ā¦Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!ā¦
ā¦summary: you've got a no good boyfreind. lucky bucky's here, to show you what you deserveā¦
ā¦warnings/tags: bucky barnes x female!reader, enemies to lovers, emotional angst, everyone's bad at feelings, cheating (not by bucky, it's deserved) fluff, big porn level smut (stripping, finger sucking, dirty talk, possessive sex, praise kink, teasing, fingering, light brat taming, softdom!bucky, pussy spanking, dumbification, making out, sensitive reader, manhandling, bucky gets nasty, blowjobs, body worship, oral f!reciving overstimulation, mean!bucky, degradation kink, big dick bucky, creampie, he fucks like a machine), no use of y/n, no descrption of readerā¦
ā¦wc: 8.6kā¦
ā¦Author's Note: request! oh to be yearned after by bucky barnes in a kinda toxic but really hot wayā¦
āWhat the fuck is his problem?ā
You donāt have to look, to figure out who your boyfriend is talking about. You can feel his glare from across the room, burning over your skin like a brand, making your leg bounce and your fingers pick restlessly at the label on your drink.
Bucky Barnes.
He always stares at you. It doesnāt matter if youāre hanging out at Steveās placeātechnically Buckyās place as well, but you refuse to give him any sort of credit about thatāor getting coffee, or at the movies, or here, in another bar on a Friday night, trying to wash the week down with a drink, Bucky stares at you like heās trying to kill you. Itās the kind of stare youād find creepy from anyone else. A knit brow and heavy breathing, like just the sight of you makes him want to rip his head off. You glare back when you can, but tonight, youāre determined to ignore it. Ignore him.
Bucky can be as pretty and charming as he wants, heās not getting a rise out of you. Not one that he can see, at least. When you got to the bar, he drawled your name and teased you about your drink, but you just grabbed your boyfriendās hand and dragged him across the room without a look over your shoulder.
Maybe one look.
One look that Brock didnāt have to see, because heās always accusing you and Bucky of having something. Youāve tried to explain to him that whatever something he thinks exists between you and Barnes is just the negative space of pure fucking loathing, but he doesnāt listen. He never listens.
āBarnes wants to fuck you,ā heād muttered last week, after you got home, and youād rolled your eyes.
āBucky does not want to fuck me, he can barely stand to be in the same room as me-ā
āBecause he wants to fuck you,ā Brock has snapped. āI donāt want you hanging around him alone.ā
Youād scoffed. āThatās- Weāre friends-ā
āThought he hated you-ā
āHe does. But- Itās complicated.ā
And it was. Bucky was Steveās best friend, and Steve was your work husband, and Natasha was your best friend, and Steveās actual girlfriend, and Buckyās work wife, and Sam was Buckyās other best friend and work husband, and your best friendāyouād even lived together, in college, which Brock never seemed to understand the concept ofāand Steveās business partner, which made him your boss, but you Natās and BuckyāsĀ boss, and it was a tangled mess of relationships and years of history that became impossible to unweave. You and Bucky were friends because if you werenāt, you were enemies, and that always hurt right under your ribs in a way you never wanted to acknowledge.
Bucky wasnāt a bad guy. He was a stubborn ass sometimes, and he stared a lot, and got kind of judgey about stupid things, but so did you. The first time you met, youād just stared at each other forāaccording to Natashaāfive straight minutes. Once youād been at some stupid charity gala, and youād spent the whole time gossiping in the corner about the old, rich assholes who needed a party to give their endless money to a good cause. Youād thought that you were friends. Really friends. Friends that couldāve been something more, if heād asked you to be.
But he hadnāt. He never had. And youād started to butt heads more, and he didnāt ask if you were good like he used to. He avoided you at the stupid parties and didnāt ask your opinion about small things. He didnāt wait for you to go to lunch, or sit with you when you had to stay late, and suddenly the friendship had slipped through your fingers, because it had been so fast you hadnāt been given time to realize you were supposed to hold on.
Some days you wonder what you did, and you want to strangle the answer out of his pretty, thick head. You thought youād been good. Youād really thought youād been good, and then heād just gone and decided that you werenāt. That there was something about you he just couldnāt stand, and you never get to know what it was.
So if he wanted to play the hating game, youād play it, and youād win. You ignored him almost every day, only sneering back when you had a comment that you knew would land like a headshot.
āYou look comfortable,ā heād muttered last week at Natās, and youād shot him a glare.
Buckyās mouth had twitched, as youād just stared at him. He always seemed to enjoy making you want to kill him. You hope he also enjoyed it, when you actually killed him.
āNo boyfriend tonight, huh?ā Heād smirked, and you swallowed on your venom. āWhat, he off fucking strippers again?ā
Your lip had curled. Youād just kept glaring, and Bucky had laughed.
āDonāt give me that look, doll. Itās not your fault you canāt keep him satisfied-ā
āI keep him satisfied,ā youād snapped, your patience finally fraying.
And Bucky had given you a strange, tired look. It was sharp around the edges, but dull everywhere else. Almost cold. Almost exhausted.
āI bet you do,ā heād muttered, and youād snapped.
āAt least I have someone to satisfy, Barnes,ā youād hissed. āNo one can even put up with you for a one night stand.ā
Bucky had flinched, and the knot in your gut had been immediate. You told yourself you liked the second his armor shattered slightly. You liked the win. You told yourself over and over, that it was fine, because he struck first.
But your body hadnāt learned the lesson. And it felt wrong to be in your skin, whenever Bucky made that broken, vulnerable face. Like heād almost forgotten how cruel you could be. Like heād cared at all, that youād struck back.
He didnāt. You reminded yourself that he didnāt. It was complicated, because it needed to be, for the sake of explaining to Brock. But to you, it was really, painfully simple.
Youād been in a small, blooming love with Bucky. Heād recoiled and poured hatred on you like pesticide, and your loved had curled and shriveled, but never fully died. You think there might be something wrong with you, that you can harbor feelings for a man who brings you nothing but storms. You gave up on trying to understand it a long time ago. Maybe, one day, youāll tell your therapist. Youāre really hoping the love just dies first. Itās humiliating enough to feel it, let alone say it aloud.
Brock demanded he come with you tonight. To keep an eye on Barnes. You didnāt fight him, because fights with Brock arenāt something you win. He was a relationship you started before Bucky, that had been on and off and on and off for years. In the sacred months where Bucky had liked you, Brock had been off on some work trip in Germany. Heād gotten back right when Bucky had decided to hate you, and youād been a raw, vulnerable creature, just crawling on the beach for a new shell to call home. Brock had been there. Heād been a tight fight, and the love youād felt for him had soured from the joy of Bucky, but youād just needed something. And Brock had been asking you to be exclusive for years. So youād finally justā¦ given in.
Itās not a dream relationship. Sometimes you worry youāre going to marry him and have his babies, and heād make such ugly babies. You donāt want them. You donāt really see another way.
You wouldnāt mind having Buckyās babies. Thatās not a very productive thought to have.
āHe always stare this much?ā Brock asks, and you shrug.
āYeah. Maybe.ā
āYeah?ā Brock snaps. āOr maybe. Canāt be both, sweetheart.ā
āYeah and maybe,ā you mutter. āI donāt know.ā
āEither he stares or he doesnāt-ā
āHe stares, I just donāt know whatās this much-ā
āThen you should start paying fucking attention.ā
You sigh, and give Brock a tight smile. His lip curls, and his eyes narrow, and you fight the urge to flinch away.
Bucky hates you. Your boyfriend doesnāt seem to like you all that much either. He wonāt let Nat sit with you, and he certainly wonāt let Sam sit with you, so now youāre just fucking here. At the crowded bar, all but alone, even with half a dozen worried or hateful eyes on you. You only give yourself eyes for your drink.
At least you have your drink.
Youāre smiling. Laughing. Lighting up the whole bar from your little corner, and Buckyās stuck over here in the dark.
He wants to drink until he canāt anything but your face and a whole blur of colors, but he got stuck being one of the drivers. He wants to go over and sock your stupid boyfriend in the face, but that would lead to a bigger conversation he knows you donāt want to have. This is a grave he dug for himself, but it didnāt even work right. He was supposed to bury himself alive and forget about you, high above him, brighter than the sun and prettier than the sky.
Instead heās just lying in the dirt, six feet down, only able to watch you orbit around him like an angel. Itās hell. Itās torture. Itās exactly what he fucking deserves.
āYouāre sulking again,ā Steve says casually, and Bucky grunts.
āSo?ā
āItās bringing everyone down, Buck-ā
āTheyāre fine.ā
Steve sighs. He does that a lot, when it comes to you and Bucky. He sighed when Bucky told him that heād fallen in love with you. He sighed when Bucky decided you deserved better and started to push you away. He sighed when Bucky would lock himself on the fire escape for hours after parties, smoking and staring out at the city skyline until the wind was threatening to bite his skin off, and he had to be dragged inside.
Bucky knows Steve thinks heās an idiot. Hell, most days Bucky thinks heās an idiot. There isnāt a moment that passes where he doesnāt want to go back and suck up the fear, take the gamble, and just tell you heād fallen for you. Hard enough to break the sound barrier, hard enough to snap him in half before he even hit the bottom, hard enough that he was never going to be able to climb his way back up. But heās a veteran with a missing arm and a pile of baggage he canāt even shoulder some days. Youād looked at him like he was something good. Youād looked at him like you thought it couldāve been easy, to fall right back.
And Bucky couldnāt have that.
The only thing worse than never having you wouldāve been having you, and breaking you. Letting you down. Letting you love him, then letting you realize how wrong you were, to bother to try. So heād pushed you away.
Steve said that didnāt give him the right to sulk about it all the time. Steve was probably right, but Bucky sulked anyway. It was all he had, now.
That, and hating your stupid fucking boyfriend.
Brock. Dumb name. Sounded like rock. Bucky had a better name. Heād even let you call him James, like you used to. Youāre the only person that ever made Bucky sound like an insult instead of a marker of affection. He wants to go back to being James, just for you. But he canāt. Because of Brock.
āWhat does she even see in him,ā he mutters, and Steve sighs. Again.
āI donāt know, but-ā
āHeās not that good looking,ā Bucky narrows his eyes at Brock. Leaning over the table. Grabbing your arm. Bucky should be the one touching you. āHis dick is probably small.ā
āI- Uh- Yeah, sure-ā
āShe deserves better-ā
āBetter like you?ā
That makes Buckyās head snap to the side. Steve doesnāt even blink, his brows raised in almost mocking gentleness. It pisses Bucky off sometimes, how heās not allowed to be pissed at Steve.
āYou know sheās with him because he asked her, right?ā Steve says, and Bucky scowls.
āThatās not- I- He doesnāt treat her right-ā
āAnd you do?ā
Bucky tastes bile. Steve still doesnāt back down, just giving Bucky that sympathetic puppy look, and Bucky wonders if he digs himself another foot down, Steve will do him a favor and bury him alive.
āYou could just- Talk to her,ā Steve murmurs, and Bucky snorts.
āShe doesnāt care what I gotta say, Stevie-ā
āBecause you made her think you donāt care at all.ā
āI donāt care,ā Bucky snaps, louder than he means to, and Steve gives him an unimpressed look. Bucky scowls and turns back to his drink. āShut up.ā
āI didnāt say a thing-ā
āYouāre thinkinā. I can hear it.ā
Steve sighs. Buckyās going to shove a fist into his mouth, to get him to stop. āIām just saying, Buck,ā Steve murmurs. āNat thought she was finally going to get over Brock. Before you decided to be an ass to her all the time.ā
Bucky scoffs, then pauses. He didnāt actually understand what that meant. It sounded like it meant something important, something he was really supposed to understand, but for the life of him, he canāt work out why. He turns back to Steve with a frown, ready to ask what the hell that meant, but the words are drowned in aloud smash from across the bar.
Buckyās attention snaps to the side in a second, his body realizing whatās happening before his brain. Heās on his feet when Brock shouts at you, and walking when you shove Brock. He almost breaks into a sprint, when he sees Brockās hand curl into a fist. It only gets slammed on the table, but Buckyās heart still threatens to burst through his throat. The bar is crowded. Too crowded. Itās taking him too long to get to you, and Brock shouts something, and you scream something back, and some lady tries to grab Bucky to flirt, but he shoulders her off.
He almost loses you in the chaos. A door slams, and heās not sure if itās you or Brock. He looks around for Natāwherever you went, sheāll be there tooābut canāt find her. He stumbles to the table, and his mouth goes dry.
Youāre not hurt, but youāre crying. Youāre crouching against the wall, Nat petting your head and trying to calm you down. Brock is nowhere to be found. Smart move, Bucky thinks. He was seconds from getting his face knocked in.
āWhat the hell happened?ā He grunts to Nat, kneeling in front of you.
She shakes her head, lips in a thin line. āIām not sure. They started fighting, Brock smashed a glass, then just- Fucked off, I guess.ā
āWhatād they fight about-ā
āShe wonāt tell me,ā Nat sighs, and you glare at her under gorgeous, wet lashes.
āIām right here,ā you snap, and Nat gives you an apologetic smile.
āI know, but- You wonāt tell me.ā
You sniff, glancing over to Bucky, then down to the floor. āI donāt want to talk about it,ā you mutter, and Nat murmurs your name.
āWas it-ā
āYeah.ā
Nat scowls, and Bucky feels like heās being left out of something.
āNat, I-ā You grab her wrist, voice small and pleading. āI just want to go home.ā
Natashaās throat bobs, but she nods. Bucky frowns. Natās been drinking. Everyoneās been drinking except you and him, and he doesnāt think you should be driving when you canāt even get off the floor.
āIāll take her,ā he mutters, and you shoot him a poisoned glare.
āNo.ā
āListen, kid, Iām offering to help-ā
āI donāt want your help,ā you sneer, and Bucky sighs. He deserves that. He knows he does. Doesnāt make it any easier or sweeter to swallow.
Natasha mutters your name, watching Bucky from the corner of her eye. āItās either him, or an uber-ā
āUber,ā you say immediately, and Nat gives you a flat look.
āThat wasnāt a real option. Youāre going with Bucky.ā
You pout, inching away from him, and Buckyās face burns. He stares at his hands, trying to pretend he canāt hear your whispers. Trying to pretend they donāt cut into a sensitive, raw, needy part of his heart that no amount of self-inflicted burns has ever been able to steel.
āI donāt want to go with Bucky,ā you hiss at Nat, and Nat just shrugs.
āI donāt want you to be alone right now-ā
āThen you get in the Uber with me.ā Your voice is small. Almost pleading. It breaks Buckyās heart.
Nat shakes her head, voice gentle, as if youāre a wounded animal. āBucky will drop you at my place, alright? I just have to take care of something first.ā
Your nose wrinkles, but you agree. Bucky doesnāt think youāre happy about it. He can almost feel the disdain emitting from your body like radiation, as Nat helps you to Buckyās car. He decides not to tell you that Natās thing is probably hunting down Brock and killing him. Bucky would join her, if he didnāt have to deal with you. He doesnāt think thereās anything more noble. His worry is devotion. Itās a shame youāre blinder than a real god, to see it.
The drive is dead quiet. Bucky glances at the radio every few minutes, but loses the debate with him over and over to turn it on. He doesnāt want you to hate his taste in music.
You curl up against the window, as far away from him as you can get without jumping onto the freeway. Bucky drums his fingers on the wheel to fill the silence. Your breathing has steadied from short, shallow gasps, but he can still hear you sniffle every few seconds. It makes his vision line with red, and he knows heās the worst kind of hypocrite, but knowing never helped anyone. He doesnāt understand, how Brock could treat you so horribly. He doesnāt understand how youābeautiful, smart, sweet but unwavering and sharpācould tolerate it.
Bucky parks the car outside of Natās. You donāt move, and he wishes he could build the anger to make you. But you smell like vanilla and something summery, and you look like an angel in the streetlights, and all he can feel is bubbling red and green. It spills out of his mouth like vomit, before he can garner the will and kindness to shove it down.
āWhat do you see in him,ā Bucky mutters, and you look over with a frown.
You stare at him. Bucky stares back. He loves it when you do that. Itās a little off-putting, but he thinks he can tell you the truth with his eyes. Heās not sure, though, if you ever see it.
āHeās good to me,ā you mutter finally, and Bucky snorts. āHe is, donāt- Donāt fucking make that face-ā
āIām not makinā a face-ā
āYou are,ā you point at him, eyes narrowed, voice cold. āHe is good to me, Bucky.ā
Bucky raises his brows. It only seems to work you up more.
āFuck you,ā you spit. āBrock loves me, he- Heās- You just donāt see the side of him that I do-ā
āI donāt think heās got enough sides to hide anything, doll,ā Bucky drawls, and you scowl.
āYouāre just jealous.ā
Bucky recoils, fingers tightening on the wheel. āI donāt know what the hell youāre talking about,ā he grunts, and you roll your eyes.
āFuck off, itās so obvious-ā
Bucky mutters your name in warning, but you just keep going.
āYouāre jealous that someone like me could have a partner that loves them, when youāre alone. But guess what, Bucky,ā you lean forward, words spitting over Buckyās slack face. āYouāre going to die alone, and Iām not, so fuck you.ā
You push the door open, and storm out onto the street. Buckyās frozen in the drivers seat for a second, a faint ringing in his ears. Youāre right. Youāre right, and itās his fault. Not about Brockāthat piece of shit isnāt capable of love, even for someone as perfect as youābut- But-
Heās moving before he can think about why. Shoving his way out of the car and shouting your name, chasing you up the sidewalk like a madman. You ignore him. Of course you do. Itās what heās fucking earned.
āJust- Wait-ā He catches your wrist. You yank it away.
āLeave me alone, Bucky-ā
āNo, I got somethinā I wanna say-ā
āWell I donāt want to hear it-ā
āI know, I know, just-ā
āNo!ā You scream, round on him with a pointed finger, and Bucky feels something split right down his chest at the tears in your eyes. āNo, I donāt want to fucking- I- You donāt get to tell me anything about- About anything. This is your fault, your-ā
You cut yourself off, and Bucky blinks, leaning back. āMy fault?ā He laughs in disbelief, when you nod, not meeting his eyes. āHow the hell is it my fault?ā
You wrap your arms over your stomach, gaze fixed firmly on your shoes. āBrock thinks you want to fuck me,ā you mumble, and Buckyās heart falters in his chest. āThatās what the- The stupid fight way about, alright? And he thinks I shouldnāt be around you anymore, because of it.ā
Bucky gapes at you. Heās trying to think of a way to ask that isnāt selfish. He canāt come up with it. āBut youāre not going to listen to him, right?ā
You shrug. āItās not like you like being around me,ā you mumble, and Buckyās hands fists.
āThatās not the fuckinā point, doll-ā
āIsnāt it?ā You give him a tired look. āDonāt you want me to just- Just go away? Arenāt you fucking happy, that youāre never going to have to deal with me again?ā
Buckyās throat his too tight to speak. This is a walking nightmare, but he canāt seem to wake up. Youāre right. This is the part heās supposed to want, where you bury him and he never has to see youāre beauty and wonder what if. But heās selfish. Heās too fucking selfish, and he doesnāt want the sun to go away. He canāt lose you. Not like this, not when you seem to have halfway lost yourself.
You give him a prompting glare, tipping up your chin when heās been silent too long. He swallows. His fingers flex, and he works his jaw until he can speak.
āDonāt,ā he rasps, watching you under hooded eyes. āDonāt go away.ā
You laugh, but it doesnāt sound read. āDonāt do that, Bucky, donāt act like you care-ā
āI do care-ā
āNo.ā You point at him, face tight. āNo, you donāt- You donāt-ā
Bucky catches your hand, and you immediately go quiet. He takes a small step forward. You donāt take a step back.
āI care,ā he croaks, squeezing your hand once. āI care, doll. I- Iāve always cared, I-ā
He moves to his knees. You stare down at him, like youāre not sure what youāre supposed to do. Bucky doesnāt need you to do anything. He only prays at the only alter he knowsāyour feetāthat youāll listen.
āI love you,ā he whispers, and your mouth falls open.
āBuckyā¦ā
āI know Iāve been a dick,ā he rasps. āI know, and I- I donāt expect you to forgive me, or say anything back. If you wanna slap me, Iāll let you. Iāll let you do anything, doll, just- Please donāt listen to him.ā Bucky swallows, daring to wrap a hand around the back of your thighs, silently begging you to stay. āIf heās told you no one else is gonna love you, heās dead wrong. If youāre letting him tell you what to do ācause you think itās the only way to make him stay, let him fucking leave. You deserve better. Youāve always deserved better. Than-ā His words catch, painful in his throat. āThan me. But also than him. You deserve better.ā
He digs his fingers into your soft skin, and you swallow, blinking down at him with soft, glossy eyes.
āI love you,ā Bucky echoes like a prayer. āI swear I love you, doll. And I really donāt expect nothing, but- Please.ā
You straighten up, and Bucky tries not to flinch when you cup his cheek. Your hand is so warm, so soft. He doesnāt deserve the touch.
āBucky,ā you murmur. āStand up.ā
He blinks at you, then scrambles to his feet. Your mouth twitches. He thinks thatās a good sign.
You stand barely an inch apart, staring into each others eyes. Bucky lets every bit of himself crumble away, until the only thing left for you to see is his love. You let out a sharp breath, and glance to his parted lips.
āYou mean it?ā You whisper, and he nods in a heartbeat.
āWith everything I got.ā
You laugh, soft and nervous, and meet his gaze again. āBut- You were such an asshole- I thought you hated me.ā
āNever,ā he whispers. āI- I mean- I was an asshole, but I never hated you doll, ever. I just- I kinda loved you too much, and Iām an idiot-ā
Buckyās voice dies easily, when you push up and press a small kiss to his lips. His hands twitch to catch you, but he holds them back. Not daring to move. Not daring to let this fall apart. Your lips are so soft, and you taste like that sugary drink youād been nursing, and he thinks he might have just taken a hit of a drug heās never going to kick.
Heās panting, when you pull away. You smile at him, shy and gorgeous, brows raised in challenge, and he laughs like a ruined man. He dives back down, grabbing your face between his hands and kissing you hard. Kissing you the way he dreamed, your lips molding together and body arching up to his touch, your tongue darting over his lip before he squeezes your jaw, and you open for him with a moan. Ā He chuckles and spits into your mouth, wrapping an arm around your waist. You scratch his neck and press back with twice the force, dragging a low groan from his chest.
Bucky yanks himself back, and you stare at each other, flushed and panting. You find it in you to speak first. Buckyās not surprised.
āYou love me?ā You demand, and he nods.
āAll the time.ā
You nod, and he thinks heās got the kind of luck they talk about in kings.
āGood,ā you mutter, straightening the collar of his shirt before fixing him with that enchanting, dangerous stare. āProve it.ā
Bucky smiles, and presses a harsh but loving kiss to your lips. You really have no fucking idea.
Proving it is going to be the easy part.
Youāve had dreams about this. So many dreams that living through it takes a lot of convincing, for you to believe itās reality. You think, through the power of Buckyās hands and lips, youāre going to get there.
You kissed and stumbled into Natās house with your hands roaming and feet tripping over everything but each other. Bucky had ripped your shirt over your head and kicked the door behind him, letting his searing mouth wander over your jaw, your cheeks, your nose and back to your lips. Youād pulled the buckle of his jeans while he made quick work of your bra, using the straps to pull you right back against his chest before tossing it the same way as your shirt.
āLook at you,ā heād muttered, palming your breast with an air of awe to his every word. āPrettiest thing Iāve ever fuckinā seen.ā
Youād flushed and kissed him before he could say any more nice things. They were already making your heart soft and prone to forgiveness. The kind you were trying to make him earn, even if he was probably about to get it for free.
Bucky slid his hand around the back of your neck and kissed you like it was a movie. Youād melted into him, clinging to the hooks of his jeans and letting him angle your face further back. Youād tugged him closer and heād grunted, wrapping his full bicep around your neck and sliding his hand on your breast down your side. Heād cupped your ass and squeezed it before dipping his fingers under your waistband, pulling it back and forth as he dragged his tongue over your lower lip.
āWanna take care of you,ā heād muttered, like he was speaking to himself. āYou gonna let me take care of you?
āYe- Yeah,ā you breathe, nails digging into his wrist. Youāre trying to stay steady. Youāre not sure itās working, with how the room is spinning and your skin is getting heated. āYes, please.ā
Bucky chuckles, dragging his thumb over your lower lip. Your mouth falls open with a tiny gasp, and his brows furrow tight. He slides the pad of his finger between your lips, and you flick your tongue against it. Your eyes droop, and your head tips back as you start to suck on him. Bucky groans, his fingers digging into your hips.
āJesus,ā he rasps. āAlways knew youād be the death of me, doll.ā
You coo, and Buckyās nostrils flare. His hand drifts further down your back, hooking on your bottoms and pulling them with him. You make another soft, humming sound, smiling at him around his thumb, and his throat bobs.
āThatās it,ā he rasps. āJust like that, nice and easy.ā
Your bottoms fall to the floor, leaving you in only your panties. Bucky glances down, his tongue darting over his lips, and then looks right back to you. He pulls his thumb away, cups the back of your head, and pulls your face back for him to kiss. You moan against his mouth and he groans, pressing over you until thereās no space for anything else left. Itās all just Bucky, everywhere around you and so warm you start to get dizzy. You almost donāt know what to do with yourself, yanking at his shirt and trying to meet every kiss, but itās hard. Buckyās demanding, and youāve wanted this for too long. Just his hands on your bare skin are better than anyone else being inside of you. Itās really unfair.
Bucky cups your pussy when your back hits the wall, and you mewl. He leans back to watch your hips roll against his hand, his eyes going fully dark and a low, rumbling grunt falling from his lips.
āFuck, baby,ā he rubs his hand back and forth, a sweet, lewd sound filling the room. āThis wet, just for me?ā
You nod a little shamefully, watching him under fluttering lashes. He pulls on the fabric of your panties and snaps it against your cunt, making you buck up with a squeak. Bucky chuckles and rubs over the hurt, leaning down until your lips are brushing together.
āYou want me to play nice?ā He whispers. āOr fuck you like Iāve been dreaminā about.ā
You blink at him, mouth hanging open and face burning. Itās hard to think, with the drag of his rough, gentle hand against your cunt. For a little while you just stare at him helplessly, and Bucky takes a small mercy, snapping your panties back against your pussy, shocking your heartbeat enough to make you think.
Like heās been dreaming. Youāve been dreaming too. Holding fantasies about Bucky giving it to you just how you want, walking that thin line you never trusted Brock to balance on. But you trust Bucky. Your Bucky, before the whole mess. The Bucky you can see so clearly now, features shining with affection as he watches you already start to come apart.
āThat,ā you say, small but certain. āDo- Do it like that.ā
Bucky pauses. āLike-ā
āHow you want,ā you whisper, and he goes still.
Bucky scans over your face for an ounce of hesitation. You donāt have any, so you hold his gaze.
He lets out a rough, broken breath. āYou sure-ā
You press up and kiss him hard. He gets the idea.
Bucky rips your panties off like theyāre made of paper, drops one arm under your thighs, and picks you up with barely a grunt. You squeal and try to push away on instinct, but heās strong. Stronger than you thought, and youāve spent an embarrassing amount of time ogling his muscles. He slams his mouth over yours for a brief, hungry kiss, spits down your throat, and tosses you right over his shoulder.
āBucky-ā
āShh,ā he slaps your ass and you squeak again, dropping your face right into his shoulder. He squeezes over the pleasurable sting then starts to walk, keeping you steady over him.
āWhere- Where are we going?ā You try to push up to see over his shoulder. Bucky lands another spank on your ass, and you fall right back down with a whine. āJames- Shit-ā
Heās dragging his fingers over your sopping wet cunt, smearing the mess everywhere he can, humming while he walks. Your thighs clench, but that only seems to give him easier access, and you whine.
āBu- Bucky-ā
āAh,ā Bucky slaps your pussy, and you muffle your moan against his body. āThatās not what I want to hear, doll.ā
You swallow and shake your head, bunching his shirt between your trembling fingers. Bucky spanks your pussy again and it clenches around nothing. His thumb drifts, teasing over your clit in tiny brushes, back and forth and back and forth. You whimper, but he just hums, dragging two fingers through the mess between your thighs, before returning to your swollen little button.
āCome on,ā he coos, encouraging and mocking all at once. āUse your words for me.ā
You canāt. You muffle another moan in Buckyās shoulder, writhing best you can in his iron grip. Bucky hums like this is casual, like heās not already taking you apart with the lightest of touches. A door creaks open, and you barely have time to recognize the carpet of Natās guest room before youāre being tossed down onto the bed.
You bounce slightly, and Bucky catches your ankles, dragging you right to the edge of the mattress. You stare at him, mouth hanging open, completely unsure what to do with yourself. His lips twitch and he lowers down, pressing a gently, loving kiss to your lips. You arch up and he rubs your thighs, easing you down into his touch. You slump forward, running your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.
Bucky traces his hand a little higher up your thigh, and you try not to buck into his touch. Itās not very successful, and he smiles against your lips, pinching your upper thigh. You whimper and turn your head, trying to save useless face. Bucky chuckles, sucking a small mark under your throat, then flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin.
āJamesā¦ā You moan, and he goes still. You turn nervously, worried you somehow, already, ruined it. āBucky?ā
His throat bobs. He grabs your chins between two fingers, eyes boring through you, like he can see all your hazy, love-colored thoughts.
āBuck-ā
āJames,ā he mutters, dragging his thumb over your swollen lip. āKeep callinā me James, doll.ā
You nod, a faint flush burning your cheeks. Itās not even from the way heās touching you. Not right now. James isnāt a name Bucky lets anyone use. You used to, but then he started pushing you, and you didnāt want to lose that last sacred closeness, of being allowed to use his nickname. But if James is what he wants. Heāll get it. Youāll give him almost anything, right now.
āJames,ā you breathe, and Buckyās throat bobs. He leans down for another, slower kiss. You close your eyes and let him control the depth, the unmeasured but drizzle passion like honey. When he pulls away youāre breathless, and heās on his knees.
Naked and on his knees.
You make a tiny sound, gaping shamelessly at his cock. Itās thick and heavy looking, leaking with pre-cum and probably more than you can take. But you want to try. You want to drool around it in every possible way, looking up and Bucky and getting that faint, affectionate smile.
āYou seeinā something you like?ā Bucky teases, and you give him a hopeless, embarrassed look. He chuckles and grabs himself, stroking slowly and holding your gaze. āYou want it bad, huh,ā he mutters, smearing some drool over your cheek. āHe aināt been fuckinā your right, either. Left you so needy for so long, you get all quiet just seeing a real cock?ā
Your face is on fire, but your core is throbbing and aching. You drop your brow against Buckyās, fixated on his fist, pumping that massive dick.
āSpit on it,ā Bucky grunts, and you obey thoughtless, letting some of your need fall from your lips to Buckyās shining cock. He groans and smashes his lips over yours, his hand pumping faster until heās groaning your name against your lips.
Then he pulls back, lets go of himself, and just stares at your slack, desperate expression. You swallow, and his lips curve into a faint, starved smile.
āYou need to be treated like a whore, huh,ā he mutters. āFucked like a toy ātill you remember how nice it is, to have my attention.ā
Oh, God. Your thighs try to press together. Bucky shoves them apart, using his thumb to part your puffy, swollen pussy lips.
āPretty little thing,ā he mutters, pressing over your clit before dragging his thumb back down. āDonāt worry, baby, Iāll fuck you right. Gonna open you up,ā he presses his thumb hard against your entrance, smirking at your tiny sound. āThen give you exactly what you need. That sound good?ā
āYe- Yeah,ā you manage to babble, remembering his thing about words. āYes, please.ā
Bucky smiles, and presses a quick kiss to your lips. āGood girl.ā
You whine, and Bucky doesnāt waste time. He sinks fully down, kissing over your tummy as he shoves your legs fully apart. You watch him, breathing ragged, and weave your fingers through his hair for balance. He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other. Nips at the sensitive skin, then flicks his tongue over the hurt before kissing it again. He takes his time, kissing all around your cunt, but never letting his mouth go where you really fucking need.
āJames,ā you whine, tugging on his hair. āDonāt- Donāt tease.ā
He chuckles, his lips brushing right against your clit. You squirm, but he holds your thighs down and gives you a stern look.
āIāll tease you all I fuckinā want, babydoll,ā he mutters, giving the quickest, lightest kiss to your clit. āYouāre too pretty and reactive not to play with.ā
You whimper, unable to come up with a response that isnāt a fuck you. As fun as it would be to push his buttons and find out just what punishment under Buckyās attention isābeing dragged over his lap, forced to sit on his cock until youāre drooling, brought right up to the edge over and over but never being allowed to fallāyouāre too desperate right now. You might cum just from looking at him, itās been so long, and he seems to know it.
āNeedy pussy,ā he mutters, tracing his thumb in circles around your clit. āGonna take real good care of you, pretty girl.ā
You mewl because god help you, you really believe him. Bucky pulls back the hood of your clit, blows on it in a way that makes your whole body seize up, then presses a long, slow kiss to the bundle of nerves.
āFuck- James- James-ā
āI know,ā he coos, tongue flicking against your pulsing cunt. āSuch a greedy fuckinā girl, canāt even wait for me.ā He kisses your clit again, making out with it until youāre panting and struggling to sit up. āLucky Iām feelinā generous,ā he mutters, and whatever restraint heād been pretending to have was gone.
Bucky shoves his face into your pussy, his beard scraping your thighs and his tongue licking a long, rough stripe up your core until it hits your clit, swirls, andĀ dives back down. Plunging in and out of your dripping hole before repeating the lick, playing with your clit more and more every time. Thick hands keep your legs spread when you start to get restless, but he lets you buck freely up into his mouth. He seems to enjoy it, how you pull on his hair and cry his name. If anything, his mouth just works harder against you, tongue flicking against your clit in rapid, tiny strokes that send you into a frenzy.
You fall back with a sob, grinding up and craning your neck to try and keep watching him. Itās a beautiful sight, Bucky drowning himself between your thighs. He winks at you, pressing his tongue flat over your entrance, and you fall back with a moan. Youāre getting there fast. It would be embarrassing, with anyone but Bucky. He just kisses your thigh and bumps his nose against your clit, muttering youāre close against your skin before diving right back in.
āBu- Bucky-ā You grab at the sheets, your pussy throbbing like a ticking bomb before an explosion. āBucky- I- Iām gonna-ā
His teeth graze your clit, and he wraps his lips tight around the nub, sucking on it hard. You scream as your vision goes white, your hips flying off the bed, but Bucky doesnāt stop. He lets wraps his arms around each thigh, shoves your legs close around his head, and keeps sucking on your clit, it starts to get all tingly and numb in the best way. Itās almost like heās tickling it with his tongue, the pressure of his mouth perfect and unbearable, your eyes rolling back in your head as you writhe.
āOh- Oh my god-ā You sob, pushing at his head. āBucky- I- I canāt, please-ā
He kisses your clit a little more gently, spanks your pussy, and gives you a stern look. āYes, you can.ā
It doesnāt seem to be something thatās up for argument.Ā
Bucky keeps you pinned to his face, sucking and sucking and sucking, no real care for what else you do. You cry and pull at the sheets, trying and climb away with no avail, and end up rolling onto your stomach, your face pressed into the sheets. Bucky still stays locked against your pussy, the feeling only intensifying when heās beneath you. Youāre all but sitting on his face, grinding you cunt down onto his jaw, sobbing into the sheets as your body becomes taut and wired and ready to snap.
A second orgasm rolls over you like a thunderstorm. Wet and loud and hot. You gush against Buckyās face, tears starting to stream down your face from the overstimulation. You havenāt even had one proper orgasm inā¦ longer than you want to admit. Brock never really gave you anything more than a shiver, and your patience in your own body was limited to a vibrator and ten minutes before a dull, anti-climatic orgasm that didnāt feel like much, but still made you too sensitive to keep going. Bucky just pulled two out of you, with his mouth alone.
He pulls back when youāre trembling, leaving a last, gentle kiss over your clit.
āBest fuckinā pussy Iāve ever tasted,ā he mutters, giving it one more spank before he starts to crawl over your body. āCoulda died there, doll, I swear.ā
He laughs to himself, and you whimper against the sheets. Bucky pauses, caging you against the mattress with massive arms, and slowly rolls you over onto your back. You stare up at him, starry-eyed and spent, and his mouth twitches down.
āYou alright?ā He murmurs, brushing the hair from your face. You nod, and he doesnāt look convinced. āAre you-ā
āBucky,ā you whisper, and his throat bobs. āIf you donāt fuck me, Iām leaving.ā
He laughs, throaty and dry, and ducks back down to give you another, slower kiss. One hand slides down your body, palming at your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers between pinching gently. Bucky smiles, at the tiny whine it pulls out of you.
āCould spend forever here,ā he mutters. āGivinā every single part of you the attention it deserves. Sucking on these tits while you ride my thigh. Bending you over and opening up that cunt with just my hands, just playing with your ass until youāre drippinā on my lap.ā He groans, his cock twitching against your thigh. āYouāre so fuckinā beautiful, babydoll. You got no idea.ā
You hum, the tears on your cheeks shiner than before. He means it. Whatever doubts youād had before fade, because youāre sure. Bucky means it.
He settles himself fully between your legs, the more aggressive, dominant mask seeming to fracture, like light splitting through the clouds. Always there, even when he pretends. Coming out when you mostĀ need to see it.
āGonna go right in,ā he mutters, mostly to himself. āOpened you up real good. Shouldnāt even hurt.ā
You hum, pressing your face against his neck. Bucky rubs his cock against your cunt slowly, covering himself in your arousal before tapping his head against your clitāalmost ceremoniously, like paying homageāand notching himself against your entrance.
The stretch isnāt as bad as you thought it would be. Buckyās still big, so big you can feel it in your throat, so big you donāt think youāve ever been this full, but heād prepped you so well, itās just a faint burn before it molds into pleasure. Buckyās warm breath fans over the top of your neck as he watches your pussy mold around his cock. He moans something like your name against your skin, and you wrap your arms tight around his head.
āFeels so good,ā you moan as he pushes further in. āSo- So good.ā
Bucky grunts, and you whimper as he bottoms out, balls pressed tight to your ass.
For a few moments, neither of you move. Bucky looks up at you with a wrecked expression you can feel in your chest, and you give him a faint, nervous smile.
āYou know I love you too, right?ā You say, because itās the only thing you can think.
Buckyās throat bobs. He doesnāt seem to have any words, and gives you a slow, romantic kiss. He rolls his hips experimentally, and you gasp against his lips. Heās curved in a way that presses right up against your g-spot, and itās almost like a massage. You clench down, and Bucky grunts, but he repeats the motion anyway.
āJames- Ooooh-ā Your eyes roll back, and Bucky sucks and kisses over your jaw, grinding his cock right against that soft, gooey spot. āFuck- James-ā
Bucky makes a deep, almost feral sound, and starts to move faster. Shallow, brutal thrusts that split you right open. You grab his bicep for dear life, and he watchers your every reaction with a sharp attention. You mewl when he does a swivel move, almost flying off the bed, and he pins you down with a hand splayed over your stomach.
āFeel that?ā He grunts, pulling all the way out before slamming back in. āYou fuckinā feel that, babydoll? How good we feel together? Greedy little pussy, swallowinā my cock up like the whore you are- Fuck-ā
Bucky falls back over you, kissing you with spit and teeth and brutal force. You wrap your arms around your neck, moaning loud and shameless as he picks up his pace. Small, measured thrusts turn into the bed creaking, Buckyās cock drilling into your pussy like heās trying to knock every thought from your head. Itās working. Youāre a drooling, wound up mess below him, and he grins against your lips.
āThatās my girl,ā he mocks. āSmart head so fuckinā empty, when I got you on my cock. No one else makes you feel like this, do they?ā
You donāt answerāyou canātāand Bucky smacks your clit.
āDo they?ā
You shake your head, babbling out a pathetic half-answer. āN- No-ā
āWho fucks you right?ā Bucky demands, words harsh but touch gentle when he grabs your jaw.
āYou.ā Tears start to fall down your cheeks again. āYou, Bucky- Please-ā
You moan as he hits that spot again, and Bucky groans, dropping down to kiss the tears away, then mold his lips back over yours.
āDamn right, me,ā he grunts, skin slapping against skin, the wet, sinful sound of him bullying into your cunt almost drowning out the words. āMy fuckinā girl.ā
Bucky leans up, and you almost cry for him before you realize what heās doing. Bucky grabs your knees with one arm and presses them up to your chest, leaning down to kiss you as he fucks you deeper into the mattress. The angle is deeper like this. You can feel it everywhere, from your toes to your lips. You make a strangled, undignified sound when Buckyās thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles.
āCum with me, babydoll,ā he grunts, kissing your calf and rutting into your drooling, pulsing cunt. āCome one, wanna fill you up, pump this pussy up ātill everyone knows, just-ā He groans. āGimme just one more.ā
You donāt know where it comes from. You didnāt think you had it in you, but Bucky manages to pull it out. A third orgasm, slower and longer than the last too. Hotter, as well. Pooling in your gut before flooding out of your cunt. Down your thighs and over Buckyās cock as you flutter and he doubles over with a roar.
Youāre not sure whatās Buckyās cum and whatās yours. Thereās just wet stickiness, filling you up everywhere until your eyes are unfocused and your body is twitching. Bucky kisses you through the orgasms, fucking shallowly into your pussy like he canāt help himself. When you both ease down, youāre blinking at the ceiling with heavy eyes and a warm feeling blooming back into your chest. Free and light and easy, in a way you never expected yourself to have.
This is going to be a mess in the morning. Right now, you donāt really care.
āI guess Brock was right,ā you muse. āYou did want to sleep with me.ā
Bucky sits up with a glare. āDonāt say that when Iām still inside of you.ā
You giggle, reaching up to brush some hair from his brow. His gaze softens and he catches your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
āDo you believe me?ā He mutters, and itās small and worried. As if, after that, youād somehow ever let him get away again.
āYeah,ā you smile, and his shoulders slump in relief.
āThank god-ā
āBut,ā you squeeze his hand. āI think you should keep proving it.ā
Bucky chuckles, giving you an amused look before dropping his face right back into your boobs. You beam at the ceiling and pet the top of his head, neither of you in a rush to clean up. You probably should. You really should. Bucky seems to realize why at the same moment you do.
āNatās gonna kill us,ā he groans, and you snort.
āYeah. You.ā
Bucky props his chin on your chest. āYou too-ā
āNo,ā you shake your head. āIām her favorite.ā
āThatās-ā Bucky sighs, and drops his face back down. āYeah.ā
You laugh, and he grins against your boob.
āWorth it,ā he mutters, and you smile like a fool.
Because yeah. It was. Ā Ā
ā¦End note: sometimes... cheating is okay!ā¦
ā¦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3ā¦
ā¦Buy me a coffee!āļø (and get early access!)ā¦
Summary: You never thought Bucky was the sentimental type, until you found something hidden under his bed.
WC: 3.3k
Tags/Warnings: super fluffy, established relationship, Post Thunderbolts*,Not Beta ReadĀ
A/N: Iāve had this idea for weeks and finally did it. Fun fact, the Polaroids may or may not be inspired by real pictures I took of my best friend and her boyf. Also, yes I have been to the rest stop I mentioned. Sadly I live far away from them and I NEED to go back!
You felt like an idiot looking at your wrist and realizing your watch wasnāt there.Ā
āShit,ā you mumbled.
āWhatās wrong?ā Bucky asked you with concern.Ā
You shook your head, āItās nothing, I forgot my watch.ā
He paused, pondering while he put on his leather jacket. āI think you left it on my nightstand when you took it off last night,ā he answered, pointing down the hall. āDo you want to go get it before we leave?āĀ
You hesitated, āYou sure you donāt mind waiting?āĀ
Bucky shook his head and held out his hand to hold your jacket and purse for you. āNot at all.ā
You smiled, handed him your things, and left a kiss on his cheek. āThanks, be right back.āĀ
As you walked away the corners of his lips turned up into a soft smile.Ā
You hurried to Buckyās room and upon entering a frustrated groan left you. There the nightstand was, with no watch. You searched the drawers in the nightstand and the top of his dresser, still no luck.Ā
After staring at the nightstand, you wondered if you really did leave it there but maybe it fell. You kneeled down next to the bed and turned on your phone flashlight. A quick scan finally revealed the missing watch. With a relieved sigh you reached for it, when something caught your eye.Ā
A box.Ā
A box with your name written on the side of it.Ā
Your own name was staring back at you as you grabbed the watch. With a careful hand you reached for the box and dragged it out from the bed.Ā
The box sat in your lap, unopened, unbothered. It was a dark brown cardboard shoe box from one of his pairs of boots. Your name was written in black marker on the side and next to it a tiny messy heart.Ā
Your gut is telling you not to open it. It might have been hidden for a reason. You have no right to be digging and snooping around Buckyās things. Finding something he didnāt want found.Ā
But another part of you was desperate to know what was inside. That small but loud part of your brain that was screaming at you to open it. The voice kept echoing in your ears. Reminding you that your name was on it.Ā
Why did he have a box with your name on it?
Maybe it wasnāt supposed to be hidden. You kept things under your bed not because you wanted to hide them, but because of storage and safekeeping. Maybe this was like that.Ā
Maybe.Ā
God the anticipation was going to kill you.Ā
Maybe it was a present he put in there for your next anniversary, birthday, or some other reason.Ā
Well then you should really not open it. Donāt want to ruin any possible surprise he has for you.Ā
You really shouldnāt open it. You shouldnāt open it. Donāt open it. Donāt open it. Donāt open it. Donāt open it. Open it. Open it. Open itā¦
Your hands moved on their own. Your fingers peeled back the lid of the box and set it down on the floor next to you.Ā
You peered inside at the contents of the box with confused curiosity. At first glance it didnāt look like much. It definitely wasnāt a present. There were a bunch of random items, mostly paper ones.Ā
The first thing that caught your attention was the small plastic wristband. It was at the top of the pile. You picked it up and read the words on the side āLuna Park: Coney Island.ā Realization dawned on you that it was Buckyās wristband from your first date. When he asked you out, there was no specific place in mind yet. But when he told you an old story about him and Steve at Coney Island and you said you had never been there before, he knew where he wanted to take you.Ā
It was a perfect first date. The weather was clear and warm but not too hot to be uncomfortable, no doubt because of the cool ocean breeze. You went on rides, you played games. And of course Bucky spent 40 bucks to win you a blue stuffed penguin you fawned over and called cute. He was a man on a mission. And now that penguin sat on a chair in your bedroom.Ā
With a smile you placed the wristband back in the box and picked at the other things inside.Ā
Your heart swelled at the realization that most of the items were from your old dates with Bucky. There were tickets from your trips to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Museum of Natural History and one from The New York Aquarium. There had to be at least 5 movie stubs and 3 dinner receipts from dates you went on with him. There was the playbill from the broadway show he took you to for your birthday a few months ago. He surprised you with orchestra seats.Ā
You dug around more and found a strip of photos from a photo booth you took with Bucky. His eyes shined as he told you about how common they were back in the 30s and how he used to always stop at them with his friends. When you both sat down he stared with wide eyes at the inflated price.Ā
āTen dollars? This used to cost a quarter!āĀ
You giggled at his complaint, āYou sound so old when you say stuff like that.ā You reached for your purse to grab a ten when he stopped you with a hand on your arm and pulled out his wallet from his pocket.Ā
āIām still not going to let you pay for it,ā he returned with a sly grin.Ā
You smiled looking down at the strip of pictures in your hand. The top photo was simple, both you and Bucky smiling at the camera with his arm around you. It was sweet, peaceful. In the second photo you placed a hand under his chin and kissed his cheek. His eyes were closed with wrinkles around them from his smile. His cheeks were more rosy than in the last photo. In the third photo Bucky now had his hand on your neck as he kissed you. The fourth and final photo was of you looking at the camera, mid laugh, while Bucky had a hand on your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek.Ā
The machine gave you two copies of the pictures. Yours was pinned to a cork board in your room next to other photos.Ā
You moved on from the photo strip and continued digging through the memory box, throwing caution to the wind.Ā
As you flipped through the other items a shell fell from behind something, landing in the corner of the box. It was the seashell from when you walked and talked on the beach for what felt like hours because you were so engrossed in conversation with him. The water carried a small shell onto the shore. You picked it out from the water and stared at it in awe. You had asked Bucky to hold onto it because your clutch was full and your outfit didnāt have any pockets. Later that night you forgot about it.Ā
In fact, you forgot about it until now, weeks later. Your jaw dropped as you ran your fingertips over the ridges of the shell's surface, reminiscing your walk on the beach. His hand in yours and the
The next thing you found were the birthday cards you gave Bucky from his last two birthdays. One card was from a birthday before you started dating, and the other one was after.Ā
The two year old card was more basic, like you got it from the generic section of the birthday card aisle (because you did). You opened up the old card and read your own handwriting.Ā
Happy Birthday Bucky
I know you donāt like making a big deal out of your birthday but you still deserve a card :)Ā
Youāre so important to this team and your effort doesnāt go unnoticed. Weāre lucky to have you around. I hope you have a great day and that 109 treats you well. (Even though youāre technically not 109 haha)Ā
You closed it and set it back down in the box before grabbing the one you gave him on his most recent birthday. This one was less generic. You picked out one that had more design and personality.Ā
Happy Birthday my LoveĀ
I am so grateful to have you by my side. Youāre one of the best things to have ever happened to me. I hope you know you are so important and appreciated. I canāt imagine my life or this team without you.Ā
Happy 110th you old man ;)
I love you with all my heart
Hidden behind the birthday cards was a stack of post-it notes all stuck together. Some of them were old with barely any stickiness left and crinkled edges. Some were new and almost in pristine condition. But all of them were notes from you. You flipped through the stack of sticky notes and saw more of your own handwriting.Ā
Good morning <3
You make me smile :)
Meet me in the lounge later I have a surprise!
I know you stole my last Pepsi >:( prepare for war
Iām so proud of youĀ
Have a great day!
And at least 7 more that just say I love youĀ
Bucky must have saved every single note you left for him.
Your heart almost gave out but thankfully it lasted to see the last few items in the box.Ā
There were more photos. Two to be exact. Two Polaroids taken from Yelena's camera.Ā
One of the Polaroids was taken a few months ago. You knew it was taken because you posed for it. It was on your birthday. The team celebrated at the tower with you after the show Bucky surprised you with. You wanted to keep out of the public eye for the rest of your birthday. Spend the night with just friends. And your boyfriend of course.Ā
Yelena was a few drinks in, wasting her camera film throughout the night. She had a pile of photos on the coffee table that was getting thicker as time went on. Most of them included you.Ā
This one was of you and Bucky. Everyone was sitting on the couches playing a drinking game. You and Bob returned from the bar with new drinks. A Long Island iced tea for you and a regular iced tea for him. You plopped back down on the couch next to your boyfriend, giggling at whatever outlandish thing Alexei said. After you placed your drink down Bucky wrapped an arm around you and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek.Ā
āAwe! Wait, that was adorable, do that again!ā Yelena exclaimed as she grabbed her camera.Ā
You rolled your eyes, with no real malice of course. āYelena,ā you laughed.Ā
āCome on, itās sweet!ā She turned the camera on and looked through the viewfinder.Ā
āKiss!ā Alexei shouted.Ā
āPucker up Barnes!ā Ava yelled from the other couch.Ā
The corners of Buckyās lips turned up into a grin as he shook his head. A gasp left you as Bucky grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap. He tightened his arm around you and placed a kiss on your cheek. Your face turned bright red as an airy giggle left your lungs.Ā
Yelena snapped the image in front of her. Forever frozen in time.
The memory of that night now sat in your hands as you stared down at it. There was a phantom feeling of his lips on your skin as you set the Polaroid back down in the box.Ā
You picked the other photo up, immediately recognizing when it was taken. Except, you donāt remember it being taken.Ā
This picture was taken a few short weeks before Bucky asked you out. You knew that because your hair was slightly shorter. It was more grown out now.Ā
The photo was of you and Bucky on the couch, taken from behind. Your back was to the camera, resting against the couch. Bucky was sitting next to you. Your attention was pulled away somewhere off camera. But Bucky, he looked right at you.Ā
The thing that really stuck with you was his eyes. His eyes were soft. The kind of soft that people didn't see often from him. His eyes are normally like stone. His stare, usually hard, like rock. It pierces into you. But this look on him was different. He looked at you like you were a work of art. Like he was trying to take in all of you with just his eyes.Ā
You've seen that look before many times. But didnāt notice it before you started dating. You didnāt realize just how head over heels he was in the weeks leading up to your first date.Ā
You cautiously placed the pictures back in the box, like they were delicate and fragile.Ā
Something else you didnāt remember was a napkin with little doodles on it. You recognized it as a napkin from a bar the team occasionally visited. But you canāt remember when you drew flowers and vines on this napkin.Ā
Bucky seemed to remember it. He kept it and cherished it in his memory box like it was a masterpiece you created and not some drunk sketch.Ā
Your heart rate slowly grew in speed as your eyes moved to a keychain at the bottom of the box. It was a small, yellow, metal keychain in the shape of Texas with a cartoon beaver on it.Ā
It was in the middle of the night after a short mission in Texas. You and Ava stopped at the largest rest stop youād ever seen in your life. The rest stop had a beaver for its mascot and aisles of merch. But what made you buy the keychain for him was the name of the rest stop. Buc-eeās.Ā
You almost didnāt buy it for him. This was long before you started dating and you werenāt sure how he would appreciate a random gag gift.Ā
āI found something for you in Texas.āĀ
He turned to you and hummed with curiosity. You dug the keychain from your jeans pocket and handed it to him.Ā
āWe found this rest stop called Buc-eeās and they have this little beaver as their mascot,ā you explained, fidgeting with the loops in your jeans. āHeās literally your twin, you're both named Bucky,ā you ended with a chuckle, trying to make this one sided conversation any less awkward.Ā
He continued to silently examine it, his right, flesh hand running over the painted metal.Ā
āI know itās stupid, you donāt have to keep it,ā you nervously mumbled. You reached forward to grab it back from him,Ā
He pulled his hand back, not willing to give up the present. āNo, itās not stupid. Itās cute,ā he reassured.Ā Ā
Your cheeks heated up in real time just like they did when he said that.Ā
He kept it.Ā
He kept the gag gift you got him. This silly little keychain was so important he kept it in a special keepsake box.
You almost couldnāt believe what you found. All the memories, all the stuff you gave him, all the things he cherished because they reminded him of you. It seemed like this box that sat in your lap held his very own heart and all his love for you.Ā
You shuffled the items back to how they were in the box when you found it. You assumed that was all there was to find in there. Until three candy wrappers fell out from between the various papers.Ā
Jolly Ranchers. Your favorite candy.Ā
You always had them on you. Kinda like an old lady that carries around hard candy. John always jokes that youāre an old woman when you grab a jolly rancher from your pocket or purse. He says you and Bucky are perfect for each other because you both have old person tendencies.Ā
Speaking of Bucky, because you often had candy on you, you always offered some to him. He always said yes. Here in his shoe box you saw one cherry and two green apple wrappers.Ā
You froze, staring at the candy wrappers. Even in the silence of his room you couldnāt hear the footsteps approaching. For a moment all you heard was your own heart pounding in your ears.Ā
The door creaked open. āHey, youāve been gone for a while. Did you find your watch?ā Bucky asked, walking in the room.Ā
He stopped a few feet away from you. Your back was to him, the box hidden in your lap. But he knew you had it because he saw the lid on the floor next to you.Ā
You raised your hand and shook your wrist to show him the watch. āYeah, I found it,ā your voice sounded more hoarse than you expected. You quickly blinked away the tears that collected at your waterline right before he waked in.
Bucky took a few steps closer, and crouched down next to you. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. Now that he was close to you, he noticed how glassy your eyes were.Ā
He held your face in his hand, his thumb stroking your cheek. Your eyes fluttered close.Ā
āIām sorry. Iām so sorry. My watch was under the bed and I found this,ā you started rambling. āI saw my name. I know I shouldnāt have opened it-āĀ
āHey, hey itās okay,ā he soothed in a quiet voice. He turned your face towards his. āIām not mad.āĀ
You nodded to confirm you understood. You sniffled and glanced between him and the box.Ā
āYou kept all this.āĀ Ā
āI did.āĀ
āWhy?āĀ
It was a dumb question and you knew it. Yet the word still flew out of your mouth.Ā
He took a pause, breathing in.Ā
āThis stuff means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me,ā he answered like it was the easiest thing to say in the world.Ā
āAfter HYDRA, after all the-ā he hesitated- āissues with my memory I started keeping stuff like this. To remember.ā
With his free hand he grabbed the other side of your face. Bucky leaned closer, his bright blue eyes stared into yours and bore into your soul. You couldāve sworn they looked a little glassy.
āI want to make sure I remember you.āĀ
You lip quivered. Bucky leaned forward and captured your lips in a brief, gentle kiss. He rested his forehead against yours.Ā
āCan I ask about something in the box?ā
āAnything.āĀ
āThe napkin. I donāt remember it,ā you confessed, voice quiet and curious. āWhy did you save it?āĀ
āIt was the team's first time at that bar. You were drunk and bored because they werenāt playing songs you liked. Someone left a pen on the bar and you sat there drawing on a napkin for twenty minutes.ā Bucky paused as his lips curled into a smile. āYou were so concentrated. The bar, the team, they were all so loud and distracting. But all your attention was on these little drawings. Like you were painting the Mona Lisa.ā
He licked his lips, āthat night I realized I have feelings for you.āĀ
A giddy smile snuck its way on your face before you kissed him. Slow and passionate. You poured all your love into that kiss to try and match the amount of devotion and love he had on display for you.
You pulled away, but not too far away. Your lips hovered over his. āI love you with all my heart. You know that right?āĀ
He lightly chuckled, āI know.āĀ
Bucky wiped away a stray tear that you didnāt know escaped and ran down your cheek.Ā
āI love you with all of mine,ā he whispered, his voice soft with adoration.
When I was training to be a battered womenās advocate, my supervisor said something that really blew my mind:
āYou can always assume one thingĀ about your clients; and that is that they are doing their best. Always assume everyone is doing their best. And if theyāre having a day where their best just isnāt that great, or their best doesnāt look like your best, you have to be okay with that.ā
Any now whenever anyone in my life, either a friend or a client, frustrates me, disappoints me, or pisses me off, I just tell myself They are doing their best. Their best isnāt that great today, but I have days where my best isnāt that great either.Ā
Op Iād like to thank you for sharing this. Ever since the first time Iāve read it Iāve held it in my mind and it really has helped me to be kinder to others and to myself.
As today is the 50th anniversary of the moon landing, itās a great time to revisit Dinah from Devonās memory of this historic event. And yes, still makes me laugh.
summary: after picking you up from your failed date, seeing your eyes red rimmed and cheeks tear stained, Bucky canāt help but let everything heās been holding back from you go.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut & fluff, crying, being stood up, dating apps, self-deprecation, texting & phone calls, reader uses sarcasm to deflect, sexual jokes, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, babyā¦), whipped!bucky, making out, kitchen to the bed, dirty talk, oral (f!rec), fingering, unprotected pinv, creampie, missionary, sebās tongue thing (and his face scrunch), (failed) riding, subspace, cocky!bucky, (soft)dom!bucky, multiple orgasms (like three), multiple positions (like two), slight cockwarming, MAAAD BDB (bucky's got a big dick and he knows it) . . . - (wc: 7.7k)
a/n: THANK YOU TO THIS ANON ASK !!!! in my brain, 'bestfriend' automatically turns into 'college!bucky' but really, you can imagine however you like lol <3 (he is broke tho so.) im so sorry this is late, fhsdufghfsf i didnt think this would turn into a 7k word porno lmfao
masterlist || navigation
ā“ļø reader is mentioned to have hair, and wears a dress, heels and make-up at the beginning. bucky also carries reader from kitchen to bed. (readers favourite movie is also Almost Famous here, why? because im self indulgent and it's a good movie.)
ā“ļø it's mentioned that bucky lives in an apartment with steve, unrelated to the plot, just mentioned (as well as a couple mentions of steve/nat. also alpine is mentioned once !!)
ā“ļø if i'm missing any tags please kindly let me know !!
The restaraunt still hums behind you, bustling with couples and soft, orange lighting, perfect for the night's celebrations, all the while you stand under the tiny awning trying to keep dry, arms clinging around your chest in an attempt to retain as much heat in as possible. Your hands balled into fists, one clutched your purse beneath your bicep, and the other holds your heels, feet soaked and numb, two-stepping with desperation.
You whine softly under your breath as the rain keeps pouring, sputtering against the covering and pavement, teeth chattering, chest heaving with a mix of anger and distress.
He didn't show.
After months of talking, of smiley faces and hearts sent at ungodly hours of the night, praise exclaimed with a smile on your face to friends, and a reservation you had made a week in advance, waiting for any sign to come through after an hour of waiting with a bouncy knee and chewed up lip, your chest caved inwards as a new story was posted on his account fifteen minutes ago, and your messages were simply left on read.
Calling him, demanding an explination, was pointless. It's too late to care, even as the rage boils up, heating up your stomach and shoulders, it all fizzles as exhaustion wipes over your body.
Useless. All of your attempts, the kind words that slipped from your lips about him, the reservation, the dress you kept stashed in the back of your closet, the heels you wore for special occasions, the make-up and hair you spent hours on; it was all for nothing. And now, standing pathetically outside the building, curled into yourself, you felt utterly useless.
Sniffling, you unlock your phone and, like muscle memory, find the familiar contact. Bucky. Humour is all you could ever conjure up when times felt difficult for you, even if he, your best friend, would tilt his head and eye you disapprovingly. Never malicious, his smirk would ghost his lips ever so slightly, nudging at your elbow with his own, but it's enough to get you to stop being so hard on yourself.
But tonight. You cant help but believe you deserve it.
you: the spinster life is really calling for me
bucky: you okay??
you: tbh not really lol
is it okay if you could possibly pick me up?
sorry if ur busy i can call an uber
Just as you clicked the little blue arrow to send the last message, Bucky's picture flooded the screen like a lifeline, and by the first buzz you were picking up.
"Heyā"
"What happened?" His voice, though crackly and muffled, eased your chest. Tone firm, curious, you can almost hear the crease between his brow.
"Hello to you too," you attempt to deflect with sarcasm, huffing a shitty attempt of a laugh and scratching your nose after a couple seconds of gruelling silence, you sighed. "I got stood up."
"Shit, i'm sorry, sweetheart."
"Not even the worst part," this time you laugh for real, "sent him some messages, turns out he's out at some party tonight, and this fucker had the nerve to leave me on read. And I stayed in the restaurant for an hour, Bucky! An hour!"
"You still at the restaurant?"
"Outside, yeah. They gave me that pitiful look, but they gave me some free bread." You hear him suck in a heavy breath, sucking his teeth like a wince, through the phone. You know the bread is already free, but its the thought that counts, right?
"You under a cover? Or at least have some kinda shelter?" You listen as he tugs on his sneakers with a huff.
"I'm under the awning but im absolutely soaked and not in the way I hoped, so," you snort weakly, "we're both pretty useless tonight."
Hesitating his movements, he tuts, brow furrowing into a scowl. "Don't say that."
"The wet part or the useless part?"
"The useless part," dragging a hand down his face, Bucky winces. "Look, i'll be there in ten, try not to freeze for me, 'kay?"
"Thank you, Bucky, seriously."
"Don't even, i'd do anything for you."
"Shut up."
He hums over the phone, "it's true."
"Sap."
"i can take the long way and make you wait another twentyā"
āYou wouldnāt dare, James,ā youāre sure he can hear your smile through the receiver. With a sigh you flex your fingers in and out, trying to relieve them of the cold numbness. āPlus my hands are going numb, and I kinda desperately need them.ā you joke, sniffling. āYou on your way?ā
A car door slams, āJust got in,ā his seatbelt clicks and engine revs, āyou wanna stay on call or should i leave you to your thoughts.ā
Tipping your head back against the brick wall, you let out a heavy sigh.āIāll be fine with my thoughts. Gotta make sure the whole storyās straight before I give you a migraine.ā
You both snicker on each end, a rustle coming through his own as he wipes his hand over his cheek and through his hair. You both stay in a few seconds of relaxed silence, warmth already seeping through your joints as you clear your throat, toeing at a pebble. "Thanks, Buck."
"I'll see you in a bit, sweetheart."
It takes six minutes before you see headlights pool against the asphalt. Tyers squeak as he haults to a stop and Bucky hops out, tugging off his jacket and sliding it over your shoulders despite your protests, making sure to flip the hood up over your head and zip it up. He guides you towards the passenger side with a palm against your lower back without a second thought. He opens the door for you, giving you a clumsy smile as you squint playfully his way.
The instant heat from the A/C hits your cheeks immediately. You groan, clicking your seatbelt in place, before holding your hands out to the heat, using the sleeves of Bucky's hoodie like kindling. It feels like you can finally breathe again.
āYours or mine?ā He asks, shuffling into the drivers seat, shaking his wet hair like a shaggy dog, and tugging his seatbelt on.
āYours,ā You reply, unsteady and croaky. āI donāt really wanna be alone tonight.ā
Bucky nods as he drives off, āWell, lucky for you, Steve is out with Nat, and I was gonna order some takeout and watch a movie,ā he adds softly, āalso, you didnāt actually have a choice, you were coming to my place either way.ā
Letting out a laugh, your body shifts in his presence. "Better than some pity bread and 27 Dresses."
Years of friendship, odd talks and questions while walking around town at ungodly hours of the night, tipsy confessions at parties in the host's bathtub, and the closeness the two of you built, it all eases the pain and misery like balm on a wound.
"So. Talk to me." His gaze flickers over to your slumped figure. Tired eyes, damp dress, hands held outwards while you pulse your fingers to get the blood bumping.
A tired noise escapes your mouth, what was supposed to be a simple sigh, now opened the dam to the waterworks, as hard as you tried to supress the tears. You breathed in and out, counted, and Bucky kept driving, his jaw locked and tense, eyes flickering between you and the road as you as your lip trembled and eyes glossed over with unshed tears. It isn't until his hand rests on your thigh, just above your knee, giving it an assuring squeeze, does your mouth finally run. Stomach twisting with a warmth you didn't want to acknowledge.
"I don't even know why I try," you whisper, voice wavering, swallowing thickly. "I mean, the reservation was for seven, I got there at six-fifty," sinking backwards into the seat, you cross your arms, fiddling at the drawstrings. You laugh humourlessly, "I checked my phone like a dumbass every five minutes."
Bucky's hand presses your knee again, thumb caressing your skin in reassurance, humming and nodding you on.
"I waited for so long, waiters would come by asking when he would show, but I saw the looks on their faces when they turned around. After like an hour, I saw that fucking story and Iā¦" Sighing and shrugging, you barely notice the warm tears streaking down your cheeks. "I don't know why I keep finding guys like thatā¦ I feel so stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"I sat there and waited for an hour." You replied monotonously.
His chest puffs, a laugh spilling from his lungs, incredulously. Lips parting, the hand that sat snug against your thigh now wiping over his face in disbelief, and you shiver at the loss. "Why?"
"I thought, cus' it was raining a-and it's valentines, it was busy, there was no parking or something," you gulp thickly, "orā¦he couldn't find the place ā thought if I left, he'd turn up and think I bailed," hiding your face in your hands, you inhale shakily, letting the scent of Bucky invade your senses, "It was our first date, I didn't want to just give up so fast."
The car rolls to a stop, yet Bucky doesn't cut the engine, letting the heaters run just a little longer. He rubs his hands down the thighs of his jeans, exhaling a sharp breathe before turning to you. "The right guy wouldn't just leave you sitting there wondering or waiting for a whole hour. He'd make sure you never had to second guess yourself. He'd show up,"
You stare blankly at your hands in your lap, picking at your cuticles while you listen to him.
Bucky's hand grips your shoulder, "You're too sweet for your own good, y'know that?"
A small simper eases on your face, chuckling under your breath. "So i've been told." You catch his eyes, staring at you with the kind of intensity that makes your stomach flip, reciprocating the smile. The action hits your chest, a full bullseye straight into the heart that makes your ribs shiver and lip wobble.
"I just don't understand," you whisper. "Why do that? Why just waste my time?"
"Because he's a coward," he remarks immediately, catching you off guard. Whipping your head back to look at him, his eyes still latch onto your face, and his fingers tease the soft hairs at the nape of your neck. Chills errupt down your back. "C'mon, lets get you dried up. I'll order pizza."
"Buckyā"
Before you could protest, he's already retrieving his keys and shuffling out. "Nope, don't even. It's valentines and you deserve to be treated right," he adds in a murmur, "even if it's by a broke guy with takeout and a DVD."
The apartment isn't messy, but it's never exactly clean. The right amount of chaos that borders on homely, yet very obviously owned by two guys who don't really care enough.
An old leather couch sits against the wall, the couch you helped pick out with Bucky, Steve and Nat at the thrift store, strewn atop were layers of blankets; some woven, some crocheted, all piled like someone had laid among them beforehand, as well as a peaceful ball of white fluff that made herself a cave underneath the ruckus. Posters stuck neatly on the wall where the sofa rest, framed to make the place look decent, and not like the bachelor pad it absolutely is. A coffee table adorned with years of cup stains laid crooked, Steve's abandoned laptop sat shut, along with a candle you bought as a sarcastic house-warming gift, remotes and controllers.
Physical media stayed stored meticulously. DVDs and games stayed hidden beneath the TV cabinet, and CDs the roomie's shared were lined up on shelves.
It's your second home. You love it.
You jump a little as Bucky rubs your biceps, easing heat into your skin with his hoodie. "Let's go to my room, i'll get you some new clothes." he mumbles, using his hold to stir you down the hall.
His room captured his essance and charm. Nerdy, boyish, you often teased him for the 'indie sleaze' vibe that exudes from the place, but he never denied.
The little things had their order; books and CDs alphabetised were always alphabetised, though band and movie posters stuck against all four walls in no particular order, or care, but it fit too well. His bed was made, yellow and green tartan, and a messily made blanket you'd crochet after 'buying too much yarn' and 'needing a new project'. Bucky had staked claim over it at your place, always wrapping it up and over his head or using it for naps, so ultimately, you decided to bring it over one night.
You can't help the smile that seeps into your features. A little bit of you in Bucky's room.
As you stare like you haven't been in this exact spot since the moment he had moved in, he rummages through his closet, humming to himself. Gentle tunes and clicks of his tongue.
"This shirt and," he drawls, hand stretched out to pass the item ā a stretched out henley he only wears on laundry days or as a sleep shirt ā while he sticks his other hand in his drawer, tongue out and eyes squinted before pulling out some sweatpants and socks.
"These," he grunts as he stands, extending the clothes out.
"You can get changed in here, just put your laundry in the basket, I can do it later," he inhales sharply. You nod, whispering a soft thanks as he ducks his head down, hands stuffed into his pockets as he makes his way to the door. "I'll make some tea. That sound okay?"
You smile, "perfect," the word catches in your throat, "thanks again, Buck, reallyā"
He cuts you off with a straightened palm and a toothy smile, "It's nothing. You know i'd do this for you in a heartbeat," he scratches his neck while silence envelops you. Warm, syrupy, like a heavy blanket wrapped around the two of you in the dead of winter. "I'll be in the kitchen."
As the door clicks shut, your lungs deflate, only to fill with the pure scent of Bucky like your body runs on him.
Heart thumping against your chest, one thought plagues in your brain as you rid yourself of your clothes.
You need your best friend, and not in the way you'd assumed in the past.
And tonight, you can't help but believe he needs you as well.
His sweatpants droop around your hips a little and his henley sags slightly off one shoulder, baring your collarbone as you shuffle into the kitchen.
Cozy and small, fairy lights strung under the cabinets, washing the room in a soft yellow glow. Dishes stack on the drying rack; plants sit against the windowsill, half dying, yet still holding on; The fridge, covered in reciepts, reminders, stickers and magnets ā a small whiteboard reads 'need more groceries.' Followed by, 'get some then??'; Fridge-poetry stuck haphazardly in sentences created during early mornings and toothpaste stained shirts for a half second exhale through the nose; '[women] [make] [awesomest] [world]', '[drunk] [cigarettes] [do] [not] [count]', '[your] [mom]'. It's soft hum plays beneath the tension.
The floor creaks as you make your way, signaling your entry. Buck's eyes flitter up for an instant, only to look up again as you lean against the counter, despite the discomfort as it digs into your waist. He exhales at your presence, bare-faced, having wiped off your make-up in the bathroom, with a shy smile tugging your cheeks.
He's hunched over the worksurface, stirring the bags of chamomile into each respective mug, mismatched. Holding out a cup out to you with a tight lipped smile, your fingers graze as you take the drink, the soft ember that sat in the pit of your stomach since the phone call lit up once again, hitching your breath. Bucky clears his throat, ducking his head to hide the faint blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
"I got your favourite movie paused in the other room," you hum inquisitively as you press the mug to your lips, sipping softly, letting the warmth seep onto your tastebuds. "Almost Famous."
He keeps stirring the teabag around his cup, evading eye contact. You beam softly at his remembrance. "That's on streaming now?"
Shaking his head, he taps the spoon against the rim and lays it on the surface, facing you fully. "No, I-uh, I got the DVD."
āReally?" He nods, "For me?ā
āFor you,ā he replies immediately. Then, quieter, āSo youād have it here.ā
Your throat tightens. Holding the ceramic against your mouth, your arm comes up to cross over your chest.
He lifts the tea to his lips but doesnāt drink, letting the scent ease his mind. He sighs, approaching warily before he asks, āā¦ Can I ask?ā
You nod once and his cup clicks against the countertop, "why do you keep choosing the most emotionally unavailable guys?"
You snort, "straight to the point."
"I'm serious."
Leaning against the edge of the counter, inhaling deeply. The scent of the tea and Bucky lingers in the air. His cologne, the one you helped him pick out last spring; bergamot, with a hint of spice.
You huff as it hits your nose and pools in your stomach, "You're gonna laugh."
"I wont." he replies plainly, arms crossed, lips tight.
You can barely look at him in the eye, voice low and anxious, as if you've never told him your deepest secrets in the dead of night. You set your mug down beside his.
"I thinkā¦ I believe I can fix them," shrugging stiffly, you proceed feebly. "Don't know why. Something dumb inside me thinks I have this power to change them, prove people wrong when they tell me i'm just gonna get my heart broken."
Before you could register, Bucky stood upright. "Sweetheart," his hands hold your shoulders, facing him fully. His thumbs drag softly against your collarbones, barely there touches that tingle too hard and make your heartbeat shudder.
He has this smile on his face, lazy and sweet, the kind he gets after a movie marathon that ends with your head on his shoulder, trying to fight off sleep. A gentle tilt of his lips, and you cant help but stare at how pink they look.
"You dont need to prove people wrong, or fix anyone. At all. Nobody does," his thumbs don't stop their movements, but his hands ā his big, warm hands ā slowly move upwards. "You, of all people, don't deserve to put all your time and energy on some asshole who won't even think twice about you. 'Fixing' someone isn't your problem, it's not your responsibility, it's theirs."
You gulp, his hands rest against the nape of your neck like they're meant to be there, thumbs against your throat, right where your pulse thumps under his pads. It's his turn to pause, to swallow.
Silence rings thickly through the kitchen.
"Is this okay?"
Without a thought, your own hands slip around his wrists, keeping him in place. "Yeahā yes."
He nods, looking down at the floor like it had answers. Breathing in deep, expeling with puffed cheeks, he faces you again, whispering, "can I tell you something?"
"Anything." You reply. Your own thumbs graze the silky skin of his inner wrists, a move unconsious, instinctive.
"IāI, Youā" shaking his head, you smile softly at his flustered expression. He inhales again.
"I've been right here," he confesses, "watching them constantly disappoint you, use you. It makes me want to say, do, something so selfish."
Your breath hitches, hands tighten around his arms. You're so sure he can feel how hard your heart is beating through your neck, how it bumps against the henley against your chest.
"Selfish?" You ask, "how?"
He trails up your neck, tighter than before, a hold that showed protection. Fingers tangling within your locks, unlocking another hitch from your lungs without permission. You only just notice how close you two stand, chests grazing, breath against breath. And his eyes, those gorgeous blues that now sit a deep navy, darker than the deepest waters ready to swallow you up, flitter between your own and your lips.
"By making sure you never second guess yourself," he inches closer, "by giving you what you deserve," dipping down closer, his breath mingles against your slack lips, touching with barely there grazes that make your knees weak. "By letting myself want you out loud."
Neither of you move, letting the air shift heavier than before. The closeness, the contact of your hands on each others skin, the breath skimming lips, it all jumbles into one another, mixing with years of inside jokes, shared playlists and sleepovers, all suddenly rearrange themselves to reveal something hiding beneath a love once disguised as 'friendship'.
His name escapes without permission, your mouth desperate to feel the shape of his name. It tugs at his skin, "I have to show you how much you mean to me, sweetheart."
Your hands find his shirt so naturally. Bucky inhales sharply, like heās been waiting, like all the restraint he's been holding, keeping in check, can finally overflow.
The kiss is breathless. Deep, certain, clumsy with desperation and unspoken words, your tummy knots with just how sweet it feels to be needed like air.
His hands that tangled into your hair now drag down your torso, steady on your hips, anchoring you as everything from hours before collapses. Mugs sit forgotten as his touch grazes lower and his body turns to pin your back against the counter. The world narrows to heat and breath, the way you hum into his mouth, and the way he murmurs your name like itās something sacred.
Your body moves on it's own. Legs parting, hands clutching his waist as his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you accept him like you always have. Bucky slots himself between your thighs, pushing you both closer and closer, and you feel the unmistakable shape of his erection pressing into your hip. You whine in surprise as it drags against you, grabbing his waist, pressing yourself into him. He smirks into the kiss, pulling back an inch, letting the cold tip of his nose skim your cheek.
"I know," he soothes, palming down to your thighs, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, "I know, baby. C'mon, up for me." He lifts you, now sitting atop the surface and he closes the distance like no time passed.
As your hands find refuge in his hair, Bucky fingers the waistband of your sweats, tucking them into the elastic at your lower back, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, moving your hips into his own until the two of you meet in between with a corse gasp.
"Can I take these off?" He rasps against your cheek, trailing lower with each second, and each ragged exhale that sticks to your sensitive skin. "Talk to me, baby."
"Yes, yes please."
Buck's smile melts into your skin. Pressing open mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your neck, all the while his hands keep tugging the flesh of your ass, each grab becoming needier and harder as he wanders his lips down, licking and sucking. You gasp with each peck, head tipping back in ecstasy, allowing him more freedom against your tendons, grazing his teeth, nipping at your collar, only to sooth with his wet tongue.
The feeling was immeasurable, fingers curling against his soft tufts, tugging him back with a dissipated pop, spit stringing from your neck against his plump lips.
Squeezing, he nuzzles back into your clavicle, "Hips up, there we go."
Hooking your ankles behind his back and hoisting yourself up with your hands pressed against the worktop, he frees your bottom-half, tugging the sweatpants down your legs.
Unlocking your legs from behind, Bucky begins his descent. Lower, shearing over his own shirt, humming into the fabric, pinching with his lips and teeth against the curve of your breasts in worshipful reverence, before following his hands, pushing the pants off your socked feet.
Dabbing chaste kisses to your knees as he presents himself between them, he sits obediently. Palms warm atop your knees, keeping them spread wide, lips and jaw open in soft pants that tickle your inner thighs, and his eyes lock in to the sight of your panty clad core. Black lace. A matching set you kept 'just in case'. You watch him stare from above, hands slightly slipping from sweat, watching him lean in closer to where you ache for him, clutching you wide by the soft skin of your thighs.
Opening you up, he huffs a harsh breath, hot on the dampening cloth.
"Wow," he drags out, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. His thumbs pull you open, tugging each side of your lips against the lace, trapping your clit, stroking your velvety skin up and down. The shock twitches your hips, bucking your knees up, placing one foot on his shoulder, letting the other open wider. "Wore these for, whatā¦ that guy?"
Warmth blossoms from top to bottom. A new etch of redness soaks your face, as a new wave of arousal paints the lace. The scent of it hits him and his heart rate picks up, cock stiffening against his boxers, sore and craving. You begin to protest, just it's quickly silenced.
"Could've been so lucky," he sucks his teeth, "oh well." Tugging your panties off ardently, he shoves them in his pack pocket. You laugh airily, but it's quickly overthrown by a shocked gasp as his mouth finally dives between your thighs.
One long broad swipe of his tongue, flat against your cunt, collecting your arousal against his taste buds. You call out his name, one hand rakes through the back his head, grounding you, while the other steadies against the counter. Groaning, his lips purse around your clit, suckling the nerve before placing a debauched kiss atop. He pushes spit out his mouth, drooling over your lips and pulling back with a grin.
"Taste better than I imagined," he grunts. Suddenly his thumb swipes over your folds, collecting the dribble falling down, smearing it up, before pressing the pad on your clit. Soft, eager, circles that make your abs clench and jaw drop. Breathy moans and whines fill the quiet of his apartment.
He looks up at you with adoration, "sound better too." He purrs, diving straight back home, nuzzling into your cunt, moving his thumb out of the way to tease your entrance with a finger. His tongue slides through your lips, locking through your arousal, wiping broad licks over your clit. You tip your head back, eyelids fluttering as he spreads you apart.
Heaving, your legs already shake, thighs trembling, pussy pulsing in his hold, while each and every inch of your body erupts with tingles of bliss. His words don't register, can't. Not while your mind and body are too occupied with his dual attack. Tongue swiping over your clit; sucking, spitting, all while he eases his middle finger inside.
"Oh-Ohā¦ Fuck!" Your grip tightens on his scalp, eliciting a sudden moan, vibrating right against you and up your spine. Pleasure ruptures inside of you, a bittersweet ache settling in your thighs and lower back, chest heaving as your nipples peak beneath your bra.
"So fuckin' tight, Jesus, sweetheart," he says, lips pressed onto you like he didn't want to leave. A soft laugh eases, puffing air and soft reverberation, your walls cinch around his digit. His free hand pinches at your thigh, dipping into the flesh, holding you wide open for him to explore.
"Gotta to open you up real goodā¦" He contemplates, finger curling slowly inside of you, instantly grazing your soft spot, making you gasp and hips stutter. "There she isā¦ Right there, huh?"
Your hips move on their own vocation as he speeds up his pace, kissing your clit again and again, suctioning onto your bud and laving up your flavour, slurping up your slick straight from the source.
You're too focused on his mouth ā the lewd slurps he drags out, collecting your taste like nectar, you're sure the mix of his saliva and your cum now sits in a puddle below you ā to notice the second finger easing beside his middle. Only when it eases, when the two start moving in tandem, do you register the fullness. He scissors them, urging you open, curling them as they settle in deep, before retreating back. Bucky keeps up a routine, speeding up as your walls contract and pulse.
"Gonna cum, baby?" He traces, words mumbled on your slick skin. You can barely talk, not with how messy he eats, how he talks with his mouth full, feasting like a starved man, rendering a service only for your pleasure ā so you nod fervently, humming out as you do, bottom lip caught between your teeth.
He moves his free hand up, grabbing your ass to pull you closer towards the edge, kneading and rubbing, while his fingers keep petting and stroking your spongy spot. Whines and moans stay locked and murmured behind your clenched teeth as he works you open and towards release.
"Mouth open, wanna hear you cum, wanna know what you sound like," Bucky slurs. Your brain, now turned into mush, complies without protest. Your jaw slacks and lips part in harsh breaths and whines, chest heaving with each sound, giggling at yourself and how good this feels, how good he is.
Your ankles lock up against his back, keeping him trapped between your thighs, and he moans. Pulsing, the sounds you coaxed from him hit you like a train. Muscles tense, walls constrict. You lock up in a silent cry, hips twitching with your throbbing cunt as you release over his fingers. Working you through it, he eases them in time with your ebbing finish. Soft strokes of his fingers, slowly moving out, and leaving your clit with the softest kiss, making you flinch from overstimulation.
Your eyes ease shut for a moment, harsh pants weakening, and one second he's on the floor, the next, your mouth fills with an unfamiliar taste. Salty and sweet, a musk that brings a brand new ache to your still pulsing need between your thighs.
Bucky crosses your legs behind him again, and find themselves on your ass, hoisting you up around him, hard on pressed against your roused pussy, soaking his crotch in your mixed stickiness, making a rumble roll from his chest. His pants are too fucking tight.
"Bed," he breathes on your lips, already down the hall, pushing his door open with his back and kicking it shut. "Wanna do this properly."
He kisses you with severity, a heightened furiosity looms inside his gut. Now he's got a taste of you, now that you marked his mouth and fingers, he can't let go.
Laying you against the sheets of his bed, his lips rest their relentless attack, pulling back to throw his shirt to the floor, revealing his toned midsection. Your eyes follow the trail of hair down from below his navel, and into his waistband. His lips skirt across yours, licking the swell. "Tell me you want this," he whispers, "tell me you want me."
You suck in a breath, "I want you, Bucky," wiggling your hips enough to graze your bare heat against the fabric against his stiff cock. Jaw tight as you buck your hips, hissing through grated teeth, "fuck, I need you."
He stills you, hands wrapped around your pelvis, pushing you into the mattress. "You have all of me, sweetheart," Knees parting your own, widening for him.
His graze moved to your wrists, "need these, baby, desperately need 'em," God, if you knew his dirty talk was this hot, you would've grinded on his lap twelve study sessions ago. Placing your hands to his crotch, you cupped the stiffness, holding him fully within your palm. Heavy was all your brain could conjure while your fingers tentatively and curiously squeezed.
"Take 'em off for me, sweetheartā that's it, good girl."
Sure, you've been friends for a long while, seeing him in baggy sweats on lazy days, sometimes even noticing the lack of underwear when he does ā consequently noticing him pressing against his thigh, or poking out while he walks ā but nothing, not even what your imagination would conjure up late at night or while shamefully sneaking glances, would you ever believe what he was carrying around.
"You're staring, sweet girl," his palms tap your cheek gently, just enough to throw you out of your daze, "whats on your mind?"
You swallow, trying to coax any wetness to your drying mouth while your eyes flicker between his soft gaze and dripping cock. Your friend's cock that now sits heavy against his right thigh, bobbing, twitching, drooling, while you watch with parted lips.
"ā¦ You've been carrying around that thing this entire time?"
"You surprised?"
Your eyes widen a fraction, "I-I mean, Jesus, Bucky."
He hums, smoothing over your cheek, "you can take it, princess, I know you can," he taps again, "on your back, sweetheart, c'mon."
You do as you're told, lying back against his pillows, knees parted and open as he followed suit. Crawling over you, positioning himself on his haunches, and you could feel his bare cock press against your wet heat as he pushes your shirt up your tummy and over the mounds of your breasts, leaving the fabric bunched around your collar.
Bucky stares down in awe, hands dragging up and down your sides, fingertips graze the scratchy cloth where it dips into your flesh. Bottom lip blanching between his teeth, fixed at each bump with blown, dark eyes, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him. He shakes his head, a dumbfounded sound puffs from his nose.
"A matching set," he hums, "God, you sure know how to make a guy happy, huh sweetheart?"
Blushing, you turn away from his sight. Hands rendered useless by your shoulders, and grumble into the sheets below. "Shut up, Buck."
"Something about you in my clothesā¦ Under me with my shirt on," he ponders, hands pinching and grabbing at your tits, "you look so fucking beautiful, sweetheart, makes me wanna tear you apart."
A soft plea falls from your lips, a mewl hidden under your breath as he dips his hands beneath the lace and tweaks your nipples that were hidden under your flimsy bra. Your breath comes ragged and uneven, chest caving under his touch while his crotch slots against your own like a puzzle piece. Cock resting over your slick, pushing forward in tiny, subtle ruts forward, his tip laid over your tummy while you coat his shaft and heavy balls with your sticky mess.
"You like that? Want me to split you open? Make you forget everything except my name and how full you feel?" Leaning forward, he rests a hand beside your head, his other stays on your chest, pinching your tit. "Talk to me, baby, tell me what you need."
You whine out, arms slinging over your eyes in a mix of defeat and embarrassment. "I want all of it! I want you, so badā¦ Fuck, Bucky, it hurts," you laugh under your breath, tipping your hips up to try and drag his head into you somehow. You groan at the wet sounds you create, whispers spilling from the loose faucet your mouth turned into, "please, please, pleaseā"
"Needy thing just begging so good for me," he lifts himself up again, wicked smirk plastered on his face, moving your arms away from your eyes to get a good full look at you. "Don't worry, pretty girl, just let me do all the work. Let me make you feel so good."
His head falls back in a light groan as he reaches between you, holding his cock by the base, swiping up and down your lips to coat himself. Provoking you onward as he slaps his tip on your clit, quick taps quick to sting, making you gasp and twitch, legs falling open wider.
A deep moan resonates through his chest, easing the crown of his cock forward and inside you, watching how your hole swallows him. You choke on a gasp, mouth open as he softly eases his girth with easy jerks until you sheathe him fully.
"Oh fuck." Bucky leans forward, chest to chest, and your hands scramble to touch anything of him, clutching around his back, soothing upwards, until one holds onto his shoulder, and the other claims his hair again. Your lungs stutter with whines, caving in against his weight only to pull him into you tighter, trembling from the big stretch.
Heaven feels like a lost cause now that he finally knows what you feel, taste and sound like. Your walls clench and throb around him, so soft and warm, sliding right in, resistance be damned, the strain soothed with how turned on and ready he got you. He groans a sound deep from his chest, forearms rest beside your head. He tries so hard to keep it together.
Your lips graze his jaw, crawling down his neck with soft nips and kitten licks, washing off his sweat with your tongue. He moans fortuitously, and his hips start to shift. Soft grinds in and out, his sounds stick to your shoulder, ragged breaths and whispered praises into your bones, making you strangle his shaft as he works, pace quickening, wet slaps sound around the room. Pumping into you, he just can't hold it any longer, you make him so greedy and selfish
"Bucky." You sigh, grinding your hips back and forth, matching his pace. Each buck has his tip sliding through your wet inside, so tight, he keens as you throb.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sitting upright, back on his heels, Bucky pulls you towards his thrusts by your hips, using the momentum to push inside. Pounding into you frenziedly, corse fuzz tickling your clit with each jolt, soft tongue dipping out of his parted lips as he pants from the exertion. "God, you feel amazing."
He smooths a palm on your skin until his thumb skims across your clit again. The overload of pleasure stimulated to your already abused and puffy nerves drives a cry from your throat. Your nails dig into his shoulders, deep crescents marking his flesh for days to come, mouth open, unable to silence the onslaught of wanton moans and sighs that escape as he pierces your cunt over and over, and over again. You both look down your body, watching how he disappears inside, how you grip around his girth, how absolutely soaked his cock is ā you both moan at the sight, and Bucky rolls his hips, faster, fucking into you, breath trembling with each thrust.
Throwing your head back and plunges it into the pillow, you moan, and that's when he knows he's found the right spot. He pushes his dick against it, over and over as you tighten furiously, pulsing in time with your rapid heartbeat. Your jaw clenches, unable to voice or warn him of your rapture. Squeezing his cock in a tight, sopping embrace as your eyes shut tight, hands ball into fists beside your head and back arches. Bucky doesn't slow, he doesn't relent, only drags out your orgasm with harder jabs, plunging roughly with a smirk on his face.
The tightness spreads across his pelvis like a wildfire, aching his chest. He curses under his breath while his hips stutter, shaking his head, spraying tiny droplets of sweat across your skin. Involuntarily, you clench again at the stains on your skin.
"Coming on my cock that quick, huh?" He pries breathlessly. Sweat trickles down his temples, dripping onto your belly and chest. Your head wracks with words, only for your mouth to fail you, slurring each sentence into whispers.
Pausing for a split second, he flips you both over, lying on his back and cradling you in his arms, keeping you slumped against his chest with his cock sitting snug and stiff inside.
"One more, sweet girl. I know you can do it." His hands reposition you, folding your knees to bracket his waist, making sure your face rests contented against his collarbone, before smoothing up your back, pacifying you, until a tired confirmation hums out.
"Please," you're liquid in his arms, limbs rendered useless, you sluggishly attempt to wrap your hands around his neck and arch a rhythm back into your aching folds. "Yes, please."
Leaning down, Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, earning a high pitched hum. His knees prop up, feet plastered onto the sheets below. Big, warm palms now clutch the flesh of your ass as he strains, "Atta girl."
Brutal, swift, splitting. Skin slapping on skin, your wetness spits with each slap given with Buck's hips thrusting up and into you at a tranquillizing pace, frantically boring into you.
You cry out a moan, "Wanna be good for you." The pain of overstimulation mixing with the skin on skin contact and just how perfect he's hitting your spots.
"So fucking good," he replies in a growl, fingers obsessive against your cheeks, holding so tight, squeezing, you're sure to have bruises adorning the flesh by the morning. Head swinging back into the pillow with a snarl, jaw clenching, his hips don't wander off rhythm, holding this searing pleasure as he fucks into your used cunt like a fleshlight. "God, you're so fucking good."
The praise tugs everywhere in your body, pleasure unable to hold back when his encouragements exhales so smoothly from his lips. Your pussy flutters erratically, a fluctuating pattern that spasms harshly with bliss, humming into his neck with each pump his hips drive up into you ā orgasm pulling from your depths, washing over you with a shiver, shaking in his hold as he digs inside, dragging it out again, begging you to feel how amazing he makes you feel. Bucky can't care how hard he's thrusting, especially now, as you choke his cock and his balls tighten.
A whine leaves his mouth as he whispers pleas, his thrusts starting to stutter. Red lips, wet with saliva and plump from kisses, part with heaving breaths āhis brow furrows, nose crinkling like an angry kitten.
"Whereā¦ whereā"
"Insideā¦" you beg, nosing into his neck, painting his collar with soft 'please, please, please's, drooling on him slightly.
His movements become frantic, body convulsing as he lunges upwards, pulling your hips down into his once, then twice, before he buries himself inside of you. Release and solace glaze his body as he fills you with his cum ā palms clenching your skin as he humps up in tiny ruts with each rope, fucking it deep inside of you.
He pulls back after a couple of seconds, fingers easing, hips lowering softly, as he manoeuvres the both of you to the side, making sure his softening cock stays sheathed inside of your still pulsing warmth, until he's left on top of you. He lets the two of you catch your breaths, still and close in an embrace.
One arm props himself up beside your head, his free hand holds your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek, making sure you're facing him. He smiles at your features, eyes lazily shut, dribble drying at the edge of your lips, your head a dead-weight in his palm.
"You feelin' okay?" He murmurs, squishing your cheeks a little to get your attention.
You manage to coax out a hum, sleepy and satisfied.
"You did so good for me, princess."
You hum again, softer this time, a small acknowledgement.
Bucky stills himself, pausing his soft caresses against your skin. You feel a huff of warm air expel against your face, a gentle rumble of his body over yours.
"I fucked you good, didn't I." He asks, so sure of himself. And even in your daze, you can't even lie.
"ā¦ mhm." You moan softly, eyebrows bowing, cunt squeezing around him. He chuckles softly, warm breath sticking to your cheek and neck as he leans forward to lay soft kisses against your skin.
"Oh, baby," he coos, voice a mumbled vibration of amusement, nuzzling closer to your face, trailing his smile wherever he could, "got my sweet girl all dumb just from my cock. Fuck, you're so pretty like this. Should keep you here forever."
With just enough energy, you nod. The hand that held your cheek moved up to your hair, smoothing his thumb over your hairline in soft strokes.
"Yeah? Wanna stay in my bed all full and cock drunk for me?" He asks, voice pitching higher. He kisses your lips, clumsy while your mind hovers ten steps behind, and he adds in a breath. "Want you to be mine. Don't gotta worry about valentines day anymore, sweetheart, not when I'm here. Not when I got you all plugged up with my cum."
He shifts his hips, bucking with emphasis, watching how you gasp. Sore and full, exhausted and his.
Another chuckle rumbles up his chest, exhaling through his nose. He nuzzles into you again, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll wake you in an hour, make you sip some water and eat."
Biting your lip to hide a smile, you turn away, failing with a tiny snort that burns inside of him.
"There she is," he whispers, "there's my girl." Nuzzling into your hair, unbothered and relaxed, breathing in the scent of sex that's glued to your skin.
"Go on, baby, get some rest," his thumb caresses your forehead, the repeated coax, the tenderness ā his whispers, his stretch, his warmth ā it all seeps deep into your skin and eases into the nighttime. "I'll take you on a real date tomorrow, hm? No cowards this time, just you and me."
Your heart aches against your ribs as you fall deeper and deeper into sleep. His soft pillows against your head, while his naked chest blankets your own ā a dual warmth created by the both of you.
Tomorrow can't come soon enough. Even with memories of the morning after sleepovers as teens and study dates in college that ended in all-nighters fuelled by redbull and pure perseverance. You can't wait to see his sleepy figure against the morning light. Brown hair haloed by the sun, palms pressed against newly discovered skin, clammy from how long he's kept them there in his subconscious. Mumbling 'good morning's, stretching into groans, tired kisses with morning breath neither of you care about.
It's all brand new, and you don't have any reason to be scared. Not with your best friend holding your hand the whole way through.
a/n 2: no pizza and 'almost famous' 4 u lolol maybe next time babies :P
[id. A twitter post by @/Bennieeexyz
Jury duty letter came addressed to my cat.
Not a mistake. "Felix Martinez" - that's his full name according to his vet records.
My last name. His first name. Somehow he's a registered voter now.
Called the county clerk.
Me: My cat got summoned for jury duty.
Clerk: Is the name correct on the summons?
Me: Yes, but he's a cat.
Clerk: Is Felix Martinez a legal resident of this county?
Me: He's a legal cat.
Clerk: Sir, if the name matches our records, he needs to appear or file an exemption.
Me: He can't file anything. He has paws.
Clerk: You can file on his behalf.
Me: Under what exemption? There's no box for "is a cat."
Clerk: (pause) Check "unable to serve due to medical reasons."
Me: What's the medical reason?
Clerk: He's a cat.
Me: That's not a medical condition.
Clerk: It is if it prevents him from serving.
Sent in the form. Got rejected two weeks later.
"Insufficient documentation. Please provide medical professional's statement."
Took the letter to my vet.
Me: I need you to write that my cat can't do jury duty.
Vet: Why is your cat summoned for jury duty?
Me: Excellent question. No good answer.
Vet: This is the weirdest request I've gotten.
Me: Can you just write that he's medically unfit to serve?
Vet: On what grounds?
Me: He's a cat.
Vet: (started typing) "Patient is unable to serve due to species-related limitations including inability to speak, read, or comprehend legal proceedings."
Me: Perfect.
Sent it in. Got another rejection.
"Summons is mandatory. Failure to appear will result in contempt of court."
My roommate thought this was hilarious.
Roommate: Felix is going to jail.
Me: This is serious.
Roommate: Bring him to court. See what happens.
Decided that was actually the only option left.
Day of jury duty, put Felix in his carrier. Brought the entire paper trail of rejection letters.
Checked in at the courthouse.
Clerk: Name?
Me: Felix Martinez.
Clerk: (looked at the cat carrier) Is that Felix?
Me: Yes.
Clerk: (long stare) He's a cat.
Me: I've been saying that for six weeks.
Clerk: Why didn't you file an exemption?
Me: I filed three. All rejected.
Showed her the letters. She read through them, expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.
Clerk: Someone rejected the veterinary documentation?
Me: Twice.
Clerk: (called her supervisor over) You need to see this.
Supervisor read everything. Looked at Felix. Looked at me.
Supervisor: How did a cat get registered to vote?
Me: You tell me.
Supervisor: This is a data error.
Me: Took you six weeks to figure that out.
They dismissed Felix immediately. Apologized for the inconvenience.
Supervisor: We'll remove him from the voter registry.
Me: Appreciate it.
Supervisor: (pause) Out of curiosity, how would he have voted?
Me: Probably whatever party supports universal treats.
Got a formal apology letter a week later and a voter registration card.
For me this time. Apparently I wasn't registered, but my cat was.
Roommate: Felix committed voter fraud.
Me: Felix committed nothing. He's innocent.
Roommate: That's what they all say.
Felix is sleeping on the jury summons now.
Fitting end to his legal career.
end id]
bucky x personal assistant!reader
personal assistant rules: donāt crush on bucky barnes. definitely donāt misinterpret a flower purchase and spiral into silent heartbreak, and absolutely never ever get stuck alone with him in an elevator.
āā tags āæ
18+ content minors dni, smut, oral (f receiving), public (ish) sex?, wall sex (?), okay they fuck in an elevator guys, kissing, angst, miscommunication (not badly), hurt/comfort, there's some plot if you squint, insecure/self-conscious reader undertones, reader is an overthinker, reader is horny lol, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything
word count: 9.1k
āā authors note āæ
hi, hopefully this will keep you all fed while i work on part five to lessons in lovemaking. finally getting around to some of these requests in my inbox. this one is based off this request, but i changed it up so the reader is a PA instead of an avenger. lmk your thoughts thanx for reading <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.
āā main masterlist āĖāæĖĀ°
Youād never pegged Natasha as the type who enjoyed flowers.
No, she struck you more as the encrypted-flash-drive-on-a-park-bench type, the kind of woman who appreciated mysteries with teeth. A custom leather jacket, stitched with the same precision she used to dismantle a glock. One of those sleek, low motorcycles. Not daisies. Not peonies. And definitely not whatever soft, pastel nonsense Bucky was currently handing over cash for.
You stood a few feet away, halfway hidden behind a sidewalk sign advertising oat milk lattes and gluten-free muffins, clutching a cardboard drink tray and a bag full of vegan pastries in a death grip. The barista had spelt āBruceā as āBrooseā again, and under any other circumstance, that would've made you laugh, but now it felt like the most irrelevant thing in the world.
You liked Natasha. You respected her. You just didnāt think she had it in her to giggle over roses like the girls in those sappy rom-coms Clint insisted he hated (right before he would watch three in a row, a beer in each hand). But there Bucky was, brushing pollen off a bouquet of pale pink ranunculus, face soft in a way youād never seen during mission briefings or sparring sessions.
And suddenly, you were building a list in your head of all the things you were sure Natasha Romanoff would rather receive as a romantic gesture: a knife, balanced perfectly for throwing, an expensive bottle of vodka, a vintage chess set with hand-carved pieces, a bottle of expensive ink and a fountain pen with a sharp nib, cookiesāmessy onesāoverloaded with chocolate chips, or simply just black coffee, straight from the pot, no sugar, no cream. Yet, as Bucky handed it over to the redhead, she smiled. Smiled. And suddenly you felt like you were witnessing a scene you were not welcome to.Ā
Truthfully, it stung. Maybe it stung a little more than what was appropriate. Youād been harbouring a quiet crush on the dark-haired, sullen supersoldier from the moment he joined the team. Fresh out of Wakanda, new vibranium arm in tow, and god, he was handsome. Not in the polished, television commercial way Steve was, but in a way that made your pulse skip and your thoughts stall mid-sentence. He had the kind of face you didnāt know how to look at for too long, sharpened jaw, stormy-blue eyes, and a mouth that always looked on the verge of saying something heād regret.
There was something electric about his stillness. Like if you leaned in close enough, youād hear the hum of danger beneath his skin. He walked like a man who never quite trusted, drifting through the tower like he expected a fight around every corner. He barely spoke, but when he did, his voice was low and gravel-worn, something that settled right in your gut and made its home there.
He never smiled. Not really. But sometimesāsometimesāyouād catch a flicker of it when Sam teased him, or when Steve nudged him just right, and it was devastating.
And yeah, maybe you had a soft spot for broken things trying to heal.
As the Avengersā personal assistant, it was your job to keep everyone comfortable, informed, and running like clockwork. You were a one-person organisational machine, constantly juggling the chaos that came with managing a tower full of enhanced individuals with the emotional range of a brick wall to a nuclear reactor. Your days were a blur of colour-coded schedules, back-to-back briefings, and the never-ending group chats.
You coordinated mission debriefs, booked international flights with military clearance, and handled press requests that would make most people cry. You endured complaints when Thor overloaded the power grid again, trying to make toast, and even replaced the mugs he shattered before anyone noticed. You wrangled Clintās kids when they came to visit, sourced obscure snacks from remote parts of the world because Sam liked those protein bars, not the other ones, and Steve wouldnāt touch anything processed. You replaced a record number of coffee machines, hunted down whatever special detergent could get oil out of Tonyās designer shirts. You knew which brand of muscle balm Banner preferred and how to order it without triggering a random Homeland Security check.
And then there was Bucky.
With him, it was always a little extra, whether he noticed or not. His schedule came first in your Monday morning rounds. You made sure the pantry was stocked with the Eastern European tea he liked but never asked for, and remembered the exact setting he preferred on the towerās training room temperature controls. You adjusted group plans so heād be paired with Steve or Sam, just in case the crowds and questions became overwhelming. When he disappeared for a few hours, you didnāt ask questions, but you made sure no one came looking. You even swapped out the scratchy tags in his mission gear with soft ones, because he never complained, but you noticed the way he fidgeted with them.
Every day, youād beam at him like some hopelessly love-struck idiot when you handed over his usual coffeeāblack, two brown sugars, just the way he liked itāand in return, heād offer little more than a grunt. A low, barely-there sound that most people wouldnāt even register as a greeting. But you did. Somehow, that grunt became the highlight of your day.
So yeah, maybe seeing him hand over flowers to Natasha broke something in you. Not just a hairline fracture, but a quiet, splintering break that left your chest aching in places you didnāt know could hurt. Still, you understood. Natasha belonged to his world, effortlessly cool, all smoke, shadows and secrets. Yet she was kind. Not cold or unapproachable, justā¦ carved from something rarer than you. The kind of woman who didnāt need to try to be extraordinary, she just was.
And you? You were the sweet, well-meaning assistant who made people laugh in the kitchen, who fetched dry cleaning and remembered everyoneās birthdays. You were the one who labelled tupperware and chased down Clintās kids with bandaids. You were an afterthought, the background noise in the buzzing hive which was the Avengers Tower.Ā
So maybe you could justify feeling jealous, but angry? No. Not really. They didnāt know. They couldnāt know. And it wasnāt their fault that youād let yourself hope.
Two weeks later, and you timed it perfectly, like you always did.
Just as the door to Buckyās apartment clicked open, you rounded the cornerāfolder in hand, clipboard tucked tight to your side. The hallway was quiet, save for the low hum of ventilation and the soft thud of your heels against the carpet. Bucky stepped out, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair tied back, and his hoodie sleeves shoved up just enough to show the gleam of vibranium. Predictable. It was routine, every morning just before six he would meet with Steve in the gym. On Mondays, youād catch him just as he exited his apartment, unload the details for the week, a freshly printed schedule and all.Ā
āMorning,ā you said lightly, handing him the weekās itinerary. His reply was his usual, a grunt. Not annoyed. Not grateful. Just Bucky. That gruff, barely-there sound that once felt like a small victory. The kind of grunt that used to warm your chest when he followed it with a question, even if you knew the answer was printed in the folder youād triple-checked. You always answered anyway. You liked having his attention, even just for a few seconds.
You used to dress the folders up with care, multicoloured sticky notes marking key tasks (blue for meetings, yellow for reminders, red for anything urgent and green for personal events). Youād highlight sections like traffic lights, add stickers you thought might make him smile, sometimes even scribble little crooked cartoons in the margins with cheesy encouragementsāseize the day!Ā
The folder looked rather sad today, just a plain manila folder packed with stapled papers. No colours. No stickers. No effort. Just the essentials. You didnāt let your fingers dawdle when he took it. Didnāt smile like you used to. Just handed it over and kept your gaze somewhere past his shoulder.
Bucky took it slowly, eyes flicking down at the cover like he was trying to spot something that wasnāt there. His brow pinched, barely, but enough for you to notice. His fingers lingered on the edge of the folder, like he thought maybe heād missed a note tucked inside.
You nodded and turned to leave, forcing yourself to shift your mind to your next chore mentally, restocking med supplies in the Quinjet, cross-checking Clintās revised travel forms, hunting down the coffee machine Tony had threatened to ārepurpose as target practiceā. Youād have to order a replacement before the morning debrief. Double-check everyoneās dietary preferences. Update Steve on the tech room schedule. Get maintenance to repaint the lines in the training room because someone (probably Thor) had scuffed them again.
You stayed busy. It helped. Kind of.
But the guilt still trailed you like a shadow.
It was probably obvious how abruptly you changed. The way your voice had lost its warmth. The way your gaze dodged his like it might burn you. You wondered if he noticed, if he thought you'd simply grown tired of him. Maybe he had. That was better than the truth that you couldnāt stand to be near him, not when every glance felt like pressing fingers to a bruise youād caused yourself.Ā
You had made your choice, professionalism. The kind of cool, curated detachment you admired in Natasha, only it felt all wrong on you, like an ill-fitting coat. You knew it was for the better, not mixing up work and matters of the heart. Youād already let your little crush spiral too far, thinking maybeājust maybeāif you tried hard enough, youād earn more than a grunt. That he might see you as something more than the charming assistant with her clipboard and her stupid stickers. But he didnāt. And he wouldnāt. And that was fine. It had to be.
You couldnāt afford to fall apart over a man who had no idea heād broken your heart.
But it was Buckyās voice, soft and unsure, that startled you from your thoughts. āHey.ā
You paused mid-step and turned, forcing a tight smile that didnāt quite meet your eyes as your fingers curled against the clipboard. āWhatās up?ā
He shifted his weight, clearly caught off guard by the fact that you stopped walking at all. He was rather devastating to look at when he grew all shy and unsure, fingers fidgeting against the edge of the folder like he didnāt know what to do with them. He didnāt quite meet your eye as his weight shifted nervously, like he hadnāt thought before he called out.Ā
āUh. Nothinā. Justāā He raised the folder slightly, an awkward gesture. āYou usually give me the rundown. Yāknowā¦ what everyoneās doing. Whoās where. Who Iām stuck with.ā
You swallowed. Of course, heād noticed. Of course, heād grown used to your chatter about meetings and mission rosters, about who was off-world and who was due back, like it was the weather. The casual, effortless way you used to tell him what movie was playing, who cheated at Monopoly the night before, or which team member had stolen the last protein bar. Youād always done it to help, keep him grounded, and make him feel like part of the team, like he belonged.Ā
But after what youād seen two weeks ago, you were sure he didnāt need that from you anymore. Natasha would look out for him now. Sheād keep him balanced, keep him fed, keep him from slipping through the cracks.
āNothing interestingās happening,ā you shrugged. āJust the usual.ā
He didnāt move. āWellā¦ thereās that dinner. On Friday.ā
You gave a curt nod, tone clipped. āYes.ā
āWandaās dinner,ā he added, as if you hadnāt already acknowledged it.
āCorrect.ā
He hesitated again, brows drawing together in a faint crease of worry. You could see him floundering, stuck in some internal scramble. It made your chest ache because you knew that look. Youād helped talk him down from that look more times than anyone else in the tower probably realised.
You sighed quietly through your nose, against your better judgment, against every wall youād tried to build in the past week, you caved. He looked five seconds away from spiralling.
āItās in there,ā you offered gently, nodding toward the folder. āOn your schedule.ā
āRight. Itās justā¦ for me, you usuallyā¦ā His voice trailed off, frustration and uncertainty knotting in his brow. āSorry. Youāre probably busyāā
That felt like a punch to the gut.Ā
You shook your head and, before your pride could stop you, your feet were already moving back toward him. His eyes dropped as you reached into your pocket for a pen, scribbling āWandaās Dinner ā Fridayā on a green sticky note. Green for personal events, always. You hesitated, then added a smiley face underneath. You peeled it off and stuck it neatly onto the folder in Buckyās hands.Ā
His eyes dropped to it, finger brushing over the paper like he didnāt quite understand why it mattered so much. āThanks.ā
You just nodded, already stepping back, spine straight, pretending your heart wasnāt hammering in your throat.
āShe saidā¦ā Bucky cleared his throat, clearly not done with the conversation. āWanda said sheās going to do curry.ā
You paused, unsure what to do with the information. Why was he telling you that? Why was he still talking?
āThatās nice,ā you said carefully, not sure what to do with this strange, lingering version of him.
āAre you going?ā he asked suddenly, and you frowned.
āI wasnāt invitedāā You began, already covering from the invasive thoughts, already working to mask the sting. You didnāt want to imagine them next to each other over curry, leaning close, whispering in the way people did when they thought no one else was watching. It would only make the crack in your chest worse.
āYou should go,ā Bucky said quickly, cutting across your thoughts. āIāll tell Wanda youāre coming.ā
āThatās not necessary. Iāll be busy that night anywayā¦ā You lied through your teeth, heart thumping hard against your breastbone as Buckyās face crumpled a bit. You cut in before he could argue any further.Ā āYouāre going to be late. For the gym. Itās nearly six.ā
āRight, shit, yeah. Sorry, I justā¦ā He trailed off again, rubbing the back of his neck. āThanks. Iāllā¦ Iāll see you around.ā
You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if you were more confused or stunned by his sudden jitters.
Before the whole flowers incident, you made it your unofficial mission to āaccidentallyā bump into Bucky as many times as humanly possible in a day. Now? It was the opposite. Every hallway was a trap to avoid, every room a potential ambush. Navigating the Tower had turned into something between a tactical stealth op and a personal game of hide-and-seek.
Unfortunately, your strategy for quiet withdrawal hadnāt gone unnoticed.
In fact, Bucky had picked up on your sudden cold shoulder almost immediately. The folder debacle had only been the first of many increasingly awkward run-ins.
There was the time youād practically sprinted away from the elevator when the doors slid open to reveal him standing inside, a brow raised and coffee in hand. Or when you turned a corner too fast and walked straight into him, muttering a rushed apology before disappearing again like you were being hunted. Then there was the silent, painful breakfast youād shared at the communal kitchen counter, where you busied yourself with peeling an orange for ten minutes straight while he sat beside you, occasionally glancing over like he wanted to say something but didnāt know how to begin.
Youād even pretended to be asleep on the common room couch when he walked in one evening, piles of paperwork scattered, laptop still open, only for him to drape a throw blanket over you before quietly leaving again.
And yet, instead of giving you space like youād expected and hoped for, he seemed to find any excuse to be around you. He trailed after you like some misplaced puppy whenever he wasnāt buried in a mission or holed up in a meeting.
Youād assumed that the moment you stepped back, heād naturally gravitate toward spending more time with Natasha. It made sense. Why wouldnāt he want to be around her? They were obviously dating, even if they hadnāt made it official yet. Maybe it was one of those quiet, close things kept just between friends, like Steve and Sam. Who were you to come barreling in and expose their secret entanglement? You expected Bucky to be relieved to no longer be on the receiving end of your babbling, your perfectly-timed coffee deliveries, or the not-so-subtle gifts you littered around.Ā
But if anything, Bucky seemed determined to figure you out. Like your sudden shift had become his new pet project, and he was personally committed to cracking the case.
Youād taken the back hallway, the long, winding route that steered well clear of the gym on your way to the shared office. High-traffic areas were too risky nowātoo many chances to run into him. But clearly, Bucky had caught onto your little detours, because as you turned the corner, there he was, headed straight toward you.
You froze for half a second, pulse quickening. Turning around would be too obvious. Suspicious. Heād know exactly what you were doing, and then your carefully-constructed avoidance strategy would unravel entirely. If he suspected anything now, you were one panicked backpedal away from confirming it.
It was a nightmare. And a daydream.
A part of you, some soft, hopelessly romantic piece, ached at the sight of him, at the quiet way he seemed to look for you, worry always etched into his brow like you were some puzzle he couldnāt quite solve. But the rational part of your mind, the part that had dragged you into this self-imposed emotional lockdown, screamed that letting him get closer again would only undo all the fragile healing youād managed to piece together.
So you steeled yourself.
Shoulders squared. Laptop and paperwork clutched like a lifeline. Eyes locked on an imaginary point just past his shoulder. If you kept walking and moved quickly, calmly, maybe heād let you go. Perhaps heād pretend not to notice how your pace picked up and your gaze carefully avoided his.
You nearly made it.
But of course, he noticed.
āHey, waitāā
His voice was hesitant, just enough pressure to pull you to a stop. Your footsteps faded into the hush of the corridor, your spine straightening instinctively as you turned. Bucky stood a few paces behind, one hand lifted halfway between reaching and retreating, like heād almost grabbed your arm but lost the nerve.Ā
He looked sheepish. Timid, even. It killed you.
You swallowed. āYeah?ā
He scratched the back of his neck, boots scuffing lightly against the floor. āDid Iā¦ forget to grab my coffee this morning? Orā¦ did you not bring it?ā
A pause. Too long. You could feel the beat of your pulse behind your sternum as you forced a casual shake of your head.
āNo, sorry. Thatās on me. Slipped my mind.ā
The lie didnāt sit well in your mouth.
It hadnāt slipped your mind, in fact, it was still sitting on the corner of your desk, cooling beside a stack of unfinished paperwork. Youād brewed it, as always. Even used the brown sugar he liked. But then youād walked away from it, deliberately, like some idiotic breadcrumb trail you hoped he might follow.
God, you were pathetic.
Your stupid fucking brain couldnāt even decide what it wanted anymore. One half of you was charting escape routes through the tower to avoid him, the other was fantasising about him pinning you to the nearest wall. From the way your thighs pressed together now, breath catching as his voice brushed over you, maybe the answer wasnāt distance at all. Perhaps you just wanted to taste himā
He didnāt move. Just stood there, one brow lifted, faint worry creasing the edge of his expression.
āYouāre usually down by the gym by nine,ā he said, his voice low. āItās eleven.ā
āIām running a bit behind today.ā
āYou usually text me if youāre running behind.ā
āWell,ā you said, shrugging like it didnāt matter, āI didnāt this time.ā
He paused, the silence between you laced with something dangerously close to concern. āIs everything alright?ā
You forced a small laugh, trying to shake off how his low, worried voice made heat pool in your gut. āYeah. Why?ā
āYou seem off.ā
There it was. Soft, plain and far too knowing. He said it in that maddeningly sincere way that only he could manage. Like he actually gave a damn. Like this wasnāt unravelling you by the day.
Your shoulders tensed. āOff?ā
āYeah,ā he said gently. āJustā¦ I dunno. Youāve been quiet lately.ā
He didnāt know. He couldnāt know about the hours you spent spinning in your head like a lunatic, trying to compartmentalise this crush until it shrank into something survivable. About the way youād stared blankly at Tinder profiles, your phone clutched in your hand, wondering why no one else ever came close, why none of them were him.
Why you couldnāt stop thinking that if youād just told himāconfessed that stupid crush before Natasha didāmaybe you wouldnāt be standing here now like some stray mutt, sniffing around for scraps of attention.
Maybe then heād be yours.
Maybe then you wouldnāt be fantasising about quitting just to put yourself out of your own misery like some lame racehorse.
His brows furrowed further. āThatās not good.ā
āIāll survive.ā
Would you, though?
Would you survive the heat that flared low in your stomach every time he got too close? Would you survive the ache that gnawed behind your ribs every time he glanced over at Natasha like you didnāt exist? Would you survive the constant, desperate craving to be touched by him? To be looked at like she was looked at?
He didnāt speak for a second, and for a moment, you were sure he could smell the reek of desperation on you.
āThe oranges in the fridge are gone.ā
You blinked. āWhat?ā
āAnd the tea. The fancy one,ā he added. āThe one with the dried raspberries in it. Youāre the one who always restocks them, arenāt you?ā
You looked down, fingers clenching around your folder. āIāll add it to the list.ā
āI didnāt mean it like that,ā he said quickly, stepping forward a half-inch, enough to make your breath hitch. āI justā¦ I didnāt realise it was you. Doing all of that.ā
Of course, he hadnāt because youād made it invisible. Seamless. That was the kind of care you practisedāsilent, anticipatory, never asked for, never returned. You had cared for him with a thousand tiny efforts, but he never noticed until you stopped.
You looked up, and the hallway felt suddenly too narrow. His face was open in a way you hadnāt seen in a long time. Gentle, confused, like he was trying to work you out and couldnāt quite bear not knowing.
You dropped your gaze. āI said Iāll do it.ā
He paused. You could feel him thinking again.
Then, to your disappointment, he slowly nodded. āOkay.ā
But he didnāt move. Not right away. He lingered like someone who hadnāt yet decided if leaving was the right call, like he was caught between concern and curiosity.Ā
āIāll leave you to it, I guess.ā
You didnāt answer. Couldnāt. You just nodded and turned, walking away quickly before he could see your face fall, before he could catch the naked want in your expression, the way your heart was clawing against your ribs, screaming for you to turn around and ruin everything.
If time travel were an option, you'd gladly launch yourself into a wormhole and strangle your past self for being stupidāno, lovesickāenough to organise this little errand. You deserve it, really. A swift kick to the gut from future-you for being this hopeless.
Youād spent weeks wrangling Avengers into fitting appointments, helping them choose fabrics and cuts, managing last-minute alterations and tracking shipments. It was exhausting but under controlā¦until the catch. The aggravating, absurdly attractive, brooding catch currently sitting across from you in the tailorās waiting room, his knee bounced like it was transmitting a detailed morse code manifesto on every possible way he planned to ruin your day.
The plan had been simple: grab an Uber, pick up the garments, pressed, stitched, and boxed to perfection and head back to the tower. But then you got the call. The one that told you Bucky Barnes had missed his final fitting, and that his suit needed some last-minute adjustments...
Of course he did.
Of all your perfectly laid plans, it only took one missed appointment to bring it all crashing down. Now here you were, stuck waiting beside the man who occupied far too much of your brain lately, silently praying the tailor would finish quickly so you could escape before your sanity, or your dignity, completely unravelled.
āI really am sorry,ā Bucky said for what felt like the fiftieth time.
Between the brooding and the nervous leg tapping, heād spent the last five minutes watching the side of your face with an expression so guilty it was practically carved into him.
āLike I said, itās fine.ā You replied, though it came out a little too tight, a little too forced, like you were speaking through clenched teeth. Which, maybe you were. Not that it mattered. Not when you could smell his cologne from how damn close he was sitting. God, you wanted to lean over and bury your face in his chest and just inhaleā
You straightened abruptly, shoulders stiffening as the tailor entered the room, and mentally reacquainted yourself with the concept of boundaries.
It had been an hourāsixty minutes of waiting while Buckyās suit got its final adjustments. An hour of you trying to distract yourself with work emails and unanswered texts, pretending the man beside you wasnāt single-handedly causing your emotional stability to nosedive. At least when heād stepped away to get re-measured, you could breathe without risking spontaneous emotional combustion.
āWould you like to try it on before we package it up for travel?ā the tailor asked, her voice gentle. A measuring tape hung loosely around her neck, her pinned bun fraying slightly at the edges.
Bucky looked at you again, eyes flicking toward yours like he needed permission. You swallowed what was left of your pride and gave him a slight, strained nod.
āItās okay,ā you said quietly. āGo on.ā
āIām sorryāagaināthis is probably eating into your whole afternoon, I know how busy you areāā
āItās fine. Really. Just go.ā
He offered a sheepish smile before disappearing behind the velvet curtain, tugging it closed with a rustle. You pressed your fingers to your temples, let your head drop into your hands, and exhaled through your nose like it might stop your heart from trying to break out of your chest.
Across the counter, the tailor glanced up at you with a sympathetic look as she readied the boxes for the other garments. āLong day?ā she asked gently.
You lifted your head, managing a tight smile that didnāt quite reach your eyes.
āOnly going to get longer.ā
You were still nursing the tail end of your sigh when the velvet curtain swished open again.
And then your brain stopped working.
Bucky stepped out in full formal attire, sharp navy suit, tailored within an inch of its life. The cut of it hugged his frame perfectly. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, long legs. A deep navy waistcoat peeked out beneath the jacket, the subtle sheen of the fabric catching the light just enough to look expensive without being flashy. His tie was already perfectly knotted, like heād done this a hundred times, and the sleeves of his shirt revealed just enough of the polished metal edge of his vibranium arm to make your mouth dry.
He cleared his throat softly, tugging at one cuff. āHowās it look?ā
You blinked. Opened your mouth. Closed it again.
Words? No. Words were gone. Your vocabulary had packed up and left the building.
Bucky shifted his weight, clearly mistaking your slack-jawed silence for disapproval. āItās weird, right? The waistcoat maybe doesnāt work, I told her I wasnāt sure about itāā
āNo,ā you said quicklyātoo quickly. āNo, itāsā¦ Itās perfect. You lookā¦ great. Seriously.ā
His brows lifted slightly, a flicker of something you couldnāt quite place crossing his face. Relief, maybe?Ā
āYeah?ā he said, glancing down at himself, tugging slightly at the jacket hem. āI feel better about it now. The sleeves fit properly this time. Thanks for waiting.ā
The tailor beamed from behind the counter, clearly proud of her work. āWonderful. Iāll box it up immediately once youāre out of it.ā
Bucky nodded, but the tailor turned to you with a friendly smile before he could disappear again.
āAnd for you, would you like to try your gown on as well before I pack it away?ā
You blinked, suddenly snapped out of your holy-shit-Bucky-hot-hot-hot haze. āMy what?ā
She gestured toward the row of garment bags. āMr. Stark sent over your measurements earlier this month. Thereās a gown here for you.ā
You frowned. āThat must be a mistake. Iām just the assistant. None of those are for me.ā
The tailor hesitated. āI donāt think soā¦ He was very clear. Your name was attached to the order.ā
Before you could argue, Bucky cut in smoothly, like heād seen this train coming and stepped in to redirect it.
āTony probably just wanted you to look the part, too,ā he said, voice low and casual. āYouāve done all the work, he probably figured you deserved to enjoy the night a little. Might as well try it on, just in case.ā
You glanced at him, but he didnāt look smug or teasing. Justā¦ earnest. Calm. Like he meant it. Which made it all the harder to protest.
āFine.ā You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face. āJust to check it fits.ā
The tailor clapped her hands together. āWonderful. Itās a beautiful gown, I promise.ā
You gave Bucky one last side-eye before following her toward the changing rooms, the fabric bag already in her hands.
From behind, you could hear him chuckle under his breath.
āJust wait 'til you see her,ā the tailor murmured to herself, and you werenāt sure whether to be flattered or deeply, deeply nervous.
The gown was heavier than you expected. Luxurious fabric slipped off the hanger like water, pooling in your arms as she handed it over with the kind of reverence usually reserved for wedding dresses.
āIāll give you a minute,ā she smiled, disappearing to finish boxing up the suits.
Left alone in the changing room, you peeled out of your clothes, letting the gown slide on over your hips, your waist, up past your ribs. It clung like it had been sewn directly onto your body, the bodice snug, the neckline just daring enough to make you blush.Ā
You twisted to try to reach the zipper at the back, fingers fumbling and straining, but the angle was impossible. You spent the better part of five minutes twisting in the mirror like a lunatic, trying to reach the zipper that refused to budge. Your arms ached. The corset bodice was half-fastened. You were flushed, annoyed, and far too aware of the sliver of bare spine still exposed.
You were about to peek your head out and ask the tailor for help when a low voice cut in behind the curtain.
āNeed a hand?ā
You flinched, fabric clutched to your chest. āJesus, Bucky! Donāt sneak up on me like that!ā
āDidnāt mean to scare you.ā His voice was rougher than usual, like heād just cleared his throat. āHeard you cursing. Tailor said sheād be a minute out back.ā
You hesitated, and your voice came out thin. āYeah. IāI canāt get it up.ā
āOkay,ā he replied, oddly determined. āTurn around.ā
You cracked the curtain open a pinch. He ducked inside, too broad for the narrow space, his frame practically filling it. He was careful not to look at you directly, at least at first.
You turned slowly, presenting your back. āJust the zipper,ā you murmured, barely trusting your own voice.
āSure,ā
A single fingertip, cold metal, dragged up from the base of your spine to the dip between your shoulder blades. It barely touched the skin, but you shuddered from the sensation. Bucky wasnāt even fastening yet, just tracing the line the zipper would follow. The sound you made was too soft to catch.Ā
The zipper came up slowly. Agonisingly. His knuckles brushed your skin every inch of the way, not by accident. No, this was too slow, too precise, to be innocent.
He was savouring it.
His other hand steadied you, palm ghosting just over your hip. His breath fanned warm against your shoulder.
āYouāre trembling,ā he commented.
You swallowed hard, unable to muster a response.Ā
When he reached the top, his hand didnāt fall away. Instead, he swept your hair off your shoulder completely, fingertips grazing the line of your throat as he let it fall over one side.
He leaned in. Not touching, but close. Mouth just behind your ear. The heat of his breath against your neck.Ā
āShouldāve let me help sooner,ā he whispered, voice like a purr. āWouldāve had you dressed in seconds.ā
You didnāt answer. You couldnāt. Your lips parted slightly, breath caught somewhere halfway as your lungs deflated in shock. And maybe it was the gown. Or the silence. Or the way your thighs pressed together of their own accord, but you didnāt move. You didnāt step away.
You leaned in.
Only a fraction. Just enough.
He noticed.
You could feel it in the slight shift of his stance. The faint sound of him exhaling a chuckle through his nose. The way his hand brushed ever-so-slightly along the small of your back before falling away.
And then he was gone.
He stepped back like nothing had happened. Like the tension wasnāt choking the air between you. You turned toward the mirror in a daze.
The dress shimmered in the soft light. Deep, elegant, form-fitting. The neckline exposed the curve of your breasts, the slit at your thigh scandalous enough to make you self-conscious.
You caught his reflection in the mirror. He was watching you, but not with the restrained professionalism you were used to. It was only the sudden reentrance of the tailor that made him hesitate in whatever words were forming on his tongue. He stepped aside, finally giving you space to exit. And you didālegs shaky, palms sweatingālike a deer walking straight back into the forest fire, pretending it wasnāt about to burn.
You'd been so laser-focused on your tasks that you'd almost managed not to think about Bucky in that goddamn changing room. His fingers ghosting up your bare spine like a spark setting fire to dry kindling. Youād folded instantly. Your body betrayed you instantly while your brain screamed to keep it together. Pathetic.
The moral implications of whatever that moment had been were filed away for another day. Were you the other woman? Was Natasha going to slit your throat in your sleep? What was Bucky doing, touching you like thatāin a public changing room, no lessāwhen he had a bombshell redhead waiting for him back at the Tower?
You pressed the elevator button with your elbow and exhaled as the doors slid open.
Drop off the food. Grab a free drink. Drown your Bucky-related sorrows. Maybe, just maybe, keep the beast between your legs from waking at the mere sight of him.
The doors began to close. You shifted your weight, careful with the boxes balanced in your armsā
Then someone slipped through at the last second.
Him.
Bucky fucking Barnes.
Tall and devastating as usual in his dark navy suit, his tie loosened just enough to suggest mischief, or maybe carelessness. You werenāt sure which one made you feel worse.
Your breath hitched. Instinctively, your gaze dropped to the floor, feigning sudden, all-consuming interest in the stability of your precarious tower of hors d'oeuvres. But teetering stacks of overpriced finger food or not, Bucky didnāt seem inclined to play along with your avoidance act. Not now. Not when the elevator doors had sealed you in together, finally, and you were without escape.
You winced at the sound of his sharp inhale, the question already pressing past his lips before the elevator even jolted into motion.
āDid I do something to piss you off?ā
You didnāt look up. Eyes fixed firmly on the floor, you muttered, āWhat?ā
āI justā¦ā His voice was rough. Tired. āIt feels like youāve been avoiding me.ā
Shit.
He stepped forward slightly. Not enough to be invasive. Just enough to make your stomach flip.
āYou hardly talk to me anymore,ā he continued. āWonāt even look at me unless itās about work. And even then, itās like youāre somewhere else. Did I do something to offend you? Hurt you? Just tell me what I did so I can fix it.ā
The elevator hummed to life beneath your feet, gliding upward smoothly. You shifted your weight, bracing against the cool metal rail, eyes stubbornly fixed on the buttons, anywhere but his maddeningly perfect face.
āYou havenāt done anything,ā you said quietly, the words tasting sour the second they left your mouth.
āThen why are you doing it now?ā he asked, eyes searching yours. āWhy wonāt you even look at me?ā
āBuckyā¦ā
āPlease. Just tell me.ā
You hesitated. His hand twitched like he meant to reach for your arm, then faltered, falling back to his side. Your grip tightened on the containers, your fingers slick with sweat. āItās not you,ā you murmured. āItās meā¦ I justā¦ā
He didnāt move. Didnāt even blink.
āPlease,ā he said again, quieter now. āTell me the truth.ā
āOkay,ā you said, breath hitching as a nervous laugh bubbled out, half-bitter, half-resigned. āYou want the truth? Fine. Youāre going to think Iāve completely lost it.ā
He stayed quiet, letting you spiral.
āThis is so stupid,ā you muttered. āI like you, Bucky. There. I said it. I like you. And it was fineāmanageableāuntil it wasnāt. Until I started imagining things. Thinking maybeā¦ maybe you liked me too.ā
His eyebrows lifted, surprised but unreadable.
āIāve had this massive, embarrassing crush on you since the moment I met you. And I know itās weird, and probably unprofessional because youāre kinda my boss, but not. Technically, Tonyās my boss, but I basically manage everything around here, andāugh, Iām rambling.ā You squeezed your eyes shut. āI like you. And Iāve been avoiding you because it was getting out of hand. I couldnāt stop thinking about you. And it felt wrong. Especially since youāre dating Natasha, which just made everything worseāā
āWhat?ā he interrupted, voice sharp. āIām not dating Natasha.ā
Your eyes snapped open. āThatās what you took from all of that?ā
āNo, Iāwait. You think Iām dating Natasha?ā
āYes!ā you burst out, cheeks flaming. āI saw you! At the Sunday market about a month ago with the flowersāā
His brow furrowed. āWhat flowers?ā
āThe bouquet you gave her.ā
āI didnāt give Natasha flowers.ā
You let out a dry, disbelieving laugh. āI saw you. It was that dumb little market Tony makes me go to for those overpriced vegan pastries Pepper lovesāā
Bucky stared at you, confused. And then, slowly, understanding clicked into place. His face contorted like heād just remembered heād left his stove on.
āOh my god,ā he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. āThe flowers. Those werenāt for Natasha. They were for Wanda.ā
Your heart stuttered. āWhat?ā
āVision,ā Bucky groaned. āIt was their anniversary. He was stuck on the phone trying to get a fancy reservation and begged me to pick them up. Natasha tagged along because she was hunting for jewellery for Mariaās birthday. Thatās all it was.ā
You blinked at him. āYouāre joking.ā
āIām not,ā Bucky replied earnestly. āI didnāt know you thought that. I swear, Iām not with Natasha. I never was.ā
Your stomach dropped. āOh god.ā
āHeyāā
āNo. No-no-no.ā You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to sink straight through the floor. āThis is mortifying. I literally thought you were in a secret relationship. Iāve been avoiding you like the plague. Iāve been thinking about moving cities. I googled how hard it is to change your name legally.ā
He snorted. āYouāre not serious.ā
You opened your eyes, and the horror must have been plain on your face because Buckyās expression melted into something far too amused. āOh, you are.ā
āI might never recover from this,ā you mumbled.Ā
āHey, cāmon. Itās not that bad.ā
āI confessed my undying crush and accused you of being in love with someone else in the span of like, sixty seconds.ā
His mouth twitched, lips threatening a smile. āYouāre kind of adorable when youāre spiralling.ā
āIām going to chuck these hors d'oeuvres at your head.ā
As if mocking your attempt at dignity, the elevator gave a slight mechanical whirr, nearly at the top floor. The distant hum of the party pulsed just beyond those sleek doors.
You straightened suddenly, panic creeping into your chest. āOkay, Iām going to deliver these and then Iām leaving. Possibly forever. Please never speak to me again.ā
But Bucky, ever faster than you, stepped in.
And before you could react, he pressed the emergency stop button.
The elevator jolted to a halt. The tower of overpriced hors d'oeuvres wobbled dangerously in your arms. āOh my god,ā you gasped, teetering.
Bucky was already moving, steady hands catching the top box before it could topple, plucking the rest from your shaking grasp. He crouched to stack them on the floor carefully, then rose slowly, smirking as you stood frozen, mouth agape in pure horrified disbelief.
āBucky, what the hell are you doing?ā
āNo more running,ā he said simply, as if that explained everything.
You could barely breathe. āYou stopped the elevator?ā
āDidnāt want to risk the doors opening and you disappearing into the night,ā he said, a little too pleased with himself.
āI hate you,ā you whispered, eyes wide.
He leaned in, just close enough for you to feel his breath. āNo, you donāt.ā
You were going to die right here in a metal box. With your dignity in ruins and the man of your dumb, desperate daydreams giving you that look.
And somehow, somehow, you didnāt even want to stop him.
āIām serious,ā he said, stepping closer. āDonāt shut down. Please.ā
You glanced up at him, finally meeting his eyes and immediately wished you hadnāt. They were dark. Hungry. That gaze alone could melt you to the floor.
He stepped closer again. And again. Until his frame caged in you, his arms braced on either side of your head, the heat of his body swallowing you whole.
āI like you too,ā he said, low, rough, like it was pulled from deep inside. āChrist, I was so blind. I didnāt see it. It didnāt click until that day at the tailor, until I saw you in this damn dress.ā
Your breath hitched.
āI canāt stop thinking about you,ā he murmured. āIāve been looking for excuses just to be near you. I keep the notes you leave me with the stupid little drawings. I like looking at them. Thinking about you.ā
Your heart felt like it might crack your ribs.
āI smelled every shampoo at the store one day,ā he confessed, almost sheepish, almost proud. āHoped Iād find the one you use. Because you smell so fucking good. Itās been driving me crazy.ā
āBuckyā¦ā
āI donāt know. You make me feel special. Seen. Like Iām not some monster, like Iām normal. And then one day you were justā¦ gone. I didnāt realise all the little things you did for me that I never noticed.ā He groaned, somehow pressing closer. āI missed the sound of your voiceā¦ and it made it hurt even moreā¦ I lie awake at night, every night, thinking about you and how much I want to kiss youāā
āBucky.ā You interrupted, and he looked back at you with a barely contained hunger. āAre you going to kiss me or not?ā
And then his mouth was on yours.
Hot. Messy. Desperate.
You gasped into it, and he swallowed it whole, groaning as he pressed harder, deeper, hands sliding down to your thighs as he grabbed one and hitched it up around his waist. You clung to his shoulders, lips parted as he slotted himself between your legs, guiding you up until your ass was perched on the elevatorās handrail bar.
āFuck,ā he breathed against your mouth. āTell me that you want this, tell me that you want me.ā
Your head fell back against the wall, lips swollen, breath shaking. His mouth travelled to your jaw, your throat, hands digging into your hips.
It was dizzying. Chaotic. Perfect.Ā
āI want you, Bucky.ā You panted.
āFuck,ā Bucky muttered again, but this time it was different, lower. Hungrier.
His hand slid along your thigh, fingertips brushing beneath the hem of your dress. You panted as he kissed across your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. His hands settled on your knees, then slowly, deliberately, he spread them apart.
āBuckyāā your voice was barely more than a whisper, a tremble of anticipation and disbelief.
But he didnāt answer. He dropped to his knees.
Right there. In the goddamn elevator.
You almost came on the spot at the sight, lips swollen and slick with saliva, pupils blown, the slight smudge of your lipstick on his chin. His hands slid up the back of your calves, kneading into the flesh like he was savouring the shape of you. Your dress inched upwards, his mouth suddenly pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.
Your breath hitched. Your hands shot to the railing behind you, clutching tight.
āYou have no idea,ā he said, voice wrecked with want, āhow long Iāve thought about this.ā
His eyes flicked up to yours, dark with something dangerous. Devotion, desire, something molten and drowning. Then his mouth moved higher.
Another kiss. Inner thigh this time. Then another, and another, slow, lingering, like he was memorising you. He disappeared until the fabric of your skirt, only the back of his head, dark locks messy peaking out from between the slit.Ā
You moaned, soft and involuntary, your hips twitching at the heat of his breath through the thin fabric of your panties. He nuzzled in close, his nose brushing against you, and his hands pressed firmly to your thighs to keep you spread.
āIāve thought about how youād taste,ā he muttered, lips grazing the soaked lace. āHow youād sound.ā
You whimpered.
And then, he peeled your panties to the side.
The groan that tore from him was obscene.
āJesus,ā he hissed, voice muffled. āYouāre fucking perfect.ā
And then, his mouth was on you.
Hot. Wet. Relentless. You cried out, one hand flying to his hair, tangling in it as his tongue licked into you with precision, with hunger, with something close to worship. He devoured you like he was starving. Slow circles, then quick flicks, his mouth dragging across your clit with maddening rhythm. You writhed against the rail, your leg still wrapped around his shoulder, the other trembling against the elevator wall.
āOh my godāBuckyāfuckāā
Your words slurred together, breath coming in ragged gasps as he groaned into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. One of his arms snaked around your thigh, pinning you in place, as if he thought you might try to escape. As if heād let you.
His tongue slid down, dipping into you, then back up, his mouth latching onto your clit with a filthy, wet sound that made your spine arch. You were unravelling, fast, dizzy, overwhelmed.
He pulled back just enough to pant. āI could stay here all night.ā
His mouth was merciless. His grip was unrelenting on your thighs, mouth working you over like a man possessedā
Bzzzzt.
A shrill, sudden buzz sounded from the elevatorās emergency panel, followed by a crackling voice.
āHello? This is Tower Maintenance. Weāre registering an emergency stop on lift three. Is there an issue?ā
You froze. Every muscle in your body went rigid, as if someone had cracked open your spine and poured ice water down it. Dread spread like frost through your veins. Your heart thudded painfully in your throat, threatening to climb up and out entirely.
You could barely breathe. Could barely think.
This was it. This was how you diedālegs spread, Bucky between them, and Tower Maintenance on the fucking line.
Bucky, in sharp contrast, did not freeze.
He groaned softly with wicked glee, his mouth still very much between your legs. The sound vibrated against the most sinful part of you, and then he doubled down. Mouth and hands working with infuriating, diabolical precision, like heād just taken the intercom as a challenge.
You clamped a hand over your mouth, the other shaking as you reached blindly for the emergency call button, trying not to sound like you were seconds away from being ruined.
Your voice came out like a panicked squeak. āHi! Uhāh-hi, yes, sorry! Mustāve been aāa small electrical fault. Iām fine! Everythingāsā¦ fine!ā
Bucky nipped at your thigh in response.
There was a pause. You could feel the suspicion through the line.
āMaāam, weāre not showing any electrical inconsistencies in that shaft. Did you press the stop button?ā
You shot a wide-eyed glare down at the man currently devouring you.
Another wave of pleasure threatened to knock the air from your lungs. You were barely holding it together, every nerve ending aflame, skin flushed, thighs shaking. The cool metal of the elevator wall against your spine did little to ground you.
You cleared your throat, struggling to piece together somethingāanythingāresembling human speech. āOh. Oh, thatāum, I mustāve bumped it. With my elbow. While holding a tray. Itās, uhācrowded. In here.ā
Bucky chose that exact moment to suck hard, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the helpless sound that nearly escaped.
A longer pause. You could practically hear them frowning.
āā¦Right. Well, weāre releasing the stop now. Please remain calm.ā
The line disconnected.
The elevator jolted slightly as it roared back to life.
Bucky gave a dark chuckle. āCrowded, huh?ā Thenāwith zero mercyāhe sped up.
āBucky,ā you gasped, head falling back against the wall, āIāmāIām gonnaāā
You shattered.
It hit hard, hot and blinding. You cried out, thighs clamping tight around his head as he groaned against you, mouth not stopping for a second, drawing it out, milking every twitch, every whimper. You barely had time to breathe, let alone moan, your hands flying to steady yourself just as the elevator dinged cheerily and the doors slid open.
Right into the penthouse. Packed full of people, who by some miracle, were utterly oblivious to your predicament.Ā
āEvening,ā he greeted a passing staff member, utterly unbothered.
You were glowing crimson, pupils blown, lips parted, trying hard to fix your face. Bucky guided you forward, his hand warm on your back, keeping you between him and the crowd as your legs trembled. You barely managed to set the tray on the nearest table before someone whistled.
āWell, damn,ā came Samās voice from the drinks bar. He gave you both a once-over, a wicked grin spreading. āBuck, next time youāre gonna eat face in the elevator, maybe wipe the lipstick off your chin first.ā
Bucky only smirked and licked his bottom lip slow, on purpose, you were sure of it.
You nearly combusted on the spot.
āBathroom?ā he murmured into your ear, low and gravelly.
You nodded quickly and wordlessly.
He guided you with all the smugness of a man who had no regrets, his hand just a little too low on your back to be innocent.
hi, if you enjoyed please let me know! drop a comment below, reblog or send me something through my inbox! thank you for reading my work :) if you want to stay up to date with any series updates or new one-shots being posted, follow my sideblog @artficlly-archive and turn on notifications.
Your lives have always moved in parallel: close enough to touch, yet separated by an irreconcilable distance. Bucky is a prince and you are his sister's lady-in-waiting. But love ignores rank, and so does the kingdom's newest desire-inducing substance.
āø PAIRING: Prince!Bucky Barnes x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader
āø WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, dubcon because of sex pollen, so much yearning, slight hurt/comfort, public sex, porn with too much plot tbh, possessive!bucky, degradation, filthy talk that border on dubcon but know that she wants to be there as much as him, breeding kink, insecurities, both virgins, bucky is nasty and a lil mean under the influence, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies
āøĀ WORD COUNT: 16.1K
āø A/N: "this will be a short pwp," i say, famous last words. thank you so much to @iamthatonefangirl and @barnesonly for organizing this collab. dedicated to @artficlly in honor of pursuit of jade episode 37 iykyk ā i'm gifting you the sex pollen by the stream that we never got <3 hope you enjoy this baby of mine. if you do, please let me know your thoughts (even if they are incoherent) through reblogs, comments, and likes!!
ā¤ main masterlist | bwat summer masterlist
Princes James Buchanan Barnes has everything he could ever want. A palace fit for the king that he will eventually become. Mountains of jewels that shine brighter than the sun and all the stars combined. Bespoke dress uniforms made from the finest fabrics, adorned with elegant aiguillettes and medals of his valor in battles fought and won. Countless women and men alike throwing themselves at his feet for the opportunity of him even sparing them the briefest of glances.
But the only one he truly wants, the only person he truly wishes to hold, is the one thing he cannot have ā and itās you.
Youāve been destined to become Princess Beccaās helper since you were born. Your mother had served the family for two generations; you were born in the palace, raised in the hustle and bustle of the castle with all the live-in staff. You spent years refining your cooking skills in the kitchen that seemed to function twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, decades toiling away in the garden with the landscaper to take care of the queenās prized roses, and occasionally sneaking into the palace library for a quick novel or two when your mother took her eyes off you.
It was a natural pathway for someone who wasnāt born to nobility yet was constantly surrounded by it.Ā
Fortunately, growing up in this kingdom that is governed with kindness and compassion means that there are paths to advancement that you never anticipated, mainly becoming Beccaās lady-in-waiting. The two of you had been raised together, joint at the hip, to the point where you may not even distinguish which of you is the real princess. The king and queen had welcomed you as if you were one of their own.Ā
Of course, you know that itās far from the truth. Despite their accommodations and generosity, youāve always known your place in society. There is a reason why Becca is the one covered in silver and gold, while youāre handstitching the holes in your clothes. Sheās seated at a table for twelve with a wide array of dishes and pastries all created to her liking, while you join your fellow staff members for a family meal, cramped together in a table meant for half of you.Ā
Youāve always drawn that line, regardless of how many times Becca tries to cross it.
āCome now, you must come with me to Viscountess Romanoffās ball!ā She huffs, stomping her feet as she always does when she does not get what she wants.
You let out a sigh and Beccaās face falls as she prepares herself for your disappointing response. āPrincessāā she glares and you bite your tongue, āBecca, that is not my place.ā
āOf course, it is! Many ladies-in-waiting go to these balls.ā
āLadies-in-waiting that were born into nobility,ā you correct her with a look.Ā
āIt doesnāt matter. Youāre my lady-in-waiting and I need you there toā toā fix my dress!ā
You know it isnāt true ā well, it is only true to the extent that Becca may become ridiculously inebriated and has to be stowed away before she can go as far as risk the royal familyās reputation, and you somehow have become the most reliable person for those circumstances.Ā
However, there are many there that will surely keep her on her toes ā literally, including her brother.Ā
āDid you hear that? She needs you to fix her dress. You simply have to attend now.ā
The interruption brings both of your attention to the door where Bucky is leaning against the doorway, a smirk curled on his lips. His eyes skip past Becca and land on you and ā heaven almighty.Ā
He drinks you in, you in your simple gown, yet his sapphire eyes warm all the same. They darken like the evening has arrived far too early and the moon is nowhere in sight. His smile dims slightly, if only for him to clamp down on the inappropriate sound that climbs up his throat.Ā
Bucky has never been good at subtlety.Ā
You drag your eyes away and back to the lady that youāre supposed to be waiting on. The lady who is currently huffing and puffing as she plops down on the sofa with a scowl. āWill you please convince her to come, Buck?ā
He steps further into the room. The air is a little heavier, like his presence has sucked all the oxygen out of the space ā but only for you. Your fingers twist quietly together in front of you as you force yourself to stand upright, force yourself to keep looking ahead when his arm brushes yours ā an inappropriate proximity for a prince and a member of the staff.Ā
Discreetly, you take one step to the side, just enough to put distance that allows you room to breathe, lest you risk Becca suspecting something transpiring between the two of you.
āYou should come,ā Bucky murmurs. His gaze is warm on your cheek. His blue eyes no doubt soft as they take you in.Ā
You resist and instead address Becca. āThat would be unacceptable, Prā Becca. Please. The crown prince will be in attendance and the viscountessā staff are more than capable. Iāve met many of them and you will be in good hands.ā
āWell, the crown prince would appreciate his ability to drink the viscountessā liquor supply for the night without worrying about whether his dear sister can control her alcohol,ā Bucky chimes in, which earns a roll of the eyes from Becca.Ā
āI can control my drinking, Bucky. Can you control your deviant desires in the presence of all the other women in the ton?ā
Your heart skips a beat. A little nick in your chest to draw blood. You can practically hear the smile wipe off Buckyās face, his face red as he grits his teeth. āYou know thatās not true, sister dear. Iāve never once laid a hand on them.ā
āDoesnāt mean you donāt try,ā Becca shoots right back.
Another scratch, enough to peel back another layer to your bleeding heart.Ā
It shouldnāt ā doesnāt ā matter. There has never been anything between you and Bucky. He is the crown prince and you were born to be a ladyās maid at best; it was only the queenās philanthropy and Beccaās friendship that you were granted this promotion.Ā
Bucky is meant to marry a princess from another kingdom, or at the least someone born to a proper, respectable family with titles.Ā
Neither of which is you.
āRebecca Marie Barnes.ā Buckyās voice is sharp; it slices through the air and straight towards Becca whose face goes cold the moment it lands.Ā
Beccaās lips purse in annoyance. āIām going to look for a dress for tonight.ā Then sheās lifting her dress and stomping away.
You make a move to follow, only for Bucky to swiftly take your hand. You donāt turn. Bucky forces you to when he tugs you towards him, spinning you around so you land against his chest. Youāre quick to flatten your palm on it to push yourself away, but instead, he catches your hand and presses it over his heart.Ā
āItās not true,ā he murmurs. āIāve never once shown any of them any interest.ā
Donāt cry. Youād be a fool to cry over a prince. You steel your gaze as you look up at him. āIt would be in your right to do so. A crown prince is meant to take a wife.ā
Irritation flickers across his eyes. āThereās only one woman I wish to take as a wife but she seems to deny me that right at every turn. What say you to that?ā
āA crown prince is meant to take a proper wife. One fit for the ton.ā
āI donāt give a damn about the ton.ā
āBucky!ā The chiding comes out on instinct, his name sliding on your tongue like water. Habit ā one that you shouldāve curbed a long time ago if it werenāt for the two of them always insisting that you call them by their names.Ā
Buckyās face thaws, mouth curving into a delighted smile. You try to extract yourself from his grasp again but fail to do so when he ducks his head, lips brushing the shell of your ear. A shiver snakes up your spine as he drags you closer to him. āI love when you say my name. Iād love it even more if you called me your husband.ā
Your traitorous heart slams against your ribs. Foolish desires plague your very being. Itās been decades since you were first introduced to Bucky, ten years since you first defended Becca against Buckyās teasing, and far too long since you first fell for the crown prince.Ā
Itās not as if your feelings are not reciprocated; Bucky has made it clear from the start that he adores you dearly. Adores you in a way that is far from acceptable for a prince. But your mother has reminded you time and time again that, no matter how intimately acquainted you are with them, you will never be one of them.Ā
And Bucky deserves a partner ā an equal. Someone who can stand tall and proud beside him without the risk of gossip and mockery. You would only give him grief and he would certainly bore of you in the future once the thrill of the chase is done.Ā
So you exert more effort this time to push him away. āPrince Barnes, I must ask you to maintain some semblance of decorum. If youāll excuse me, I have to tend to the princess.ā You do a small curtsy, ignoring the flash of pain in his eyes as you walk away.
This is how itās supposed to be. This has always been your fate.
āYou have to try this on. Please? For me?ā
It begins as an innocent enough request. Becca was in the midst of selecting her gown for the evening and that meant that you were right by her side, providing her with the necessary words of affirmation for her to make a decision.Ā
These are the most challenging questions that royalty have to deal with. Sometimes you dream of living such a comfortable life, pampered daily with the sweetest of treats and lavishing yourself with the praise of society. However, you know that things arenāt so simple. There are restrictions that come with being part of this family.
You saw firsthand how many classes Becca had to take as part of her education āĀ in addition to the typical academic courses, she had to spend hours learning proper etiquette, how to sew, how to play a musical instrument, how to entertain and host a gathering. They had to prepare her for her future as a wife. While options are limited for women in society, they are practically a straight-line path for a princess who is not in line for the throne.Ā
Her career, her future, her partner āĀ everything is almost pre-destined.
One day, Becca will marry someone. While she dreams of a happily ever after, she also understands the political nature of matrimony. To maintain power, you have to seek power. She may not be here a few years from now when sheās officially married off to extend her fatherās reign. Her parents have insisted that they would never force her to marry, but Becca has always had a strong sense of responsibility.
You both admire and hold sympathy for her.Ā
Unfortunately, in this very moment, you would like to push her out of the carriage so you too could make your escape. Somehow, she has managed to rope you into going to the ball ā in one of her dresses.Ā
āThis is completely inappropriate,ā you hiss. āI should not be here.ā
āI want you here.ā
āBecca,ā you exhale deeply, āif your parents knew about this.ā
āItās a masquerade ball! Nobody will know.ā
āIām coming with you! I fear that makes it quite obvious.ā
āIāll tell them youāre one of our very distant cousins ā one from a land far, far away.ā
You pinch your nose as the carriage rattles, the silk of your glove glides along your skin. Pulling your hand away, you canāt help but look at the delicate fabric on your skin.Ā
When you first tried the clothes on, you could hardly believe your eyes. You didnāt even look likeā¦ you. Gone were your well-worn gowns. The tightness of the corset has you a little breathless, but the dress adorned with intricate sequins and embroidery sliding over your body like water. The silver shimmers underneath the moonlight that spills past the curtains of the carriage, white camellias sewn in a river down your shoulder to your waist.Ā
You reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear, only for your fingers to brush over the diamond necklace that Becca has so thoughtfully loaned you. The gems catch light, winking at you as if theyāre letting you in on a secret. Then your fingers catch on your mask, a combination of beads and lace trimming, the same flowers framing the corners of your eyes.Ā
In all your life, you could never have even dared to dream of wearing such things. You never imagined that you would be swimming in such luxury.Ā
If your mother could see you now, she would absolutely murder you. She would bury you six feet under before the royal guards could even get to you.Ā
You know that neither the queen nor king would mind, but what would the rest of them think if they knew? What if they found out that you were no more than a girl born into somewhat fortunate circumstances? That your blood was redder than most of them. Common.Ā
A hand lands atop yours. Becca peeks at you with a nervous smile. āHey, itāll be fun. Youāve never been to one of these. Please try to enjoy yourself. I promise that nobody will say a thing.ā
āWhat if I stand out? What if they know that I donāt fit in with the rest of them?ā You whisper.Ā
Becca squeezes your hand. āIf you stand out, itās because you look far more beautiful than the rest of them. If you stand out, itās because they are looking at you with envy. You couldāve easily been the diamond of the season.ā
Warmth creeps up your neck as the carriage pulls to a stop. You can already hear the music filtering through the entrance; the sound mingles with the fast rhythm of your heartbeat in a symphony that echoes through your mind.Ā
āShowtime,ā she beams.
Now, as someone who has been directly involved in the planning, decorating, and organizing of the extravaganzas, youāve seen your fair share of ridiculously opulent displays. The palace is, after all, renowned for hosting the grandest of balls, bringing together only the whoās who of society. The guest list is selective, both for security and exclusivity reasons. It is the most sought-after invitation of the season. So when you walk into the viscountessā home, you didnāt think you would be impressed.
However, you have never been happier to be proven wrong. Every inch of this place has been meticulously swathed in a color scheme perfect for the summer. Florals in every shade of the sunset draped across banisters, hanging over the staircase leading down to the dance floor, and standing tall in structures that do not look humanly possible.
Butlers and maids dressed head to toe in fine fabrics float around the room carrying hors d'oeuvres that look more like miniature works of art. Macarons that match the colors of the flower arrangements, tarts with crusts that crumble perfectly on your tongue, bonbons in perfect spheres dusted in cocoa, and fruits plucked from the vines at their ripest, sweetest point.
The stars twinkle above you to complement the tiny candles that string across the railings to illuminate the room, only outshone by the chandeliers with flickering flames hanging above you. Guests in their Sunday bests drift around the room in excited chatter, spreading the newest gossip that will surely make the papers by morning.
Heads turn as you and Becca enter the room and, before you can duck behind her, sheās linking her arm through yours and pulling you forward into the crowd.
āBeccaāā
āBreathe, this will be fun. Enjoy the treats and the wine. The viscountess has exceptional taste, she has gathered the best chefs in the kingdom in her kitchen. Mother simply adores visiting her for tea for the food alone.ā
Becca walks through the room with the confidence of someone who owns it. Everyone knows her as the princess even hidden behind the mask, murmurs of awe rippling across the crowd. The men pay particularly close attention, eager to get hers. The women speak of her in resentful admiration.
Becca ā the belle of the ball. You, her companion.
āTheyāre looking at you,ā she giggles quietly in your ear.
āNo, theyāre looking at you, Princess.ā
āIāve been in enough of these rooms to know when people are looking at me. While some are focused on me, most of them are keeping a close eye on you.ā
āLikely to see when they would have the opportunity to speak to you alone no doubt,ā you mutter under your breath.
Becca frowns at you. āMust you be so cynical? You look absolutely stunning. If you gave the room a chance, youād know how many of them are keen on dancing with you. In fact, why donāt we put it to a test?ā
Right as youāre about to ask her what she means, Becca moves away from you, pretending to be drawn by the dessert that appears to be running away from her. Her name leaves your mouth but you donāt get very far when three men approach you. All of them impeccably dressed, all of them handsome ā at least, from what you can see with the mask.
āMy lady, would you grant me the honor of joining me for a dance?ā
Your lips part in surprise, eyes darting around the room to search for the princess. Becca stands off in a corner, grinning proudly to herself as she nibbles on a cream puff. You bite down the urge to curse before politely turning to the men. āMy apologies, I should be getting back to my companion. I canāt leave her for far too long.ā
You take a step and one of them moves directly in your path. āIām sure sheāll find the company of others just as pleasant. Please, you must grant each of us a dance. It would be a privilege for us.āĀ
Although youāve danced before, itās mostly to help Becca with her training. You have no idea how these dances work during the balls ā the coordination, the etiquette. Your heart begins to race as your throat closes in a panic.
āI canātāā
āOne. One song is all I ask.ā
āThen mine next.ā
āAnd then me.ā
Your chest flares as you search around the room for Becca again but she is nowhere to be found. Your skin begins to burn as your survival instincts kick in. The last thing you need is for these men to notice and question how theyāve never seen you before at such events, and you would have to craft a convoluted fib that you would be forced to maintain.
Just as you are about to deny them again, a hand presses against the low of your back.
āMy lady.ā
The voice grounds you in a familiar presence. You look up to find Bucky ā even through the mask, youād know it was him. His favorite cologne clings to the threads of his jacket and his hair, thick and styled, is one you can practically feel on your fingertips. Those days spent by the riverbend, his head on your lap as you read him sonnetsā
No. This is not the time to be sentimental.
āYour royal highness.ā The men stumble over each other to greet him, their energy shifting to nervous jitters as they look amongst each other.
āI believe the point of the masks is anonymity,ā he says smoothly. āNow, if you wouldnāt mind, I would like to invite this lovely lady to a dance.ā
He doesnāt wait for your answer, he simply takes your hand and whisks you into the crowd. You donāt have time to think about the consequences of this, more relieved that youāve escaped that sticky situation.
āThank you,ā you breathe out.
āI believe I should be thanking you for this dance,ā he grins.
āHow did you find me?ā
āI could find you even if you were across the world, mon cher.ā You roll your eyes and Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. āI donāt think youāre supposed to respond that way to the crown prince.ā
āPerhaps if the crown prince didnāt use such predictably embarrassing lines.ā
His lips curl again. āI noticed you the moment you walked into the room. Most beautiful woman tonight. Most beautiful woman Iāve ever known, in fact.ā
āHavenāt you been taught that dishonesty is unbecoming on a man?ā You snip back.
āYou wound me,ā he gives a little shake of his head, āOut of everyone, you know that you would be the last person I would attempt to bathe in false affirmations. I know you can see through those pretenses.ā
āThen why try?ā
āOh ye of little faith. If you wanted praise from me, you could just say soāā
You balk, snapping back in surprise. āThat was not my intention!ā
Bucky squeezes your hand as he shifts you around the room. It is then that you realize heās been guiding your movements all along, every one of your steps falling in line with the others around you. Heās always been a good dancer, far better than Becca who had resisted these lessons for the longest time.
āYou look absolutely ravishing tonight,ā he ducks his head to whisper in your ear. The smell of him infiltrates your senses, his warmth, the brush of his hair against your cheek. āOf course, you couldāve worn nothing at all and you would undoubtedly still be the most fetching person in this room.ā
āIf I wore nothing at all, then Iām sure I would fetch the eyes of everyone in this room,ā you tease with a small quirk of your lips.
Bucky goes momentarily taut, stiff as he spins you and then pulls you in even closer. His hands tighten around you, like heās fearful you would slip away at any moment. āThank the heavens you opted for clothing today. I would rather not imagine anyone else seeing you in such a state. Iād have to dramatically increase this kingdomās beheading rate. If I do that, what kingdom would I have left to rule?ā
āBecause youād have to eliminate the witnesses to my humiliation of the royal family?ā
āBecause I have limited self-restraint when it comes to you.ā You cock an eyebrow in question. āI would have to eliminate anyone who has ever seen you in such an intimate state. Iām a tad possessive you see, Iād rather be the only person alive whoās ever seen you in all of your raw beauty.ā
Heat flushes along your skin, a sudden rise in temperature that rarely occurs at this time in the evening. āYouāve never seen me in such a state.ā
āI would be the first and the last, my dear. Iāve never been very good at sharing.ā
āI am not an object to own, your royal highness,ā you bite out with a sour curl of your lips.
āYouāre not,ā Bucky murmurs softly, ābut my heart belongs to you and I was hoping that yours to me ā and your affection is the one thing I refuse to ration.ā
You look up to meet his eyes. Earnest blue eyes that are far too honest for your liking. That gaze thatās dripping with the kind of affection he cannot counterfeit. Your movements nearly falter, your knees suddenly weak, but Bucky holds onto you even tighter.
āBucky, Iāā
Your gaze snags on the view behind him ā a line of women watching the two of you, glowering green seeing your frame tucked against Buckyās. Women who undoubtedly come from near and far in search of a notable husband to match or increase their standing in society. What better catch than a prince?
Instead of investing his time looking for a proper candidate for a wife, he is instead wasting these minutes with you. Itās been three songs, far from appropriate for two acquaintances, suspicious enough that you can hear the whispers of speculation begin to circulate the room. As the song comes to an end, youāre quick to curtsy in front of him.
āThank you for the dance.ā
You whirl around before he can say another word and disappear into the throng, leaving Bucky to be swarmed by women who are far better suited for him.
Becca stands by a corner, having watched all of this transpire. Sheās barely paying any mind to the gentlemen suitors around her. When you come around to her, sheās immediately distancing herself and rushing towards you. Her gaze is eager, far too eager.
Sheās had at least two drinks then.
āHow was it? I saw you out there.ā
āIt was fine,ā you mutter.
āYouāve only had one dance and it was with my brother. Methinks itās time to expand your registry. How about the Duke? I hear he gets a little bit handsy and a little fun can do no harm.ā
After your conversation with Bucky, you seriously doubt that. You would rather avoid this ball turning into a beheading festival tonight ā or Bucky ruining his pristine reputation with society when he decides to do an execution in the middle of the dance floor.
Bucky is many things but he is not a liar. Whether he exaggerates is up for debate but that is not a theory you want to test tonight.
āOr shall we have a few more to drink in the meantime? Their champagne is quite lovely. I heard the viscountess had sourced all of the vintages from her favorite year.ā
āLadies.ā
Speak of the devil. The two of you find yourselves in front of the viscountess. Even beneath the mask, her vibrant ruby hair is an easy identifier. She is cloaked in a glimmering black fabric with touches of red, breasts pushed up with the tight wrap aroung her waist. Spiders are stitched into her mask, crawling up the sides.
āLady Romanoff,ā Becca cheers, āwhat a lovely ball youāve thrown. This is stunning, our chefs simply must learn from yours, otherwise Iād be tempted to sneak a few of those macarons up my sleeve before I leave.ā
The viscountess laughs. āPrincess, if you desire the macarons, I shall ensure that they are delivered to the palace by the morning. I believe your queen mother is also rather fond of the bonbons I source from France, Iāve already arranged for it to be sent tomorrow and Iāll make sure we include your macarons with that delivery.ā
āYou are most kind and gracious.ā
Then she turns her eyes to you and you freeze. āAnd I do not believe weāve met. Your name, dear?ā
Your eyes flick to Becca momentarily before returning to her. You should lie. You should give her another name, but the viscountess has been known to be shrewdly intelligent. If you were caught in a fib, you would likely have your tongue cut out. There have been rumors of what she has done outside this kingdom, things that are far from proper; still, nobody has been brave enough to validate any of that gossip.
So you tell her your name.
āAnd I presume you are the princessāā¦ā she trails off for a second and you go rigid once more, her gaze sharpens a fraction. āā¦cousin from far, far away?ā
āUm, yes! She has decided to do an impromptu visit because she missed me so. I hope you donāt mind my bringing her, my lady.ā
Lady Romanoff smiles like she knows ā and you have a feeling she does. She simply doesnāt care. After all, she has always danced to her own tune, including how sheās wearing all black tonight that would be typically reserved for funerals.
āNot at all. I hope you enjoy your visit and my ball tonight. I would avoid Lord Smith, heās in desperate search of a wife and may latch on to the one new face who appears unaware of the reputation of his temper.ā Then she laughs.
āFair advice, Lady Romanoff, thank you,ā you murmur.
With one last squeeze of your arm, she brisks away from the two of you. As you follow her movements, you also spot Bucky as he makes his own escape with a few of the gentlemen youāve seen come around the palace. He turns in time to catch your eye, his mouth curling into a smile as he winks at you from the distance, right as he disappears out the door.
āNow, shall we indulge in more treats?ā
Youāve always been a quick study and there are three things that you now understand about the nature of these functions.
The first is to eat your fill ā between the champagne and the specially mulled wines, intoxication is a friendly foe that rears its head far too fast. You have to learn to balance properly.
The second is that the marriage market appears dreary. None of the ladies are interested in the gentlemen, no matter how desperately they try. It appears that the women in the room arenāt too afraid of waiting a tad bit longer if it means they could find the one. This means that the gentlemen are far too preoccupied with harassing the help to keep themselves entertained, not that Lady Romanoff tolerates that behavior; sheās kicked out a number of them already.
Last but not least is that Becca is a social butterfly. While youāve always been familiar with her friendly nature, seeing her out and about like this, crafting budding friendships with every single person in the room, youāre once again reminded of why the two of you were fast friends. Becca has always been more welcoming, conquering all five love languages on top of the three spoken and written ones that sheās already studying. However, following her around, you are also reminded that you are, in fact, not like her and these interactions are beginning to wear you down.
There are only so many ways you can talk about your dress before the discussions start to sound inane.
There are also so many times you can tolerate the way these women look you up and down. What happened to camaraderie? The catty looks are one thing you donāt expect. In your eyes, youāre a nobody who just happened to be playing dress-up thanks to a good friend. However, you can see how you seem from their perspective ā close enough to the princess to attend this ball, apparently attractive enough for the crown prince to steal you for more than a handful of minutes.
You swallow the urge to scream, āIām nothing more than the help!ā
āThe prince does have peculiar taste, doesnāt he?ā One of them comments and you have to resist rolling your eyes, lest you offend her publicly.Ā
āWhat do you mean?ā Becca asks as she nibbles on her third tart of the night.
Expectedly, the girlās eyes flick to you for a brief second before her lips stretch into smirk. āI assumed he would take a wife by now. Have an heir to continue the lineage. However, it doesnāt seem that anyone in this room suits his preferences. He hasnāt asked anyone to dance yet ā and not for a lack of trying from our part.ā
āHe did have one danceāā
You clear your throat to interrupt Becca. She looks at you quizzically.
God bless her heart. Becca means well but sometimes she misses some of these cues; sheās too trusting, which is why you have to be the exact opposite.
āApologies, I meant a dance that would countāā she smiles saccharine sweet. āāthat would matter. Youāre a visiting relative, right?ā This question she directs towards you.
All eyes turn to you. The attention has your cheeks burning. āCorrect.ā
āSheās actually a very dear friend, but sheās practically family. She knows Bucky very well.ā
āIs that so?ā You donāt appreciate the way the womanās gaze flashes with something akin to amusement. āPractically a sister then. I donāt believe I recall where youāre from. I havenāt heard anyone speak of you either.ā
āI didnāt say.ā Your lips twist up in an irritated smile.
Awkward tension falls upon the conversation. Becca looks nervously between the two of you; this cue is far too hard to miss. āThat doesnāt matter! What matters is that we are here now. How about we get some lemonade? Itās quite warm here, isnāt it?ā
As Becca busies herself with resolving the tension, which is the last thing a princess should be doing, you take this opportunity to slip away from the suffocating atmosphere of the room.
Perhaps the garden can be healing this time of night.
Bucky would rather be anywhere else but here. Let him correct himself ā there is exactly one place he would rather be than here and it would be to be back inside. With you. Dancing. Fetching you drinks. Keeping those overly-excited, unworthy vultures away from you.
The moment you stepped through those doors, he knew he was in for a long night of suffering. Time and time again, youāve rejected his advances. He knows you feel the same way, has felt you leaning into his touch before you would pull yourself away. Your stubbornness has always been endearing, but Bucky yearns for the day when he finally breaks through those walls.
Itās not an if, itās a when.
Because Bucky has always achieved everything heās dreamed of and you are his most important one.
However, for now, he is instead subjected to the debauchery of his peers. Dukes, viscounts, and fellow noblemen who have far too much time on their hands to be exploring substances that shouldnāt be explored. Sam is in the midst of lecturing their tight-knit group about this vial he procured while out in the countryside, some fermented liquid that supposedly produces the most vivid, imaginative visions that have you questioning reality.
The others ooh and aah in fascination but Buckyās eyes continue to stray towards those double-doors where you stand on the other side.
āYour royal highness, I have something that may be of interest to you.ā
To that, he does turn with a raised brow.
āI specifically obtained this one for you. I am sympathetic to your causeāā Sam teases and Bucky responds with a withering glare that does nothing to deter his friend. āāand when the time comes and you hope to last, this will be immensely beneficial.ā
āHis cause is hopeless if he doesnāt do anything about it,ā Steve laughs.
āI appreciate your vote of confidence, Rogers. Believe me, itās not for a lack of trying,ā Bucky mutters as he leans back against the stone pillar.
Sam grabs his hand, slips it into his palm and closes his hand around a small tin. āVery potent. I wouldnāt recommend more than a pinchful at a time. A pinchful should last you through an hour, but what a delicious hour it will be.ā
He doesnāt know how to tell him that Bucky doesnāt need this sort of chemistry to make him last. Every time heās near you, his pants tighten like a schoolboy again. Thirteen and realizing that this desire to kiss you isnāt a result of friendship. As he got older, he realized that these urges arenāt those that should be held against his sisterās lady-in-waiting.
Urges that blossomed into far more when he feels his chest constrict, breath stolen from his lungs, whenever he catches a whiff of that perfume. Or how he canāt resist peeking at you from around the corner whenever you sneak into the library, wondering what book has absorbed you this time, how quickly he could read it to spark conversation with you. Or how desperately he tries to make you laugh just to hear that tinkling melody that loops like the nationās best symphony in his mind.
There are days that Bucky wishes he wasnāt born into this family, that he could be normal, so he wouldnāt be forced upon societal standards that he has no desire to follow. He could pursue you and you wouldnāt constantly put this chasm between you.
But then if he hadnāt been born into this life, then he wouldāve never met you. He would have never known what it means for love to consume his very soul, how one person could mean the world to him, to a point where he would give it all up ā the riches, the rule ā to be with you.
Fate is a funny thing.
āI donāt need this, Wilson,ā Bucky grunts as he tries to push it back into Samās hands.
Sam raises them. āNo, sir. Think of it as an early coronation gift. Perhaps once you can change the rules of the kingdom, you would be inclined to follow them too.ā
āThink heās a jester,ā he mutters to Steve with a roll of his eyes.
āIn another life, my prince, perhaps in another life,ā Sam grins cheekily. āYou simply have to breathe it in. Like the usual stuff. Again, very powerful so be careful. Otherwise, youād be trapped in that state for hours on end and your only relief would be toā¦ā
Buckyās eyes rise to meet his. Sam only wiggles his eyebrows in response. He makes a face of repulsion. āThatās how you rid yourself of the effects?ā
āThe more you finish, the lighter the effects will be. However, if you donāt find any form ofā¦ relief, then it could last for hours and youād be hurting everywhere ā and I do mean everywhere. Itās the strongest form of desire that can be relieved if you fulfill it.ā
Bucky looks down at the tin again. Unassuming. Small. How powerful could this little thing be? He tucks it inside his coat, if only to appease his friend, and lets them resume with the conversation.
By the time they adjourn, Bucky is sufficiently exhausted. All he wants is to go search for you. Itās only been an hour and he already misses you. What a fool he is ā if only the kingdom knew that the crown princeās only weakness is a woman who doesnāt even want him.
As the other men filter back indoors, Bucky moves to follow. That is, until your perfume tickles his senses. Youāre outside. He whips around to try and find you but youāre nowhere in sight.
Perhaps this is his chance. The two of you would be in Lady Romanoffās prized garden, far away from the prying eyes of the palace or the rest of the ton. He looks at Steve and Sam, waves them away. āGo on. Iāll enjoy the fresh air a little bit more.ā
āAlright, donāt look too thrilled that all those women inside are waiting for their prince to return.ā
Bucky winces. Of course, heās felt their hungry gazes all night. All of them practically vibrating where theyāre standing, fanning themselves a little faster, batting their eyelashes a little more rapidly. He has zero inclination to humor any of them because the one person he wants to dance with is the one who wonāt even look at him.
With one final gesture, he begins to prowl further into the grounds, further away from the mansion, to find you.
Little does he know that the tiny tin rattles like a cry against his chest, lid loose as he walks at a pace thatās far from careful.
After exploring the gardens for a bit, you almost wish that Lady Romanoff would adopt you under her wing to understand her excellent taste in design and decoration. The architecture is as old as time. Each brick feels intentionally placed like itās meant to be part of history. The stream that sits quietly further away from the palace brings a touch of natural life to the otherwise manmade masterpiece.
A boat sits swaying in the gentle evening breeze and youāre half tempted to paddle yourself out to the middle to find some form of peace. However, given how deep it is into nightfall, you assume youād have to eventually make your way back to find Becca. Sheās promised not to touch another drop of champagne for the evening so you trust her to make good decisions.
Just as you turn to begin your journey back to the mansion, the last person you expect is standing before you.
āBucky, what are you doing here?ā
In the darkness, he stumbles towards you, mumbling incoherently. You strain your ears to decipher him but itās near impossible when his words blur together. Heās clearly intoxicated. You wonder how much liquor Steve and Sam have fed him and lord knows what else.
When he finally stands where the moonlight shines across the concrete, you see the flush that sprawls like an illness across his skin. His breathing is labored and his fingers continue to tug at the collar of his shirt, clawing almost desperately. With his mask long gone, you can see how his pupils are blown wide as they drink in the sight of you, a mix of relief and desire in the constantly shifting shades of his ocean eyes.Ā
He breathes out your name like a prayer when he sees you. āGods, you lookā¦ā he trails off again as he moves towards you, walking side to side as if his legs canāt bear the weight of him.
You catch him before he can topple over, his entire body draped over yours. You thank the heavens that youāve done enough manual labor in your life that youāre able to prop him up, pushing him up against the wall. Your hands on his shoulders as you frown at him.
He doesnāt smell too heavily of liquor but there are strange particles on his coat that you suspect are the reason why heās behaving like this. You bite back the urge to scold the crown prince of all people to be more responsible. When you look up at him, heās looking down at you with a lazy smirk.
āBucky, what did you take?ā
āYāsmellā¦ā he leans forward again, nearly tipping over but his nose ends up buried in your neck. You feel him inhale, deep, before a long, extremely indecorous moan rumbles against your skin. Heat slithers up your spine, pushing your blood south between your legs. āFuck, you smell so good.ā
Biting your tongue, you try to push him back against the wall but heās faster. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against his chest as his mouth trails warm against your skin. He whispers your name again ā like a promise. āBucky, please, I canāt help you like this.ā
āNeedāā he chokes then, whimpering.
āWhat do you need? Tell me.ā
āYou.ā
You stroke his hair gently as he continues to mumble words you cannot hear against the pulse in your neck. āI know, Iām here. Tell me what you need.ā Worry torments your heart as you press the back of your hand against his forehead. āHeavens, youāre burning up.ā
āSo hot,ā he whines, āso, so warm.ā
Without removing himself from you, he begins to shed off his tailcoat first, casting it aside. Then his fingers reach for the buttons of his waistcoat, fingers seemingly too uncoordinated to undo them.
āPlease. Help,ā he pleads.
How can you say no when he asks so sweetly? But at the same time, you really shouldnāt be doing this. āBucky, this isnāt a good idea. I donāt think you shouldāā
āHelp me.ā
Gods, youāve never been good at saying no to this man, not when he sounds like heās in pain. Your gloved hands reach towards him as you begin to unbutton him slowly, revealing more and more of the linen underneath. Then Bucky pushes it off his shoulders.
āMy shirt next.ā
āBucky!ā you gasp, āThatās completely out of the question. I couldnāt possibly.ā
āItās so warm, mon couer. Please.ā
Heās never played a fair game, but particularly when he addresses you so charmingly in French. You remember when he first started calling you those terms, practicing the foreign language on his tongue in a way that had you leaning in to listen for more. You asked him what they meant, and he said, āOnly the truth.ā
My love. My heart. Your heart feels like itās been lit on fire when you read the translations.
You never questioned it further. Becca always took it as teasing, like Buckyās being his usual charismatic, mischievous self. But every time he calls you that, you know that it is the truth. A truth you keep contesting for the sanctity of your mind.
Because if you accept that you are his love and that you are his heart, you donāt know how much of your resolve would be left.
And Bucky deserves more than that. He deserves the world, which he already has. You canāt be the reason that he loses all of it.
āWe should head back. Beccaās going to be wondering where we are.ā
āBecca can be patient,ā he murmurs as he finally finds the strength to rip his shirt open, the buttons flying off as the fabric is torn off his body, leaving him bare in front of you. His abdomen ripples with the kind of muscles that come from the hours spent training, the hours you spent watching him practice.Ā
Saliva pools on your tongue and you feel like a dog taught to drool at the sight of its master. Youāve seen him shirtless before, of course ā god knows the man loves to be fully exposed to the sun in seasons like this. However, something about him is different this time. Heās practically soaked through his shirt, his body glows with a sheen layer of sweat.Ā
āYou have a fever, Bucky. You need help.ā
āNeed you,ā he repeats, clearer this time. His brows then meet in the middle as he looks down at you. He tugs the mask off your face, letting it drop to the floor as he searches your eyes. Deep blue, bluer than the summer sky. āThere you are,ā he says softly.
Your heart stutters as you shy away from his gaze, his fingers catching your chin to tilt you to face him again. His eyes fall to your lips, your lips separate, sticky with whatever Becca had swiped onto you earlier.
Then he slants his lips over yours and you feel the fireworks explode inside your chest. Buckyās moan spills down your throat as he kisses you deeper, harder. Ravenous is the only way you can describe it. Heās chasing after your lips like youāre the last drop of water for a parched man. He breathes the air from your lungs, an intimate exchange that has noises youāve only made in the quiet of your room ā alone ā rising from your stomach.
Itās everything youāve ever imagined, and so much more. You spent nights picturing what this could feel like in painstaking detail, hoping that it may happen one day ā in the slightest of chances.
But then that anxiety seeps back in, creeping under your skin enough to wake you from this dream.Ā
āBuckyāā He kisses you again, quashing whatever rational thought youāve only just begun to formulate.
āTastes so sweet, even better than I thought,ā he murmurs. āSo sweet, my love. Gods, I could kiss you for days and Iād never tire of it.ā
āWe shouldnātāā Your protest once again dies in your throat as Bucky begins to kiss along your jaw, placing a wet trail of fire as he mouths down your neck, counting your racing heartbeat. Your palms flatten against his chest, damp and humid. Heās sweating bullets but you donāt get the chance to interrupt again.
āI need you,ā he groans, ālord, I need you.ā His fingers catch your hand and press it against his chest. Your heart pushes against your ribs. āYou smell so good. I canāt stop thinking about you. Thinking about what it would be like to kneel at your feet, your leg over my shoulder, and bury my face in that pretty pussy of yours.ā
A gasp wrenches from your throat as you jerk back. āBucky, that isāĀ oh my god, that is unacceptable!ā
āItās the truth,ā he growls, āI can practically smell you between your legs, your sweetness on my tongue. I want you to press your hips against my face and let me feast like a king. Slip my fingers in there and feel how you resist me, how you act like you donāt want this but youāre dripping all over my fingers.āĀ
The moan that climbs out your chest is involuntary and itās all Bucky needs before heās flipping you around and heās pressing your back against the pillar. A gust of wind blows, providing some semblance of reprieve to the sudden sweltering heat that blankets you. It does nothing to soothe Bucky who looks at you like youāre the perfect prey, skin exposed to him with your hair twisted up like the forbidden fruit.Ā
Bucky isn't a godless man, but in that moment he swears there isn't a higher power who could stop him from having you.
He silently asks the heavens to turn their gaze away from the sin he's about to commit. Because whatever happens next, he won't be seeking forgiveness.
He will only offer his thanks.
He kisses you again, tongue slipping past your lips just as he swallows your surprised sound. His tongue strokes against yours, licking up and pressing against it until youāre trembling against him.Ā
You no longer have authority over your body, how every ounce of energy dissolves into thin air against him, knees nearly sending you crumbling to the ground if it werenāt for his own strength holding you up. One of his hands is ont he back of your neck, keeping you close, and the other on your hip. His mouth continues to move against you as if heās savoring every inch of you.
Distracted by the taste of him and his seemingly contagious fever, you barely realize when Bucky peels back layer upon layer of your eveningwear. The weight of the fabric pools around your feet with a soft thump. His fingers are frantic as he pushes each piece off your shoulders, leaving you only in your shift and your stay. The corset is tight around your body and Bucky snarls to himself when he canāt seem to untangle the loops.Ā
Then you hear it, the sound similar to clicking tongues as Bucky tears it off your body. When the haze clears just enough for you to realize whatās been done, you shove him away from you, but your power doesnāt throw him very far.
āBucky, this is indecent. I canāt beāā
āWeāre too far past decency, my love.ā He stalks back towards you, capturing your lips in a languid kiss that eviscerates your objections into ash. āBeautiful. You had the eyes of everyone in that room tonight. I loathed seeing you surrounded by all those men earlier. Undeserving creatures who think that they have an opportunity with you.ā
āIāI wasnāt interested in any of them,ā you whine as he works his way down your neck, teeth and lips marking slow, deliberate claims against your skin. Ones that spell out mine.
āI know,ā he murmurs against your pulse, smiling as if the answer was never in doubt. āYou donāt need to fret. Youāre mine. I wouldnāt let them near you. I wouldnāt even allow you to look their way.ā
His mouth drags lightly over your skin again. Unhurried, certain.
āOnly me. Always me.ā
Itās not a question, nor an order. Heās stating a fact. For as long as you can remember, regardless of how many handsome bachelors walk through the palace doors ā or even through the staff entrance, you havenāt spared any of them a second glance. Your heart and eyes have always belonged to him.Ā
Bucky takes your hand and gently removes your gloves. He brings your hand up to his lips, placing one gentle kiss after another. First on your wrist, then up your forearm, to your bicep, until heās on your shoulder. He moves this final layer to the side just enough for him to press wet kisses on your collarbones.Ā Ā
However, despite his attempts to divert your attention away from the actual matter at hand, you canāt help but worry. His temperature is a far cry from normal, you fear what would happen if he werenāt observed and provided the necessary remedies.Ā
āYouāre sick, Bucky. Please let me take you back to the palace. Let me fetch your carriage so we can at least summon the royal physician to assess you.ā
āNo, wonāt help,ā he grunts, āneed toā need toāā and the next word that slips from his lips has your heart slamming against your ribcageā āfuck.ā
Your mouth dries and your own desires begin to overwhelm you. This isnāt right. Heās not himself. Heās not in his right mind. What he needs is a doctor and a bed andā
āSam said,ā he exhales harshly, āI need to get it out. To stop this.ā
āGet what out?ā
āNeed to finish.ā
Finish. Fuck. Your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper.Ā
He needs to climax.Ā
āDonāt think Iāll be satisfied with finishing once,ā he huffs honestly as his hands reach up to cup your breasts. He lets out a little pleased noise as he feels up your soft flesh, the shape of your breasts molding to his hand as he massages them. With only one barrier left between the two of you, it feels as if thereās nothing at all there. āMy gorgeous girl with her gorgeous tits. I always knew youād fit so perfectly in my hands. You donāt know how many times Iāve dreamt of this, putting my hands on them, pinching these lovely pert nipplesāā he moans as he tugs on your nipple, electricity coursing through you in a zing straight down to your core. āHow it would feel to have my cock tucked in between your tits.āĀ
You donāt have the voice to argue, nor the mind. All you can think about is how delicious it feels for Bucky to be touching you. Your head leans back as your eyes slide shut, your mind lost in the sensations of his touch.Ā
āPlease, let me have you, my love. I needā I need you.ā
His hand doesnāt wait for an answer, they begin to bunch up your skirt, pinning them against your hip with his wrist as his fingers trail up your inner thigh. You fight against your shudder and he lifts his mouth back to your lips to kiss you, just as his fingertips make contact with your core.
Youāre sticky down there already, a mess from the proximity and his scent and his feverish warmth. This is still Bucky ā your Bucky ā but heās also different, like all of the chains that have held him back, that have granted him the patience all these years, have been shattered. This is the result of all the times youāve rejected him again and again and again. All of the times that you have rejected these feelings within yourself.
Now the dam has been destroyed and all those times youāve swallowed your pride and your wants, theyāre finally being released and they completely drown you.
The moon reflects off the water, illuminating Buckyās face in a shifting series of ethereal colors. Even with the glimmer, his eyes are dark. A fog clouding his judgment. His desire is unwavering. The more you touch him, the more you let him touch you, the stronger the effects of his fever.Ā
If possible, he grows even warmer. His skin practically searing against yours but nothing burns more than his fingers between your legs, the delicate stroke of your lips, moist with the evidence of your lust.Ā
āYouāre drenched down here, my sweet girl,ā Bucky moans, āis this all for me? Were you thinking of me the same way I was thinking of you?ā
āBucky, please,ā you jolt, hips rising when he dips a tentative finger inside you.Ā
Itās almost embarrassing how easily he slips himself in there, aided by the slick between your legs. He pushes a finger in as he gulps down your pleasured sound, a desperate little cry as his fingers stretch out your insides.Ā
Youāve never had anyone else touch you like this. Youāve barely even touched yourself like this; even when left to your own devices with nothing more than your imagination and the lingering scent of Buckyās cologne on your threads, shame still restricts how much pleasure you allow yourself.
However, out there, with Bucky in control, you relinquish that power to him. You let him determine how much pleasure you experience, how much gratification you can get under his ministrations.
Buckyās fingers are skilled as they work you open, scissoring you open until your teeth sink into his shoulder. āMy pretty girl, look at you. I want to hear you cry for me, want to know how good I make you feel.ā
Obediently, your lips split open in a wail that shakes the air.Ā
āLet me have a taste of you,ā he murmurs and draws his hand away from you. The loss is almost instantaneous, a sudden chill where his touch had been, but itās replaced by the fire that burns bright in your gut the moment he drags his wet fingers along his lips. He breathes it in like heās memorizing the scent of you before he slides his fingers over his tongue. āGod, youāre perfect. Sweet, as I expected.ā
Then Bucky sinks to the ground and thereās something about the crown prince on his knees before you that has you faltering. Someone whose blood is bluer than the ocean shouldnāt risk scraping his knees for a mere maid ā and yet here he is.Ā
āHold your skirt up for me, sweet girl.āĀ
You want to protest. You want to say no. You want to remind him again that this isnāt a good idea but thereās determination in his eyes that have you whimpering, fingers reaching for the hem of your skirt to reveal yourself to him.Ā
Bucky drags a finger along your slit again, collecting the moisture and wiping it on his tongue with another moan. He leans forward and your eyes slide shut, heart thrumming in anticipation with the steady pulse in your veins. He kisses you slowly at first, making his way up your thigh but his patience is thin and soon enough heās burying his face between your legs.
His tongue strokes up your pussy, legs still clamped shut in your apprehension. Bucky looks a little irritated when he canāt seem to properly taste you so, with one hand, he holds one of your legs up by the thigh and opens up your leaking cunt to him. He curses under his breath when he sees you glisten in the flickering night.Ā
The stars in the sky blend in with the ones behind your eyes when he finally lays his lips on you. He mouths at you hungrily, like heās wolfing down his last meal. His tongue presses eager strokes along your walls that have your legs closing in around him again ā only for his hand to pry them open once more to grant him access to the nectar between your thighs.Ā
āSo sweet, so soft,ā Bucky groans against your pussy. His lips suckle eagerly, the lewd slurps ricocheting off the surfaces in this quiet night. In the distance, the music continues quietly, but here ā youāre accompanied by the sound of your quickening heartbeat and Buckyās delighted grunts.
Each time he licks you, he buries himself deeper and deeper, until his nose bumps against your clit and his face glistens with your arousal. Your fingers tangle in his thick hair, damp with the sweat from his fever. When you tug on it slightly, Bucky sticks his face in even deeper, moans even louder.Ā
You can see how his erection only grows underneath his trousers, needy for attention, and yet satisfied all the same by your own pleasure. He tilts his face to reach new angles, his fingers pushing inside of you to keep you full while his tongue flicks that sensitive bundle of nerves.
It doesnāt take you long fall apart, walls closing in around his tongue and his fingers, spasming with your orgasm ā the first of the evening.
For a moment, guilt enters your system and youāre forced to look down at Bucky remorsefully that he didnāt even achieve what he set out to do. However, you notice the shaking of his shoulders, a shudder wracking through him as his hips twitch upwards. A pulse down there.Ā
āY-you finished?āĀ
Bucky nods, unabashed as he comes to a stand. āDo you see what you do to me? Cumming untouched in my trousers like a prepubescent boy who canāt even control himself.ā
āI didnātā I mean, you didnāt even touch it.ā
āThe mere thought of you finishing around my mouth like Iāve always dreamed is enough for me, my love.ā He tucks a loose strand of your hair, one that have fallen loose from your updo, behind your ear. āHowever, Iām far from done. This fever ā I canāt break it without you. I have to have you.ā
Again, he doesnāt wait for your permission as he steals the air from your lungs with a passionate kiss. This time, you can taste the sweetness of champagne on his tongue along with something a little more unique. Something that belongs solely to you and now also belongs to him.Ā
āIāve been leaking for you all night, sweet girl,ā Bucky mumbles, āI couldnāt stop thinking what you look like underneath this dress. How soft and supple your body would be. Apparently, everyone else had the same thought. I could see how they looked at you. I should have them all stripped of their titles and banished from the land.ā
āBucky,ā you chide, warmth flaming your cheeks. āThat would be incredibly rude. Nobody did anything.ā
He rolls his eyes as he presses you back against the pillar, reaching down to his pants. You hear the fabric shifting as he holds you up and frees himself. Youāve never seen one in real life before, only those diagrams that Becca likes to tease you with.Ā
And the real thing looks far more intimidating.
It stands upright, a thick vein running along the top as the head strains red. It looks almost as if that line pulses, encouraged by the purplish lines that sit underneath the surface. A new pearl sits at the tip of him, pearlescent as it rolls down the length of his cock, already sticky and stained creamy white from the mess in his trousers. Itās fat and itās long and you canāt imagine that fitting inside you.Ā
You mustāve voiced your fears aloud because Bucky is then saying, āDonāt worry, mon couer. Weāll make it fit.āĀ
He lifts you up, drawing a squeal from your lips, as he wraps your legs around his waist. The head rests against your entrance, the sight of it already has your pussy drooling over the tip, like itās preparing for his cock.Ā
āSheās excited to have me,ā he muses quietly, āsheās dripping. So eager to have me. You havenāt been filled before, have you? Youāve never had another man touch you?ā
You mustāve taken a moment too long to respond, too preoccupied with the incredulity of the situation.
The low roar sounding from Buckyās chest has you looking at him. Fury claws at his eyes, the usual bright blue shifting darker as he sneers. His hands tighten around your hips. āHas anyone else touched you? Who is it? Is it the stableboy? Iāve seen the way he looks at you. Iāve been meaning to replace himāā
āBucky, god, no. Nobody!ā You pant, āWhere would I find the time?ā
āYou wouldnāt lie to me, would you? I know your good heart would want to protect them.ā
Your lips curl. āNo, I would have no reason to lie to you.Ā
āGood, because I fear the dire action I wouldāve had to take if you told me otherwise.āĀ
āIām not yours to own, Bucky,ā you snap.
āThatās where youāre wrong, sweet girl. Youāve always belonged to me, whether you knew it or not. Youāre mine and Iāll kill anyone who even dares to think about you.ā Another surprised sound escapes your lips and Bucky only smirks. āThis pussy especially. Iāll shape it to the size of me, you wonāt ever know pleasure with anyone else. Iāll train her to only please me and only me.āĀ
Before you can admonish him for acting so barbaric, Bucky notches the tip into you. You can already feel the stretch, your pussy resisting the entry of something soā¦ large. So imposing. But he pays it no mind; instead, he uses your own juices to lubricate his entry as he pushes slowly into you, inch by inch.Ā
He drives deep inside of you, swift and merciless the first time, to yank a gasp from your throat. Another expletive leaves his lips as his head rolls back, eyes slamming closed as he relishes in the feel of your cunt wrapping around him.Ā
Your entire body is under a spell, experiencing something otherworldly that no language you know could describe. It burns like youāve been placed on a stake to be set ablaze, like every atom in your body is being torn apart and rearranged. Itās divine deliverance in the pain, but one that provides you with the kind of relief you donāt expect.Ā
āYou feel soāā he chokes as he drags himself out before pushing back in, faster this time, the slide easier. The ache still screams between your legs but you let them fall apart anyway, allowing Bucky to take control over the situation.Ā
His name falls from your lips ā this time as a plea, but you canāt tell if youāre begging for him to stop or to go faster. You want to get past the hurt, want to feel the sort of pleasure that youāve only heard whispers about. But at the same time, a small piece of you relishes in that pain ā it reminds you that youāre human, that this is new, that this is real, and that Bucky is right here with you.
āSo tight, so fucking wet. Youāre completely soaking my cock, sweet girl. I always knew you were meant for me, this pussy was made for me. No one else can ever see you like this, do you understand me?ā
Bucky jerks his hips forward, his arms under your knees, hands on your ass as he presses you against the wall. The surface is solid against your spine, holding you upright as he fucks up into you. His grunts are muffled into your neck as he breathes you in, like your scent fuels the fire in his veins.Ā
When you donāt respond, too drunk off the sensations of Bucky driving into you at a pace that has you delirious, he punctuates one thrust particularly hard.
āI asked, do you understand me?ā
A sob crawls out of your throat as you nod, tears leaking down your eyes. He doesnāt apologize for your cries, he knows you better than that. These tears are from the overwhelming waves of emotion, the heightened tension that grips your lungs until you canāt seem to find the capability to breathe.Ā
āYou feel like heaven, my love. Iāll fuck you to the shape of my cock, until you canāt take anyone else but me ā until you wonāt even consider taking anyone else. Iāll ensure everyone in this kingdom knows that Iāve defiled you, that youāve taken my mark on your skin and inside of you. Iāll ensure that you will only be mine.āĀ
The shame settles hard and fast in the pits of your stomach. If everyone could see you like this, pinned outside against a wall by the prince, fucked like a whore in heat with your pussy clamping down around him, you could never show your face again. A desecrated maid who couldnāt keep her legs shut for a prince.Ā
Anyone would be lucky to have him, but no one in their right mind would let even the crown prince take them before marriage. They would rather die than be labeled a slut. A harlot. You would be the bane of your family, no one would speak of you again and you would be banished to the outerlands.Ā
But this is Bucky and even the concept of him keeping you as his dirty little secret only sends thrills through your veins.Ā
āBucky, you canātāā
He laughs, dark and sinister. Like the idea of him unable, unallowed to do anything is absurd. āIām the crown prince, sweet girl. I am the future of this kingdom. What I say goes. If I say you are mine then it is true. No one will come within a foot of you. Not after Iām done with you. Iāll make sure everyone sees the marks of my affection for you. Iāll imprint them in places everyone can see and other places that nobody will ever see.āĀ
His words have your heart clenching in mortification and a humiliating level of arousal. The debasement of your character, the degradation of your morality ā apparently none of it means anything if it means you have Bucky between your legs and his cock buried deep inside your cunt.Ā
āIāve laid my claim on you. No one else will ever touch you. Youāā thrust āāareāā thrust āāmine.āĀ
Staying true to his promise, his fingers dig deep into your flesh. Deep enough that youāll surely carry those bruises with you for some time. The litter of prints on your neck and above your breasts will have to be covered by your high necklines, gowns that would only raise suspicion in the summer.Ā
But most of all ā the taking of your virginity, your purity plucked from your hands and placed into Buckyās ā is the kind of mark you will never undo.Ā
Bucky is too lost in his own pleasure, too focused on delivering you to your second peak of the night to recognize the telltale signs of your climax approaching. Your whines crescendoing, the stutter of your heartbeat as your fingers sink into his shoulders. His name spilling from your mouth in an uneven rhythm.Ā
āI will cum in you, sweet girl. Iāll fill you up with so much cum, Iāll have you dripping all the way home, Iāll make sure youāre leaking all over the carriage before I take you again in my chambers. Gods, Iāll tie you to my bed, make sure that youāll never deny me again.ā
Your heart smashes into your chest, threatening to catapult out with his warning. For some godforsaken reason, the idea of being Buckyās plaything ā tied up with no other purpose than to serve his pleasure ā has you gasping in desire, your legs closing in around him as you feel your senseless craving crescendo.Ā
āYou want that, donāt you? You just want to be my pussy. Keep your legs open, this pretty cunt dripping yours and my cum all over my sheets. My darling girl is nothing but a whore who wants cock to keep her plugged up at all times. You wonāt have to worry about a thing ever again.ā
āBucky, pleaseāā
āIāll breed you until you carry my heir.ā
That jars you awake and youāre scrambling, a conflicting concoction of pure, unadulterated want with the terrifying fear of the consequences to follow. āYou canāt! Bucky, you have to stop. You canāt get meāā you hiccup, āāyou canāt get me pregnant. Your heir has to come from a proper bloodline.ā
āI no longer care about propriety and bloodlines. They have kept us apart long enough. Iām the crown prince and, what I want, I get. What I want is you and you alone. Why would I need some uptight, prissy noblewoman who doesnāt know how to cum around her husbandās cock?āĀ
āBucky!ā You gasp as he fucks you hard and fast. His pace is unrelenting and every slide of his cock inside you scrambles every single sensible thought in your mind.Ā
āAnd I have you ā I can feel your pussy choking me. You ā while youāre getting fucked outside with the risk of someone finding us. Yet, look at that, youāre squeezing me even tighter, my love. I always knew you were made for me. Every inch of my depravity, you take it even further. You complete me.ā
Your stomach coils with something deep and tight, an unknown force set out to subject you to the strongest cut of humiliating pleasure. As a proper woman, you shouldnāt take such words, even from a prince. You shouldnāt stoop so low as to attain this form of high.Ā
However, your mind and your body and your heart do not align. While your rational mind screams at you to put a stop to this, your adoration for Bucky ā now forced to surface after years of stomping on it and swallowing it with guilt ā and your pure primal need ā what many consider to be your purpose ā join and meld to push you to keep going.
To chase after this sought-after pleasure that few can even dream about. If the cost of is to reduce your dignity and pride, then so be it.
āAnd now, I will complete you,ā Bucky murmurs sweetly before he shoves himself inside you over and over again until youāre a weeping mess, your legs quaking as your body slides up against the wall with every thrust. Tears leak down your face, destroying Beccaās efforts to make you look beyond yourself.Ā
But all that physical destruction is worth it when your insides are being remade.Ā
With one final thrust, Bucky spills inside you. Warmth coating every part of your walls, thick, clinging onto your skin like itās marking you with a permanent mess. Your second climax twists inside your gut, rising up to your chest to constrict your lungs as your pussy curls tight around him. His need to complete you is complemented by your own need for the same. Your walls keep him in, trapped, until every single drop is milked from his cock and buried deep inside your cunt.Ā
Bucky doesnāt let up, he fucks into you until heās groaning sensitive against your neck. His breathing is even hotter than before, each exhale like a furnace in the middle of the desert.Ā
āIām not done with you yet.ā
Those words no longer spark fear, but zealous anticipation.Ā
Then Bucky takes you again ā you on your feet, him behind you as he fucks you against the wall, your breasts in his hands to hold him steady as he cums into you again, the milky white seeping out from where you two are joined. But then he misses your face too much so he grabs your chin, turns you to face him, and devours you in a messy kiss that has your teeth clicking almost painfully.Ā
Then he has you laid out over his clothes, your back on the floor, your knees and thighs against your torso, as he fucks deep inside you, promising you that itāll take this time. That heāll try as many times as he needs to until his seed takes.Ā
Then youāre on your hands and knees as Bucky pounds into you from behind, his thighs slapping against yours, his fingers reaching around to your clit in intentional circles that have your body quivering underneath him, and he doesnāt stop until youāre cumming around his cock and heās filling you up with another load.Ā
Then youāre cleaning him up, the taste of his cum and your pussy a more potent substance than all the liquor in the nation combined. The thick liquid spurts down your throat like youāre being fed your dessert, a treat for having done so well.
And again and again and again.Ā
For a while, you forget that Bucky is relentless only due to the poison in his veins, his depraved hunger only exacerbated by the delicious textures of your cunt around his cock. An addiction that he could never suppress.Ā
When both your limbs finally give and enough of the toxins have been excreted ā inside you, mind you, the two of you slump down on top of both your clothes. A mess of damp fabrics and fluids that even the best solvents in the kingdom could never remove.Ā
Bucky turns over to you with a groan ā the same sound thatās been rattling inside your mind, the same sound that will surely affix to every crevice inside your brain for weeks, if not months ā and slumps an arm over your waist.Ā
He nuzzles his face against your cheek, a small chuckle tickling your face. He hums, pleasantly exhausted. Youāre a disarray of tangled limbs and gummy skin. You canāt help but laugh too.Ā
āWhy are you laughing?ā He smiles, leaning down to press a kiss on your bare shoulder. Somewhere along the way, youāve stripped yourself of your final layer too, leaving you completely nude.Ā
The circumstances are far from believable. If you had told yourself that this was how your night would end, even your wildest imagination couldnāt have conjured up this conclusion. āI canāt believe weāre doing this in the middle of Lady Romanoffās ball.ā
āShe would skin us alive if she knew,ā he smirks.Ā
āYes, she would.ā
The third, unexpected voice has the two of you jumping, your fingers immediately reach for more clothes to cover you up, at the same time Bucky also drapes his jacket over your body.Ā
Lady Romanoff stands closer towards the land, where the water doesnāt extend. She then approaches, oil lamp in hand. You canāt unriddle whether her expression is contemptuous disgust or unpredicted amusement.Ā
Meanwhile, the two of you are still clad in nearly nothing, only the moonlight to cast shadows that cloak you.
āLady Romanoff, I apologize profusely. We didnāt mean any disrespectāā
Buckyās quick to interject. āIt was entirely my fault. I have been subjected toā¦ urges that were outside my control. It was a substance, you see.ā
His words have your heart palpitating in an uneven rhythm. The words land unexpected sharp, like a piercing wound straight through your beating organ.Ā
Urges that were outside my control.Ā
This was never meant to happen. You and Bucky. This night. All of it is a fever dream. A product of your desires catalyzed by a chemical compound. Bucky never wouldāve done it otherwise; the two of you have always run in parallel lines, never meant to intersect.Ā
All of his words ā sweet nothings.Ā
Just like this evening.Ā
āIām fully aware of the substance you speak of, I am frankly surprised that you would be so careless as to consume it at such a public place, your royal highness,ā Lady Romanoff muses.
Bucky winces, scratching the back of his ear awkwardly. āI stumbled and the container had been loose. Unfortunately, I was forced to consume nearly all of it ā at least, what didnāt end up on my clothing.āĀ
Lady Romanoff only hums thoughtfully. āIf I remember correctly, the aftermath to this substance would be a deep sleep. Rather fast, Iām afraid.ā This time, she turns to look at you. āI shall set up a room for the two of you ā you can enter through the back. Most of my regular staff is gone and Iāll arrange for my lady-in-waiting to prepare it. She is most discreet.āĀ
āWe canāā Bucky stops then, seeming caught off guard by the sudden dizzying spell. He sways slightly, words slurring together in a jumbled mess before he falls against you. His breathing even.Ā
āIt appears my memory serves me well,ā she says, voice tinged with unexpected pride. āCome, my dear.āĀ
As promised, most of the party has dwindled down to a few inebriated guests that Lady Romanoff organizes to be delivered home in their respective carriages. You and Bucky have been set up in a wing far from the prying eyes, this is where theyāve restricted most of Lady Romanoffās staff, only the trusted are allowed.Ā
Her lady-in-waiting and her most trusted butler had been sent to help carry Bucky back ā of course, after you properly dress him. No explanation was provided beyond the crown prince getting āill from the foodā, but you assume that they suspect something else is at play, particularly when you yourself look like youāve been mauled by a wild beast.Ā
After Bucky has been settled into his room and youāve been provided your own as a guest, which you insisted against, but Lady Romanoff insisted against your insistence, her staff is sent away. Bucky snores quietly on the bed, heās been in and out. He was somewhat awake long enough to help the butler walk him back into the mansion, enough to plop himself down on the mattress.
Your heart is uneasy with worry but Lady Romanoff touches your shoulder. āHe should be fine. He has most of it out of his system, I presume?ā She cocks an eyebrow. Heat crawls up your neck as you nod. āThen he will recover by morning. He may be weary for a while but heās in good hands.ā
āThank you for your generosity, Lady Romanoff,ā you murmur, āI do apologize for the inconvenience and myā¦ impudence.ā
āNo apologies needed. I spoke to Wilson and heās received an earful from me about bringing untested substances ā in unsealed containers, at that.ā She pauses then turns to you, āYouāve been quite the kindā¦ relative, for a distant one.ā
She knows. You know that she knows. She knows that you know that she knows.Ā
This is a mess.Ā
āYes, Iām rather used to caring for him,ā you clear your throat, and then realize what youāve just said. āIn a way where heās almost like my brother. We grew up together.ā And that one isnāt a lie per se.
āIām sure,ā she says with a twinkle in her eye. āWell, take my words with a grain of salt, but I would like to ask you to proceed with caution. You seem to be a smart woman, Iāve seen you with Becca, how you manage to fit right in with society. While I am a romantic at heart, I am also a realist ā and the truth is that the challenge will lie with you. As the crown prince, he will be untouched. Unharmed. The realm will protect him before it will protect a woman.ā
āI understand that,ā you nearly sigh, glancing back at Bucky.Ā
Itās what youāve always known ā your position in society. Itās why you never accepted Buckyās advances, nor your own feelings regarding him. Itās easier to pretend that it doesnāt exist, that you arenāt in love with the crown prince as a mere maid ā even if it hurts.Ā
āBut his royal highness is also a good man. Iām sure he will choose wisely,ā Lady Romanoff smiles. āNow, please rest. I will arrange for separate carriages to deliver you both home in the morning.ā
āI should return nowāā
āWhat you should do is rest,ā she presses with a pointed look. āFurthermore, I believe he could use some tending to tonight ā in case he wakes or hasā¦ remaining urges.ā
Sheās teasing you, and itās working because your face feels like itās been trapped in a heatwave all day. āIāll make sure he gets through the night and will depart first thing in the morning. I wouldnāt want to inconvenience you any further.ā
āNo inconvenience. This has perhaps been the most entertaining occurrence this season.ā Her eyes are practically twinkling in delight.Ā
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. āLady Romanoff, please forgive me for overstepping, but if I could ask for your discretion regarding this matterāā
She waves you off with a reassuring smile. āYou need not ask. I understand the position you are in and I would never trouble another woman more than necessary. I also would not enjoy making an enemy out of the palace and I doubt the crown prince would let things slide if anything were to happen to his precious lover.ā
Your mouth opens to correct her, she gives you a look that tells you not to even attempt to lie to her. You technically wouldnāt be fibbing.Ā
After all, it was only his urges that allowed him to do such things to you tonight. At the end of the day, youāre still nothing more than a maid ā a member of the royal staff. A lover is what you are not.Ā
āHave a good evening, dear.ā
āYou as well, Lady Romanoff.ā
Once she leaves the room, you go to check on Bucky one last time before you move to your own room; it is an adjacent space, connected by a door should you need access to his room. That distance, while small, still feels much too large.Ā
You pull the blanket up higher on his waist, brush the wet strands away from his face as you check his temperature again. His fever has come down plenty, heās at least broken through it and now heās simply sweating out the rest.Ā
With that, you pull your hand away and ready yourself to move to your own room.Ā
Except, you donāt get the chance, not when you feel those familiar fingers wrap around your hand before you could move. You whirl around to find Bucky drowsily looking up at you. His eyes glow in the moonlight spilling through the massive windows.Ā
āStay,ā he murmurs.
āYour royal highness, I should return to the chambers Lady Romanoff has provided. If the staff were to return, I wouldnāt want to have to explain the circumstances.ā
āHow many times have I told you not to call me that?ā He says, but thereās no bite to his words, only affection.
You swallow thickly, chancing another look at your door.
āStay,ā he insists again, āplease.ā
Who are you to deny the crown prince? Your frail heart canāt seem to do that, not when it could be your last evening with him.Ā
So, you slide under the covers when he makes room with a giddy little smile. He tucks you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. āSleep, sweet girl.ā
And for once, you listen to him.Ā
Come morning, the reality of the situation has carved itself deep into your bones. While you wake up in Buckyās warmth, his arms around you and your legs on top of each other, you know that this is the last part of your dream. The epilogue. This will be nothing more than a memory, maybe even the figment of one.Ā
You swiftly clean yourself up, ensuring that you are properly clothed and presentable before you make your way to where Lady Romanoff had directed you. She is nowhere to be found but a carriage has been arranged to take you back to the palace. The sun hasnāt even risen when you slipped out of bed.
With one last look at Bucky whoās still sleeping peacefully, you take your leave.
Youāre back early enough that none of the staff are awake yet, but you also canāt bring yourself to sleep. The gown Becca had lent you hangs by your door quietly, a stark reminder of the evening you thought you had crafted in your mind. You turn over to ignore it.Ā
However, slumber doesnāt find you and so you begin your duties early. The princessā gown, the tea, everything a lady-in-waiting should do in the palace.Ā
Itās expected that Becca has questions about where you went last night. She was frantic with worry at the thought of losing you somewhere, or if something had happened to you that she refused to leave.
āLady Romanoff informed me that you and Bucky had returned earlier because he was ill,ā she says, forehead creasing with lines, āI apologize that your night was ruined by my brother. I was hoping you would enjoy the remainder of the ball.ā
āI enjoyed it plenty already, donāt worry,ā you smile. āThank you for giving me that opportunity.ā
āWell,ā she eagerly presses, āwere there any handsome bachelors that caught your eye?ā
Only one and he is the one you certainly cannot have.Ā
āNo, I believe we were out there to assess the men for your own relationship.ā
Becca blushes, fanning her face. āNo, no one of importance.ā Sheās never been a good liar. āOkay, there was one but Bucky would kill me if I tried. Have you ever noticed how attractive Lord Rogers is? He also has such a kind heart.ā
If he had a kind heart, he wouldāve stopped Bucky from taking that ridiculous substance, you think bitterly, unfairly.Ā
āIām sure he is,ā you only say.Ā
āHow was your evening then? Did you really not see anyone to your liking?āĀ
You smile softly at her. āPrincess, even if there were, it would not be my place.ā
āThatās rather unprogressive of you! Iām sure there are suitors who would care little about such trivial things.ā
Naive, hopeful Becca. This is why you love her.Ā
Before you can respond, Becca perks up and waves behind you. You turn and thatās when you see him ā Bucky. Heās crossing the ground with long strides like a man possessed. Heās a man on a mission as he wastes no time at all in closing the distance.
He looks furious.
He also looks an outright mess ā shirt unbuttoned, sleeves haphazardly folded, hair sticking up at odd angles. It looks as if he rolled right out of bed at the Romanoff house and came straight here. Here to this garden that youāre walking with Becca.Ā
You have a feeling that thatās exactly what he did.
āBrother, youāre looking much betterāā
āYou left,ā he instead speaks directly to you.
You grit your teeth, doing your best to avoid Beccaās look of utter confusion. āIām afraid I donāt know what you mean, your royal highness.ā
āI thought weāve established that weāre past that level of formality,ā he snaps, āIām not letting you escape this conversation. If youāll excuse me, sister dear, I need to have a little chat with this one.ā His hand covers yours, none of the gentleness from last night, instead he squeezes it tight like heās afraid of you slipping away again.Ā
Becca doesnāt follow, sheās too busy gaping and slowly piecing things together.Ā
All the while Bucky is dragging you stumbling and tripping over your own feet towards a more secluded part of the gardens, away from the curious eyes.Ā
Youāre trying to pry his fingers off you to make your escape. āBucky, stop. Stop this.ā
He does stop dead in his tracks but he immediately spins around to face you. āNo, you stop,ā he growls and the sound shoots straight for your chest. āAfter last night, after everything thatās happened, you simply ā what ā leave? I woke up and you were nowhere to be found. Lady Romanoff was the one who had to tell me that you departed earlier.ā
āI had to return to my duties first,ā you say brusquely, āI have responsibilities to tend to, your royal highness. It also would have been inappropriate and highly suspicious if we arrived at the same time.ā
āDamn propriety,ā he barks, eyes glowering, āI think you should cross that word off your vocabulary after last night.ā
Said last night flashes before your eyes, like paintings that could force a priest to pray. Youāre warm all over now, the ghost of his touch on your skin, his mouth mapping out every inch of you like heās memorizing the dips and curves of your body. The feel of his cock, hot and wet, sliding inside you, spilling evidence that took you far too long to clean last night.Ā
Even now, you can almost still feel it dripping down your legs.
āYou left,ā Bucky presses.
āYou werenāt yourself last night. Like you said, they were urges as a consequence of the substance you accidentally took. It was nothing more than a fulfillment of the circumstances.ā
He scoffs, āI said that to Lady Romanoff, not to you. I did not want her to hold you responsible for the state we were in. To me, last night wasā last night was everything.ā
The lump in your throat only grows, tears prick your eyes. He canāt do this. Not now. Youāve made your decision to let that dream go.Ā
āIt shouldnāt have happened,ā you whisper.
āShouldnāt have happened?ā He echoes, aghast. āIs that regret I hear in your voice?ā
āBuckyā¦ā
āBecause I donāt regret it. Not a single damn thing. I want you, Iāve always wanted you. Iāve made it very clear that I love you and thereās nothing I wouldnāt do for you. If I had to give it all up, I would ā if that meant that I could finally hold you.āĀ
āYou canāt say such things!ā You hiss, āYou are the crown prince!ā
āAnd sometimes I wish I wasnāt! Because it would make this easier, wouldnāt it? You wouldnāt have to restrain yourself every time you speak with me. You wouldnāt have to call me such ridiculous titles when all I want is for you to say my name. Because I know you love me, I know you do. You canāt look at me the way you do and expect me to believe that you donāt feel anything for me.ā
Your heart splits down the middle, parts of it chipping away. āIā it doesnāt matter how I feel or what I want. You have a long line of noble ladies waiting for you to make your choiceāā
āIāve already made my choice and damn anyone else who gets in my way. Iāve already had a taste of you, my love. Iām never letting you slip through my fingers again. Iāll speak to my parentsāā
āDonāt!ā You interrupt. āPlease donāt. Itāsā it wonāt be you who would suffer the consequences. If they know of whatā¦ we did, if they know that it goes far beyond the previous evening, it wouldnāt be you they punish. My mother and Iā¦ā Your sentence trails off as your voice cracks.Ā
Bucky cups your face, presses his forehead against yours. āI wouldnāt dare let a thing happen to you.ā
āItās not your choice.ā
āIt is. If they want me to be their heir, this is my choice. They have to make theirs.āĀ
āThatās ridiculous.ā
āNo, thatās love.ā
You swallow thickly as he leans back only slightly, pained like he canāt even bear this amount of distance between the two of you.Ā
āI love you. I love you and thatās a fact truer than the sun that spills light onto this earth. I wonāt let anything happen to you. I promise to care for you, to cherish you. I promise to be a man fit for you. I wonāt be perfect because god knows nobody in this world could deserve you, but Iāll always try my damndest to make you happy.ā
āBucky,ā you breathe out..
āSay yes. Say youāll be mine. Youāve made me wait all this time. All these years wasted. Donāt let us forego anymore.ā
Could you really do this? It would be a risk ā not only to you, but to your mother, to the staff. They would be questioned if theyāve ever encouraged your entanglement with the prince. Becca ā oh god, what would Becca even think? It would be an incredibly selfish decision.Ā
āDonāt do that,ā Bucky murmurs as he tightens his fingers around your face, ādonāt think about anyone else. Think about you and what you want.ā
You want him. You do.
āYouāre mine regardless, sweet girl. Iāll protect you no matter what you decide. My heart is yours.ā
āYes,ā you whisper and the answer comes easier than you think, āyes. Iām yours.ā
Bucky lets out a wet laugh, blue eyes glistening as he presses his lips against yours. āYouāre mine. Iāll protect you, I swear it.ā
āIām scared.ā
āI know,ā he rasps, āI know. Thank you for trusting me. I promise to do right by you. No matter what happens, know that my entire life is yours. Iād burn the kingdom down before I let anyone lay a finger on you.ā
āBecca might get to you first,ā you choke out a laugh.
Bucky swipes the tears from your cheeks with the pads of this thumb. āThen maybe I will have to take your protection first.ā
āDeal.ā
+ sam: my google searches from this are so embarrassing but hey i tried. i havent written bucky in a hot second but this one took me by the throat so i hope you enjoyed it!!! i love hearing thoughts so please share them if you liked it <3
Your lives have always moved in parallel: close enough to touch, yet separated by an irreconcilable distance. Bucky is a prince and you are his sister's lady-in-waiting. But love ignores rank, and so does the kingdom's newest desire-inducing substance.
āø PAIRING: Prince!Bucky Barnes x Lady-in-Waiting!Reader
āø WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, dubcon because of sex pollen, so much yearning, slight hurt/comfort, public sex, porn with too much plot tbh, possessive!bucky, degradation, filthy talk that border on dubcon but know that she wants to be there as much as him, breeding kink, insecurities, both virgins, bucky is nasty and a lil mean under the influence, probably a lot of historical inaccuracies
āøĀ WORD COUNT: 16.1K
āø A/N: "this will be a short pwp," i say, famous last words. thank you so much to @iamthatonefangirl and @barnesonly for organizing this collab. dedicated to @artficlly in honor of pursuit of jade episode 37 iykyk ā i'm gifting you the sex pollen by the stream that we never got <3 hope you enjoy this baby of mine. if you do, please let me know your thoughts (even if they are incoherent) through reblogs, comments, and likes!!
ā¤ main masterlist | bwat summer masterlist
Princes James Buchanan Barnes has everything he could ever want. A palace fit for the king that he will eventually become. Mountains of jewels that shine brighter than the sun and all the stars combined. Bespoke dress uniforms made from the finest fabrics, adorned with elegant aiguillettes and medals of his valor in battles fought and won. Countless women and men alike throwing themselves at his feet for the opportunity of him even sparing them the briefest of glances.
But the only one he truly wants, the only person he truly wishes to hold, is the one thing he cannot have ā and itās you.
Youāve been destined to become Princess Beccaās helper since you were born. Your mother had served the family for two generations; you were born in the palace, raised in the hustle and bustle of the castle with all the live-in staff. You spent years refining your cooking skills in the kitchen that seemed to function twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, decades toiling away in the garden with the landscaper to take care of the queenās prized roses, and occasionally sneaking into the palace library for a quick novel or two when your mother took her eyes off you.
It was a natural pathway for someone who wasnāt born to nobility yet was constantly surrounded by it.Ā
Fortunately, growing up in this kingdom that is governed with kindness and compassion means that there are paths to advancement that you never anticipated, mainly becoming Beccaās lady-in-waiting. The two of you had been raised together, joint at the hip, to the point where you may not even distinguish which of you is the real princess. The king and queen had welcomed you as if you were one of their own.Ā
Of course, you know that itās far from the truth. Despite their accommodations and generosity, youāve always known your place in society. There is a reason why Becca is the one covered in silver and gold, while youāre handstitching the holes in your clothes. Sheās seated at a table for twelve with a wide array of dishes and pastries all created to her liking, while you join your fellow staff members for a family meal, cramped together in a table meant for half of you.Ā
Youāve always drawn that line, regardless of how many times Becca tries to cross it.
āCome now, you must come with me to Viscountess Romanoffās ball!ā She huffs, stomping her feet as she always does when she does not get what she wants.
You let out a sigh and Beccaās face falls as she prepares herself for your disappointing response. āPrincessāā she glares and you bite your tongue, āBecca, that is not my place.ā
āOf course, it is! Many ladies-in-waiting go to these balls.ā
āLadies-in-waiting that were born into nobility,ā you correct her with a look.Ā
āIt doesnāt matter. Youāre my lady-in-waiting and I need you there toā toā fix my dress!ā
You know it isnāt true ā well, it is only true to the extent that Becca may become ridiculously inebriated and has to be stowed away before she can go as far as risk the royal familyās reputation, and you somehow have become the most reliable person for those circumstances.Ā
However, there are many there that will surely keep her on her toes ā literally, including her brother.Ā
āDid you hear that? She needs you to fix her dress. You simply have to attend now.ā
The interruption brings both of your attention to the door where Bucky is leaning against the doorway, a smirk curled on his lips. His eyes skip past Becca and land on you and ā heaven almighty.Ā
He drinks you in, you in your simple gown, yet his sapphire eyes warm all the same. They darken like the evening has arrived far too early and the moon is nowhere in sight. His smile dims slightly, if only for him to clamp down on the inappropriate sound that climbs up his throat.Ā
Bucky has never been good at subtlety.Ā
You drag your eyes away and back to the lady that youāre supposed to be waiting on. The lady who is currently huffing and puffing as she plops down on the sofa with a scowl. āWill you please convince her to come, Buck?ā
He steps further into the room. The air is a little heavier, like his presence has sucked all the oxygen out of the space ā but only for you. Your fingers twist quietly together in front of you as you force yourself to stand upright, force yourself to keep looking ahead when his arm brushes yours ā an inappropriate proximity for a prince and a member of the staff.Ā
Discreetly, you take one step to the side, just enough to put distance that allows you room to breathe, lest you risk Becca suspecting something transpiring between the two of you.
āYou should come,ā Bucky murmurs. His gaze is warm on your cheek. His blue eyes no doubt soft as they take you in.Ā
You resist and instead address Becca. āThat would be unacceptable, Prā Becca. Please. The crown prince will be in attendance and the viscountessā staff are more than capable. Iāve met many of them and you will be in good hands.ā
āWell, the crown prince would appreciate his ability to drink the viscountessā liquor supply for the night without worrying about whether his dear sister can control her alcohol,ā Bucky chimes in, which earns a roll of the eyes from Becca.Ā
āI can control my drinking, Bucky. Can you control your deviant desires in the presence of all the other women in the ton?ā
Your heart skips a beat. A little nick in your chest to draw blood. You can practically hear the smile wipe off Buckyās face, his face red as he grits his teeth. āYou know thatās not true, sister dear. Iāve never once laid a hand on them.ā
āDoesnāt mean you donāt try,ā Becca shoots right back.
Another scratch, enough to peel back another layer to your bleeding heart.Ā
It shouldnāt ā doesnāt ā matter. There has never been anything between you and Bucky. He is the crown prince and you were born to be a ladyās maid at best; it was only the queenās philanthropy and Beccaās friendship that you were granted this promotion.Ā
Bucky is meant to marry a princess from another kingdom, or at the least someone born to a proper, respectable family with titles.Ā
Neither of which is you.
āRebecca Marie Barnes.ā Buckyās voice is sharp; it slices through the air and straight towards Becca whose face goes cold the moment it lands.Ā
Beccaās lips purse in annoyance. āIām going to look for a dress for tonight.ā Then sheās lifting her dress and stomping away.
You make a move to follow, only for Bucky to swiftly take your hand. You donāt turn. Bucky forces you to when he tugs you towards him, spinning you around so you land against his chest. Youāre quick to flatten your palm on it to push yourself away, but instead, he catches your hand and presses it over his heart.Ā
āItās not true,ā he murmurs. āIāve never once shown any of them any interest.ā
Donāt cry. Youād be a fool to cry over a prince. You steel your gaze as you look up at him. āIt would be in your right to do so. A crown prince is meant to take a wife.ā
Irritation flickers across his eyes. āThereās only one woman I wish to take as a wife but she seems to deny me that right at every turn. What say you to that?ā
āA crown prince is meant to take a proper wife. One fit for the ton.ā
āI donāt give a damn about the ton.ā
āBucky!ā The chiding comes out on instinct, his name sliding on your tongue like water. Habit ā one that you shouldāve curbed a long time ago if it werenāt for the two of them always insisting that you call them by their names.Ā
Buckyās face thaws, mouth curving into a delighted smile. You try to extract yourself from his grasp again but fail to do so when he ducks his head, lips brushing the shell of your ear. A shiver snakes up your spine as he drags you closer to him. āI love when you say my name. Iād love it even more if you called me your husband.ā
Your traitorous heart slams against your ribs. Foolish desires plague your very being. Itās been decades since you were first introduced to Bucky, ten years since you first defended Becca against Buckyās teasing, and far too long since you first fell for the crown prince.Ā
Itās not as if your feelings are not reciprocated; Bucky has made it clear from the start that he adores you dearly. Adores you in a way that is far from acceptable for a prince. But your mother has reminded you time and time again that, no matter how intimately acquainted you are with them, you will never be one of them.Ā
And Bucky deserves a partner ā an equal. Someone who can stand tall and proud beside him without the risk of gossip and mockery. You would only give him grief and he would certainly bore of you in the future once the thrill of the chase is done.Ā
So you exert more effort this time to push him away. āPrince Barnes, I must ask you to maintain some semblance of decorum. If youāll excuse me, I have to tend to the princess.ā You do a small curtsy, ignoring the flash of pain in his eyes as you walk away.
This is how itās supposed to be. This has always been your fate.
āYou have to try this on. Please? For me?ā
It begins as an innocent enough request. Becca was in the midst of selecting her gown for the evening and that meant that you were right by her side, providing her with the necessary words of affirmation for her to make a decision.Ā
These are the most challenging questions that royalty have to deal with. Sometimes you dream of living such a comfortable life, pampered daily with the sweetest of treats and lavishing yourself with the praise of society. However, you know that things arenāt so simple. There are restrictions that come with being part of this family.
You saw firsthand how many classes Becca had to take as part of her education āĀ in addition to the typical academic courses, she had to spend hours learning proper etiquette, how to sew, how to play a musical instrument, how to entertain and host a gathering. They had to prepare her for her future as a wife. While options are limited for women in society, they are practically a straight-line path for a princess who is not in line for the throne.Ā
Her career, her future, her partner āĀ everything is almost pre-destined.
One day, Becca will marry someone. While she dreams of a happily ever after, she also understands the political nature of matrimony. To maintain power, you have to seek power. She may not be here a few years from now when sheās officially married off to extend her fatherās reign. Her parents have insisted that they would never force her to marry, but Becca has always had a strong sense of responsibility.
You both admire and hold sympathy for her.Ā
Unfortunately, in this very moment, you would like to push her out of the carriage so you too could make your escape. Somehow, she has managed to rope you into going to the ball ā in one of her dresses.Ā
āThis is completely inappropriate,ā you hiss. āI should not be here.ā
āI want you here.ā
āBecca,ā you exhale deeply, āif your parents knew about this.ā
āItās a masquerade ball! Nobody will know.ā
āIām coming with you! I fear that makes it quite obvious.ā
āIāll tell them youāre one of our very distant cousins ā one from a land far, far away.ā
You pinch your nose as the carriage rattles, the silk of your glove glides along your skin. Pulling your hand away, you canāt help but look at the delicate fabric on your skin.Ā
When you first tried the clothes on, you could hardly believe your eyes. You didnāt even look likeā¦ you. Gone were your well-worn gowns. The tightness of the corset has you a little breathless, but the dress adorned with intricate sequins and embroidery sliding over your body like water. The silver shimmers underneath the moonlight that spills past the curtains of the carriage, white camellias sewn in a river down your shoulder to your waist.Ā
You reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear, only for your fingers to brush over the diamond necklace that Becca has so thoughtfully loaned you. The gems catch light, winking at you as if theyāre letting you in on a secret. Then your fingers catch on your mask, a combination of beads and lace trimming, the same flowers framing the corners of your eyes.Ā
In all your life, you could never have even dared to dream of wearing such things. You never imagined that you would be swimming in such luxury.Ā
If your mother could see you now, she would absolutely murder you. She would bury you six feet under before the royal guards could even get to you.Ā
You know that neither the queen nor king would mind, but what would the rest of them think if they knew? What if they found out that you were no more than a girl born into somewhat fortunate circumstances? That your blood was redder than most of them. Common.Ā
A hand lands atop yours. Becca peeks at you with a nervous smile. āHey, itāll be fun. Youāve never been to one of these. Please try to enjoy yourself. I promise that nobody will say a thing.ā
āWhat if I stand out? What if they know that I donāt fit in with the rest of them?ā You whisper.Ā
Becca squeezes your hand. āIf you stand out, itās because you look far more beautiful than the rest of them. If you stand out, itās because they are looking at you with envy. You couldāve easily been the diamond of the season.ā
Warmth creeps up your neck as the carriage pulls to a stop. You can already hear the music filtering through the entrance; the sound mingles with the fast rhythm of your heartbeat in a symphony that echoes through your mind.Ā
āShowtime,ā she beams.
Now, as someone who has been directly involved in the planning, decorating, and organizing of the extravaganzas, youāve seen your fair share of ridiculously opulent displays. The palace is, after all, renowned for hosting the grandest of balls, bringing together only the whoās who of society. The guest list is selective, both for security and exclusivity reasons. It is the most sought-after invitation of the season. So when you walk into the viscountessā home, you didnāt think you would be impressed.
However, you have never been happier to be proven wrong. Every inch of this place has been meticulously swathed in a color scheme perfect for the summer. Florals in every shade of the sunset draped across banisters, hanging over the staircase leading down to the dance floor, and standing tall in structures that do not look humanly possible.
Butlers and maids dressed head to toe in fine fabrics float around the room carrying hors d'oeuvres that look more like miniature works of art. Macarons that match the colors of the flower arrangements, tarts with crusts that crumble perfectly on your tongue, bonbons in perfect spheres dusted in cocoa, and fruits plucked from the vines at their ripest, sweetest point.
The stars twinkle above you to complement the tiny candles that string across the railings to illuminate the room, only outshone by the chandeliers with flickering flames hanging above you. Guests in their Sunday bests drift around the room in excited chatter, spreading the newest gossip that will surely make the papers by morning.
Heads turn as you and Becca enter the room and, before you can duck behind her, sheās linking her arm through yours and pulling you forward into the crowd.
āBeccaāā
āBreathe, this will be fun. Enjoy the treats and the wine. The viscountess has exceptional taste, she has gathered the best chefs in the kingdom in her kitchen. Mother simply adores visiting her for tea for the food alone.ā
Becca walks through the room with the confidence of someone who owns it. Everyone knows her as the princess even hidden behind the mask, murmurs of awe rippling across the crowd. The men pay particularly close attention, eager to get hers. The women speak of her in resentful admiration.
Becca ā the belle of the ball. You, her companion.
āTheyāre looking at you,ā she giggles quietly in your ear.
āNo, theyāre looking at you, Princess.ā
āIāve been in enough of these rooms to know when people are looking at me. While some are focused on me, most of them are keeping a close eye on you.ā
āLikely to see when they would have the opportunity to speak to you alone no doubt,ā you mutter under your breath.
Becca frowns at you. āMust you be so cynical? You look absolutely stunning. If you gave the room a chance, youād know how many of them are keen on dancing with you. In fact, why donāt we put it to a test?ā
Right as youāre about to ask her what she means, Becca moves away from you, pretending to be drawn by the dessert that appears to be running away from her. Her name leaves your mouth but you donāt get very far when three men approach you. All of them impeccably dressed, all of them handsome ā at least, from what you can see with the mask.
āMy lady, would you grant me the honor of joining me for a dance?ā
Your lips part in surprise, eyes darting around the room to search for the princess. Becca stands off in a corner, grinning proudly to herself as she nibbles on a cream puff. You bite down the urge to curse before politely turning to the men. āMy apologies, I should be getting back to my companion. I canāt leave her for far too long.ā
You take a step and one of them moves directly in your path. āIām sure sheāll find the company of others just as pleasant. Please, you must grant each of us a dance. It would be a privilege for us.āĀ
Although youāve danced before, itās mostly to help Becca with her training. You have no idea how these dances work during the balls ā the coordination, the etiquette. Your heart begins to race as your throat closes in a panic.
āI canātāā
āOne. One song is all I ask.ā
āThen mine next.ā
āAnd then me.ā
Your chest flares as you search around the room for Becca again but she is nowhere to be found. Your skin begins to burn as your survival instincts kick in. The last thing you need is for these men to notice and question how theyāve never seen you before at such events, and you would have to craft a convoluted fib that you would be forced to maintain.
Just as you are about to deny them again, a hand presses against the low of your back.
āMy lady.ā
The voice grounds you in a familiar presence. You look up to find Bucky ā even through the mask, youād know it was him. His favorite cologne clings to the threads of his jacket and his hair, thick and styled, is one you can practically feel on your fingertips. Those days spent by the riverbend, his head on your lap as you read him sonnetsā
No. This is not the time to be sentimental.
āYour royal highness.ā The men stumble over each other to greet him, their energy shifting to nervous jitters as they look amongst each other.
āI believe the point of the masks is anonymity,ā he says smoothly. āNow, if you wouldnāt mind, I would like to invite this lovely lady to a dance.ā
He doesnāt wait for your answer, he simply takes your hand and whisks you into the crowd. You donāt have time to think about the consequences of this, more relieved that youāve escaped that sticky situation.
āThank you,ā you breathe out.
āI believe I should be thanking you for this dance,ā he grins.
āHow did you find me?ā
āI could find you even if you were across the world, mon cher.ā You roll your eyes and Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. āI donāt think youāre supposed to respond that way to the crown prince.ā
āPerhaps if the crown prince didnāt use such predictably embarrassing lines.ā
His lips curl again. āI noticed you the moment you walked into the room. Most beautiful woman tonight. Most beautiful woman Iāve ever known, in fact.ā
āHavenāt you been taught that dishonesty is unbecoming on a man?ā You snip back.
āYou wound me,ā he gives a little shake of his head, āOut of everyone, you know that you would be the last person I would attempt to bathe in false affirmations. I know you can see through those pretenses.ā
āThen why try?ā
āOh ye of little faith. If you wanted praise from me, you could just say soāā
You balk, snapping back in surprise. āThat was not my intention!ā
Bucky squeezes your hand as he shifts you around the room. It is then that you realize heās been guiding your movements all along, every one of your steps falling in line with the others around you. Heās always been a good dancer, far better than Becca who had resisted these lessons for the longest time.
āYou look absolutely ravishing tonight,ā he ducks his head to whisper in your ear. The smell of him infiltrates your senses, his warmth, the brush of his hair against your cheek. āOf course, you couldāve worn nothing at all and you would undoubtedly still be the most fetching person in this room.ā
āIf I wore nothing at all, then Iām sure I would fetch the eyes of everyone in this room,ā you tease with a small quirk of your lips.
Bucky goes momentarily taut, stiff as he spins you and then pulls you in even closer. His hands tighten around you, like heās fearful you would slip away at any moment. āThank the heavens you opted for clothing today. I would rather not imagine anyone else seeing you in such a state. Iād have to dramatically increase this kingdomās beheading rate. If I do that, what kingdom would I have left to rule?ā
āBecause youād have to eliminate the witnesses to my humiliation of the royal family?ā
āBecause I have limited self-restraint when it comes to you.ā You cock an eyebrow in question. āI would have to eliminate anyone who has ever seen you in such an intimate state. Iām a tad possessive you see, Iād rather be the only person alive whoās ever seen you in all of your raw beauty.ā
Heat flushes along your skin, a sudden rise in temperature that rarely occurs at this time in the evening. āYouāve never seen me in such a state.ā
āI would be the first and the last, my dear. Iāve never been very good at sharing.ā
āI am not an object to own, your royal highness,ā you bite out with a sour curl of your lips.
āYouāre not,ā Bucky murmurs softly, ābut my heart belongs to you and I was hoping that yours to me ā and your affection is the one thing I refuse to ration.ā
You look up to meet his eyes. Earnest blue eyes that are far too honest for your liking. That gaze thatās dripping with the kind of affection he cannot counterfeit. Your movements nearly falter, your knees suddenly weak, but Bucky holds onto you even tighter.
āBucky, Iāā
Your gaze snags on the view behind him ā a line of women watching the two of you, glowering green seeing your frame tucked against Buckyās. Women who undoubtedly come from near and far in search of a notable husband to match or increase their standing in society. What better catch than a prince?
Instead of investing his time looking for a proper candidate for a wife, he is instead wasting these minutes with you. Itās been three songs, far from appropriate for two acquaintances, suspicious enough that you can hear the whispers of speculation begin to circulate the room. As the song comes to an end, youāre quick to curtsy in front of him.
āThank you for the dance.ā
You whirl around before he can say another word and disappear into the throng, leaving Bucky to be swarmed by women who are far better suited for him.
Becca stands by a corner, having watched all of this transpire. Sheās barely paying any mind to the gentlemen suitors around her. When you come around to her, sheās immediately distancing herself and rushing towards you. Her gaze is eager, far too eager.
Sheās had at least two drinks then.
āHow was it? I saw you out there.ā
āIt was fine,ā you mutter.
āYouāve only had one dance and it was with my brother. Methinks itās time to expand your registry. How about the Duke? I hear he gets a little bit handsy and a little fun can do no harm.ā
After your conversation with Bucky, you seriously doubt that. You would rather avoid this ball turning into a beheading festival tonight ā or Bucky ruining his pristine reputation with society when he decides to do an execution in the middle of the dance floor.
Bucky is many things but he is not a liar. Whether he exaggerates is up for debate but that is not a theory you want to test tonight.
āOr shall we have a few more to drink in the meantime? Their champagne is quite lovely. I heard the viscountess had sourced all of the vintages from her favorite year.ā
āLadies.ā
Speak of the devil. The two of you find yourselves in front of the viscountess. Even beneath the mask, her vibrant ruby hair is an easy identifier. She is cloaked in a glimmering black fabric with touches of red, breasts pushed up with the tight wrap aroung her waist. Spiders are stitched into her mask, crawling up the sides.
āLady Romanoff,ā Becca cheers, āwhat a lovely ball youāve thrown. This is stunning, our chefs simply must learn from yours, otherwise Iād be tempted to sneak a few of those macarons up my sleeve before I leave.ā
The viscountess laughs. āPrincess, if you desire the macarons, I shall ensure that they are delivered to the palace by the morning. I believe your queen mother is also rather fond of the bonbons I source from France, Iāve already arranged for it to be sent tomorrow and Iāll make sure we include your macarons with that delivery.ā
āYou are most kind and gracious.ā
Then she turns her eyes to you and you freeze. āAnd I do not believe weāve met. Your name, dear?ā
Your eyes flick to Becca momentarily before returning to her. You should lie. You should give her another name, but the viscountess has been known to be shrewdly intelligent. If you were caught in a fib, you would likely have your tongue cut out. There have been rumors of what she has done outside this kingdom, things that are far from proper; still, nobody has been brave enough to validate any of that gossip.
So you tell her your name.
āAnd I presume you are the princessāā¦ā she trails off for a second and you go rigid once more, her gaze sharpens a fraction. āā¦cousin from far, far away?ā
āUm, yes! She has decided to do an impromptu visit because she missed me so. I hope you donāt mind my bringing her, my lady.ā
Lady Romanoff smiles like she knows ā and you have a feeling she does. She simply doesnāt care. After all, she has always danced to her own tune, including how sheās wearing all black tonight that would be typically reserved for funerals.
āNot at all. I hope you enjoy your visit and my ball tonight. I would avoid Lord Smith, heās in desperate search of a wife and may latch on to the one new face who appears unaware of the reputation of his temper.ā Then she laughs.
āFair advice, Lady Romanoff, thank you,ā you murmur.
With one last squeeze of your arm, she brisks away from the two of you. As you follow her movements, you also spot Bucky as he makes his own escape with a few of the gentlemen youāve seen come around the palace. He turns in time to catch your eye, his mouth curling into a smile as he winks at you from the distance, right as he disappears out the door.
āNow, shall we indulge in more treats?ā
Youāve always been a quick study and there are three things that you now understand about the nature of these functions.
The first is to eat your fill ā between the champagne and the specially mulled wines, intoxication is a friendly foe that rears its head far too fast. You have to learn to balance properly.
The second is that the marriage market appears dreary. None of the ladies are interested in the gentlemen, no matter how desperately they try. It appears that the women in the room arenāt too afraid of waiting a tad bit longer if it means they could find the one. This means that the gentlemen are far too preoccupied with harassing the help to keep themselves entertained, not that Lady Romanoff tolerates that behavior; sheās kicked out a number of them already.
Last but not least is that Becca is a social butterfly. While youāve always been familiar with her friendly nature, seeing her out and about like this, crafting budding friendships with every single person in the room, youāre once again reminded of why the two of you were fast friends. Becca has always been more welcoming, conquering all five love languages on top of the three spoken and written ones that sheās already studying. However, following her around, you are also reminded that you are, in fact, not like her and these interactions are beginning to wear you down.
There are only so many ways you can talk about your dress before the discussions start to sound inane.
There are also so many times you can tolerate the way these women look you up and down. What happened to camaraderie? The catty looks are one thing you donāt expect. In your eyes, youāre a nobody who just happened to be playing dress-up thanks to a good friend. However, you can see how you seem from their perspective ā close enough to the princess to attend this ball, apparently attractive enough for the crown prince to steal you for more than a handful of minutes.
You swallow the urge to scream, āIām nothing more than the help!ā
āThe prince does have peculiar taste, doesnāt he?ā One of them comments and you have to resist rolling your eyes, lest you offend her publicly.Ā
āWhat do you mean?ā Becca asks as she nibbles on her third tart of the night.
Expectedly, the girlās eyes flick to you for a brief second before her lips stretch into smirk. āI assumed he would take a wife by now. Have an heir to continue the lineage. However, it doesnāt seem that anyone in this room suits his preferences. He hasnāt asked anyone to dance yet ā and not for a lack of trying from our part.ā
āHe did have one danceāā
You clear your throat to interrupt Becca. She looks at you quizzically.
God bless her heart. Becca means well but sometimes she misses some of these cues; sheās too trusting, which is why you have to be the exact opposite.
āApologies, I meant a dance that would countāā she smiles saccharine sweet. āāthat would matter. Youāre a visiting relative, right?ā This question she directs towards you.
All eyes turn to you. The attention has your cheeks burning. āCorrect.ā
āSheās actually a very dear friend, but sheās practically family. She knows Bucky very well.ā
āIs that so?ā You donāt appreciate the way the womanās gaze flashes with something akin to amusement. āPractically a sister then. I donāt believe I recall where youāre from. I havenāt heard anyone speak of you either.ā
āI didnāt say.ā Your lips twist up in an irritated smile.
Awkward tension falls upon the conversation. Becca looks nervously between the two of you; this cue is far too hard to miss. āThat doesnāt matter! What matters is that we are here now. How about we get some lemonade? Itās quite warm here, isnāt it?ā
As Becca busies herself with resolving the tension, which is the last thing a princess should be doing, you take this opportunity to slip away from the suffocating atmosphere of the room.
Perhaps the garden can be healing this time of night.
Bucky would rather be anywhere else but here. Let him correct himself ā there is exactly one place he would rather be than here and it would be to be back inside. With you. Dancing. Fetching you drinks. Keeping those overly-excited, unworthy vultures away from you.
The moment you stepped through those doors, he knew he was in for a long night of suffering. Time and time again, youāve rejected his advances. He knows you feel the same way, has felt you leaning into his touch before you would pull yourself away. Your stubbornness has always been endearing, but Bucky yearns for the day when he finally breaks through those walls.
Itās not an if, itās a when.
Because Bucky has always achieved everything heās dreamed of and you are his most important one.
However, for now, he is instead subjected to the debauchery of his peers. Dukes, viscounts, and fellow noblemen who have far too much time on their hands to be exploring substances that shouldnāt be explored. Sam is in the midst of lecturing their tight-knit group about this vial he procured while out in the countryside, some fermented liquid that supposedly produces the most vivid, imaginative visions that have you questioning reality.
The others ooh and aah in fascination but Buckyās eyes continue to stray towards those double-doors where you stand on the other side.
āYour royal highness, I have something that may be of interest to you.ā
To that, he does turn with a raised brow.
āI specifically obtained this one for you. I am sympathetic to your causeāā Sam teases and Bucky responds with a withering glare that does nothing to deter his friend. āāand when the time comes and you hope to last, this will be immensely beneficial.ā
āHis cause is hopeless if he doesnāt do anything about it,ā Steve laughs.
āI appreciate your vote of confidence, Rogers. Believe me, itās not for a lack of trying,ā Bucky mutters as he leans back against the stone pillar.
Sam grabs his hand, slips it into his palm and closes his hand around a small tin. āVery potent. I wouldnāt recommend more than a pinchful at a time. A pinchful should last you through an hour, but what a delicious hour it will be.ā
He doesnāt know how to tell him that Bucky doesnāt need this sort of chemistry to make him last. Every time heās near you, his pants tighten like a schoolboy again. Thirteen and realizing that this desire to kiss you isnāt a result of friendship. As he got older, he realized that these urges arenāt those that should be held against his sisterās lady-in-waiting.
Urges that blossomed into far more when he feels his chest constrict, breath stolen from his lungs, whenever he catches a whiff of that perfume. Or how he canāt resist peeking at you from around the corner whenever you sneak into the library, wondering what book has absorbed you this time, how quickly he could read it to spark conversation with you. Or how desperately he tries to make you laugh just to hear that tinkling melody that loops like the nationās best symphony in his mind.
There are days that Bucky wishes he wasnāt born into this family, that he could be normal, so he wouldnāt be forced upon societal standards that he has no desire to follow. He could pursue you and you wouldnāt constantly put this chasm between you.
But then if he hadnāt been born into this life, then he wouldāve never met you. He would have never known what it means for love to consume his very soul, how one person could mean the world to him, to a point where he would give it all up ā the riches, the rule ā to be with you.
Fate is a funny thing.
āI donāt need this, Wilson,ā Bucky grunts as he tries to push it back into Samās hands.
Sam raises them. āNo, sir. Think of it as an early coronation gift. Perhaps once you can change the rules of the kingdom, you would be inclined to follow them too.ā
āThink heās a jester,ā he mutters to Steve with a roll of his eyes.
āIn another life, my prince, perhaps in another life,ā Sam grins cheekily. āYou simply have to breathe it in. Like the usual stuff. Again, very powerful so be careful. Otherwise, youād be trapped in that state for hours on end and your only relief would be toā¦ā
Buckyās eyes rise to meet his. Sam only wiggles his eyebrows in response. He makes a face of repulsion. āThatās how you rid yourself of the effects?ā
āThe more you finish, the lighter the effects will be. However, if you donāt find any form ofā¦ relief, then it could last for hours and youād be hurting everywhere ā and I do mean everywhere. Itās the strongest form of desire that can be relieved if you fulfill it.ā
Bucky looks down at the tin again. Unassuming. Small. How powerful could this little thing be? He tucks it inside his coat, if only to appease his friend, and lets them resume with the conversation.
By the time they adjourn, Bucky is sufficiently exhausted. All he wants is to go search for you. Itās only been an hour and he already misses you. What a fool he is ā if only the kingdom knew that the crown princeās only weakness is a woman who doesnāt even want him.
As the other men filter back indoors, Bucky moves to follow. That is, until your perfume tickles his senses. Youāre outside. He whips around to try and find you but youāre nowhere in sight.
Perhaps this is his chance. The two of you would be in Lady Romanoffās prized garden, far away from the prying eyes of the palace or the rest of the ton. He looks at Steve and Sam, waves them away. āGo on. Iāll enjoy the fresh air a little bit more.ā
āAlright, donāt look too thrilled that all those women inside are waiting for their prince to return.ā
Bucky winces. Of course, heās felt their hungry gazes all night. All of them practically vibrating where theyāre standing, fanning themselves a little faster, batting their eyelashes a little more rapidly. He has zero inclination to humor any of them because the one person he wants to dance with is the one who wonāt even look at him.
With one final gesture, he begins to prowl further into the grounds, further away from the mansion, to find you.
Little does he know that the tiny tin rattles like a cry against his chest, lid loose as he walks at a pace thatās far from careful.
After exploring the gardens for a bit, you almost wish that Lady Romanoff would adopt you under her wing to understand her excellent taste in design and decoration. The architecture is as old as time. Each brick feels intentionally placed like itās meant to be part of history. The stream that sits quietly further away from the palace brings a touch of natural life to the otherwise manmade masterpiece.
A boat sits swaying in the gentle evening breeze and youāre half tempted to paddle yourself out to the middle to find some form of peace. However, given how deep it is into nightfall, you assume youād have to eventually make your way back to find Becca. Sheās promised not to touch another drop of champagne for the evening so you trust her to make good decisions.
Just as you turn to begin your journey back to the mansion, the last person you expect is standing before you.
āBucky, what are you doing here?ā
In the darkness, he stumbles towards you, mumbling incoherently. You strain your ears to decipher him but itās near impossible when his words blur together. Heās clearly intoxicated. You wonder how much liquor Steve and Sam have fed him and lord knows what else.
When he finally stands where the moonlight shines across the concrete, you see the flush that sprawls like an illness across his skin. His breathing is labored and his fingers continue to tug at the collar of his shirt, clawing almost desperately. With his mask long gone, you can see how his pupils are blown wide as they drink in the sight of you, a mix of relief and desire in the constantly shifting shades of his ocean eyes.Ā
He breathes out your name like a prayer when he sees you. āGods, you lookā¦ā he trails off again as he moves towards you, walking side to side as if his legs canāt bear the weight of him.
You catch him before he can topple over, his entire body draped over yours. You thank the heavens that youāve done enough manual labor in your life that youāre able to prop him up, pushing him up against the wall. Your hands on his shoulders as you frown at him.
He doesnāt smell too heavily of liquor but there are strange particles on his coat that you suspect are the reason why heās behaving like this. You bite back the urge to scold the crown prince of all people to be more responsible. When you look up at him, heās looking down at you with a lazy smirk.
āBucky, what did you take?ā
āYāsmellā¦ā he leans forward again, nearly tipping over but his nose ends up buried in your neck. You feel him inhale, deep, before a long, extremely indecorous moan rumbles against your skin. Heat slithers up your spine, pushing your blood south between your legs. āFuck, you smell so good.ā
Biting your tongue, you try to push him back against the wall but heās faster. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against his chest as his mouth trails warm against your skin. He whispers your name again ā like a promise. āBucky, please, I canāt help you like this.ā
āNeedāā he chokes then, whimpering.
āWhat do you need? Tell me.ā
āYou.ā
You stroke his hair gently as he continues to mumble words you cannot hear against the pulse in your neck. āI know, Iām here. Tell me what you need.ā Worry torments your heart as you press the back of your hand against his forehead. āHeavens, youāre burning up.ā
āSo hot,ā he whines, āso, so warm.ā
Without removing himself from you, he begins to shed off his tailcoat first, casting it aside. Then his fingers reach for the buttons of his waistcoat, fingers seemingly too uncoordinated to undo them.
āPlease. Help,ā he pleads.
How can you say no when he asks so sweetly? But at the same time, you really shouldnāt be doing this. āBucky, this isnāt a good idea. I donāt think you shouldāā
āHelp me.ā
Gods, youāve never been good at saying no to this man, not when he sounds like heās in pain. Your gloved hands reach towards him as you begin to unbutton him slowly, revealing more and more of the linen underneath. Then Bucky pushes it off his shoulders.
āMy shirt next.ā
āBucky!ā you gasp, āThatās completely out of the question. I couldnāt possibly.ā
āItās so warm, mon couer. Please.ā
Heās never played a fair game, but particularly when he addresses you so charmingly in French. You remember when he first started calling you those terms, practicing the foreign language on his tongue in a way that had you leaning in to listen for more. You asked him what they meant, and he said, āOnly the truth.ā
My love. My heart. Your heart feels like itās been lit on fire when you read the translations.
You never questioned it further. Becca always took it as teasing, like Buckyās being his usual charismatic, mischievous self. But every time he calls you that, you know that it is the truth. A truth you keep contesting for the sanctity of your mind.
Because if you accept that you are his love and that you are his heart, you donāt know how much of your resolve would be left.
And Bucky deserves more than that. He deserves the world, which he already has. You canāt be the reason that he loses all of it.
āWe should head back. Beccaās going to be wondering where we are.ā
āBecca can be patient,ā he murmurs as he finally finds the strength to rip his shirt open, the buttons flying off as the fabric is torn off his body, leaving him bare in front of you. His abdomen ripples with the kind of muscles that come from the hours spent training, the hours you spent watching him practice.Ā
Saliva pools on your tongue and you feel like a dog taught to drool at the sight of its master. Youāve seen him shirtless before, of course ā god knows the man loves to be fully exposed to the sun in seasons like this. However, something about him is different this time. Heās practically soaked through his shirt, his body glows with a sheen layer of sweat.Ā
āYou have a fever, Bucky. You need help.ā
āNeed you,ā he repeats, clearer this time. His brows then meet in the middle as he looks down at you. He tugs the mask off your face, letting it drop to the floor as he searches your eyes. Deep blue, bluer than the summer sky. āThere you are,ā he says softly.
Your heart stutters as you shy away from his gaze, his fingers catching your chin to tilt you to face him again. His eyes fall to your lips, your lips separate, sticky with whatever Becca had swiped onto you earlier.
Then he slants his lips over yours and you feel the fireworks explode inside your chest. Buckyās moan spills down your throat as he kisses you deeper, harder. Ravenous is the only way you can describe it. Heās chasing after your lips like youāre the last drop of water for a parched man. He breathes the air from your lungs, an intimate exchange that has noises youāve only made in the quiet of your room ā alone ā rising from your stomach.
Itās everything youāve ever imagined, and so much more. You spent nights picturing what this could feel like in painstaking detail, hoping that it may happen one day ā in the slightest of chances.
But then that anxiety seeps back in, creeping under your skin enough to wake you from this dream.Ā
āBuckyāā He kisses you again, quashing whatever rational thought youāve only just begun to formulate.
āTastes so sweet, even better than I thought,ā he murmurs. āSo sweet, my love. Gods, I could kiss you for days and Iād never tire of it.ā
āWe shouldnātāā Your protest once again dies in your throat as Bucky begins to kiss along your jaw, placing a wet trail of fire as he mouths down your neck, counting your racing heartbeat. Your palms flatten against his chest, damp and humid. Heās sweating bullets but you donāt get the chance to interrupt again.
āI need you,ā he groans, ālord, I need you.ā His fingers catch your hand and press it against his chest. Your heart pushes against your ribs. āYou smell so good. I canāt stop thinking about you. Thinking about what it would be like to kneel at your feet, your leg over my shoulder, and bury my face in that pretty pussy of yours.ā
A gasp wrenches from your throat as you jerk back. āBucky, that isāĀ oh my god, that is unacceptable!ā
āItās the truth,ā he growls, āI can practically smell you between your legs, your sweetness on my tongue. I want you to press your hips against my face and let me feast like a king. Slip my fingers in there and feel how you resist me, how you act like you donāt want this but youāre dripping all over my fingers.āĀ
The moan that climbs out your chest is involuntary and itās all Bucky needs before heās flipping you around and heās pressing your back against the pillar. A gust of wind blows, providing some semblance of reprieve to the sudden sweltering heat that blankets you. It does nothing to soothe Bucky who looks at you like youāre the perfect prey, skin exposed to him with your hair twisted up like the forbidden fruit.Ā
Bucky isn't a godless man, but in that moment he swears there isn't a higher power who could stop him from having you.
He silently asks the heavens to turn their gaze away from the sin he's about to commit. Because whatever happens next, he won't be seeking forgiveness.
He will only offer his thanks.
He kisses you again, tongue slipping past your lips just as he swallows your surprised sound. His tongue strokes against yours, licking up and pressing against it until youāre trembling against him.Ā
You no longer have authority over your body, how every ounce of energy dissolves into thin air against him, knees nearly sending you crumbling to the ground if it werenāt for his own strength holding you up. One of his hands is ont he back of your neck, keeping you close, and the other on your hip. His mouth continues to move against you as if heās savoring every inch of you.
Distracted by the taste of him and his seemingly contagious fever, you barely realize when Bucky peels back layer upon layer of your eveningwear. The weight of the fabric pools around your feet with a soft thump. His fingers are frantic as he pushes each piece off your shoulders, leaving you only in your shift and your stay. The corset is tight around your body and Bucky snarls to himself when he canāt seem to untangle the loops.Ā
Then you hear it, the sound similar to clicking tongues as Bucky tears it off your body. When the haze clears just enough for you to realize whatās been done, you shove him away from you, but your power doesnāt throw him very far.
āBucky, this is indecent. I canāt beāā
āWeāre too far past decency, my love.ā He stalks back towards you, capturing your lips in a languid kiss that eviscerates your objections into ash. āBeautiful. You had the eyes of everyone in that room tonight. I loathed seeing you surrounded by all those men earlier. Undeserving creatures who think that they have an opportunity with you.ā
āIāI wasnāt interested in any of them,ā you whine as he works his way down your neck, teeth and lips marking slow, deliberate claims against your skin. Ones that spell out mine.
āI know,ā he murmurs against your pulse, smiling as if the answer was never in doubt. āYou donāt need to fret. Youāre mine. I wouldnāt let them near you. I wouldnāt even allow you to look their way.ā
His mouth drags lightly over your skin again. Unhurried, certain.
āOnly me. Always me.ā
Itās not a question, nor an order. Heās stating a fact. For as long as you can remember, regardless of how many handsome bachelors walk through the palace doors ā or even through the staff entrance, you havenāt spared any of them a second glance. Your heart and eyes have always belonged to him.Ā
Bucky takes your hand and gently removes your gloves. He brings your hand up to his lips, placing one gentle kiss after another. First on your wrist, then up your forearm, to your bicep, until heās on your shoulder. He moves this final layer to the side just enough for him to press wet kisses on your collarbones.Ā Ā
However, despite his attempts to divert your attention away from the actual matter at hand, you canāt help but worry. His temperature is a far cry from normal, you fear what would happen if he werenāt observed and provided the necessary remedies.Ā
āYouāre sick, Bucky. Please let me take you back to the palace. Let me fetch your carriage so we can at least summon the royal physician to assess you.ā
āNo, wonāt help,ā he grunts, āneed toā need toāā and the next word that slips from his lips has your heart slamming against your ribcageā āfuck.ā
Your mouth dries and your own desires begin to overwhelm you. This isnāt right. Heās not himself. Heās not in his right mind. What he needs is a doctor and a bed andā
āSam said,ā he exhales harshly, āI need to get it out. To stop this.ā
āGet what out?ā
āNeed to finish.ā
Finish. Fuck. Your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper.Ā
He needs to climax.Ā
āDonāt think Iāll be satisfied with finishing once,ā he huffs honestly as his hands reach up to cup your breasts. He lets out a little pleased noise as he feels up your soft flesh, the shape of your breasts molding to his hand as he massages them. With only one barrier left between the two of you, it feels as if thereās nothing at all there. āMy gorgeous girl with her gorgeous tits. I always knew youād fit so perfectly in my hands. You donāt know how many times Iāve dreamt of this, putting my hands on them, pinching these lovely pert nipplesāā he moans as he tugs on your nipple, electricity coursing through you in a zing straight down to your core. āHow it would feel to have my cock tucked in between your tits.āĀ
You donāt have the voice to argue, nor the mind. All you can think about is how delicious it feels for Bucky to be touching you. Your head leans back as your eyes slide shut, your mind lost in the sensations of his touch.Ā
āPlease, let me have you, my love. I needā I need you.ā
His hand doesnāt wait for an answer, they begin to bunch up your skirt, pinning them against your hip with his wrist as his fingers trail up your inner thigh. You fight against your shudder and he lifts his mouth back to your lips to kiss you, just as his fingertips make contact with your core.
Youāre sticky down there already, a mess from the proximity and his scent and his feverish warmth. This is still Bucky ā your Bucky ā but heās also different, like all of the chains that have held him back, that have granted him the patience all these years, have been shattered. This is the result of all the times youāve rejected him again and again and again. All of the times that you have rejected these feelings within yourself.
Now the dam has been destroyed and all those times youāve swallowed your pride and your wants, theyāre finally being released and they completely drown you.
The moon reflects off the water, illuminating Buckyās face in a shifting series of ethereal colors. Even with the glimmer, his eyes are dark. A fog clouding his judgment. His desire is unwavering. The more you touch him, the more you let him touch you, the stronger the effects of his fever.Ā
If possible, he grows even warmer. His skin practically searing against yours but nothing burns more than his fingers between your legs, the delicate stroke of your lips, moist with the evidence of your lust.Ā
āYouāre drenched down here, my sweet girl,ā Bucky moans, āis this all for me? Were you thinking of me the same way I was thinking of you?ā
āBucky, please,ā you jolt, hips rising when he dips a tentative finger inside you.Ā
Itās almost embarrassing how easily he slips himself in there, aided by the slick between your legs. He pushes a finger in as he gulps down your pleasured sound, a desperate little cry as his fingers stretch out your insides.Ā
Youāve never had anyone else touch you like this. Youāve barely even touched yourself like this; even when left to your own devices with nothing more than your imagination and the lingering scent of Buckyās cologne on your threads, shame still restricts how much pleasure you allow yourself.
However, out there, with Bucky in control, you relinquish that power to him. You let him determine how much pleasure you experience, how much gratification you can get under his ministrations.
Buckyās fingers are skilled as they work you open, scissoring you open until your teeth sink into his shoulder. āMy pretty girl, look at you. I want to hear you cry for me, want to know how good I make you feel.ā
Obediently, your lips split open in a wail that shakes the air.Ā
āLet me have a taste of you,ā he murmurs and draws his hand away from you. The loss is almost instantaneous, a sudden chill where his touch had been, but itās replaced by the fire that burns bright in your gut the moment he drags his wet fingers along his lips. He breathes it in like heās memorizing the scent of you before he slides his fingers over his tongue. āGod, youāre perfect. Sweet, as I expected.ā
Then Bucky sinks to the ground and thereās something about the crown prince on his knees before you that has you faltering. Someone whose blood is bluer than the ocean shouldnāt risk scraping his knees for a mere maid ā and yet here he is.Ā
āHold your skirt up for me, sweet girl.āĀ
You want to protest. You want to say no. You want to remind him again that this isnāt a good idea but thereās determination in his eyes that have you whimpering, fingers reaching for the hem of your skirt to reveal yourself to him.Ā
Bucky drags a finger along your slit again, collecting the moisture and wiping it on his tongue with another moan. He leans forward and your eyes slide shut, heart thrumming in anticipation with the steady pulse in your veins. He kisses you slowly at first, making his way up your thigh but his patience is thin and soon enough heās burying his face between your legs.
His tongue strokes up your pussy, legs still clamped shut in your apprehension. Bucky looks a little irritated when he canāt seem to properly taste you so, with one hand, he holds one of your legs up by the thigh and opens up your leaking cunt to him. He curses under his breath when he sees you glisten in the flickering night.Ā
The stars in the sky blend in with the ones behind your eyes when he finally lays his lips on you. He mouths at you hungrily, like heās wolfing down his last meal. His tongue presses eager strokes along your walls that have your legs closing in around him again ā only for his hand to pry them open once more to grant him access to the nectar between your thighs.Ā
āSo sweet, so soft,ā Bucky groans against your pussy. His lips suckle eagerly, the lewd slurps ricocheting off the surfaces in this quiet night. In the distance, the music continues quietly, but here ā youāre accompanied by the sound of your quickening heartbeat and Buckyās delighted grunts.
Each time he licks you, he buries himself deeper and deeper, until his nose bumps against your clit and his face glistens with your arousal. Your fingers tangle in his thick hair, damp with the sweat from his fever. When you tug on it slightly, Bucky sticks his face in even deeper, moans even louder.Ā
You can see how his erection only grows underneath his trousers, needy for attention, and yet satisfied all the same by your own pleasure. He tilts his face to reach new angles, his fingers pushing inside of you to keep you full while his tongue flicks that sensitive bundle of nerves.
It doesnāt take you long fall apart, walls closing in around his tongue and his fingers, spasming with your orgasm ā the first of the evening.
For a moment, guilt enters your system and youāre forced to look down at Bucky remorsefully that he didnāt even achieve what he set out to do. However, you notice the shaking of his shoulders, a shudder wracking through him as his hips twitch upwards. A pulse down there.Ā
āY-you finished?āĀ
Bucky nods, unabashed as he comes to a stand. āDo you see what you do to me? Cumming untouched in my trousers like a prepubescent boy who canāt even control himself.ā
āI didnātā I mean, you didnāt even touch it.ā
āThe mere thought of you finishing around my mouth like Iāve always dreamed is enough for me, my love.ā He tucks a loose strand of your hair, one that have fallen loose from your updo, behind your ear. āHowever, Iām far from done. This fever ā I canāt break it without you. I have to have you.ā
Again, he doesnāt wait for your permission as he steals the air from your lungs with a passionate kiss. This time, you can taste the sweetness of champagne on his tongue along with something a little more unique. Something that belongs solely to you and now also belongs to him.Ā
āIāve been leaking for you all night, sweet girl,ā Bucky mumbles, āI couldnāt stop thinking what you look like underneath this dress. How soft and supple your body would be. Apparently, everyone else had the same thought. I could see how they looked at you. I should have them all stripped of their titles and banished from the land.ā
āBucky,ā you chide, warmth flaming your cheeks. āThat would be incredibly rude. Nobody did anything.ā
He rolls his eyes as he presses you back against the pillar, reaching down to his pants. You hear the fabric shifting as he holds you up and frees himself. Youāve never seen one in real life before, only those diagrams that Becca likes to tease you with.Ā
And the real thing looks far more intimidating.
It stands upright, a thick vein running along the top as the head strains red. It looks almost as if that line pulses, encouraged by the purplish lines that sit underneath the surface. A new pearl sits at the tip of him, pearlescent as it rolls down the length of his cock, already sticky and stained creamy white from the mess in his trousers. Itās fat and itās long and you canāt imagine that fitting inside you.Ā
You mustāve voiced your fears aloud because Bucky is then saying, āDonāt worry, mon couer. Weāll make it fit.āĀ
He lifts you up, drawing a squeal from your lips, as he wraps your legs around his waist. The head rests against your entrance, the sight of it already has your pussy drooling over the tip, like itās preparing for his cock.Ā
āSheās excited to have me,ā he muses quietly, āsheās dripping. So eager to have me. You havenāt been filled before, have you? Youāve never had another man touch you?ā
You mustāve taken a moment too long to respond, too preoccupied with the incredulity of the situation.
The low roar sounding from Buckyās chest has you looking at him. Fury claws at his eyes, the usual bright blue shifting darker as he sneers. His hands tighten around your hips. āHas anyone else touched you? Who is it? Is it the stableboy? Iāve seen the way he looks at you. Iāve been meaning to replace himāā
āBucky, god, no. Nobody!ā You pant, āWhere would I find the time?ā
āYou wouldnāt lie to me, would you? I know your good heart would want to protect them.ā
Your lips curl. āNo, I would have no reason to lie to you.Ā
āGood, because I fear the dire action I wouldāve had to take if you told me otherwise.āĀ
āIām not yours to own, Bucky,ā you snap.
āThatās where youāre wrong, sweet girl. Youāve always belonged to me, whether you knew it or not. Youāre mine and Iāll kill anyone who even dares to think about you.ā Another surprised sound escapes your lips and Bucky only smirks. āThis pussy especially. Iāll shape it to the size of me, you wonāt ever know pleasure with anyone else. Iāll train her to only please me and only me.āĀ
Before you can admonish him for acting so barbaric, Bucky notches the tip into you. You can already feel the stretch, your pussy resisting the entry of something soā¦ large. So imposing. But he pays it no mind; instead, he uses your own juices to lubricate his entry as he pushes slowly into you, inch by inch.Ā
He drives deep inside of you, swift and merciless the first time, to yank a gasp from your throat. Another expletive leaves his lips as his head rolls back, eyes slamming closed as he relishes in the feel of your cunt wrapping around him.Ā
Your entire body is under a spell, experiencing something otherworldly that no language you know could describe. It burns like youāve been placed on a stake to be set ablaze, like every atom in your body is being torn apart and rearranged. Itās divine deliverance in the pain, but one that provides you with the kind of relief you donāt expect.Ā
āYou feel soāā he chokes as he drags himself out before pushing back in, faster this time, the slide easier. The ache still screams between your legs but you let them fall apart anyway, allowing Bucky to take control over the situation.Ā
His name falls from your lips ā this time as a plea, but you canāt tell if youāre begging for him to stop or to go faster. You want to get past the hurt, want to feel the sort of pleasure that youāve only heard whispers about. But at the same time, a small piece of you relishes in that pain ā it reminds you that youāre human, that this is new, that this is real, and that Bucky is right here with you.
āSo tight, so fucking wet. Youāre completely soaking my cock, sweet girl. I always knew you were meant for me, this pussy was made for me. No one else can ever see you like this, do you understand me?ā
Bucky jerks his hips forward, his arms under your knees, hands on your ass as he presses you against the wall. The surface is solid against your spine, holding you upright as he fucks up into you. His grunts are muffled into your neck as he breathes you in, like your scent fuels the fire in his veins.Ā
When you donāt respond, too drunk off the sensations of Bucky driving into you at a pace that has you delirious, he punctuates one thrust particularly hard.
āI asked, do you understand me?ā
A sob crawls out of your throat as you nod, tears leaking down your eyes. He doesnāt apologize for your cries, he knows you better than that. These tears are from the overwhelming waves of emotion, the heightened tension that grips your lungs until you canāt seem to find the capability to breathe.Ā
āYou feel like heaven, my love. Iāll fuck you to the shape of my cock, until you canāt take anyone else but me ā until you wonāt even consider taking anyone else. Iāll ensure everyone in this kingdom knows that Iāve defiled you, that youāve taken my mark on your skin and inside of you. Iāll ensure that you will only be mine.āĀ
The shame settles hard and fast in the pits of your stomach. If everyone could see you like this, pinned outside against a wall by the prince, fucked like a whore in heat with your pussy clamping down around him, you could never show your face again. A desecrated maid who couldnāt keep her legs shut for a prince.Ā
Anyone would be lucky to have him, but no one in their right mind would let even the crown prince take them before marriage. They would rather die than be labeled a slut. A harlot. You would be the bane of your family, no one would speak of you again and you would be banished to the outerlands.Ā
But this is Bucky and even the concept of him keeping you as his dirty little secret only sends thrills through your veins.Ā
āBucky, you canātāā
He laughs, dark and sinister. Like the idea of him unable, unallowed to do anything is absurd. āIām the crown prince, sweet girl. I am the future of this kingdom. What I say goes. If I say you are mine then it is true. No one will come within a foot of you. Not after Iām done with you. Iāll make sure everyone sees the marks of my affection for you. Iāll imprint them in places everyone can see and other places that nobody will ever see.āĀ
His words have your heart clenching in mortification and a humiliating level of arousal. The debasement of your character, the degradation of your morality ā apparently none of it means anything if it means you have Bucky between your legs and his cock buried deep inside your cunt.Ā
āIāve laid my claim on you. No one else will ever touch you. Youāā thrust āāareāā thrust āāmine.āĀ
Staying true to his promise, his fingers dig deep into your flesh. Deep enough that youāll surely carry those bruises with you for some time. The litter of prints on your neck and above your breasts will have to be covered by your high necklines, gowns that would only raise suspicion in the summer.Ā
But most of all ā the taking of your virginity, your purity plucked from your hands and placed into Buckyās ā is the kind of mark you will never undo.Ā
Bucky is too lost in his own pleasure, too focused on delivering you to your second peak of the night to recognize the telltale signs of your climax approaching. Your whines crescendoing, the stutter of your heartbeat as your fingers sink into his shoulders. His name spilling from your mouth in an uneven rhythm.Ā
āI will cum in you, sweet girl. Iāll fill you up with so much cum, Iāll have you dripping all the way home, Iāll make sure youāre leaking all over the carriage before I take you again in my chambers. Gods, Iāll tie you to my bed, make sure that youāll never deny me again.ā
Your heart smashes into your chest, threatening to catapult out with his warning. For some godforsaken reason, the idea of being Buckyās plaything ā tied up with no other purpose than to serve his pleasure ā has you gasping in desire, your legs closing in around him as you feel your senseless craving crescendo.Ā
āYou want that, donāt you? You just want to be my pussy. Keep your legs open, this pretty cunt dripping yours and my cum all over my sheets. My darling girl is nothing but a whore who wants cock to keep her plugged up at all times. You wonāt have to worry about a thing ever again.ā
āBucky, pleaseāā
āIāll breed you until you carry my heir.ā
That jars you awake and youāre scrambling, a conflicting concoction of pure, unadulterated want with the terrifying fear of the consequences to follow. āYou canāt! Bucky, you have to stop. You canāt get meāā you hiccup, āāyou canāt get me pregnant. Your heir has to come from a proper bloodline.ā
āI no longer care about propriety and bloodlines. They have kept us apart long enough. Iām the crown prince and, what I want, I get. What I want is you and you alone. Why would I need some uptight, prissy noblewoman who doesnāt know how to cum around her husbandās cock?āĀ
āBucky!ā You gasp as he fucks you hard and fast. His pace is unrelenting and every slide of his cock inside you scrambles every single sensible thought in your mind.Ā
āAnd I have you ā I can feel your pussy choking me. You ā while youāre getting fucked outside with the risk of someone finding us. Yet, look at that, youāre squeezing me even tighter, my love. I always knew you were made for me. Every inch of my depravity, you take it even further. You complete me.ā
Your stomach coils with something deep and tight, an unknown force set out to subject you to the strongest cut of humiliating pleasure. As a proper woman, you shouldnāt take such words, even from a prince. You shouldnāt stoop so low as to attain this form of high.Ā
However, your mind and your body and your heart do not align. While your rational mind screams at you to put a stop to this, your adoration for Bucky ā now forced to surface after years of stomping on it and swallowing it with guilt ā and your pure primal need ā what many consider to be your purpose ā join and meld to push you to keep going.
To chase after this sought-after pleasure that few can even dream about. If the cost of is to reduce your dignity and pride, then so be it.
āAnd now, I will complete you,ā Bucky murmurs sweetly before he shoves himself inside you over and over again until youāre a weeping mess, your legs quaking as your body slides up against the wall with every thrust. Tears leak down your face, destroying Beccaās efforts to make you look beyond yourself.Ā
But all that physical destruction is worth it when your insides are being remade.Ā
With one final thrust, Bucky spills inside you. Warmth coating every part of your walls, thick, clinging onto your skin like itās marking you with a permanent mess. Your second climax twists inside your gut, rising up to your chest to constrict your lungs as your pussy curls tight around him. His need to complete you is complemented by your own need for the same. Your walls keep him in, trapped, until every single drop is milked from his cock and buried deep inside your cunt.Ā
Bucky doesnāt let up, he fucks into you until heās groaning sensitive against your neck. His breathing is even hotter than before, each exhale like a furnace in the middle of the desert.Ā
āIām not done with you yet.ā
Those words no longer spark fear, but zealous anticipation.Ā
Then Bucky takes you again ā you on your feet, him behind you as he fucks you against the wall, your breasts in his hands to hold him steady as he cums into you again, the milky white seeping out from where you two are joined. But then he misses your face too much so he grabs your chin, turns you to face him, and devours you in a messy kiss that has your teeth clicking almost painfully.Ā
Then he has you laid out over his clothes, your back on the floor, your knees and thighs against your torso, as he fucks deep inside you, promising you that itāll take this time. That heāll try as many times as he needs to until his seed takes.Ā
Then youāre on your hands and knees as Bucky pounds into you from behind, his thighs slapping against yours, his fingers reaching around to your clit in intentional circles that have your body quivering underneath him, and he doesnāt stop until youāre cumming around his cock and heās filling you up with another load.Ā
Then youāre cleaning him up, the taste of his cum and your pussy a more potent substance than all the liquor in the nation combined. The thick liquid spurts down your throat like youāre being fed your dessert, a treat for having done so well.
And again and again and again.Ā
For a while, you forget that Bucky is relentless only due to the poison in his veins, his depraved hunger only exacerbated by the delicious textures of your cunt around his cock. An addiction that he could never suppress.Ā
When both your limbs finally give and enough of the toxins have been excreted ā inside you, mind you, the two of you slump down on top of both your clothes. A mess of damp fabrics and fluids that even the best solvents in the kingdom could never remove.Ā
Bucky turns over to you with a groan ā the same sound thatās been rattling inside your mind, the same sound that will surely affix to every crevice inside your brain for weeks, if not months ā and slumps an arm over your waist.Ā
He nuzzles his face against your cheek, a small chuckle tickling your face. He hums, pleasantly exhausted. Youāre a disarray of tangled limbs and gummy skin. You canāt help but laugh too.Ā
āWhy are you laughing?ā He smiles, leaning down to press a kiss on your bare shoulder. Somewhere along the way, youāve stripped yourself of your final layer too, leaving you completely nude.Ā
The circumstances are far from believable. If you had told yourself that this was how your night would end, even your wildest imagination couldnāt have conjured up this conclusion. āI canāt believe weāre doing this in the middle of Lady Romanoffās ball.ā
āShe would skin us alive if she knew,ā he smirks.Ā
āYes, she would.ā
The third, unexpected voice has the two of you jumping, your fingers immediately reach for more clothes to cover you up, at the same time Bucky also drapes his jacket over your body.Ā
Lady Romanoff stands closer towards the land, where the water doesnāt extend. She then approaches, oil lamp in hand. You canāt unriddle whether her expression is contemptuous disgust or unpredicted amusement.Ā
Meanwhile, the two of you are still clad in nearly nothing, only the moonlight to cast shadows that cloak you.
āLady Romanoff, I apologize profusely. We didnāt mean any disrespectāā
Buckyās quick to interject. āIt was entirely my fault. I have been subjected toā¦ urges that were outside my control. It was a substance, you see.ā
His words have your heart palpitating in an uneven rhythm. The words land unexpected sharp, like a piercing wound straight through your beating organ.Ā
Urges that were outside my control.Ā
This was never meant to happen. You and Bucky. This night. All of it is a fever dream. A product of your desires catalyzed by a chemical compound. Bucky never wouldāve done it otherwise; the two of you have always run in parallel lines, never meant to intersect.Ā
All of his words ā sweet nothings.Ā
Just like this evening.Ā
āIām fully aware of the substance you speak of, I am frankly surprised that you would be so careless as to consume it at such a public place, your royal highness,ā Lady Romanoff muses.
Bucky winces, scratching the back of his ear awkwardly. āI stumbled and the container had been loose. Unfortunately, I was forced to consume nearly all of it ā at least, what didnāt end up on my clothing.āĀ
Lady Romanoff only hums thoughtfully. āIf I remember correctly, the aftermath to this substance would be a deep sleep. Rather fast, Iām afraid.ā This time, she turns to look at you. āI shall set up a room for the two of you ā you can enter through the back. Most of my regular staff is gone and Iāll arrange for my lady-in-waiting to prepare it. She is most discreet.āĀ
āWe canāā Bucky stops then, seeming caught off guard by the sudden dizzying spell. He sways slightly, words slurring together in a jumbled mess before he falls against you. His breathing even.Ā
āIt appears my memory serves me well,ā she says, voice tinged with unexpected pride. āCome, my dear.āĀ
As promised, most of the party has dwindled down to a few inebriated guests that Lady Romanoff organizes to be delivered home in their respective carriages. You and Bucky have been set up in a wing far from the prying eyes, this is where theyāve restricted most of Lady Romanoffās staff, only the trusted are allowed.Ā
Her lady-in-waiting and her most trusted butler had been sent to help carry Bucky back ā of course, after you properly dress him. No explanation was provided beyond the crown prince getting āill from the foodā, but you assume that they suspect something else is at play, particularly when you yourself look like youāve been mauled by a wild beast.Ā
After Bucky has been settled into his room and youāve been provided your own as a guest, which you insisted against, but Lady Romanoff insisted against your insistence, her staff is sent away. Bucky snores quietly on the bed, heās been in and out. He was somewhat awake long enough to help the butler walk him back into the mansion, enough to plop himself down on the mattress.
Your heart is uneasy with worry but Lady Romanoff touches your shoulder. āHe should be fine. He has most of it out of his system, I presume?ā She cocks an eyebrow. Heat crawls up your neck as you nod. āThen he will recover by morning. He may be weary for a while but heās in good hands.ā
āThank you for your generosity, Lady Romanoff,ā you murmur, āI do apologize for the inconvenience and myā¦ impudence.ā
āNo apologies needed. I spoke to Wilson and heās received an earful from me about bringing untested substances ā in unsealed containers, at that.ā She pauses then turns to you, āYouāve been quite the kindā¦ relative, for a distant one.ā
She knows. You know that she knows. She knows that you know that she knows.Ā
This is a mess.Ā
āYes, Iām rather used to caring for him,ā you clear your throat, and then realize what youāve just said. āIn a way where heās almost like my brother. We grew up together.ā And that one isnāt a lie per se.
āIām sure,ā she says with a twinkle in her eye. āWell, take my words with a grain of salt, but I would like to ask you to proceed with caution. You seem to be a smart woman, Iāve seen you with Becca, how you manage to fit right in with society. While I am a romantic at heart, I am also a realist ā and the truth is that the challenge will lie with you. As the crown prince, he will be untouched. Unharmed. The realm will protect him before it will protect a woman.ā
āI understand that,ā you nearly sigh, glancing back at Bucky.Ā
Itās what youāve always known ā your position in society. Itās why you never accepted Buckyās advances, nor your own feelings regarding him. Itās easier to pretend that it doesnāt exist, that you arenāt in love with the crown prince as a mere maid ā even if it hurts.Ā
āBut his royal highness is also a good man. Iām sure he will choose wisely,ā Lady Romanoff smiles. āNow, please rest. I will arrange for separate carriages to deliver you both home in the morning.ā
āI should return nowāā
āWhat you should do is rest,ā she presses with a pointed look. āFurthermore, I believe he could use some tending to tonight ā in case he wakes or hasā¦ remaining urges.ā
Sheās teasing you, and itās working because your face feels like itās been trapped in a heatwave all day. āIāll make sure he gets through the night and will depart first thing in the morning. I wouldnāt want to inconvenience you any further.ā
āNo inconvenience. This has perhaps been the most entertaining occurrence this season.ā Her eyes are practically twinkling in delight.Ā
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. āLady Romanoff, please forgive me for overstepping, but if I could ask for your discretion regarding this matterāā
She waves you off with a reassuring smile. āYou need not ask. I understand the position you are in and I would never trouble another woman more than necessary. I also would not enjoy making an enemy out of the palace and I doubt the crown prince would let things slide if anything were to happen to his precious lover.ā
Your mouth opens to correct her, she gives you a look that tells you not to even attempt to lie to her. You technically wouldnāt be fibbing.Ā
After all, it was only his urges that allowed him to do such things to you tonight. At the end of the day, youāre still nothing more than a maid ā a member of the royal staff. A lover is what you are not.Ā
āHave a good evening, dear.ā
āYou as well, Lady Romanoff.ā
Once she leaves the room, you go to check on Bucky one last time before you move to your own room; it is an adjacent space, connected by a door should you need access to his room. That distance, while small, still feels much too large.Ā
You pull the blanket up higher on his waist, brush the wet strands away from his face as you check his temperature again. His fever has come down plenty, heās at least broken through it and now heās simply sweating out the rest.Ā
With that, you pull your hand away and ready yourself to move to your own room.Ā
Except, you donāt get the chance, not when you feel those familiar fingers wrap around your hand before you could move. You whirl around to find Bucky drowsily looking up at you. His eyes glow in the moonlight spilling through the massive windows.Ā
āStay,ā he murmurs.
āYour royal highness, I should return to the chambers Lady Romanoff has provided. If the staff were to return, I wouldnāt want to have to explain the circumstances.ā
āHow many times have I told you not to call me that?ā He says, but thereās no bite to his words, only affection.
You swallow thickly, chancing another look at your door.
āStay,ā he insists again, āplease.ā
Who are you to deny the crown prince? Your frail heart canāt seem to do that, not when it could be your last evening with him.Ā
So, you slide under the covers when he makes room with a giddy little smile. He tucks you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. āSleep, sweet girl.ā
And for once, you listen to him.Ā
Come morning, the reality of the situation has carved itself deep into your bones. While you wake up in Buckyās warmth, his arms around you and your legs on top of each other, you know that this is the last part of your dream. The epilogue. This will be nothing more than a memory, maybe even the figment of one.Ā
You swiftly clean yourself up, ensuring that you are properly clothed and presentable before you make your way to where Lady Romanoff had directed you. She is nowhere to be found but a carriage has been arranged to take you back to the palace. The sun hasnāt even risen when you slipped out of bed.
With one last look at Bucky whoās still sleeping peacefully, you take your leave.
Youāre back early enough that none of the staff are awake yet, but you also canāt bring yourself to sleep. The gown Becca had lent you hangs by your door quietly, a stark reminder of the evening you thought you had crafted in your mind. You turn over to ignore it.Ā
However, slumber doesnāt find you and so you begin your duties early. The princessā gown, the tea, everything a lady-in-waiting should do in the palace.Ā
Itās expected that Becca has questions about where you went last night. She was frantic with worry at the thought of losing you somewhere, or if something had happened to you that she refused to leave.
āLady Romanoff informed me that you and Bucky had returned earlier because he was ill,ā she says, forehead creasing with lines, āI apologize that your night was ruined by my brother. I was hoping you would enjoy the remainder of the ball.ā
āI enjoyed it plenty already, donāt worry,ā you smile. āThank you for giving me that opportunity.ā
āWell,ā she eagerly presses, āwere there any handsome bachelors that caught your eye?ā
Only one and he is the one you certainly cannot have.Ā
āNo, I believe we were out there to assess the men for your own relationship.ā
Becca blushes, fanning her face. āNo, no one of importance.ā Sheās never been a good liar. āOkay, there was one but Bucky would kill me if I tried. Have you ever noticed how attractive Lord Rogers is? He also has such a kind heart.ā
If he had a kind heart, he wouldāve stopped Bucky from taking that ridiculous substance, you think bitterly, unfairly.Ā
āIām sure he is,ā you only say.Ā
āHow was your evening then? Did you really not see anyone to your liking?āĀ
You smile softly at her. āPrincess, even if there were, it would not be my place.ā
āThatās rather unprogressive of you! Iām sure there are suitors who would care little about such trivial things.ā
Naive, hopeful Becca. This is why you love her.Ā
Before you can respond, Becca perks up and waves behind you. You turn and thatās when you see him ā Bucky. Heās crossing the ground with long strides like a man possessed. Heās a man on a mission as he wastes no time at all in closing the distance.
He looks furious.
He also looks an outright mess ā shirt unbuttoned, sleeves haphazardly folded, hair sticking up at odd angles. It looks as if he rolled right out of bed at the Romanoff house and came straight here. Here to this garden that youāre walking with Becca.Ā
You have a feeling that thatās exactly what he did.
āBrother, youāre looking much betterāā
āYou left,ā he instead speaks directly to you.
You grit your teeth, doing your best to avoid Beccaās look of utter confusion. āIām afraid I donāt know what you mean, your royal highness.ā
āI thought weāve established that weāre past that level of formality,ā he snaps, āIām not letting you escape this conversation. If youāll excuse me, sister dear, I need to have a little chat with this one.ā His hand covers yours, none of the gentleness from last night, instead he squeezes it tight like heās afraid of you slipping away again.Ā
Becca doesnāt follow, sheās too busy gaping and slowly piecing things together.Ā
All the while Bucky is dragging you stumbling and tripping over your own feet towards a more secluded part of the gardens, away from the curious eyes.Ā
Youāre trying to pry his fingers off you to make your escape. āBucky, stop. Stop this.ā
He does stop dead in his tracks but he immediately spins around to face you. āNo, you stop,ā he growls and the sound shoots straight for your chest. āAfter last night, after everything thatās happened, you simply ā what ā leave? I woke up and you were nowhere to be found. Lady Romanoff was the one who had to tell me that you departed earlier.ā
āI had to return to my duties first,ā you say brusquely, āI have responsibilities to tend to, your royal highness. It also would have been inappropriate and highly suspicious if we arrived at the same time.ā
āDamn propriety,ā he barks, eyes glowering, āI think you should cross that word off your vocabulary after last night.ā
Said last night flashes before your eyes, like paintings that could force a priest to pray. Youāre warm all over now, the ghost of his touch on your skin, his mouth mapping out every inch of you like heās memorizing the dips and curves of your body. The feel of his cock, hot and wet, sliding inside you, spilling evidence that took you far too long to clean last night.Ā
Even now, you can almost still feel it dripping down your legs.
āYou left,ā Bucky presses.
āYou werenāt yourself last night. Like you said, they were urges as a consequence of the substance you accidentally took. It was nothing more than a fulfillment of the circumstances.ā
He scoffs, āI said that to Lady Romanoff, not to you. I did not want her to hold you responsible for the state we were in. To me, last night wasā last night was everything.ā
The lump in your throat only grows, tears prick your eyes. He canāt do this. Not now. Youāve made your decision to let that dream go.Ā
āIt shouldnāt have happened,ā you whisper.
āShouldnāt have happened?ā He echoes, aghast. āIs that regret I hear in your voice?ā
āBuckyā¦ā
āBecause I donāt regret it. Not a single damn thing. I want you, Iāve always wanted you. Iāve made it very clear that I love you and thereās nothing I wouldnāt do for you. If I had to give it all up, I would ā if that meant that I could finally hold you.āĀ
āYou canāt say such things!ā You hiss, āYou are the crown prince!ā
āAnd sometimes I wish I wasnāt! Because it would make this easier, wouldnāt it? You wouldnāt have to restrain yourself every time you speak with me. You wouldnāt have to call me such ridiculous titles when all I want is for you to say my name. Because I know you love me, I know you do. You canāt look at me the way you do and expect me to believe that you donāt feel anything for me.ā
Your heart splits down the middle, parts of it chipping away. āIā it doesnāt matter how I feel or what I want. You have a long line of noble ladies waiting for you to make your choiceāā
āIāve already made my choice and damn anyone else who gets in my way. Iāve already had a taste of you, my love. Iām never letting you slip through my fingers again. Iāll speak to my parentsāā
āDonāt!ā You interrupt. āPlease donāt. Itāsā it wonāt be you who would suffer the consequences. If they know of whatā¦ we did, if they know that it goes far beyond the previous evening, it wouldnāt be you they punish. My mother and Iā¦ā Your sentence trails off as your voice cracks.Ā
Bucky cups your face, presses his forehead against yours. āI wouldnāt dare let a thing happen to you.ā
āItās not your choice.ā
āIt is. If they want me to be their heir, this is my choice. They have to make theirs.āĀ
āThatās ridiculous.ā
āNo, thatās love.ā
You swallow thickly as he leans back only slightly, pained like he canāt even bear this amount of distance between the two of you.Ā
āI love you. I love you and thatās a fact truer than the sun that spills light onto this earth. I wonāt let anything happen to you. I promise to care for you, to cherish you. I promise to be a man fit for you. I wonāt be perfect because god knows nobody in this world could deserve you, but Iāll always try my damndest to make you happy.ā
āBucky,ā you breathe out..
āSay yes. Say youāll be mine. Youāve made me wait all this time. All these years wasted. Donāt let us forego anymore.ā
Could you really do this? It would be a risk ā not only to you, but to your mother, to the staff. They would be questioned if theyāve ever encouraged your entanglement with the prince. Becca ā oh god, what would Becca even think? It would be an incredibly selfish decision.Ā
āDonāt do that,ā Bucky murmurs as he tightens his fingers around your face, ādonāt think about anyone else. Think about you and what you want.ā
You want him. You do.
āYouāre mine regardless, sweet girl. Iāll protect you no matter what you decide. My heart is yours.ā
āYes,ā you whisper and the answer comes easier than you think, āyes. Iām yours.ā
Bucky lets out a wet laugh, blue eyes glistening as he presses his lips against yours. āYouāre mine. Iāll protect you, I swear it.ā
āIām scared.ā
āI know,ā he rasps, āI know. Thank you for trusting me. I promise to do right by you. No matter what happens, know that my entire life is yours. Iād burn the kingdom down before I let anyone lay a finger on you.ā
āBecca might get to you first,ā you choke out a laugh.
Bucky swipes the tears from your cheeks with the pads of this thumb. āThen maybe I will have to take your protection first.ā
āDeal.ā
+ sam: my google searches from this are so embarrassing but hey i tried. i havent written bucky in a hot second but this one took me by the throat so i hope you enjoyed it!!! i love hearing thoughts so please share them if you liked it <3
Same energy as that time in college I told a girl that āthe tarotā says she needs to go call her mom and start going to therapy and she fucking did.
absolutely a granny weatherwax moment. āyou need to move the outhouse because its presence is bothering the forest spirits and theyāre cursing youā because trying to explain about bacteria from the outhouse contaminating the well wasnāt working.
summary: The Liberty KnightsāBrooklyn Western Academy's all-star football teamāare on a winning streak. Not that you care. Except that you're forced to be at every. single. game. It doesn't help that your lab partnerāBucky Barnesāis the number one linebacker in the state. And that you have to play the school song after every touchdown he makes. And maybe you can't help but stare at his ass when he's bent overā¦
a/n: this is part of the bwa series!! much love to you all and thanks for listening to me saying "i'm cooked" over and over and also with your help with bringing this fic to life!! also wanna shout out my bestie, @salty-tang, who has heard me go on and on about this fic and helped flesh out my ramblings. love you bestie!! <33
"Alright, here are your lab partners for the next two weeks."
Your professor unpauses the projector screen, revealing two columns of names. You search for yours, flicking through the blur of pixels until you land on yours.
Yours on the left. On the right: James Barnes
Four weeks. You'd managed to avoid working with Bucky Barnesā'the best linebacker' on the football team āfor four weeks. Twenty days of complete bliss. 480 hours of not hearing his whining and complaining about how your friend allegedly cheated on Steve Rogers. It was a whole big deal where Bucky took Steve's side and you took your friend's side. Naturally. They kissed and made up, but you and Bucky; well, you couldn't get past the misunderstanding. So here you are, at each other's throats while Steve and his girlfriend are living happily ever after.
Steve isn't in this class, but John and Sam are. They make a ruckus over the fact that you and Bucky are lab partners, because why not? John's always kissing Steve's ass, trying to secure his spot as the back-up quarterback, and Sam constantly teases Bucky over every single aspect of his life.
"Gentlemen, enough," the professor says, raising his voice to cut through the chaos. "This is a biology lab, not the locker room. I would appreciate it if you treated it as such."
The commotion dies down, but you can still hear John and Sam's hushed voices.
This is exactly why you don't talk to anyone outside of the music department. It's a landmine of passive agressive comments disguised as small talk.
You avoid the jocks at all costs. They're a loud, obnoxious presence wherever they flock to. Their entire personality is Liberty Knights this, Liberty Knights that, never knowing when to shut up about Brooklyn Western Academy's football team. It truly feels like they peaked in high school and make it everyone else's problem.
But having to work one-on-one with Bucky? Impossible. The worst. He hates your guts and never takes anything seriouslyāa horrible combination, really.
You're trying to take notes on the professor's lecture, but your thoughts are on an endless loop, drowning out his procedures. You start to doodle in your notebook, hoping to take your mind off of Bucky, but you can't help but feel like someone is watching you.
You sneak a peek over at the jocks and Bucky is staring at you. Fuck, why is he staring at you? He never looks at you. Actively avoids it, actually. Does he really hate that he has to work with you that much? Is he trying to find a way to switch partners because he can't stand the thought of being next to you?
This is going to be a long two weeks.
"Okay, Barnes, here are the ground rules," you start when you both meet at the lab table. He cocks an eyebrow. "Rule #1: I'm not doing all of the work in this lab. You have to contribute your share." He opens his mouth but you barrel over him. "Rule #2: I'm going to get an A on this, so you better lock the fuck in. Rule #3: We need to set a strict schedule of when we work on this lab. I don't care if it's during yourā¦" you gesture toward the table Bucky and his friends were sitting at. "whatever you guys do. We need to stay consistent."
"Consistentā¦ Well, what days work best for you, princess?"
You blink at him twice, your brows furrowing in disbelief. "Did you just call me princess?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "I don't know. Did I?"
A flush spreads across your cheeks, hot and intruding. You know what, we're not gonna deal with that right now.
"Most mornings between 9am and 11am," you say after taking a breath. "Don't even think about nights. I have rehearsal."
He groans, rolling his eyes, the icy blue eclipsed by flesh. "Rehearsal. Right. Well, I can't do mornings."
You cross your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him. "What, cause you're too hungover? Or do you have 'practice' at that time."
"No, I have class in the morning." He pauses. "Then practice."
"Well, when are you not busy?"
He thinks for a moment. "The weekends?"
"The weekends."
"Yep. That's when I'm free."
"Can you give me a time frame orā¦?"
"How about you give me a time frame and I'll work around it." His tone is condescending. And you don't like that.
"Fine. 10am to 5pm. Either day. Can you work around that?" you ask, the words dripping with sarcasm.
"Anything for you, sweetheart." Gonna punch him in his perfect teeth. "Saturdays at 2pm."
"Perfect." You start to gather your things. "Guess I'll see youā"
"We should exchange phone numbers or something." He clears his throat. "For the lab. For easy communication."
"I check my email daily. Email is fine." He should also be checking his email.
He's silent for a moment. You can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears. "My notifications don't always show up right away on my phone. Wouldn't want to leave you hanging if something comes up."
"Okayā¦ Do you use Instagram?" you ask him this knowing damn well he does, his profile always popping up in your recommended accounts. "We could use that."
He shrugs, pulling out his phone. "That works. What's your username?"
You give it and he friends you. The request notification pops up and you accept it. His profile is public, of course.
Another notification appears.
[jbbarnes] sup
"There," he says, pocketing his phone into his varsity jacket. "Now you can message me whenever." Hopefully it isn't always this dry.
"Mhm, yup." You stuff your belongings into your bag. "Wheneverā¦"
Ever since you friended Bucky on Instagram, the app taunted you. It's not your preferred social media choiceāyou mainly downloaded it to keep in touch with friends and familyābut you use it enough to warrant the amount of storage it takes up on your phone. A post will appear once every three months or so, something to show your mom that you're not dead, but that's about the extent of your profile.
There's nothing exciting about the picturesāyou don't bother with the filters, the captions are basicāso why are you now worrying about each post at 1am? Why are you wishing that you'd taken the extra five minutes to choose a filter or two?
You tap the direct messages icon. The top message stares at you.
[jbbarnes] sup ā 14h
It's unopened. Which is fine. It's not like there's anything else to it, right? You watched him type it. It took a second, maybe less. Case closed.
Yet your finger hovers over his username. What if he put something else? What if he included some important information that you've missed for fourteen hours?
You should check it. Just one tapā¦ It's harmless; he sent you it for a reason. Just. Open. It.
With a shaking finger, you tap the screen.
sup
One bubble. One word. Nothing more, nothing less.
You throw your head back and groan, the cement wall doing nothing to help the headache that's been simmering for an hour. Why is one message bothering you so much? Let alone one from Bucky Barnes?
It's fine. Just swipe out of the conversation and move on. Time to put Instagram away.
You tap on his username instead. What are you doing?? Put. the phone. down. Nothing productive will come out of this, and you know that.
You stare at his profile.
James "Bucky" Barnes
no pen or paper but i still draw attention
BWA class of '27
sc: jbbarnes
Oh, this is the worst. This man seriously wants to be a physical therapist? You roll your eyes. There's no way. No way he'll make it past undergrad. Not with the way he's constantly partying and at practice and lifting weights andā
A picture catches your eye. It's the third post down where he's laid down on the bench press seat, mid-rep, and holy shit he's ripped. You tap on the post and bring your phone closer, counting each ab muscle adorning his torso. One, two, threeā¦ How the fuck does he have an eight pack?
Then your eyes travel down farther, down to his gym shorts, where he'sā¦
All of the moisture in your mouth dries up as you stare at the outline of his dick and travels straight down to your core. No, this isn'tā¦ You don't like himā¦
You shift in bed, the creak of the cheap mattress frame assaulting the stillness of your room. You don't like him. Any other person would have the same reaction. Especially since he's veryā¦ largeā¦
Enough of that. It's really getting late and you have class tomorrow.
You click on his most recent post. A team photo with 'the boys.' Steve is in the middle, his signature golden boy smile beaming and Bucky next to him with a smirk, holding up bunny ears behind Steve's head. Sam is arm in arm with Joaquin; John is behind them, trying desperately to push his way in. By some miracle, Pietro is stood still, pointing finger guns at the camera. And to round it all out, Thor, the Norwegian exchange student, is holding up Bob with one arm, his bicep fully flexed and on display. You're unsure as to why Bob is thereāisn't he the water boy?
And the caption: someone call the weatherman cuz we making it rain
God, where does he find these?
You click into the comments.
captain_rogers: best team in all of brooklyn
jbbarnes: best team in all of new york
captain_walker2: i think u forgot to tag me barnes
wingmanwilson: my boys š¤
jbbarnes: the boys of bwa
captain_walker2: barnes, can i get a tag?
cucumber_bob453: omg im part of the boys now??
jbbarnes: you've always been part of the boys bob
captain_walker2: tag?
A chuckle escapes your lips. It's entertaining how much John is trying to fit in with them all. It shouldn't be that hard, but there's justā¦ something about him that doesn't mesh with the others.
You scroll down to the next post. Bucky's smiling at the cameraāeyes crinkling and a small dimple formed on his right cheekāwith his arm around Sharon Carter.
A strange feeling tugs at your heart. Seeing him there with Sharon. You shake your head, erasing the thoughts faster than they arrived.
You scroll through his posts faster now, catching glimpses of more muscles and smiles and football games. He's notā¦ unattractive. The dimple is cute. He's got nice facial structure. Middle of the run nose. And his eyesā¦ Piercing blue. Almost green in some lighting. He's the opposite of unattractive. Not like you'd actually admit any of this to anyone.
You turn off your phone with a groan. You're not attracted to Bucky Barnes. He's annoying. He's a jock, of all things.
But your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears. And there's another body part that's poundingā
Enough! The phone is off. The thoughts need to be turned off. Go. to. sleep!
You sigh and pull the covers up around your shoulders, ignoringābut failingāto think of the boy with piercing blue eyes and shaggy brunet hair.
Bucky's not sure when you started hating him.
No, that's a lie. He knows when you started. He's just unsure as to why you still do.
After Steve and his girlfriend made up, Bucky thought that the two of you would go back to mutually watching each other from the football field. He'd watch you in the stands, laughing at something the person next to you said, and couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.
You were infectious. Not in a diseased way, but in the way you laughed. The way you smiled at everyone while walking across campus. Except for when he passed by and you'd avert your eyes quickly, finding a leaf or pebble to stare at on the sidewalk.
But the times your eyes would find his? When you'd brush the hair out of your face after playing the school song and see him on the field? It felt like magic. Like he could survive off of your gaze and nothing else. He would drop everything to go up there and say something that made you smile. He would take any punishment from his coach to drop the ball and pull you over the railing and kiss you.
The only issue: you still hate him.
It's the Saturday after you two were paired up as lab partners.
He opens the door to the seemingly empty biology, immediately hit with the sharp smell of alcohol and sterilizing agents.
You're already at the counter, stacking the petri dishes and gathering the swabs for the lab. He looks at his phone, checking the time. He wanted to get here a couple of minutes early to ensure everything was in place, but you beat him.
"When did you get here?" he asks, watching your diligence over the lab materials.
You jump and whip your head toward him, sending the petri dishes clattering along the counter. "Christ, Barnes, where did you come from?" you shriek, gripping your chest.
He glances at the entrance to the lab. "Last I checked, the only way to get in was through that door."
Your eyes roll. "No shit, Sherlock. You just, fuck, you scared me. Do you have silencing shoes or something?"
A chuckle. "Nah, I'm just agile. It comes with the training."
"Agile. Noted."
He nods and a smile creeps up on him again. Get it together, Barnes, or else she's going to think you're a creeper or something.
He clears his throat and moves closer to the counter, grabbing the dishes and stacking them the way you initially organized them. "So what's on the agenda for today?"
You watch his hands, almost transfixed with the movements, then realized he asked you a question. You blink up at him. "Wh-What? Sorry, what did you say?"
"What's on the agenda for today?"
"Oh, well, we have to check the dishes from Thursday, record those findings, then start the next batch."
"Got it. I can start on the batch from Thursday if you want to start the next batch?"
You nod. "Just don't mess it up."
"Yes, ma'am," he says with a grin, bringing his hand up to his forehead in mock salute.
You roll your eyes again and turn away from him quickly, burying your head in your spiral notebook. He swears he sees the flushing of your cheeks but doesn't want to get any closer. It seems like you're opening up to him and he doesn't want to ruin that. So he'll tread carefully. He can be patient.
The two of you work in silence. Bucky brings his own lab notebook to check on Thursday's batch, while you diligently swab the new bacteria. The silence is comfortable; not tense, not demanding, just there. A soothing rhythm of pencils scratching against paper, the clink of plastic, and each other's breath.
"So, uhm," Bucky starts, finishing up his writings. "Are you excited for next week's game?"
You look up at him and nod, humming in response. "Of course. You?"
He smirks. "Of course. It's my favorite day of the week."
The corner of your mouth tugs upward. "Makes sense."
"Well, that's my entire personality, right? Might as well stay consistent."
He walks closer to you, tossing his notebook down on the counter. "As they say, consistency is key, Barnes."
He pauses for a moment. "Tell me, what's the instrument you play? The brassy one?"
You raise an eyebrow at him. "'The brassy one?' Thanks for the specificity. So helpful."
"Okay, you can't blame me. I don't know the instruments. Just trumpet, brass, fluteā¦"
You laugh. A genuine laugh that makes him want to grab you by the waist and dip you into an earth-shattering kiss right in the middle of this biology lab.
"Ah, yes, the three instrument families: trumpet, brass, and flute."
He smiles, unable to hold back the joy that's been aching in his heart for weeks. Months, even. "Please just tell me. Put me out of my misery already."
You wipe a tear from your eye, small laughs escaping here and there. "Mellophone. I play the mellophone for pep band, but french horn for concert band."
"Mellophone," he says, tasting the way it feels on his tongue. "Hmm. And french horn? A woman of many talents, I see."
That almost-blush from before returns, dusting the tips of your ears pink. "It-It's basically the same. Nothing too fancy about it." Your eyes flick away from him now and you busy your hands with the collected samples.
No, don't look away he wants to say. He wants to see the way your eyes light up when you talk about playing your instrument. He wants to make you laugh again, hypnotizing him with the way it pitches up first and then comes back down. He's an addict and he needs more.
"Earth to Barnes," he hears, a hand waving in front of his face. "Hey, are you in there? Did you get lost?"
His vision focuses back on you, your figure sharpening in front of him, now standing. "Sorry, yeah, I'm here. Did you say something?"
"Yeah. I said do you think we're done here? I've got all the samples we need and I assumed you finished up over there." You raise your eyebrow again, a small smirk playing on your lips. "Did I bore you with my music talk?"
"No, no, not at all," he says, shaking his head vigorously. The exact opposite, actually. "I was just.. Also thinking about the fact that we're done here." But he really, truly doesn't want to be done here. Would you say no if he asked you to go to the cafe on campus? Probably. The last thing he wants is for all the progress he's made to be for nothing. One step forward, two steps back?
"Great. Yup. All done hereā¦" you say, dragging out your words a little too long. "I'll, uhm, I'll see you on Monday? For class?"
Your tone sounds reluctant, like you maybe don't want to go either?
He should just do it. Just ask. He opens his mouth, about to say it. Saying itā¦ Asking you to go to the campus cafeā¦
"Yeah, for sure. See you on Monday."
Idiot, idiot, idiot. Barnes, you fucking idiot!
All the muscles in your face relax intoā¦ disappointment? Goddamnit, Barnes. Save it. Save this. Don't make her frown.
You just nod solemnly and shuffle out of the lab.
And he just watches you leave like a fucking idiot.
Whoever invented brass instruments clearly forgot to take into account that it might be played outside. And the fact that prime marching band season is, in fact, during September, one of the hottest months of the year.
Whoever that person is, you'd like to have a nice, long conversation with them, because your mellophone keeps slipping out of your hands and almost hitting the turf beneath your feet.
Because of the heat, marching band practice has to take place at 8am on a Sunday. You'd much rather be anywhere else than the football practice field at 8am on a Sunday, but such is the life of a music major.
"Okay, everyone, gush and go!" your director calls from the bleachers on the megaphone.
In an instant, 150 band members are running to their water bottles on the sidelines of the field and chugging as fast as they can. You almost crash into five separate people on the way to your bottle, but you get there eventually and spray the stream into your mouth.
"Did you save any for me?" Natasha asks as she walks up to you, her tone light and teasing. Even with the 80 degree weather, she somehow hasn't broken a sweat.
You take a breath after drinking and say, "I sure hope you brought your own. If not, rookie mistake."
She smirks. "Oh, I did. I just like to keep you on your toes."
"Ha ha," you deadpan, wiping the corners of your mouth. "But seriously, don't scare me like that."
"Like I said, I gotta keep you on your toes. Expect the unexpected and all that jazz."
You take another long swig before your director calls out again. "Times up! Back to set one!"
Natasha salutes to you and you salute back before running to your respective sections; one flute, one mellophone.
The drum major commands the band to attention and blows their whistle, signaling the tempo of the first song. Your instrument is upālips to mouthpieceāand you take a breath on the fourth whistle.
The band moves for the first eight bars, completing the drill without a hitch. Then the next eight bars are played with no movementāa rest during the hardest part of the song.
You're about to transition into the next setā your eyes straight ahead and body aware of the people around youāuntil a blur of movement pulls you from your focus.
The first rule of marching band: don't let distractions mess up the set. (At least, according to your band director. Is it true? Who knows.) Focus is key or else the entire set goes to shit.
Any other time, you'd ignore the blur. Students go on runs through this part of campus all the time. However, this blur looks familiar. The body type, the backwards baseball cap, the kinesiology tape wrapped around the left shoulder. You've seen this body in plenty of Instagram pictures.
Focus. You have to focus. One diagonal step at a time.
Your heart rate picks up as he gets closer and you notice that he's shirtless. Eight pack out and visible for everyone to see. Glistening pecs and pumping biceps. This is different than seeing a still picture. This is real. He's right there.
Before your feet can catch up with your brain, you miss a step. You trip over your own feet, one ankle crossing over the other, which sends you hurtling toward the mello player next to you.
The second rule of marching band? Protect the instruments at all cost. Especially since you're liable for any damage done to the instrument while in your possession.
Don't let it smash into the ground, please, please, please.
You lift the mello up as high as you can while crashing toward the turf, hoping and praying that anything but your instrument is damaged. You'll take a broken bone, a scraped knee, even a brusied ego, but your lack of funds cannot take mellophone damage.
The fall rattles your bones, sending shockwaves from your hip and throughout your body. Somewhere on the way down, you squeezed your eyes shut. You didn't want to bear witness to any damage to the precious piece of metal in your grasp.
This is not happening. Nope, not at all. There are not people crashing around you. There are no grunts and gasps traveling throughout the mellophone section and into the trumpet section. How could there be, when your eyes are shut?
You're going to just stay here. This patch of the turf? Your new home. What a comfortable spot. It's lovely, isn't it?
Your band director is calling your name. Or maybe this is a hallucination. Maybe you fell asleep and you're taking a nice nap in the sun, the rays beating down and warming your skin.
You've almost convinced yourself until the weight of your mellophone is no longer being held up by your hand. You pry open an eye, preparing for the worst possible outcomeāyour band director towering over youābut instead, you're met with the unexpected.
Bucky Barnes is stood in front of you, setting down your instrument gently on the turf. You open your other eye, taking in the full image. His chisled body is absolutely drenched in sweat, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. You can see your frazzled reflection in his sunglasses and cringe. Your hair is plastered to your face and somehow also sticking up on the other side of your head. Your face can best be described as a tomato.
But, by some miracle, Bucky extends his hand out to you. You can't quite see his eyes through the sunglasses, but if you had to guess, he might look concerned.
You stare at his hand. Do you take the help and be mortified forever? Or do you suck it up and stand on your own?
Bucky doesn't give you the chance to decide, and instead takes the hand that you still haven't put down. His skin is warm and callousedālighting up the nerve endings of your palmāyet he touches you like you're glass. Like one wrong move could cause irreparable damage.
He's helping you up now, his other hand a warm presence on your hip as you stumble. "Hey, it's okay. I've got you," he says, quiet enough for only you to hear. Your heart skips a beat, unsure how to process the gentleness of his tone.
"Th-Thanks," you stutter, your voice almost as unstable as your legs. "I'm good now. You can let me go."
He chuckles a bit and shakes his head. "Absolutely not. You're shaking. Let's get you to the bleachers."
You look down at your hands and, sure enough, your fingers are moving uncontrollably.
"It's fine, I can make itā"
Bucky cuts you off by moving, the hand at your hip gripping ever so slightly. "Just let me do this, sweetheart. Let me help you."
Oh, God. Sweetheart. Sweetheart? This sweetheart is different than the one from the lab earlier. His voice is soothing, sweet, tender, where the first one was nothing but sharp around the edges. Mocking.
You might just melt by the time you get to the bleachers.
"My instrumentā"
"Ava will get it. I've got you."
You sigh, finally giving into his touch, leaning into it just a bit more.
You let him walk you across the field and set you down gently on the bleachers, his warm touch replaced with the aggressive bite of the metal.
His reaches toward you for a moment before recoiling back. "You gonna be okay?" he asks, concern laced through each consonant and vowel.
You nod and swallow quickly, finding your voice as his naked torso comes back into view. "Thanks, Barnes."
It's his turn to nodāa quick bob of his headābefore he runs off, returning to his previous route.
Before you can say anything, you're swarmed with a hoard of people. Your director, the drum major, section leaders, the whole nine yards. They're asking you questions, but you don't hear them. All you see is Bucky's retreating form, jogging away from the field with long strides.
"School song everyone! School song!"
At the drum majors command, all band members clambor from their seats, fumbling with instruments and flip folders until the school song is found.
The Liberty Knights scored the winning touchdown for Brooklyn Western Academy. The crowd went wild, cheers erupting throughout, the parents of the players hugging and pumping cardboard cutouts of their faces.
To continue the celebration, the pep band plays the school song at top volume. It might not sound like a symphony, but tone quality is not the main focus here. This is about pep and energy, and with a large band, that is more than delivered at the end of the game.
The school song is played with an intensity unmatched to previous games. Excitement is at an all-time high! The boys of BWA will be advancing to the playoffs! Who wouldn't be excited?
"Are you pumped for the next game?" Kate asks you as you both pack up your instruments.
You shrug, shutting your case closed and snapping the latches shut. "It's kinda like every other game, right? We play, we play some more, we watch a game we pretend to know, we play, then the team wins. Then onto the next one." You grab the handle of the case and pick it up. "Don't get me wrong; I love playing pep band. It's a great time. But football? Not as much of a great time."
Kate shoves you playfully and looks at the field. "You're not having a good time staring at Barnes's ass?"
Your face flushes hot. "I don'tā I'm notā" She's laughing as you sputter. "Okay, fuck you, Bishop. Not funny."
"It's kinda funnyā"
"Not. Funny."
She holds her hands up in surrender, her case swinging back and forth from one. "Okay, okay, fine. Not funny. Apologies." Another giggle escapes. "But maybe you should make your staring less apparent if you don't want people to notice."
You glare at her. "That's it. Friendship over. You can play the 2nd horn parts by yourself now." You walk away from her, starting your descent down the bleacher steps.
"Wait, wait, I'm sorry!" she calls after you, scurrying to follow. "I take it back. I have noticed zero staring. No staring ever. On my life."
You look over your shoulder and grin. "Apology accepted. Friendship back on. 2nd horn partner reinstated."
"Phew! Don't scare me like that. I don't think I'd ever recover."
You let out a short laugh, reaching the bottom of the steps. Natasha is waiting there for you, her purple and gold uniform gleaming under the lights.
"Nat! We missed you!" Kate calls, giving her a hug. "I still would love to know how you never break a sweat in that uniform."
Natasha smiles. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. I'm sworn to secrecy."
You roll your eyes. "Okay, Miss Mysterious. We get it. You've been blessed with perfect genes. No need to rub it in our faces."
"But where's the fun in that?" She holds her hand out, gesturing to your case. "Here, let me help you."
Your eyebrows furrow. This is out of the ordinary for Natasha. "What? Why?"
"Barnes is waiting for you behind the bleachers. He said something about a lab project?"
Your heart does a flip. It's been almost a week since the marching band practice fiasco. You've interacted with Bucky during biology, but nothing more than working on your samples in a class full of students. Therefore, you haven't had a moment alone since causing a crash in the middle of the practice field.
"Lab projectā¦ Right. Okay." You hand her your case. "Take care of her, okay? I'll hunt you down if you don't"
"Oh, I know you will." She lets out a small laugh. "Okay, go. You know how impatient he is."
Did you though? She said that like you've been friends for ages.
"Alright, alright. Going."
You round the corner before you hear, "Text me later!"
This is sounding more and more like a setup.
Underneath the bleachers, Bucky is leaning up against one of the supporting beams, arms crossed and one foot pressed against the beam. His protective gear is off, leaving him in his jersey and those ridiculously tight pants.
When he spots you, he pushes himself up and walks over to you. "Hey," he says, almost breathlessly.
You quirk up a brow. "Hey," you say, your doubt creeping into your tone. "Nat said something about our lab project?"
He rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, about thatā¦"
"Barnes, this is not the time to tell me that you have some event or practice or whatever that has suddenly come up and you can't finish the lab so I have to do it myself."
His hairline shoots up. "No! No, it's not that. Fuck, it's not thatā¦"
You cross your arms over your chest, frustration oozing out of your skin. "Okay, then what the fuck is it?"
"Iā¦ Well, I've been thinkingā"
"A feat for you, trulyā"
"Aboutā hey, wait, what's that supposed to mean?"
You shake your head. "Just spit it out already."
"Fine, whatever." His hand goes back to his neck, then says your name. "I was thinkingā¦ Would you maybe want to, I don't knowā¦ Go on a date or something?"
Did you hear that correctly? "Aā¦ date?" He nods. "You're asking me outā¦" He nods again.
After a few long moments, a laugh bursts out of you. "Ohā You're kidding right? This is a joke." You wipe the corners of your eyes. "Barnes, you're funny. You're hilarious. Who put you up to this? Was it Sam? Steve wouldn't be the type to do thisā¦ Oh, I know. It's John. Am I right? John bet you to ask me out. Is this what will finally get him into the cool kid club?"
Then, you look at him. He's notā¦ Oh, shit he's not laughing. Your stomach drops. He almost looks hurt. Like you just kicked his puppy and laughed until your stomach ached.
His eyes travel to the ground, searching for something to latch onto. "You know what, justā Fuck, just forget I asked, okay?" He turns and starts to walk away, but you can hear him muttering to himself. "Stupid, stupid, stupidā¦"
Shit, you gotta fix this and fast. "Hey, hey, I didn't mean toā Barnes, wait!" you call out to him, running after him. You grab his hand and give him a tug so he faces you. "Are you being serious? Is this serious?"
He catches your eyes for a moment then looks down.
"Bucky, Iā I thought you hated me."
This brings his gaze back up to yours. "You thought I hatedā I thought you hated me!"
"Because I thought you hated me."
He blinks once. Then twice. "I don't. I mean, I did just try to ask you outā¦"
You're at a loss for words, staring into his eyes and searching for an answer. "But Steve andā¦ You hated me for taking her side." You shrug. "I hated you for taking Steve's, but that's besides the point. You really don't hate me?"
He scoffs, dragging his hand over his face. "Fuck, I'm an idiot. I should've just said something. Stupid, stupidā"
His rambling is cut off with the softness of your lips on his.
You pull away for a moment and murmur against his lips. "Shut up and kiss me, Barnes."
His lips crash against yoursāhard and relentlessāhis tongue running along the seam, begging for entrance. You part them, welcoming the intrusion with open arms.
The kiss is electric. His lips are as soft as you imagined them, softer than any other man you've dated. He's intoxicating and you can't get enough.
In a flash, he's pushing you up against the beam he occupied earlier, pressing up into your body like he needed it to live.
"Bucky, fuckā" you manage to gasp out between kissing, moaning as he moves to your neck. Your hands grip his arms, nails digging into the rigid muscle. "Bucky, what if someone seesā"
"Then let them," he mutters into your skin, the vibrations sending heat down to your core. "I've waited too long for this, sweetheart."
A gasp escapes your parted lips as his hand slides down your stomach and under the waistband of your pants. "What are youāfuck," you hiss as his fingers run over your clothed folds, then pressing gently onto your clit. "Bucky, this is a bad idea."
He sucks at the pulse point on your neck, pulling another moan from your mouth. "But you want this, right?" He looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust. "Tell me to stop. Say the word and I will."
You don't. You don't want him to stop. That's the last thing you want him to do. But he chose a really poor place for it to happen.
You return his look, panting down at him with swollen lips, and don't say a word.
He grins and presses against your clit again, harder this time. You moan and buck your hips forward, searching for more pressure. "Gonna make you feel good, okay? Gonna take care of you."
He pushes your panties to the side and slips two fingers into your folds, collecting some of your slick and spreading it upward. "Fuck, you're already wet for me?" You nod, delirious from his touch. "Of course you are, baby. You've wanted this all along. Wanted me."
"God, Bucky, yes," you groan, growing impatient. "Please, I want you."
"Alright, sweetheart. Gonna take care of youā¦" He plunges a finger into your cunt, grinning at the way you clench around him. "Oh, s'that what you want? You want that, baby?" You nod vigorously. He pushes in another finger, making you hiss at the stretch. "You're takin' it so well, doin' such a good job for meā¦"
"More, Bucky, pleaseā¦" you beg, rolling your hips until his thumb hits your clit. "Th-There, please. Want that tooā¦"
"Don't you worry, I'll make you feel good. You want it like this?" His fingers start pumping inside of you while his thumb rubs circles over your clit.
The moan that comes out of you is loud. Loud enough that Bucky covers your mouth with his other hand. "Shh, baby, gotta stay quiet. Don't want anyone hearin' us."
He pumps faster, each drag of his fingers pulling a needier moan from your covered mouth. You clench around him, feeling your release getting closer and closer.
"Bucky," you moan against his hand, but it comes out muffled.
"That's it, baby. You gonna come for me?"
"Mhmā¦"
He increases his speed, soft squelching coming from your cunt. You're gripping onto him like a lifeline, afraid that if you let go, you might lose yourself all together.
You squeeze his arm twice. "Buck."
He looks up, concentration etched on his face, and sees your face contorted in pleasure. "You ready to come for me, baby? Gonna come around my fingers?"
He lifts his hand up enough for you to speak. "Yes, Bucky, fuck, I'mā Shit, fuck, I'm gonnaā" The band in your belly is threatening to snap. "Jus' like thatā Fuck, yes! I'm gonnaā!"
White, hot pleasure floods through your veins as Bucky fingers you through your release. Your thighs are trembling, your walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers.
Bucky says your name, whispering it against your skin. "Yes, sweetheart. You look so pretty when you comeā¦"
After you're done and spent, you rest your head against the metal beam, panting heavily as Bucky removes his fingers. You whimper at the loss, a soft moan escaping your lips.
He wipes your slick on his pants and uses his other hand to move the hair covering your face, kissing your forehead once it's out of the way. "You did such a good job for meā¦ Fuck, please let me do that again."
You let out a breathy laugh. "Maybe on a bed next time?"
He grins. "A bed would be great."
A moment passes filled with breath. Your heavy, gulping ones and his soft, warm ones against your skin.
"Alright, Barnes," you say once your lungs are working normally. "Pull down those skin-tight pants."
"Wh-What?" he sputters, eyes going wide. "What do you mean?"
You gather up your hair behind your head and wrap a hair tie around it. "You want me to return the favor, right?"
He stays frozen for a second longer, then his thumbs start pushing his pants down.
Not two seconds later, Steve rounds the corner of the bleachers. "Buck, where the fuck are you?"
You and Bucky's eyes meet, both pairs widening. He yanks his pants back up and tries to pull his jersey down to cover his growing boner.
When Steve finally spots the two of you, his eyes narrow at Bucky. "Buck. What in the hell are you doing back here?"
"Well, we were.. we were talking about our lab project! Right?" He turns to you and says your name. "Biology lab project."
"Mhm, yup," you say, trying to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest. "Biology lab."
Steve looks between the two of you, taking in the flush across your cheeks and Bucky's failed attempt at hiding his boner. "IāI'm just not going to ask. But Buck, we need you for the team picture."
You press your lips together, the laugh threatening to escape.
"The picture, rightā¦ How could I forget?" Bucky sends you daggers with his eyes. "Let's get to it then, Rogers."
It takes every cell of your being to withhold your laughter until the two of them round the corner. Then, and only then, do you release it.
And cocky, aloof Bucky my beloved š« š I was rubbing my hands together the second their schedules didn't line up. I'm here for the drama. I'm here for the petty arguments. Bring. it. on.
His tone is condescending. And you don't like that.
Oh but I do š¤š¤š¤ Twelve seconds in and they're already at each other's throats? That's how you KNOW it's gonna be good š
Also, I love the way reader's disdain leaks into the narration. The bit about how Bucky should be checking his emails gave me a good laugh. It's always such a fun writing style to read, and really helps to build up the vibes.
What if he included some important information that you've missed for fourteen hours?
Okay, now reader is getting slightly too relatable š š The overthinking and obsessing over one stupid text is way too real lmao. And then, of course, it's... literally just the word "sup" š¤£ I snorted.
The whole "scrolling through his Instagram" scene felt like watching a train barreling toward a brick wall, and then crashing into it in slow motion š I would not have done one single thing differently, but I was internally screaming at her to put down the phone. We were doomed from the start, but when she found Bucky's workout pics, I truly knew there was no hope...
Side note: the running gag of John being the insufferably annoying friend trying to force his way into the group is so good š¤£ captain_walker2 lmaooo
Oh no! Bucky is already smitten with reader? The aloof troublemaker attitude is all an act??! Excellent... ššš *evil laughter in the background*
He clears his throat and moves closer to the counter, grabbing the dishes and stacking them the way you initially organized them.
The humor in this fic is so good, oml š It's so brilliantly subtle, but it has me on the floor! And you've sprinkled it in expertly; it's just the right amount!
HELP, Bucky is so so so cute in this!! I thought he was gonna be kind of an asshole right up to the end, but instead he's a sweet, lovesick softie?? Wait, please, no - you can't do this to meeeeee š
*Ahem* Anyways, I really enjoyed all the details you included about playing in a marching band! It's something I've never done, so I really enjoyed learning a bit about it! And of course, who doesn't love the inherent drama of getting so distracted by your sweaty, shirtless lab partner that you cause a massive marching band pile-up right in front of him? šš«
THE FACE I MADE when he asked her out on a date ššš I was absolutely not expecting him to actually have the guts to do that!! Especially after she instantly started teasing him the second she walked over lol. Bucky you little cutie šš„° But clearly reader was not expecting it either - omg šš Stop reader, stop! You're crushing his adorable little heart! (keep going... š)
Steve showing up legit jumpscared me; I was so riveted lol š Poor Bucky š Maybe Steve will be nice enough to stand in front of him and protect his decency; otherwise that's gonna make for one very interesting picture... Which I can only imagine will end up on Instagram for reader to ogle at (as is her god-given RIGHT) even though now she has access to the real thing š¤
Such a cute couple. I hope they passed that biology lab, but I know in my heart they became way too distracted by each other to focus on anything else lmao. But I guess they're still learning about biology... in a way š
omg tysm for reading this!! š„¹ i'm LIVING for your comments. yk when someone says "oh you WATCHED the show" my friend, you READ the fic. clocked everything i was putting down. you have no idea how much your reblog means to me. you absolutely made my day š @reading-with-rats
I wanted to be vivacious. Instead I'm voracious. @spinsteringintoamillionpieces - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
