#junejukeboxscribbles

"You are not coming downstairs," Diana informed you. "You will only embarrass us." 

Ellyn nodded and before you could protest, they pushed you inside your room and turned the key.

You sat on the window seat, staring at the distant fields as the shouting and footsteps came.

The door flew inward and you jumped to your feet.

A young knight stood in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, a silver tower sewn upon his doublet, handsome enough to belong in a song.

Behind him stumbled your father, red-faced and breathless.

"Ser Gwayne, please," he said. "There has been some misunderstanding."

Gwayne was already crossing the room and dropping to one knee before you, looking up at you as though you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

"My lady," he said, voice slightly shivering with nervousness. "I have come to ask for your hand."

You looked down at him. You knew that face. But from where?

A distant memory emerged.

A year ago, the road south of your father's lands, a man laying beside it. Young, bloodied, face streaked with mud.

"A robber," Diana had declared at once.

"Or a drunkard," Ellyn agreed.

"Leave him."

The stranger had struggled weakly to rise before collapsing again as you climbed down from your horse. 

You had knelt beside him and uncorked your waterskin.

"Can you drink?"

Beautiful blue eyes had blinked open.

You had held the waterskin to his lips while he drank.

When he tried to thank you, the words had dissolved into a cough.

"Do not speak," you had told him.

Then you had risen and turned to the servants.

"Take him to the next village."

"My lady," one had protested, "we do not even know who he is."

"Someone's son,” was your answer, and nobody dared to argue anymore.

You had never learned his name. Never expected to.

Your father made a strangled sound.

"Ser, you must be mistaken. You are certainly mixing up my daughters. May I introduce you to Lady Diana?"

"I know you could peel this door like foil, baby," you gasped breathlessly, nails clawing into his cape while his thick thigh rides the soak-seam of your suit, sending sparks of pleasure through your clit. "G-get both of us out."

He answered with touch: large fingers capture your wrist with disarming gentleness, his thumb sweeping tenderly along your lifeline until the hefty slipped from your grasp and clinked forgotten between your feet.

Summer blue eyes, dark with storming desire, held your gaze.

"Not until you give it up," he rasped, palm skimming from waist to ass, grinding you harder onto the meat of his thigh.

The other finally drags with your zipper south, exposing the swell of your breasts. Rough fingertips brushed your stiff nipples, pinching lightly and drawing needy whimpers from your throat that ricochet off steel. "No more games, yeah?"

"Try harder, Big Blue," you teased back, arching into his touch with doubled enthusiasm. Your teeth nipped his jaw, tongue soothing the barely-there mark. "Isn’t playing cop to my robber a thrill?"

His groan answered for him, vibrating through your chest. One hand settles on your ass, squeezing, drawing you impossibly flush; fabric sparks against fabric, nipples pebbling as his cock twitches against your stomach. Zippers descended lower, belts clattered, all revealing flashes of tantalizing skin.

You quickly sank to your knees, tongue tracing the sculpted groove of his abs before freeing him with practiced flicks. He’s heavy, jerking when your mouth envelopes the crown. His head thuds back against the door; your name escapes from his throat like prayer while you hollowed your cheeks, stroking the thick length and savoring the shudder rolling down his frame.

"Good God— sweetheart—" The plea broke as you pulled off with a wet pop, licking a slow stripe up the underside.

"P-promise me you’ll behave,” he tried again. "Walk away clean otherwise," he panted hotly against your ear, fingers finally slipping between your slick folds to thrust two thick digits deep inside. "No more thefts."

"No, I can't promise that I won't do that," you moaned, words spilling out shakily as pleasure coiled tighter. "B-but I’ll make it— worth your while if — if you let me keep— playing bad, baby—"

Superman's control snapped once again.

His eager mouth claimed yours in a ruinous kiss, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with the blunt head of his cock, nudging and pushing into your dripping heat, and finally, finally, filled you.

"Kal—!" You clenched around him, lost in raw surrender.

All the while, the Lunar Tear lies ignored, winking with each crimson flash while you and you and Big Blue burn hotter, brighter than any jewel this vault could ever guard.

.

.

You understood quickly why people called Brendon that. Most of the Pitt were intimidated by him. He circled the place like a predator who knew was going to get his fill when he smelled blood in the water. The surgeon had the skills to back up his confidence, too, his focus sharp and his methods rapid and efficient. You believed he’d be at home in the ocean if he was a shark in another life.

But you also liked to believe that underneath his magnificent firm body that there was a soft spot.

Seriously though, how does he look so good in scrubs?

“Morning,” you called out when he walked by.

He paused and turned his head, his eyes narrowed.

“You’re early,” he said, his voice low and even.

You laughed and you swore you caught the corner of his mouth lift, like he was trying not to smile.

And he shows them pearly white.

“You say that like I’m not always early,” you teased.

“I know you are,” he uttered, angling his body to fully face you. “And you were here late last night.”

He noticed? 

You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Case needed finishing, so I stayed.”

“Good work,” he said after a moment.

“Thanks, Park,” you said softly, your heart skipping a beat.

Dana, who stood a few feet away, stared at Brendon over her glasses. He was not a man who made small talk. He wasn’t the kind of person to throw out compliments for the hell of it either.

His jaw clenched, the subtle warmth in his eyes fading. “Let me know if anyone gives you a hard time,” he ordered before he walked away.

Dana raised an eyebrow at you.

“Not a word,” you mumbled.

But you were smiling.

Another first time character for me! What do we think? Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

The night is alive.

Music and dancing, the laughter of people having a good time and celebrating you and Bucky.

Mr & Mrs Barnes.

It still sounds surreal, even hours after the ceremony.

After you walked down the aisle, your father keeping you steady as you walked towards your future. After Bucky slipped your wedding band on your finger and said I do with glistening eyes. After the speeches from Sam and your best-friend, the best man and your maid of honour, that had people both laughing and in tears.

It's been a absolute dream, just how you had imagined it since you were a little girl and draping your mother's sheer scarf from your hair like a veil.

You find yourself in the gardens of the venue, sat under an arbour with jasmine and roses intertwining with the latticework, letting your new beginning really soak in.

"Surely you can't be planning your escape already, doll?" Bucky remarks, hands in his pockets as he follows the path to the arbour, "Only got married a few hours ago."

You tilt your head with a grin, "You caught me."

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head and sitting beside you. His arm snaking around your shoulders and kissing your temple before resting his head against yours.

You take his metal hand in yours, your thumb running over his golden wedding band that matches yours.

"It blends well." You comment softly, and you can feel him smile next to you, "Meant to be, that's why."

You giggle, intertwining your fingers, rings clinking together gently.

"What a sap, get it together, baby." You jest.

Even now, his laugh makes your belly explode with butterflies.

He turns your head so your noses brush together, whispering softly, "Only for you, Mrs. Barnes."

You can only kiss him in response.

In the short months you've known Bucky, he's always been quiet. The first time you met, if you're honest, he scared you a little, he wandered in to your little stand, he looked out of place, on alert almost, disheveled hair covered by a sport cap, he wore a dirty red henley and a brown jacket… you would've found him handsome if he wasn't so intimidating.

His gloved hand passed through books and flowers until he picked up a flower he liked, waving it in your face expecting you to understand he wanted to know how much it cost.

He kept coming back but he didn't say much, or buy anything for that matter, except for the occasional singular flower, he mostly just read the books you offered, and left a tip when he left.

Talking came easy to you, maybe that's why your stand still existed, you talked to people and Bucky wasn't the exception, at first he just listened to you babble about anything and everything, so eventually he started chiming in, small at first, quick fun facts, a dry laugh here and there or a simple yes or no. Eventually he became your close friend, and of course you wouldn't say this to him but you were pretty sure that you were his only friend.

Today he was specially quiet, you assumed it was because he didn't sleep again but he would've told you, you smile when you realize just how much your relationship with him has progressed, he trusted you. You tried to make small talk but he just smiled and nodded, you were beginning to worry maybe he was mad at you.

At the end of the day you couldn't take it anymore, "What is the matter with you?" you ask maybe a little bit too harsh because Bucky looked scared now, clearing your throat you regulate your voice "you haven't talked to me all day, did I do something?" the genuine worry on your face makes Bucky's stiff brows soften.

"Sorry I-"

"You see, I thought we were close enough that we could talk to each other" you interrupt, "maybe I was wrong but-"

"You didn't do anything wrong" he spoke loud enough for you to actually stop talking and listen to him, much closer to you than when the conversation began.

"I'm nervous" he admitted, his eyes not quite meeting yours, by pure instinct your hand reached for his, "why would you be nervous? it's just me" you think out loud. "Because maybe…" he sighs "maybe I've been trying to figure out all day how to ask the girl of my dreams out on a date."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he lets out a nervous laugh, shifting in his spot when for the first time ever you had nothing to say.

"Girl of your dreams you say" grinning so much your cheeks hurt, shifting a little closer to him, hoping he won't spook easy, "buying me a cup of coffee wouldn't be a bad start" you tease, making him blush, but with a newfound confidence he takes your hand, his rough thumb feeling the softness of your skin, a silent promise he'd work on his communication skills.

Your smile, the sound of your laughter, the moles and marks on your skin, the way your lips move when you say his name.

So he did what any other man would, he talked to you, asked you things he already knew about, praised you.

Asked you to be his.

Then the fifth time came—the first time since he asked you out, the first time since you told him no— and he only had one voice inside his head, the devil whispering in his ear, I'm gonna make her mine.

All mine.

The very same night, he had you sprawled out on his bed, hands cuffed to the headboard, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed and whimpered, begging him to let you go.

Why would he? You're his. And he always takes care of his toys— even when he breaks them, he cares.

He licks a slow, long stripe down your neck, humming at the taste of raw fear on his tongue. His calloused hands roam over your soft skin, the way you kept squirming and writhing underneath him doing nothing but arouse him further.

Pausing just over your mound, he takes a long, tortuous moment just to flash a perfect smile at you. He was about to take what was his, and he would enjoy every. single. fucking. second.

His fingers swipe over your slit, and a shudder passes through your body. You were wet. Embarrassingly so. All because of the man in front of you.

You shut close your eyes, trying to escape, trying to wake up from this nightmare, but each soft circle over your throbbing clit made it harder to do so. Each pathetic mewl that left your swollen lips made you realise.

You really were his.

And all you had now was him.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: @sassandscribbles @highonmarvel @hopeonmars

What felt like two seconds later, the couch dipped with a familiar weight at the other end. Peeking through an eyelid, you spied your husband loosening his tie, and settling against the cushions. "Long day," Bucky sighed, a large hand running up your calf and bringing your feet to settle on his lap, his thumb absently pressing into the soft skin.

Content to just lay back and let him pull whatever comfort it was he got from massaging the soles of your feet, you relaxed again. Until you felt him maneuver the length of your foot over his growing erection with a suppressed groan.

"What's the matter with you?" you chuckled, flexing your toes just slightly over the bulge in the fabric.

"I know you're tired, and I'm tired, but I just can't help myself around you sometimes," he groaned, pressing himself up into your arch.

"So you're using my feet to get off?" You were now propped on your elbows, watching the desperate motion of his hips, the way his lips were slightly parted with need.

A small hum of affirmation vibrated through his chest, his fingers around your ankle tightening as you pressed down of your own accord. "Is that okay?"

"Just didn't think you were into this sorta thing."

"I love every part of you, sweetheart." His head turned, looking down at you with pupils blown wide. His unoccupied hand drifted up to the side of your face, thumb tracing your lower lip.

"Every part, huh?" you smirked, biting down on the cool metal gently.

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