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tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years

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Waxing Gone Wrong

AU Bucky Barnes x Reader Fic

Master List | Bucky Barnes Master List | Series Master List

Another in the pornstar!Bucky series. This is a mostly true story, something which happened to a friend of mine. I nearly wet myself when she told it to me, so I hope you all get the same enjoyment out of it as I did. As I have always said, anything you tell me can, and likely will be used in a fic at some point in the future.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader | Word Count: 2161 Warnings: The painful truth about what some women go through when waxing. Language.

You didn't know what had ever possessed you to think you could get away with trying something of this magnitude. It had been a ridiculous thought, a horrible idea, and asking for trouble all wrapped up in one.

But the other girls did it, and Wanda and Natasha had sworn up and down it really wasn't that hard. Just spread on the wax, rub on the linen strip, pull the skin taught, and tear. Easy peasy, right?

Wrong.

And not a little wrong, but dead freaking wrong.

Now you were stuck, panicking, in pain, and at your wits end.

It had started out innocently enough. Bucky's birthday was coming, and you'd decided, after a casual yet somehow still embarrassing conversation with Wanda and Nat, one the bests gifts you could give your husband was a hair free nether region for his all-access pass. You'd never done it before, and while you kept everything tidied up down there, this was something you knew he'd enjoy. Nothing worse than hair in your mouth when you were going down on someone, something you'd never had to worry about as Bucky was usually quite waxed.

And hey, if the boys could do it, how hard could it be?

However, there was no way, not one iota in hell, were you going to subject yourself to the mortification to come with going to have your bits waxed, deciding instead to do it yourself.

That was your first mistake.

As Bucky was away for a few days, due to return on the big day, you'd decided it was the perfect time to give it the old college try.

The instructions seemed simple enough. Place tub in microwave, warm in short bursts, stirring after each burst of heat until wax was a smooth, honey-like consistency. Apply a liberal amount of wax to area to be epilated, apply linen strip rubbing firmly in the direction of hair growth, pull skin taut and remove the wax strip.

It all sounded so easy... in theory.

Needing to be close to the microwave as you were uncertain how quickly the tub of wax cooled, you'd hauled an old canvas camping stool, one with a low back, into the kitchen. Not knowing how messy it would be, you didn't want to get wax on your good kitchen chairs.

Wrapped in only a robe, alone in the house with the doors locked and window drapes pulled, you’d still blushed crimson even though you knew no one would ever see you.

Once everything was ready, the wax honey-ish, the strips of linen laid out with drill sergeant-like precision, sticks to apply the wax at the ready, and a garbage can for easy disposal of the dastardly unwanted hair, you'd dropped your robe on the kitchen island, and settled into the camp chair.

There was just one problem. How did you see to get wax on the naughty bits without slopping it everywhere?

After a little deliberating, and a touch of repositioning, you'd arrived at a very unladylike final state. Slouched and leaning back precariously on your old camp stool, you were doing a perverted form of Pilates ‘V’ sit with legs spread wide and both heels propped up, one on the kitchen counter the other on the island.

God save you, if anyone had seen you like that, you'd have died right then and there.

A rosy tomato red flush covering your body, you checked the wax, loaded the first stick, and gingerly applied it to your lady bits, leaving a wide swath right along your labia.

“Hot, hot, hot!”

Perhaps you'd gotten it too warm.

Hissing as the heat disappeared into a not necessarily unpleasant warmth, you reached for the linen strip, managed to clench your abs a second time, and got it applied to the sticky wax.

Rubbing firmly, you contorted back into a pretzel, sweat already collecting on your brow, pulled your skin tight, and ripped the strip off.

“Mother fucker!” you screamed, agony searing through you once innocent, happy, pain-free bits, now vowing revenge on you and cursing the first of your children to be bald so they would never know such pain.

Once you managed to stop howling, and the white had receded from your slowly clearing vision, you brought the accursed wax strip up, ready to claim victory on the forest of hairs you'd just plucked from your still throbbing center, only to see… nothing.

“What the hell?”

Not only was the strip void of hair, it was also void of wax.

That couldn't possibly be right! You'd followed the steps. Warm. Apply. Rub. Pull! It wasn't rocket science for heaven sake!

Pulling yourself upright, you glared down at your furry bush in fury. The wax which had been lovely and warm was now tacky but mostly solid.

Well… shit!

Glaring at the box on the counter, you swiftly reread the instructions. Maybe you'd used too much wax? Perhaps if you applied a slightly thinner coat. Besides, you needed to get both hair and wax off somehow. You couldn't have a half waxed beaver for Bucky's birthday.

Applying a slightly less thick coat of wax to the opposite side, you repeated step three, rubbing with a touch more vigour, making sure it was really stuck down this time. By the time you were done, you felt like you'd done a thousand sit-ups with how hard you been clenching your abs. Panting, nearly gasping for breath, deciding this for sure counted as your exercise for the day, you braced yourself, and ripped off the second strip with as much strength as you could muster.

This time the screaming amounted to high pitched, inventive swearing in which you and your vagina vowed to find and castrate whomever it was who thought waxing down there would be a good idea.

Once your vision returned to normal, you lifted your hand, filled with triumph for surely you'd succeeded. Nothing which hurt that much could be anything less.

The blank and empty linen strip mocked you with your failure.

“Son of a bitch!”

Angry, and not thinking clearly, wondering how the hell you were going to get the wax off, you dropped your feet to the floor where the sudden suck and seal had you realizing you'd just waxed your lips together.

A pitiful whimper left your lips when you contemplated giving up and call Bucky. He waxed, he'd know how to get the stuff off, but no. No, you were a big girl, and besides, the shit would never let you live it down.

Screwing up your courage and stomping on the growing panic - what happens if you have to pee and it's all sealed over? - you made a second painful discovery when you tried to stand and found yourself glued to the canvas stool.

The moan welling up in your throat came out a defeated whimper. Peeling yourself carefully from the seat, you grabbed your robe, the box the wax came in, and your phone, and headed for the bathroom.

Each pussyfooting step was a new level of hell as wax pulled against hair, turning your stride into a weird sliding shuffle. By the time you reached the bathroom, you'd decided castration was too good for the idiot who'd invented the torture device known as a Brazilian and had decided flaying them open or making them use their own godforsaken product was the best punishment for their crimes.

Running the tub as warm as you could stand, you slowly climbed in, hoping against hope it would melt the wax and allow you to escape this fiasco of an attempt to do something outside the box.

When you sank to the bottom of the tub though, the warming effect of the water had a completely opposite effect. The wax melted just enough to have you vacuum sealing your pussy to the porcelain.

Bursting into hysterical laughter, it was either that or tears, you groped for your phone and called Wanda. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you sure as shit weren't calling Bucky about this now. This was going with you to the grave.

When the phone continued to ring, you hung up and called Nat only to have the same problem. Neither woman was answering. In a move born of panic, you dialled a third.

“Hey, dollface-”

“I waxed myself together! What do I do?”

Silence, then Steve murmured, “You want to elaborate on that for me, doll face?”

The tears finally tipped over. “I wanted to surprise Bucky for his birthday, and Wanda and Nat said it wasn't that hard, so I tried to self-wax my… um… you know, and I followed the instructions, but then the wax didn't come off, and oh my god does that hurt, so I tried it again but it still didn't work, and when I put my legs down… everything sealed together, and now I'm stuck to the bathtub!” you wailed, crying in earnest.

“Hey, hey, hey! C’mon, darlin'. It's not that bad.”

“Yes,” you hiccupped, “it is!”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Steve crooned, trying to calm you down, “we can fix this.”

“We can?” you sniffled, wiping your eyes.

“Sure we can.”

Ten minutes later after the most embarrassing conversation you'd ever had, you found out the packet of lotion inside the box was wax remover. Steve walked you through the least painful way of getting the wax off, and you'd sworn him to absolute, utter secrecy for the remainder of his natural life, or you promised to kick Captain Assmerica’s butt.

You were reasonably certain once he hung up, he'd go laugh hysterically for three or four days.

It was just as you were going to make a cup of tea to calm your nerves that the doorbell rang.

Swinging it open, you flushed instantly crimson. “Steve? What-”

“Get your coat, (Y/N).” Leaning against the door frame, he smirked a shit eating grin.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Frowning, trying not to die of embarrassment and kind of wishing a crater would open to swallow you up, you got your coat and purse, stuffed your feet in some shoes, and followed him to his car.

“Hey,” he said softly, lifting your chin so you could see his kind blue eyes. “Shit happens, doll face. I'm glad you called me, trusted me with something like this. It means a lot.”

Blushing for a whole new reason you nodded. “I did try Wanda and Nat first.”

“Ouch!” he gasped, grabbing for his chest. “Way to knock a guy down a peg! Two! Two pegs!”

Laughing at his antics, you hugged him around the waist. “Thanks, Steve. I know I can count on you.”

He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he hugged back. “Any time, doll. For anything. Now, c’mon. Get in the car.”

Once you were both inside and underway, you continued to stare at the side of his face. “Well?”

“Well what?” he smirked.

“Well, where are we going, Steven?”

“Ooh, that's an annoyed schoolmarm voice if I've ever heard one.”

Smacking his arm, you glared at him. “Why won't you tell me?”

“Surprise,” he quipped, weaving through traffic.

With a roll of eyes, you turned to pout. “Big bully.”

“I thought you liked surprises?”

“Have you met me?” you asked.

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

You smacked him again.

“Ow! Hey! No fisticuffs with the driver!”

Snorting out a laugh you shook your head. “I swear there's times I think you and Buck were born in the wrong era.”

Steve only grinned and shrugged as he pulled into a strip mall and parked. “Out.”

Getting from the vehicle, you eyed him suspiciously. “Steven.”

“There's that schoolmarm again.”

“Steven Grant Rogers!” you barked as he collected your elbow and half walked half dragged you toward the spa.

“Hey! You want to surprise Bucky or not?”

Teeth clicking shut, you went back to pouting. “Yes.”

“Then you have the professionals do it for you.” Leaning closer, he murmured against your ear, “I'd never let an amateur stand in for my scenes at work.”

“Pervert,” you grumbled, ignoring his laughing eyes.

“They had space, it's all taken care of, and I'll wait for you right here.” He pointed at the comfy looking chairs just inside the door.

“Fine!” huffing, you followed the woman smiling at you. “And, Steve?”

“Yeah, doll face?”

“Thanks.”

“Is that a big enough thanks to say I went in on his gift?”

“Get your own gift, you cheapskate!”

His laughter followed you down the hall.

-The End-

#waxing gone wrong #pornstar!Bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #waxing

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lowkeydramaqueen · 4 years

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This was a school assignment from about a year ago, to write a descriptive narrative. I thought I'd share it with you. Enjoy)

“Grayson Michaels, please make your way down to the hospital wing for your injection.”

The familiar sound of our broadcast speaker cut off our teacher, Mr Sanders.

Trailing off his sentence with a faded grin, Mr Sanders chuckled as our class erupted into multiple conversations about the events the next three days would bring.

This is normal for Scarlett Grove Academy. Every few months, our school comes undone as scientists and experienced doctors take us down to the hospital wing and evaluate our emotions and balance. We are then re-injected with a drug called Cyrus-68, something we were all injected with at birth. We were never truly taught why we needed the drug, or what it does, we just know it’s mandatory.

My best friend, Addison Doyle has always had insane theories about it, things like the government using the drug to control us. She may be off her rocker, but she’s my best friend.

“Raelynn? Hellooo?” Addison tapped my shoulder with her always perfectly manicured finger at least fifteen times before I snapped out of my trance.

“Earth to Rae?” You could hear the smile in her melodic voice.

“I did it again, didn’t I?” I grimaced in embarrassment. Or, that’s what we were told it was called when our faces heat up and we feel fidgety.

We’ve never really felt emotions other than excitement or hope or happiness, but once it’s Injection Day, those unexplainable feelings resurface. We were never really told why it happens.

Addison was about to respond, but then-

“Addison Doyle, please make your way to the hospital wing.”

Grinning at me apologetically, Addison left as she was instructed to.

* * * *

After about twenty minutes of other people being called down to get a needle jabbed into our necks, the bell chimed and the school day was over.

The next day would bring the same interruptions, as injections take three days to complete.

Slinging my violet backpack over one shoulder, I waved goodbye to Addison while I shuffled down the old marble stairs to leave the building.

* * * *

After I ate dinner with my family, it was my job to tidy up and take out the garbage. I slid my feet into a white pair of flip flops, and went outside to dispose of the trash. Stepping out on the front porch, a quiet sigh escaped my lips. With nothing but the dim porch light to find my way around the small yard, I thought I saw a shadow behind the trees. Thinking nothing of it, I threw out what I needed to. But as I began twisting the brass door knob, someone grabbed me from behind and slammed me against a wall.

I gasped at the impact of the bricks against my frail back, and tried to get a good look of my attacker. They wore a dark hood with a hood covering their facial features, so I couldn’t identify the culprit.

I opened my mouth to scream, but a mocha colored had covered my mouth.

“Don’t scream. Listen.” A female voice spoke rushedly, her voice almost wavering.

“Skip your injection. Trust me. It will be for the better. You are our world’s savior.” The woman’s hood fell back slightly, enough for me to get a glimpse of her lavender hair. She adjusted her hood, and as I opened my mouth to speak, she disappeared.

I remembered one thing.

Her hair was curled, and violet.

* * * *

The next day at school, I could hardly focus as I thought about the events of last night.

Skip my injection?

I paced up and down the hall, seriously contemplating what she suggested. She called me the world’s savior…

What would that mean? The world was fine, and who was she?

As the day went on, we were interrupted yet again for injections. I listened to name after name get called, my decision weighing on my frail shoulders.

If I went through with this, I’d have to continue being happy and I would have to fake my emotions. Am I strong enough to have control?

As the final bell rang out, I made my choice.

* * * *

I sat at my school desk, bouncing my leg in anticipation. Today was the third injection day.

My turn.

As my name was called on the PA system, I left my classroom to give the illusion I was going to the hospital wing. I dodged the hall monitor by dive-rolling into the men’s bathroom. Cringing at my mistake, I hid in the bathroom stall. Out of sight, I had a moment to collect myself. I unsheathed my silver-handled pocket dagger from the leather of my boot.

Pushing the tip of the knife into the window lock, I twisted the handle and pushed the tough glass open. Hoisting myself up on the window ledge in a kneeling position, I moved my legs to hang out the window. Pushing off with the heels of my palms, I fell out of the window and landed in a rose bush. Wincing at the thorns, I did my best to crawl out of the bush unnoticed.

After I was in the clear, I picked rose thorns out of my arms and legs. I was unsure of what to do now. After I was a safe distance away from the Academy. I walked down the forest path. Something in my head told me that’s what I had to do.

As my feet crumpled against the leaves and twigs, the thoughts in my head got louder. I knew this was the right direction. It was as if I was no longer in control and my legs were moving to some other motive I was unaware of. As the forest grew denser, my slow pace broke out into a sprint, my heart hammering against my ribcage in determination. As the path began widening and opening to a new location, I skidded to a halt in front of a hooded figure. Almost smashing into the person, I noted they were not the same as the girl from the other night.

“Are you the one the prophecy speaks of?” A male voice comes from the cloaked figure, and he beckoned me to follow.

“I was told two nights ago to skip my injection. I did, and my heart lead me here.” Adjusting my shirt, I followed the man away from the path to a place our city dubbed ‘forbidden’.

I looked around the location, and from the outside, it looked like any other abandoned building. Broken windows, chipped paint, and broken lights. The man took me inside, where there were lit candles on the window ledges and in each corner, there was a small fire burning inside a barrel. It was almost like a hidden community, with small food stations and about thirty people around. Some managing food stations, or other small workplaces, such as a place to sell clothes and a nursing area with only two patients lying in the silver sheets of the hospital beds, most likely fold-in cots.

“Where are we?” Bewilderment lacing my voice, I jogged to catch up to the stranger’s fast pace.

“This is where people like us belong.” Not elaborating, the man went quiet once again after his comment.

“Wh- People like who?” After a few moments I still got no reply.

Giving up on the conversation, I walked away and explored the rest of the area.

* * * *

After a while of aimless wandering, I noted the sun was going down. I saw more cloaked people, and tapped one on the shoulder.

“Who are you guys?” My voice held a note of urgency.

“Raelynn?” The cloaked figure sounded familiar, and held a tone of confused shock.

“Do I know you?”

Pushing the hood back, I immediately recognized the person.

“Mr Sanders?” My jaw dropped in realization as I recognized him as my high school teacher.

“Rae, you shouldn’t be here. It’s dangerous to get involved.” Mr Sanders’ brow furrowed with worry.

“I sent her here.” Turning around, I saw the woman with purple hair.

The woman and Mr Sanders started arguing about my safety and my involvement in the mission, and I got really confused.

While they kept bickering, I felt the floor sway under my feet. I blinked, and the world would flash and the sky would be dark and polluted but then things would be normal again.

“Uhh.. I don’t feel…” I trailed off as I stumbled backwards.

“Raelynn?”

The last thing I remember was Mr Sanders and the other woman shouting for a medic, and then everything went black as my head made contact with the hardwood floor.

* * * *

“Rae, come on...Wake up.” I felt someone nudging my shoulders gently. I opened my eyes slowly, unaware of where I was.

Quickly, the memories of the last few hours came rushing back as I bolted upright in the bed I was in.

“Mr Sanders,” I shifted to a sitting position on the cot as I recognized Mr Sanders as the person shaking my shoulders moments ago. “What’s going on? What happened to me? Wh-”

“First of all,” Mr Sanders pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Call me Logan. Second of all, what happened to you is a side effect of being off the Serum Cyrus-68. And third, you’re going to help us fix our world.” Logan observed my body language as I responded, sitting up eagerly.

“Alright. What’s the plan then, Logan?”

* * * *

ONE WEEK LATER

“Alright, for this to work I need everyone to do exactly as I say. We have a new recruit that is going to help us go through with the final stages of the plan.” Logan paced back and forth in front of us, and abruptly stopped.

“This,” gesturing to the figure emerging from the shadow in the corner, Mr Sanders turned his back to us to greet the new recruit.

I felt my jaw drop as I heard a familiar voice.

“Alright. Thank you for that introduction, Logan.” Beaming with mystery and determination, there stood my best friend, Addison.

Addison’s face fell temporarily, but she masked it quickly as she recognized me.

“This is what we need to do.”

* * * *

It was the night before our plan. We were going to infiltrate the lab where Cyrus-68 was made, and destroy every trace of the chemical. I was wandering the halls of our main base, unable to sleep. There were so many ways this could go wrong. Not to mention, there’s rumors of a spy in our group. Then again...The plan could be successful. I wonder how the world would be if we could freely be emotional. I turned the corner to enter Addison’s room to share my worries. As I got closer to her door, I heard her voice in an angry whisper.

“No, that’s not...Yes, that’s what I told them to do. Trust me, no one suspects anything. This will work.”

I heard the pitter-patter of rain hitting the windows as I crouched near Addison’s door, listening in to the phone conversation.

“We need to frame someone else? Oh...um, what about-” Addison was cut off, and I heard her voice drop an octave. “...Raelynn? No, no, I’m not backing out or anything. I just, um...Why not Logan? Or Melanie? Or-” She was cut off again, and I heard Addison sigh in defeat. “Yes, I can do that.”

I tried to get a look at Addison, but my crouch broke and I tumbled into the doorway of Addison’s room. Addison looked down at me, wide-eyed with fear and shock.

“I, um, I’ll have to call you back.” Addison hung up, slowing her movement nervously. “How much did you hear?”

“Um,” I stood quickly, trying to think of something on the spot. “I don’t know what you mean, heard what?” I smiled sheepishly, silently cursing myself for not being able to lie.

Addison sighed deeply, sadness and regret lacing her voice as she spoke. “I wish you were a better liar.”

Before I knew what was happening, I had a rag held over my mouth and I was falling unconscious in Addison’s arms.

In my head, I pleaded with myself to remember what I’d learned.

“You’re the-” My voice wavered sleepily.

Addison is the spy.

* * * *

I woke up in my bed, with a pounding headache. I tried to remember the events of last night, but it’s all just foggy memories.

As I stood up to get dressed, Addison walked in. I don’t know why, but I felt uneasy around her.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. Today’s Mission Day!” Addison spoke in a sing-song voice, mock excitement in her voice.

What happened last night?

* * * *

As we geared up for our mission, I looked around one last time at our home. With the injections the skies are blue and the buildings are beautiful. Without the drug in our veins, everything was broken and polluted. Our world was dying and instead of fixing it, we turn a blind eye. I look around at the crumbling building and broken glass. I tilt my head up, and stare at the polluted dark sky, and sun just barely peeking out behind the almost brown clouds. Too bad this is our world.

* * * *

Our group made it to the facility, Addison leading us.

As we walked, a memory flashed into mind; Addison having a phone conversation.

“We need to frame someone else. Don’t worry, no one suspects anything.”

Just as fast as it came, it was gone.

Is Addison still worthy?

As we found ourselves in front of the laboratory’s glass doors, the only building still intact, another memory washed over me.

“I wished you were a better liar.”

Addison held a rag over my mouth, and the memory faded away.

I could imagine the gears turning in my head, realization flashing through my thoughts.

Addison is the spy.

We walked into the laboratory, and everything was quiet. The lab was vacant.

“Hey.” Keeping my voice low, I caught up with Logan. “Wouldn’t the most important lab in London be more protected? What if this is a set up?�� Fear coursed through my veins, as I heard people down the hall.

“We can trust Addison, she knew the lab shifts.” Logan waved off my concern.

“Logan, you need to know something about-” There wasn’t enough time to tell him as the alarms started blaring.

The last thing I saw was Addison’s confident smirk as she threw Logan forward, pushing him to his knees. I was immobilized as I saw people fighting everywhere. The guards and scientists were fighting my people, everyone was just a tangle of limbs.

I watched Logan grab a guard by the forearm and throw him over his body. Everyone else was in similar situations, a number of fights blooming all over the lab. I felt someone grab my shoulder, and I dodged them and sucker-punched them in the face. Dive-rolling to avoid another attack, I swiped a hand across one of the tables, breaking beakers and chemical tools. We came here to destroy things.

I crawled underneath a lab table, hiding from our attackers in hopes to complete our mission and escape alive.

Escaping seemed near impossible. We are gravely outnumbered. As I continued to crawl under the tables, breaking things as I went, I felt a hand wrap around my ankle. Unable to escape the death grip, I struggled against the man holding me captive. Flailing and kicking wildly, I nailed him in the jaw with my heel and sprinted away from him.

I have to find Addison.

I turned around at the voice, seeing Addison wearing mock-sympathy in her features.

“Why are you doing this?” I gave my former best friend a pleading look, momentarily forgetting the chaos raging around me.

“It doesn’t matter, why, you’re losing either way.” A smirk played at her lips as I felt someone grab my wrist, violently wrenching me backwards. I couldn’t move against the grip, and I noticed the others were in similar situations. I saw Logan being dragged away, as well as Melanie fighting vigorously against someone in a lab coat.

We’ve lost.

I stop struggling and let the guard guide me to a prison cell. Our entire crew was taken down. I catch a glimpse of the outside world through a window, dark sky, broken buildings. We’re forced into small chambers, with only one window. Once we’re sat down against the wall, metal cuffs are fastened around our wrists. I hate how cold the metal is against my skin. One of the scientists enter our cells, syringes in their hands. I tried to move to avoid the injection, but I was held down firmly as the scientist eased the needle into my neck. I felt the chemical go through my bloodstream, and I felt weak. When the guard released me, I looked up at the polluted sky, but all I saw was blue and sunshine. My negativity was pushed out of my system, a wide smile painting itself on my face.

The city looks beautiful.

#short story #writing #emotionsprompt

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