His lips brushed against your neck.

Yeah that kind of sounds like Mattheo, he liked things done a certain way, and he didn’t like when it veered off the track. But then again, even in school he was a massive flirt. So how much was the tension between the two due to his short temper and how much was his charm?

“She’s not worth even a moment of your thought.” He mumbled against your ear, sending a shiver down to your core. He placed a gentle kiss right under your jaw. His hands ran down your thighs, squeezing ever so lightly.

You let out a faint moan, “Mattheo…” You couldn’t remember exactly the last time you were like this, it was very rare. While in school, you remembered how everyone wanted him. He allowed them to play games with him, he loved to toy with them too. But the girls knew, they ultimately knew they had no chance ending up with him. Our arranged marriage wasn’t a secret.

He continued to press kisses over your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking gently on your skin, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch. He grabbed one leg and forced you to face him, your knees now on either side of his thighs, straddling him. He then wordlessly cast a spell on the door with his wand, so it wouldn’t be opened. He didn’t even look at the door, he didn’t need to carefully aim. You could feel your core getting embarrassingly wet at the simple gesture. “Mattheo, we shouldn’t..” you panted.

“Maybe you’re right…” He responded, though he didn’t stop his ministrations. He captured your lips with his, kissing you hungrily as he pressed his body against yours. His hands exploring over your body.

You let your hands go up the back of his neck, tugging at his dark curls. They were so soft and velvety. Fuck. He felt so good, you could feel him press against yourself. You forgot how big he was, you wanted to just dry hump him to feel satisfied with yourself right now. You couldn’t bring yourself to it, you tried to speak between his hasty sloppy kisses, “Matty…you do have a meeting soon.”

He loosened his grip ever so slightly, “then do your job. and cancel. it.” He said through gritted teeth, planting kisses on your collarbone. Without looking he pulled his phone closer to you. He hoped you would make the right choice.

You nodded shifting in his lap, earning a groan. What a start to my new job. “What’s the extension to Boyle’s assistant?” You grabbed the receiver trying to hold it and keep your breath steady. Mattheo whispered it against your ear lobe. You grew impatient once more as you continued to hear it ring on the other end. C’mon answer.

“Hello, how may I direct your call?”

“Hi um” you looked down at Mattheo’s sweet brown eyes that were following you, pleading with yours, you tried to get him to pause with his lip exploration for a second, “I’m Mr. Riddles’ new assistant - we..I..we..sorry he needs to” damn ..girl I NEED TO! Mattheo muffled his own giggle with his hand. Enjoying how you kept messing up, obviously your mind has started to get clouded.

“Y/N/N?” The woman on the other receiver said, your old nickname from school.

“Oh my god, Daphne? Hey! I didn’t recognize your voice…!”

He watched you with slight amusement.

Daphne started to ramble on about how she started at this job, on any other day you would have totally loved to entertain her and catch up. You got along very well, but you cut her off as she explained, “um Daphne, we should go out for some coffee soon, we can talk then. It’s just that Mattheo needs the meeting with the Boyles rescheduled.”

“Oh..okay..is everything alright? It was an important meeting…”

Not as important as this.

“Everything is fine, is there a different time we can meet? Push it back a couple more hours?” You looked over at his schedule that his previous slut of an assistant left. You both ended up agreeing on a later time, you quickly thanked her and said goodbye. You clicked the receiver down, putting the do not disturb on for good measure too.

“Where were we?” you shyly said, looking at his eyes that were gleaming with desire and excitement.

“I was thinking we could restart from here..” He readjusted you back on his lap, slipping a hand under your skirt skimming along the line of your panty.

You missed his touch, his hands could sometimes be so cold to the touch that they felt like they left a burning trail. He pulled back slightly, picking you up by your ass to set you down on the edge of his desk. He used his hands to open your legs wider, ever so gently “Is it okay if I touch you right here?” you were already nodding before he finished, “Use your words with me. Do you want me to touch you here?” He padded his thumb against your core, still over your panties. “Yes Mattheo, please please touch me.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled proudly, he could already feel the want and need pouring off of you, and it was driving him equally if not more insane. He pushed your skirt up higher, revealing yourself to him. Ran his hands over your hips massaging them as you had done the night before. They felt so soft and squishy.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back, leaning on your forearms. You moved your head forward to look at him when he retracted his hands. He had sat back down in his chair, admiring how he had you. You felt like you were under a microscope, to be so exposed. You tried pressing your legs back together.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, “don’t hide. Let me see you.” he pushed your knees back apart to regain his view. He pulled your dominant hand forward, he also leaned forward so you could touch the side of his face, “show me how you please yourself.” He watched with a hungry expression, clearly enjoying how you blushed and got flustered. Mattheo gently rubbed his thumb along your burning cheek softly, then traced it against your bottom lip asking for entry, “there’s no need to be shy with me, my love.” His voice was sweet and soft, “I promise I wont judge you, you are my wife after all.”

You let his thumb go into your mouth. You sucked on it, not once breaking eye contact, “shit y/n, that’s my pretty princess.” with his free hand he slid underneath his own pants and readjusted himself into a comfortable position. He took your dominant hand once more, putting it over your core. “Show me.”

You hesitated again to make a move on yourself, Mattheo pulled his thumb out of your mouth so he could wrap his hand around your neck, “don’t make me say it again.”

Oh my shit. “Sorry” you managed to choke out through his alternating grip intensity. You went over your panties to play yourself. You were so wet. Your hand was shaking with nerves as you rubbed over your entrance, letting your slick arousal coat them before moving them between your folds and finally at your clit. Mattheo was looking down at your movements. The hand that wasn’t around your neck, he helped by holding your panties out of the way, “so pretty, you’re glistening.”

“You..you have this effect on me Matty. This is all for you.”

“Good, you’re mine.” He choked you hard then lessened it once more, “and i'm yours.” He kissed you again before watching you play with yourself. You kept rubbing your clit for him. He let go of your neck, you felt your blood rush back to your brain. Mattheo unbuttoned your top, unclasped your bra and started to play with your breasts. Alternating and teasing each nipple. “So perfect.” He grinned against your nipples, biting it and blowing cool air on it. You yelped and he covered your mouth, “shhh.” He unlatched himself from you and sat down. He rubbed himself through his pants before undoing his belt. His eyes never left your wet core, it was purring for him.

He let out a small sign, laughing. You felt insecure for a split second, “what?”

“Nothing..you’re just doing..it wrong”

“Huh?”

“Here let me help you, princess. I’ll show you how I'd do it.” he moved his chair closer, moving your hand away. He just rubbed the middle and ring finger along your heat, it grant him a moan, “y/n, as much as I love hearing you like this. You’ve gotta stay quiet.”

You bit your lip hard, “I’ll try Mattheo but..”

“None of that, you must do as I say.” he gently inserted one finger inside you, curling it up against your wall. You moaned louder. He whipped his single digit out, “you’re so needy, even with a single finger? Sweet Salazar, what am I going to do with you? You’re hopeless.” He let out a haughty laugh.

“Baby..please.” You watched him stand up, taking his belt off the loops of his pants. You thought he was finally doing to give you what you wanted most, but instead he just wrapped it around your head, tightening it around your mouth, closing it.

“I’m really sorry I have to do this baby girl, but you just wont keep your mouth shut.” He wasn’t a bit sorry, you can tell by how he looked down at the sight of you. He was actually quite pleased. He gave you a kiss on the forehead, it was a sharp contrast to the leather belt wrapped around your mouth. Seeing you like this was beyond his wildest dreams, gagged before him. Mattheo sat back down continuing where he left off, but this time he inserted two of his fingers. He didn’t allow you to adjust to them. The belt indeed muted your cry. It hurt, you didn’t dare use two of your own fingers on yourself, and here he was with hands that were twice the size of yours.

“You’re doing so well for me, princess.” He whispered, inserting his fingers all the way and pulling them out the same. You felt a tear running down your cheek. He began to rhythmically curve them when they were inside you. The pain was quickly subdued with pleasure. You laid back on the desk arching yourself so he could go in deeper, “so now you want more huh?”

Still fingering you, he went back to suck on your nipples. He towered over you, you shook your head, “what is it?” He looked at your concern. You looked at his fully clothed body, wrapping your hand around his tie. You were naked, apart from your skirt, but it was so bunched up at your hips it didn’t matter. You couldn’t be the only one bare right now, you want to see his body, “how are you still bossy with your mouth shut?” He laughed, pushing your hand away, “news flash, I’m your boss now. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Despite his words, he did take off his tie first, wrapping it around your wrists, goddammit, before taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt only half way. You could look at his chest that was peaking. You felt yourself drool against the belt.

He sat back down and continued to finger you relentlessly. He pulled out and tasted his fingers, “too bad you’re gagged. I would have liked you to taste yourself. At least I have your cunt to myself.” he welcomed himself into you again. He slowly ran his warm tongue up your slit, stopping at your clit. He did this a couple of times. It was so agonizing. Your eyes were bobbing around unable to stay open. With your hands tied you were still able to hold his head down to stop and focus on your clit.

Mattheo would have swatted your hands away, but he needed your touch as well. He wanted to make you feel amazing, he wanted you to forget your name and only respond to “wife”. But god did he also just want to already bury his cock deep inside you to feel some relief. He needed to be patient.

Your breath began to get shallow and unsteady. He groaned against your clit, your pussy was repeatedly clenching around his fingers, indicating you were close.

His lips curled devilishly, he was thinking about denying your orgasm. He only wanted you to cum on his cock and nothing else. The only reason why he didn’t is because he loved the taste of you too much to stop, “you can do it, doll. Come for me let me taste it.”

You began to shake and grab a fist full of curls as you came. He gradually slowed down, helping you ride out your orgasm. You felt so relaxed.

He looked so full of himself. He pulled his face away from you, his lips were red and swollen from his own work. Mattheo held up his right hand, the one that was fingering you, you could see the wetness on it.

With his clean hand he pulled down his pants and underwear in one quick motion. Rubbing his cock with his right hand, letting your cum wet it. He used two fingers to beacon you over, before he realized you couldn’t move. He left your wrists still tied, and pulled you forward onto your feet. “Look me in the eye, princess. Do you promise to be quiet now?”

You could only nod. That was enough for him, because he had other plans to occupy your mouth. He removed the belt around your mouth. With your still bonded hands you wiped the spit around your mouth, “God, damn.”

He laughed, “I don't remember being called God before, but you can't continue with its use.”

Before you could reply with something snarky, he pushed you down onto your knees and had the tip of his cock at your lips, “Sorry, I can’t actually trust you to be quiet, so open wide and take it.”

You obeyed. Though you could only take nearly half of it before it started your gag reflex, “i love that sound baby,” he signed, “is it too big for you?” He didn’t really care for an answer, of course it was. It would have just inflated his ego more.

“C’mon and let me in more.” slobber just kept going down your chin and onto your breasts. He bucked his hips at the sight, “you’re so fucking pretty.” Mattheo gathered your hair into two bunches, using them as handlebars. He was straight throat fucking you at this point. You began to feel faint, and he saw it too, so he pulled his cock all the way out allowing you to breathe. “You’re doing so good.” He kissed you on the lips, using his shirt to help clean your chin.

You were just about to say thank you when he reinserted his cock into your mouth. You pull your head back and he actually allows you. With your bound hands you stroke the portion of his cock that you couldn’t take in, pumping it. Admiring the veins running down it . You wrap your lips around his lip, swirling your tongue around. His precum was like a classified drug to you, it was so delicious. You kept at your pace wanting more to come out, “you’re obsessed” Mattheo pointed out thrilled.

“Talk to me, love” He touched your ear lobe.

You spoke to him with his cock still in your mouth, so it slurred your speech, “yob ase s’ gob.”

He chuckled but groaned with the vibrations your voice made, “what was that?”

You stopped sucking, “you taste so good!” you smile at him. This brought him to his knees, literally he kneeled beside you, he removed the tie around your wrists rubbing them for you. Both your eyes are on the same level now.

“You really are beautiful.” He said causing you to blush. “Don’t turn all shy on me now, princess.” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear in a soft gesture. “We’re far from being shy with each other right now.” Mattheo kissed you.

“I just like hearing you say that, my king.”

With a voice filled with affectionate warmth, “when you call me that it makes me want to keep you by my side forever, my precious princess.” He began to kiss you harder, “I want to keep you forever.” He pushed his soft side out of the way and pushed you onto your knees in front of him You arched your back so your ass was in the air, “this is what you fucking teased me with last night.”

You laughed, “yeah I know.”

“So you wanted this bad huh?”

“Yess Matty I want you.”

He admired the scene in front of him. He kneaded your ass, biting it and making your cry again. “Don’t make me use the belt again.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” You cupped your own mouth. You saw his jacket on the floor and took it under your head.

“You’re so obedient, it's very good. How haven’t I bred you sooner? I want you pregnant with the next Riddle heir.” He ran a hand slowly over your back, gently but possessively.

“I have actually been thinking the same thing. My body is ready for your seed, im..im ready for it.”

When you agreed with his wish it only made something in him pop, something shifted in Mattheo’s eyes. The hunger and desire growing.

He spat out at your spread exposed pussy, as if it wasn’t already sopping wet. He just liked the idea of having his bodily fluids in you. He rubbed his full length on the outside of your slit, teasing you, “you think your tiny pussy can take my cock better than your mouth?”

Shit…actually that was an honest question. The few times you tried already, you were only able to take in 3/4th of his length before tearing and asking him to stop. Plus you both haven’t fucked in a long while, “Matty, I’ll try by best…” you sounded a little uneased.

He pulls on your arm turning you to look behind at him, “We don't have to rush this. But I promise i’ll make it good for you if you let me. You’re my wife and you will be the mother of my children soon enough.” He let go of you, bending over to kiss your shoulder blades, biting them roughly before going to your ear, “I’ll try to take it slow, but I really need you to take all of me in, darling. I need my seed to make it directly into your womb. I don’t want it to possibly drip out. You can do it.”

You moaned at his words of encouragement, you will try your best. He continued to stroke your hair, “listen to me: you’re my everything. And I won't let you get hurt, okay?” He kissed your temple, “if it is too unbearable, just tell me and I'll stop. Nothing is more important to me than your comfort and trust…but I do want you to give me a baby. A couple of them.” He laughed like his usual self, “so please try hard to take me like a good girl.”

You pulled at his hair harshly, “just fuck me Riddle.” with that he slapped your ass leaving a red welt in the shape of his hand and squeezing it to lengthen the pain, “atta girl”. He finger fucked you a little bit more before realigning the tip of his dick to your hole.

You closed your eyes, and he began to press into you. It wasn't so bad, actually it already felt amaz - -- okay nevermind. He felt you squeeze around him, and he stopped to reassess the situation, “please princess, let me in.”

“Matty I don’t…I dont think I can” you gripped onto his jacket for dear life.

“You can and you will.” He reached over to rub your clit, it helped relax you and he kept sinking deeper and deeper in you. You bit the jacket. It was a crazy mix of pain and pleasure.

“There we go.” he was satisfied, he was finally balls deep inside you, “see I knew you could do it.” He stayed still trying to let your pussy try to adjust around him, “you’re so fucking tight. Actually, I was having second thoughts, but here we are.” He said proudly kissing your neck from behind.

“You’re so fucking huge Mattheo, you’re too good to me.”

“I adore you” he whispered, “there’s no one else like you. You’re…you’re the love of my life. Both our parents saw that before we did. They knew we were meant for each other when they arranged our marriage.” He groaned as you squeezed him purposefully this time.

“I love you Mattheo. I do.” You manage, your words felt true to each other. With a tender grip he starts to move his hips slowly away from you only to slam back in. Watching your face for any sign you wanted him to stop but all he got was a smile and, “I’ll give you as many children as you want.”

Without proper warning he quickened his pace holding you face down to the floor. You closed your eyes tightly, locking your jaw. You inhaled his smell through his jacket. Pain was being replaced with a pleasurable numbness. Your brain was going utterly stupid, “make me pregnant Mattheo. Let me make you into a proper daddy.”

He chuckled at that, “fucking take my dick then. I’ll make you the most beautiful mommy there is. You're such a good wife and I know you’ll be the best mother to my children.”

Mattheo pressed his hand just under your belly button, he took one of your hands and pressed it there with you, “can you feel my cock, darling? You can feel it through your tummy.”

“Yes I can. I feel so full.” You moan.

His grunt and thrusts began to get sloppy, his balls slapping against your clit. It made you roll your eyes behind your head, “princess, I think…”

“Me too, let's cum together. Let's mix ourselves more.” You raised your ass higher, tilting it ignoring the back pain you were getting.

“I’m going to fill you up even more,” he whimpered, his voice faltering as if he was about to cry, “don't let anything drip out. Take it all in okay?” You nodded, holding your head up and twisting it so uncomfortably around to the side so you can watch him release himself into you. What a sight for sore eyes.

His curls were plastered onto his forehead with sweat, his cheeks were flushed. Mattheo’s eyes looked back at your eyes with a longing you haven't seen before, “I love you Y/N. thank you thank you thank you.” He began to repeat, as he shot a large load into you. He was right, you could feel your tummy grow already. You followed shortly after, squeezing and milking his cock out more.

His breath was coming out in ragged gasps as he came down from his climax. His body was trembling, but he held you tightly. His face buried in the crook of your neck, “that was incredible.” He looked at you with adoration and contentment, “you’ve given me everything i’ve ever wanted. Thank you.”

“Thank you for choosing me after all.”

Mattheo was about to pull out, but you didn’t allow him. You pulled at his shirt, making him spoon you on the floor. You wanted to warm his cock, but also use it to continue plugging in his cum inside of you, to be marinated. You told him this too, and he flushed, “hey you said we wouldn’t be getting shy with each other, it’s too late for that.” He laughed making his dick still twitch inside you, you let out a moan. He grinned mischievously. You gave him an uncertain look.

Mattheo looked at the clock “yeah we should probably just move the meeting to a different day.”

“Do I really have to call it in again?”

“Yes yes you do, you’re my new assistant remember?”

“Yeah and soon to be the mother of your children too.”

He wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. “I promise to take care of you and our little ones,” he said with sincerity, “You’ll be the most beautiful, loving mother, and I'll support you every step of the way.”

He tugged on the phone’s cord, pulling it so that it drops on the floor beside the two of you, “go on call again. Move it for next week.” He starts kissing your jaw again, moving his hips and slithering his hand back to your clit, “I hope you didn’t think we were finished, I think I can give you more of my cum to hold.”

“Mattheo…”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle smut #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #mattheo fluff #mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle scenarios #harry potter smut #slytherin boys smut

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crushmeeren · 3 months ago

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Thoughts of knight! Megumi are hitting me hard.

From the age of ten, knight! Megumi grows up glued to your side. As the princess, your Father insisted upon someone guarding you at all times. He’s not a real knight as a child, but he’s training to become one! Megumi takes it seriously, mimicking everything Gojo, his mentor, does. He wouldn’t if it meant protecting anyone besides you.

Knight! Megumi is your best friend. It’s a secret of course, that you share inside jokes with him. That you whisper silly commentary about the stuck up citizens at the yearly ball thrown in your honor to him as he stands guard. Megumi has to hide his laughter with a cough or slam the metal face plate shut so he’s not caught slacking.

Knight! Megumi chases off all the sketchy suitors who wish for your hand in marriage. He knows you hate not being in charge of your own destiny, so if he can delay the inevitable even by a second, he will.

Knight! Megumi is the first boy you fall in love with. The only boy you fall in love with. He’s strong and loyal and pretty, and he scares away all the icky men. He’d strike down anyone for you if you’d only ask.

Knight! Megumi can’t say no when you plead with him to sneak into your bedroom in the dead of night. He’s wrapped around your finger, even more so when your pussy’s wrapped around his cock. When he shoves your knees to your chest he covers your mouth with his hand, or slips two fingers past your lips, presses on your tongue, and whispers “hush, princess.” The other guards can’t be allowed to catch on that Megumi’s fucking the princess, right? Surely the King would have his head.

Knight! Megumi knows that climbing into your bed every night contradicts just about every rule he’d been taught. He gives no fucks. He’ll never let another man lay hands on his princess. Megumi looks the King in the eyes and lies straight to his face, swearing on his life to protect your “virtue.” As if he hadn’t had his face in between your legs an hour ago.

Gojo’d be proud he’s sticking the middle finger to the man.

master list

ᯓ★ dividers created by me.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro smut #megumi smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk megumi #jjk x you #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi #jjk #megumi x you #fushiguro x you #mdni

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fatecantstopme · 10 months ago

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Lustful Agony

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen, aka my favorite trope.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names, an insane amount of smut, dubcon (cuz sex pollen), unprotected sex (p in v), oral (F receiving), masturbation (F).

"Would you please be careful?" you snapped.

Your partner froze and offered you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, doc. I wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," you huffed. "There are any number of things in here that could kill us, so tread lightly."

"Maybe I should wait here."

You glanced in his direction and nodded. "You know what? Good idea. Stay there and don't touch anything."

You continued on through the dusty lab, hoping to find at least one working computer, but after 20 minutes, it seemed hopeless. Every computer had been destroyed and most of the paper files had been shredded or burned. All that remained was hundreds of glass vials filled with various liquids and gases that did gods-only-knew what.

"I'm starting to think this might be a burn and run," you called back to Bucky--still standing where you'd left him on the other side of the lab.

"If we blow this place, is there gonna be a toxic cloud?"

You shot an annoyed look in his direction. "I said 'burn', James, not 'blow'. We're not blowing up a lab filled with unknown chemicals and biological agents."

"Right, yeah." He looked at the ground, feeling slightly embarrassed. He always seemed to make a fool of himself in front of you and he hated it. He never wanted to be the fool, especially around you.

Your well-trained eyes scanned the room again before falling on a secured biological containment chamber. You knew that would be the best option for storing items for burning. All you'd need to do was get all the bio vials into the chamber and light it up.

You crossed the room to the chamber, feeling Bucky's eyes following you. He hated being in a position where he felt like he couldn't protect you, but he was out of his element here. As the resident hazardous materials expert, this was your area of brilliance.

You grumbled in annoyance when you noticed the lock on the containment chamber was activated. You were familiar with this particular model, and if you were lucky, these Hydra assholes hadn't been smart enough to bother changing the code. You input the pin, silently crossing your fingers, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the distinct sound of the mechanism unlocking.

You lifted the hood slowly, hoping to find the chamber empty. You had a momentary thought that you and Bucky should be wearing appropriate PPE, but the thought occurred to you too late.

A sound of surprise escaped your lips as a puff of sweet-smelling pink dust blew into your face from inside the cabinet. The tactical suit and gloves you were wearing did nothing to protect your respiratory system from the unknown substance.

The dust seemed to dissolve almost instantly, fading into nothingness before you could even alert Bucky to the hazard. He, of course, had heard your surprised gasp, thanks to his super soldier hearing.

"Doc? Everything okay?" he called worriedly.

"Not sure," you replied. "I, uh, I got hit in the face with some pink dust...and I'm willing to bet it's not fairy dust."

Bucky's blood ran cold. "Pink dust?"

"Yeah, smelled like some kind of super sweet candy--or those sugary wine coolers I drank in college."

Any color that remained in Bucky's face quickly drained. "Look at me."

His tone was so firm, it frightened you. Bucky normally joked around with you, but you could hear the fear in his voice and it scared you more than anything else.

You turned to face him and his expression confirmed your fears. "Do you know what it is?"

Bucky nodded. "I think so, but we won't know for sure for at least 30 minutes, possibly longer."

"Am I going to die?" your voice was so soft--so small--that even he almost didn't hear it.

"Not if I can help it."

When your eyes met his piercing blue orbs, he could see the terror reflected in them. He wanted to go to you, help you, but he knew he couldn't--not if you still had even the slightest trace of the dust on you.

"You need to rinse off before we get out of here," Bucky said calmly. "If it's what I think it is, then I can't get that stuff anywhere near me."

"Why? What'll happen?"

Bucky's gaze didn't quite meet yours. "I will tear you apart and not even realize it."

His words cut you like a knife. You knew deep in your soul Bucky would never hurt you, but if this substance could turn him into a wild animal, you wondered what the hell it was going to do to you.

You'd spotted a decontamination area when you'd first entered the lab, so you slowly made your way there, careful to avoid getting anywhere near Bucky.

Bucky radioed in to Sam to give him an update on the situation. You heard him describing what had happened and asking for another team to be sent in to destroy the facility.

You stood under the spray of the shower head and let the water pummel your skin. The pressure was almost painful, but you knew it was necessary to ensure the substance was no longer on your skin. You'd inhaled it, so you were screwed, but there was no reason for Bucky to be too.

After several minutes, you felt comfortable saying you were clean. You just wanted to get the hell out of this lab and back home.

You voiced as much to Bucky, but he shook his head slowly. "You're not gonna make it all the way home, (Y/N)."

You didn't like Bucky's use of your first name in this context...he always called you 'doc', and the change made you feel like death was around the corner.

Your face must have given away your fear because he continued. "I just mean you won't make it home before the symptoms start. Once they do, you won't want to be around anyone."

"So what do we do?"

"Safe house. It's our only option."

You groaned inwardly. You had zero desire to stay in that drafty little cabin another night, but you trusted Bucky's instincts, so you simply nodded.

Bucky was quick to usher you back to the quinjet, filling you in on his conversation with Sam. "He'll send in another team in full Level A hazmat gear. They'll take care of the place."

"Okay."

"You alright, doc? How you feelin'?"

"I feel fine so far. Just moderately terrified."

"Don't be. You're gonna be fine."

You wanted to believe him--really you did--but there was something in his voice that made you question if he even believed it.

By the time the jet touched down by the cabin, 25 minutes had passed since the moment of infection. Bucky still hadn't told you what you were dealing with and it was driving you insane.

You followed Bucky into the cabin and watched him drop his bag on the floor. He turned to look at you, eyes clearly sizing you up, checking to see if you were okay.

"Just tell me," you whispered--somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He sighed deeply. "How do you feel?"

You closed your eyes and took mental stock of your body, seeking anything out of the ordinary. "I feel hot, but that could just be the anxiety."

"How hot?"

"I don't know, like feverish, I guess."

Bucky groaned and the sound sent a wave of need through your body--a need that shocked you to your very core. This was absolutely not the time for your stupid crush to rear its head.

"Please don't hit me, okay? I'm just gonna touch your hand."

"Why would I hit you?" you asked a second before his flesh hand met yours. The feeling was pleasant and it warmed you from the inside out, until he removed his hand. You inhaled sharply as an intense pain you couldn't describe shot through you.

Bucky jerked his hand away, his worst fears confirmed. "I know what it is."

"Please," you whimpered.

"It's a biological agent Hydra developed when their attempts to make a useable super soldier serum failed. It was designed to induce a euphoric sexual state that would result in agony and possible death if penetrative sex was not performed and an orgasm was not achieved."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Hydra believed they could create super soldiers the old fashion way--by breeding them. Sprinkle some of the magic dust on a super soldier and he'd fuck his way through a room full of women without a single care for their well-being. They called it 'sex pollen'."

Your breathing was labored as pain began to spread through your body. You tried desperately to ignore it and focus on Bucky's words. "What happened?"

Bucky couldn't look at you as he responded softly, "None of the women survived the mating process."

You realized now what he'd meant back at the lab. You didn't really want to know, but you found yourself asking the question anyway, "Did they do it to you?"

Bucky closed his eyes, desperately trying to push the dark memories back down. "Yeah. They did."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head, banishing the memories. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is how we handle this."

"If the sex pollen had that kind of effect on a super soldier, what's it gonna do to me?"

"I imagine it's going to be significantly worse for you if you don't...umm--if you don't reach climax."

"So I have to orgasm? Seriously?"

"I wish it were that simple."

Before you could respond, you doubled over in pain, an agonized groan escaping your parted lips.

Bucky rushed to you without thinking and laid his hands on your arms. You let out a pained whine and he pulled away, suddenly remembering what was happening.

"It feels like my skin is on fire," you cried.

"I know, doll. I know."

It was killing Bucky not to be able to help you. He was your protector in every situation, but he couldn't protect you from this. He knew exactly what kind of hell you were in for and it nearly broke him.

The waves of pain subsided and you were able to pull yourself upright. "Well this is fun," you mumbled.

"It's gonna get worse, (Y/N). Much, much worse."

"That's comforting, Buck. Thank you."

He gave you a sad look. "You can't do this alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The pollen was designed to force the creation of life...the only way to alleviate the pain is to give the pollen what it wants."

Your brain had become too muddled to understand what he was saying. "Plain English, Buck. Please."

"You, uh, you have to have sex."

"So you're saying I can't just masturbate this away?"

Bucky shook his head. "You have to have sex and your partner has to umm--ejaculate inside you."

Another wave of pain raked its claws through your skin, but you managed to stay upright this time. "What happens if I don't?"

You saw the look of sadness on Bucky's face and you knew you wouldn't like his answer. "You'll die."

"Well, fuck." You winced, reaching out to grab the back of the couch for stability. The pain was only increasing and you knew it was a matter of time before you couldn't take it any longer. "How sure are you that I'll die?"

"I mean, I don't know any regular humans that survived contact with the pollen. They were used as test subjects during its creation."

"I swear, Hydra gets more disgusting every time I learn something new."

Bucky was dying to help you. Seeing you in pain was agonizing for him and he knew his pain paled in comparison to yours. He would do anything for you--all you need do was ask.

"I'm gonna try waiting it out," you said firmly.

"What?" Bucky said, shock evident in his tone.

"I'm sure as hell not gonna force you to fuck me, Bucky. So I'm gonna wait it out."

"(Y/N), you're not forcing me to do anything. I'm offering to help. I don't want you to die."

You shook your head. "I'd rather die than force you into this."

"I'm offering--"

"Don't," you snapped. "No matter what you say, I'm going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something and I can't deal with that. So please, let me try to handle this alone."

Bucky knew for a fact he could overpower you with ease, especially when you were in such a state. He could make the pain stop and you would be glad for it in the moment. But he couldn't do it. He would never ever hurt you like that, even if it meant watching you die. It just wasn't something he was capable of.

"Okay, doll."

You could tell he didn't want to agree, but you were glad he wasn't arguing. All you wanted to do was tear your clothes off and try to find some sort of relief. The fire burning under your skin was intensifying by the second.

"I'm gonna take a cold shower and lock myself in the bedroom. Please stay out here."

Bucky simply nodded. He wanted to sit on this couch and listen to the sounds of your pain about as much as he wanted to get shot in the face. But he respected you too much to ignore your wishes.

You dragged yourself into the bathroom and stripped down to nothing before climbing into the cold shower. The frigid water seemed to help at first, but you discovered the effects were short-lived.

You leaned your head against the cold tile and let out a pained sob. You wanted the pain to stop so badly, but you didn't want to involve Bucky. You couldn't. Bucky was your closest friend and partner. His was the relationship you valued most in life and you wouldn't risk it for anything. It didn't matter you were in love with him. It didn't matter you'd wanted him from the moment you'd laid eyes on him. What mattered is you knew he didn't feel the same.

Bucky had a new girl in his bed several times a week. You were pretty sure you'd never seen the same girl twice in the three years you'd known him. Each one was a tall, blonde, model-thin, gorgeous woman. You didn't check a single one of those boxes. You didn't think Bucky was shallow, he just had a type. He was one of the hottest men you'd ever seen, so it only made sense for him to be with the hottest women.

You didn't think you were ugly, by any means. You just weren't his type. You were shorter, very curvy, girl-next-door average. You'd accepted it long ago and vowed to never tell him how you felt for fear of jeopardizing your friendship. Your current situation was as close as you could get to your biggest fear and you weren't willing to risk it. You loved him too much to lose him entirely. Even if he insisted he was willing to help, you knew he would come to regret it. Things would be awkward between you and eventually your friendship would come to an end.

"Not worth the risk," you muttered to yourself.

The cooling effects of the shower had long since worn off, so you turned off the water and grabbed a towel. As you wrapped it around your body, you found it was too small to cover everything and the scratchy material was painful against your overly sensitive skin.

You dropped the towel to the ground and opened the door a crack. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"Um, the towel hurts my skin, so um...please don't look while I walk to the bedroom."

Bucky inhaled deeply, calming himself. Sure, he wasn't impacted by the pollen, but the fact that your naked body was a few feet away from him certainly did.

"I'll close my eyes."

You tentatively opened the door and peeked out. You could see Bucky sitting on the couch, eyes closed as promised. You quickly rushed from the bathroom to the open bedroom door, shutting it behind you. In your haste to get out of sight, you neglected to lock the door.

You nearly collapsed onto the bed, the need to feel some relief the only thing on your mind. Normally, you would have been embarrassed to even consider touching yourself when Bucky was so close by, but this was an extreme circumstance. You mentally told yourself you needed to be quiet at the very least, given his excellent hearing.

You tried to get as comfortable as you could, but it was impossible. The only parts of your body that didn't ache were the ones you were actively touching. You slipped your dominant hand between your legs and felt another wave of embarrassment hit when you felt just how wet you were.

The moment your fingers brushed between your folds, you let out a loud moan. You slapped your hand across your mouth and hoped Bucky mistook the sound for one of pain.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he sat on the couch less than 10 feet from the bedroom door. He could hear every tiny little sound you made, even as you desperately tried to stay quiet.

He knew he shouldn't be turned on by those sounds--not when you were experiencing something so awful--but he couldn't help it. He'd dreamed of hearing you moan for him a hundred times before. It took all his will-power to not bust down that door and give you what you needed.

You let out a particularly obscene moan and Bucky had to stifle his own. His cock strained against his pants and he hated himself for being turned on. He tried to tell himself it wasn't his fault--he'd wanted you for years--but he couldn't shake the feeling of shame.

Ten minutes went by and the sounds coming from the bedroom continued. Bucky gripped the back of the couch with all his strength, determined to not give himself even a modicum of pleasure from this.

Another five minutes passed and he heard you let out a pained sob. His heart skipped a beat and he listened closely for any more noise. He heard the distinct sounds of you crying and his resolve broke. He immediately went to your door and knocked.

"Doll? You okay?"

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against the door. "I know, sweetheart. Please let me help you. Please."

He could hear you writhing around on the bed, whimpers of pain reaching his ears and making him tear up.

"I can't--it didn't work," you cried. "I'm so hot--it hurts."

"Please, baby," Bucky begged. He placed his hand on the doorknob, dying to turn it and get to you.

"Bucky," you whimpered.

The pain in that one simple word made his decision for him. He turned the knob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He opened the door a crack, but kept his eyes away from the bed.

"Let me help you," he pleaded again.

Your eyes roamed his gorgeous figure and you let out a choked sob. Nothing else mattered in that moment--all you could think about was him.

"Make it stop," you begged him.

Bucky's eyes snapped open, meeting yours in a desperately hungry look. He didn't say a word, didn't even allow his brain to process the deeper meaning of what he was about to do. You'd asked him to help you--to stop the pain--so that was exactly what he was going to do.

He stripped out of his tactical suit as fast as possible, leaving himself in his boxer briefs, cock straining to be set free.

You reached out a hand to him and he went to you without a thought. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you as his eyes scanned your face.

"Are you sure about this, doll?" he asked softly.

"I need you," you whimpered back.

Those three little words shattered the sliver of resolve he'd had left. His lips met yours in a hungry, devouring kiss--all teeth and tongue. His hands latched onto your soft curves, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

Everywhere he touched felt like ice against your burning skin. The sensation both incredible and painful all at once. Whatever bit of shyness or insecurity you had was wiped away by the sheer intensity of it all.

Bucky's lips attacked your neck, your jaw, your collarbone--nipping and sucking bruising marks into your skin. While it felt good, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Need more."

Bucky nudged his knee between your legs to spread them wider for him. "I know, baby. I know."

He quickly descended down to your aching core, blowing hot air against it in a teasing manner. You whined and scratched at his scalp, reminding him this was not the time for teasing.

He flicked his tongue between your pussy lips, seeking out your clit immediately. The second his tongue brushed against it, you cried out in pleasure--the first real feeling of relief you'd had since you'd been infected.

Bucky smiled to himself as he settled in to properly feast on your pussy, reveling in the essence of you against his tongue, invading all of his senses.

You gripped his hair in one hand and the sheet in the other, gyrating wildly as Bucky ate you with abandon. The pleasure was blinding, but you could still feel the undercurrent of raging fire flowing through your veins.

Bucky seemed to instinctively know exactly what you enjoyed, following your body like he had a roadmap to your pleasure points. He sent you over the edge with ease three times before finally coming up for air.

You reached for him, still hungry for more. "Bucky."

"I'm here, baby." He kissed you deeply, hands gripping your hips tightly. He wanted to take his time with you, but he knew he couldn't--you needed more from him and you needed it now.

He was quick to discard his underwear before lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your aching hole and you both moaned.

"Please, please, please, please..." you begged.

Bucky knew what you needed and he wasted no time sheathing himself inside of you. You cried out in pain as his cock stretched you more than you'd ever experienced before. The pain quickly subsided into pleasure and the pollen seemed to sense its purpose was near.

You felt a surge of need and you begged him to fuck you. "I need it, please, Bucky."

"I've got you, sweetheart." He began to thrust gently, trying his best not to hurt you. The sensations began to overwhelm him as much as they were overwhelming you, prompting him to move faster--losing himself in the feeling of you.

"Fuck, baby. You take my cock so well."

Your pussy fluttered in response, a soft whine escaping your lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had. So tight and wet for me. Made for me, weren't you?"

You nodded rapidly, not really registering what he was saying.

"How many times you think I can make you cum, baby? Six? Seven? Think the pollen can get you there?"

Your eyes widened at his words. Unsure if that was possible even with pollen.

Bucky grinned down at you. "I think I can get seven. Bet this pussy will give me whatever I want, won't she? Gonna make my girl scream my name all night long."

You felt the coil in your belly snap as another orgasm rushed through you. You clung to Bucky, a string of profanity spilling past your lips.

Bucky didn't let you come down from it before pushing your body towards another orgasm. He wanted to feel you gripping his cock like this as long as possible--especially since he might never feel it again.

"Baby, you feel so good," he murmured, placing soft kisses to your face. "Love the way you're squeezing me."

"Feels so good, Bucky," you moaned.

"Fuck, been wanting to hear you say that for so long. Needed to be inside this tight little pussy so badly. It's better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wanted to ask what he meant--if he'd really imagined it, but you were too far gone to articulate a coherent thought.

As another orgasm crashed into you, you momentarily wondered if it was possible to die from overwhelming pleasure. You'd been in so much pain for so long and the sudden change to blinding pleasure was incredible. It was unlike anything you'd ever experienced.

"How many more can you give me, sweetheart?"

"Wanfeelcum," you mumbled incoherently.

"What was that, baby? Too fucked out to speak?"

"Wanna feel you cum, Bucky," you begged.

He was already so close to the edge he nearly lost control at the sound of your voice. But if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want this to end. He was scared if he came, if he gave you what you needed, then you'd be satiated and it would all be over.

"Need to feel you cum on my cock at least one more time, baby."

You whimpered, but nodded your consent.

Bucky picked up the pace, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. You weren't sure whether it was the pollen or his skill, but you went flying over the edge of blinding pleasure with an intensity you'd never experienced. You screamed his name as the waves crashed over you, pussy gushing juices as you squirted all over his cock and abdomen.

"Fuck yeah, baby. So fucking sexy..." he murmured. "Gonna fill you up. Give you what you want."

"Want your cum," you begged.

"That's right, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum. Fill up this sweet pussy till you're stuffed."

"Yes, Bucky! Please!"

Bucky's hips stuttered as he came, filling your pussy with ropes of warm cum. Bucky kept thrusting slowly as he whispered your name into your skin over and over like a prayer.

Slowly, the haze created by the sex pollen began to fade, leaving you completely blissed out. Awareness of what you'd done began to creep in, but the feel of Bucky's weight on top of you kept you in the moment.

He finally slowed to a halt, but his lips were still pressing into your hot skin. After several more moments, he raised himself up just enough to kiss you sweetly, making sure you felt his adoration.

The moment he rolled off you, the full weight of what you'd done hit you like a ton of bricks. If your body would have cooperated, you would have turned over onto your side, curled up in a ball, and cried.

Bucky felt the sudden shift in your demeanor and he felt his heart clench in his chest. "(Y/N/N)..."

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Surprise lit up his face. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that--I'm so sorry."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." He sat up a little so he could look down at your face. You wouldn't meet his gaze, but he continued anyway. "Don't you dare think for a single second that I did something I didn't want to do. You were in pain and I couldn't let that stand. I would do anything for you, (Y/N). Anything. I don't regret it and I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Your eyes finally raised to meet his and you saw nothing but honesty in his gaze. You knew he cared about you, but you were still worried you'd crossed a line neither of you could come back from.

Bucky stared at your face, taking in just how incredibly beautiful you were. He was trying to commit it to memory--never wanting to forget any bit of it.

"Thank you," you whispered.

Bucky shook his head. "You don't have to thank me, doll. Like I said, I wanted to." He paused for a moment, a silent war raging inside of him. He seemed to make a decision and once he did, the words just flowed from his mouth. "I mean it, (Y/N). I've wanted to for years--wanted you for years. I never wanted it to happen like this, but fuck baby...here we are. I would do anything you asked of me, okay? I'll rip my own heart out and light it on fire if you ask me to. So if you ask me to pretend this never happened, I will, but I need you to know I don't want to. I want to make love to you over and over again, hear you scream my name, watch your beautiful face as you fall apart for me...I want you. I will always want you."

You were completely breathless by the time he stopped talking. The words coming out of his mouth weren't what you'd ever expected to hear. "You want me?"

"I've always wanted you. Every part of you. Inside and out."

"What about all the other women?"

"What?"

"The ones you bring home all the time."

He touched your face gently, turning your head to look at him directly. "They're fine for a night, but they're not you. They were a poor substitute for the woman I really wanted, but couldn't have."

"Bucky..."

He looked a little crestfallen, mistaking your tone for rejection. "It's okay if you don't feel the same--"

Your hand gently pressed against his lips, shutting him up instantly. "If I could move properly, I would have kissed you to shut you up."

His eyes lit up and a small smile played on his lips.

"Of course I feel the same. Of course I want you. I only pushed you away tonight because I didn't want to lose you. I was afraid you would regret it."

He leaned down so he was inches away from your lips. "Oh sweetheart, I could never regret anything to do with you."

Your lips curled up in a sweet smile. "Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"Any chance we can make love? I wanna be in the moment...really in it."

"Right now?" he asked in surprise.

You nodded.

His lips met yours in a loving kiss. "I'm more than happy to oblige."

You grinned as he rolled back on top of you, lips pressing against yours hungrily.

"I'll make love to you as many times as you want. Whatever you want, I'll give you. Just ask."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

You smirked slowly. "Then I might have some ideas..."

"Oh really?"

"Oh yes." You pulled his face down to yours to whisper some of your inner desires into his ear.

"My god," he murmured. "You're gonna be the death of me."

You laughed lightly and he joined in before pulling you in for a passionate kiss, dead-set on giving you everything you wanted and more.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader smut #plus size reader smut #plus size reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #sex pollen

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romerona · 4 months ago

Text

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

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justmymindandstuff · 5 months ago

Text

crushing worry - Cregan Stark x TargaryenReader

summary: You are happy and in love with your husband Cregan Stark. The birth of your first child is imminent. But something changes in Cregan and suddenly you feel overwhelmed by his protectiveness. Your husband seems to have forgotten that you are a dragon princess, you are not made out of glass.

words: 4.980

warnings: bad communication/ miscommunication, angst, arguments, kind of domestic violence (reader hits Cregan), kind of canon typical misogyny, talking about death, talking about death in childbirth.

a/n: Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and described with black hair// no use of Y/N// english is not my first language // not proofread// AO3

have fun and be kind 🧡

requests are open// main masterlist// hotd masterlist

You run across the snow-covered courtyard of Winterfell, snowflakes caught in your black hair, your cheeks are slightly red from the cold.

Fortunately, you are not freezing, the blood of the dragon flows in your veins, and this blood flows hot, so the cold doesn't bother you.

You are looking for your husband, Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell. A raven from your mother from King's Landing has arrived with the announcement that she will send him fifty men for the Wall. You know that Cregan will be pleased about it. Equipping the Wall with capable men is important for the security of the North and all the Seven Kingdoms.

You walk past the stables and through the archway of the inner wall, and finally, you see Cregan. He is currently coordinating the arrival of a new firewood shipment.

You can't help but have to smile everytime you see him. Your heart is full of love, sometimes you can't believe how happy you are.

When you flew to Winterfell with your dragon your task was to win the North for your mother's claim, just as your twin brother Jace was supposed to do with the Vale. But when you first saw the Lord of Winterfell, it was love at first sight. His character, kind, honorable, warm-hearted, only made you fall harder. And fortunately for you, Cregan felt the same way. Before you set off south again to fight the war, you took him as your husband in the Godswood of Winterfell. Your mother was angry after learning the news but only for five minutes, then you reminded her of her sudden marriage to Daemon and assured her that you married out of love. Rhanyra then agreed to your marriage. It was too late anyway, Cregan and you had made your vows before the old gods and the marriage was consummated. After the war was won, you and your husband returned to Winterfell. Every day you are grateful to all the gods for your happiness.

Your hand rests on the slight swelling of your belly, in a few months you would bring your child into the world. You hope for a girl, Cregan doesn't care, Rickon of course wishes for a little brother.

"My Lord." you call across the courtyard to get Cregans attention. He turns at the sound of your voice, you walk towards him.

"My Lady." he greets you with a warm smile and reaches for your hand. His eyebrows knit together. "You are ice-cold, sweetheart." he reaches for the hood of your cloak and pulls it over your head. "Go back inside."

"I don't even notice the cold," you wave it off. "Besides, I have a letter from my mother." you hold out the roll to him. He takes it and quickly reads the few lines.

"She sends 50 men and a dragon egg north." he summarizes, but his voice sounds more annoyed than cheerful.

"Those are great news." you squeeze his hand. "Men trained in King's Landing and a dragon egg for the cradle. I was already worried that Mother wouldn't allow me to continue the family tradition so far away from King's Landing, but our child will have their own hatchling and bond with a dragon, just like me and Abraxas did." you beam at Cregan. His mouth twists into a narrow smile and he nods, as if he would acknowleg the blacksmith's report.

"Are you mad at me?" you ask, a bit confused by his weak reaction. For weeks, he has been worried because just before winter, he can hardly find men in the north who are willing to took the black.

At your question, his gaze immediately softens. "No, of course not." he replies quickly, then looks around and waves a guard over. "I just have a few things to take care of, and while this news is pleasant, it's not so important that you had to show it to me immediately. You shouldn´t have come out just for that."

You roll your eyes a bit annoyed. You know that your mother's answer wasn't super important, you were just happy and wanted to share the good news with Cregan, he's been a bit tense in the past few weeks. "That didn't cause me any trouble. I just thought you'd be happy." you say.

"I am happy about the good news." he assures you once more, stroking your cheek, the leather of his gloves cold, yet you lean into his touch. Cregan kisses your forehead gently. "However, please go back inside now, it's too cold for you and the child."

You have to suppress a laugh, nevertheless you are still touched by his concern. "Our little puppy is doing well," you say and place your hand back on your belly. As if to confirm, you notice the child in your belly moving slightly.

"Don't argue with me." his voice is a bit harsher this time, it's the tone of Lord Stark. He rarely speaks to you like that. He turns to the guard, who has dutifully awaited his lord's orders. "Please escort Lady Stark inside, and make sure she stays there."

Your jaw tightens slightly and you want to complain, but you stop yourself. Cregan would be furious if you would question his authority and discuss his orders in public. Still you wrench your hand from his, spin around dramatically, and stomp back inside. Just because you don't argue doesn't mean he shouldn't notice that you're angry.

In the evening, Cregan acts as if nothing happened. You are too tired to argue, so you decide to forget about the incident in courtyard and blame it on Cregan having a bad day.

You also don't have time to argue with your husband over such trivial matters. You have duties as Lady Stark. And your little puppy needs more and more of your energy. You get tired more quickly, need more breaks. Today your bed looks much more inviting than the letters and scrolls on your desk, but Winterfell's household doesn't manage itself. Your original plan was to only answer a few letters today, but once you sat down, you just kept going, your quill scratches across the parchment, you are engrossed in your work and don't even notice how time flies. When your husband opens the door, you flinch in surprise.

"My love, what are you doing here so early?" you ask, surprised, Cregan unfortunately rarely finds time to retreat before sunset to your shared chambers. He laughs warmly and shakes the slush off his boots before he takes off his cloak and steps into the warmth of your chambers.

"My sweetheart, the day is almost over." he laughs, comes over to you, kisses your forehead first, then places his finger under your chin and kisses your lips. Butterflies are swirling in your stomach and a smile comes to your lips.

"Oh. I was so engrossed in the work," you say, leaning back a little in your chair. Cregan laughs warmly again as he lays down his sword and takes his place at the fire. He pours himself and you a glass of wine.

"Why are you working here?" asks Cregan, he doesn't like it when you sit here and word. The private chambers are not for work he often says. At the sound of his father's gentle voice, the child in your belly moves and kicks vigorously. You exhale heavily to ease the pain, but the joy of the life under your heart and the firm kick is far more greater than your pain, so you don´t mind. You place your hand on your belly. When you look back at Cregan, he has slightly raised his eyebrows, looking at you with concern.

"I swear I just wanted to write a letter to my mother, but the Maester came and brought me the books I needed, so I thought I'd save myself the trip." you shrug, stand up a bit awkwardly, and want to go to Cregan to at least spend the last hours of this day with your beloved. Another strong kick from your child makes you stop and lean slightly on the table. Cregan is on his feet, the chair scrapes across the stone floor as his suddenly move, and you grimace slightly at the sound.

"Is everything alright?" his voice sounds tense. Quickly, you give him a smile.

"Yes. Your child only kicks like a wildling." Cregan starts to laugh, even though the worry doesn't completely disappear from his face. In the past few weeks, that has never happened. He has been walking around with that serious expression all the time. It annoys you a little. Why can't he be completely happy about your child? You push the thoughts aside and want to end the day and sit with him, but your gaze lingers on the stack of books. You should return them first, you know yourself. If you don't take care of it immediately, the books would still be lying here in weeks. And Winterfell's Maester is too respectful to bother his Lady Stark over a few books, even if he needes them.

So you lift the stack of books to bring them back to the Maester. Cregan is immediately by your side.

"I will take them." he says, already reaching for the books.

"It's fine." you laugh and try to push past him.

"You shouldn't lift so heavy."

Heavy? It's just a few books? A little annoyed, you push Cregan's hands away. "I told you, it's fine. I can handel a few books."

"I know you can. But you don't have to. Besides, the way up to the tower is long, and the outer stairs are probably frozen. I'll take care of it. Please, Lady Wife. Sit down at the fire, put your feet up and wait here. I'll be right back."

His concern almost brings tears to your eyes, he takes the books a bit to firmly out of your hand and nods towards the fireplace.

You admit defeat. "Very well, my Lord Husband," you say, kissing him on the cheek and sitting down in your seat. The warm fire makes you relax immediately, you stretch your legs and enjoy your wine while your husband sets off to take the books where they belong.

The last few days have been beautiful, the sun even provides a bit of warmth, and the sky is brilliantly blue. Of course, you took advantage of the good weather and went to the village with Rickon. At the market, everyone is happy to see their Lady Stark and little Rickon, the merchants are friendly, the women give you tips for your pregnancy and birth, and Rickon gets a new set of wooden toys. He runs through the stalls, and you slowly follow him. You notice that everyday tasks are becoming more exhausting due to your growing belly. But even these small inconveniences do not dampen your excitement for your baby. You talk to the villagers about their worries, whether there are any problems that you or Cregan can help with, or even just about how the winter flowers are starting to bloom or how the last hunt went well so the meat prices are low. When you have looked at all the market stalls, you take Rickon's hand again and head back to Winterfell. A few meters before the drawbridge, he lets go of your hand, gives you a light nudge, and runs off.

"Catch me," he calls out as his short legs carry him away slowly. You have to laugh, wait a moment, and then start the chase. You caught up with him in just a few steps and slowed your pace again, pretending to have trouble catching him. The boy laughs joyfully and runs in a zigzag to escape you.

"You are just too fast." you call out, feigning annoyance.

"Yes, as fast as your dragon mama." Rickon calls over his shoulder and then runs onto the castle courtyard, the guards immediately stepping out of the way for the heir of Winterfell. You run after him, catch up to him, lift him up while running, and spin both of you in circles. Rickon laughs in your arms, and when you set him back on the ground, he stumbles slightly. When he finds his balance again, he whirls around to you.

"You cheated." he shouts.

"No, you just lost," you laugh. The little boy pouts, his competitive nature coming to the surface. He jumps forward, lightly hits you on the stomach, and shouts loudly.

"You are it again." but before he can run off again, Cregan's voice rings over the courtyard.

"RICKON!" the tone makes not only the addressed boy flinch but you too. Cregan storms across the yard, his gaze consumed with rage. Rickon recoils in shock, and you quickly wrap an arm around him, pulling him close, ready to protect him from his father's unusual anger. Yes, Cregan has a rough parenting style as a Northerner, but he is never unfair and, above all, he rarely shouts. He stands in front of you, turning directly to Rickon. "You can't play so wildly! You have to be careful and above all, it is never under no circumstances allow to hit your mother." his voice is still too loud. You notice how Rickon starts to tremble.

"It was nothing. We played tag, he doesn´t hit me." you try to calm Cregan.

He turns his gaze towards you. "I explained to him that he shouldn't play with you so wildly, preferably not at all anymore!" you are glad that he at least doesn't scream anymore, still he makes you angry.

"But husband..." you start again. You can't understand his extreme reaction. You know he doesn't like it when Rickon misbehaves, but Cregan mustn't forget that the boy is still young. He must be allowed to be a child, even if he will one day be the Lord of Winterfell.

Cregan interrupts you. "Rickon, go to your chambers, you will stay there until dinner."

"Yes, Father," he says, the boy quietly, turns away, and runs inside; you heard the tremor in his voice.

"You were so strict," you say, crossing your armes before your chest. You trie to control your rising anger.

"No. He didn't follow my instructions, he must be punished." Cregan waves it off, comes to you, and gently puts his arm around you. But you are angry with him, so you push him away. Your husband looks at you in surprise.

"He can't play tag anymore? What kind of stupid instruction is that?"

Cregan looks down at you, slightly shakes his head. "Of course he can play tag. Just not with you."

You stare at him in confusion. What's wrong with him? "For what reason?"

"It's too dangerous. Rickon doesn't know that he has to be careful not to hurt you and the baby. "

"Cregan, it doesn't make any sense what you're saying..." you begin. You are very sure that Rickon can indeed gauge his strength in relation to you, and besides, it's not like the boy is constantly jumping on your belly while playing. You were just playing tag, for the gods' sake. You absolutely cannot understand Cregan's problem. You want an explanation for his behavior, but Cregan is talking over you.

"Please, sweetheart, go now and rest. It's not good for you to be running around outside." he kisses your forehead, pulls your cloak a little tighter around you, and then turns away to return to his work.

You stay behind in the yard and just stare after him. Anger and frustration rise within you. You don't need any damn protectors watching your every step. You are pregnant, not sick. Cregan acts as if every step costs you so much strength that you endanger the baby. And then treating Rickon like that? Why is he so strict with the boy? Annoyed with your husband, you still follow his instructions and go inside, heading straight to the children's wing. Rickon is supposed to stay in his room, but that doesn't mean you can't be there too and read him something.

Cregan's behavior is getting stranger and stranger.

As you wanted to take a bath, the water was only lukewarm, the maid told you that Lord Stark had given this instruction. You know that she is only following her lord's orders, so you don't argue. You bring it up with Cregan, but he waves it off and says the Maester recommended a lower bathing temperature, also because you always bathe in nearly boiling water. You are of the blood of the dragon, of corse your bath is hot.

Three days later, two new guards and a squire suddenly appear at your door in the morning. Lord Stark has given the order that we must accompany you, always. Not even a damn letter can you receive without the squire jumping forward and holding it for you.

Cregan, of course, won't listen to reason. Everything is for your safety, so you can rest. It´s his favorite argument now: you have to rest. You can't hear that word anymore!

You're doing fine! Yes, it's exhausting to carry your ever-growing belly around with you, but it's not like you have to climb the wall up and down every day. And your beloved husband won´t listen to you. It´s make you so angry that you want to scream at him, but everytime you raise your voice Cregans begs you to calm down and rest.

Today, you finally managed to sneak away from your guards and hopped on for a flight on Abraxas 's back. The cold wind blows in your face, your heartbeat synchronizes with Abraxas 's even wingbeats, and as you both break through the cloud cover, you finally feel free again. Your Dragon lets out a cheerful whistle and turns directly into the wind, gliding smoothly through the sky and you can't help but laugh. The child in your belly kicks hard and moves. You are sure that it is also happy. After all, your child, like you, is of the blood of the dragon, and being here on dragonback is as natural for you as breathing. You take a longer route, but before noon, you land Abraxas back on the outer wall of Winterfell. You can almost hear Cregan's voice in your ear. Just don't get her used to it, when she gets bigger she'll tear down the whole keep. But now, your dragon is still young enough, and you are still angry with your husband.

Abraxas bends her front leg deeply, lowers her body more to the side, so that despite your big belly, you have no trouble sliding off your saddle and landing gently on the ground. Your dragon turns its head towards you, and you stroke its nose. Your child kicks hard again and you flinch slightly. Carefully, Abraxas nudges your hand, bringing a smile to your face.

"Don't worry, my girl, it won't be long until we fly together, you, me, and the little puppy"

Anticipation spreads within you, even though you can't get your big pup Cregan to climb onto a dragon's back, your child will be a Targaryen, a dragon rider.

This very husband is running towards you. He seems to be very angry with you. At least his face is contorted with rage and his steps are heavy as he storms towards you.

"Are you out of your mind?" he roars. You take a step back, Abraxas bares his teeth as Cregan approaches.

"The wall is still intact," you say, rolling your eyes.

"I don´t give a fuck about this wall right now. A dragonflight? In your condition? Don't you realize what could have happened?"

A good wife would have taken a deep breath, calmed her husband, and perhaps even apologized for the circumstances. But today you are not a good wife. You've had enough now. Your frustration reaches its boiling point and you scream in anger. "Nothing could have happened. What is that even supposed to mean? I'm not a little child that you have to coddle."

Of course, heads are turning in your direction; it is rare for Lord and Lady Stark to argue, and even more so in public. No, normally the people of Winterfell have to settle for the servants' gossip, but not today. You don't care how many people are listening to you.

"You go inside right now, and your dragon will be chained up." yells your husband and waves a guard over.

"How dare you!" you shout.

"I dare because a dragon flight is too dangerous. You might not understand it now, but I'm doing this for your own good."

You snort contemptuously. "I won't let anyone stop me from dragon riding." you stomp your foot.

"You will obey my commands." Cregan trembles with rage, clenches his jaw, and does not take a single step back. Not even when Abraxas hisses behind you and flaps her wings, causing the snow around you to swirl.

"By what right does the wolf command over the dragon?" you cry, hot rage inside your veins.

"By the right of the old gods and the new, and every damned Valyrian god. I am your husband, you carry my child in your womb. You do what I say. And I said get inside and no more dragon flying. I'm not going to discuss this. You either go inside voluntarily or by force. choose."

You notice tears welling up in your eyes, he has never spoken to you like this before. Never command you like this. What is happening to him? What is happening to you beloved husband. Abrax behind you roars angrily, rears up, and you feel her take a breath to set all of Winterfell ablaze.

"lykirī Abraxas." your Dragon obeys, so you turn to the guards. "Whoever touches my dragon will burn." you say, your voice sounds weak, without another look at your husband you pass by him and go to your chambers.

The door doesn't even close properly before it's pushed open again. You know it's Cregan. But you don't turn around. The door slams shut, silence spreads. You feel hot tears running down your cheek, you can't suppress a sob.

"Sweetheart." you feel his hand on your shoulder, his voice is as sweet as honey. As if you had made a mistake, as if you were the one who had to ask for forgiveness. Anger boils up again, you spin around. Your hand hits his cheek as hard as you can. Cregan flinches, even though you're sure it hurt you more than him. You have to open and close your fist a few times, but the pain still throbs. Cregan's jaw tightens, yet he swallows his anger. "Sweetheart, please, you've already gotten worked up enough. You need to .."

"If you say rest now, I'll kill you. I don't need to rest. I'm doing well. I am healthy. I don't understand what's wrong with you. I can hardly recognize you anymore." you scream at him. Frustration, anger, despair rise up inside you.

You start pacing back and forth, Cregan's eyes follow you, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He wants to say something, but you don't let him.

"I am not a damsel in distress. I am a Targaryen of the blood of the dragon. I do not need you to watch over me like a hen. And I certainly won't let anyone forbid me from riding my dragon." you roar angrily.

You never would have thought that you would ever have such a discussion with your husband. Your heart breaks a little at the thought.

Cregan, however, does not back down. He doesn't scream, but his voice is full of suppressed anger and trembles slightly.

"It's the best for you. I am still your husband, and if I believe it is right for you to stay inside and be safe, then you have to do it."

Annoyed, you groan, "I'm safe with Abraxas too." frustrated, you throw your hands in the air. Why doesn't he want to understand that?

"No! No, you're not," he suddenly yells again, but now there's something different in his voice, not pure anger but despair. "You must understand that you are only safe when you rest and gather your strength. Only then can you survive. You have to survive."

You stop in the middle of your movement, have to blink a few times as your brain processes the information. Your anger dissipates as you finally understand where his strange behavior comes from, everything falls into place. Cregan is not angry, and he is not just afraid. Cregan is panicking.

"You..." you have to swallow, tears form in your eyes. You look at Cregan, but he stares at the ground in front of you. "Cregan, look at me." he hesitates for a moment longer and then looks at you, his whole body trembling, tears welling up in his eyes, his breath quickening, and he chews on the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from crying. "You think I'm going to die in childbirth." your voice is no louder than a whisper.

Cregan takes two quick steps towards you, open his armes as if to pull you into a hug, but hesitates. You take the final step and pull him into a tight embrace. Your hands caress his neck as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, you feel tears on your skin, hear his quiet sobs.

"I couldn't do it. I can't do it again. Arra, when she died, I thought I could never be happy again. But then I saw you and I immediately fell in love. I knew this was my second chance at happiness. And sweetheart, I am happier than I have ever been in my life." you can hardly understand him, his voice trembling so much. Carefully, he separates himself from you. Wipes his face. "I can't lose you too. I would die."

You take a deep breath, trying to hold back your own tears. Why didn't he share his worries with you? His entire behavior suddenly makes sense. He just had to talk to you.

"You won't lose me. I will not die. I am healthy and strong," you try to ease his worry. You would like to promise him, but you can't.

"That was Arra too, yet she still died. Please, if you rest, then you will have enough strength."

"I have the strength. I can survive birth."

He shakes his head slightly. "And what if not?"

You suppress a sigh, have to try another way. "When you ride onto the battlefield, what do you say to your men? Do you promise them to survive?"

Cregan has to blink a few times, he is confused by the sudden change of topic, you can see it in his eyes. "Of course not. I can't do that."

"Are you sure you can survive every fight?"

"No, I'm not."

"Nevertheless, you ride out to battle." "

Of course. It is my duty."

"And the birthing bed is my duty. My battlefield. And trust in me, husband, that I will survive this battle. I understand your concern. Believe me, I really understand you, but it doesn't help me if you lock me up. I am a Targaryen princess. I am strong and I have my bond with my dragon from which I can draw strength. I have enough strength and I can fight if there are problems during childbirth. I will fight for you, for our child, for Rickon. I will not leave you alone. I will not die. But I need you by my side. You have to support me." carefully, you place a hand on his cheek. Cregan presses his forehead against yours, takes a deep breath.

"I can't stop worrying," he whispers.

"You don't have to. Neverless, don't let your worry crush you, don't let your worry crush us."

"I'm sorry. I just thought, if you rest." his voice is trembling again. You silence him with a kiss.

"I will rest. But I will not let you locke me away."

Cregan nods. "I should have talked to you. I'm sorry. I was just so paralyzed by my fear. I dreamed of your death, over and over again."

You have to swallow. Your heart breaks at the thought that he is suffering so much.

"It's okay. You have to believe in me."

"I believe in you," he says quickly.

"Then also believe that I can survive. And promise me that you will never shut yourself off from me like that again. Cregan, I love you, but your behavior wasn´t okay. You can't treat me like this."

"I know. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

You nod, give him a smile, and take a deep breath. "I have a compromise. I will not ride dragons until the child is born, but in return, I will get my hot baths back." C

regan has to laugh quietly. "Bath as hot as you want, sweetheart." he concedes.

You kiss his lips again. "Next time, talk to me and don't act like a huge idiot."

"Yes my Lady I Promise." he leans down, kisses your lips as if it were your last kiss. "The worry won't go away, though."

"I know. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, until then I'll rest a bit and you try not to control everything. Deal?"

"Deal. I will support you from now on. I am by your side, all the time." it sounds like a vow.

Cregan keeps this vow, the rest of your pregnancy goes smoothly, and even though the birth is exhausting and the most painful thing you have ever experienced, you bring a healthy girl into the world while Cregan holds your hand.

#cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #cregan stark fanfic #house stark #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd

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lqveharrington · 12 days ago

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Don’t Blame Me | F.W.

summary: you’re in a forbidden relationship with fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x malfoy!reader

includes: mild cursing, fluff, forbidden relationship, draco loves his sister, fred being the sweetest boyfriend

wc: 1.3k+

a/n: i figured out how to write again, lol

For the longest time, you didn’t believe in love at first sight.

After years of hearing the romanticized tale of your parents falling for each other the instant they met, you always found the idea overly sentimental—impossible, even. Besides, you were 99% sure Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were promised to each other before they were even born. Whether they grew to love each other didn’t change the fact that love at first sight sounded like fiction—a reckless, illogical fantasy.

But all that changed the moment Fred Weasley didn’t just walk—but staggered—into your life.

It was the start of the fifth year, and Flitwick had just begun his lesson when your eyes met Fred's across the classroom. Something shifted inside you. A spark. A jolt. A switch flipping on in a pitch-dark room you didn’t even know existed.

It was strange, falling for a boy like him so quickly—especially him. You had trained yourself to ignore the Weasleys and anyone your family deemed "beneath" you, raised on the belief that power and blood status defined worth. But when you truly saw Fred—his natural talent in Charms, his wicked sense of humor, his unapologetic joy—it became impossible not to fall.

Suddenly, the world was brighter, sharper, more alive. Everything burned hotter and faster. You’d spent years guarding your heart behind iron walls, fortified by cynicism and caution. But Fred didn’t knock. He didn’t ask. He shattered every barrier within seconds.

His laughter made you laugh. His hugs wrapped you in warmth. His kisses—quick and stolen before Filch could round a corner—left you dazed, breathless. Everything he did made your heart swell with something terrifying and beautiful. Something that changed you completely.

Your friends told you you weren’t yourself anymore—and deep down, you knew they were right.

If this wasn’t love, then it was something more dangerous. Something addictive. Something divine.

And you didn’t want to be saved.

Of course, Draco had thoughts about your relationship. He was your brother, after all. But even he couldn’t stop you—not after he saw the way Fred made you laugh, how you glowed with happiness. Sure, he still sneered at the Weasleys, but he was protective of you above all else. A petty house rivalry wouldn’t outweigh your joy in his mind.

The real problem was your parents.

You and Fred had been together officially since the end of the fifth year. Draco only found out because he caught Fred shamelessly kissing you in the dungeon corridors. He wasn’t a snitch by any means, but it was painfully obvious to both Lucius and Narcissa that something had changed. Narcissa’s constant questions about whether you’d “found someone suitable” were getting harder to dodge.

It was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

Draco, always one to stir the pot, made sure to remind you. “How long do you plan on hiding that oaf from Mother and Father?” he asked, tone laced with mild disgust—completely ignoring the fact that Fred was walking beside you and could clearly hear him.

You rolled your eyes at his childishness. He was only fourteen, but still, the dramatics were tiring. You glanced over and met Draco’s blue eyes—annoyed, but with a flicker of concern. He always tried to mask that part.

You sighed. “I was thinking either never…” You smirked, glancing at Fred. “Or, you know, Freddie and I could elope—”

“Or you could not.” Draco glared at you and then at Fred, who was grinning smugly. Draco still wanted to be at your wedding, even if it meant dealing with the entire Weasley clan. But he couldn’t resist taking a jab at you. “Besides, how are you so sure you’re going to marry Weasley anyway?”

“I won’t hesitate to hex you, Draco,” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him. Fred chuckled from behind you, and you whirled to face him, jabbing a manicured finger against his chest. “I’ll hex you too, Weasley. You two better learn to get along, I swear.”

“I’m trying!” Fred placed one hand over his heart and raised the other like a Boy Scout, tilting his head toward Draco. “Your brother isn’t.”

Draco crossed his arms, eye twitching as Fred stared him down. “Excuse me for looking out for—”

“Go.” You pointed to the Slytherin entrance with a cocked brow, and he rolled his eyes, obeying your command. You waited until the stone wall sealed shut before turning back to Fred with a look that matched the one you’d given your brother. “Must you annoy Draco?”

“I feel like it’s my duty as your boyfriend,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. When you didn’t move, he sighed and gently pulled you to him by the waist. “Alright, alright. I’ll play nice with your twat of a brother.”

You pursed your lips, but a laugh slipped out. “You know what? Good enough.”

Fred grinned and brushed his thumb along your waist. “So what I’m hearing is… You want to go to the Astronomy Tower tonight.”

You scrunched your nose, pretending to object, but you didn’t stop him when he tugged you by the hand and led you through the castle. Both of you ran through the stone corridors, avoiding other students and professors who were too exhausted to reprimand the of you. Your laughter filled the air the faster Fred pulled you along, the sweeter music to his ears.

Especially when your laughter switched to giggles. You began to giggle when he picked you up halfway up the stairs to the Astronomy Tower, pretending to be annoyed with him when he made it his goal to carry you the rest of the way up.

“I can walk, you know,” you huffed, resting your chin on your palm as you looked down, lips turning up at your view. “Nice arse, Weasley.”

“Says you,” he said smugly, giving your backside a playful tap before setting you down on the platform and helping you stabilize.

You breathed in the fresh air and leaned against the railing, smiling when the breeze blew through your hair freely. You loved the Astronomy Tower because you could see everything Hogwarts had to offer from up here and you were so close to the constellations and stars your family were named after.

Fred stood beside you and admired quietly, gaze averting to your flowing hair, tilting his head and letting his fingers touch the ends of your blonde hair that faded into a dark color.

“How come your hair isn’t like your brother’s?” he asked, twirling a lock of your hair.

You hum and look over at him, your eyes softening at his gentle gaze. He quietly repeated his question, his normal boisterous self gone when he was around you.

Like you, Fred was also changed. He became gentle around you, acting more like the boy his mother raised him to be. He got so used to that personality that it bled into his everyday actions. He used to be the ringleader between him, George, and Lee, but he slowly let George and Lee take the lead the second he began to date you.

Even so, he would never stop pranking. In fact, you became the main victim of his more personal pranks.

You replied to his question, directing your gaze to the ends of your hair. “My mum’s hair is like this. I quite like it.”

“I love it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smiled to yourself and felt your heart swell. Every day, Fred had something new to say about you. No matter what he said, they were all compliments with small kisses anywhere he could reach.

Merlin, you fell fast for him and you knew he fell just as fast as you did.

You finally look up at him again after a silent moment, a teasing grin placed upon your face. “You’re so in love, it’s disgusting.”

“Yeah?” he said softly, sliding one hand to cradle your neck as he leaned closer. “What about you?”

Your voice lowered to a whisper. “You make me feel like I’m on fire.” Your arms wrapped around his neck as you gazed into his face, memorizing every freckle, every flicker of emotion in his eyes. “And I don’t want to put it out.”

Fred smiled—dangerously, beautifully—though the warmth in his eyes betrayed nothing but love. “Then burn with me.”

And you did.

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

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Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk.

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.”

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room.

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?”

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job.

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision.

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.

There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem.

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now.

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail.

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought.

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.”

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.

“Wait you’re working for SPS?”

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind.

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic.

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.”

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.”

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office.

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat.

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside.

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door.

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.

“He’s very admirable for that.”

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head.

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop.

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled.

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.”

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?”

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...”

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him.

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair.

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve.

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face.

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed.

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again.

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected.

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same.

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.”

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?”

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?”

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name.

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth.

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth.

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city?

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you.

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.”

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then.

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.”

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy.

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

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Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

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