#buckybarnesbingo2023

[buckets-and-trees]

Desperate [Bucky x Reader]

Fandom: MCU Title: Desperate Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader Word Count: 3k 

Summary: Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Content Warnings: kidnapping, sex pollen ergo DUBIOUS CONSENT, sexual situations (named acts, non-explicit depictions of vaginal sex), medical elements (needles, IVs, experience of medical distress)

Thank You Notes: BIGGEST SHOUT OUTS to @sgt-seabass who beta loved this into what it is and @vonalyn who helped supply me with some of the vital energy I needed. This was SUPPOSED to be an answer to this little sleepover ask @povlvr had graced me with... but then it became this! Logistical Notes: Filling my eleventh square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y2 "Reluctant Teamwork" and @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer Week 9 which is technically a "FREE WEEK" but had sex pollen listed as one of the suggested things to play with, so... that's why we're here now.

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You were an old SHIELD contact that Steve knew before Project Insight. He didn't know you well then, but you had crossed paths a few times. You were an analyst sometimes assigned to Steve's missions. You went to work for the CIA after the Triskellion takedown, where you stayed for a couple of years, before eventually moving into the private sector.

When Steve, Nat, Sam, and Wanda were outlaws on the run, they bumped into you again, and you became an ally and valuable contact in your new area of the country - and ultimately a friend. And trusted enough that you knew about Bucky - and Bucky heard about you.

Bucky didn't love that you were an element in Steve's life. He hadn't met you, hadn't been able to get his own read on you. 

He'd been wary initially about Nat, Sam, and Wanda, but he'd been able to meet them and build his own trust - and they'd all ultimately put their lives and reputations on the line for him. 

It wasn't that he was distrustful of everyone anymore and needed people to put their lives on the line to prove themselves. Those who had sided with Steve over Tony in the Zemo affair aside, he'd also learned to trust others again in Wakanda with so many of the royal family and the royal guard building relationships with him. 

But with you he didn’t know you, and so he didn't like it.

What Bucky loathed even more? 

You didn't blip out. For five years, you were there for Steve when he couldn't be. You were apparently there so much that when Steve left, he fucking said to watch out for you. The punk.

Bucky didn’t know Steve dropped in on you, too, and asked you to keep an eye out for Bucky the day he gave Sam the shield. You promised you would.

You reached out. Not immediately, but in the weeks after.

Bucky was... less than kind.

Frankly, he was surly, ungrateful, short, and rude. 

Pieces were moving and with Bucky's reappearance in the United States, the question of his future was an immediate concern. Public and government representatives were demanding trials, pardons, and all the rest.

You told him you had found an excellent contact for a lawyer.

"No, thanks, I can find my own," the words were polite, but the tone was clipped, flat, low - almost a growl. 

Being so abruptly shut down, you decided to cut the phone call first and on your terms, so you wished him luck - managing to be more polite than him, making it sound genuine - and hung up.

You called Matt Murdock yourself, and told him about Bucky's case.

You did it only because of your promise to Steve.

And a little bit because you knew you were fucking right and that Bucky needed your lawyer contact. 

Matt chuckled, told you he knew about stubbornness, and that he'd go about approaching the Winter Soldier diplomatically and professionally.

Matt pulled off the best possible pardon deal, even if not everything about it was ideal.

When Pepper decided to get back into some of the Avenger support again - after the Flag Smashers business - so she could provide some more trustworthy resources for Sam and Bucky and the old crowd, you were one of the people she ended up scouting and recruiting to come work on the direct home support team with research and tactical support. Sometimes you went into the field with the team, but usually you stayed at home base and relayed with the agents over comms. 

This was not because you weren't outstanding, but because it was clear the less time you and Bucky spent in proximity to each other, the less awkward it was for everyone else on the team. You were both professional enough to keep the animosity out of things during a mission over comms, and that was about it. 

Otherwise, it was silent treatment and resentment.

Neither of you extended the woes of your dislike for each other actively to anyone else on the team, keeping your mouths shut about your feelings, and engaging in only occasional and minimal eye-rolling when either of you was mentioned. Bucky made a point of giving you electrolyte-enhanced waters first whenever you did go into the field on a mission with them, as if you were a toddler who couldn’t take care of yourself. 

Sitting by you at a holiday dinner at Sam’s you almost thought there was a moment of thaw between you and the Winter Soldier, but you didn’t push the almost comfortable silence between you to anything more - knowing it had been long-established he only tolerated you. It was clearly only a temporary pause, meaning very little as Bucky continued to push for you not being put into the field with them. You didn’t need to be around his close scrutiny. He made getting over any initial crush you might have had on him very easy. 

Things were fine like that for a little over a year. 

And then you were abducted on your way back from a mission outside of Paris where you had been part of the local ground team, taken and smuggled out of the airport. It was not HYDRA this time, just leftover cretins who blipped away but now were back, stirring up their own operation which hoped to double down on being even more nefarious. They were interested in testing some of their new methods and resources while also trying to extract some sensitive information.

Why not kill two birds with one stone by snatching up a well-connected and informed analyst at the heart of the neo-Avengers operation?

They recovered files from debunked HYDRA facilities (hard drives were wiped, but motivated hackers knew how to dig beneath what had been wiped to recover remnants - in hindsight, SHIELD should have taken the tech to a secure location) and developed an even more concentrated and powerful form of sex pollen. They were interested in how it would be absorbed in both the aerosol and liquid forms they had developed. Why not try out both forms on you? 

The aerosol was potent enough, but not in a way that would break you for their line of inquiries.

So, they injected it right into your veins.

Compounding with what had already been ingested into your system, everything intensified, and you - much more quickly than they anticipated - moved past what may have been a state where they could've coaxed the information they wanted out of you. 

Quickly you progressed to the point where you were consumed by this toxin, your body raging and desperate for the physical activity that will get you to a sexual release and flush the toxin from your system. You were keening and moaning and crying, covered in sweat, straining painfully against your bonds, unable to focus on anything anyone said to you. 

You were incoherent and not far from feral. 

Having gone beyond the point you could be giving them intelligence, you were still useful to provide information as the test subject, and they kept you on it through an IV drip to see the limits of what an average female body could take before it was completely broken.

You had absolutely no sense of how long this went on, only that you were not even crying tears anymore, just dry sobbing and wailing, because everything in your throat, and in your veins, and in your chest, and in your vagina burned. 

It was an agony you'd never experienced in your life. 

You vaguely registered a cacophony of sound around you, but it was like it was coming to you through a long dark tunnel, distorted and distant, and you couldn’t open your eyes to see what is going on, not that you could even think to or were capable of caring about anything other than the desperate purgatory you were enduring until you finally passed out.

Bucky and Sam were nearly back to base ops in New York from the Paris mission when the news of your abduction came through, and they turned around immediately. Teams working at home and in Paris - and Bucky in the air while Sam piloted - narrowed your likely whereabouts down to two locations: somewhere near Versailles (because of course evil operations are drawn to the ideas of opulence) or a compound outside of Brussels. 

Time already against them, Sam and Bucky made the tough decision that they needed to split up so they could investigate both options as quickly as humanly possible. Sam dropped Bucky at the well-equipped safe house less than an hour away from the suspected Versailles compound and then headed to Brussels.

After arming himself to the teeth as quickly as he could, Bucky fired up the Ducati in the garage of the safehouse that had been equipped with a noise dampener by your tech engineers, punched in his navigational coordinates, and pushed to top speeds to get to there, stashing the bike half a kilometer away so he could make the rest of the approach in complete stealth.

The operation was much smaller than he anticipated, but because of its size it was almost immediately apparent to Bucky that this was where they had you, and he was also confident he would be able to drop this operation and get to you without as much trouble as he expected.

But in no way could he have predicted the state he would find you in.

He heard your agonizing cries and keening within moments of entering the facility, and he'd already dropped four agents at that point, but the excruciating pain he heard from you was its own form of torture in itself. 

He picked up the pace, tearing ruthlessly through everyone else that came between him and you.

He got the full view of the condition you were in only moments before you passed out. He quickly undid all the bindings and removed everything they had attached to monitor your vitals. He unhooked the IV drip but had the presence of mind to take the bag for testing later. It was inelegant, but he hefted you over his shoulder, and everyone else still conscious who got in his way of getting you out was incapacitated with a single kill shot.

It was close to midnight when he reached the safe house and carefully tucked you into one of the beds. He pulled a secure laptop and some of the base medical testing equipment into the bedroom and kept watch over your catatonic form while he started running tests on the substance you’d been hooked up to and sent the base data for his samples to the bioengineering team back at HQ.

Over the next hour your body experienced a few fits of violent shaking, but you didn’t rouse until almost 2am. When you did, it was with great heaving gasps, and your arms flailed, your hands grasping at the sheets, at your clothes, and then at Bucky when he appeared almost immediately at your side trying to soothe you. He had a theory he hoped wasn’t true – that he knew what was running through your veins – but it was confirmed when you clutched and pawed desperately at him. Then your eyes met his, there was a recognition but coupled with devastating desperation, and you started babbling his name and pleading, “Bucky, please, Bucky. Need. Bucky, help. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky.”

He’d been in distress over you since he first heard your tortured cries hours before, and he knew you needed him.

He wouldn’t deny you. 

He knew the anguish of being a slave within one’s own mind. 

He worked both of you out of your clothes quickly, and then laid you back on the bed and crawled above you. “I gothcu, shh, I know what you need.” You cried, but with a glimmer of relief, when he sunk into your desperately wet cunt. He thrust diligently into you while you clung to his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

The first orgasm was quick, and provided a glorious wave of relief that helped, but it was not enough. 

Not even close.

For nearly two hours he let you use him, pulling him into you, riding him, kneeling under him on all fours while he wrapped an arm around your waist and took you from behind. 

It was relentless fucking until you hit the point of being utterly depleted – mercifully coinciding with when the chemicals seemed to have finally been flushed from your system with enough of the endorphins released into your bloodstream from the numberless orgasms. 

If anyone but a super soldier had found you, Bucky genuinely worried they may not have been enough to help. Seeing you at the utter extreme of limits, in dangerous territory, had shaken something inside him he wasn’t prepared to discover. There had been no question in his mind that he had to get you through it. 

He smoothed your hair off your face and let your body gently sink back into the mattress, then got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He wiped your brow first, and you sighed in relief, eyes already closed in bone-tired weariness. Bucky gently wiped the sweat from your neck, continued moving down your body, and then with a second warm cloth he’d also brought, he gently wiped away the mess of slick that had seeped down your thighs. He carefully redressed your exhausted form, sliding you back into your discarded underwear and his t-shirt that was close enough to scoop up from the floor, and tucked you into the covers. You were asleep before he had finished taking care of you.

As you rested, he continued his vigilant watch from before. You stirred an hour or so later. It was still dark, but with almost a hint that sunrise would be creeping to the edges of the windows soon. He moved to your side again, this time with water, which he pressed to your lips, helping you to set up so you could drink. You began to gulp it down, but slowed when he tried to soothe you and urged you to slow your intake.

When you were nearly done downing the glass, your eyes opened briefly, but catching Bucky’s wary gaze on you, you shut them again. Not before Bucky saw the flash of anguish, however. You scooted away and turned your back, pulling your knees up and burying your head in your arms.

Bucky wanted to reach out and touch you, but settled for softly uttering your name, trying to coax you to look at him.

You refused, consumed with shame and horror.

Your throat was thick with a different kind of agony. 

That episode of pain and innate need had ended, but this? 

This was a new hell you would have to endure. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry, and I know I owe you my life and probably all of my sanity, but please, please go. Please leave me be and don’t put me through the humiliation right now of being here only because you were resigned to helping me despite hating me. I’ll have to bear that forever, but please, just… please at least leave me to myself until we get out of here.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Fuck, I don’t hate you – I never truly hated you,” he said. It was quiet, but perfectly audible in the silence of the pre-dawn.

You raised your head tentatively.

He took a deep breath and continued. “I only kept it up to save face since I drove you to despise me and was too proud to turn it around.”

You were truly overwhelmed. You wanted to say something but had no idea how to respond to that admission, especially when you were already wrung out to the very edges of your emotional state.

“I’ve respected you for a long time now.” Bucky broke the silence.

“You have?”

“Probably more than respected you, if I’m being honest.”

You were still exhausted despite having slept for the past few hours, but you pushed your mind to think… you started to reconsider the thaw from hostility to civility, that he argued with you in group settings less, how everything had become less grudging. But you knew you’d put up your own protective walls to shield you from his scrutiny because it had hurt too much to have been spurned by him when you’d reached out to try and forge that relationship with him after Steve left initially. 

And so much of tonight had been a feverish haze, but you had small pieces that were stained into your memory, some of which were him and things you couldn’t categorize as the actions of anything less than someone who cared. 

“How do you feel about me?” you ventured. 

The two of you looked into each other’s eyes for a few long moments.

“I don’t know that I can explain it all yet – I don’t think I know the words for it, but… let me show you? No chemicals, just us, see what’s really here?” He reached out a tentative hand to cover one of yours.

You nodded.

You let him move in.

You let him kiss you.

You let him lay you down beneath him again, and this time you sunk into each other. 

You cried again, but this time from the immense emotion. You could feel it rolling off of him and pouring into you, a balm starting to fill in the anguished pieces of your soul. Your spent bodies pushed through any tiredness and desperately moved together again, relentlessly motivated this time to slake the emotional hunger growing between you. Touches that explored, that carved into memory, that expressed. 

This time when you were both only finished by exhaustion, you curled into each other and slept, feeling the beginnings of solace and true peace, a turning of the tide, and maybe the acknowledgement that emotions that had run so deeply between you two were only felt so strongly because you truly valued the other even from the beginning.

READ THE FOLLOW UP DRABBLE: UNCERTAIN AND SURE

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[holylulusworld]

Triad (1) - Kinktober 20

Summary: You are everything to them.

Pairing: Omega!Stucky x Alpha!(fem)Reader

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo (Round 5): Square O5: AU: A/B/O

Square filled for stuckybingo (Round 4): I4: AU: A/B/O

Warnings: future mmf relationship, established mm relationship, meet cute, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, scenting, needy Bucky & Steve, dominant reader, dom/sub undertones

Kink: Dom / Sub

A/N: I decided to turn this request into a mini-series. It will consist of drabbles telling us more about their story.

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Triad masterlist

It was an ordinary autumn day when you met Steve and Bucky for the first time. They went for a stroll in the park, holding hands as you passed them by.

Until then, they were lost in their love and bond.

That was until a whiff of their mixed scents hit you out of nowhere. Your head snapped toward the pair, and your eyes began to glow.

The omegas immediately turned their attention toward you and your scent. It had been ages since they scented a female alpha. The last one was Peggy Carter; the one that got away.

Bucky and Steve tried to find their missing piece in male alphas too. But male alphas only tried to dominate them in the wrong way in the past.

While being super soldiers, your omegas were looking for a soft dominant helping them to give up control.

Bucky was a little bold in the beginning. He purred in your direction and flashed you a cocky grin. Steve was a little shyer but followed his mate when Bucky almost pounced on you.

The needy omega tried to scent you without your allowance, and you had to stop him. A confident “stop” left your lips and Bucky stopped in his tracks.

He whimpered and rubbed his hand over his growing erection. Steve only looked at you and whined as you turned to leave.

You didn’t want to get involved with two bonded omegas. Polyamory wasn’t in your plans.

“Wait,” Bucky pleaded. “Alph-“ He bit his tongue as he looked at you.

“I’m not your alpha,” you replied and gave him an apologetic look. “It’s only your instinct, sweetie.”

He dipped his head to glance at your untouched mating gland.

Bucky licked his lips, already forming a plan to get you to talk to them some more.

“Hi,” Steve tried to make you stay a little longer. “I’m Steve, and that’s my mate, Bucky.”

“Bucky. Hmm…that’s an odd name,” you teased, making Steve chuckle. “A nickname I assume.”

“His name is James.”

“He is here,” Bucky grumbled as you talked to his mate, not him. “Now, uh-alpha…”

“Buck—” Steve gasped audibly. Not once did his mate call someone alpha. “You can’t call her that. We don’t even know her.”

The blonde tried to stop his mate from pouncing at you, still, he took a step toward you and sniffed in your direction.

“Stevie, she’s our alpha,” the brunette insisted. He puckered his lips and batted his long lashes. Bucky had the power to make you weak from the beginning. And he still has this power over you. “You can feel it too, right?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Steve took another step toward you. He tried to sniff in your direction again, but you raised your hand and stopped him. “I did not allow you to scent me.”

“Uh-sorry. You just smell so good, alph-“ Steve cleared his throat and wrung his hands.

For an omega, he was a glorious sight. Tall, with broad shoulders, and a thick beard framing his face he was all you want in an omega. Still, he had to earn his place next to you.

This time, you took a step toward the blonde. You sized him up and huffed. “I see no alpha ever tamed you, and your mate. You need an alpha making sure you don’t lose control all the time.”

“I’m not some puppy you can train,” Bucky complained, but stepped closer to you again.

“Sweetness, I didn’t talk about training you to become my puppy. But you almost pounced on me. A stranger. What if I had ulterior motives and hurt you or your mate? You cannot get lost in your instinct.”

“We are sorry,” Steve said, gaze dropping to his shoes.

“Hmm…” you turned your head toward Bucky to get a better look at him. He was a tall and attractive omega too. His blue eyes searched your face as he struggled to hold your gaze. “You need an alpha taking care of you. A good alpha knows how to handle two bratty omegas…and I'm a good alpha...”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[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

[controlofwhatido]

fic: you crashed into my life (and here's some sugar)

Title: you crashed into my life (and here's some sugar) Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11k Tags: Captain America Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Bakery Shop Owner Steve Rogers, Top Bucky, Bottom Steve, Steve hates the Avengers

Summary: Slices of life when a bakery shop owner hates Captain America

Notes: Written for the Shrinkyclinks Double Bang 2023 at @buckybarnesevents! Huge thank you to @metalbvcky for all the adorable cupcake art and all the help getting this fic plotted out! Thank you to HR and Kam for running a fantastic event!

Also written for: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: My Best Suit. @stuckyversebingo B3: Strangers To Lovers, @stuckybingo B3: The Shield, N2: Scott Lang, G3: Touching Foreheads. @cabottombingo B2: Cradling someone in their arms. @steverogersbingo C2: Jarvis, E1: Competence

Read on AO3!

[starksvinyls]

Tony Stark has been a vampire for nearly 200 years. When he discovers a newly turned Bucky Barnes, he feels he has no choice but to help him. Even if his lifestyle is a little more lavish than Bucky is used to.

for @buckybarnesbingo square C3 'free space' and @tonystarkbingo square A4 'vampire/werewolf' (cards below the cut)

[rebelmeg]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alpine the Cat & James "Bucky" Barnes Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Alpine the Cat (Marvel) Additional Tags: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Good Cat Alpine (Marvel), Mission Related, Fluff Summary:

The Asset has been out of cryo for awhile, and his conditioning is starting to break down. So when a tiny, scrappy kitten tries to play with the laser sight on his rifle, he can't help but play along. Just a little bit.

Notes: For my @buckybarnesbingo​ square U5 – Surveillance!

[rufferto9]

Waiting For Something More

Title: Waiting for Something Creator: Rufferto

Card Number: 5002 Stucky Bingo Round 5 Square Filled: I4 Mutual Pining

Card Number: B050 BuckyBarnesBingo Round 5 Square Filled: C4 Steve Rogers Captain America

Card Number: CABB2019 - RUFFERTO Square Filled: I2 "Language"

Rating: Teen Warning: No archive warnings apply. Major Tags: Comics Cap and Bucky, See-through clothing, cap's serious face, Revolution arm, resolved pining Summary: Cap and Bucky meet and Bucky has taken drastic measures to finally get his attention.

Since this is very sketchy and bucky's legs just wouldn't behave. I decided to add a little story.

Steve couldn't figure out what was going on in Bucky's head when he put on that outfit. It was insanely distracting. Who was he trying to impress?

The more Steve thought about it, the more he frowned. He always longed for the day that he could finally reveal his feelings. It was always Bucky for him. .

Bucky no matter who he was with at the time, it came back to Bucky.

"Steve, you're staring, Pal." Bucky tried hard to keep a serious expression.

Steve put the Shield on his back. "Yeah, well, so were you."

"You gonna do something about it, tough guy?" Bucky smirked. "I'd rather not wait another century, if you don't mind."

"Well, if that's how you feel..." Steve slowly took Bucky's hand and tugged him into his arms for a kiss.

"Huh, Nat was right." Bucky chuckles, "This was the smart choice of outfit to wear. I've been wanting this for such a long time, Steve."

"She always is." Steve smiled fondly, "well, better late than never?"

"Come here, Jackass," Bucky demanded a deeper kiss. "Language..." Steve snickered as he let himself be manhandled back to the Tower.

--Rufferto. A little blurb to make up for the fact that it's just a messy sketch.

[scottxlogan]

This was written for the @buckybarnesbingo​ and @marvelrarepairbingo​

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Winter Soldier (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Threesome, Sexual Content, Apologies, Making Up, Cooking, Massage, Polyamory, Swearing

Summary: When Natasha leaves the tower after getting frustrated with Clint and Bucky's repeating fighting, the two are left wondering if this is the end of their relationship. Fearing the worst the two work together to try to get in good graces with Natasha all over again.

[abitnotgoodiebag]

for @buckybarnesbingo

[blackwood4stucky]

all the fire that ever burned you has turned you into gold | aspen blackwood

series: blade of nightshade, be my strength not my ruin

james “bucky” barnes x steve rogers | mcu

🅼 | word count: 3,560 | complete

tags: all souls x mcu fusion, pre-stucky, bucky-centric, omegaverse, paranormal creatures, body horror-adjacent, steve rogers-implied

A tale of transformation and acceptance, battle and frustration, fear and blood, devastation and reconciliation, rehabilitation and a hope for the future.

bingo fills

@anyfandomdarkbingo | crying themselves to sleep 

@afgomegaversebingo | free space

@badthingshappenbingo | cramping

@buckybarnesbingo round 5 | y5: brand new me [b098]

@fandom-free-bingo: frosty edition | ambushed, hallucination, shivering

@stuckybingo | b5: au - a/b/o [5080] + new job [january prompt]

snippet: “Being born with an abnormal amount of space between by balls and my asshole had never actually bothered me. What bothered me was what such a space implied… the possibility that I would present as an omega…”

read: ao3 | ffn | sqwa

mini playlist

steve's prequel

[buckets-and-trees]

"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[holylulusworld]

Falling leaves - Flufftober 6

Summary: He’s a grump, but for you, he’s willing to change.

Rating: Teen

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: Y4: Holding hands

Square filled for @allcapsbingo (expired): O1: Pining

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to more, general cuteness, Sunny vs grumpy trope

Trope: Sunny vs grumpy

Words: 824

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Please for me,” you look at Bucky, who sits on the least comfortable chair in your apartment. Legs spread, and a grumpy expression on his face he glares at the colorful scarf in your hands. “I’ll look good on you. We will match. I made the same for me.”

“I don’t do scarves, doll. I’m not cold. It’s still warm outside,” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. He loves that you like to make things for him, but you’ll not convince him to wear a colorful scarf.

“Fine,” puckering your lips you look at Bucky. “I’ll wear mine and you can go in your leather jacket. If you get cold, I won’t keep you warm.” You point your index finger at Bucky. “Now. Let’s head out.”

“Head out?” He furrows his brows. “I thought you wanted me to come over to help you repair your sink. “Where do you want to go?”

You put your hands on your hips and huff. “I told you it’s the perfect day for a walk in the park. I want to collect a few leaves too. You were the one bringing my leaking sink up. Please don’t leave me hanging. I don’t want to go alone.”

Bucky watches you wrap the scarf around your neck. He smiles as you glance at him now and then. He’s not immune to your charm and already gets up from his seat to go for a walk in the park with you.

“I won’t wear the scarf,” he grumbles as you look at him. You’ve got this look. The one making his heart melt whenever he’s around you. “I mean it.”

“I know,” you try not to sound too sad. “You can wear your neck naked, like a real man.” You grab your bag and the peacock green slouchy knit beanie matching your scarf. “I’ll be warm and cozy.”

“You’re freezing all the time,” Bucky points out as you try to ignore he’s so close that you can smell his cologne. He’s your friend and nothing else you tell yourself once again. “Maybe we can have a hot chocolate or tea after you collect your leaves.”

You grin. “It’s a date,” you exclaim, taking Bucky by surprise. “We can have a slice of pumpkin pie or apple pie if you like.”

“Sure,” he watches you grab your keys. “I prefer apple pie. My ma made the best, but there’s this little bakery I discovered when I first came back to Brooklyn.”

You’re suddenly reminded of Bucky’s past. This city was his home before it was yours. He’s, just like his best friend Captain America, a man out of time.

“Look at all the beautiful leaves,” you smile widely as your eyes land on the colorful trees and the leaves on the ground. “Let’s hurry before someone else grabs the best leaves. I need them for my next art project.”

“We will get them,” he assures you. “Which ones do you want?”

“Uh-the pretties ones,” you shrug. “I’ll know when I see them.” You crouch down to pick the first leaf up. “Bucky? Did you hear me?”

You dip your head only to watch Bucky glare at a guy who crouched down to pick a leaf up. “HEY! Hands off the leaves! These are for my doll!”

Your eyes widen when Bucky storms toward the man to snatch the leaf out of his hands.

“Bucky, it’s fine. There are more than enough leaves,” you place your hand on his back to stop him from killing the poor guy. “Let him go.”

“He tried to steal one of your leaves,” Bucky argues, but he hands the leaf back to the man. “Look for leaves somewhere else. This spot is ours.”

The man runs off, grumbling under his breath. “That was,” you grab Bucky’s hand and hold it, “very nice of you.”

“He tried to take the leaves away from you,” he dips his head to glance at you. “I can’t let him steal your leaves.”

You nod. “How about we collect a few leaves and have this walk we were talking about earlier?”

“Wait here. I’ll get the best leaves for you,” he runs off to look for the prettiest leaves. You watch Bucky for a while. He crouches down to pick up leaves, looking at peace. “Wait, I’ll help you.”

“That was nice,” on your way out of the park you are holding Bucky’s hand. You smile softly as he proudly carries the leaves you collected in a bag.

“Do you want to go home, or have some tea and a slice of pie,” he asks, hopefully looking at you.

“We can grab some pie and go to my place to have tea. Maybe you can stay for dinner,” you look up at Bucky. “Only if you don’t have plans for tonight.”

“It’s a date,” he says, squeezing your hand. “And tomorrow, we can go for another walk. I’ll wear the scarf too.”

Tags in reblog.

[late-to-the-party-81]

To wait for you is all I can do

AN: It’s another Tower fic, yay!!! 

Doesn’t have to be read as related to my other tower fic, but could be seen as a prequel if you wanted. And yes, the title is taken from Against All Odds.

Beta’d by the lovey @drabbles-mc

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me

Bingo fills: @buckybarnesbingo  U4 - Tower

@stuckybingo  I1 - Drinking Games

@steverogersbingo E5 - Suck and Blow Game

Join my tag list here

Master list | BBB Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list

Relationships: Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: Alcohol consumption, Asgardian Mead, Teasing, Flirting, Avengers as Family, Drinking games, Pining, Angst, Second First Kiss, Getting back together.

“Ho, my brothers…and sister… I am here and the festivities can begin!” 

Saturday night in the Avengers Tower, and Thor had just arrived for one of his sporadic visits. 

Tony met him, arms wide and a grin plastered to his face, and the Asgardian Prince caught him in a bear hug, lifting off the floor.

“You’re here, Point Break. I thought you were going to disappoint us.”

“Never, my friend. I was just delayed trying to find some of this.”

With a flourish he pulled a bottle from his shoulder bag, eliciting a cheer from everyone except Steve, who groaned, and Bucky who looked confused.

“What is that?” Bucky asked. Thor walked over and clapped him on the shoulder before passing him the bottle.

“This, James, is a bottle of the finest Asgardian Mead. It is stronger than your Midgardian drinks and with it, we’ve previously managed to get the good Captain to 'cut loose'.”

Bucky snorted. “Stevie, drunk? I haven’t seen that since 1943. You think it will work on me too?”

“Assuredly,” Thor confirmed. “I have no doubt that you will feel the effects as much as the good Captain.”

Steve walked over, a serious look to his face. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Buck. No-one has to drink.”

Bucky pulled the stopper from the top of the bottle with a pop and gave the amber liquid a sniff. “Woah! And I know that, Steve. But I do want to. It’ll be fun.” With that, Bucky took a swig, shuddering as the alcohol heated him from the inside. He turned to Thor. “That is good shit. Let’s round up the others. We should play some games.”

Steve watched him walk off across the room with Thor and couldn’t help the small twinge of jealousy at how close the two were standing together. Bucky’s recovery was going well. Excellent in fact. But he still had some gaps in his memory and they’d been told they could come back at any time or never. A brain injury such as what Bucky had sustained was unprecedented and the doctors and specialists were uncertain about what could happen. All they knew was that they couldn’t push it. All of which meant that Steve felt as though he was in purgatory.

Because it appeared that Bucky had no memories of them. Together. Of them curled up in bed during a Brooklyn winter finding ways to keep warm. Of the furtive moments together in the forests of Europe. Steve remembered every stolen moment, every quiet intimacy and held them protected in his heart, hoping every day that Bucky would remember them too. He was happy that Bucky was free. Happy that he was recovering and making friends and adapting to life in a new century - and, he thought, doing that much better than he had - but he was sad too. Sad that their relationship was more like that of brothers. Like the best friends the history books painted them as. But there was nothing he could do to change that. Either Bucky would remember and they’d have the chance to pick up where they left off, or he wouldn’t and Steve would just have to live with being the best friend he could be.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted across the room, pulling Steve out of his head. “Get your ass over here. Sam’s got a game for us to play.”

Steve squashed the urge to roll his eyes. This was no doubt going to descend into complete chaos, and he didn’t know if he was in quite the right mood for it. But he felt he owed it to Bucky to at least try. Joining the circle of his friends, some sitting on sofas and some on beanbags, Steve found himself a place next to Bucky. Bucky gave him a warm smile and Steve was struck with the bittersweet urge to kiss him knowing that he couldn’t.

“So, as our fossils and our out of towner here,” said Sam, gesticulating to Bucky, Steve and Thor, “never got to have the college experience, or play pretend at the college experience,” he nodded at Nat, “we’re gonna have some good old drinking games. First up is ‘Never have I ever. The rules are simple. We all take it in turns to say something that we’ve never done, but if someone else has done that thing, they have to take a drink. I’ll start. Never have I ever destroyed three city blocks.”

Tony and Bruce groaned and both took a swig of the beers they were holding. Nat was next. 

“Never have I ever purposefully trolled someone by shouting ‘On my left.’” She smiled slyly.

“Hey, that was one time,” grumbled Sam before taking a mouthful of his drink. “And someone pass Steve the mead.”

Thor obliged, passing the bottle and Steve took it warily, putting it to his lips and having the smallest sip he thought he could get away with. 

“Okay,” Tony announced. “My turn. Never have I ever stolen something.” He took a big drink of his beer and Bucky furrowed his brows. 

“I thought we were supposed to say something we hadn’t done.”

“Only if you don’t want to drink, Buckaroo,” Tony replied with a wink. “And now I think everyone here needs to drink, because not one of you, not even Cap, is as pure as the driven snow.”

“It’s called borrowing Tony,” Steve snarked back.

“Only if you actually return it. Drink. You too, Legolas. I don’t think there’s enough booze in this place to account for you and Romanoff.” Everyone took their drinks, Steve, Thor and Bucky passing the Asgardian liquor and Clint and Nat clinking their bottles together before they did so.

The game continued around the circle with some general statements - Never have I ever failed a maths test, Clint, Sam and Thor drinking - and some more pointed statements - Never have I ever almost ended the world by creating a robotic child, which Steve was very proud of - and the mood was mellow. Steve was even starting to relax and enjoy himself. And then Thor happened.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a comrade in arms.” Tony, Bruce and Sam knocked back their drinks straight away, and Steve… Well, Steve could have lied. He could have sat there innocently, except he faltered. He started to reach for the mead but then stopped, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Bucky looked at him, head cocked and Nat just raised one defined eyebrow. With nothing else for it, Steve resumed his move towards the only alcohol that could affect him and poured himself a healthy measure.

“Aaawww, Capsicle,” Tony drawled, “I didn’t know you cared.” Steve just glared at him and the billionaire just chuckled. “But really, who hasn’t had a little crush on Nat at some point or another. You’re only human.”

Steve could feel the blood rushing to his face, but there was also no way he was going to correct Tony’s assumption. Nat continued to observe him for a heartbeat more and he gave her a wan smile.

“Okay guys,” she said. “Time for a new game. I need a pack of cards, or rather just one from a pack. It’s time to Suck and Blow.”

Tony started to laugh raucously before standing up and going over to one of the many sideboards and rifling through the drawers. “This is going to be so good.”

Steve was confused, and a glance at Bucky showed he was the same, but luckily it was Thor or voiced the question. 

“Pray tell, Lady Widow. What is this game of sucking and blowing? I do not believe it can possibly be what it sounds like.”

At the moment, Tony returned to the group and passed a card - the Joker, or course - to Nat. 

“So,” she explained, “I will put the card to my lips and suck it to hold it in place. I then move towards the person next to me and when the card touches their lips they suck and I blow to transfer it. They then pass it along to the next person. If you let it drop you both drink. Easy. Like this…”

Nat put the Joker to her lips and held it there with suction, leaning towards Clint and passing it over as if it were nothing. Clint passed it to Sam, who giggled a bit before managing to take it and Clint high-fived Nat.

“Do I have to?” Bruce questioned and the card fell from Sam’s mouth as he ran out of breath.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “What the hell?” and he took a drink. Bruce followed, looking chagrined, and then Sam put the card to his lips again and passed it over. Bruce turned and that’s when he realised he was facing Tony, who had a mischievous glint in his eye. Bruce tried to pass him the card, but it was obvious that Tony ‘forgot’ to suck. The card fell down between them and Tony cupped Bruce’s face, planting an over the top kiss on the scientist’s lips. Clint spat out his drink, Thor laughed out loud and even Bucky’s lips twitched in amusement. 

Tony drew back, peering at Bruce as if he were an experiment gone awry. “Hhmm, no Hulk. I’d thought for sure he’d have wanted a piece of that action. Oh well.” He shrugged and took a drink. 

Bruce glared as he tipped back his bottle, but he then put the card to his lips and effortlessly passed it to Thor, who passed it onto Bucky with an amused glint in his eye. The Bucky turned towards Steve and Steve? Steve couldn’t breathe. All he could see was Bucky’s blue-grey eyes getting closer and closer. The card touched his lips, Bucky blew and Steve forgot to suck.

The card fell away and their lips brushed together.

Steve felt as though he was in one of those cheesy romance movies Tony had made him watch, where the main couple kiss and there’s fireworks and bird singing, because Bucky’s lips felt the same as they always had, and his heart was thudding in his chest, and - oh shit! - he should pull away, he’s not supposed to keep kissing Bucky who doesn’t remember them, and…

Suddenly Bucky was gone. He ripped his lips from Steve’s, stood and bolted from the communal room. Steve knew the others were staring, wondering what on earth had just happened, but he didn’t care about them, Bucky was his priority. 

He scrambled to his feet. “Buck! Wait!” he called and then followed Bucky out of the room.

“Well,” said Tony. “That was unexpected.”

Nat turned and cocked her head. “Was it?”

“Buck, please can I come in? I’m sorry.”

Steve rested his head against the door to Bucky’s room, feeling like the worst friend in the world. He’d violated Bucky’s trust at best, and disgusted and scared him at worst.

He hadn’t been surprised to find the door to Bucky’s room, inside their shared apartment, shut. Steve didn’t know if it was locked or not, but he wasn’t going to step in uninvited. However, he couldn’t walk away either, so with his heart beating harshly in his chest and his breath ragged in his lungs, Steve turned and slid down the closed door, head in his hands as he tried to work out what to do - how to make this right.

Steve had no idea how long he sat there, mumbling to himself as he tried to work through the answer in his head. But he was so caught up in his thoughts he was oblivious to movement from within Bucky’s room, until he was falling backwards, staring up at Bucky’s upside down face. He blushed.

“Umm, hey there, Buck.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, which Steve took as a good sign. “Get up, punk.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Steve pushed himself up, with far less elegance than he was capable of, and faced Bucky properly. Without a word Bucky walked back into his room, but he left the door open, so Steve followed him in. 

Bucky was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall and Steve stopped a few paces away, feeling awkward and full of anxiety. Bucky stared at him.

“Bucky, I…”

“Shh.”

Steve’s mouth snapped shut as Bucky’s command, and he began to twist his hands together. Bucky continued to observe him and when he pushed away from the wall and started to walk around him, Steve started to feel like a bug pinned to a board. He felt as though there was an electrical current running through him, making him vibrate with fear. Or was it need? Bucky was so close to him right now, his eyes hooded and dark as he just looked at Steve.

“We used to do that all the time, didn’t we?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s question caught him off-guard.

“Kiss. We used to kiss all the time. Back, before. When you were small. But also when you were big, like this.”  Bucky stopped in front of Steve, close, but still guarded.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve croaked. “We did.”

“And more than kissing too.” A statement, not a question.

Steve coughed, nervously. “Yeah, that too.”

“But we haven’t done since I came here. Since you found me. Why?”

Steve shuffled and shook his arms out, unsure what to do with his hands.

“Well, because you couldn’t remember it. It wouldn’t have been right. And I thought you might not want to, you know. You’re different now. I’m different now. We’ve both been through a lot and it would be understandable if feelings changed. And I didn’t want to put you under any pressure, because you mean a lot to me…”

“Steve…” Bucky interrupted his rambling. “Shut up.”

In the next second Bucky closed the distance between them, his mismatched hands coming up to cup Steve’s face, and then pressed their lips together. Instinctively, Steve’s hands came up to grip the front of Bucky’s shirt, leaning into a kiss that was altogether more purposeful than their accidental brushing of lips earlier. When Bucky ended it, all too soon for Steve’s liking, his smokey eyes were alight with amusement.

“I don’t remember it all, but I do remember the face you’re making now. It’s like you’re drunk, and I have to say, it’s still pretty cute.”

Heat flooded Steve’s face once more. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

“I still wanna take things slow,” Bucky added, “but I think I might still like kissing you, Stevie.”

Steve nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, Buck. Happy to be led by you. And it’s okay if you wanna change your mind…”

Bucky interrupted him once again. “Shut up and kiss me again, punk.”

With a request like that, how could Steve refuse?

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky

[controlofwhatido]

fic: what a naughty kitten deserves

Title: what a naughty kitten deserves Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3086 Tags: Shrinkyclinks, Daddy Kink, Mean Daddy Bucky Barnes, Spanking, Lingerie, NSFW Art Summary: Bucky pulls out his hair tie and runs his fingers through his hair with a deep sigh. “Are you trying to be punished, sweet boy? Because you’re really testing my patience tonight.”

Notes: Written for the Shrinkyclinks Double Bang 2023 at @buckybarnesevents with amazing art by @mxaether! Thank you to Kam and @buckyismybicycle for running the event and to HR for helping me make Bucky just a little bit meaner. Also thanks to @bittersweet-in-boston for the beta! Also written for @buckybarnesbingo "Begging", @cabottombingo "Just let me take care of you", @stuckybingo "Riding", @mcukinkbingo "Character has shaved genitalia", @steverogersbingo "held/holding down", @stuckyversebingo "Free space"

READ ON AO3

[starksvinyls]

Title: Family Ties Rating: Gen Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark Tags/Warnings: Post Avengers IW, Tony is Peter's Bio Dad, Toddler Peter Parker, Family Fluff, Introspection Summary: Bucky gets lost in his thoughts about how he got here - with a loving partner and his adorable son. Notes: for @buckybarnesbingo square U2 'family' маленький мальчик means "little boy"

AO3 Link

Little feet slapped against the floor, getting louder as they traveled down the hall. Bucky grinned as a naked Peter came running around the corner, giggling. He hurried over from the kitchen and stepped in front of the boy, scooping him up. 

“And where do ya think you’re goin’?” 

Peter just giggled and tried to squirm out of Bucky’s hold. He gripped the boy a little tighter, so he wouldn’t get away, not caring that the front of his shirt was getting damp. He laughed when Tony came around the corner, holding a towel. He looked a little harried, and the front of his shirt was soaked - ah, bath time. Tony stepped over, towel out and ready, and snatched his son from Bucky’s arms, capturing him in the towel like an unruly puppy. Peter giggled the whole time. 

“Daddy! No clothes!” The little boy squealed, still trying to squirm away.

“Petey,” Tony huffed, readjusting his hold on the wriggly boy. “You have to put on pjs for bed time, that’s the rule.” 

Peter finally got one hand free from the towel and pointed a mock-scolding finger towards his father’s face. “No clothes.” 

Bucky held back a snort, it was such a Tony mannerism. Peter had been doing more and more of them lately, much to Tony’s chagrin. It was only a matter of time before they had a little echo cursing around the penthouse. 

“Say good night to Buck,” Tony took a step closer, bouncing Peter up and down a couple times to indicate he was talking to the boy. 

“Night Bucky!” Peter chirped, a wide smile on his face. 

‎Bucky leaned in and pecked the boy’s pudgy little cheek. “G’night, маленький мальчик.” 

Once the duo had disappeared back down the hall, Bucky wandered over to the living room and plopped down on the overstuffed couch, sprawling his legs out. It had been nearly a year since he was pardoned and allowed back into the States, and nearly as long since he’s lived in the tower, and there were still moments that had Bucky pausing because how was this his life now? How was he lucky enough to have a partner and an almost-step-son, who he loved so dearly, and who he knew loved him? People didn’t just stumble upon a perfect ready made family.    

Back before the war, Bucky had dreamed about finding a nice gal and settling down. They’d have some kids, who would call Steve ‘Uncle’, and Bucky would grow old with her after all their kids were gone, in the same little brownstone in Brooklyn that they bought together shortly after getting married. 

During the war, that dream kept him going; got him through the long cold nights of a European winter; got him through being captured and experimented on; got him through following Steve into the most terrifying situations. That dream wasn’t enough to get him through 70 years of Hydra, though. 

In Wakanda, Bucky spent a lot of time trying to figure out what it was he wanted now from life. He spent time tending to the goats and playing with the children of the village he was staying in, watching and learning to cook; spent time learning how to operate with just one arm. Through all of that, Bucky came to realize he just wanted some peace and quite now. He wanted a simple life, maybe some land somewhere in the Midwest, some goats and chickens. No one around to bother him, and no one around for him to bother. 

Once Thanos had been defeated, clean up underway, and major housecleaning throughout the US government and the UN, Bucky was given a pardon to return to the US. He was given a medal for his service, another one for being the longest POW in history, and several other letters and certificates of commendation. Apparently, the military was also giving him back pay. The money didn’t much matter to Bucky, he had always been resourceful and able to survive on his own, but that would make buying his farm much easier. So, he smiled and said “thank you” and shook the right hands before slumping off to his government issued studio apartment in the Bronx. 

It had been plain, sparsely furnished, and no decor. It was depressing, Bucky would admit. He went to his job at a mechanic shop - something he had just to keep busy - during the day, and in the evenings, he would heat up a couple of TV dinners and scour the listings for small farms in the Midwest. Rinse and repeat. 

It was a couple months of that before Shuri contacted him to let him know she wouldn’t be able to come out to do the scheduled maintenance on his arm, but she arranged for Stark to do it. Bucky didn’t have anything against Stark, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve to have his arm blown off, but he thought for sure that the man would never want anything to do with Bucky again. So, he was a little shocked when Shuri told him that the meeting was scheduled to take place at Stark Tower, in Tony Stark’s lab. 

If Shuri had been able to make it that week…

“Watcha thinking about?” Tony flopped down next to the super soldier, pulling Bucky from his thoughts, as he curled into his side. He was wearing a new, dry t-shirt. 

“My life before you,” He answered honestly. “And what my plans had been.” 

“That farm still calling your name?” Tony teased. 

Bucky shook his head. “No,” He looked down at his partner, who was smiling wide back up at him. He smiled, too. “I like the life I have right here, with my family.” 

[42donotpanic]

Bucky Barnes The Winter Soldier

Drawn for the image prompt K5 of my Bucky Barnes Bingo:

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