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charmed-quill · 2 months ago

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Burrow Bound//B.W x Reader chapter 1

Authors note at end.

Original request by @littlegreenteacup

Summary: Y/N, an American half-blood witch newly arrived in Muggle London, stumbles into the warmth of the Weasley brothers after a serendipitous meeting in Diagon Alley. Drawn into their world, she finds herself at the Burrow more often than not. Meanwhile, Bill Weasley is learning to navigate life as a single father, relying on his mother’s help to care for Victoire. Though their worlds orbit each other, Y/N and Bill’s paths never seem to align—until one evening when fate finally draws them together. Will it be the start of a love story, or will they be left with nothing but heartache?

word count: 3.8k

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She stared down at the paper in her hands, feeling like an absolute idiot. The crumpled map, slightly smeared from being shoved into her pocket one too many times, seemed to mock her with its uselessness.

“It should be here,” she muttered under her breath, glancing up at the shop she’d stopped in front of. Her eyes darted between the map and the nondescript storefront, hoping for some miracle revelation. But the only thing staring back at her was a faded sign advertising "Fine Magical Instruments."

The map insisted the apothecary was right here. It had to be. Right?

Had she been given bad directions? The instructions her roommate, or flatmate, as they apparently called them here, had scribbled down had seemed simple enough:

Leaky Cauldron, head to the back door, count brick three up, two across. Walk until you reach the Menagerie, take a left, and the apothecary is the second shop down.

She replayed the steps in her head for the fifth time that day. Maybe the sixth. It didn’t help. The buildings all blurred together in a haze of ancient brick and slightly wonky signage.

She sighed, the sound carrying the weight of frustration. She should have clarified the directions, taken an extra five minutes to grill her flatmate before bolting out the door this morning. But no, in her eagerness to explore Diagon Alley on her own, she’d assured herself she’d figure it out.

Big mistake.

With a huff of annoyance, she turned on her heel, her eyes still glued to the crumpled piece of paper. The faint buzz of magical activity around her felt like it was mocking her ineptitude.

“Walk until you reach the Menagerie, then take a left,” she repeated under her breath, more to keep herself sane than anything else.

Her steps quickened as she scanned the street signs, or lack thereof. How could magical London be this confusing? She’d been navigating the magical world since she was in diapers, for God’s sake. Surely, she could handle one enchanted shopping district.

Apparently not.

“Apothecary is second down,” she said, stopping abruptly in front of yet another wrong shop. Her frustration peaked as she took in the distinctly non-apothecary vibes of the bright green storefront.

“Fucking Christ!” she exploded, crumpling the map into a tight ball and tossing it to the cobblestone ground. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment almost immediately, but the childish outburst felt oddly cathartic.

“Whoa, what did that paper ever do to you?”

She spun around, her face flaming as a deep, amused voice interrupted her tantrum. A tall man stood a few paces away, arms crossed and a crooked grin plastered across his face.

“Oh, nothing, I just…” she stammered, struggling to find the words to explain herself without sounding like an absolute fool.

The man chuckled, stepping forward to retrieve the crumpled map. His movements were casual, effortless, and she found herself caught in the moment, watching as he unfolded the paper and scanned the directions. Freckles were scattered across his tanned face, and silvery scars traced faint lines along his jaw and temple. A fiery mop of red hair completed the picture, and she realized she was staring.

“Whoever gave you these directions either hates you or hasn’t been here in about five years,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he pointed to the handwritten instructions.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, confused and mildly offended on behalf of her flatmate.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone softening. “I just mean the apothecary moved a few years ago. These directions are outdated.”

Y/N closed her eyes, biting down the irritation bubbling to the surface. Of course, the one day she decided to wing it, she got sent on a wild goose chase.

“My roommate gave me these,” she explained sheepishly. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not from around here.”

The man’s smile shifted, turning warmer, more genuine. “Yeah, I picked up on that,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “American?”

“How could you tell?” she teased, her lips quirking up despite herself.

He laughed, the sound light and disarming. “Just a guess.” He glanced at the map again before folding it neatly and handing it back to her. “Tell you what, I’ll take you to the apothecary. It’s on the way to where I’m headed anyway.”

“You don’t have to…” she began, but he was already gesturing for her to follow.

“It’ll save you from crumpling up more paper in frustration,” he said over his shoulder, his grin widening.

“So, what brings you to this side of the pond?” the man asked, his tone light as they began their trek down the bustling street.

He walked with the ease of someone who’d navigated these cobblestone paths countless times, his steps confident and purposeful. Meanwhile, Y/N was trying her best not to trip over the uneven stones, her shoes scuffing awkwardly against the ground.

“I moved for work,” she began, catching herself as she stumbled slightly. “I got a job at the Natural History Museum. I’m part of a small team that makes sure the artifacts the no-maj’s bring in aren’t, like, cursed or magically significant,” she explained, her voice lifting with excitement as she spoke about her job.

The man’s lips quirked into a fond smile, his freckled face softening as he listened. “I have a brother who does something similar,” he said. “He used to work in Egypt as a curse breaker, dealing with old enchantments in the pyramids.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in awe. “The pyramids? That’s incredible. I’ve always wanted to see them,” she said, her words spilling out in genuine admiration. She could already imagine the sun-soaked ruins, the ancient magic buzzing in the air.

“What’s your name, by the way?” the man asked, glancing at her with an easy grin. “I’d rather not keep referring to you as ‘American’ in my head.”

She laughed, the sound light and unguarded. “Y/N L/N,” she said, offering a smile. “What’s yours?”

“Charlie Weasley,” he replied, his name rolling off his tongue with a practiced familiarity. He came to a stop, gesturing ahead. “The apothecary is two doors down from here.”

Y/N’s gaze followed his gesture, but it landed on the vibrant chaos of the shop they had stopped in front of. Bold, whimsical letters stretched across the storefront:

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

Her eyes flickered between the sign and Charlie, the dots connecting in her mind. “Is this your shop?” she asked, tilting her head curiously.

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head. “No, my brothers own it. Fred and George,” he explained, his tone laced with pride despite his casual words.

Y/N nodded in understanding, her gaze lingering on the storefront. The colorful displays in the windows practically shouted for attention, filled with an assortment of bizarre and likely mischievous products.

“Right. Well, thank you for helping me get to the apothecary,” she said, turning back to him with a cheeky grin. “I’ll be sure to tell all my friends you’re the best tour guide around.”

Charlie returned her grin, pretending to tip an invisible hat. “Much obliged,” he said with mock formality. “See you around, Y/N.”

Before she could respond, he disappeared into the vibrant shop, leaving her standing on the cobblestones with a bemused smile. She shook her head, glancing once more at the chaotic storefront before continuing on her way.

—

She fiddled nervously with the hem of her shirt as the older woman led her through the labyrinthine halls of the museum. The grandeur of the place was both awe-inspiring and intimidating, with towering ceilings and intricately carved archways that seemed to stretch endlessly. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the polished floors, the sound only adding to the quiet hum of the building’s atmosphere.

“On top of your, well, magical duties,” the woman said, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “you’re expected to be familiar with the ins and outs of this place. It may seem daunting at first, but I promise it gets easier the more you work here.” Her tone was reassuring, and her smile softened the formal edge of her words.

They stopped at the entrance, the very spot where the tour had begun hours ago. Y/N glanced around, feeling a bit more grounded now that she’d walked through the building’s vast exhibits and winding corridors.

“Any questions?” the woman asked, her hands clasped in front of her.

Y/N thought for a moment, her mind briefly flicking through everything she’d just learned, before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so,” she said with a small, grateful smile.

The woman, Lori, she’d introduced herself earlier, nodded in approval. “Well, that’s all for your orientation. We’re all thrilled to have you on our team, Y/N. See you Monday.” With a final nod, Lori turned and walked back the way they’d come, her heels clicking faintly against the floor.

Elation bubbled up in Y/N’s chest, and she felt like she might float right off the ground. It was everything she could do to keep from squealing like a child in the middle of the museum. Her lips twitched with the effort of holding back a grin as she glanced down at her watch.

1:07.

Her roommate wouldn’t be home for another three hours, and she was far too excited to sit in her empty apartment. The museum still buzzed with quiet activity around her, and the idea of exploring its exhibits before her first official shift on Monday was too tempting to resist.

The architecture around her was imposing yet somehow comforting, as though the centuries-old walls had stories to tell, if only she had the time to listen. Y/N wandered into the fossil exhibition, her breath catching as she stepped into the dimly lit space. The towering skeletons loomed above her, their ancient bones casting long shadows against the walls. Her eyes fixed on a particularly large display, the intricate curves of the creature’s ribcage and skull drawing her in.

“That’s a dragon skeleton, you know.”

Y/N jumped, the unexpected voice startling her. Turning quickly, she was met with a crooked grin and a pair of familiar freckled cheeks. “Charlie? What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone laced with surprise.

He shrugged casually, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. “It’s my dad’s fifty-fifth today,” he explained. “He’s obsessed with everything Muggle—or no-maj, as I’ve heard you Americans call them. He goes crazy for this kind of stuff.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a smile. “What kind of dragon is this?” she asked, gesturing to the skeleton. She already knew the answer but couldn’t resist using it as an excuse to keep the conversation going.

Charlie tilted his head, examining the bones with a practiced eye. “It’s a Hebridean Black,” he announced confidently.

“I’m impressed you knew, especially since it’s not complete.” Y/n replied

“Well, I’d hope I know my breeds,” he teased. “I do work with dragons, after all.That’s kind of my thing.” Charlie grinned

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Does your whole family have exciting jobs or something?” she asked, laughing lightly. “A curse breaker, entrepreneurs, and now a dragon tamer. The next thing you’re going to tell me is one of your brothers is on an international Quidditch team.”

Charlie’s laugh was loud and genuine, the sound echoing through the quiet exhibition. “No, no international Quidditch players in the family,” he said, “but my sister is on a shortlist for the Holyhead Harpies.”

Y/N scoffed playfully. “Good lord,” she muttered. “Do any of you have normal jobs?”

Before Charlie could respond, they were interrupted by a loud voice. “Oi, Char-char, quit chatting up birds! We’re here for family time.”

Y/N turned toward the voice and found herself staring at two identical men, likely about her age, dressed in equally outrageous outfits that nearly made her laugh out loud. The mischievous grins they wore were so similar to Charlie’s that she immediately knew who they must be.

“I’m not chatting anybody up,” Charlie said defensively, crossing his arms. “This is my American friend I was telling you guys about.”

There was an immediate shift at those words. One of the brothers stepped forward, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously, while the other quickly followed suit, taking her other hand.

“My, my, an American, you say,” one of them said, his tone mockingly serious.

“You should be in jail for your crimes against the crown,” the other declared dramatically.

“Yes, yes, death penalty for traitors of the crown!” the first added with a mock gasp, their antics perfectly synchronized.

Y/N burst into laughter, unable to help herself. “I’ll have you know I’m a very law-abiding citizen,” she managed between giggles.

“You’re going to shake her arms out of her sockets,” Charlie interjected, stepping forward to gently pull Y/N out of their enthusiastic grip.

The twins relented, their grins never faltering. “You must come meet the family,” one of them insisted.

“I don’t—” Y/N began, raising her hands in protest, but before she could finish, one of the twins looped his arm through hers, the other doing the same on her opposite side.

“No need to be shy,” said the one to her left. “We Weasleys don’t bite.”

“Unless we’re provoked,” added the one to her right, winking cheekily.

Charlie rolled his eyes but followed along as they guided Y/N out of the exhibit. The twins chattered away, introducing themselves as Fred and George and peppering her with questions about life in America.

“So, are cowboy hats mandatory?” Fred asked, his expression deadpan.

“Or do you get fined if you’re caught without one?” George chimed in.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Only on Tuesdays,” she quipped, earning approving laughter from both of them.

They led her to a bustling cafe area within the museum, where the rest of the Weasley clan had gathered. The group was loud and vibrant, their laughter and chatter filling the space. Mrs. Weasley was fussing over her husband, who seemed delightedly overwhelmed by the assortment of Muggle trinkets spread out in front of him. A young woman sat nearby, her arms crossed but a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched the chaos.

“Mum, Dad, everyone,” Fred said with a dramatic flair, letting go of Y/N’s arm and gesturing toward her like a showman unveiling a masterpiece.

“This is Y/N, Charlie’s American friend.”

All eyes turned to her, and Y/N suddenly felt like she’d stepped into a spotlight.

Mrs. Weasley’s face lit up, her warmth instantly putting Y/N a little more at ease.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you, dear,” she said, pulling Y/N into a gentle hug before she had time to react. “You’re a friend of Charlie’s? Funny, I don’t think he’s mentioned you before.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm. “Oh, um… we met a few days ago in Diagon Alley. He helped me out, and then we bumped into each other again today,” she explained, her voice faltering slightly.

“Well, any friend of Charlie’s is a friend of ours,” Mrs. Weasley said with a kind smile, looping her arm through Y/N’s and steering her closer to the group.

“I’m Molly, by the way.” The older man sitting nearby stood and gave her a wide smile, his glasses slightly askew.

“Arthur Weasley,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand with enthusiasm. “A real pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said with a small, nervous laugh, glancing at the table cluttered with what looked like small Muggle trinkets. “Oh, and happy birthday!”

Arthur’s grin widened, clearly delighted. “Thank you, thank you! And tell me, do you know what this is?” He held up a small object—a round keychain adorned with a fake dinosaur bone.

Y/N tilted her head. “Um… a keychain?” she answered.

“Exactly!” Arthur exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he held it up for everyone else to admire. “It’s what Muggles use to keep their keys together. Brilliant, isn’t it?” “Mum, Dad, maybe ease up a little before you scare her off,” Charlie said, his tone teasing but affectionate.

“Oh, I’ll manage,” Y/N replied, her smile relaxing into something genuine. Her gaze shifted to a younger girl sitting nearby, watching the exchange with a glimmer of amusement.

“Ginny,” the girl said, standing to offer her hand. Y/N shook it, her curiosity piqued.

“Oh, so you’re the sister I’ve heard about?” Y/N asked. Ginny grinned.

“I’d hope so—unless Charlie’s hiding another sister somewhere.”

Next to her, a tall boy with freckled cheeks and a shy demeanor raised a hand in an awkward wave.

“Ron,” he mumbled, his ears tinging pink as he quickly sat back down.

“I’m Percy,” another redhead added, stepping forward with an air of authority. He adjusted his glasses and shook Y/N’s hand with precise formality. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Much obliged,” She returned with a kind nod of her head.

As the group settled into their seats at the café, the twins wasted no time launching into their favorite topic: Y/N’s American roots.

“So, tell us,” Fred began, leaning across the table with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Do Americans actually eat bacon with maple syrup, or is that just a cruel stereotype?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “We do, but it’s not like a law or anything. It’s just… good.”

George made a face of mock horror. “Savages.”

“Right, because treacle tart for breakfast is the height of sophistication,” Y/N shot back, her grin widening as the twins burst into laughter.

Molly, seated nearby, smiled fondly at the exchange. “What’s it like back home, dear? Do you miss it?”

Y/N hesitated, her gaze softening. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I miss the big open spaces. And the sunsets—they’re… different. Bigger, I guess.”

“That’s because they don’t have as many buildings in the way,” Charlie chimed in, earning a laugh from Y/N.

“Probably,” she agreed. “But it’s nice here, too. Diagon Alley’s a bit of a maze, but it’s got charm.”

“Well,” Arthur said, his voice bright as he adjusted his glasses, “you’re always welcome at the Burrow. It’s nothing grand, mind you, but it’s home.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle around her. “Thank you. I’d love to see it.”

Fred leaned in conspiratorially. “Just a warning: once Mum feeds you, you’ll never leave.”

“Guess I’ll pack a bag, then,” Y/N quipped, the table erupting in laughter as Molly gave Fred a playful swat on the arm.

"Y/N, why don’t you join us for dinner at the Burrow tonight?” Molly Weasley said, her eyes sparkling with genuine warmth. "It’s the least we can do after Charlie’s told us how much he’s enjoyed meeting you."

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to intrude…” Y/N began, though her heart fluttered at the invitation.

“Nonsense!” Molly interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “We love having guests, don’t we, Arthur?”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. You’d get a proper introduction to wizarding Britain—Weasley-style,” he said, gesturing to the lively group around him.

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Charlie, who gave her an encouraging smile. “You’ll love it,” he said simply. “Mum’s cooking is legendary.”

Fred leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And don’t worry, we’ll keep the jokes about Americans to a minimum.”

“Define ‘minimum,’” George added, smirking.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Well, how could I say no to that?” she said, looking back at Molly. “Thank you—I’d love to.”

“Brilliant!” Molly clapped her hands together. “It’s settled, then. We’ll get Charlie to pick you up before tea.”

As the family returned to their celebration, Charlie leaned closer, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Brace yourself. Dinner at the Burrow is… an experience.”

Y/N smiled, already feeling a strange sense of belonging among the chaotic, loving Weasley clan. “I think I’m ready for it,” she replied.

—

She stood in front of the mirror, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweater. The soft fabric twisted between her fingers as she tilted her head, eyeing her reflection critically. The sweater was fine, nice even, but was it too casual? Too plain? She had already changed her outfit four times, each choice leaving her more uncertain than the last.

“You’re being stupid,” she muttered under her breath, her voice low and harsh in the stillness of the room. “It’s not that serious. It’s just dinner.”

Her stomach churned anyway. She let out a frustrated sigh, smoothing the fabric of her sweater as if it would magically grant her confidence. A sudden knock at the door jolted her out of her spiral, the sharp sound echoing in the small space.

She turned toward the door, her heart leaping slightly in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she swung it open.

Charlie stood on the other side, his easy grin and casual posture instantly grounding her. The faint smell of fresh air and something earthy, like pine or smoke, seemed to follow him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice warm and steady as he extended his arm to her.

She hesitated only for a second before stepping out and locking the door behind her.

“I think so,” she said, her voice softer now as she looped her arm through his.

Charlie gave her a reassuring nod. With a sudden loud CRACK, they vanished from the doorstep.

The sensation hit her immediately. The familiar but still deeply unpleasant feeling of being shoved through a too-tight rubber tube made her stomach flip. She clenched her teeth, barely suppressing a groan. Then, with another jarring CRACK, it was over.

She gasped as her feet hit solid ground, the cool evening air brushing against her face. Her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. They stood in an open field bathed in the soft, golden glow of twilight. A tall, lopsided house rose before her, its mismatched windows and chimneys jutting out at strange angles. Specks of warm yellow light glowed from within, and the faint, inviting aroma of something savory wafted toward her. Wildflowers danced gently in the breeze, their colors vivid against the fading light, while chickens clucked and scurried across the yard, pecking at the dirt.

It was chaotic and imperfect, but there was an undeniable charm to it. It felt alive.

“What do you think?” Charlie asked, his voice breaking the spell.

She turned to him, still trying to gather her thoughts. “It’s—” she trailed off, searching for the right words as she stared at the house. “Amazing,” she finally said, her voice full of awe.

Charlie’s grin widened, his chest puffing out slightly as if he’d built the house himself.

“We better get inside before Mum sets a search party on us,” he said, nodding toward the house. The faint sound of clinking dishes and muffled voices reached them, growing louder as they approached.

With a small smile tugging at her lips, she followed him toward the door

a/n: so if you’re reading this my old account got terminated for some reason so I made a new one with the same name (which is this one) anyway re-uploading what I had 🫡

#bill weasley angst #bill weasley fluff #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley #harry potter fanfiction #charmed writes 🖤

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years ago

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Prompt || Reader and Bucky booking a hotel for a lazy romantic weekend, most of which they spend naked. Bucky decides that they feel too comfortable to want to get up and go out for food, so Reader decides to order out for them and get dressed enough to meet the delivery person at the door. While Reader is accepting the order, Bucky wraps up in a sheet and comes up behind them, smug as both Reader and the delivery person become flustered. — Requested by @weekendgothgirl

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Word Count || Around 1300

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — 18+ Only, Minors DNI, mature content/language, implied nudity and sex.

Random prompt event || Masterlist

Paris—The City of Love. It had always been the obvious choice for a romantic honeymoon with your husband, Bucky. From the moment you arrived, you spent your days exploring the city’s wonders—taking walks along the Seine River, and visiting Notre Dame and the Arc de Triomphe. Bucky also indulged in your love for fashion by taking you on shopping trips in the high-end districts, splurging on all the most luxurious brands.

But it was the evenings that truly took your breath away. Bucky arranged private tours of the Louvre, allowing you to marvel at the beautiful artworks, such as the stunning Mona Lisa, in intimate privacy. And to end the night, you would have a romantic candlelit dinner with a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower as you indulged in delicious French cuisine.

As you were coming to the end of your picturesque honeymoon, you retreated to your hotel suite and spent the last few days in each other’s arms—naked. Exploring not just the city but each other's bodies and souls as well. You reveled in each other’s loving presence and touch—kissing, cuddling, and making passionate love. And when you weren’t lost in the burning passion, you engaged in deep, meaningful conversations that lasted for hours on end, expressing your intense love and commitment to each other.

As the sun began to peek through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden glow, you stirred awake slowly in the embrace of your husband’s arms and the silky sheets. You snuggled further into his warmth, contenting a sigh as your mind filled with the previous night of sex—your body still lingered with pleasure. You inhaled his aroma, a mix of his cologne and natural musk. It filled you with comfort and safety, and you never wanted to leave the haven of the bed.

Bucky was already awake. Humming a soft melody as his fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your eyes and met his gaze. His ones swam deep with love and adoration for his wife.

“Morning, ma chérie,” Bucky murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand before trailing them up your arm.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the term of endearment, so fitting for the current circumstances. “Morning, James,” you replied.

He pulled you even closer. Your naked bodies pressed tightly together. His nose brushed with yours as a smile tugged on his lips. “So, what do you want to do today, my love? A walk? Shopping? A romantic boat ride down the river? Or, is there perhaps something else you have in mind?” A twinkle of desire shone in the depths of his blues as he uttered that last part.

You nibbled on your bottom lip as your fingers tangled behind his neck. Your lips brushed delicately with his as you spoke in a low, sultry voice. “Hmm, I have a plan. It involves you and me naked in this bed. And, that thing you did last night.”

“Is that so,” he hummed with an intriguing eyebrow.

Your lips met in a fiery kiss, each ragged breath mingling with the other as it deepened. The passion was intense as you clung to one another, lost in the moment. But just as the kiss reached its peak, there was a knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice announcing room service.

You both pulled away with a frustrated groan. You had completely forgotten that you’d ordered breakfast late in the night for the following day. Although your appetite was mostly for Bucky at the moment, you could really use some food in your system.

“I’ll go get it,” Bucky offered as he began to rise from the bed.

But you stopped him with your palm pressed against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. “No, you stay here. For once, I want to come back and find you naked in bed,” you teased, winking at him. The smirk on his face let you know he wouldn’t protest at that.

He gave you a light tap on the ass as you got up and reached for his white button-down shirt on the floor. You put it on, and it covered the most intimate parts of your body but left little to the imagination.

As you walked out into the living room and then the wide entrance, you opened the suite door, and a man with two metal push trays stood on the other end. His eyes widened at the sight of your barely-covered form, but he quickly regained his professionalism.

“Room service, madame,” he spoke in a French accent.

“Thank you, please come in,” you responded and gestured with your hand for him to enter.

As he wheeled the trolleys into the vast living room, he tried his best to avert his gaze from your tempting body while arranging the plates, cutlery, and food on the dining table.

You were impatient for him to leave as you longed to return to the real feast that was waiting in the other room.

But before you could make a move, a pair of familiar arms wrapped around your waist from behind. You could feel Bucky’s toned physique and hardening cock against you through the silky fabric of his robe. His breath, warm against your neck, sent shivers down your spine, which were followed by a trail of fiery kisses across your skin that elicited a moan from you.

You melted into his embrace as your body hummed with need and desire. Bucky’s hands roamed over your curves, exploring every inch of your figure. You arched into his touch as his erotic whispers, and skilled fingers ignited sparks of passion through your nerves, making you moan and whimper softly.

The room service attendant cleared his throat, pulling you back into reality with a gasp. You flushed hot, embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment.

Bucky, on the other hand, was amused by the situation. His actions were deliberate in letting the man know who you belonged to.

“I think we should let him do his job, ma chérie.” Bucky chuckled against your ear as he spoke.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from Bucky, adjusting your shirt to a more appropriate state. The man remained professional, but the embarrassment in his eyes was evident as he stared at the two of you.

“Thank you,” you said, trying to keep your composure. “We’ll take it from here.”

The man nodded before quickly turning on his heels and making his way out of the suite, closing the door behind him.

You turned to a chuckling and amused Bucky as a mix of embarrassment and desire coursed through you.

“Oh god, that was so fucking awkward. Sorry about that,” you said, biting your lip, trying to hide the embarrassment from your face, but Bucky saw right through it, his eyes dark with desire.

“Don’t be, doll. I love it when you lose yourself in my touch. I love it when you can’t keep quiet for me,” he uttered with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Your fault. You started it.”

He pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours. “And I plan on finishing it,” he murmured, before capturing your lips in a needy kiss, leading you back to the silky bed for a second round of the thing he had done to you the previous night. The food could wait till later, after all.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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