#bingo board au

[boxfullaturtles]

"Red is only two but he's getting so big!" "If he keeps going at this rate, you won't be able to pick him up by the time he's five, Yoshi!" "...oh." "Ah, now, hang on, don't cry! No, no, Yoshi, don't--don't do this, don't cry! Oh no..."

am i using the @tmnt-event-blog as an excuse to explore my Choosing Hope AU? maybe. should i be writing Adagio? yes. do i regret anything? also maybe.

anyway! enjoy this little tidbit! dunno when/if i'll do another lol

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 9

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted—a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

Part 9 Practical Applications

It’s usually difficult for Steve to eat a meal in peace in the school’s dining hall. Too many of his staff see him and flock over to ask questions, or favors, or to float ideas, just trying to get their two cents in while they have him in sight. Or students will inevitably come over, wanting a word or to gush about something, complain about something else. It’s not usually a very enjoyable dining experience. Steve prefers to eat in his office.

But that evening at dinner he’s got Bucky with him, and all the staff and students seem to recognize that he’s acting as Handler to Bucky for the time being. The staff, understanding that it’s actual work, stay out of the way, and the students either avoid them with jealous glances over the special attention they think Bucky’s getting, or sympathetic glances over the punishment they think he’s receiving.

The answer is more complicated than that. Mostly, Steve just needs to spend enough time interacting with the boy to decide if Sharon really isn’t the best fit for him. A student’s relationship with their Handler is crucial to their success during their time at Carter Academy, so Steve doesn’t take the task lightly. It’s unusual but not unheard of to have to switch up a student’s assigned alpha, especially for newer students who haven’t been broken in yet. So Steve brings Bucky to the dining hall and takes over the role of Handler as he tries to get a feel for the boy. Bucky doesn’t act up as they go around and get their food and then sit down to eat, so there’s no real need for punishment of any sort. Steve pulls out his phone at the table and reviews the assessment Sharon filled out on Bucky. 

Bucky, who sits catty corner to him and eats his dinner with a far-off look in his eyes, is clearly still distracted by his body’s arousal. But somewhere halfway through the veritable mountain of macaroni he’d had Steve heap on his plate, he starts to become interested in what Steve’s doing. “What are you doing?”

Steve looks up, not having realized how focused he’d been on his work. “Sorry,” he says, tucking the phone away and going back to his own plate. “Just headmaster stuff. Lot’s to do.”

“Like what?” Bucky grumbles. “Forcing everybody to bend over and let a doctor shove—”

“That’s enough, young man,” Steve chides, though his tone is closer to fond than stern. He shakes his head with a wry smile. “More like reviewing Handler assessments. I get a progress report for every student, every week. It’s a lot to keep up on.”

“Oh.” Bucky twists his lips and goes back to poking at his plate. He seems to have come to the end of the macaroni and is being standoffish with the vegetables. “So … did Sharon do one for me?” he asks, trying (and failing) for an air of nonchalance. 

Steve nods. “Yes. She did. Quite a thorough one, in fact, since this is your first week here. New students tend to have the most behavioral issues, so they get the most attention. She made some recommendations about what she thinks will work best for you.” He stares straight at Bucky as he says it, cataloging every expression that flits across the boy’s face. Bucky doesn’t seem thrilled to hear that he’s been assessed at all, which is to be expected. Steve goes back to eating his food and waits for the inevitable next question:

“What’d she say about me?” 

He shrugs. “The usual. She noted the areas where you struggle and where you excel, what your interests are so far. She made suggestions for best discipline measures and what your daily protocols should be.”

It’s clearly the word “discipline” that brings the scowl back to Bucky’s face. He shoots Steve a peeved look and abandons his fork to the vegetables, reaching instead for one of the butter cubes on the table and unwrapping it. “So? What’d she suggest?” 

Steve sits back a little in his chair, considering him. He decides to be frank. “Spanking, for one. Though you’ll need to be assessed before we can make any determinations on how useful or not that is for you, in terms of discipline and/or protocol. Some students have a daily spanking as part of their wellness plan, others behave better with just punishment spankings when needed. It depends on the individual.” 

“What?! No !” Bucky glowers at him. “Spanking is the one fucking thing I didn’t want! … Or being naked,” he adds, after a second of thought. 

“Yes, well. We’ll see about that. It may turn out that you respond well-enough to other measures without needing to resort to corporal means. Not everyone needs it.” Bucky looks like he’s about to blow up, so Steve cuts him off by continuing, “For daily protocols, she’s suggesting lap time or kneeling time, and hand feeding for meals.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffen. “What the fuck is ‘lap time’?” he sneers, then adds, “I’m more of a reverse cowgirl type of guy.”

Steve refrains from rolling his eyes, and of course he doesn’t take the bait. “Lap time just means close bodily contact with your Handler, like snuggling. An omega’s wellbeing is greatly improved by close bodily contact with their alpha, so sometimes we schedule time for that. A lot of students get it in just before bedtime, or after their classes are over to help them calm down from the day. Has Sharon not engaged with you at all these past few days?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

Bucky makes a face. “Whatever. I’m not really into chicks like Sharon, anyways.”

Steve arches a brow. “Well that is, of course, your preference. Everybody has them. Sharon herself suggested that you might fare better with a male Handler.” Bucky’s eyes pop back up to him in surprise at that, and Steve nods. “But I’d advise you not to refer to Ms. Carter as a ‘chick’ ever again. You won’t like what happens if she hears you disrespecting her like that.”

“She said I should have a dude?”

“It’s something we’re considering,” Steve admits. “Though I’m less focused on that and more concerned that you might simply need a firmer hand. Sharon is easy to get along with, which can be helpful for some new students who are being combative and just need some space to help them adapt to the sudden change in lifestyle. But from what she’s reported, you haven’t fallen in line very well with the ‘friend’ approach.” He gives him a pointed look. “I have stricter Handlers I can pair you with, if you have a tendency to brat until you’ve received the dominance you’re itching for.”

Bucky’s face goes pink at that pronouncement. Steve sees the instinctual pleasure that peeks through for a second, before the boy is covering it up with another scowl and more defensive posture. It’s in that moment that Steve knows he’ll definitely be assigning Bucky to a more dominant, no-nonsense Handler. Bucky is exactly the type to brat until he gets put in his place, and it’d be negligent-bordering-on-cruel for Steve to ignore his needs. He’ll have to sit down in his office and choose someone later that evening. “It’s nothing to feel bad about,” he tells Bucky. “The urge to act up doesn’t mean you’re bad. It’s just a sign that you have a higher need for domination than some other omegas. And there are plenty of ways we can tailor your routine to help give you that.” 

Bucky scoffs and rolls his eyes—proving Steve’s entire point, though the kid certainly doesn’t realize it. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” he sasses, and reaches for his dinner roll. Steve snatches it off the table before he can get to it. “Hey!”

“The other protocol she recommended was hand feeding,” Steve repeats calmly. “Let's just see about that, shall we?”

“No.”

Steve gives him a real warning look this time. “Bucky, I’ve been patient with you. But you need to check your attitude real fast, or I’ll be frog marching you to the nearest spanking bench.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he immediately glances over to the spanking bench that Steve knows lives in the corner of the dining hall. “No,” he says quietly, just the threat of Steve exercising that sort of dominance over him making him turn mild and pink in the cheeks. “No.”

“Then get over here, right now.” Steve points to the floor. “Use the cushion off your dining chair to kneel at my side.”

Bucky looks mortified, but he does obey. He grabs the cushion off his chair and drops it beside Steve, and goes down heavily to his knees. Then he looks up at Steve. His pissy little expression wavers somewhat, just at being in the submissive posture. Steve gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything about it. “Just a few bites,” he tells him kindly. “I just want you to get a feel for it. See what I’m talking about.” 

“Whatever.”

Steve splits the dinner roll and butters each half of it, then rips off a small piece and brings it down for Bucky to take in his mouth. “ Aht ,” he corrects, when Bucky starts to reach with his hand. “No. Open .” He waits expectantly until Bucky parts his lips. Then holds eye contact as feeds him the piece of bread. “Good boy,” he says quietly, letting him hear the praise just as the flavors are hitting his tongue. He feeds him another piece, and then another, watching as Bucky’s posture relaxes and his eyes go heavy. Steve feels his heart squeeze in sympathy at how dominance-starved the boy clearly is. “Has anyone explained hand feeding protocol to you?” he asks quietly, ripping another bit of the roll off. Bucky takes that piece readily, and he’s busy chewing as Steve tells him, “Like I said before, most protocols are meant to reinforce reliance on your natural instincts. You have mental health needs that can only be met with domination and close contact, so things like allowing your alpha to feed you are always encouraged. It creates a physical feedback loop in your brain. It’s why you feel good right now, posturing down by my side like this.”

Bucky makes a whiny sound of complaint in his throat, but by the last bit of bread, he’s gone soft and sloe-eyed, and doesn’t seem to be thinking anything much besides how pleased he is to have his alpha feeding him. “You want dessert, Honey?” Steve asks, smiling down fondly at him. Bucky had pleaded for a slice of cake at the buffet earlier, and while Steve isn’t one to encourage sugar addictions, he’d grabbed the cake with this very idea in mind. He starts to feed small bites of it to the kid, warmth growing in his gut the more Bucky falls into accepting it. The biggest brats tend to fall the hardest, once they get what they need.

By the time the last bite has passed his lips, Bucky has all but turned to a puddle on the floor, with his chin resting against Steve’s leg and his lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he waits obediently for his alpha to feed him another bite. Swallowing heavily, Steve drags his finger through the last bit of icing on the plate and sets it gently to Bucky’s lips, cock pulsing in his underwear as he watches the boy part eagerly for it and suck his finger into his mouth. Steve grits his teeth and tries to get a hold of himself. Christ . 

Bucky whines and opens his eyes when Steve’s finger is removed. Steve pets his hair and shushes him. “That’s all there is, Honey. You did good.”

Bucky makes a grumpy sound and rubs his cheek more aggressively against Steve’s leg, and Steve raises an eyebrow. He ignores the feeling of tightness in his briefs, making a mental note to institute kneeling and hand feeding as mandatory daily protocols for this kid, since he obviously responds well to both. “Okay, Buck,” he tells him gently. “I think that’s it. Let’s get you settled for the evening.”

After dinner, the students all have a block of unstructured evening time. Some spend it working on their studies if they’ve fallen behind in a certain subject, or on protocols with their Handlers if they’re feeling extra needy, but most of the boys choose to socialize for at least an hour or two before bed. After the success at dinner, Steve allows Bucky to choose what he wants to do. Predictably, the boy decides to seek out Parker and latch onto whatever the other omega is doing. 

Thus, an hour later they find themselves in the darkened auditorium as the latest—and dumbest—Fast & Furious movie plays on the projector screen. Steve stands in the back of the room with Natasha. “I want you to encourage this friendship,” he tells her. “Parker’s done well here. His behavior modified quickly and he’s excelled academically. Plus, he’s got a good situation lined up for after graduation.”

In the dark, Natasha turns her head the barest degree. “Nothing’s been made public.”

Steve hums. “Yet.” With Parents’ weekend coming up, there will soon be multiple announcements about mates being taken. It happens every year. Students find their alphas at the matchmaking ball. Some cement their choices, some meet a number of potential suiters without locking down on any one person. But there are always some prestigious families who've make arrangements outside the school's purview. Parker falls into the first of those categories, having cultivated his relationship with the man who serves as his sponsor. Steve knows Stark hasn’t made his intentions public yet, but the time is drawing near. "His alphas will make an announcement next weekend, I'm sure."

“Stark and Potts?” Natasha murmurs. “They’re sharing, then?"

"That's the impression I got."

"Hm. A triad.” 

Steve nods primly, staring straight ahead at the movie screen where a car is being launched out of an airplane. “They’re good people. He’s an asshole, but he’ll take good care of Parker. I’ve heard good things about the wife, too.” 

Soon they’ll be two very happy alphas, married spouses with a sweet and subservient omega mate to cherish and raise their pups. It’s an old fashioned notion, certainly: two alphas, married as intellectual equals and taking on the care of an omega together. The picture perfect, white picket fence, happily ever after, pre-war ideal that people used to aspire to; born of a time when society still acknowledged the realities of the world and the needs of those living in it. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever met a two alpha triad that weren’t some version of blissfully content.

He tries not to be bitterly jealous about it.

“I want Barnes to see how easy it can be, if he just gives in. Parker will set a great example,” he declares, and Natasha nods along silently. It’s the kind of silence where Steve can tell she’s thinking something but not saying it out loud, so he refuses to look at her as he stiffly nods and changes the subject. “Good. Do you have any plans with him tonight?”

“He’s been pretty wired today. I don’t think lazing around during gym did him any favors.”

“Sorry. I told Odinson to get them moving next time they have gym.”

“We’re going to wind down with protocols after this. He’ll probably ask for an orgasm before bed.”

“And he’ll get it?”

“Oh yeah, he’ll get it,” she says, and there’s a low note to the way she says it; something covetous and very privately alpha that betrays the fact that she’s going to enjoy giving it to him. “I’ll reward him for being so friendly with the new kid, let him have a few until he gets tuckered out.” She glances over at Steve. “It could make for quite the demonstration, if your boy needs a push.”

“A demonstration." He considers it, locating Bucky’s head and shoulders up amongst the boys watching the movie. Steve's been eager to touch Bucky sexually, certainly he can’t lie to himself about that. And there's no rule that says he can't. As long as Steve isn't using the boy for his own gratification, then there's no impropriety in it. After the doctor's visit that afternoon, he knows Bucky has been struggling with keeping his composure. It’ll be delicious to watch the stubborn little thing fall apart once he gets a taste of what could be. Steve’s fingers twitch as he imagines stuffing them in Bucky's sopping wet cunt and working an orgasm or three out of him while the kid begs prettily. Fuck , he can't wait to hear the sounds he'll make ...

Steve sees that Nat’s watching him closely, realizes that he's probably scenting aroused, and he straightens and clears his throat. “Right. Well. Hm. Good idea. Let him get a look at what he’s missing. He’ll come around once I’m putting him to bed.” 

“I think you’ve been lulled into a false sense of security,” Nat says.

“Why?” 

“I read Sharon’s assessment. He’s bound to act up.”

Steve frowns. “Maybe, maybe not. Things don’t always get worse before they get better.”

“No, not always.” 

He sighs and fights the urge to rub his forehead. “Parker’s on the same hall, yeah?”

“Just a few rooms down.”

“Great. I’ll make sure we pass by at nine o’clock. Try and be in the thick of it then.”

“Sure thing.” For a moment it’s quiet, save for the ridiculously awful movie’s action sounds. Then in a different tone of voice, Natasha asks, “And ... how are things? With you?”

Steve pretends not to know what she’s really asking. “Good. Busy. Got a lot going on with parents’ weekend and all that.”

“Mmhm. And Peggy?”

“We’re liaising for parents’ weekend,” he says curtly, not wanting to get into it any further than that. Already, he knows he’s got more than one email from her waiting in his inbox. He’s been ignoring them all day, not wanting to deal with whatever problems she’s come up with now. 

“You know,” Nat says. “Just because she changed her mind doesn’t mean that you couldn’t still find yourself a nice omega to settle down with.” She pauses pointedly. “You prefer males, don’t you?”

“That’s enough, Nat,” Steve snaps, his voice cutting the tension like a knife. 

It isn’t like he hasn’t been entertaining the fantasy ever since Bucky wet submissively in his office on that first day. But he’s since talked himself out of the idea. Parents don’t pay forty grand a semester to see their children mated off to the damned headmaster. Steve doesn’t live in the same social echelon as these folks, and a stodgy middle class academic is a far cry from the types of mates that Carter Academy’s parents want for their children. Steve can only do his best for Bucky, perhaps manage to get him to behave at the parents’ weekend long enough to chat up a potential suitor or two. ( Dare to dream, at least.) 

“I’ll bring him by at nine,” Steve reiterates. “Make sure your boy’s visible from the doorway. With the way Barnes’ day has been going, he won’t be able to hold out much longer.” 

Steve is no fool. He knows that an omega can only go so long without sexual relief. And after the frustration of that afternoon’s medical exam, he’s well aware of the building levels of arousal that Bucky is experiencing.

The boy’s gorgeous floral scent has only grown richer as the evening has worn on, so much so that Steve isn't at all surprised when the kid’s little prick is sticking straight out when he strips down to take his evening shower. And he’s certainly not surprised when Bucky balks at not being left alone to wash himself. Clearly, the boy had plans for his shower time. Plans that Steve is now ruining. 

He leans against the bathroom wall and pretends to be absorbed in his phone while he waits Bucky out in their little shower stall stalemate. Bucky puts up a fuss when he realizes that Steve isn’t planning on stepping away, the horror of having lost his opportunity dawning on his face in an expression half near to nausea.

Steve smirks down at his phone and scrolls some more. “Chop chop, Kemosabe. I haven’t got all night.” He watches Bucky’s cute little backside as the kid finally deems the water hot enough and steps into the shower. His skin pinks up quickly and his hair soaks flat to his head. The slick on his thighs becomes indistinguishable from the water sluicing over his body. 

Steve watches him move about slowly, as if he's pained. His shoulders are tense, and he seems to tremble full-body for a moment as he looks down at himself—perhaps staring at his rigid little dick that he can no longer touch now that Steve is there. He all but vibrates with the arousal he’s feeling, standing still under the spray for long minutes.

“Wash yourself, Bucky,” Steve commands, not unkindly. “Or do you need me over there to assist you?” Bucky isn’t facing in his direction, but even still, Steve would bet money that he’s giving the shower wall quite a death glare right about now. Poor thing.

Bucky could cry when he realizes that Steve isn’t going to leave him alone to shower. “I can wash myself without you staring at me,” he says. “Sharon doesn’t watch me.”

“Sharon gives you too much credit,” Steve says from where he’s been leaning against the wall and dicking around on his phone, looking bored. “Now finish up.”

Bucky grits his teeth and turns back into the spray. He looks down at his cock and fights the urge to whimper. He’s so fucking hard . His underwear had had an embarrassing amount of slick on them when he took them off. And much to his mortification, Steve’s attention had gone right down to the wet spot. Bucky knows he probably imagined the heated look in the Headmaster’s eyes, but even still, having an alpha who looks like Steve watching him undress certainly hasn’t helped to calm his situation down any.

Bucky’s body feels achy and tight and too sensitive, the water hitting his prick keeping his attention down between his legs. He can feel the slick between his cheeks, but he avoids washing himself there because that’ll mean touching himself there, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop touching if he starts. The thought of Steve wrestling him out of the shower to spank him silly for stuffing his whole goddamn fist up his ass isn’t something Bucky wants to experience.

“You almost done in there?” Steve drawls from across the room, after Bucky has washed himself, after he’s shampooed and conditioned and rinsed his hair. “Gonna run out of hot water, soon.”

Bucky growls lowly and pumps more body wash out of the dispenser. “Don’t rush me.”

He looks down at himself, his whole belly clenching hard at the sight of the gel in his cupped palm and his throbbing prick right there, how easy it would be to reach down and wrap it around his cock and —

“I’m sending in a rescue mission soon,” Steve jokes, and Bucky’s eyes water with the urge to scream.

Jerking off once a day is not enough, but it’s all he has. He’d been counting on these few minutes tonight to be able to get some fucking relief! So far, his nightly showers are the only times he’s been left alone without any sort of camera or alpha surveilling him. Sharon hasn’t acted like she suspects that he’s using the opportunity to jerk off, but now Bucky’s beginning to think that she’s known all along and has tipped Steve off. 

Just a little longer, he tells himself, practicing some deep-breathing after a glancing touch to his nipples nearly pulls a whimper from him. Just a little longer and then he’ll be alone in his room, lights out, and he’ll be able to get some relief. Sure, there are cameras, but if he angles himself just right under the blankets and doesn’t move too much, he thinks can get away with it. Someone would have to be watching his bedroom camera like a hawk to see. 

“Bucky,” Steve warns. “You’re not even washing yourself. Come on.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hang on !” He gets more shower gel from the dispenser and starts soaping himself up all over again—fastidiously avoiding his chest and anywhere between his belly button and his knees.

It's awful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s gone more than eight hours without masturbating since the day he turned thirteen, and now it’s closing in on a full twenty-four hours since he’s had any relief. His entire pelvis feels full and heavy at this point. It’s an ache second only to what heat feels like, and he has to continually remind himself not to let his vocal cords tighten up into the instinctual keen that wants to come. 

What makes it even worse is that there’s an alpha right there. And unfortunately and mortifyingly, that alpha is Steve. The man is leaning against the bathroom wall, perfectly willing and capable of getting Bucky off if Bucky asks him to. The one reprieve of the shower is that it gets some distance between the two of them. Bucky can’t smell Steve's scent from under the spray of the water, but he knows he’ll have to face it again as soon as he gets out.

Which is why he’s delaying getting out. Insisting that he didn’t want Steve to finger fuck him over that medical bench had been the most painfully counter-intuitive thing Bucky thinks he’s ever done in his life. But he hadn’t wanted to give the alpha the satisfaction of knowing how bad he needs it, hadn’t wanted to prove him right in his misogynistic beliefs. So what if Bucky’s horny a lot of the time and needs to jerk off three or four (... sometimes five) times a day? It’s normal for an omega, doesn’t mean he’s as desperate and helpless and useless as Steve and everybody else at this school thinks he is, doesn’t mean he needs anybody or anything other than his right hand. Alphas jerk off too, he thinks mulishly. Don’t see anybody telling Steve he’s not allowed to pull the pud whenever he wants.

Bucky all but jumps out of his skin when Steve’s hand appears in front of his face, shirt sleeve rolled up and the hairs on his forearm getting wet as he shuts off the water.  Bucky spends a very brief second admiring the way the veins line the alpha’s strong forearm before he remembers to be upset. “Hey!” He whirls around to glare at him. “I wasn’t done .”

“You’re done,” Steve says, looking amused. Bucky’s belly flips when he notices the alpha’s gaze dragging down his naked, wet body, lingering on his still-hard prick. “Clean as a whistle,” he murmurs, something dark and interested flashing in his eyes before he turns to grab a towel. “Come on. Time to get settled.” 

Bucky dries off and wraps the towel around his waist for the walk back down the hall to his room. He’s eager to be left alone so that he can finally get his hand on his —

“Oghn!”

He freezes in place as they’re passing Peter’s room, barely noticing that Steve almost runs into him from how suddenly he’s stopped. “Buck?” Steve says, but Bucky only half processes it because his ears are ringing as all the blood rushes out of his head and down to more important places. 

Like all the other bedrooms in the dormitory, Peter’s room has no door. So Bucky has a perfectly clear view of what’s going on inside. He’s come to a dead stop just outside the door frame, and he whimpers without meaning to as he’s confronted with the sight of Peter, bent over the side of his bed, facedown in the comforters while Natasha stands behind him and …

“Nnngh, Nat, yesss. Fffuuhh—”

Bucky’s knees go weak, and the only thing that keeps him from dissolving into a puddle of slick on the floor is Steve’s hands on his waist. “Whoa there, Bud.”

Bucky makes a noise of distress in his throat at the feeling of Steve supporting him against his hard body. He thinks the alpha will pull him along, tell him not to look, but instead Steve holds him up and lets him watch. “Night time expression,” he says quietly, as if what they’re seeing is completely normal.

“What,” Bucky rasps, having to try again when his speech initially fails him. “But that … that … ahm, that’s allowed?”

Steve chuckles, the low rumble of it felt against Bucky’s back. “What? The hook? It’s just an aid, Honey. Helps to get the glands wrung out real good and proper.” Bucky makes a small choking noise as Steve says it, the alpha’s fingers gripping him a little firmer at the words ‘wrung out’. Steve notices and chuckles. “The glands inside of you are your biggest sexual organs, did you know that? The prostate alone is three times the size of a beta male’s. That’s why you can’t go for long without relief, it’s just biology.”

Without thinking of what he’s doing, Bucky’s one hand slides over the towel to in-between his legs, cupping himself from over the terrycloth for the briefest of moments before Steve tuts and takes hold of his wrist. He gently but firmly moves his hand away from his aching prick, and Bucky keens miserably. “Shh,” Steve soothes. “None of that, now. That’s not allowed and you know it, Bucky.”

“But I need to,” he whines.

“So you ask for help ,” Steve corrects. He gives him a comforting squeeze. “I told you that you can always ask your Handler for help with your sexual urges. That’s part of what they’re here for. Just like you have nonsexual submissive needs, it’s completely natural to need to orgasm a few times a day. You just have to accept that it’s someone else’s job to give it to you. You need to submit .”

“Yeah, but …” Bucky licks his lips and tries to avert his eyes several times, but he’s unable to look away for long. He’s starting to wonder if maybe Steve knows about his jerking it on the sly in the bathroom these past few days. “I don’t … I, um.” It’s not his fault that his brain is leaking out of his ears. Not when faced with this .

Peter is fully naked where he’s bent over the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed shut and hands gripping the blankets. His whole body is flushed, but the skin of his backside is noticeably darker than the rest of him, stained deep pink from an—ostensibly very recent—spanking. Bucky gets a brief glimpse of what could be dried tear tracks on the boy’s cheeks, but if he was crying, it seems to have little bearing on his enjoyment of what’s happening now, as he gasps and moans and presses back into the curve of the metal hook that Natasha has buried up inside him. Bucky can’t see much of it, just the way that Natasha is tug, tug, tugging on it in tiny little motions, rocking it inside Peter's body. But just imagining what it must feel like is enough to have Bucky’s own hole clenching down needily on nothing. God, it would be so firm, wouldn't it? It'd get right at it ...

Natasha picks something else up from the bed: a little egg shaped thing. Bucky just about has a cataplexy when she pushes a button on it and the thing starts thrumming in a heavy, pulsing vibration. “Ohmygod,” he whispers, watching with wide eyes as she holds it against the part of the hook just outside Peter's body, letting the vibrations travel through it. Bucky feels his body release a fresh wave of slick at the faint sound of it and how he can instantly imagine how it must feel . 

He thinks about the toy he’s smuggled in, in his suitcase. Nobody’s found it yet. He hasn’t been able to use it since arriving there, but watching Peter get his prostate pounded so thoroughly makes him suddenly desperate to have something up there, filling him up and drilling away the ache that these miserable one-wank-a-day days have left him with. It’s been almost a week since he’s had anything inside him, and he feels saliva pool in his mouth as he envisions how he might be able to slip his dildo out from its hiding spot that night and use it under his blankets, after lights out. He thinks about the soft, firm, rubber head, and how it’ll feel to rub it against his rim and tease himself for a while before finally shoving it inside and relishing in that first, delicious stretch. … Though ... it'd be pretty nice to have an alpha to rock a hard metal ball directly against his prostate, too.

“This is part of his routine,” Steve’s murmuring, his quiet voice pulling Bucky back from his thoughts. “Parker is high energy, low self control. He’s … spastic. Anxious. Like you. This helps to settle him.”

“I’m not—”

“See his backside?” Steve continues, ignoring Bucky’s weak interruption. “That’s one of his protocols. A nice, steady spanking—therapeutic, mind you, not punishment. You’d be amazed how much relief you can get from a session. Tomorrow I’ll assess you to see if it’s something we should implement.” Bucky makes a squeak of protest and Steve shushes him with a gentle squeeze to his waist. “Don’t worry, Honey. It’s not like you’re imagining. Punishment spanking isn’t at all like therapeutic spanking. They're two completely different creatures.”

“H-how?” Bucky’s eyes fall back to Peter’s butt, darker pink than the rest of him. It looks angry, like it must hurt a lot. He stares at Natasha’s slender hand and her hand on the toy, tug, tug, tugging …

“It starts off slower, for one. Very light and gentle at first.” Steve’s fingers curl in more securely when Bucky squirms in distress, holding him still. “Shh sh sh. It’s alright. Look at him: does he look upset?” 

Bucky sniffles and tries to look away. “Lemme go.”

“Your Handler will have you bend over the bed, like he’s doing,” Steve keeps explaining. “It builds up gradually. You’ll be comfortable. They’ll start soft and build up the force until you’re overwhelmed but not in pain. It won’t hurt.” 

“That makes no sense ,” Bucky complains, though the ache in his pelvis is heavier and tighter than ever at hearing Steve murmur the explanations against the shell of his ear. He imagines what it would be like to be spanked by Steve; held down firmly and soothed with cooing, sympathetic words like Natasha is giving Peter right now.

“Poor baby, you really needed this, huh? Could hardly put two sentences together since dinner, you’re so wound up. That’s how I know you’re gettin’ tired, need to let it all go and stop thinking n’ just feel.”

“Nat. Can’t … can’t, nnngh …”

“Shhh. There’s a good girl. It’s okay, just relax and let it happen. I know it feels good, Honey, I know. Alpha’s got you. It’s okay to cry. It’s a lot, I know.” 

Bucky looks down at where Steve is holding his waist. He admires the shape of those strong hands, his thick fingers and sturdy wrists, the veins against the skin … He swallows heavily and imagines Steve's palm coming down on his backside again and again, imagines what it would feel like, what it would look like. And— Oh god, fuck. Steve’s got such big hands. It'd be so solid .

A low keen breaks from the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he bites down on his lip, still not able to tear his eyes away from Natasha and what she’s doing to Peter. “I don't understand,” he says miserably. “No. You're lying."

"Lying about what, Baby?"

"About, about ... that," he grits. "How can it not hurt?”

Against his ear, Steve’s condescending chuckle makes his belly clench and his asshole release another obscene wave of slick. “You’ll see. It’s because of the pace, and the way your brain reacts to the physical dominance. Endorphins build up and are released before you can start to feel any real pain. The skin warms and you sink into it, kind of like a trance. By the time you’re getting real hits, you’re already high. Some students are able to orgasm from it.” Bucky shudders, and Steve hums. “It’ll be comfortable. You won’t be restrained. Your Handler won’t be angry with you. It isn’t discipline, that’s not the point. It’s to help you feel good and keep you healthy.”

Another whine is building in Bucky’s throat and he’s fighting to hold it back because he doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction of knowing how much this is affecting him. Though really, he figures Steve must know—from his scent alone, if nothing else. Bucky's freshly showered, but underneath the towel there’s new slick trickling down his inner thighs, wet and sticky, and there's no question that Steve can smell it. Bucky rubs his legs together uncomfortably, cringing at the messy feeling.

In the bedroom, Natasha turns up the vibrations, and Peter lets out a pornographic moan and arches his back even more. “Ohnn! Nat, Nat, Nat.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmnnn, feel’s’good …” He squirms and writhes, starting to cry helplessly when Natasha abandons the hook and pulls both hands back, no longer rocking the toy into him. She tuts and hushes him almost mockingly as he gets red in the face and wiggles around, trying to move the metal ball inside himself but unable to do it. “Nnnnh!” he cries desperately, prompting Natasha to pet his back and shush him,

“You’re okay. You’ve got it. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Nnnoooo,” he cries miserably, hips working, shoving back in vain to try and work the hook in the same way she'd been doing.

“No? You want to stop?”

“Please, please. Don’sstop.”

Bucky's heart leaps at the sight of the hook going into Peter's hole, the helpless clenching of his wet and swollen rim as his body grasps it, trying to stimulate himself to no avail. Once again, Bucky's knees go weak and Steve is the only thing keeping him upright. Meanwhile Peter’s practically nonverbal, upset and desperate for the stimulation he needs. Natasha coos and rubs his back, encouraging him to ask for what he needs. “C’mon Pete. It’s okay. Tell me what you need. Remember to ask the right way. That’s all you have to do.”

Peter nods frantically, hips still working, eyes opening and closing sightlessly. He's crying sluggish tears now as he begs, “Help, please, help. Nat. Nnnn. Need you. Please Alpha.”

“Theere’s the magic word,” Natasha praises, her hand going back down to grasp the hook. She begins to rock it again and Peter sobs in gratitude. Natasha smiles and laughs fondly. “There you go, I’ve got you. I know you can’t do it yourself. Poor dumb baby. Just get too overwhelmed to know what to do, don't you? Need Alpha's help to make it go away.”

Against the pillow, Peter moans and drools and nods his head. “Yeah, y-yeah. Ongh …”

It’s too much. Bucky’s hips judder in Steve’s hands, his body literally unable to stay still when he’s this aroused. He knows that Steve can tell how bad it is, but the alpha doesn’t tease him. He just holds him and talks to him quietly as they both watch what’s going on. “You like that?” he asks, watching the scene alongside Bucky and humming knowingly when Bucky lies and shakes his head no. “It’s been a long day for you,” he says, a degree of kindness in his voice that, for all the heaviness in Bucky’s belly, still manages to make him feel thin and brittle and liable to break apart. “I want you to have some relief, Bucky. I can tell this is hurting you. So when we get to your room, if you need, you can bend over the edge of the bed just like that. Okay? Then all you have to do is ask nicely.”

Bucky moans, he can’t help it. He wants that so bad. Even just Steve’s big hands on his waist feel so good, making him yearn for more. “No,” he rasps, only to feel Steve’s chiding rumble against his back. 

“You don’t have to do that, Honey. It’s okay to give in.” 

“Nnn.”

“ Look at him.” Steve urges, nodding at the bedroom. “Don't you see how she is with him? How gentle? It’s not just about sexual release. It’s about that closeness, that care. Trusting your alpha enough to let them give that to you. That’s an important aspect of an omega’s wellbeing. It literally keeps your brain balanced the right way.” 

“I know,” Bucky grits. “We learned about it in science class." (Fucking right-wing, bullshit science class.)

“Good.”

In the bedroom, Peter is whining and mewling and moaning, and Natasha is so caring and attentive , telling Peter that he’s good and that he can let go and come whenever he wants to. “Whenever you’re ready, Pete. Just close your eyes and let it happen.”

Bucky’s eyes are filling with confused, anguished tears from watching it, a soul-deep yearning he doesn’t even understand swelling up inside him and making it hard to think. It just looks so safe and warm and good , what Peter has with Natasha, and he wants it. He wants to know what that feels like.

On his hip, Steve’s one hand edges inwards, fingers glancing over the tent that his prick is making underneath the towel. Bucky whines in frustration and Steve hushes him. “Stop. C’mon. How long do really think you can keep this up, hm? How long are you going to fight it?”

Bucky grinds his teeth even as he can feel his eyes stinging from the tears he’s trying not to cry, from how bad he wants it. “Forever,” he grits, though that’s a fucking lie and they both know it.

Maybe Steve has already figured out his plans to jerk off at lights out, who knows? He tuts at Bucky's defiance, and meanwhile in the room in front of them, Natasha is curling further over Peter’s back, sort of lying up alongside him. Peter’s eyes are glazed and he’s drooling on the pillow, dumb to anything but the climax he’s nearing. The closer he gets the calmer he seems to get, relaxing instead of straining, body going limp and letting Natasha do all the work.

“Good boy,” she purrs when he goes soft for it. She sets the vibrator against the hook again, speaking in an extended litany of gentle praise. Bucky can’t make out the words anymore, but whatever she’s saying, it makes Peter cry and shiver and nod, followed by more of her pleased hums and encouraging alpha sounds.

“ —‘pha,” Peter slurs, rubbing his face against the sheets as Nat’s hand works down below, keeping the toy seated deep and tug, tug, tugging against that spot inside. “Mmm. Please, please, yeah …” Peter looks and sounds like he’s completely sure that he’s going to get what he wants, that Natasha is going to give him what he needs , and seeing it makes Bucky burn with a wave of emotion that he only belatedly recognizes as jealousy.

He jerks in place, angry at himself and wanting to get away from the sight of it, but Steve’s strong hands hold him fast, not allowing him to avoid witnessing the display of what he’s missing out on. “No,” Steve says sternly, holding him still. “Watch it.” And Bucky can’t pull away. He’s forced to stay standing there in the alpha’s arms, face flaming, the sheer intimacy of what he’s witnessing with Steve making lust coil heavy in his guts, weighing heavy, heavy ; aching deep in the cradle of his pelvis.

Every gentle word and gesture that Natasha gives Peter makes him think of what it’d be like to have that with someone, what it’d feel like to have an alpha curl over him and purr at him and care for him so completely. A pit of yearning is opening up in his mind, cavernous and gaping and awful.  Briefly, he thinks of Brock and the few times that the older boy had been there when Bucky really needed it, how he’d fucked him hard and knotted fast and then pulled out before it was completely down because he had to get to practice, and wasn’t Bucky just grateful that he was there wasting time on his heat anyways?

He cries out when one of Steve’s hands readjusts on his hip and nudges his cock in the process. Steve gives an infuriatingly smug chuckle by his ear. “Pete’s a nice kid,” he says. “He was like you at first, you know. Angry, resistant, fought everything tooth and nail. Till he figured out that we were just trying to help him, to give him what he needs. Cause once you get a taste of what it's really like, you never want to go back. And now look at him: He’s happy, balanced, an A-student with a mate lined up for after graduation.”

Bucky shivers at the word 'mate', trying and failing to look away from the pair on the bed. He feels Steve’s breath hit his neck and is struck by the indelible urge to have the alpha cover his body the way that Natasha is covering Peter’s. And Steve is so much bigger than Natasha. Steve could really cover him ...

“Look at him,” Steve urges. “Getting everything he needs, because he asked. That could be you.” Bucky whines and jerks in his hold and Steve’s fingers dig in. “It’s that easy, Little one. All you have to do is admit it. Stop fighting everything so hard. You’ll be amazed how much easier it gets once you just let us help you .”

Bucky tries to think of something to say back to that, but he’s slogging through a brain gone mostly to soup, and before anything is forthcoming, Peter starts to come. He moans and shudders, and Natasha works him through it with those same deep rocking motions. It seems to go on forever, and when it’s over she eases the hook out of him and sets it aside, sits on the bed and has him lie there with his head in her lap. She strokes his hair and tells him nice things.

“Okay. Come on.” Steve guides Bucky away from the doorway, back down the hall and to his room. He steers him over to the bed and presses down on his shoulders, gently urging him to sit. 

Bucky hisses at the thrum of intensified arousal that comes just from Steve forcefully moving him and his butt meeting the bed. He fights the urge to squirm down against the mattress, but it’s hard. There’s slick between his cheeks that makes him want to writhe. He wants to rub his ass back against the blankets, hard, wants to purr and luxuriate in the feeling of soft things sliding against his skin. He wants to yank all the covers down and bunch them up between his thighs and squeeze , hump on them like an animal until he bursts.

But even more than that, he thinks he wants to hear Steve’s Voice praising him while he does it.

Steve surprises him by taking a knee right there beside the bed. He puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs and rubs up and down in a move that is probably meant to be soothing, but does nothing but make Bucky’s belly swoop with pleasure. He’s still got the towel wrapped around his hips, his prick an obscene little poke beneath the material. Steve is looking at it. “Last chance, Honey,” he says. “Do you want to bend over like Peter?” 

Bucky feels like he’s watching somebody else shake their head no, because everything in him is screaming for him to nod his head yes. Just a few minutes longer, he reminds himself. Just until lights-out. “No,” he breathes, and watches as surprise flashes in Steve’s eyes—though it quickly fades into something like disappointment. He almost looks pained for Bucky. He looks sorry for him.

“Okay,” he says, nodding grimly. “Okay Honey. That’s your choice. But you know the rules, right?” He gives him a pointed look. “The cameras are always on. You’re not going to get away with anything. Someone will come in here and restrain you if you try.” 

“Restrain?” Bucky asks worriedly, eyes flicking over to the cameras in the corner.

“Yes. So behave yourself. Your Handler will be in tomorrow morning. You can ask them for help then, if you need it.” 

“Sharon?” he asks dumbly, because that’s what comes to mind, but Steve shakes his head.

“No. Someone else. I’m assigning you a new Handler.” 

“What? But …”

“No buts.” Steve gives his leg an encouraging pat. “It’s not a bad thing. We’re just trying to find the right fit for you.”

“Sharon fits fine ,” Bucky snaps, thinking that at least he’s able to manipulate her a little bit. If he gets someone else, he may not be able to get away with his clandestine shower jerkoff sessions anymore. “Sharon fits,” he insists again. “She does.”

“You need a firmer hand, and you obviously respond better to males.”

“What? I do not .” Bucky deflates when Steve continues to stare at him knowingly. “Whatever,” he sulks. “It doesn’t matter who you assign me to. I’m still not gonna be how you want me to be.”

Steve stills, looking sad. “And how do I want you to be, hm?”

Bucky looks away, cowed by Steve’s intense eye contact. “Dunno,” he mumbles. “Just … like this .” He wiggles his hips uncomfortably. “Helpless. Needing an alpha. Pathetic.” For a few long seconds, Steve stays kneeling there, completely still, not saying anything. Bucky peeks at him and then quickly looks away again. He squirms self-consciously. “ What ?”

Steve inhales deeply and then reaches up. Bucky tenses, anticipating his displeasure, but Steve isn’t displeased. He’s just reaching for the collar on Bucky’s neck. “Let’s take this off for bed,” he says quietly. 

Heart in his throat, Bucky waits as the alpha maneuvers it around with deft fingers and undoes the buckle. There’s something so incredibly intimate about sitting there and allowing him to do it. It makes dread and desire war with each other deep in Bucky’s gut. He swallows compulsively once the collar is off, relearning the feel of himself without the leather band around his throat, fighting not to bring his hand up to touch the empty space where it was. He won’t admit that it feels like a loss, but it does. 

Steve sets the collar aside and turns back to cup the front of Bucky’s throat, this time with nothing between his hand and the bare skin. His thumb brushes back and forth over Bucky’s bonding glands. “It’s good to take a break, to maintain its effectiveness. Your body adjusts to the dopamine rush too much if you wear it twenty-four seven.”

Overly-sensitive, Bucky shivers at the sensation of Steve’s thumb swiping over his glands. A tiny, needy sound escapes his throat without his permission, and he peeks up at Steve to find the alpha staring at his neck. 

“You’re not pathetic, Honey. I'm sorry that other people have taught you to think that way about something that's natural for you. Something that's supposed to be beautiful.” He slowly applies pressure with his thumb, frowning when Bucky gasps and then whines pitifully. “You're swollen," he murmurs. He sounds displeased. "Has Sharon helped you at all since you got here?” 

“No,” Bucky whispers, which isn’t a lie. She hasn’t. But only because he's turned her down at every single offer. Bucky goes tight lipped, since admitting that to Steve feels like admitting that he’s broken the rules already. They both know it’d be near impossible for him to have gone four days without any sexual release whatsoever.

Steve doesn’t acknowledge it, though. He circles the pad of his thumb more firmly over Bucky's glands, massaging and looking thoughtful. He presses a little more, and a little more ...

Eventually it becomes too much to bear and elicits a tortured whimper from Bucky. “Nnh! Stop .” He slaps Steve’s wrist, and is surprised when the alpha lets go. Steve pulls his hand back to himself. Bucky swallows nervously, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to hit.”

“It’s okay. I know this is hard for you.” 

Steve won’t stop staring, and Bucky hates it. He flinches from the scrutiny and looks at Steve’s body instead, taking in the nicely tailored clothes he wears: the front of his dress shirt, his pants. The fabric pulls taught against the strong, thick lines of his thigh muscles, but Bucky is disappointed to find that the alpha isn’t visibly hard. He looks back up, and Steve’s eyes catch on his. Bucky gulps. “I … I’m tired,” he says. "I'd like to go to bed now."

Steve’s mouth quirks. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” 

They both know he’s lying, but Steve doesn’t call him out on it. “Your Handler will be here in the morning,” he tells him again. “He’ll help you. Just behave yourself and ask nicely.”

Bucky’s face burns. Like hell is he going to bend over and beg for an anal hook fucking from a stranger before breakfast. He’ll handle it tonight, himself , just as soon as Steve’s out of the room. “Kay,” he says, avoiding any further eye contact, because every time he meets Steve's gaze he feels like the alpha knows exactly what he's planning. “S’fine,” he says. "You can go." Steve doesn’t move to leave, and he smells kind of melancholy, too, which makes confusion and worry twist in Bucky’s gut. “Are you mad at me?” he asks. Steve doesn’t smell mad, but the way he’s just kneeling there, and staring …

“No, Buck. I’m not mad.”

Bucky huffs. “Well what then?”

Steve’s hand cups him underneath his jaw and angles his face towards him. “Look me in the eyes,” he commands quietly, and Bucky’s breath hitches. He wasn’t expecting Steve to Voice, and the sound of it has him visibly reacting, goosebumps erupting across his skin. If he isn’t mistaken, Steve’s eyes get a little more heated. The alpha rumbles in approval. “I asked you a question the other day,” he says. “In my office. Do you remember?”

Bucky shakes his head dumbly, but in his defense, there’s a lot that he can’t remember right now. “Uhm …”

“I asked you a question and told you to think on it for a while before you answered,” he reminds.

Against Steve’s hand, Bucky swallows. “Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah. Y-you asked …” He squirms uncomfortably as he recalls the loaded question Steve had asked him that day. “Mmn.” He shakes his head.

“Tell me, Baby. What did I ask you to think about?”

“Dunno,” he mumbles, which is another obvious lie.

Steve tuts softly and circles his thumb over his glands again. “I asked you to think about when the last time was that you were really, truly happy.” A—

Bucky frowns as he thinks about the answer to that question. It’s not an answer he wants to give. He’s not even sure he knows the answer. But he knows it’s not a good answer. Because Steve asked about when he’d been truly happy long term , not just happy in the moment over one thing or another. " Settled "—that’s the word he’d used. When was the last time Bucky felt truly happy and content; settled in his own skin?

His lip trembles as he admits to himself that it’s been a long, long time.

A.N.: Uh, yeah I know it's an awkward place to end, but it was getting stupid-long and I still have a lot left to go in this scene and the next, so the next part will be a separate chapter.

T.W.: The next chapter will contain explicit mentions and depictions of past cutting scars.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

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This has been a fill for @allcapsbingo, card: sarahyellow (AC1105), square N5: anal hook.

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

More Mood Board Madness

The three bingos I co-mod, @marvelrarepairbingo, @scottsummersbingo, and @scoganbingo, are running the Mood Board Madness game again, this time all with the lists of prompts to choose from. I still want to do more for all three, and still need to do at least one for Scogan, but here are the ones for the Scott Summers Bingo and the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo.

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No real write-up for this one. Just pretty images of pretty boys and cute kids. Scott Summers and Tony Stark taking their little family away on a beach vacation. For the Mood Board Madness prompt: Baby/Kids (Parent).

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I got a little carried away on the concept write-up, so I had to save it as an image in order to post it to the MRP Discord, so here it is. Definitely will become a fic on this one at some point. Because I don't have enough WIPs, yanno? For the Mood Board Madness prompts: Horror Movie and Hallmark Romance. (I know what I said.)

Text of the story concept image under the read more.

Concept: James Barnes, drafted into the Army at 25 to fight in a war he had no desire to contribute to, found himself going from private to sergeant not long after setting foot in Viet Nam. He was set to lead a 'special battalion', given so-called special tasks in the darker, unmapped jungles. Like his men, he never understood what made them so special - nobody grunts who hadn't finished (or even gone) to college, made it through high school by the skin of their teeth, and none claiming any sweethearts back home. James only had his mom, sister Becky, and his best friend Steve, who'd wanted so badly to enlist, but due to health issues and him being a straight A student in college, he didn't have to worry about serving at all.

They'd been given all their usual inoculations and some the Army said hadn't even been introduced to the populace as they were specific to protect them from the unknown diseases lying in wait where they were being sent to. The battalion, self-named the Howling Commandos, saw some of the nastiest battles of the war, many of them coming at them in the dead of night. The men were ferocious in battle, never losing, even tearing the enemy limb from limb. They awoke amid bodies that looked as if wild animals had torn into them with their teeth. The longer they were in those jungles, the more vicious they became until one morning, James woke up with only two other survivors from his battalion, and they couldn't remember what happened. After they were sent home, only flashbacks awaited them. After a year of those flashbacks, James was left the sole survivor as Dum Dum and Jim Morita couldn't live with the memories of what they'd done. Of who they ate. James hated those memories, but he dug his heels in, learned to live with what the Army had turned him into with their "inoculations," and decided he didn't mind the taste of human flesh.

It made dating difficult, however, over the years. Not many women or men would've been too happy to learn they were falling in love with a cannibal. Even if James stuck to eating the worst of the worst of society, dining on humans didn't exactly make him boyfriend material. He was grateful when the internet was invented, especially the chat rooms - especially especially the type to draw the darker souls in, the ones he could share his deepest, darkest secret, the one he'd never even been able to stell Stevie about.

It took a year, year and a half, but he met him. The stranger who only called himself Loki, like the Norse Trickster god. He'd spoken up only after James had tossed out a question that most others had taken as a joke - "What do I do with all the blood?" To James' surprise, Loki had the perfect solution to his actual problem.

Loki was a vampire.

It wasn't long before they were speaking in private chat rooms, just the two of them. Sharing jokes, Loki trading recipes for the cannibal's kitchen in exchange for new places to hunt. Okay, so maybe at first, James thought Loki was full of shit - one of those Anne Rice wannabe vampire nutjobs who dressed in goth clothes all the time, pretending to drink blood out of wine glasses, but he never wanted to call the guy out on it in case Loki slapped back by calling him Hannibal in a less than affectionate way.

And then they met face to face. James suggested it first, and after some gentle coaxing (maybe a little begging - what? James was desperate for anyone who could understand him, and for all he adored his best friend, Steve had enough going on in his life with his art showings and taking care of his sick Ma to have to deal with his fucked up monster of a friend), Loki agreed. They met at an all-night diner tucked away in an old Brooklyn neighborhood. When James saw Loki sitting in the booth near the window, he had to smile - he definitely looked like the vampire sort - long dark hair and striking light green eyes, skin the color of the palest coffee milk, an imported Turkish cigarette dangling from his lips. Well, he either looked like a vampire or a musician, though James was pretty sure they weren't mutually exclusive. He sat down, ordered coffee and a steak - bloody rare - and took note that Loki was only drinking coffee with a glass of water next to it. They hit it off right away, and if nothing else, James thought it'd be nice to have a weird and dark-minded new friend to hang out with, though damn the guy was hot, and he'd love to fall in love. He'd love to have someone to fall in love with who'd at least understand that maybe he just had a dark sense of humor about eating people. James glanced out the window at the people walking by on the street, and noticed -

Loki didn't have a reflection.

It's 2024. James and Loki have been together all this time. After going out for two years, they finally moved in together. James went to school to become a chef, and Loki could easily bankroll a posh apartment in Manhattan, though they sprung for an old brownstone that gave them all the room they required for their dietary needs. James never had to worry about what to do with all that blood anymore, and in fact, he might've come up with one or two creative ways to feed it to his boyfriend.

[scottxlogan]

This moodboard and summary was written for the @marvelrarepairbingo to the prompts: Bruce Banner/Pepper Potts (Soul mates AU, Diner AU). (Summary under the cut)

Twenty years ago, Pepper Potts was a young, ambitious law student looking to make a name for herself in the city, but when her path crossed with Bruce Banner, a science buff with a penchant for comedy, sparks ignite, and a passionate romance follows. Together the two come into a relationship in the city when Pepper is working at a tiny diner working to improve her culinary skills and hoping to make ends meet to pay for her education. After that first meeting, the instant spark brings them together outside of the diner experiencing the ups and downs of love and romance, feeling as if they were brought together by a cosmic force and meant to spend their lives together as soulmates. Over time Pepper begins to question if she’s following the right path when her passion for cooking seems to guide her further from her law studies and into something far more comforting in walking away from the expectations the world has put upon her. Bruce continues to be her support system, encouraging her to follow her dreams and the two continue sharing a quiet life in the city. Things are going great until after one stressful day in the lab Bruce steps away from his flourishing science career to pursue a life of stand-up comedy that brought him to the city to begin with. In doing so he begins to experience the pitfalls of life on the road and time in places where the world isn’t quite as joyful as he’d hoped. Getting deeper into the comedy scene, Bruce begins to pull away from his life with Pepper and the two become estranged from one another as she seeks out a sense of stability and returns to her law career. When it’s clear that their paths no longer align the two call it off and part ways vowing to remain friends, but as with all promises their lives take them down different roads leaving all their hopes of staying connected behind.

Twenty years later Pepper’s a widowed mother to a daughter lost in her grief and looking to redefine who she wants to be moving forward after the loss she’s facing. Without her husband’s presence in her life to guide her towards chasing her dreams, Pepper decides to follow the last advice that her late husband gave her to follow her heart and she throws caution to the wind return to her earlier dreams to explore her abandoned culinary talents. With more money than she knows what to do with in her husband’s passing, Pepper opens a vegan restaurant in the city that turns out to be an overnight success and a hotspot where one day she reunited with her former flame, who is now divorced and working as writer for one of the top medical dramas on television putting both his love of comedy and science skills to good use. Despite the fact that life has pulled them in different directions, Bruce has never stopped thinking about the life he walked away from with Pepper and finds himself at a crossroads hoping to find renewed happiness at her side. The soon two realize that despite the decades of lived lived apart between them, the spark is still there and there’s no denying their connection as soulmates as they navigate their way around love hoping to find a second chance at the happily ever after that slipped out of their reach years earlier.

[newtedison]

rarepair bingo "they never meet in canon"

so as happened with the maze women last year, i ended up writing more than i planned on and therefore my teresa/beth fic that was going to be in both the "they never meet in canon" and "be the first to write a ship" spots for @mazerunner-rarepairs is not going to be finished until after may. however i refuse to not get bingo so i am going to post a snippet from the fic here with a promise that the entire fic will come some time in june, most likely.

context: this is a Station Eleven-type apocalypse where a massive pandemic killed most people.

~~~

“So, doctor, why aren’t you in a settlement?” Beth asks. She crosses her arms, and Teresa is reminded of how strong she looks. “You don’t see many solo travelers these days, unless they’ve been kicked out of somewhere.”

Teresa takes a breath, prepared to recite her usual speech.

“This is what I do. Most places I’ve been to don’t have many people with medical knowledge, so I travel around and help where I can. All I ask in return is a safe place to sleep for a few days and whatever food you can spare. I’ll patch up your wounded, do general checkups, whatever you need. It’s my way of making my survival matter.”

That gets Beth to raise an eyebrow, curious but not enough to drop her guard. 

“Elaborate on that,” she asks, though it sounds more like a command.

“On my survival mattering?” Beth nods. “Well, I kind of got lucky with where I was on the day it all fell, I was remote with a lot of food. I figured if I was given the chance to live when almost everyone else didn’t, I had to make it count for something. And what I’m best at is healing.”

“But why not just stay at one settlement and help them? Why risk it by traveling alone?”

“People need my help everywhere.”

Beth purses her lips, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. Her eyes squint with suspicion, and Teresa is suddenly nervous. It’s getting late. She’d have enough food thanks to that house if she had to double back now, but only just. 

If they let her leave alive at all.

“I don’t get it,” Beth states. A breeze picks up and moves the loose strands around her head, her face aflame. “There’s no self-preservation in this. There’s no community, either. Who exactly are you doing this for?”

Teresa falters. “For everyone. Everyone who’s left.”

[transingthoseformers]

Thinking thoughts about the vehicons and goofy fandom stuff

[kakaitaweek]

KakaIta Week Prompts are here!

Let’s see if we can make Bingo again this year 🥳

Twitter | Ask Box | Carrd

[nikayna]

Another mood board for @stonyauniverse, fulfilling the square AU: Mad Scientist

SHIELD thought it was a lost cause. Tony wouldn't rest until he'd finally perfected the captain. Steve wouldn't rest until he'd burnt everything to the ground.

[reiderwriter]

💫 Starry-Eyed 💫

Pairing: Porn Star! Spencer Reid x fem! Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Summary: For work experience, you take a job working the cameras on a porn shoot, but after becoming suddenly attracted to a new coworker, you shortly find yourself as a fluffer, the person whose job it is to keep the "talent" aroused between takes.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Porn AU, College AU kinda, exhibitionism, oral sex (f receiving), consensual voyeurism, masturbation (male), blow job, deep throating, messy orgasm.

A/N: Well, look at where we are. I think this actually counts as my first Alternate Universe fic, which is crazy all things considered. I'm really enjoying the Kink Bingo Challenge as it's leading me to so many new ideas for fics!! I hope you all enjoy this one 🥰

Masterlist || Bingo Board

Being a college student still at age 25 meant many things, but mostly, it meant you had friends at many different stages of their lives. Some were fresh out of high school halls, enjoying their first taste of freedom, some were enjoying their first drops of alcohol. Some were giving up alcohol for good and starting families. 

Some of them were successful porn stars who'd funded their own start-up porn production company. It certainly was one way to use a film degree. You knew a professor or two who would enjoy her work more than half your syllabus as well. 

Candi Rapper had become famous doing cam shows in her first year of college and had gone all-in after graduation. You'd shared a few classes in the early days, before you took a break from college for financial reasons, of course. By the time you'd gone back, she was a big time and now in the position to offer you a job. 

“One of my crews is down a cameraman this weekend. If you're open to it, I pay a fair wage?” she'd offed at your weekly brunch. 

“Will you be the star?” You joked back with her. 

“You wish.” 

You took the job, of course, along with a ride from Candi (her name was Kate, but you'd let her pretend) and pulled up on site bright and alert at 7am. 

The set was a large mansion - typical, Candi said - and you'd be mostly shooting in the living room - typical, Candi said. You'd had to tell her after her second typical that you were, in fact, an adult and had seen at least one porno before until she cut out pornsplaining everything to you. She introduced you to the key staff and the director, and they got you set up at your camera. 

“The shoot today is going to be around 5 hours. You'll be on camera three. The papers in front have your cues and directions. You can have some free time until we start. There's a breakfast spread in the kitchen, help yourself.”

Not one to turn down free food, you bee-lined there and stood awkwardly in line for the coffee with the dozen or so other crew members, eyeing up the take-out pancakes organised across the granite surface. 

“Your first time?” An older man asked from behind you, smiling in a friendly manner. 

“You can tell?” 

“You're thinking about eating the pancakes, and the rest of us are remembering the scene filmed there last weekend," as if on queue, a shiver ran down his spine. "Yeah, we can tell.” You laughed along with the man's joke and finally grabbed your coffee. 

Luck just wasn't on your side, though, as you turned and immediately ran into someone immediately sloshing the coffee onto your shirt. 

“Oh my god, I am so - I'm so sorry, I need to watch where I'm going.” 

You'd run into 6’3” of lanky, awkward male perfection. He looked young, your age or younger most likely, and was fidgeting as he stood, the most obviously uncomfortable person in the building.

Your first thought was “Is he lost?” closely followed by “Can I beg him to get lost in a linen closet somewhere with me?” 

He grabbed a handful of tissues from the counter nearby and began attempting to wipe away the coffee you'd spilt down yourself, completely unaware that he was fondling your breasts in his haste to do so. 

“Slow down there, tiger, shoot doesn't start for another half hour,” you said, winking at him as you took the tissues from his panicked hands and dried yourself as best you could. 

“I know, I memorised the call sheet. Who are you?” His question was blunt, but you weren't taken aback at all, your smile even deepening as you enjoyed his subtle attention. 

“I'm Y/N. It's my first time.” 

He spluttered, coming up with an answer to that, and you immediately cursed yourself for the slip. 

“My first time on set, not my- I'm 25. Not that age determines experience per say but-”

“I'm 22. And my name is Spencer,” he said, grasping your hand and shaking it. 

“So, it's your first time on set?” He asked, relaxing more into the conversation as he stepped closer to you, letting the other staff members come and go from the kitchen. 

“Yeah. My friend offered me the job, you know Candi?” 

He nodded but didn't speak, so you continued. 

“She thought the experience would be good for me. And the cash. Gotta put myself through college somehow, and it was this or stripping.” 

He laughed, and you felt a flash of warmth in your stomach, a familiar hunger spreading across your lower body. Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the set, but the air was charged with arousal. 

“Well, you're certainly attractive enough to do both jobs. I'm sure the camera is going to love you,” he said, sounding so genuine and enthusiastic that you almost felt bad you had to correct him.

“Oh! Oh, no, Spencer, I'm not - I'm, uh, I'm going to be behind the camera. Behind camera number two.” 

His face instantly flushed, and you thought you saw a pang of disappointment there for a second, too. The thought of him being disappointed made your skin heat, that he'd been looking forward somehow to watching you get fucked? Your cunt throbbed and suddenly, you found you did wish to display yourself, to let everyone see if it meant that he got to.

“I am so sorry. I didn't - I thought… No, I didn't think, I… I'll shut up now, please excuse me-” 

“No, Spencer, wait-” 

You tried to call after him, but he sent you an embarrassed smile and walked off in haste, leaving you behind as the director called people to their places. 

You were still flushed with arousal as you moved to your station, getting your camera ready for filming. You were distracted even as the scene started, and the female actress came on set, already stripped down to her underwear and touching herself, teasing the camera. 

Surprisingly, you found the work easy enough, too busy focusing on the settings and the gaze of the camera to even care about what was going on down the lens. She was moaning and writhing and gasping sure, to the benefit of the cameras, and although strangely intimate, nobody in the room seemed bothered, so neither did you. 

Or neither did you until the actual scenario started, and your actress got ‘caught’ doing the dirty by the needy boy next door. You hadn't looked at the call sheet closely enough as Spencer peeped through the door to the bedroom, entering the scene not by accident but as a scripted part of the show. 

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you immediately looked down to your prompt sheet to find his name there. 

LEAD ACTOR: SPENCER REID

His stage name was scribbled next to that, but you paid it no attention as you steadied your camera again and got to filming seriously again. 

The actress had pulled his glasses off and led him to the bed, letting him keep on his sweater vest and tie as she pulled his head between her legs, and he started doing his job. 

Even from your view to the side of him, you could tell this wasn't his first time doing that. His tongue spread across the expanse of her heat, first, letting her grind into his face, getting comfortable before he snaked a hand up to her stomach and held her in place for as long as he so desired.

Then, he rolled her clit into his mouth and sucked. The fake moans and whimpers suddenly became real as you saw the sheer skill of his tongue ripple through the woman's body. 

You couldn't even be jealous at this point, despite how much you sorely wished that were you on the bed. Surely no girl had resorted to porn out of pure horny desire before, right? 

After a while of letting her gasp and moan under his tongue, Spencer's fingers curled inside the other woman as well. The director called cut, and he kept his fingers there, even as they walked him through the next few shots, and instructed him to unzip his pants in the next few clips. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself as the cameras started rolling again, and he did finally free himself from his tight khakis. 

You knew you'd probably sign up for whatever was on offer at this company next to see that gift again. Spencer wasn't an impressive size or girth, nothing so alien or out of the ordinary that it only belonged in porn. It was just that his cock looked so… pretty. 

He was an inch or two longer than any man you'd ever been with, you were sure, but his cock seemed to have an air of dignity about it. 

You had to stop yourself at that thought. Dignity? Really? You were working part-time on a porn set, and there was suddenly dignity involved? 

You rolled your shoulders back and tried to find your earlier unbothered attitude. But with his cock in his hands and his face slick with female arousal, you really couldn't bring yourself to think about anything less than his fingers roughly finger-fucking you. 

You tried to close your eyes to it, to be blind, but the wet, sticky sounds only distracted you  and you found yourself soon swaying, swaying, swaying until you had to catch yourself before the camera dropped. 

With a shout of “yes, baby, yes,” the female star came on his face, sending up a furret of fluids as he just kept diligently stroking his cock, only stopping at the director's final yell of “CUT.”

“Perfect guys, let's get her up and drinking water again. You need to stay hydrated after all that,” he joked, a PA walking over to pass the actress a robe and a bottle of water as she walked off set. 

You relaxed for a second, trying to find your quickest route out of the room so you wouldn't have to drool over the man's cock so obviously any more. 

“FLUFFER? Where's the fluffer?” The director yelled, looking around for someone who obviously wasn't there yet. 

“Well?”

Still, no one arrived to do whatever job they needed doing, and you felt desperate for escape. 

“New girl, would you mind?” Some crew member called out from the sidelines, nodding at you. 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you said, hoping that whatever job you agreed to would get you far enough from this room and the heat between your legs as possible. You were not a prude, and you would not bolt from your very first film shoot. 

“Great, get on the bed and keep the boy company,” the director said before exiting the room. 

You were absolutely on board with becoming a prude and bolting the scene as fast as your legs could carry you. Unfortunately, eight people still sat around, monitoring equipment and chatting on their breaks, and so you were forced to comply with the task. 

“We meet again,” you greeted the man stiffly as you found him on the bed, an apprehensive, tight smile on his own face.

“You don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable, I can keep myself… occupied.” 

You noticed then that his hand was still wrapped around his cock, giving it slow strokes, not enough to tip him over the edge, but just enough to maintain the erection. 

“So the fluffer….?” 

“Prepares the actors for the next scene? I need to stay- let say in shape.” 

His face flushed crimson as your gaze slipped down to his cock in his hand. 

“So you want me to-” 

“NO. No, I usually only talk to the Fluffers. Look at them, you know?” 

You nodded and found yourself suddenly going still, watching his face contort with pleasure as his eyes raked over your chest and legs. 

You couldn't help but let your eyes dart south again, and fuck did you wish you hadn't. His spare hand fisted the sheets as he stroked himself gently, practically taunting himself with the light touch. 

“You do this often?” you asked, trying to pretend you were open to having a normal conversation even while your brain begged you to climb into his lap and sink down as fast as you could. 

“You mean maaturbate or the porn thing?” 

“Porn.” 

“No. No, I come in for a shoot every few months. One of these shoots tends to fund another semester of my PhD, so-” 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were impressed by that admission, but your predominate thought was still “shit, shit, shit, shit.” 

“That's impressive,” you said, only catching your words as they tripped out of your mouth. “THE PHD! The PhD, I mean not your… penis? Not that it isn’t appealing, or- or-.” 

You tried your hardest to use the most clinical word you could, distancing yourself from the honeyed words you so wanted to drop in his ear to get him to crawl further up the bed and entice him to make his own scene with you. 

“Thank you. It's my third,” he said, slightly more relaxed now that you were the flustered one. 

“PhD that is. Not cock. I only have one of these.” 

“One is enough,” you say, unable to stop the words tumbling out as your eyes again find themselves following each pump of his hand up and down his cock. Inwardly, you curse your friend for starting up her stupid business and paying you to simply exist in the same hemisphere as this man without being able to ride him. 

“Do you want to touch it?” He asked, blurting the words out suddenly. As if God had answered your prayers, your heart leapt up into your throat, your pussy clenching around nothing as you shifted your hips closer to him. 

You'd thought then that you'd quite enjoy bouncing on that thing yourself, but a handshake would have to do.

“So you have to stay hard, but-” 

“But it's best I don't cum, yeah.”

“Okay. Noted.”

Slowly, you reached out a hand and gently wrapped each finger around the tip of his cock. He released himself and wrapped his now free hand around yours, setting the pace for you quickly as he engaged you in conversation again. 

“So, where are you from?” He asked, as inept at small talk as you felt in that second. 

You answered him without a fuss and returned the question. Las Vegas. That seemed to check out with how easily he'd broken into porn. There was always something happening in that city. 

"How'd you get into the business?"

"Well, Vegas, you know. A producer saw a group of... street ladies offer me a freebie and gave me his card."

You went back and forth on questions like that for a few minutes before you noticed he was coughing every few seconds to mask moans and groans, evidently too into this to request you stop. 

“Is it okay to…Can I touch you?” He asked, sounding very afraid of rejection at that second. 

“Oh, um, yes. That'd only be fair, right?” 

He ran a hand up your waist to the curve of your breast and pressed his fingers into one, digging into the skin as though it were a pillow, and he was testing it before he fell head first into it. 

Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though. 

Temporarily, you let go of him, popping the front buttons of your blouse until he could freely see all of your black and red bra, and feast on the tops of your dusty nipples, peaking out just above each cup.

You heard him inhale sharply, even as he tried to hide it, but you didn't care, too transfixed on the precum decorating his tip. 

“Would you mind-” You started, but cut yourself off quickly, biting your lower lip. 

“Mind?” 

“Can I suck it?”

You didn't know where it came from because there were probably half a dozen other people still in the room, and mostly men. But dear god, he looked delicious, and you wanted just a little sample. 

“Fuck yes,” he said, finally giving in and letting out a whole gust of breath as he slumped down a bit further, no longer holding himself rigid. “No, no, actually, please do. I'm begging, I'll beg-” 

You cut him off by pushing yourself to your knees and crawling in between his, and seconds later, you were licking the length of his cock from the base of his balls all the way to that precious drop of precum. 

Hard, but no cumming. You could do that. You'd never done it before, preferring to fully pleasure sexual partners any chance you got, but there was no time like the present to start learning. 

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around his tip and sank down, taking one inch, then another, and then another. When you reached the base of his cock, you pushed that little bit further down, calming yourself and going slowly so you didn't gag, nose pushing into his neat public hair before pulling away just as slowly and doing it again. 

You took him as deep down your throat as you could manage, and suddenly, it was like everything that kept your conversation casual and civil earlier had flown out the door. He threw his head back, fisted his hand in your hair, and moaned deep. 

The sound shook you so much you almost pushed a hand into your own underwear and started fucking yourself, needing to prepare yourself for him like a good girl. 

Around you, you could hear signs of the shoot starting back up again, people finding their places, still all but ignoring you deep-throating a porn star. 

Spencer's breaths grew more rapid as you sucked him, hips becoming restless as he tried to lift up into your mouth, hand in your hair tightening as you realised your mistake. 

You pulled off his cock and grasped it again, stroking it slowly, but it was too late. With a sharp moan and a twitch of his hips, Spencer so prettily decorated your chin and chest. His cum dripped down your face, hitting your cleavage and pushing further down to stain your nice black laced underwear white.

“Fuck! Sorry, I wasn't meant to do that, let me get some - Can I get a towel please? A baby wipe? Some tissue, anything?” His voice was panicked, but his hand on your head relaxed, and he brushed your hair gently behind your ear, as if comforting you. 

He was panicked, for sure, but the crew calmly handed him everything he needed, as if they'd been in anticipation of just this thing happening. You supposed they probably were, this being a porn set. You were sure you were supposed to clean yourself up, but instead, he grabbed a wet tissue, leaving the pack just out of your reach.

He managed to clean your face off a bit before the director returned to the room with a laugh. Running a hand through his hair and messing it up slightly, the director turned back to you.

“We're five minutes out from shoot time,” he said, shaking his head. You started to apologise, but he stopped you with a hand. 

“New girl, work whatever magic you just did and get him hard again. Five minutes.” 

“W-What?” You spluttered, trying your best to rise from your knees, but ultimately failing. You were either stiff from the position or just weak with arousal. 

“He just came, I don't think I can-”

“10 pictures I've done with that kid, and I haven't seen him cum that quickly ever before in my life. And certainly not just for some kitten licks. Do it.”

You turned back to Spencer, his cum still trickling down your chest, creating an almost uncomfortable stiffness as it dried up. 

“Pleasure working with you?” You said, not-so-secretly ecstatic that you got to sample him once more. 

“I'll be in your care,” he replied, as you begin softly kissing the head of his cock again, tipping his head back again and losing himself in the pleasure or your tongue.

[late-to-the-party-81]

The King's Last Concubine

AN: Welcome, welcome to the short one-shot that spiralled a little out of control. I’m sure none of you will complain. If you like cheesy historical romance and Bucky then you’ve come to the right place. In all honesty I could have made this story much, much longer, but unfortunately I don’t have the time, so it’s wrapped up a little fast and without as many misunderstandings as the usual Harlequin/Mills and Boon normally contains. I hope you like it anyway.

Beta’d by the lovely @seriouslydex - thank you for your assistance in wrangling this into coherence.

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

Summary: When Bucky takes over the throne after his Father’s death, he has better things to deal with than the group of concubines he’s inherited. He thinks the tradition is abhorrent and vows he wants no part of it. When he meets the newest member of the harem he finds his moral stance tested. How can he want the woman who was bought to please his father?

Relationship: King James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Female Concubine Reader

Chapter word count: 10.2k

CW: Historical AU, Flowery historical language, Angst, Servitude, Lust, Male masturbation, Fluff, Miscommunication, Self-loathing, Jealousy, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Sexual Content, Declaration of feelings.

A quiet tension filled the air as you wandered your way around the gardens and corridors of the place you’d called home for the last six months. That’s when you’d been purchased - a gift for the elderly and ailing king, meant to boost his spirits and reignite his youthful zeal. However, all the youth and beauty in the world could not turn back the sands of time.

For the last few weeks the king had been getting weaker, not leaving his private rooms or entertaining any guests apart from his long faithful Queen, his heir, Prince James and his daughter, Princess Rebecca. It was a waiting game now, for the Royal Family, the country, and for you and the other members of the Harem.

Entering the solar, where all of you could spend your days in conversation, needlework, painting and reading, you could see Merith, the King’s favourite in an agitated conversation with Katya, the next concubine down in the pecking order. They had the most to lose when the inevitable happened, because it would be very unlikely that the Prince would wish to keep them around. Not only were they older than him, they had both also borne the King numerous children - it would be very strange for a new King to keep the mothers of his half siblings as concubines for himself. At best, the two women might hope to be housed somewhere pleasant in their retirement, maybe with a semi-wealthy husband. At worst they could be turfed out of the palace along with any of their children that the King hadn’t yet made provisions for.

As for your fate, that was also completely unknown. However, due to your age and the fact that you had only been here a short time, with very few interactions with the King, there was a chance that the Prince would want to keep you. You’d never seen him in the flesh, but you knew he was handsome from the glimpses you’d had of his portrait when you’d been led to and from the King’s chambers on those few occasions he had requested your company. However, despite what you had been purchased for, you had never actually lain with the King. He had tried and, as it was in your best interest, so had you, but the King was old and tired. 

Instead you’d provided him with company as best you could, rubbing his back, stroking his hair and reading him stories until he fell asleep and you could call the guards to escort you back to the Little Palace.

Of course, no-one knew what had occurred within the privacy of the King’s chambers, and if other concubines had had similar experiences they didn’t talk of it openly - it wouldn’t do to discuss the failing manhood of the person who held your life in their hands. However, what this meant was that you were still untouched by a man, with no experience other than what you had gifted yourself.

With a sigh, you crossed to the far side of the room, taking your place amongst the other younger and newer members of your unconventional community, picking up the sampler you’d been working on. There was no music being played and all conversations were kept to a minimum and spoken in whispers, out of a combination of respect and anxiety. The limbo dragged on.

Suddenly, the doors to the solar crashed open, and the King’s Equerry walked in, flanked by several guards.

“The King has died,” he announced. “Long live the King.”

The ladies fell into disarray.

“I really have to deal with that now?” Bucky asked of Coulson, his father’s, and now his, Equerry.

“I’m afraid so, your Majesty. It’s been two weeks since the late king passed away and decisions need to be made about those whose services you do not wish to retain. There may be some obvious candidates, but with others you may not know how you feel until you meet them.”

Bucky, now King James, sighed. It hadn’t come as a surprise when his father, King George, had passed away. His various ailments had worsened over the last few months and Bucky had actually felt relief for him at the end. The funeral had been last week and since then he’d been stuck in back to back meetings with the men who were now officially his advisors, sorting out matters of state. Admittedly, the fate of those who resided in the Little Palace hadn’t really occurred to him as important. It was an archaic tradition as far as he was concerned. Servants were one thing, but owning women just so you have a choice about who to fuck without any repercussions, just struck him as something that belonged firmly in the past. He still couldn’t get his head around how his mother had never once complained or commented about the practice - had never flinched when another Royal bastard was presented to the court so his father could make provision for them as he saw fit.

There was no question that any of the women who had provided his father with children - he wasn’t going to call them siblings - would have to be looked after in some way. He wasn’t a monster. The problem would be the others. There were about twenty or so of them, his father collecting them like fine artwork over his years on the throne and a few - and this thought turned Bucky’s stomach a little - were as young as his sister Rebecca. He didn’t feel as though he could just turn them out, however he didn’t want to keep them either. Without some kind of royal approval the women could be ostracised from normal society if their past were to become known, but could he really justify supporting all of them from the Royal purse for the rest of their days? Although, undoubtedly, there would be some noblemen more than happy to have his father’s cast offs as wives, especially as there had been no lack of suitors for their daughters. Those that had offered for them had obviously been hoping it would grant them a modicum more influence at court. Little did they know that wouldn’t be the case with him.

It also didn’t help that while Coulson could understand wanting to remove certain members of the Little Palance, he didn’t understand why the new King didn’t want to ‘get to know’ the rest of them. According to the Equerry, they were all very beautiful, demure, and accomplished, any one of them a suitable companion for lonely evenings. Apparently telling the dour man that if he was that taken with them he should feel free to fornicate with one himself, was not the done thing, but Bucky thought the look on Coulson’s face had been worth it. He’d then tried arguing that the ladies of the Little Palace deserved better than what they currently had, but his personal advisor had brushed the comment aside.

“These women want for nothing, Your Majesty. They sleep in the finest sheets, wear the finest fabrics, and eat the finest foods. Some would say they have a charmed life and what they gave up for it is very little in comparison to what they gain.”

“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “I will at least deal with Merith, Katya and the other few that my dearly departed father put babies into, and maybe speak to the others. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Coulson smiled, obviously thinking that he’d won this round, and Bucky decided not to disabuse him. You have to pick your battles, as his mother was fond of telling him.

This time when the Equerry appeared, a fortnight after the death of King George, he sent nearly all of you out to the gardens, only keeping Merith, Katya and a few other of the ladies inside. It was clear that the women who were mothers to the late King’s bastards were about to find out their fate.

You walked slowly between the roses with your friend, Lila, the concubine who’d been obtained just a few months before you, swapping inconsequential small talk, neither wanting to verbalise what was actually on your minds - to say it out loud would be to court disaster. When the Royal Guards suddenly came outside you all stopped what you were doing, wondering if Master Coulson was going to deliver news to you all as well, but when a different, unexpected man appeared, you all lowered your gazes and dropped into deep curtsies. The King - the new King - was here. 

Anxiety rode through you, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart. You were vaguely aware, from your peripheral vision, that Master Coulson was introducing the King to each member of his harem. You caught snatches of conversation, when the King asked each woman in turn their name and how long they had lived here. When they got to Lila next to you, you heard your friend giggle when the King asked her the same questions and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You liked her, but she was always a little silly. Maybe she thought to flirt her way into the King’s affections?

When the two sets of feet stopped in front of you, you waited for Coulson’s say so before coming out of your curtsey and raising your head.

“And here, Your Majesty, is our newest young lady. You may greet the King, my dear.”

You stood, glad to get out of the deeply uncomfortable pose, and prepared to finally see him in the flesh for the first time.

“Your Highness,” you said, your voice a little more breathy than anticipated, but that was because it had been knocked from your lungs at the vision that greeted you. 

King James was tall and broad in the shoulders. It was clear that the painting you had seen had been created when he was still a young man, only just into his adulthood. The man who stood before you now was no stripling. He was fully grown and oozed confidence and authority. His eyes, a cross between pale blue and grey, which had not been adequately portrayed by the Royal artist. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and his jaw exquisitely chiselled, even if it was partially obscured by his facial hair. The hair on his head was short at the sides, but fluffy and slightly untamed on top, just tempting you to run your fingers through it. Now you knew why Lila had giggled. 

He took your hand in his, and you marvelled at how large and strong it looked in comparison to your own. You could clearly see the resemblance to his father, but this was a man in the prime of his life and the thought that he would have none of the problems in the bedroom that had beset the late King flashed across your mind, unbidden.

When he asked your name in his deep but clear voice, you had to swallow before you answered so you didn’t stutter like a schoolgirl.

“Master Coulson said you were new. How long have you lived here?”

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

You hesitated for a moment, working out the best way to answer. The other’s hadn’t been asked this question. “It’s very pleasant. Thank you for asking Your Majesty.”

His lips, full and pink, twitched, picking up on the diplomacy of your answer. “Only pleasant? Oh dear. Well maybe we can improve upon that in the near future.”

He skillfully removed his hand from yours and turned back to his Equerry, and you returned your gaze to the floor. As he walked away you realised your heart was still beating fast within your chest. However, it was no longer anxiety that made it do so, but rather the newly unfurled bloom of desire.

As soon as Bucky returned to the Palace proper, he dismissed Coulson and headed directly for his private chambers. His time in the Little Palace had mostly gone as well as expected, Meredith and her cohorts fawning over him dramatically in thanks for his generosity and then meeting what seemed like a legion of beautiful, yet dull as dishwater, young women, who his father had acquired to make himself feel young. What he hadn’t been expecting though was that last young lady - he didn’t even want to think about the word concubine and all of the linked meanings it held. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, and it had been clear from the short exchange of pleasantries that you had intelligence and humour to match.

He felt the rolling heat of lust raise its head and desperately tried to push it aside. As unique in his experience as you may be, he shouldn’t - couldn’t - think about you in this way. Not when he knew you’d spent time with his father. It was more than he could bear. But he couldn’t get the image of you from his mind. The curves of your body that deserved to be traced and explored with reverence. Your large, expressive eyes that tempted him to drown in their depths. Your lips that called him to kiss you over and over until you couldn’t speak or even breathe due to how much you wanted him.

Entering his room he shut the door harshly, but he didn’t care. He was unbearably hard within his trousers, and while not a new sensation by any means, it wasn’t one he’d felt in some time. As the Crown Prince he’d had to be circumspect in his affairs,but there was no-one he’d been actively courting. Now he was King the pressure would be on for him to find a suitable wife and start producing heirs. However, he didn’t intend to be like his father. Once he was married he would be faithful and treat his wife with respect. The devil on his shoulder reminded him that he wasn’t married yet and was free to do what he desired, but he tried to push it aside.

Bucky threw himself down on his bed but every time he closed his eyes you were there, hovering behind his eyelids. He palmed himself over his trousers, trying to get some relief from his state of arousal, but it was no good. Almost unconsciously he undid the fastenings, letting out a small sigh as the pressure was lessened, but then it was just too easy to take himself in hand. A few small strokes, just to take the edge off, became harder and longer, and the vision of you behind his closed eyes smiled at him coyly, tempting him to ruin her. 

He imagined kissing you and touching you. Tracing every peak and valley with his lips and tongue. He imagined you doing the same to him, taking him in your mouth, lips stretched wide and tears in your perfect eyes. He imagined driving into you, again and again, while you gripped his shoulders and tangled your legs around his waist. Marking you - claiming you - as you called out his name over and over and trembled around him.

Bucky came with a cry, his spend spilling over his hand and stomach, and leaving him with an aching, hollow feeling of disgust with himself. He needed to release you and the rest of the ladies of the Little Palace and there-by banish you from his thoughts.

The next day he put his plan into action. He set Coulson the task of going through the remaining residents, from oldest serving to newest and finding them a new situation. Respectable marriages were the first preference - the Crown could provide a dowry - but failing that independence and a stipend until they became financially solvent on their own. If this plan had the effect that you would be the last to leave, that was just an unfortunate by-product of the most logical way of sorting the whole thing out, wasn’t it?

The edict by the King that the Little Palace was being disbanded was met at first with some trepidation. The women were all of a flutter, wondering what it would mean for them, but when Marie, the most senior of the concubines now that Merith and the others who had children had retired, was informed that, should she approve him, a husband had been found for her, any anxiety morphed into jubilation. Over the coming weeks, the number of you dwindled and you couldn’t help but feel a little lost amongst all the celebration. You were a strange sisterhood, that was certain, and you hadn’t gotten along with everyone, but you wished them well with a smile, and mulled over your sense of unease in private.

You weren’t sure what it was that was making you worried. It wasn’t as though you’d be forced into anything you didn’t want. Letitia had rejected three potential husbands before settling on a fourth, much to Master Coulson’s despair, and Tiffany had outright declared she wanted no husband at all, her and Dana wishing to set up house together and start a school. This came as no surprise to any of you.

It also wasn’t because you were so entrenched in this life that the thought of anything else was scary - you’d had more life outside these walls than in it - however you had found a camaraderie here, a sense of belonging, as strange as that may seem, that you hadn’t had before. And despite the fact that the idea of being intimate with the old King had been stomach churning, once he realised each time that it wasn’t going to happen, you’d found you’d enjoyed providing him comfort and some sort of friendship. Maybe being here had spoiled you? You’d admit it wasn’t a hardship to live somewhere where all your meals and clothes were provided and all you had to do was entertain yourself unless your services were required, although you did wish for more sometimes - a cage was still a cage, no matter how gilded and glittered.

Maybe having a husband wouldn’t be so bad. Hopefully he’d let you have some freedom - have some hobby or interest to keep you occupied, other than keeping house and popping out babies. You couldn’t help but be nervous though, especially as the numbers of you lessened until it was just you and Lila left. 

Each time one of the ladies was preparing to leave, the King would come and thank her for her service. How any of you managed to keep a straight face when he said that was beyond you, but it did give you the chance to watch him unobserved. He really was handsome, and seemed so kind and earnest in his thanks. A true King and diplomat. But that wasn’t all he was. Every so often he would catch your eye and you would feel… something. And you couldn’t explain what it was, other than that you felt like a moth captivated by a flame, longing to get nearer and nearer, even if it would mean your doom. It wasn’t just physical, either - although you couldn’t deny that you’d had thoughts about that. You wanted to get to know him. The real him. His hopes and dreams. What motivated him.

You got your chance when you were sitting in the solar, enjoying the sun that streamed through the windows as you read your book. Lila was outside in the garden, taking a walk with her potential fiancee, a man named Lang who was apparently some minor aristocracy. Guards trailed them at a discrete distance, but you didn’t think there was anything to worry about. From the glimpses you’d caught of them, Master Lang appeared to be a convivial and respectful fellow. He walked with his hands behind his back, not trying to touch or grab at your friend, but he leant in close to talk intimately.  He also appeared to be letting Lila hold an equal part of the conversation and you watched as she giggled behind her hand at a number of points in response to what you guessed were jokes.

“They appear to be getting on well.”

A voice from behind you, made you jump and turn in your chair. At the realisation that King James was standing there, you leapt up and then immediately leant forward into a deep curtsey. 

“Your Majesty.”

How had you not noticed him enter? Why was he here?

“Please stand. There’s only the two of us here. I wanted to see for myself how Master Lang was comporting himself and this seemed like the best place to watch unobserved.”

He walked closer to the window and you continued to stand, your hands clasping each other, as you watched him from under your lowered lashes. Despite the number of times you’d seen him recently you were no less dazed by his beauty than you had been the first time. You allowed your gaze to travel over his body, admiring the way his clothes were cut to show off his defined figure. Silver threads were woven through the black fabric of his coat and they shimmered in the sunlight. You itched to smooth the cloth over the broadness of his shoulders.

As if sensing you watching him, the King turned back to you.

“Please don’t let me disturb you from whatever you were doing. Pretend that I’m not here.”

Your lips twitched. “That would be difficult, Your Majesty. You do stand out.” You gestured to the walls of the solar, a pale pink colour, and then at his attire. He looked down at himself and you were taken aback by the flush that made its way to his cheeks.

“Aah, yes. I see what you mean.” He moved away from the window then, and toward the chair opposite the one you’d been occupying when he’d surprised you. “Maybe then we could sit and talk for a while? What have you been doing with your days these last weeks?”

You gave him a small nod and took your seat. “Very little, Your Majesty, other than helping the others pack up their belongings as they leave. Some reading, some needlework. I have been practising my languages too. What have you been doing? Important affairs of state I would imagine.”

“It is not nearly as glamorous as people think. Lots of meetings that seem to stretch on forever, but that is nothing to the never-ending paperwork. I swear everyone in the country will have my signature soon. Lots of time to relax and do what you will, seems wonderful to me. I admit to being a little envious.” He smiled as he spoke, his face lighting up in boyish amusement.

“I assure you,” you stated, “that after a while even relaxing becomes as dull as any paperwork.”

The King chuckled at that. “Does it now? I’ll have to take your word for it. Now, tell me, what languages do you speak?”

“French and Spanish. A little Portuguese. And I’m trying to improve my Greek.” You lifted up your book to show him the writing on the front. He smiled at you and your heart beat faster.

“Impressive, my lady. My Greek is somewhat rusty, although my Russian is still good. Come, read for me and we shall see if I can follow you.”

Feeling shy, you lifted your book and began, haltingly at first, to read out loud, your tongue trying to wrap around the unfamiliar syllables. It had been a while since you had spoken out loud, normally preferring just to read, but as you became more confident the words flowed easier and you managed to glance up at him now and again.

The King was sitting, relaxed in his chair, legs outstretched with his ankles crossed. His eyes were closed as he rested his head on the chair back, arms settled on his chest with his fingers steepled. For a moment you could almost pretend this was a domestic scene of a wife reading to her husband after a long day. However, you were not his wife and he was not destined to be your husband. That would be someone else.

When you reached the end of your chapter, you gently closed your book, placing it on the side table, and the King opened his eyes and sat up again.

“You have a wonderful reading voice and you navigated the words very well - better than I’d have done, I’m sure. I’ve always thought learning languages a worthwhile endeavour and it is my deepest regret that I do not know more. I’ll take note to ensure that my Equerry looks to place you in a situation where your skills will be appreciated. I have a feeling,” he said with a glance back towards the window where his friend was still busy gently wooing yours, “that you will soon be the only one here.

You felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the compliment. “That would be greatly appreciated, Your Majesty. I know that not all men wish for an intelligent wife, but it would be nice to not have to appear vapid just to gain favour with my spouse.”

King James snorted. “I’ll admit that I do not understand those who only wish for a doll for a wife. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days together, would it not be better to have someone to converse with. Someone to challenge you mentally. It would be rather dull otherwise.”

“I suppose,” you ventured, “that those men are probably the type to find other ways - other people - to keep them occupied.” A small smile crept across his lips at your statement.

“And I suppose you are correct, my lady. But if that is the case then those men have chosen poorly. I cannot imagine marrying someone, only to then spend all my free time avoiding them. Somewhat defeats the point of it all, in my opinion.”

“Well, I had guessed some of that about you, Your Majesty. What with you getting rid of this age-old tradition.” You gestured once again to the room around you but when you turned back to him, it was to see that the King’s eyes had narrowed slightly, studying you.

“And how do you feel about that?”

You sensed his words were a test and you licked your lips nervously before you answered.

“I have no real opinion, Sire. I live to serve and am happy to do what my King commands of me.”

There was a strange look on his face. He was no longer smiling and while he didn’t appear angry with you, his demeanor was now far more chilly than it had been a moment ago.

“And were you happy to carry out the commands of my late father?”

You hesitated before answering. “His Royal Highness was most kind to me. I was happy to serve him.”

You barely heard him mutter “I bet you were” under his breath before he suddenly stood, and you scrambled to your feet after him. 

“This has been an illuminating chat, my lady, and I thank you for your company. Soon you will be free of this place and can put this part of your life behind you.”

He nodded his head and once again you dropped into a deep curtsey, your eyes locked to the floor. You stayed that way as his footsteps retreated across the marble floor and you wondered what it was you had said that had turned him so cold.

Once again, Bucky found himself stalking into the sanctuary of his private chambers. Damn you, damn his father, and damn this ridiculous fascination of his. Whilst he’d tried to tell himself that the only reason he went to the Little Palace was to get a feeling for whether his friend was getting along with his potential betrothed, he also couldn’t deny the fact that he’d known you would be there as well, all alone.

He’d been enjoying your conversation until he’d been reminded why you were even there in the first place and sabotaged himself by bringing up his father. Then you’d all but admitted that you’d enjoyed doing what you did. Bucky felt sick at the thought. 

Images of you tortured him day and night, and spending time with you today had obviously been ill-advised because now he had more memories to draw on. The way you spoke so passionately and knowledgeably about the ways of the world. The way that you smiled and joked when you were relaxed.

Bucky’s fingers longed to pick up a charcoal and try to capture the way the sunlight had slid over the planes of your face, giving you an ethereal, other-worldly look, like some fae creature sent to enrapture him. Instead he tugged on the bell-pull, asking the page who appeared to go and fetch Coulson. He then paced up and down the room, chewing on his thumb nail for the few minutes it took the Equerry to appear.

“How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” Coulson asked with a low bow.

“I want the matters with Lang organised as soon as possible and the remaining occupant of the Little Palace resituated with all speed. It’s high-time this issue was finished, once and for all.

It had been a week since Lila left. A week in which you’d spent nearly every waking moment alone, other than when the servants were helping you dress and bringing you food. Although you mustn’t forget the omni-present guards stationed outside various doors. Which meant it was two weeks since the conversation with the King that had left you feeling more confused than ever.

Lila had returned from her sojourn around the garden gushing about Master Lang and his attributes. About how handsome and kind and funny he was, and how certain she was that they would suit. You plastered a smile to your face and said all the right things, but you couldn’t seem to concentrate on your friend’s happiness, your thoughts consumed by the memory of how the King’s face had looked at the end of your exchange.

He’d been so happy and relaxed, then suddenly so cold and closed. It was obviously no secret that he didn’t like the fact that his father had had concubines, but it had happened and to deny why you were living there would be foolish. Which is why you’d answered so diplomatically - he didn’t need to know what did or didn’t happen in the privacy of the late King’s chambers, and he probably didn’t want to know. What son would want those details? But he had asked a question and you’d answered the best way you knew how.

It hurt because you’d actually been enjoying yourself, and thought that maybe he’d been enjoying himself as well. There’d been a strange warmth inside you as the pair of you had talked and teased and joked, and over the last few days you found yourself wishing you could feel it again.

However, now you had something else to occupy your mind. Almost as soon as Lila had left to get married - and you were sad you couldn’t be with her on her big day - Master Coulson had come to tell you that arrangements were being made at pace for your own future. It was only mildly surprising then, when he’d come to you this morning to tell you that a potential husband had been found and you should prepare yourself to have dinner this evening. He passed you over some papers, giving you details of the man you were to meet.

Apparently he was a Baron, a widower, and a few years older than King James. His seat was on the other side of the country and apparently quite large, with the main house boasting stables, a library, and a formal rose garden. As you read through the information you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. It all looked good on paper, but you needed to be sure. You didn’t want to swap one cage for another - you had to at least like Baron Zemo, and him you. It seemed as though he spoke numerous languages, so at least you had one thing in common with him. Hopefully all would go well, and you could consign this place and thoughts of the King to the past.

A few hours later and you were putting the finishing touches to your toilette. You dabbed some rosewater behind your ears and smoothed your hands down the front of your gown. It was one of your favourites and you’d worn it every time you’d been to visit the late King. He’d always complimented it, saying that the colour of the silk brought out your eyes. You hoped the Baron would like it as well. With a gentle knock on the door, one of the servants let you know that your guest had arrived and was waiting for you in the solar. You took a deep breath and walked down the hall.

As you entered, you saw a man, dressed in deep purple, looking out of the window, with his back to you. 

“Baron Zemo, you are most welcome,” you said as you dropped into a curtsey. You heard him turn and then a be-ringed hand appeared in front of your eyes, offering to help you back to your feet.

“Thank you for having me here, my lady,” he replied as you stood. “I have been intrigued to meet you ever since the King wrote to me about your situation.”

You took in his features as he smiled gently at you. He had warm hazel eyes, straight, mid-brown hair that lay across his brow, and was clean shaven. He was slightly taller than you, but not by much and you pushed away the rogue thought about how King James virtually towered over you.

“Shall we sit and dine, and hopefully get to know one another better, sir?” you suggested.

“You’ve read my mind, my dear. There is nothing like good food, good wine, and good conversation, is there?” The Baron walked you over to the small dining table that had been set up and assisted you into your seat, and you felt like a grand lady.

The next two hours passed by amenably. The Baron was eloquent and charming, and when he found out that you spoke other languages he insisted on conversing with you in them, gently correcting your pronunciation and helping you when a particular word or phrase was outside your knowledge. At the end of the meal you were full, warm and a little tipsy from the wine - it wasn’t in your nature to imbibe often.

“Maybe,” Zemo suggested, “we should take a turn about the gardens? A walk in the cool night air would probably help aid digestion. What do you think, my lady?”

“I think that would be delightful.” You allowed him to help you with your chair once more and when you stumbled he linked your arm into his and walked you outside, away from the guards and servants who’d been present in the solar with you. 

The garden was illuminated with lanterns in addition to the lights from the solar, and the pair of you walked companionably along the pathways. So far he’d done nothing to worry you, and hadn’t been at all standoffish. You would have to give serious thought into accepting his suit, especially as you were unlikely to receive better. The problem with being the last to be situated was that it also meant that your options for a suitable marriage were narrower.

“You’re awfully quiet, my dear. What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” You ducked your head at the compliment and couldn’t help but smile.

“In all honesty, my lord? I was thinking about how lovely this evening has been. I will admit to some trepidation, which I’m sure you can forgive me for. Things like this are all too new for me.”

“No forgiveness needed,” he said with a smile, one much wider than those he’d displayed earlier and you felt your heart pick up in your chest, although you couldn’t immediately say why. “It’s completely understandable. But can I say that you have vastly surpassed my expectations. The information given to me about you greatly downplayed your beauty and intelligence. And, if I may be so bold, I find myself captivated.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but you also felt a little uncomfortable, at his zealousness. Or maybe it was the wine? “That is kind of you to say, sir. However, I’m finding myself getting a little chilled. Maybe we should return inside?”

With a swiftness that startled you, the Baron took hold of your shoulders and steered you backwards until you came into contact with the wall. You gasped in shock at both the impact and his change in demeanour.

“Maybe I can find a way to warm you up?” He quipped before his lips came down onto yours, his tongue thrusting into your mouth and one hand falling to your leg, inching your skirts upwards. You tore your mouth from his and turned your head, but his lips just zeroed in on your throat instead, sucking and nipping.

“Sir! Get off me!” You tried to push him, but his bulk had you pinned. His questing hand breached the hem of your skirts and he started to grope at your thigh, and his lips trailed further down to the neckline of your dress. “I said get off!”

The Baron raised his head and stilled his hand, but didn’t move away. “Surely you must miss this? The touch of a man. And think how much better it will be with someone who is younger and knows how to please a woman.”

“I miss it less than you think,” you ground out between clenched teeth. “And I did not ask you for this. Let me go.”

He smiled predatorily and slid his hand up to cup your mound over your underwear. “Did you really think I would offer for you without seeing if you had all the necessary attributes I’m looking for. I need an heir, and intelligence and beauty can’t provide that. And let’s face it, it’s not as though you’re a missish virgin keeping herself pure for her wedding night.”

His hand started to tug at your underthings and you closed your eyes tight as fear started to take over. However, just as you felt the first touch of his fingers on your intimate flesh his weight was suddenly gone.

“I believe the lady said no, Baron Zemo.”

Your eyes shot open, and there was King James, standing between you and the Baron, who was now sprawled on the ground. The dim light of the lanterns partially lit his face and that, combined with his expression, made him look like an avenging angel. Then he turned towards you and his expression softened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Without the Baron’s hands on you, your skirts fell back to your ankles and you pushed yourself away from the wall to stand. 

You nodded and gave a little cough to clear your throat. “I’m fine, Your Majesty.”

The Baron scrambled to his feet and brushed the dust and gravel from his coat.

“Just a little misunderstanding between my fianceé and myself, Your Majesty. No harm done,” he said, his voice smooth and oily.

You took a step forward, your body trembling with anger. “I don’t believe that I’ve accepted your suit, sir. And after that display of ungentlemanly conduct I am now fully disinclined to do so.”

The Baron’s eyes snapped to yours, narrowing and he let his facade fully drop away. “Be quiet, whore. Who else would have you? You’re used goods, even if the one who did the using was the former King. You should be grateful I’m even considering you.”

You shifted, intending to step forward again and slap him, but the King held out his hand stopping you.

“You are out of line, Baron. No matter her history, the lady is still just that. A lady. And how you treat her is tells me that, despite your title, you are no gentleman.” His voice was steady, but you could pick up the undercurrent of rage - could see it in the way he was holding himself and the tick in his jaw.

Baron Zemo let out a bark of laughter, apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. “My dear James, I cannot believe how much you are defending one of your fathers handmaidens. She was obtained by him for one purpose, but you think it’s unreasonable for me to see if she lives up to that purpose before I marry her.” He peered at the King, then his eyes widened as though he’d made a startling revelation. “Do I sense some jealousy raising its head here?” He laughed again. “I should have realised there was a reason you kept her until last. Of course - she’s your whore as…”

He didn’t get to finish his vile words, because King James’ arm snapped out and he punched the Baron right on the jaw, then watched impassively as the man crumpled back to the ground. Then, just as suddenly, he turned towards you fully and without a word scooped you up into his arms. You squeaked and threw your arms around his neck as he walked briskly back towards the solar. As he made his way inside, the guards stood to attention but didn’t turn to look at you, however, you still hid your face in his neck from embarrassment.

“There’s some filth in the garden to be sent packing.” The King’s voice rumbled in your ear as he spoke to the guards, and then he was turning with you in his arms and striding down the corridor that led to the private chambers. 

“Which one?” he asked gruffly, and you uncurled from his chest slightly so you could point. He shouldered your door open and then kicked it shut before letting you down, your body sliding over his as he did so.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and heart racing, not even noticing that your hands still rested on the slope of his chest and that his hands were still on your waist.

“You’re sure you're alright?” he queried again, looking down at you with concern.

“Absolutely. You stopped him. You…” You started to shake then as you realised how close you’d come to real harm. Without a word, the king steered you over to the edge of your bed and you both sat down, your small hands held in his larger ones, one of his thumbs rubbing over the delicate skin near your knuckles.

“Just breathe, my lady. You’ve had a shock. I’m glad I was there…” he stopped mid-sentence and freed one of his hands to turn your head and bare your neck to him. You swore you heard him growl. “He marked you. I’m going to kill him.”

You took hold of his wrist and pulled it down so you could turn back to face him. “It’s nothing. Really. It will fade and in a few days it’ll be a memory. Then we can try again.”

He peered at you, confused.

“Try and find me a husband,” you clarified and then smiled in an effort to lighten the atmosphere in the room.

“No.” King James pulled himself away sharply and stood, his back to you.

Now you were the one who was confused. “What do you mean,’No’? ‘No’ to a few days or ‘No’ to a husband? I don’t understand.”

“Either. Both,” he snapped, still not turning around.

“Alright,” you replied. “We’ll find me somewhere to live, then. Discuss a suitable stipend amount like Master Coulson did with some of the others who refused a husband.”

“Not that, either.” He ground the words out and you felt your patience waning, frustration overtaking your confusion. You stood up and stepped closer.

“So no husband and no stipend. What are you suggesting? That I just leave?” You couldn’t keep the hysterical note from your voice.

He spun on his heel and moved into your personal space, just as the Baron had done only a few minutes ago. However you didn’t feel anxious or uncomfortable, and the warm feeling inside you was back, despite your anger at how contrary he was being.

“Not at all,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on you. 

On your face. 

On your lips.

“I thought you wanted me out of here. You don’t want any concubines, remember?” You arched your eyebrow, challenging him.

He leant forwards and your breath caught in your throat, his stormy eyes now all you could see.

“I still don’t,” he murmured and then pressed his lips to yours.

This kiss was entirely different to the Baron’s assault. It was soft and gentle. Coaxing, not claiming. The King’s hands came up to cup your face and you curled your own into the front of his jacket. The heat within you rose in intensity and you kissed him back, opening your mouth and letting him in. He moaned when you did, one hand sliding to your hair and the other to the small of your back, pulling you close to him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal, but it didn’t scare you. In fact it thrilled you. It was all the deepest thoughts you’d kept to yourself come to life, and they took you over. 

Your nimble fingers worked the buttons of his jacket and as they came undone the King let go of you to shuck it off. That was followed quickly by his cravat and waistcoat, thrown without care across your room, and then he pulled his shirt free of his trousers and toed off his shoes. He took you back in his embrace then, kissing you with more passion and your hands found their way under his shirt, stroking across the hard planes of his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in retaliation and you gasped as the brief stinging shot to your core.

“Tell me you want this,” he breathed into your mouth.

“I do,” you whispered back. You’d never been as sure of anything as you were now - consequences be damned. They were a problem for tomorrow.

Part of Bucky couldn’t believe what he was doing, because he really shouldn’t be doing it. He was a King and should be the better person. But, oh, how he wanted to be selfish for once and slake this longing he had for you. 

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from coming to see how you and the Baron were getting on, partially to assuage his guilt and partially to torture himself. When he’d found you both absent from the solar, one of the guards had told him you’d gone for a walk together. As he’d stepped outside and neither of you had been in the closer part of the garden a sense of unease had washed over him. Then he’d heard you shout and raced around a corner to see you pushing at the Baron as he held you against the wall, trying to violate you.

He’d barely been able to restrain himself when he saw that, only daring to separate you and check that you were alright. But then the Baron had started to spew his hurtful, cruel words and his resolve had crumbled. He’d had to make sure you were safe. He’d needed it like air.

Upon getting you inside, he’d told himself that he would just double check that you were alright and then leave, but then he’d seen the bruise on your neck and you’d tried to placate him with talk of trying to find a new suitor and he’d lost any sense of decorum. 

There would be no other husband, no grand house and pension, because you were his. You were his oxygen - his sunlight. His joy and his misery and his desire all rolled into one. So he’d kissed you, almost no better than the Baron, but then you’d kissed him back. Clung to him. You’d made it plain that you wanted him too, first with your actions and then your words.

Mentally calling himself a fool, Bucky spun you around and tugged at the closure of your dress, the multitude of tiny buttons that held it together flying across the room. He didn’t care, though. He could buy you a new dress. A thousand new dresses. He eased the open neckline over your shoulders and pushed the multiple layers of silk down your frame. Taking your hand, he helped you step out of the froth of fabric and you kicked off your slippers at the same time with a giggle that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. 

Bucky pulled you back to him with a groan and walked you towards the bed, laughing with you when you both tumbled onto it with a bounce. Your hands, so small and delicate, found his chest again, and he lent up and pulled his shirt over his head, watching you as your eyes darkened with desire as you took in what you saw. You traced your fingers over the definition of his abdominals and pectorals and Bucky shivered. 

“I want you, Your Majesty.” Your voice was low and breathy, and fuck did he just want to bury himself in you. Feast on you.

“Bucky,” he rasped. “Call me Bucky. There is no King here tonight.”

You came back together, kissing and touching and through it you both messily and awkwardly helped each other remove the rest of the clothes that separated you. As soon as your breasts were bared to him, Bucky couldn’t hold back, latching onto your puckered nipples, one after the other, drawing squeaks and moans from you, more intoxicating than any sounds he’d imagined in his private imaginings. 

His right hand skirted down your body, finding its way between your legs and you opened for him. He moaned around breast as he found your wetness and began to toy with you. Bucky teased your clit and stroked your folds, captivated by how more arousal spilled from you. When he slid a testing finger into you, you gripped his hair and arched into his hand, your soft mewl turning to a strangled gasp and he felt undeniably powerful, a small part of him, one he didn’t want to really acknowledge, feeling as though he was competing with the memory of his father. He was determined to erase it. After tonight there would only be him.

When Bucky added a second finger into your warm channel and circled his thumb on your clit, you whimpered his name. Not ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Sire’, but ‘Bucky’ as he’d asked you. He lifted his head and rose back up your body, capturing your lips and swallowing your cries as he drove you higher and higher. Your hands now clutched his shoulders, your short, manicured nails digging into him, using him as an anchor, lest you float away into the ether. He felt your body quiver beneath him as you neared the precipice of your pleasure and then the next second you were tumbling over it, your body spasming around his fingers, your mouth drawing all the oxygen from his lungs into your own.

Bucky kissed you through it, slowing his hand before pulling it away slowly. He shifted on the bed, kneeling between your limp legs, and as you watched him with hooded, lust filled eyes, he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted your essence. He groaned as he did so, promising himself that he would drink directly from your source soon, but he couldn’t hold back his desire to fully claim you any longer. 

As his hand dropped to his cock, your eyes followed it, and you took your first real look at him. He couldn’t help but smile as your eyes widened and you tentatively raised your own hand towards his erection. He took hold of it and wrapped it around his length, marvelling at how your fingers didn’t meet. Your gaze flicked between his face and his cock, unsure which you wanted to watch. However, after a few minutes it was too torturous, and he repositioned himself to kiss you again and run his cock between your wet folds. Your hips rolled beneath him as you let out small whimpers of need and desire and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Bucky reached between you, lined himself up and sank into your warmth.

The cry of ecstasy you let out caught him by surprise and he looked down into your eyes. The truth shone out of them as you pulled in breath after ragged breath, your body struggling to adjust to his size, despite what he’d done to you only minutes before. He couldn’t really process it, but an animalistic part of him howled in pleasure at the realisation that you’d been untouched and consumed any remaining restraint.

Bucky snapped his hips, watching in awe as your eyes rolled in your head and the breath was pushed from your lungs. It was an addictive sight and he thrust into you again and again, unable to stop, needing to see your reaction. You clutched his biceps as he braced himself, your head thrown back and he never wanted to see you any other way - debauched and ruined on his cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Can you touch yourself for me, sweetheart?”

You mumbled incoherently but did as he’d asked, your hand moving between you, and Bucky knew when you’d found your centre from the way you clenched around him. He groaned at the sensation and let it spur him on. He dipped his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts and when you let out a wail he knew he’d found the right spot.

“That’s it, beautiful. Come apart for me. Come on my cock.” 

You screamed and spasmed around him and his rational brain knew he should pull out and spill himself over the sheets, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not have this. He cried out, throwing back his own head, and surrendered to the inevitable.

It took you a while to come back to yourself, because what you’d just experience was so different from what you’d been told about. The King - Bucky - was cuddled up behind you, his arms holding you close and his nose pressed into your hair, dozing. You turned in his embrace and his long, dark eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” you breathed cautiously, unsure of how you should be acting. However, when he softly smiled at you, you felt your heart leap inside your chest.

“Hello, yourself.” He dropped a gentle kiss to your lips and you smiled in return and relaxed. He was obviously content to stay in your private, intimate bubble for at least a short time more and you were more than happy to indulge him. You didn’t want to think about how you’d feel when this ended, it would hurt too much.

Pushing yourself up onto one elbow you looked down at him and idly traced invisible designs across his chest with your finger tip.

“So, Bucky, huh? Where does that come from?” 

He chuckled at your teasing tone. “From my sister, Princess Rebecca. Or as I call her, Becca-Boo or Sprout. My second name is Buchanan, and when she was learning to talk she couldn’t say it. Whenever she said ‘Bucky’ it would make me laugh, so she kept doing it and then refused to call me anything else. Then my mother picked it up, because if she called me James, Becca would stamp her foot and tell her off. And I liked it. It helped me separate the two parts of myself - Bucky, the normal man with normal wants, desires and hobbies etcetera, and James, heir to the throne, with duties and responsibilities who has to keep himself apart from those around him.”

There was a melancholy tone to his words, and you couldn’t help but bend down and press a light kiss to his lips. “Well I like Bucky.”

He brought his hand up to the nape of your neck, returning the kiss, and you wished that reality could just stay firmly outside for the rest of time.

When Bucky broke the kiss, he looked up at you with searching eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly and you immediately knew what he was talking about. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Does it matter? Would it have changed what just happened between us? Would you have thought differently of me?”

“No, it wouldn’t have changed what just happened, but I won’t lie and say I wouldn’t have treated you differently. I thought harshly of you, driven by jealousy. How could I allow myself to like you, desire you, when you had lain with my father? I was jealous of a ghost for having claimed you first, and I hated myself for feeling that way. That was why I acted coldly to you when we conversed in the solar. What you said. You made it sound as if you’d enjoyed being with him and ugly thoughts filled my head.” Bucky’s brow furrowed as he spoke and you itched to smooth out the lines that formed there.

“Well, it isn’t really the done thing to speak out loud about the King’s impotence,” you pointed out. “Especially with his own son. I was trying to answer truthfully, but without going into detail. And I suppose I did enjoy spending time with him. He may not have been the type of father you wished, or the husband your mother wanted, but he was still a man. We’d talk, mostly. I like to think that I gave him some comfort and companionship. I can’t say that I’m unhappy about the way things turned out.” You looked at him coyly from under your lashes and he laughed.

“You liked being claimed by me? You wanton wretch,” he teased.

“It was definitely different, and much better, than what I’d been led to believe.” He growled playfully, and in one deft move rose up and pushed you back to the mattress, caging you in with his arms. You brought your hand up and brushed the back of it over his cheek. “If I’m going to be a concubine, I’m glad that I’m yours.”

At your words, Bucky reared back, as if you’d slapped him and you immediately started to apologise. “I’m sorry, Sire. I shouldn’t have presumed…” Shame and guilt washed over you at how far you’d sunk into your daydream, and you fought your way out of the sheets. Rising from the bed, you found your shift in the heap of clothing on the floor and pulled it over your head. “I will leave you to your dressing and wait for instructions from Master Coulson later.” You bobbed a curtsey and turned toward the door, your hand reaching for the handle, eager to put space between you.

“Stop!” His command made you freeze mid step, your arm lowering back to your side. In a moment he was behind you, his hands firmly gripping your upper arms.

“You are not my concubine. I never wanted one, and I won’t start now.” He spun you, and when you didn’t raise your head, staring instead at a freckle near his collarbone, he tucked a finger under your chin and made you look at him. “You deserve more than that, my darling.” His tone softened. “You will be my wife. That is, if you will have me?”

You looked at him in shock. “What? How can I be your wife? You are the King and I am, well, just me.”

“And as the King, I can do what I want. And for anyone who gets pedantic about your previous status, there is precedent. Concubines have been turned into Queens before.”

You pulled yourself from his hold, raising your arms up in confusion. “You do not need to speak of marriage, just because you have bedded me and do not want a concubine.”

“This is not solely because we have lain together, sweet fool. I love you.”

His words made you stop and you wondered if you’d misheard, but he continued. 

“I fear I have done since I first laid eyes on you. And I just hope that maybe you can learn to love me too. Bucky, that is. Not just James, your King.” He reached out imploringly toward you. You looked back at him and then at his hand, before accepting it as you stepped forward, a broad smile making its way across your face.

“Learn to love you? That implies that I don’t already. How could I not, even if you were being grumpy and contrary.”

He wrapped you up in his embrace and looked down at you, eyes full of mischief. “Contrary? Is that anyway to speak to your King?”

“It is how a Queen speaks to her husband,” you joked back.

“Is that so? Then I must make you my Queen as soon as possible.” He closed the remaining distance between you, kissing you with vigour before lifting you and returning you both to the bed.

“However, nothing can be done until tomorrow. Whatever shall we do until then?” he drawled with mock innocence.

“I have a few ideas, Your Majesty,” you replied, mimicking his tone.

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @sonatabee-blog, @goldylions, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @apenny4thots, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @wheezy-stucky, @km-ffluv

[ice-mint]

Hotd- Christmas AU

The Targaryen family started the festivities strong with a much needed intervention. Sadly, Alicent continues to deny her addiction to Christmas despite having the house fully decorated since the 1st of November.

Despite of this, she, like everyone else, has decided to leave some gift buying for last minute. Like a lion to an unsuspecting gazelle Daemon stalks Alicent through the whole Toy's R Us to try and steal the last Star Wars lego set of the store.

Aegon and Rhaenyra both have decided te leave the premises the afternoon before Christmas for their safety and peace of mind. It would have been a lovely dinner if the waiter had allowed Aegon to order from the Kids menu, now Rhaenyra will have to talk to the manager and leave a bad review on google maps.

Aemond and Baela are not as fond of traditional celebrations. So just for Christmas (and to take advantage of the 2x1 at the amusement park) they have decided to leave their bad blood behind. Together they can pursue their true passion: Rollercoasters!

Back at the house Daemon and Viserys have been caught cheating at bingo again, this will mark their sixth consecutive year of failing to pull it off. Their wives of course are pissed, they are going to take the "Two Nights in Dorne" experiences package they had as peice and go with each other this time.

It was only right before the Christmas dinner when everyone realised a very important detail...They had forgotten to pick up Lucerys and Daeron from their Boarding School!!!!

The Christmas was a partial success, they had a lovely dinner and everyone got nice gifts the day after.

Daeron on his end had to console Luke about being forgotten, and to think he really believed this was the year his family remembered he existed if only because of Luke's presence...

[boxfullaturtles]

"You knew this would happen, didn't you!? And you just sat there and watched! You let this happen!" "I knew it was wrong to start their mystic training so early, but I didn't know that Donnie would get hurt! Despite what you might think, I can't see the future! I never could!" "Then what is the point of you!? What is the point of all your preaching and warnings and--and THIS!? What is the point of all of it!?" "...hope, Yoshi. The point has always been hope."

does...does this count as 'training'?

anyway uuuhh mark another spot off on @tmnt-event-blog's bingo!

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt 8

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, predatory behavior, teacher/student, bathroom use control, humiliation, omorashi

Summary: Bucky Barnes is young, confused, and conflicted - a real "rebel without a cause" type. His parents ship him off to Steve's reform school to help him get straightened out into a "proper young omega."

Wait! I haven't read an earlier part of this fic! Story Masterlist

I've gotten a couple of asks about the worldbuilding behind this fic. If you'd like to read a little more context about how things are in this world, my answers to the asks can be found here and here

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Part 8

"Extended Suppressant Use in the Omega Patient: a literature review" (Mueller et al. 2019)

The bathroom incident does not give Steve high hopes of an easy first week with Barnes. Many new students wind up requiring extra attention in their early days at the school, so Steve is honestly surprised when he isn’t paged that Tuesday with a similar fiasco. He’s outright impressed when Wednesday and then most of Thursday passes by with no incidents, either. Whatever Sharon’s doing, it must be working well. 

Steve can’t say he doesn’t think about the boy regardless. He can’t help but remember their encounter in the bathroom; holding him down and dominating him into submission, pressing on his belly until he finally lost control. The sounds of the boy’s sweet whimpers are burned into Steve’s memory, the earthy and lightly floral hints of his scent still so easy to draw up in his mind. It’s a good thing that this is a busy week for Steve, otherwise he’d hate to think of how much more preoccupied he’d be by thoughts of his new omega charge. 

As it is, his schedule is chock full, his time eaten up with all of his normal headmaster duties (which are considerable), seeing through the end stages of the Academy’s formal division between the girls’ and boys’ sides, and a renovation that they’ve got going on in the south wing corridor. All of that, coupled with the small squabbles that Peggy manages to come up with on an almost daily basis, helps to keep Steve’s mind occupied. And on top of everything, there’s still a lot to be done for the upcoming parents’ weekend. 

He spends most of that Thursday morning dealing with matters directly related to the event that is, in essence, their biggest fundraiser of the year. All day, he's coordinating with his faculty; making sure that everything’s been ordered, scheduled, and arranged just how it needs to be to give the right impression to their guests, provide the right experience.

It’s crucial that all of the right people be well taken care of over the three day weekend, in order to ensure that their endowments to the school keep flowing in. Steve liaises with his staff over the details of the family picnic, the various assemblies and presentations that will be made, the planned activities for each afternoon and dinners that’ll be hosted each evening, and—perhaps most important of all—the formal presentation ball that caps off the weekend of festivities. This year they’re having a few ice sculptures flown in from Edinburgh. Silly in Steve's view, but a classic touch of extravagance that the guests will appreciate.

European nobility, old-money aristocrats, and even some high profile celebrities have been known to show up to the school’s annual matchmaking ball, always seeking amenable, traditional omega mates for themselves. And when your guest lists regularly include names like Vanderbilt, Kennedy, and Stark, good first impressions become very expensive and very necessary. Last term, a Greek shipping heir worth billions had scooped up one of the graduating class’ students, and once news of that had gotten around, enrollment for the next semester skyrocketed.

Steve takes great pride in the academic education provided by his school, but he’s also a realist: He knows that parents place high value on the promise of even a chance for their offspring to be so suitably matched. That, along with the behavioral outcomes the school is known for achieving, is a big reason why many families elect to send their sons to Carter Academy over other, similar schools on the continent. 

With so much to get done, Steve doesn’t get around to eating his lunch that day until well into the afternoon. He eats alone at his desk—a decision that has very little to do with the fact that he can monitor the school’s video surveillance system from his desktop computer. It’s not because he wants to check up on Bucky and hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the kid since Monday. Nope, not at all. Steve always uses the camera system to check in on the happenings around campus, it’s nothing new. And it’s good practice, anyway. A headmaster needs to be involved in his school for it to run smoothly. 

If Bucky’s seventh period class is gym, and the gymnasium is the first area Steve decides to check, well that’s just happenstance. 

He logs into the system and scrolls through the long list of camera views. He has the most heavily trafficked areas bookmarked, but there are hundreds to choose from, every inch of the Academy’s buildings and grounds monitored by the StarkTec cameras.

Carter Academy has its own dedicated security team to keep an eye on things, of course. Rollins and his men do a very good job of making sure the close to three hundred hormonal teenage boys that the school houses stay in line. Every year there are inevitably fights, students caught in each other’s bedrooms at the wrong hours for the wrong reasons, or a few runaways who gravely underestimate the distance and terrain between Carter Academy and the nearest town. Nothing that isn’t always quickly remedied, but parents appreciate the close eye that Steve and the rest of his administration are able to keep on their children at all hours of the day. 

He navigates to the camera views of the gymnasium and sports complex. The majority of students get scheduled for some sort of physical activity at the end of each school day. Exercise is important for omega bodies, and the gym period is thus positioned after all academic lessons have concluded, to allow for the running off of excess energy. It’s a time when their Handlers can take their well-deserved breaks. With only Mr. Odinson and the other Phys-ed staff looking after so many boys, gym period can get quite chaotic, and it predictably takes Steve a few moments to locate Bucky in the throng. 

Eventually he sees him: loitering off to one side of the indoor soccer field, half heartedly kicking a ball back and forth with the Parker boy. He’s changed into his gym uniform, though he hardly seems to be exerting himself. Rather, he’s in deep conversation with Parker, which Steve is happy to see. Every first year student coming into Carter Academy usually struggles at first, but it’s always a good sign when they make friends quickly. Parker, who can normally be found bouncing off the complex’s obstacle courses, seems to have dialed it down a notch to hang out with Bucky, the two of them talking animatedly between themselves. Steve even catches Bucky smiling a time or two, which lifts his hopes that the kid will assimilate well into his new routine. Perhaps this won’t be as hard as he’d imagined.

“Sir?” 

He flicks off the monitor when his secretary knocks at the door. “Yes?”

“Ms. Carter here to see you, Sir.”

Sharon comes in, and the two of them hold their pre-planned meeting about Barnes’ first days on campus and how Sharon has assessed his needs so far. Barnes is attitudinal, but Sharon seems to be amused by him, more than anything else. She hands over her recommendations for protocol, telling Steve that she’s not sure a male handler wouldn’t be in the boy’s best interest. 

“Oh?” Steve raises an eyebrow as he’s perusing her checkmarks along the list. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve seen what a handful he can be,” Sharon drawls. “Not that I don’t think I can handle him, but he responds more submissively to the male staff, and I think he’s primarily same-sex oriented.”

“You think?” Bucky’s transcripts from his old school had noted that he was equally as promiscuous with boys as he was with girls.

“Yes. And after Monday’s bathroom incident, I think he might do better with a man.” At the mention of ‘the bathroom incident’, Sharon fixes him with a meaningful look. “He responded well with you.”

Steve nods, flipping through the assessment packet. “Yes, well I am the headmaster. They tend to kowtow faster to me.” He tries to think of which male Handlers he has available at the moment. Typically, he doesn't over-prioritize students’ attractions when placing them with a Handler, as romantic attachment is something to be avoided at all costs, but if it’s a behavioral issue that can be corrected with something as simple as the gender of an assigned Handler, then Steve will consider it. “Thank you Sharon,” he tells her, once they’ve wrapped up the meeting. “It sounds like he’s doing alright, so I’ll keep him with you for now.”

“You’re the boss.”

“Alas, yes.” Steve sighs and so does Sharon, mocking him in a friendly sort of way. When she heaves a genuinely heavy inhale and declares that she has to 'get back to the grind', Barnes’ seventh period is almost over, Steve steps in. “Why don't I take him off your hands for the evening?” he suggests. Sharon looks pleased, but not overly surprised, her knowing smirk making Steve feel the need to defend himself, “It’s been a few days now, I should check in with him.”

“Sure.”

Steve frowns at her continued smug expression. “He’s got an appointment with the doc I need to escort him to, anyways.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Sharon is still smirking when she bids him farewell, leaving the office to take the rest of her day off. 

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’s not giving Bucky any more attention than he’d give any other troubled new student. He grabs the boy’s folder and rolls out from his desk, planning to head for the gymnasium complex and intercept him there.

… If he checks his reflection in the little mirror by the door on his way out, it’s only because he always does that and it's habit at this point. It’s the professional thing to do, to make sure one looks put together before heading back out in public. Certainly it doesn’t have anything to do with how he’s heading out to deal with Barnes. That’s just happenstance.

Seeing Bucky again after several days is refreshing, and seeing him being friendly with another student brings a literal smile to Steve’s face. This is a good sign. It bodes well for how Bucky will do adapting to his new life.

Peter Parker can be hyperactive and spirited, but he’s a sweet boy at heart with a solid head on his shoulders and a brain between his ears that he actually chooses to use more often than not. He’s done well in the Academy’s program, and he’ll be an excellent person for Bucky to attach himself to during his time here. Steve stands by the gymnasium door with a delighted smirk on his face, because he really couldn’t have chosen better himself. 

The boys still have a few minutes left to their gym period when Steve gets there, so he leaves them to their uninspired soccer ball kicking and goes to touch base with Odinson in the athletic director’s office. Thor is all smiles and has nothing negative to say about any of the boys, as per usual, and Steve thanks him and tells him to make a note that perhaps Barnes could be encouraged to put a little more effort in and try out the parkour courses or the rock walls with Parker, moving forward.

He intercepts Bucky just as he’s coming out of the locker rooms. His hair is curling at the edges after having showered (amusing—the boy was barely exerting himself) and changed back into his regular uniform. The relaxed expression falls right off of his face when he sees Steve standing there. “Oh,” he says, coming up short. “You.”

Steve smiles indulgently. “Yes, I’m afraid. Me.”

“Hey Bucky I’ll see you at dinner maybe?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says distractedly, eyes still on Steve. “Sounds good.”

Parker heads off with his handler—Natasha, Steve notes, one of the very best and most dominant females he keeps on staff. "Making friends?" Steve asks.

Bucky ignores the question. “Why’re you here?” he asks mulishly, as Steve begins escorting him in the direction of the medical office. “Where’s Sharon?”

“Sharon’s taking a well-deserved break,” Steve drawls. "She and I had a progress meeting about you in my office, just now.” 

Bucky gets tightlipped then and doesn’t say anything, but Steve can see the wheels and cogs turning in his head as he wonders what was said about him. “She had mostly good or neutral things to report,” Steve offers, figuring the boy could use some reassurance. “But of course, I already knew from our interaction on Monday that you're having some difficulties adapting to school protocol.”

Bucky scowls at the floor as they walk. “Just because I don’t like pissing in front of people every day,” he grumbles. “At least we get some privacy to shit around here. Go figure.”

Steve laughs, then decides to strike the fear of God into the boy by remarking, “Oh, that’s a privilege that can be stripped away, too, if needed,” as they approach the end of the hall where the medical offices are. Bucky’s eyes shoot up to him, wide as saucers, and Steve snickers. “Yeah, I know. A true case of a ‘this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you’ punishment, that’s for certain.”

Bucky all but ‘meeps!’ and Steve snickers and puts a hand on his back to guide him into the office. “Appointment for James Barnes,” he tells the receptionist, who immediately starts checking the computer screen.

Bucky turns on Steve, leery, as he gets a look at their surroundings. “What’s going on? Why are we here?”

Steve ignores him until he’s gotten the go ahead from the receptionist and is guiding Bucky back towards one of the exam areas. “Just a check up. Standard practice for incoming students.” He pushes Bucky into the curtained off area and draws the curtain around to Bucky’s squawks of protest.

“What?! I don’t need to see anybody. I’m totally healthy.”

“That’s the goal. But we need to get you checked out, make sure there’s nothing that needs addressed.” Bucky opens his mouth to complain again, but Steve beats him to the chase, bending to pick him up by the waist and depositing his protesting butt onto the exam table. “Sit.”

“Hey!” Bucky’s scowling, but Steve doesn’t miss the light flush in his face at having been manhandled and reminded of his size and comparative weakness in the face of an alpha like Steve. He doesn’t try to get off the table at least, only shifting in annoyance and making the paper cover crinkle under his butt. “Could’a done it myself,” he grumbles.

Steve shakes his head fondly. “We need to get you examined. Behave, or I’ll have no problem with disciplining you while you’re under my care." Bucky goes tight-lipped at that. Steve nods in satisfaction. "Good."

“When’s Sharon coming back?”

“I told you: she’s been given a well-deserved night off. You’re with me until bedtime, young lady.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. What might’ve been considered affectionate a generation ago, now elicits only indignation and pushback. It’s sad. “Just behave for the doctor, will you?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but when the nurse arrives and introduces herself, he’s generally obedient as she runs through his medical history with him. He speaks more quietly when answering the questions about his sexual health, but Steve doesn't get the sense that he's lying—only that he doesn't want Steve to overhear. (Steve still hears everything, including the boy's very reluctant answer of having had "thirty something" past sexual partners).

Far from evoking displeasure, it mostly just makes Steve sad for the boy. Omegas may have very high sex drives, but they don't fare well in promiscuous situations. Bucky's lack of a reliable partner is probably one of the major contributors to his present mental health issues.

Steve remains quiet and allows Bucky his illusion of privacy on the other side of the curtained off area. The nurse listens to Bucky's heart and lungs, charts his blood pressure and other vitals, and takes a blood draw. It isn’t until she hands him a privacy sheet and tells him to undress below the waist that he kicks up a fuss. “What?"

“The doctor will be right in to do the pelvic exam.” 

“What? No. Why?!”

Used to tantrums, the nurse completely disregards him and looks to Steve. “Headmaster?”

“I’ve got him.” The nurse nods and leaves, and Bucky starts to move to try and get off the exam table. Steve rolls his eyes and goes over and pushes him back into place. “Not so fast, son. Now if you can’t behave we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

“What’s the hard way?”

“Strapped face down on a bench,” he tells him, no-nonsense (though really, that's the easier way for omegas. He just knows Bucky will fight it more). “And that'll earn you a guaranteed spanking in my office, after.”

Bucky growls an angry little omega growl at him, “Why do I have to do this? What’s the friggin’ point?!” 

With his hands clamped on Bucky’s shoulders, Steve bends down and gets in his face. “Because you were popping suppressants for two years, Honey. That stuff can cause all sorts of problems.”

“No it can’t!” 

Steve ignores him and gives him a warning look to keep him in place. He reaches down and pulls one of the exam table’s metal stirrups out, which makes the kid even more visibly upset.

When Steve reaches under the skirt of his uniform to get his underwear down, Bucky growls and tries to kick him, nearly kneeing him right in the nose. Oh. That does it. Steve gives up on playing nice, standing up and grabbing him, using one hand to scruff him while he wraps the other around his waist. “Okay, bud. That was your one chance. If you’re gonna be difficult, we’ll do it your way. Let’s go.” 

“Nngh! Lemme go!”

“Calm down, Honey. Stop fighting, it’s not going to work.” 

The kid whimpers and goes limp for a few seconds from the endorphins of the scruff, but still wiggles in Steve’s arms once he’s manhandled him into the next exam room over—where there’s an exam bench quite similar in function to a traditional spanking bench. Bucky balks when he sees it. “No! Wait!” It takes laughably little effort to get the boy face down on the bench. Steve gets him strapped to it, and by the time he’s removing his underwear and securing his ankles, all the fight has left Bucky and he’s begging instead. “Please, Mr. Rogers. I’m really sorry.”

Steve grabs the room’s extra chair and pulls it over to sit by his head. “I know Buck. This won’t take long. Just try to relax.”

“Please lemme up. I’m sorry. I’ll go back. I’ll do it the other way, I will!”

“Can’t do that, Sweetheart. We need to check that everything’s alright and you’ve proven to me that you can’t be trusted to hold still.” He might’ve considered the request to go back and ‘do it the other way’, if he didn’t already know full well that the prone position is much more soothing for omegas to be in. “This’ll be better,” he promises. “It’ll help you stay relaxed. It feels nice to be strapped in like this, yeah?”

“But I don’t want tooo,” Bucky whines, not refuting Steve’s statement, and with less fight in him as he realizes that he’s been stripped of all control. “It’s embarrassing.”

Steve smiles sadly and pets his face. “It’s for your own good, Sweetheart. Something every omega has to do. The doctor’s just going to come in and use a tool to examine you and make sure everything’s alright. It’ll hardly take a minute.”

Bucky sniffles and turns his face into Steve’s hand, nuzzling his inner wrist and subconsciously seeking out the alpha’s scent for comfort. “Will it hurt?” he whispers.

Steve’s heart constricts—both at the question and the scenting behavior. “No, Honey. Of course not. Haven’t you ever had a reproductive health exam?” It’s supposed to be a standard part of healthcare after an omega’s first heat, but with only two beta parents in the home, Steve doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “It won’t hurt,” he reassures him. “Just relax down against the bench and be good from now on, and we won’t do a punishment spanking after, okay?”

“Really?” Bucky is clearly motivated by this promise, as he stops sniveling as much and nods when the doctor comes in. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Steve smiles and praises him,

“Good girl.”

The school’s doctor is a calm and friendly beta male, and though he doesn’t make any attempt to ascertain Bucky’s consent or opinion on what they’re doing there today, he does speak calmly to Bucky and talk him through each and every step of what happens, before it happens. Steve stays sitting right in front of Bucky the whole time, holding his hand and keeping his own wrist up by Bucky’s face so that the boy can continue to use his scent to self-soothe. 

Bucky goes red in the face as soon as the doctor flips his uniform up and starts palpating and examining his genitals. Even though Bucky's almost certainly trying his absolute best not to get aroused, the faint scent of slick still hits the air after only a moment or two, and he cringes and whines in embarrassment. "Hngh ..."

“It’s okay,” Steve murmurs, trying to placate him with the words and a gentle rumble in his chest. “It’s completely normal to have a reaction. The doc's used to it. No big deal.” Frankly, for an omega to be touched between their legs and not become aroused would be cause for concern. They’re so sensitive down there that it’s to be virtually expected. But Steve can tell that this is little comfort to Bucky, who goes even redder in the face when the doctor hums in agreement and makes an additional comment about Bucky's arousal responses being healthy. 

“I’m going to prep the speculum now,” he tells Bucky. “It’ll be cool and hard, but it won’t hurt you.”

Bucky whines in mortification, his eyes clenching shut. Steve shushes him and pets his hair, which he seems to like because he pushes into it and untenses somewhat. Steve knows the precise second that the speculum goes in though, because Bucky's eyes pop right back open and he makes a small, shocked sound of, “Oh!"

Steve cups his face and tries to keep his attention. “Hey, you’re doing so good,” he praises, swiping his thumb at the corner of the omega’s eye, right where an overwhelmed tear has broken out. “Doesn’t hurt, right?” 

Bucky trembles and shakes his head. “N-no.” He whimpers when the doctor does something from behind, and then his eyes go a little unfocused. “Oh …” The next time he whines, it’s verging a little closer to a moan of pleasure than one of sheer worry. “Ohnn… nngh, just … mmm, s’weird.”

Steve tuts sympathetically, slightly aroused himself at seeing Bucky react this way. He clears his throat and tries to remain professional. “I know, Sweetheart, I know it’s a lot. Just hang in there for me.” He meets the doctor’s eyes from over Bucky’s back, shooting him an anxious look. 

The doctor nods. “Everything seems fine, Headmaster Rogers. He’s just a little swollen.”

“Swollen?” Steve straightens, concerned. “Is it bad? He was on oral suppressants for about two years.”

The doctor smirks and shakes his head. “No, not that kind of swollen, Sir.” 

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders untense. "I see." He's maybe read a few too many medical journal articles since Bucky told him on Monday that he'd been on suppressants. "Good. That's ... good."

The doctor hums and looks back down, examining Bucky for another long moment before humming in approval and removing the speculum. Bucky’s back slumps and he makes another tiny noise—this time one of relief. “Is it over?”

The doctor pats his hip with an approving nod. “He’s a healthy boy. Nothing to indicate any lasting effects from the medication.” Over Bucky’s back, he meets Steve’s eyes again. “The risk for complications doesn’t go up very high until after the five year mark. We’ll wait on his bloodwork, but I expect it’ll all come back normal.”

“Oh, good.” Steve can’t help but be relieved. He’s definitely read too many articles, seen too many students come through the school's infirmary with much more serious side effects. “So no chance of infertility?”

“Very low,” the doctor reassures, even as Bucky makes a hurt little sound of concern over hearing that possibility. The doctor rolls his stool out from behind Bucky, pulling off his exam gloves and tossing them in the waste bin. “Nope. He looks perfectly normal, Headmaster, both inside and out. From the state of things I’d say he’s about midway through his cycle. So you can expect a heat within the next two weeks.”

Steve nods. “Yes, he reported as much. He's used an app for tracking on his phone.”

“Oh. Would you email that data?” The doctor is already standing and heading for the curtain that divides their little area from the rest of the room. “It’ll be good to have in his records.” 

“Sure thing. Thanks, doc.”

“Of course.” At the edge of the exam area, he looks back at Steve. “Ahm … he’s fairly aroused right now.”

Steve smirks. “I know.”

“Right.” The doctor glances back at Bucky, then to Steve. “I can send one of the nurses in, if you have anywhere to be.”

Steve shakes his head and dismisses the man. “That’s alright. He’s mine for the evening. I’ll handle it.”

Reassured, the doctor nods and ducks out around the curtain. He’s barely gone for a second before Bucky’s shifting in place on the table. “Um, Mr. Rogers?”

Steve looks back down. Bucky is blinking at him, flustered and uncertain. Steve pats his shoulder. “You did really well, Bucky.” He stands up and goes behind him, over to the room’s glove dispenser. He pulls out one of the large sized nitrile gloves and pulls it on. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uhm. Okay.” Bucky can’t see him from his position, so he wiggles impatiently. “Can you help me to, erm, get off of here?”

“Hmm.” Steve walks over and sits on the doctor’s abandoned rolling stool. He rolls to Bucky’s side, popping into his field of vision and giving him a knowing look. “You sure you don’t want help with this first?” At ‘this’, he lets his gloved hand touch Bucky’s flank, edging closer to his exposed backside. He watches as the boy's eyes widen and his cheeks colors anew. “It’s okay to ask for help,” he reassures. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“I’m not embarrassed,” Bucky lies. 

Steve arches an eyebrow. “You sure? Masturbation isn’t allowed. Did you remember that rule? You need to ask the staff if you need release.”

Bucky huffs angrily. “Why not? Why do we have to ask you guys? Why can’t we just—”

Steve taps his ass lightly, more to get his attention than anything else. “Submission, Honey. We’ve been over this already. That’s what everything here comes back to: learning to depend on somebody who can take care of you and give you what you need. You have strong sexual urges, and that’s okay. It’s completely natural. But you need to learn to turn to your alpha to get your needs met, otherwise they never fully will be.”

Bucky pouts. “You’re not my alpha.”

“That collar around your neck says different. And so does the paperwork your parents signed.” Bucky's face twists into a frustrated moue, stubborn little thing. Steve sighs. “Hey, I know you didn't choose this. I’m your official alpha right now, but one day you’ll find someone you actually want to be with, someone you want to marry and have a family with. All these rules you're learning are just to help you adopt healthy habits. So you can model correct relationship patterns.”

"I already do."

Steve snorts. "Honey, casually sleeping with 'thirty-something' people by your age is not a healthy relationship pattern."

"You just want us all to be lily white virgins."

Steve rolls his eyes as he rolls the stool farther back towards Bucky’s backside. "Certainly not. But hookup culture only serves irresponsible alphas and betas. It doesn't do anything to help you guys with your needs for bonding hormones."

"Another scientific study?" Bucky sneers.

"You got it." Steve looks down, a quick glance showing him what he already knew he’d find: a wet and swollen, little pink rim, clenching hard on nothing. He tuts sympathetically. "Oof. That looks painful."

“Hey, don’t … don’t look,” Bucky complains.

“Oh, hush.” Steve pats his butt—he really does have the sweetest little ass. “You’re very beautiful, Bucky. Every part of you is.”

That, right there, is Steve stepping over the line. Oh, he’s got no qualms about personally appreciating the form of an attractive young omega student, it’s only natural for him to find Bucky beautiful. What’s less appropriate is him commenting on it. Because, to be blunt, not every student in Steve’s care is traditionally attractive. Steve’s still responsible for helping them all equally, and thus it’s always been his policy to avoid complimenting students on their looks when possible. It avoids hurt feelings, subverts any competition between the students who are more naturally prone to jealousy over their shared Alpha headmaster.

But the words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it, and Bucky reacts obviously in the way that he flushes and squirms, instinctively pleased at being approved of in such a way. Steve decides that, since it’s just the two of them alone, he might as well let his guard down a little bit. Bucky’s shown a propensity for skewed thinking, after all, and he needs to be helped to form a positive self image. “You’ve got a lovely body, Buck. Even here.” At ‘here’, he lets his thumb dip a little further into his crack, not touching his hole, but pulling his cheek out enough to get a really good look at the sweet little clench of his rim. Steve hums appreciatively. “Just like the doc said: very healthy.”

Bucky whines and squirms. “Let me up.”

“I can do that. But you’re very wet, Honey.” Steve reaches down between Bucky's legs to glance fingers over his stiff little prick. “And hard.”

“Nnn.”

“You’re not going to have a very pleasant evening if I leave you like this. Are you sure you don’t want some relief?”

Bucky’s body stays tensed, his asshole blurting out more slick from Steve’s hand touching him even just that little bit. He seems to consider it as a real option for a moment, waffling over his decision, but eventually gets out a terse little, “No,” forcing himself to ignore what his body needs. “I don’t.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want you to do it,” he grits.

Steve sighs, not too surprised by that. Bucky’s still resentful of the one person who has complete authority over him. Steve'll probably be the last person he yields to. That’s the way it often goes with the bullheaded kids: they come around to their teachers first, Handlers second, and submit to Steve as their alpha last of all. It’s to be expected, but Steve can’t say he isn’t more disappointed than usual, in this case.

Because he isn't lying to the kid just to improve his self esteem: Bucky really is uncommonly beautiful. A handsome, small but strong boy who is exactly Steve’s preferred type when it comes to omegas. And his scent is … Well, all omegas smell lovely, but Bucky's scent is unusually fascinating.

Ever since that first day in Steve's office, when he'd submitted with such an easily provoked release, Steve’s wanted to get a better sense of him. This would have been the perfect chance to do that. Steve would’ve relished the chance to coax an orgasm out of him today, but if Bucky needs more time to truly relax into it, then he's willing to wait. Not like there won’t be plenty of opportunities in the future, once the boy's sexual urges have built up enough to have him eagerly submitting. 

Steve closes his eyes and takes one last, indulgent inhale of that spiced, floral scent that’s only made stronger by the arousal. Viburnum, he realizes. That’s what it reminds him of. It clings to the edges of the earthy undertones of Bucky's scent, enhancing it to something truly alluring. Regretfully, Steve pats his hip and rolls away on the stool. “Okay,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment come through in his voice. “That’s alright, Sweetheart. I’ll have the nurse sent in to help you.”

“What? No.” Bucky twists his head in the restraints once again to look back at Steve where he’s removing the medical glove and standing up. His eyes widen when he sees the blue glove going into the waste bin, not having realized that Steve had donned it, having literally been prepared to finger him to orgasm. His mouth works helplessly for a moment, open and shut in a loss for words. “I don’t want anybody to do it.”

Steve walks back around in front of him and crouches down to his level, fixing him with a doubtful look. “Well that’s your choice, Honey. But you still won’t be allowed to touch yourself, you do realize that? If you change your mind after lights out tonight, then you’ll have to wait all the way until tomorrow morning to get a staff member to give you any relief.”

Bucky pretends to be unaffected, but Steve can see the brief flash of panic in the boy’s eyes at the prospect of going that much longer without an orgasm. “Fine,” he says, putting on a brave face. “I don’t care.”

Steve isn’t a fool. He knows that Bucky is almost certainly planning to break the rules and touch himself at the first available opportunity. Still, some lessons can’t be taught until mistakes are made and bad behavior corrected, so Steve nods and stands up to start unbuckling the bench’s restraints. “Okay, your choice, bud." 

Bucky climbs off the bench once he’s able to, and Steve hands him his underwear to put on. His little prick is completely erect as he hurriedly pushes the uniform’s skirt back down, and he winces in discomfort as he pulls up the two layers of his underwear and gets them into place on his oversensitive body. “Ugh,” he huffs quietly. “Stupid.”

Steve chuckles, though he honestly feels more pity for the kid than anything. Bucky’s regret over having turned down an orgasm is so obvious it’s near palpable, his scent still rich with arousal. And just like Steve knows without a doubt that the back of the boy's underwear is already getting a wet spot, he also knows that he'll be checking the dormitory’s security feed later that night. With the level of certainty he has over Bucky’s plans to break the rules and touch himself, Steve figures he might as well start planning out what corrective measures they’ll inevitably be instituting as punishment.

“Come on,” he says, putting an arm around the kid’s shoulders and guiding him out of the room. “It’s dinner time. You must be getting hungry.”

Bucky says that he isn’t, but his stomach betrays him by growling loudly not two seconds after.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup. Fic commissions reach out via Tumblr messenger or Kofi.

Event: @sebastianstanbingo Card: sarahowritesostucky Square O4: Floral Scents

@scottishrosefury, @not-that-syndrigast, @lolitsbuckybarnes, @kathy-2005, @stuckysgal, @thenewmissescullen, @sapphirebarnes

[lxclerc]

Mick insta!au - engagement

pairing: mick schumacher x reader rated: fluff

lex's 2k party

Instagram AU

Liked by danielricciardo, gina_schumacher and others

mickschumacher a very special weekend with a very special girl

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mickshumacher driving safely with precious cargo on board

lance_stroll you actually make me nauseous

yourusername 🙄🙄

estebanocon good luck, mate!!

mickschumacher ❤️

Liked by itselenaberri, estebanocon and others

yourusername ready to spend my life with you.

View all 372,728 comments

mickschumacher love of my life ❤️❤️

yourusername i love you forever

user1 OH MY GOD THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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yourusername thank you so much, seb 🥹 you're godfather of future little micks

user2 WHY IS SHE ALREADY TALKING ABOUT BABIES IS SHE PREGNANT

user3 bestie i have a minimum of three breakdowns today, dont do this to me

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yourusername danke, my love

user3 HOLY CRAP THIS WAS NOT IN MY BINGO CARD

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yourusername trust me, i have not stop crying since this ring touched my finger 😭

Liked by charles_leclerc, gina_schumacher and others

mickschumacher thank you for saying yes ❤️

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yourusername i will literally start crying again

mickschumacher ❤️

gina_schumacher Y/N! I CANT WAIT FOR YOU TO BE MY SISTER!

yourusername i adore you so much, gina

charles_leclerc congratulations, mate! ❤️ Liked by mickschumacher

carlossainz55 drinks on me! congrats, cabron! ❤️ Liked by mickschumacher

user1 my literal parents oh my god

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lance_stroll no i am

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[nicoline1998enilocin]

Control

PAIRING | Boyfriend!Young!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.7K

SUMMARY | Your boyfriend has asked you to take over the control in the bedroom, and you're more than happy to do it. You two go down an incredible path of exploring what he likes and loves and discovering what it's like to put your trust in someone else's hands. In the end, you both learn a lot about the other person and will happily do it all over again.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | No powers AU, established relationship, use of nicknames (Love/My Love, Sunshine, Puppy),

SMUT | Dom!Reader, Sub!Tony, subspace, discussion of safewords, safewording, use of traffic light system, light bondage (tied up with a scarf), begging, dirty talk, praise/praise kink, degradation, light teasing, edging, Mommy kink, spanking, anal play, anal fingering, cumming untouched/prostate orgasm, aftercare

A/N | @ccbsrmsf1: This fic is dedicated to you because you have helped me immensely by giving me inspiration, proofreading, and suggesting this hot as f*ck GIF for this one! I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when writing it 💙

EVENTS Masterlist | @anyfandomkinkbingo | "Just hold me." Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo Wild | Reassuring touches Masterlist | @marvel-smash-bingo | Domination

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @duckbuttt

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

It's been a hectic week for both of you at college, but you're happy to finally have a night of peace together as you sit in his single-person dorm, glad to have the place to yourselves. You haven't often slept over at each other's dorms, but you enjoy every night you can spend together even more.

You just finished eating Chinese takeout together, and now you're both sitting on his floor playing a board game, one of your favorite activities. Tonight is 'Clue' night.

Since neither of you plans to go out the door tonight, you're already wearing your comfiest pajamas, and Tony is also wearing a simple, cozy outfit. He made your favorite tea, and soft music is playing in the background—the perfect setting for a relaxed evening together.

However, you're unaware that Tony is scraping together every last bit of courage to bring up a topic of conversation that has been swirling around in his mind for a while: he would like to explore what it's like if you dominate him in the bedroom. He's used to doing things the 'traditional' way, and even though that blows both your minds every single time, he would like to give you some control in that aspect.

He has thought about this conversation countless times, and in every single one, you're entirely supportive, but he can't get himself to say the words for some reason. When you're about to take a sip of your tea, looking over your Clue chart, he finally finds the courage and brings up the topic he's been desperate to talk about forever.

''Sunshine?'' he starts confidently and is proud of himself for sounding that way, though that confidence doesn't last long. You look up at him expectantly and give him a reassuring smile to let him know you're listening.

''I- I- Do you- No, I'm going about this all wrong,'' he mutters to himself, and you can see he's struggling with something, though you're not sure what that is exactly. A red blush spreads over his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his body because he cannot even ask you a simple question.

''What's wrong, Love? Is everything okay?'' you say, the game you were playing forgotten as you crawl over to where he's sitting before taking your place in front of him. You take his face in your hands to calm him down now that the nerves are completely taking over, your brows knitted together as you're getting worried.

"I-I want to ask you something," he whispers, his eyes cast down as he's a bit nervous to look at you when he asks the question. Giving up control is not something he's used to, but something he desires all the same, so he knows he has to ask it, no matter how difficult it is.

"And what would you like to ask me?" you ask softly, and he looks up at you. His cheeks still warm at the idea of asking his burning question.

"Are you okay with taking control during... you know..." his voice trails off near the end. Even though you know what he wants to ask you, you still like him to say it. Seeing him all flustered like this has you feeling some way, and you cannot get enough of it.

"During...?" you say, trying to coax the words out of him.

"During sex," he whispers. You two have had plenty of conversations about sex before, and it is not a taboo subject for either of you by any means, but Tony's not used to giving up control - or asking for what he wants, for that matter. He looks cute doing it, though, making your heart flutter.

"You want me to take control during sex?" you ask the question just to be sure, and he nods in response. The color on his cheeks seems to deepen even further, and you decide to have mercy on him.

"I would love that, My Love, but I would like to prepare beforehand to ensure we're both comfortable and not doing anything either of us isn't okay with. I'd love to discuss it first to see what you have in mind and go from there. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Tony sighs as if a huge load has been lifted off his shoulders. Your reaction is exactly what he hoped for, and now you'll spend the rest of the evening discussing your plans instead, your board game long forgotten.

"So, I can only assume you've thought about what you want me to do because I already have a lot of plans, but I want to hear about your ideas first, My Love," you tell him, and he feels the blush on his cheeks burning brightly.

"Y-yeah," he responds in a soft tone, and it makes your heart melt. Tony's shy side never ceases to amaze you; you can't get enough of it. When he finally finds the courage, he tells you how he wants you to give him pleasure in every imaginable way. From light anal play to you fucking him deep and hard with a strap-on and from tying him up to blindfolding, everything passes the revue.

That night, you and Tony had an exciting night as you two discussed your shared fantasies, and it ended with a slow, love-filled session of sex, during which he could not stop telling you how much he loves you and how amazing you are.

"Nat? Do you have time to go shopping with me?" you ask your best friend and roommate, and she practically runs into your room, finding you in front of your closet.

"Shopping, you say? Is there anything specific you're hoping to find when we're out?" she asks, and you chuckle at her words. She knows you only go out to shop when you're going on a date with Tony, and you need to look your best, so her curiosity is immediately piqued.

"Yes. But please don't laugh when I say what it's for," you tell her, and she nods as she sits on your bed.

"Well, I'm hoping to pick out a beautiful set of lingerie that will ensure Tony goes crazy when he sees it. He has asked me to dominate him in the bedroom, and I guess I want to look... presentable when I do," you say, eyes trained on the floor as you do.

"Really? I have to say, I never thought he would be into that! You? Absolutely, but him? I'm surprised," she says as if discussing the weather. You know Natasha won't judge when it comes to things like this, but it's still not something you're used to talking about.

"I'm going to invite Wanda too, and we'll make it a girls' shopping trip," she tells you, immediately grabbing her phone from her pocket. Not even five minutes later, it is all arranged, and you two will meet Wanda at the lingerie store.

"Thank you," you whisper as you look at her, and she gives you a reassuring smile.

"That's what best friends are for!" she says, pulling you into a comforting hug. You're still very grateful to have been paired with Natasha as a roommate because you couldn't have wished for a better person to be there for you.

Once you're in the store, you have tried on countless color variations and sorts of lingerie, from two pieces to bodysuits, and you have had every color of the rainbow, but nothing seems right—until Wanda picks a beautiful red piece off the rack.

"How about this?" she says enthusiastically as she walks over to you, and you gasp at the sight of it. The delicate lace combined with the ribbon in the middle and the deep red color makes you fall in love with it immediately, so you go to the fitting room to try it on immediately.

Not long after, you walk out, smiling broadly as you show Nat and Wanda the lingerie. You look like you're glowing now that you're wearing the perfect lingerie, which looks like it was made to fit your exact measurements. Every tattoo is beautifully shown, and the low back also shows off the large phoenix on your back.

"I think we've found the one!" you tell them excitedly, agreeing it's perfect. When you're back in the fitting room, you give Tony a little sneak peek of what he'll be seeing. The red lace compliments your skin beautifully, and he almost choked on his drink as he received the photo. He is out for lunch with Bruce and Clint, but when he opens the photo, he can't concentrate on anything other than you.

When the little heart-eye emoji pops up in your messages, you smile again before changing into your everyday clothes. Once the lingerie is paid for, all three of you decide to go for lunch, and it just so happens that you choose the exact restaurant where Tony is as well.

As you push open the door, Tony looks over to see who's coming in. His whole demeanor changes the second your gazes cross each other. He sits up straight and can't help but smile, and both Bruce and Clint know exactly who just walked in the door without looking.

"Hi, Sunshine," Tony says as he gets up to greet you. His lips crash on yours in a possessive, needy kiss, his hand cupping your cheek as he does. His tongue immediately licks the seam of your lips, and you happily let him in. You can taste the drink he was enjoying just now.

"Hi, My Love," you whisper after he pulls away, and you sit opposite him in their booth. It's good that they still need to order their lunch because now all six of you can enjoy it together.

"So, did you get something special for me?" Tony asks you, and you nod. Even though you know he has seen your photo in the lingerie, you can't resist playing along.

"Sure did; I picked something beautiful for you, My Love. And I picked up some other things to make it even more special," you tell him with a wink, and you can tell Tony's mind is going into overdrive at the thought of what you possibly could have gotten. You picked out a few regular candles, a scented candle, some massage oil, and a scarf to put to some good use, and you're looking forward to the moment you'll be able to use it.

The lunch is spent laughing and gossiping among your friends, and you could tell something was going on between Bruce and Natasha, but you decided to put a pin in that and ask her about it another time. You're all spending time together; your afternoon couldn't have been any better.

"Are you ready, My Love?" you ask Tony when you leave the bathroom. You have put on the lingerie you bought a few days ago, your hair is pulled back, and your make-up is darker than usual, but it's giving you a sultry look that has Tony's cock twitching anticipation already. You have instructed him to sit on his knees in the middle of the bed, his hands folded behind his back.

"Look at you sitting there, so pretty for me, Puppy," you tell him, and the bright red blush you love so much has appeared on his cheeks. His cock is standing at attention against his abdomen, and you can tell he's painfully hard already, but you'll be taking care of him soon enough.

"Can you tell me about your safewords?" you ask him, and he nods.

"We'll be using the traffic light system, so green means that I'm good and we can continue, yellow means a small break to adjust or reposition if necessary, and red means stop and moving into aftercare," Tony tells you softly, and you nod.

"You're right, Puppy. What's your color?"

"Green," he tells you, and you nod. Before you move on, you do a last scan of the room, and every candle burns. Soft music plays in the background, and you have a towel, massage oil, water, and food ready for aftercare.

"I want you to lie on your stomach for me, Puppy, so I can massage you to get you to relax a little. It's new to both of us, so I want to go slow today." Your voice is sturdy despite the slight nerves swirling in your stomach.

"Okay," he whispers, and he moves to lie down on his stomach, his cock trapped between his stomach and the sheets as he does. When he is in position, you drizzle some massage oil on your boyfriend's calves and thighs, watching the muscles flex as the cold substance hits his skin.

"Color?" "Green, Sunshine," he sighs, and you move to massage both his legs, starting with his calves before moving up to his thighs. You take your time to massage every inch of him, relaxing him as you do. Soft moans leave his lips as your fingers dig carefully into his flesh.

The dusting of hair on both his legs makes you chuckle as your fingers run over it, as it feels soft under your fingertips. When it's time to massage his back, you put a little more oil on it before running your hands over it with long strokes, and you can feel the nerves and tension leave his body with every passing moment.

After you've thoroughly massaged his back, you move down, ready to pay some special attention to his butt.

"Are you okay with me massaging your butt and some light anal play?" you ask him, and he has told you beforehand that's something he's willing to explore - though you still ask to be on the safe side, in case he has changed his might.

"Yes, Sunshine," he whispers, and you lean over his body to grab the small bottle of lube you have put there in advance. Your hands are still slicked up from the massage oil, so you first take your sweet time to massage each cheek before landing a playful slap on each, making him moan a little louder from the pleasure he's feeling.

"Sit on your hands and knees, Puppy. Show me what a good boy you can truly be for me," you order. Even though it takes him a few moments to adjust to the new position, you're delighted with the sight in front of you.

Tony's buttcheeks are spread open beautifully, exposing his puckered hole for you, and his cock is hanging under him, fiery red and already leaking pre-cum. There's a wet spot on the bed where it was trapped underneath his body, making you clench your thighs at the sight. He's been enjoying himself more than you thought he would have.

"Spread your legs for me, Puppy," you tell him, and he does as he's told. However, instead of moving on to pleasure him with your fingers, you get off the bed to grab a long, thin scarf you brought with you for tonight.

"Since I will bring you all the pleasure, I will tie your hands together. You will do what I say when I say it, and I do not expect any talkback unless I ask you a question. Do you understand?" you tell him sternly, and you can see his cock twitch at the way you're talking to him. It doesn't quite come naturally to you yet, but you still enjoy it at the same time.

"Y-yes, Mommy," he whispers, his eyes clenched shut.

"What did you say? You need to speak up; otherwise, I can't hear you, Puppy. And I know for sure you can talk louder than that," you say, and he finally looks up at you, eyes glossy and his mouth slightly slack. It finally dawns on you to know how much he enjoys it, and your panties are officially ruined as a gush of arousal soaks your panties.

You look at him with a raised brow. Even though it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, he finally manages to say them properly, and you're very proud of him.

"Yes, Mommy, please tie me up," he says as he looks wholly fucked out already, and you have barely touched him apart from the massage. The anticipation has him trembling slightly, so you decide to take a bit of mercy on him, swiftly tying his hands to one of the bars on his headboard.

"Look at you, Puppy, you're fucking beautiful like this," you praise Tony, and he whimpers softly at your words. He's leaning on his elbows, and his ass is perfectly presented now that he's sitting like this.

"What's your color?" you ask when you take your place behind him again, seated on your knees between his spread legs.

"G-green," he croaks out, and you smirk at his response. The sight in front of you is nothing short of perfect, and you're glad he asked you to do this—you'll definitely be doing more of it in the future, too.

"So beautiful, Puppy," you whisper as your hands glide over his cheeks, and you can't resist the urge to give a nice spanking on them, marking them with your handprints in the process. As your hands make contact with his plush flesh, you feel a jolt of electricity going through your body, and the sheer power you're currently having over your boyfriend has you on the edge of orgasm already, and tonight isn't even about your pleasure.

"More, Mommy, please!" Tony begs you, but instead of spanking him again, you take hold of his balls, catching him by surprise as a soft gasp leaves his lips.

"What did I say? You don't talk unless you're being talked to," you remind him, and he nods. You roll his balls in your hands, giving them a gentle tug and squeeze every now and again that has Tony gasping and moaning within no time, his cock only leaking more and more pre-cum as you do so.

"You close, Puppy?" you ask him, and he nods. He only needs a little more to cum, but just before he can, you pull your hand away, leaving him on the edge of an orgasm with a whine.

"It's okay, Puppy, I'll let you cum later. First, I'm going to have some fun with this beautiful, tight hole of yours, and if you're a good boy for me, I'll let you cum in my mouth so I can swallow every last drop of that delicious cum of yours."

You reach over to grab the lube, and you flip the top open, ready to put some lube on your fingers to open him up slowly, ready to take your fingers before you allow him to cum.

"What's your color?" you ask as you see him jerk as he hears the lube.

"G-green," he whispers shyly, but you don't entirely believe him, giving him the chance to try again.

"Tony, can you tell me your color? It's okay to need a break," you tell him, reassuring him as your fingers softly glide over the side of his thigh, his entire body trembling in the moment.

"Yellow," he says as he drops his head, ashamed of having to speak safeword right now. He goes to sit on his knees, his head hanging between his upper arms, a blush spreading over his cheeks from embarrassment.

"Can you tell me what's going on, My Love?" you say as you crouch next to the bed, your face on the same level as his while your hand runs soothingly over his back. Concern is all over your face as you look at him, and your heart hurts slightly at the sight.

"I'm very nervous. Please just hold me for a moment," Tony asks. You nod in understanding before moving onto the bed and by his side, holding him now that he needs it most.

"That's okay; you're allowed to be nervous. We're only doing this for the first time, and I'm proud of you for safewording when you need a break. I promise you that you're doing amazing right now," you tell him, your free hand cupping his cheek, and your thumb runs soothingly over his cheekbone.

"Thank you," Tony whispers almost inaudibly, and you smile reassuringly. You lean in for a soft kiss, which he happily reciprocates as his mind calms down and the nerves slowly seep out of his body. He trusts you completely with everything, but it was too much for him right now, and he's glad you stopped when he needed it - and that you gave him the space to take the break he wanted.

"There is no need to thank me, My Love. This is what we do: We trust each other and listen when others need it. Love is a two-way street, and we're on this together," you tell him, and he nods.

"I love you, Sunshine," he tells you, and you smile brightly at his words. The butterflies in your stomach go wild at the sight of your boyfriend, who willingly puts every ounce of his trust into your hands.

Once Tony has given the all-clear to continue, you have taken your place behind him again, and he's wiggling his butt in anticipation of what's to come. There's an apparent change in his behavior, and you know the small break did him well. He drank a few sips of water before moving on, and he felt a lot better than before.

"Ready, Puppy?" you ask after slicking up your index finger with the lube you opened earlier.

"Yes, I'm ready," he says to you, and you spread his cheeks with your free hand, the other one moving to slick up his puckered hole as well. The moment your finger makes contact with the rim, he gasps at the cold feeling of the lube on your finger, and you chuckle.

"Keep breathing for me, Puppy," you tell him when you notice he's holding his breath, and he does with a long exhale. He wasn't aware he was holding his breath, and he inhaled deeply as you massaged his rim.

Your gaze is laser-focused, and you bite down on your bottom lip when you slide in the tip of your index finger. Tony rocks back against your finger, trying to get more of it after a bit of taste, but you don't give him the satisfaction of doing that.

"Stay still, Puppy. I'm the one who decides the pace right now, and you're going to take whatever I'm giving you," you reprimand him, and Tony whimpers at your words.

After a short moment, you pick up where you left off, your free hand kneading the flesh of his butt as you slowly and carefully stretch him further on your finger until you can comfortably work two of them in. You let out a content hum as you feel his walls pull around your fingers, and you suddenly understand why he loves using his fingers on you.

"That's it, Puppy, you're doing so well for me," you praise him as you find his prostate. Your fingers gliding over it earn you a loud moan as he pushes his hips back, wanting you to do it again.

"You like that, huh? Does my Puppy like it when I play with his ass until he cums like a fucking slut? Yeah, I knew you were nothing more than a little hole for me to play with until you cum for me," you say as you slowly work him up to his orgasm.

"M-Mommy, please!" Tony begs when he's close and doesn't need much to reach his high.

"What do you want, Puppy? Let me know what you want. No, beg me for it like a pathetic little slut," you order, and he slips even further into the fuzzy headspace as you do. He enjoys it and wants to stay in it forever, having you take care of him forever when he's like this.

"M close, Mommy, l-let me cum! Please, spank me, Mommy!" he says, and you're going to be forgiving to him this time. Just as your fingers work over his prostate again, you smack him hard on his ass with your free hand, and he cums with a loud, broken moan.

Endless ropes of his cum paint his sheets as his cock keeps twitching, and his hips rut against your fingers as you work him through his orgasm, praising him endlessly. When he's spent, he collapses to the side, careful not to trap his sensitive cock between his thighs by accident.

"That's it, Puppy, such a good boy! You listened so well to Mommy. You're beautiful when you cum for me like this," you tell him as you pepper his entire body with kisses, reassuring and praising him constantly as he catches his breath. You quickly untie his hands, so he has his free range of motion back.

You come to lay behind him, pulling him close to your body as you act like the big spoon, though in reality, he's still a lot bigger than you are. Despite this, his hand seeks out yours, and he laces his fingers together with yours when he finds it, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand.

"You did so well for me, My Love; you listened so well," you tell him. The two of you stay like that for the good part of 15 minutes as you keep praising him to ensure he comes down from his high carefully, not wanting him to crash.

"Can you sit up for me, My Love? You need to drink some water and eat some strawberries; it'll give you your strength back," you tell him, and he nods slowly. With slow movement he sits up against the headboard, his thighs spread a little to not hurt his cock.

"That's it, such a good boy for me," you whisper as he takes a few sips of water between each strawberry. He moans at the taste exploding in his mouth, the sweetness coating his tongue with every bite.

"I'm going to run a bath for you, okay? I'll be right back," you tell him, and he nods. The bath is drawn in a few minutes, and Tony sits in it to relax after your scene. You brought his water and the strawberries, which he's now happily munching on while sitting and soaking in the bath.

"I love you so much, Sunshine. Thank you so much for doing this," he tells you, and you smile brightly at him. The sparkle in his eyes shows you everything you need to know, and you could not be happier about how everything turned out.

While Tony is enjoying his bath, you change his sheets and prepare a comfortable outfit for both of you before preparing the couch with your favorite blanket and more snacks to enjoy as you watch a movie.

Once Tony is done, he dries off quickly before putting on the outfit you put on, which matches yours. As a surprise, you bought matching cozy pajamas for the two of you, making you look adorable together. Tony lets himself fall onto the couch in his dorm, and you quickly sit next to him before putting the blanket over your legs.

"Thank you for everything tonight, Sunshine. It was truly a beautiful experience. And most of all, thank you for trusting me enough to explore these things. I know I couldn't have done it without you," Tony tells you as you're curled against his side.

"I should be thanking you for trusting me, My Love. You have been very brave in doing this and also for safewording when you needed it. I'll be looking forward to doing this again in the future, though, because it was a lot of fun to explore this together," you tell him, and he nods.

He leans down to capture your lips with his in a featherlight kiss, but it conveys every ounce of emotion and love his words can't. That night, you two watch a movie while cuddling up on the couch, eating the snacks you prepared, and laughing endlessly without a single care.

Just as you're about to reach for another snack, you suddenly get nauseous before making a beeline for the toilet. Little do you know that the future you're dreaming of is closer than you could ever imagine, and your world will be turned upside down for the better when it does. With your boyfriend by your side, you can get through everything life throws your way, though, no matter how significant it might be.

[renegad3rogu3]

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Today's entry, College AU

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I imagine him as an activist, prob would be out there in a tent with the water jug rn standing up for what he believes in. Feel like he's a liberal arts major, in the writers club, and helping out the student counsel. Definitely volunteers. Friends with everyone, but they fall in love so easily and he's just wanting to do him (or maybe he has his eyes set.om a certain... Someone?)