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lunarbuck · 11 months

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Dumb Bunny (dark!winter soldier xf!reader)

a dark little red riding hood retelling

pairing: dark!winter soldier x f! reader (any race)

wc: 3.3k

summary: The Wolf sees you walking through the forest on your way to your grandmother's house, and he just can't help himself.

warnings: dark fic, knives, oral (f receiving), smut (p in v), pet names [bunny], degradation, primal play, predator/prey, fear, crying

a/n: this is my entry for @boxofbonesfic's fairytale writing challenge :) I hope you guys enjoy!

beta'd by the amazing @sgt-seabass <3

my masterlist

The sight of your home village warms your heart. You’ve been away for so long and missed so much. It’s good to be back. You pull the hood of your cape up to keep the sun off your face and venture into the heart of the village.

After gathering some sweets and a few loaves of bread, you bid farewell to the friendly faces you pass. As lovely as the village is, you can’t shake the feeling that something is just slightly… wrong.

The edge of the forest calls to you, the familiar sound of songbirds lulling you in. You’ve traveled this path hundreds of times; you know it with your eyes closed, even after all this time. Beautifully bright flowers bloom just off the beaten path. You gaze at them but don’t stop to pick any. Grandmother is expecting you. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her, you feel guilty you haven’t visited sooner.

As you walk, you hear footsteps crunch through the fallen leaves. You turn around, the hem of your cape fluttering with the movement. Behind you, you see a tall mountain of a man. Cloaked in black, the man stalks toward you. You’ve heard whisperings of him in town, the Wolf, they call him.

“Excuse me, miss,” he coos, voice deep and gravelly. “Where are you headed? A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone in these woods,” he whispers. “There is danger around every corner.”

You know what people say about the Wolf, the things he’s rumored to have done. That he’s a killer, that he roams the woods hunting unsuspecting victims. He’s ruthless, coldblooded and animal-like in his violence. You’re sure the rumors are true as you gaze up at his bright eyes. Fear flashes through your mind as you stare at him. His eyes are a stark, beautiful blue. His hair, dark and inky, frames his face, though most of it is covered by a black mask.

“I’m visiting my grandmother’s house,” you tell him, smiling politely. You’ve always been taught to be kind to strangers, and this stranger, in particular, the way he’s looking at you, seems to scream danger. You don’t want to risk slighting him.

“Ah,” the Wolf replies, raising his eyebrows. “And what might you have there in your basket?” You move the cloth, showing the Wolf your various sweets and loaves of bread. You imagine he is licking his lips behind his mask. Images of his lips on you, of him kissing you deeply, of him tasting you, flash through your mind, and you quickly shut your eyes. You try to shake off the heat that’s settled in your belly. You shouldn’t think that way about a stranger.

“Well, I must be going. Grandmother is expecting me.” You nod to the Wolf and cover your basket, returning to the path you’d been following. Each breath feels tight in your chest.

“What a shame,” he calls. “The birds are singing so sweetly.” Your steps slow as you allow yourself to listen to the songs that float through the air, but you continue on. You can always listen to the birds as you walk.

“Ah, but the flowers are so beautiful this time of year. Wouldn’t your grandmother enjoy a bouquet?” The Wolf asks, again halting your walking. You glance at the flowers off the path, practically preening for you in the sunlight. Grandmother has always loved the wildflowers; maybe you could spare a few moments to gather a small bouquet.

“I suppose…” You glance back at the Wolf, finding that he has continued to follow you down the path. He’s so close now that if you breathed deeply, your back would touch his chest. Your heart stutters with fear. How did he move so quickly without you hearing? How did you not feel him approach?

“You don’t want to miss out on all the beauty,” he whispers, leaning down beside your ear. With two long fingers, the Wolf tugs your hood off your head, letting the breeze flutter against your neck. He breathes deeply, and your knees wobble as you feel the heat the Wolf emanates. Something sharp trails down your neck, a stinging pain following close behind, and your eyes widen.

Not even a breath later, he’s gone. You shudder at his sudden absence and quickly dart your eyes around, looking for the Wolf, but he’s disappeared into the shadows.

You try to calm your nerves, focusing instead on the flowers glittering just a few paces away. You kneel down, gathering your skirts to prevent them from getting dirty. The flowers are soft against your fingertips as you pick the perfect ones. All the while, the Wolf’s beautiful blue eyes burn in your mind.

The Wolf

Poor, poor grandmother, I think to myself as I drag the woman out of her woodland home and into the glade. She’ll wake up eventually, but not before I do what I want. Not before I take care of her sweet, beautiful little granddaughter.

I go back into the house and take in the empty space. Photos of my little bunny are everywhere, school photos and memories of vacations. She looks so delectable in her too-small bikini, her bright smile practically blinding me.

Next, I climb the stairs, finding myself in the room I had just dragged her grandmother from. The four-poster bed takes up most of the room, fabric hanging from the top of the frame like a canopy. I grin at the thought of taking my bunny here, her tears staining the blanket. Her screams filling the air. I feel myself hardening in my pants, and I adjust my cock.

When I saw her walking through town, my mouth watered. She looked so beautiful in her red cloak, the sun warming her skin. She looked good enough to fucking eat. I followed her from a distance, but once she entered the forest, I couldn’t hold back any longer. The smell of her when I got close… I could barely hold myself back. I wanted to grab her right then and there. I wanted to fuck her into the dirt. But good things come to those who wait.

I am not a patient man, and I always get what I want. Always.

So, I lay down on the bed, the canopy concealing me well enough, and wait.

And wait, and wait.

Until I hear the door creak open.

“Grandmother?” My bunny calls. I can practically hear the smile on her lips. I grin beneath my mask, fingers itching to touch her. To mark her. I hear her footsteps as she wanders into the house. My heartbeat speeds up, ready for the hunt.

“Grandmother?” She calls again, this time even closer. I see her shadow as she comes up the stairs, and a moment later, she pushes open the bedroom door. “Oh, Grandmother, are you ill?” Through the canopy, I see her set down a vase of flowers, the ones she picked in the woods, and her basket, full of sweets.

Her fingers gently curl around the canopy’s fabric and tug it aside. Her eyes widen, and her lips part on a scream, but I’m already moving. I lunge, grab her, and push her down onto the mattress. My hand presses over her mouth, absorbing her scream.

“So fucking beautiful when you scream, bunny,” I growl, dipping my head into the crook of her neck. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of fear mixing with the floral scent of her perfume.

My bunny writhes and struggles against me, but it’s no use. I’m bigger than her, stronger than her. She’ll never escape me. She heaves her breath behind my hand, so I take it off of her, not minding if she screams. No one will hear her anyways.

“What– what are you doing?” She whimpers, tears streaking down her face.

I don’t answer. Instead, I straddle her hips, pinning her to the bed. I run my hands along her torso and up to her breasts. She fits perfectly in my hands, and I flick my eyes to hers, watching her reaction. I can see the way she struggles with herself. The way she wants to give in to me, but something holds her back.

“Oh, bunny,” I whisper, my hands coming up to curl around her neck. “What a beautiful neck you have.” I squeeze her neck lightly, giving her just a taste of what I want, and I see the way her pupils dilate. Her hips jolt up into mine, and I grin beneath my mask.

She breathes heavily, lips parting into a perfect, soft ‘o’. “And what perfect lips you have.” I move one hand up, running my thumb across her beautiful mouth. I lean down close, cupping her jaw.

I want to taste her, I want to rip this fucking mask off my face and taste my little bunny, but I can’t. Not yet. I need to be patient. I sit up, slipping a knife out of my belt and flicking it open. Her eyes widen at the glinting blade.

“Please,” she whispers, tears brimming in her eyes again. “Please don’t hurt me.” I grin.

“My poor, stupid, little bunny. The more you beg me not to, the more I want to hurt you.” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and I stifle a moan. I don’t know how I’ve lived so long without her, how I’m going to go on living if I don’t have her by my side.

“What did you do to my grandmother?” She asks, voice wavering.

“You don’t want to know, bunny.” Her tears stream down her cheeks, and she hiccups as she sobs. She’s fucking perfect. I take in the sight of her blood-red cloak stark against the white sheets. I run the knife along the side of her face, not cutting or scratching her but letting her feel the sharp edge.

I slide off the bed, dragging the knife down the center of her sternum between her breasts and down her torso. I see the thoughts running through her pretty little head. I know she wants to run. I hope she does. I step back and watch her fingers twitch before she darts off the bed. Her red cape flutters behind her as she saints down the stairs. I give her a head start before giving chase. My little bunny is more perfect than she could ever know.

After taking a steadying breath, I take off after my bunny. She left the front door open, and I catch sight of the hem of her cape as she dives behind a tree. She ran pretty far, I’ll give her that, but she won’t escape me. Never.

My feet pound on the ground as I chase her, adrenaline coursing through my veins. She keeps running, doing her best to hide as she goes deeper into the forest, but she’s not fast enough. I catch up quickly, making sure she knows just how close I am. Whenever she hears my boots snap a twig, she yelps, tripping over her feet. As we get further away from the house, she loses steam. I grin as she stumbles, constantly looking back to see me hunting her.

Bunny’s cape gets caught on a branch, and she falls, landing hard in the dirt. She tries to crawl away, but she knows it’s no use. I stalk toward her, loving the way she shakes with each breath, and sink to the ground by her head.

I grip her by her hair, lifting her face out of the dirt, and lean down. “You lose, bunny.” She gasps as I bring out my knife, holding it near her cheek as I turn her. Even though she ran and wants to think she’s afraid of me, I know what she wants. I can fucking smell it on her. Can taste it in the air.

“Please,” she whispers, fingers digging into the leaves on the ground. Her thighs rub together beneath her skirts, and my mouth waters. I know she won’t run this time, not when she’s so close to getting what she wants.

I remove my mask, tugging it from my face with my other hand. Her lips part as her eyes search my features. I move between her legs, running a hand along one of her legs. I push up her skirt, exposing her soft skin. With my knife, I run the tip along her leg, up and up, until I reach her panties. She can’t hide how needy she is. My bunny writhes in the dirt, begging me to touch her with her big beautiful eyes. I slide my knife beneath the waistband of her panties, slicing the fabric. I cut a matching slit near her other leg, tugging the material away. She shivers as the cool air hits her cunt.

“What a pretty pussy you have, bunny,” I growl, lowering my face to the crux of her thighs. She watches me with lust-filled eyes, nodding like the dumb little bunny she is. I bite her inner thigh, leaving an imprint of my teeth on her skin.

“What beautiful eyes you have,” she tells me, a small smile on her lips.

“The better to see you with, bunny.” I run my nose along her pussy, and she bites back a moan. My tongue laves along her clit, and I hear her breath hitch.

“What–” she gasps when I press a finger inside her tight cunt. “What a perfect mouth you have.” I groan against her pussy, devouring her like my last meal.

“The better to eat you with,” I mutter into her pussy. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She tastes so fucking sweet, practically dripping against my lips. I knew my bunny would be perfect, but she’s better than I ever could have dreamed.

“Please, please,” she whimpers, begging for her release. I curl my finger inside of her, looking for the spot that makes her squirm, and brush my teeth over her sensitive clit. My little bunny is so responsive for me, writhing around in the dirt.

“So fucking sweet, bunny, my own little treat.” Her whimpers get higher pitched, and I know she’s close. I’m practically humping the dirt, I’m so hard, but all I can think about is how good my bunny is being and how fucking perfect she’s going to feel wrapped around my cock.

I work her right up to the edge, and when she’s gripping my hair so hard she’s about to pull it out, she breaks. She comes all over my tongue and finger, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I crawl up over her, my tongue running over my lips, gathering her taste. “What a good bunny,” I whisper, taking in the sight of her blissed-out expression. She wants more, though, I can tell.

Her eyes roam over my face, her hands tracing over my features. Her lips part, but she can’t seem to find the words. “Tell me what you want, bunny.” My finger circles her sensitive clit; she jolts.

She shudders but doesn’t speak. “Come on, bunny. I know you’re afraid. I know that you don’t want to admit it. You want my cock? Is that it, bunny? You want me to fuck you here in the dirt?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and fear flashes in her eyes. She knows I’m dangerous; she knows I am unpredictable.

“You wanna be my dirty bunny?” I ask her, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. “You’re my dumb fucking bunny, you know that? You’re gonna let me fuck you into the dirt, and you’re gonna love every second of it, isn’t that right?”

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips bucking against my fingers. “Please.”

“I need to hear you say it, bunny.” I bite her shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and she gasps. “Tell me that you’re my dumb little bunny. Tell me what you want me to do.”

I see the way she hesitates, the way her mind runs through all the reasons she should fight me, but then I see the shift. I see the moment lust takes over, and she succumbs to her primal desires.

“I’m your dumb little bunny,” she whispers. I slide two fingers into her pussy, scissoring my fingers to stretch her. “And–” she sucks in a breath. “And I want– need you to fuck me.”

“Such a good bunny.” I settle back between her legs and pump my fingers, working her up again. I use my other hand to take off my belt. When my pants are down far enough, I palm my cock, moaning. She watches me with hooded, lust-drunk eyes, and I smirk. My dumb little bunny looks so pretty taking my fingers, but she’ll look even better taking my cock.

I take a long look at her pretty face before I grip her hips and turn her over. Hooking my hands underneath her, I position her with her ass high and her head in the dirt. This is how she was meant to be; she was fucking born for this.

I line my cock up with her perfect pussy and tease her clit, loving how she jolts each time. My little bunny has never looked better with her skirt shoved up on her waist and her face pressed against the earth.

“What a perfect bunny for me,” I tell her, spanking her ass. I press my cock into her, groaning as she squeezes me. She’s so fucking tight, so perfect, like she was made for me. Made for this. I slide in, loving how she stretches around my dick. Her face screws up the deeper I get, but I don’t give her time to adjust.

I set a brutal, deep pace, and electricity shoots up my spine. The sounds she’s making, the way her fingers dig into the dirt, are nearly too much for me to handle. The smell of sex and earth floods my nose, and I feel it flood my bloodstream.

She moans and whimpers with each thrust, pressing back with each thrust, egging me on. My little bunny wants me just as much as I want her. I lean down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and haul her torso up so she’s kneeling, arching against me. I run my tongue along the spot I’d cut earlier when I’d first spoken to her, tasting the sweet tang of her blood.

My little bunny has tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face. Her eyes are screwed shut as she takes my dick.

“Such a good little bunny,” I groan into her ear. “You were fucking made for this. You were fucking born to be my dumb bunny, to take my cock.” Her cunt flutters around my dick, and my hips stutter.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants like a prayer. I drop a hand to her clit and circle it in a way that makes her throw her head back, and bite the cut on her neck. The combination of sensations throws her over the edge, and she convulses on my cock.

I press her back into the dirt and pound into her, slamming into her over and over again. I come on a moan, both of us collapsing. “Good bunny,” I whisper. “Such a good little bunny.”

She falls asleep, drained from the way I used her body, and I grin at the sight. She should know better than to fall asleep next to a predator like me. I brush the dirt from my pants, tucking my cock away, and pick her up. I carry her back to her grandmother’s house and lay her on the four-poster bed.

Next, I retrieve poor old grandmother. She’s still asleep. The drug I gave her will wear off soon. I place her on the couch in the front room. I’ll let my bunny find her when she comes to. I return to the bedroom and stare at my beautiful little bunny.

I don’t clean her up; I don’t even put her dress back. She looks perfect, dirty, and used against the bone-white sheets.

Just the way I like her.

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months

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Your Mark On Me, Part 3

Summary: you keep pushing his buttons...

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, degradation, dirty talk, non con/dub con, spanking, inspecting, spitting, fingering, squirting, oral sex (F receiving), skinny dipping, pussy job, just the tip, a bit of cream pie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.1K

Series Masterlist

*Tattooed Steve edit by @randomagnes0210

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You take a long look out the window, your eyes casting around in every direction until you see him. Bucky gives you a cheeky grin, holding up his hand, and you back away from the window, hiding yourself. Annoyed at not even being able to walk around in your panties in your apartment if you wanted to. He was always going to tell Steve. You couldn’t escape him. And staying cooped up in your apartment was thoroughly starting to piss you off.

It was supposed to be your break in between semesters, and you should be having fun. But no. Instead your every move is followed. You have a feeling Bucky even writes down what you do with time stamps just to let Steve know. He was there when you wake up, there when you leave your apartment, and even there when you go to sleep.

Did he sleep? Was he going to go crazy with a lack of sleep? You pace around the apartment, tempted to open your curtain, and put on a show for Bucky, just to piss Steve off. It’s what he deserved after he did what he did.

When he did what he did…

You hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. The moment when you had forgotten about everything around you, and just let him take you to a different world. A world of blinding pleasure. You had forgotten your name. There has been a numbness in you since that night. And you wanted him to help you live again, and also feared the things he was making you feel.

You ignored the frequent text messages from Steve. At night the messages got filthier, and you wanted to scream in your pillow. While his face was buried between your thighs, and he was doing whatever he did with his tongue, and even his teeth.

“No!” You scream out loud as your hands start to shake. What was wrong with you? Why was you letting this man lead you to temptation and right to a shortcut to hell?

You wanted him. You feared him. You hated him. You need him to…to do something. You didn’t want to say it, and couldn’t say it. This was new. All of it was new, and you didn’t understand Steve’s strong obsession with you. You! You? What was so special about you? Why did he want you? What was his end goal? Was it only to fuck you and then leave?

Taking another look out the window just to find Bucky in the same spot, sucking on a cigarette. He would know, Bucky knew everything. Putting on some coffee you leave your apartment, and walk out to Bucky, who stands up straight immediately. Hand at the phone in his pocket while he looks at you questioningly.

“Don’t call him,” Bucky struggles with your request. You were not where you were supposed to be. You hadn’t even left this town, and ventured back home. “Have some coffee with me. I feel bad that you’re out here all alone, all day and all night. It isn’t fair.”

“I have my orders,” his hand still taps along his pocket, and the last thing you want is for him to call Steve. You couldn’t handle Steve being in your home, and your place of peace.

“Some coffee would be good for you, come on,” you go to reach for his hand, but he stands up completely straight, and his eyes fix behind you. “I’m sorry.”

“Dove, you should know by now not to touch me; ever. Especially without him present. I’m running out of lives, and I don’t want to die today,” you give a little bite to your lip, your feet shuffling around nervously, wondering if you had pushed too far. You weren’t an idiot, even if you wanted to play as such.

Bucky wants to roll his eyes at just how perfect you are for Steve. How you had enough fight in you to keep things interesting, but also his undying love for innocence. For the chase, and you were running; sprinting away from him even if your body was yelling for him to come back. You just weren't so fast enough that Steve couldn’t catch you. “Fine. Coffee, but you deal with the consequences.”

“Consequences? For having coffee?” Oh you did love to play this silly little girl game. Judging by the swishing around of your thighs, you knew exactly what the consequences would be.

He leans close enough into you, whispering just slightly off from your ear, “Don’t play dumb, little bird,” before heading straight towards your building. “So?” He pauses, turning to look at you when you don’t move. “Are we having coffee?”

“Yes,” you answer with such certainty that it scares you.

“I see why he likes her,” Bucky mumbles, waiting for you to take the lead. He didn’t have to contact Steve. Steve would look down at his phone, and see that Bucky was in your apartment. Would see Bucky in your space, but with you. Alone. He could already feel Steve’s anger prickling on his skin once he realized where he was, and just who he was with. You were just dangerous enough to yourself, but also for Steve.

“So…what’s yours and Steve’s story?” You pour him his coffee, sitting at the bar, and push out a chair for him. He doesn’t take the chair, but instead lifts himself up on the counter. “You and him seem to go back further than him and Sam.”

“Steve trusts very few people. Sam and I are two of them. But you are correct in thinking that Steve and I have known each other longer. Sam has been more than loyal to the both of us,” your head tilts to the side, listening to Bucky. It was almost normal. Steve was anything but safe though. However, he had people that believed in something. Believed in him and whatever empire he was building.

“Why drugs?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he gives you a wink. Lifting his arm up to look at his watch with a smirk. “Why were you buying?”

“You know why. I needed to stay up to cram for finals. Math isn’t exactly my strong suit,” he cocks a brow up, while he drinks his coffee, and you almost feel guilty for staring at him. It was silly because you weren’t with Steve. You could look at whoever you pleased.

“Have you ever tried any other drugs?” Shaking your head rapidly, you cast your eyes to anything in the kitchen. Making silly notes about what you needed to do to keep it clean. Wondering where the cameras were in here. “Was that your first time?”

“Yes. I’ve always just taken my medication as it’s prescribed.”

“Ever been drunk?” You had piqued his interest. Bucky was just wasting time because Steve was already enroute, and he was about to be yelled at, but you were getting far more than screams. “Hmm?”

“No,” your voice whispers, and you dare to look back up at him. “I just recently became of age.”

“Wait…you’ve never had anything to drink?” You shake your head no. There couldn't’ be that much that you had missed from getting drunk. Alcohol stunk, and it was illegal for you to have consumed before now. “Wow, you really are…”

You jump off the stool, your mug shattering on the tile as Steve bursts through the door. His nostrils flaring, and his skin looked like it was on fire with the way his muscles are tensing up. Backing up from him with every step he takes closer to you.

Taking his eyes off you only to glare at Bucky, “I’ll deal with you later. Dovey,” he tsks, turning to look at you. He is too calm with his words, but the way he slung that door open, he was anything but calm. He was pissed off at you.

“You’ve been a bad bad girl,” you can only squeak, as you look around the apartment. “We both know there's no hiding places in here. I’ve looked at the blueprints, little bird. Where are you gonna run to?”

“Steve, don’t,” you gulp, flinching away as he tries to grab you.

“Do you remember what I told you about your tears?” You shake your head no. You couldn’t think. There is a searing light in your eyes and loud ringing in your ears that was keeping you from thinking straight. He had mentioned something about tears, but exactly what you can’t recall.

“When you cry all I can think about is splitting you open for the first time. It will hurt, Dovey. You will cry, and I will lick the tears off your cheeks, as I wait for that tight little cunt to stop screaming from the stretch.’

“Steve, please,” you tremble, but he moans in return. He mistook your pleads as begging. “I’m not begging!”

“And I’m not asking,” you scream as you dart past him, but his inky hand grabs onto your wrist, pulling you into his hard chest, and nearly knocking the breath out of you. Covering your wails with his hand as he hauls you over to the couch.

Letting himself sit down before he lays your belly over his lap. “I am thankful that you wear skirts,” hearing the malice in his voice only makes your entire body shiver with anticipation of what is coming next. “Bucky, close the door, while I have a chat with my little bird.”

“Steve, I’m sorry,” you hiccup. Wiggling around, you try to get off his lap, but it wasn’t helping. “I don’t know what I did…Bucky?”

“Don’t call for him. He protects you when I’m not around, he doesn’t protect you from me. Did he or did he not say you would have consequences for being alone with him?” You whimper as you nod your head, and you get a swift smack on your ass. “Words, Dove.”

“Yes, sir,” tears start flowing down your face, and it just angers you. This stupid man that rushed into your life has you draped over his lap like a toddler, and was intent in spanking you.

“And not only did you bring him in here with you alone, you then had the audacity to talk about me, hmm?” You don’t answer fast enough, and he smacks you again, but this time on the other cheek. Flattening his hand out, he rubs over the stinging skin.

“I didn’t…I-I-I didn’t know.”

“If you want to know anything about me, then you better fucking ask me. That sneaky bullshit will not fly with me. Do you understand?” Another smack on your ass with an even more soothing rub this time. “Can you fucking hear?” One more slap.

“Yes, sir. I under…understand. No!” He places his elbow on your back as he lifts up your skirt. Chuckling when each hand pulls apart your cheeks. “Steve, stop! Don’t look! Don’t!”

“Why not, Dovey?” He moans, leaning down closer he inhales deeply. What you assume was a pinky finger flicks up and down your cotton covered slit. “Your cunt is crying for me. Just as hard as those pathetic tears rolling down your cheeks. You know why we work, Dovey? I enjoy this just as much as you do.”

“I don’t,” he has your panties pulled down in one second. Each hand stretching your cheeks wide as he gazes at your virgin hole. Everything is too quiet as he stares at you in the most vulnerable state you have ever been in. Sure that Bucky was watching your core as hard as Steve.

Seconds go by that feels like hours. And then a drip of Steve’s saliva flows through your lips. “You’re a fucking liar,” his voice cutting deep inside of you. “Why are you lying? That tight light hole is clenching, Dove. She wants a big cock to fuck her so hard and deep, huh? Hehe,” he looks up at Bucky, pulling you even further apart.

“See, Buck. She’s throbbing just thinking about me fucking her. Look,” Bucky has been a target of Steve’s anger many times. And there was no right answer here. Steve would be offended if he didn’t look. “Dove, I’m going to fuck you so deep you feel me in your belly.”

“Oh,” Bucky tries to sound interested as your walls flutter around nothing. Searching for something to squeeze tightly. Pulsing in vain. But something more catches his eyes, “How are you going to fit in there?”

“Oh, I’ll make it fit,” he spits down to your center again as two fingers roam through your slick. Coating themselves in your juices, and you clench your eyes close. Biting on your lip as he plunges two thick fingers into your warmth, and you lift your head up sobbing his name.

“That’s just two fingers, pretty girl,” pumping his fingers in and out of you he moans at the sound of your wetness. Lewd squelching sounds scream into the quiet apartment. “See how easy I fit in there when you have a sloppy cunt like this? It’s because I am made for you, and this is my pussy. I wish you could see your pussy cling onto my fingers. She doesn't’ want to let me go. She is weeping out onto your legs just thinking about me, Dovey.”

He speeds up his motions, curling his fingers and he hits a spot inside of you that makes orbs of fuzzy light pop up in your vision. Sounds you have never heard before leak out of your mouth, and your body chases his fingers. Reacting and needing him to stay deep inside of you. And you seek out him to constantly fill you whole.

Hugging his digits so tightly that you can’t help but to pant out his name, “I know, baby. It’s what you’ve needed. You needed to be punished for acting like a sneaky bitch. But it gets you so worked up. Your body craves this attention. Has been begging for this, huh? You like this, Dovey?”

My god, you loved it. Thoughts just didn’t even register because of the paralyzing pleasure. You just take it. Take every bit of his fingers. Eyes rolling in the back of your head as he scissors himself deep inside of you. Pressing a thumb on your clit, and you speak in tongue.

Euphoria you have never felt. Your cum coats his fingers, but it only eggs him on. Going harder into you. The only thing for you to hold is his leg, and you dig your fingers into him. He hisses as he pounds into you. Not stopping until you're screaming his name, and you squirt out your release. And Steve moans, delighted at how messy you are.

“Good fucking girl!” Jerking his fingers out, he grabs you at the hips. Lifting your bottom up to him, and he buries himself between your thighs. Laving and slurping up every bit of your release. Moaning at your tastes as he sucks every bit of it up.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, but as soon as it starts, he stops. Steve pulls apart your body, and stares at the tiny gape of your hole. You could take so much more, and he was tempted to add a third finger next time. But he wanted more than anything for you to cry when he bottoms out into you. Addicted to something he hadn’t properly got to experience. And that was all of you.

His sight never leaves your cunt as he tells Bucky to pack you a bag because the two of you were going on a short little trip. Bucky nods, knowing exactly where Steve was going to take you. He whispers a prayer for you. If Steve had it his way he was going to fuck this ‘brat’ right out of you.

Bucky wouldn’t call you a brat, but you knew what you were doing. Driving Steve crazy enough to both pleasure and humiliate you. One day you would learn, you didn’t have to push his buttons to get him to play with you. You had this power over Steve that neither of you understood. And Bucky had never witnessed anything quite like this.

“Dovey, if I hear you talk back to me once on this drive, you’re going to ride the rest of the way with two of my fingers in your cunt, and both your titties hanging out of your shirt. Please tell me that you understand.”

His hold loosens on you, and he gives you a moment to sit up. Waiting on you to roll your drenched panties back up your body, and you nod. You couldn’t look at him because he had seen such a private part of you, and showed Bucky, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, girl. You’re learning. Seems like you’re starting to break. Buck, you make sure Sam understands that the two of you are in charge,” Steve holds out his hand as he stands up. Waiting on you to take hold before he leads the two of you to the door.

“Steve, take it easy on her. She’s not ready,” he whispers to his friend, but Steve returns his warning with a smile. He was going to do whatever the fuck he wanted with you. You wanted to know about him, so he was going to give you the opportunity to ask. If you could focus. He’d tell you everything you need to know. He just hopes it’s the right questions.

“Steve, I don’t want to be here,” your lip trembles as he steps out of the car. Stalking over to your side while you stare at only one thing. One cabin. In the middle of fucking nowhere. It had been miles since you even saw the las

“Steve, no!” Screaming as he opens your door. There isn’t any flight left in you. It is just complete shutting down. He holds out his hand for you to take, but you violently shake. He was going to murder you here. “Steve, don’t. Don’t!”

He gives a growl as his hands try to wrangle you out of the vehicle, and you thrash around. If you were going to die, at least you’d die trying. “Please, just…”

“You wanted to ask questions, now get out of the fucking car!” Pulling you a bit harder, you let your body turn to dead weight, and you drop to the ground with a hard thud. Blinking your eyes and coughing as you try to catch your breath.

“Would you shut up?” His voice rattles, hauling you up over his shoulder. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do to you? We’re going in the fucking cabin, and you’re going to ask your stupid damn questions.”

“B-b-b-but we’re alone! You’re going to…” dropping you onto the couch, his body hovers over you. Those blackened with ink arms caging you. He rolls his hips, and his hardening cock skims over your core, and you squeal.

“You like that, huh? You like feeling me on you?” His breath is hot on your skin as he does it again. “We’re all alone, Dovey, and no one can hear your screams when you take every inch of me.”

“I’m not b-b-begging.”

“Aw, but aren’t you?” Readjusting himself, his hand cups your covered core. The face of pure sadistic torture grins down at you. “You’re so hot and wound up you’re going to burn the cabin down, Dovey. You’ve ruined these panties, you're so wet. Quit letting your mind take control, and trust me.”

“I’ll never trust you,” it is something you felt deep within your soul. How could you trust someone that was like him? Someone that got off on your embarrassment, and enjoyed showing it to everyone. “You just want to use me.”

A flash of tattoos comes at your face, and his fingers dig into your cheeks as he grabs you tight. Forcing you to quit looking around, and look straight at him. “Dovey, if I wanted to use you, I would have had you that first night. I did you a kindness in marking you up. People know not to fuck with Steve Rogers. You’re just the stupid girl who came into my lair thinking you would outsmart me. Do you realize how many times I could have fucked you by now? I could have put the cameras on us, and let the club watch as I took the gift that could never be returned. And you’re the brat that wants to keep pushing my fucking buttons.”

You whimper as his weight starts to settle on your body. His monstrosity of a cock pressing into your center, and a flash of blinding light covers your vision, and all you can do is feel. Feel his pulse through his cock as it pounds right at your entrance, and the way his breath blows out over your face as he chuckles. You hate him.

“Sweetheart, it would loosen you up in more ways than one. You need this as much as I do. You’re denying us the ultimate pleasure when all you have to do is let me squeeze through your walls, break them down, too.”

Gulping, you keep perfect eye contact as your head twists back and forth, whispering out, “No.”

A rumble climbs up his chest, and the vibrations go right to your weeping cunt as he sits up. Putting his weight on his heels, and kneeling before you. His body keeps your legs wide, and he pulls up your skirt, watching your covered pussy as he pulls his shirt off.

He is a god amongst men. Rippling cords of muscle stretch over his chest, and it was accentuated perfectly with the most beautiful and intricate designs. The man clearly enjoyed art, but also pain. No inch of his chest wasn’t touched with a needle.

While you’re in a trance with his tattoos, Steve undoes his pants, and gives them a little tug down. “Oh my god!” You screech as his monster dick flops out of his pants. The only thing not covered in tattoos, and right at the tip. “You’re pierced?”

“If it scares you that much, our first time, I’ll take it out. It’s quite pleasurable for you,” Steve wraps his fist around the base, and gives the growing member a few pumps, “You can’t take your eyes off it. Have you ever seen a dick before?”

“Yeah. Plenty of times.”

“Tell me whose dick you’ve seen, little bird.”

“Why?” You look up at him, unblinking. There is a fire that is burning all the way from the pit of his stomach to his eyes. Looking almost demonic as his pupils spread out so wide.

“So I can kill them. No dick that has touched your body is going to stay alive,” he tilts his head to the side, smiling when you finally look up at his face. “I am very serious, sweetheart. Tell me. Their names.”

“I don’t know — I don't know their names,” he tenses in front of you, and you cover your eyes. “They were on the internet,” the walls of the cabin rattle with his booming laughter. While you’re trying to melt away, he runs the tip of his length over your panties, and you flinch. Trying to sit yourself up, but he pushes you back down.

“You mean to tell me I wasted showing you my cock, and it’s the first in life one you’ve ever seen? Dove, no wonder you’re on edge. You just about came undone from my tip at your panties, or maybe it was the piercing. You like the way this feels, my sweet little angel. Come on,” standing up, he fully gets undressed, proving that yes, he was pretty much covered in tattoos. His face and his dick are the exception. “They’re too pretty, darling. Let’s go.”

“Where?” It’s a struggle to sit up with the high emotions you have been feeling. Wobbly legs keep you from standing too quickly. There’s a dizziness that you feel in every part of your body.

“Bucky packed you a bathing suit, put it on, or join me in the hot tub naked. You need to relax,” there was a shift in his voice. Typically there is some grit to it. As if it was constantly filled with anger. Now it sounds — normal. He stands watching you as you try to process what it is you wanted to do. “Do I need to turn around for you to change? I wouldn’t advise running. There’s nobody here for miles. And if you run again, my patience and kindness will be gone, and I can’t promise what I will do.”

“Can I go get my bag?” He nods his head, gesturing for you to go out to the car, and you take careful steps. Counting each inhale and exhale as you walk to the car. Looking back at Steve who remains calm. He dares you to run just so he can capture you in his snares, but you won’t.

This time, you want to listen. Especially if he was going to grant you with asking questions. Bucky sucked at packing your bag. A shirt, panties, and the skimpiest bathing suit you owned. At least he remembered a toothbrush. Feeling a bit more irritated now, you walk back into the cabin, and gawk at Steve.

“Can you turn around?”

“Good girls say please.”

“And I didn’t,” giving you a crooked smile, he turns around. Giving you the smallest privacy to undress.

“I bet it feels nice to get out of those wet panties,” you ignore him. It did feel nice. Everything had started to stick to you, and it was like peeling wet clothes off. “That skin would look really pretty with a needle in it.”

“Why are you like this?” Looking up, you notice a mirror pointed right at you. Steve saw everything. Saw you undress, and didn’t look away.

“Tell me I didn’t make you so wet that you had to use your clothes to wipe your honey off your legs. We’re getting in a hot tub, Dove, it’ll wash right off.”

“Do you ever give privacy?”

“No. But you do have some nice tits. Let’s go,” Steve reaches back to give you a little tug, but you shake your head no, pointing at his dick. “Oh, I don’t get in the hot tub with clothes on. The anaconda will be underwater, you won’t be able to see him.”

“Clarence,” he scrunches his face up as you walk past him, and out on the back porch, assuming that’s where this hot tub was. You just need to not have that thing staring at you right now. “That’s what I’m going to call your penis; Clarence.”

“Clarence? Why not something like The Hammer or…”

“Clarence,” it’s what it was going to be. If he wanted you to look at it, you were going to give it a name that wasn’t so imposing. Steve walks past you, and settles himself into the pool. Giving a soft moan at how the heat was working out his own tension.

“Is it hot?”

“It is, but it’s not as hot as your tight little cunt. How’s she feeling?” Don’t answer him. Allow him his cocky little comments, and do what is asked. Make this easy and unpainful, and you’d feel better for it.

You wait on Steve to settle back into the water, and his eyes roam over your body hungrily. Watching as each inch of it gets swallowed by the heat, and he chuckles when you sit on the opposite side of him. Looking at anything that wasn’t Steve. He cracks his neck, and uses his thick fingers to trace around his lip, and he just smirks at you.

“I don’t like people who go behind my back.”

“I didn’t,” you finally meet his gaze, and it’s hard to look away. He is even sexier with water lapping up against his skin. The same skin that was setting your body ablaze. He had seared into every part of you, and your body craved him. Needed him to touch you.

“Didn’t Bucky tell you that there would be consequences?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I’m talking,” he interrupts, wading over closer to you. Both hands plant themselves on either side of you, and he stands up out of the water. His giant cock wet and bouncing right at your face. “You continue to talk over me, and I’ll slip something in your mouth to keep you quiet. Bucky warned you about the consequences of taking him into your apartment without me. You disobeyed. You chose to ignore him. Playing your stupid fucking childish game of being too naive to realize what you acting up does to me.”

He removes one hand from the back of the hot tub, and grips his cock. Rocking it right at your lips, but never touching you. “I can see it in your eyes how curious you are to know what a real cock feels like. I can show you.”

“I’m not begging,” you cross your legs, clenching them tight together. Refusing to let your pussy get you in any more trouble.

“Yet. Your body is, but your mouth is stubborn. Maybe I should give her a little taste. Come on, suck my dick and join me in the underworld.”

“Continue your threats.”

You whimper when his low growling laugh vibrates at your core. Wondering how he was able to make you feel him in a place he had hardly touched. “What do you want to know about me? I’ll give you five questions to ask, so you better make them count. That is going behind my back, little bird. You want to act all innocent, but you want to know what makes me tick. Why did I become who I am? So ask.”

“Why? Why do you do this?”

“I’m going to count that as two. Be careful next time,” sitting beside you, his hand runs up and down your thigh, and without realizing it, your legs start pulling apart. Giving him ample space to get to your cunt.

“I do this because I can control what’s out there. These streets ran rampant with cheap drugs cut with who the fuck knows. I sell pure. It costs more, but you won’t die from a damn accidental overdose because your drug of choice was laced with something. Three more.”

Your mouth drops open when his hand settles as high up on your thigh as possible sliding down, and rubs over the apex of your thigh, but never where your body truly wants it. You even lean back further, granting him more access, but his fingers don’t drift around. “How…why the playground?”

“You really fucking suck at this. There’s two more. You’re down to one question after this.”

“You’re fucking distracting me!” He grabs you up, placing you in his lap. Your body facing the same way as you. Using his legs to lock your own in place. Moving your bottoms to the side before pressing his dick right in between your pussy lips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!”

“You want to say fuck, you better make sure my dick is so deep inside you that you feel me in your filthy little mouth. I will not give you another chance, Dove. I mean it. I won’t wait for you to be blubbering, and crawling on your knees as you beg for me to be inside. I will take it. Is this your tactic, Dove? I don’t want to take. I want you to fully give that to me. You are so hot and slippery, you’re ready, but are you ready for me to have you down on your knees?”

“Please…” what were you asking him for? Why was he able to make you melt and repulse you simultaneously?

“Please just put it in there?” You shake your head no, and his mouth attacks your neck. Kissing and sucking at the sensitive column, while your hips buck up and down. Allowing his sinful dick to roam through your folds. His tip knocks against your clit, and you lean your head back against Steve.

“Easy, baby. You’re going to make yourself pass out before we get to the good part. That’s my playground. I have fond memories of bullies throwing me around the yard. If it wasn’t for Bucky, I would have died there. I promised myself that not only would I survive, but I was going to be bigger and meaner than any of those pieces of shit, and they would all cower just hearing my name.”

“Steve. Steve!” He is only holding his dick up against your body, it is you that is moving, grinding on him and searching for more, and terrified to have it. But he feels like heaven. He hadn’t even entered inside of you, and you are a mess.

“One more question, Dove. Be a good girl, and ask your pathetic little question since you need to know about the big bad drug lord that is following you around, and becoming more and more obsessed with you. Go on.”

“Why me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He is marking every inch of your neck with his filthy mouth. Yet again making sure that everyone knew that you were taken. And he would kill someone that would just look at you. Willing to murder anyone who’s cock you had seen. Even online porn couldn’t prepare you for this.

“I love challenges. I have this pretty little bird that is dying to be fucked deep and hard, but because of her upbringing or some shit, is denying herself pleasure. You need someone like me,” his voice starts going up an octave, and you grind on him faster. Harder. Both of you are needy and searching for something.

“That’s it, Dovey. I’m…I’m,” he holds your lips apart with two fingers, and presses his spongy tip in your entrance, and as soon as you are screaming at the intrusion, his cum spurts through you. Most of it spilling out, and mixing with the water, but some of it is a glorious warmth that you loathe.

He holds you in place, keeping you from squirming around as he looks down into the water, “I could do it you know. You’re breathing heavily, and this isn’t even the painful part. I’m getting tired of you acting like a little bitch. Do you see how easily I can take, Dove? Do you see that I have you right where I want you, but I’m giving you enough grace and power to tell me when our first time is?”

“But…you’re inside me…Steve, I wasn’t begging.”

“And I’m not fucking. I’m not even an inch inside. Enjoy my seed in you, Dove. Pretty soon it’ll be second nature to take my cock, and be filled with me. You wanted the consequences, this is it. But next time, it’ll be so much worse.”

“Just fuck me then,” you spit out, but he lifts you off him, and stands up. This time rubbing his tip over your pouty lips. You notice the bit of change in him, but keep your mouth shut. Letting him paint you with the remnants of the two of you.

“I’m no longer hard, and you’re not begging. But soon, Dove, soon you’ll wake up to me thrusting into you. You’ll sit on my lap, warming my cock while I distribute the drugs. You will be on all fours at the table, letting me inspect that greedy cunt before I plunge into her, and Bucky gets to see me fill your belly with my child. Get out of this tub, and let's go to bed.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“Why are you?” The audacity! You aren’t mean. “You’re mean to yourself, and I never said I was nice. Get out of this fucking tub, and let’s get in the bed.”

He doesn’t even turn around to look at you as he walks back into the cabin. There was no escape, and you are coming to realize that everyday that you are with him. Were you the problem here? Would it be so bad to let him inside of you?

Questions abound quickly in your mind, and you couldn’t process them long enough to answer. Allowing your body to go on autopilot just for tonight. Even if you are angry at what he just did. But are you? Are you really denying something that was living in between heaven and hell?

“Get in the bed,” Steve growls, pulling back the covers. “I have on underwear,” you gulp as you look around the room. Bucky hadn’t given you much thought to pack your clothes. Barely anything was in your bag.

“Here,” Steve says, tossing you a shirt. And you’re just stubborn enough, and still pissed at him from earlier. Undoing your bathing suit top you let it fall to the floor. Letting Steve angrily stare at your curves, and peaked nipples before letting the bottoms fall.

“You’re pushing me, Dovey,” he growls out. Stunned, and refusing to move. Your skin still damp from the tub. Water drips creating a trail right between your legs. “Dove!”

“Now, you know how it feels,” you’re sure you will pay for that later, but at this moment, it feels like you are taking the power back. You’re choosing to show him your body. Letitng him see how hard your nipples are with desire.

Pulling only his shirt on, you crawl onto the bed, tapping the other side, “Aren’t you going to get in?”

“You didn’t put panties on.”

“But you have on underwear. Seems a fair trade,” he grouses something under his breath, but crawls in behind you, pulling you completely flush with his body. Easing a thigh in between your leg, and pressing it firmly against your core. “Steve?”

“It’s my turn to ask questions,” he ignores your hands that try to push his hard leg away from you. Tense in his embrace, but he starts melting into you. Snuggling his face right behind your ear, and you hate the hold he has over you. “Why are you a virgin?”

“Because I haven’t had sex.”

He growls right up next to your ear, and you bite your lip. Hoping that he couldn’t feel how amazing that sound felt. “Why haven’t you had sex?”

The real question. You didn’t have a smart remark to get you out of it. He wanted the truth, and you weren’t ready to give it to him. “Because…”

“Because why?”

“That’s three questions, Steve.”

“I don’t care about the others. Just answer that one,” you wiggle around, wanting to actually give him the attention he wanted, but his hold is too great. “What are you doing?”

“I want to look at you while I answer,” immediately he lets you go. Waiting on you to flop to the other side, but he still pulls you in tight to him. Lifting your leg to throw over his hip. “I’ve never had this.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re a virgin. I’m sure if you laid like this with a — boyfriend,” the taste of that word is rotten in his mouth. No one deserved you. He didn’t deserve you, he was just desperate enough to capture you and make you his.

“No…not even that,” he cocks up an eyebrow as his features soften. He was beautiful. You had a crazy feeling no one ever saw this soft side of him. He had spent years creating his drug lord persona, that he forgot what being a lowly human was like.

“Boys aren’t interested in me. All my friends had them, and I…I was the third wheel. Or the fifth. But you get the point. No one has ever told me that I was — that I’m beautiful.”

He lets out an exasperated breath, and drifts closer to you. So close his lips brush against yours when he whispers your name, “You’re beautiful. And I’m no boy. I am a man, and you are mine. You don’t have to worry about all the boys that didn’t see you. The boys that didn’t realize what diamond that they had in front of them. And I won't have to worry about murdering them.”

“I’m thankful for that.”

“Look at me, and tell me that you’re beautiful,” it’s a strange request to make, but when you open your mouth nothing comes out. You were taught not to lie, and you didn’t fully believe it yourself. You had spent most of your life invisible, and no one ever noticed you, until this man came out of the shadows, and was trying to bring you into his own world of darkness.

“Say it. Tell me that you’re beautiful. Dovey, please,” you can’t. You shake your head no, letting your eyes start to close as you try and fight away the tears. He wasn’t going to see you cry. “You’re beautiful. And if I have to be the one to tell you that everyday for you to realize that you are, I will. Maybe that’s my purpose. You’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous. And sexy. And kind. And I want to corrupt you and bring you over into my darkness. Make you my whore, so you realize how irresistible that I find you.”

“Stop. Please, don’t…” he hears the crack in your voice. He would kill everyone that dared to make you feel unworthy. You were worthy. You were everything.

“You’re beautiful, darling. I have perfect vision, and I have seen a lot of women. None are as spectacular as you. Close your eyes, relax in my embrace because I’m never letting you go ever again. You’re stuck with me. I don’t want you to lose your fight, but just for tonight. Let’s call a truce.”

“Fine,” you mumble, finally letting his warmth envelop you as you relax in his embrace. It is an oddly satisfying and safe feeling. You were close enough to smell his musky cologne that lingered on his skin. His heartbeat creating a perfect rhythm to lull you to sleep, “Just for tonight.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Next time I’ll make sure we fall asleep with your cunt squeezing my cock,” insufferable asshole. You started to feel something. Not your body, but you. And then he opened his mouth. But at least it meant you weren’t falling. And you wouldn’t. Not with him.

Masterlist

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buckets-and-trees · 4 months

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Warm Shadows - Carving Through the Dark (3/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows [ part one | part two ] Title: Carving Through the Dark Characters/Pairings: established Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 14.4k

Summary: Worse than a nightmare because it's real, Bucky has to track down his kidnapped omega and the man - the super soldier - who had been his closest friend turned into the dark, rival alpha, Captain Hydra.

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, angst, explicit smut, vaginal intercourse, consensual forced orgasm

Logistical Notes: Shhh - yes this was the final story update I had planned for the Dark Forest Fest and it's the first week of January! But. Well. The word count. But we're here now, okay? Title taken from Hozier's Who We Are.

Additional Notes: Okay, I know that I did a poll asking last month if folks wanted the final chapter split into two parts or just one long chapter and - er - I kind of did both. I did not split this chapter, but a couple of days ago I realized we needed a fourth and final part. Lastly, @biteofcherry has been an absolute lifeline during the composition of this chapter - thank you for putting up with my conjectures and letting me piece together some of the elements. And even a little thank you to @rookthorne for cheering and bullying me over how long this got.

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

“I can’t help you,” Shuri states, though there’s the flicker of it almost being one final question of it in her eyes.

“No,” Bucky confirms. “No more than you already have.”

He knows she says it as one last opportunity for him to change his mind, but also in acknowledgment that he must do this on his own. They clasp hands and then he turns to walk up the ramp of the aircraft.

“James,” she says when he’s nearly gone. He turns back to look at his friend, one who has seen him at the best and worst of times. “Whoever he is now, he knows Bucky, he knows the Winter Soldier, he will have learned everything about the Soldat from their archives, so you must truly be the White Wolf. She knows the wolf, but he does not.”

He nods and then walks further into the aircraft, leaving Shuri behind.

After you’d been violated and taken from him, Bucky had lain in anguish until just before dawn, raging over the loss of his world and everything he’d worked for, built, found, cherished. He would find you again – when he’d sworn, “There’s no corner of this earth you can go where I won’t find you,” it had been a promise to you as much as a warning to the monster – but none of you three were the same after that night.

To be the White Wolf…

It will take all the tactics he learned in the army, that he was forced to acquire as Hydra’s finest assassin, and since he escaped and then truly reclaimed his freedom. As angry as he is, as desolate as he feels, he holds the emotions at arms’ length, he needs to be at the eye of the hurricane so he can maneuver the way he needs to.

Bucky hasn’t been able to feel you. His desperate hope is that it’s because you’re sedated and unconscious and not … not anything else.

In Wakanda he and Shuri hadn’t been able to find even a sliver of a trace of the jet that had come and gone for Steve to enact his plan. It was a statement that whoever he was now, Captain Hydra was utilizing every ounce of knowledge Steve had and blending it with whatever Hydra hat put in him.

Bucky won’t leave a trail either.

It will take Steve time to figure out how Bucky left Wakanda – on foot, ground transport, or air transport – if he can figure it out. But Bucky was the untraceable ghost over fifty years of missions for Hydra, and he didn’t have the motivation he does now.

Bucky devised that going on the already-scheduled aircraft to the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland gave him the best options. He assumes Steve would have managed to get into the networks used by the Avengers and SWORD, and since he flew an aircraft in and out of Wakanda undetected and Bucky won’t be able to use Wakandan technology to best him either, so landing in Oakland also puts him in proximity to the hardware, software, and network resources he would need to build his own tech. During his convalescence in Wakanda before the Infinity War, it had been days of goats and technology research and development in the most advanced science facility in the world. He is not the expert that Shuri is, but he knows enough. His aversion to much of “modern” technology has always been due to how primitive it was compared to anything from Wakanda.

It takes weeks, but Bucky acquires the hardware he needs, modifies software, creates the network and protocols he needs to start Hydra hunting, and puts it all to work. He knows what to look for – the patterns, the seemingly innocuous inconsistencies – and he knows it because he was running data point for the team of analysts dedicated to Hydra hunting before this. He had taken more responsibility at the base of operations and fewer and fewer field assignments to be home and build his life with you.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate in ignoring any ethical limits whatsoever for his surveillance protocols. When he was working within the system, they had established some lines they weren’t willing to cross.

With seven billion humans in existence and him alone looking for two, lines to cross no longer exist.

He knows he will never get his life back, but he will not let anything prevent him from getting you back.

He puts every piece into play immediately as he builds, sleeps only the bare minimum. Truthfully he had only indulged in more than the minimal sleep a super soldier needed these past years because it was time spent blissfully with you. Without a reason to rest, he didn’t have any problem cutting back to short sleep allotments to keep him operating at peak condition.

In putting his own tap into the Avengers’ database, he studies the work that had gone on while he was gone for his annual retreat away with you. He discovers that Steve and Sam followed leads in Europe.

“Damn you idiots,” he murmurs.

The reports show his two friends go dark after losing comms nearly a month ago. A team went in after them and their debrief says they found only their communication devices. ‘Search ongoing…’

That was a month ago.

He knows the status of Steve.

Sam could be a live asset in play, an asset still being trained and molded by Hydra, their prisoner for torture, or he could have been eliminated already.

It takes him sixteen days from the beginning of his build to finish – he’d been collecting intelligence, but once everything is in play and he continues to hone in on incoming results, things progress systematically, satisfyingly, in a foreign familiarity that evokes memories of this time hunting as the Winter Soldier.

Two more days and he’s got enough evidence in the intelligence to confirm you’re somewhere in Europe. Within two hours Bucky recalibrates calculations based the new findings, conducts new searches, gets confirmation of a face on a traffic camera in Gdańsk that looks like Steve, and when he’s able to piece a clear trail that follows him through the city and then to an aircraft that he’s further able to track until it disappears over northern Italy. He knows this for what it is – a trail tempting him closer to the trap. A challenge, an invitation, but only if he can put together more pieces to find you. How many times did he set beautifully complex traps for some of his prize targets when he was the Winter Soldier? Breadcrumbs to entice, to drive his opponent to work harder, to put their prowess to work, to make them feel confident so he could trick, trap, and kill them in the end.

This monster of a man tricked him in Wakanda. It will be the only time. Expert and intricate traps of this sort are something his opponent has been playing with for a few weeks. Bucky has more practice and expertise, infinitely more motivation, and no distractions.

He travels under cover of transports between Wakandan outreach centers from Oakland to Washington DC, and then from Washington to Bilbao. When he touches down in Bilbao, his information relay device has a new lead based off a visual of Steve in a bookshop in Turin twice in the previous week.

He takes the train to Turin. Within twelve hours he finds the location of the Hydra facility, and Bucky makes enough noise to reveal to Hydra that he’s in the city and trigger the personnel to raise the facility to its red alert security status. He plants a false trail indicating that he’s given up and gone further north, all the while watching every aspect of the base, making plans to infiltrate, and ensuring sure none of the vehicles or teams moving in and out look like they’re transporting you somewhere else. They drop to an orange threat level, and then yellow – standard caution and operating procedures.

Bucky would have been floored that they believed he’d missed them in Turin and moved on to search somewhere else, but it spoke to one of the weaknesses of Hydra’s organization: the arrogance. Instead, Bucky hacks into their base network as well as their external communications channels.

This observation, research, recon, and analysis Bucky does not rush. Everything he cares about is at stake. If he’s going to be successful in getting you back there can be no room for error as he’ll be up against Hydra and the only other super soldier on the planet who could potentially match or outmatch him.

And as the weeks wear on, the other thing he cannot deny, that he’d known from the beginning of this nightmare even if he’d wanted to try to ignore it, it that he isn't in this to rescue only you.

When all is said and done, the reality is he has to get Steve back, too.

Bucky knows the longer it takes, the more dangerously close he gets to your next heat. He knows an omega being in a distressed environment will affect the heat cycle. It could bring it on early, or potentially also push you to the extremes of a dry heat depending on the conditions they are keeping you in, and how you’re feeling. Once he determines he knows enough to start putting together a plan of extraction, he also determines it’s too close to when your heat might hit, and he can’t risk trying to extract you if you’re in heat – it becomes an element he can’t predict and ensure that his plan will still be successful.

His own senses are strained with the tenor of your unease in a way that’s different from before. It’s driving his alpha side mad, and he wants to storm the facility and reclaim you, and that’s one more element contributing to the volatility of the situation. He knows he can’t gamble on so many unpredictable elements.

He must wait.

But when he sees Captain Hydra leave in his jet right when Bucky is certain you are close to your heat, Bucky is stunned.

It might be too damn close to your heat, but clearly you’re not in heat yet or the other alpha would not leave you. This was not his plan, but it is a prime opportunity he can’t ignore – not if he can get to you alone and save you from a heat away from him. His heart can’t deny this unexpected opportunity.

After Bucky had hacked into the Hydra base’s network, he’d discovered that the small jet Captain Hydra had exclusive use of had been excluded from all navigational tracking and that the man only communicated by radio with one individual whenever he left. He’d further discovered that Captain Hydra was a weapon still cloaked from most of Hydra, with nothing about him other than his existence as a new asset available on the network. Even his former identity was not yet disclosed or recorded anywhere digitally.

This means Bucky has no idea where the man is going or when he will be back, but he hears Captain Hydra and his liaison discuss and confirm his time of arrival and his estimated time of return. Bucky must work quickly, but there is a window.

As he had not anticipated infiltrating so soon, he still has to finish putting things together for the actual extraction – like transportation, supplies, and thoroughly planning out three escape routes and destinations – and while he works quickly, he does not rush those final preparations, and so that takes him a significant amount of the window of time he knows he has.

But he only needs long enough to get you out.

He will have that.

He ambushes the delivery truck bringing in the week’s food shipment with no trouble and drives it right into the base as he has all the proper credentials on his person and its still pre-dawn hours, so lack of light works in his favor to get through the first gate.

But of course when he doesn’t follow delivery procedures once he rolls up to the shipping and receiving dock, that’s when his limited time really begins. The first decision he must make is whether or not to take out a man of average height but portly build that approaches the truck – one of the cooks, Bucky has studied the personnel files for everyone registered on this base – and Bucky evaluates as he steps out of the truck. He could kill him, but this man should probably be spared. Bucky doesn’t want unnecessary blood on his hands. So with lightning fast moves and a choke hold, the man goes down. But next are two security personnel, and them Bucky shoots point blank, taking each of them out with single shots. He leans down to lift the comms off one of them, putting the piece in his ear so he can hear everything as it unfolds across the base.

He yanks open the first door and moves down the hallway. And then there’s a frantic message over the comms, “Code Red! Winter Soldier, loading docks, two personnel down, in pursuit!”

Bucky growls and turns back down the hallway and swears when he sees the man putting comms in his ear and squaring up a gun he’d clearly lifted off one of the security guards was the cook he thought he’d put out cold. Apparently the man had more in him than Bucky had accounted for, and so now Bucky takes aim and shoots him once he’s close enough to secure the kill shot, only having to dodge two close but errant bullets himself as the cook had tried to run him down.

Lethal force for everyone it is, he thinks.

He’s irritated he wasted extra time on this man trying to keep down the body count.

He does not make that mistake again, killing everyone who comes across his path. The silver lining working in his favor is that this base in Turin is a science facility, not a military facility, so he has fewer muscle personnel to deal with than other places you could have been kept, and he can hear over the main comms that scientists and researchers are being given orders to shelter in place while there are instructions given over the security comms in Bucky’s ear that prime-level scientists are to be evacuated. It’s the directive he expected, which benefits him as the security personnel are split between pursuing him and evacuating those individuals deemed indispensable.

But dealing with those who are in pursuit of him is simple. When he’s out of ammunition, he makes quick work dealing what should be lethal wounds with his knives. Every man or woman down is one less he will need to contend with while trying to safely get you out, and while he’s reasonably sure he’s dealing death to everyone, there are a few he thinks may survive.

He has studied every aspect of this facility while making his preparations, and he sends a message to Captain Hydra that he was prepared by shooting glances cleanly into every camera he knows he passes.

There’s a flash of fear that ripples through him – it comes from the bond he’s tried to keep dormant between you since you were taken, but this is too powerful, and it’s a barb he can’t ignore. It flares and then dies out, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing. He squares his shoulders and moves more quickly.

As Bucky reaches the quadrant they’ve been keeping you a few moments later, the words, “The Omega is secured, sedated, and ascending to the roof with team Foxtrot, thirty seconds until air evac.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He knows he can’t make it in time, but Bucky still races down the hall to the stairwell, launching through the door and then hurtling up the stairs, taking them three and four at a time. His super speed isn’t enough to scale four flights of industrial facility stairs, and he bursts out on the roof to see the coaxial helicopter already twenty meters up in the air and navigating away to the north.

He wants to shout until his lungs bleed because he was so close, but he knows he can’t afford to indulge in emotions that strong in this moment. Instead, he takes huge gulps of the fresh air, pulls the door from its hinges, and hurls it across the roof before going back down the stairs.

He does not engage with anyone but comes across few through his retreat. Instead, his focus now is decimating what he can of the facility without wasting time or going out of his way as he escapes the base, rigging explosives quickly in key areas on his way out.

While he left destruction in his wake, and he leaves alone, he was precise in how much damage he dealt. He left the area of main logistical operations intact because he didn’t want to destroy their network and communications, eliminating his ties to tracking their next moves.

Bucky immerses himself in tracking and monitoring everything the second he’s back in his hideout with his tech. He sees the Captain return. He watches the final evacuations. They send him to Geneva, and Bucky is ready to follow, knowing exactly where the Swiss facility is located since he’s fully infiltrated the Hydra network of information. He can’t travel as quickly since he doesn’t have access to any Hydra aviation, but he makes it there by sundown.

He wouldn’t risk trying to disrupt your heat now, not with everyone moved and on high alert, it would be dangerous for you. Instead, he works on setting up his new undercover observation point in Switzerland. He fine tunes his information tap into the Hydra system. As he works, he notices the rise of an anxious feeling pulling at his hind brain. He’s felt the press of you trying to reach across the bond while you’ve been apart, but this is different – there’s a frantic, wild tug, and while it’s insistent, it’s more erratic, like the flickering of a flame, as if you aren’t even concentrating on the connection to him.

He knows so much of you that he knows you have to be on the brink of your heat but that you must desperately be trying to fight it. The discomfort he can sense continues to ebb and flow. It morphs. It becomes tinged with more discomfort. Then there’s a lick of desire that is almost imperceptible. That’s followed rather quickly be a flare of adrenaline – or is it fear? Another shift a few minutes later, and tone of this is pure arousal, the feeling he’s shared so much of with you, and the thought that you…

He grits his teeth, shuts his eyes, and abruptly stills every muscle in his body. You are his omega. Another alpha bonded you. Your heat is undeniable. His brain knows that – it’s one of the things he’s been focusing on, acknowledging the various scenarios that could play out for this heat, he just did not want this, nor was he prepared for what it might feel like. And so, with forced, measured breaths, he does everything he can to concentrate on shutting down the connection, to put his alpha side to sleep, because he can not bear this. He has suppressed so much of everything since losing you, only holding onto the faintest tether, but he cannot endure this – not and keep his rationality and do what he needs to do now, which is to formulate the next steps, the things he needs to figure out and watch for now that this cruel game has changed. Emotion will distract him, but there’s also the flow that could go the other way and throw you off, and he swore to keep you safe.

Diving into the network databases of this new Hydra facility, Bucky notices something he noticed in Turin: there are no records that contain any of your names on file – not you, not Steve, not Sam. He thought it was strange before, but he had a theory it could have been the nature of secrecy around all the projects at the research facility in Turin – there were very few data files on the science being explored on that base. But in transferring the Turin personnel out, with a contingent of them going to Geneva, he pours over all the documentation and the only he finds is the transfer of a high-level asset referred to only as Waffe SR4718. He easily knows the German word for weapon, and without missing a beat Bucky knows the letters and numbers are supposed to seem random but clearly refer to Steve Rogers whose birthdate is the fourth day of the seventh month in the eighteenth year of the previous century. It’s innocuous to anyone coming across it, but abundantly clear that it’s specific for those who were supposed to know.

With all Bucky knows of his own time with Hydra, how there were always layers within layers, secrets buried, hidden, withheld, he’s certain the acquisition of Steve and metamorphosis into Captain Hydra is as dark and as quiet as his own existence as the Winter Soldier.

There are quarters assigned to Waffe SR4718, and Bucky tags it track all status alerts – comings and goings, services, requests. He also puts the cameras for that hallway up on a constant feed monitoring protocol with the AI he’s adapted to bring up the imagery if there’s any movement in or out of the door.

Knowing you’re in heat, Bucky concentrates on new extraction tactics and mapping out escape options from this new facility.

But at three in the morning during the second night in Geneva – the second night of your heat – the door movement alert goes off, and Bucky immediately turns his attention to watch as Steve slowly emerges.

Why would he have any reason to leave you during your heat? He knows he could order food, clothing, bedding, medical personnel if absolutely necessary…

A quick check of the log shows that there have been no such requests.

And then he sees the unthinkable.

You’re right there behind him, following as he starts to make his way down the hall, dressed in darker clothing as he is. He has a small tactical pack slung across his back.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The question is only uttered out of frustration and disbelief because he could immediately decipher what is happening.

As precarious as it is to interfere with your heat, the two of you are clearly on the move.

The other alpha has no intention of staying at this base.

But why?

His mind begins deciphering even as he’s pulling up security cameras as the pair of you move through the facility, tracking your movements and actions.

The calculated risk is to get out when you’re supposed to be in heat. Bucky did see that status reported on the log – omega in heat. The protocols were to leave alpha and omega Hydra personnel undisturbed unless a priority one situation developed – typically reserved for life or death and rarely anything less urgent or pressing. It meant no one would think to check after the asset immediately. Even if an alpha skipped regular ordering for a meal or two to the living quarters, that wouldn’t be taken as out of the ordinary, merely unnecessary or forgotten due to being otherwise occupied, or deciding to make do with the food already with them.

The movement logically progresses toward the transportation hangar under the building – intending to employ ground transport.

On the way, the two of you duck into a room and close the door. Bucky accesses the schematics to discover it’s a data analytics workspace – cooperative computer sharing area. There weren’t any goons to hide from, so Bucky works quickly, trying to pull up the specific workstations in there. He sees the log in for a science officer. The user accesses the personnel transfer files for everyone from the Turin base submitted due to the evacuation. Four names are brought up on the roster and their locations are changed from Turin to the other the other bases anyone from Turin was reassigned to – a pair of them to Odessa, the other pair to Trondheim.

Subterfuge. He’s displacing security agents – or at least their location statuses.

Bucky frowns.

The rest of your course takes you directly to the vehicle hangar. Moving in the dead of night has capitalized on as few people as possible moving around the base for you to encounter, and it paid off. The other alpha selects a smaller SUV, loads some readily available weapons and supplies from the nearby vicinity into the back and then – faster than lightning – he withdraws something from a pocket near his chest, presses it over your mouth, and Bucky can see you seize up and then slump into his arms. He tucks you in amongst the supplies before throwing a canvas over everything and closing the hatchback.

Clearly you had been cooperating with this escape, so why was it necessary to knock you out?

Then he leaves the vehicle, leaves the hangar, goes back up two floors to the security personnel floor, and knocks on one of the doors.

Bucky accesses the database to see who’s assigned to that room as he watches this man converse briefly with whoever answers the door.

The two names assigned to the room match the two names reassigned to the Trondheim base on the evacuation transfer records.

“What larger game are you playing, Captain Hydra?” Bucky murmurs.

Because it’s back down to the hangar and the SUV with you stashed in the back, but then he waits.

And within five minutes, two men in full tactical gear get in the vehicle as well, and only then does he start up the car and leave. There’s a tracking device on this vehicle, so Bucky starts to pack up his tech, and pulls up the tracking on his smartphone.

He’s about to shut and pack away his laptop when he thinks of doing one more thing. It will take time, and this is why he knows Captain Hydra didn’t do it, but it will be worth it. But after his time in Wakandan labs and building up his own robust systems, within twenty-five minutes, Bucky has gone through the security camera system and successfully removed all footage of you and the captain moving throughout the base, rewriting it with the empty hallways from just before and after, effectively erasing the evidence of your escape. This will buy more time. No one may have thought to look for any movement in and out of Waffe SR4718’s quarters, but now they won’t find it when they ultimately go back and try, extending Bucky’s time to tail you without Hydra in the mix. They will assume the alpha and omega are still in heat seclusion now without any reason to doubt it.

Bucky leaves his temporary Geneva hideout with the essentials he arrived with. He chose this location because it was two streets down from one of the larger private car services in Switzerland. Bucky knows he can pass as a mechanic with his clothing, and the service staff works overnight to keep up maintenance for the large fleet of vehicles that provide VIP transportation, airport pick up and drop off, limousine transfers, corporate chauffeur services, ski transfers, and event chauffeuring. Acquiring a non-descript vehicle is as easy as he hoped, and it’s more than simple to de-activate this car’s GPS tracking system.

Within half an hour, he’s comfortably in pursuit. The vehicle he’s tracking has maintained its course and is an hour out of the city now, but an hour ahead is reasonable.

When the Hydra vehicle is three hours outside of Geneva, it makes its first stop. Bucky presses a button on his phone to pin the location. The stop is for less than five minutes, and then it continues, but Bucky will stop there as well to assess the purpose and glean any information he can.

Bucky is an assertive driver, making up speed, but not at a point to draw attention. When he reaches the pin he’d set on the route for the stop your vehicle had made, it’s on a bridge.

There’s only one reason Bucky can think of to stop on a bridge.

A reason that could make Bucky’s heart stop with devastation, but he must continue to operate under the assumption it wasn’t your body dumped into the river. Anything else wouldn’t make sense.

Unless the other alpha has become completely unhinged and all of this is an elaborate game to drive Bucky beyond all limitations of his own reason.

Within the next two hours, he sees you pass the border into Germany, and then another stop is registered on the GPS tracking near the city of Albstadt. Bucky has made up a significant amount of the head start the other alpha had had. When he arrives in Albstadt, he finds the SUV. It is most likely that this vehicle had been abandoned for another, but Bucky has to stop at this point and tap into security feeds for the city to see whether you’re here or not. He picks a spot that advertises wifi with their sandwiches, refueling his body while setting up his tech in a spot most won’t question him to hunker down for some serious work on a laptop. He gets into the city’s street cameras, sees Steve steal another vehicle, pulls the license plate, and then he programs his algorithm to watch for the number to track the route now. He won’t be able to smoothly follow the route of a GPS-tracked vehicle anymore, but Bucky knew this would grow more difficult. As long as his goal was to draw out the Soldat, Captain Hydra will still leave a trail of breadcrumbs, but it will be scant if he’s trying to evade Hydra.

While Bucky has questions of intent, he has no question that it’s what the Captain is doing now.

Bucky is able to pick up the trail with license plate tracking and route mapping into Stuttgart. All the way to the train station. But this is where the other alpha shows incredible skills for blending in. It’s a busy station. Bucky will have to run thorough security camera assessments of the Stuttgart station, figure out when – or if – they got on a train, and then continue tracking from there. If the alpha and omega got on a train, Bucky can at least narrow his search to that route and its stops for that schedule, but Bucky used train stations to cover his tracks as well, and sometimes that involved never boarding the train but leading anyone tracking him to believe that he had.

With that much information, he writes new coding into his overall system, sends it back to the larger machine he left in Oakland to do the heavy computing so it can start the work he’ll need to fine tune once he can settle in a more permanent stopover, pays for his meal, and then drives to Stuttgart. The hacking into facial recognition has been so enhanced beyond boundaries though – especially because he can tailor it to look for only two faces he knows as well as his own – that he sees the two of your board a train headed west, targets the route, sets up the watch parameters for the schedule, and catches you getting off in Paris.

Another smart move blending into the vibrancy of a large city, but Bucky is sure it’s not the final destination either. But Steve knew enough French to blend into the country, as well.

It takes Bucky and his systems six more days, but he confirms three separate facial recognitions for the other alpha in a town outside of Bordeaux small enough to be off the beaten path but big enough to blend in and go unnoticed by its people.

Bucky travels there as quietly as possible. He does not want to tip his hand. He’s too close now to have you slip through his hands again.

After two more days and with the assistance of satellite imaging, he has found the small house in a forested area outside of the town.

Bucky grips the edge of the small desk he’s been working at, grounding himself. Adrenaline had immediately surged through his veins, but he must keep everything contained. He has practiced so much control and restraint that if his heart betrays him now, he’ll carve it out himself and leave it behind. He cannot compromise this delicate situation.

He drives out to the area and leaves his vehicle well-hidden a kilometer out from the house and approaches on foot, circling at a large perimeter and slowly moving further in, cautiously, taking in everything. He doesn’t want to trip anything the other alpha may have set up to alert him to intruders.

What he discovers is minimal, and all old tactical elements – things they’d done as

Cap and the Howling Commandos back in the old war.

Effectively things that would have worked on anyone from this day and age but that only Bucky would know to look for.

He doesn’t trust it.

This is another trap.

But he has to walk into it and fare as best he can.

That’s what Captain Hydra had said was his plan from the beginning – draw out the Soldat.

The White Wolf would enter the trap but would need to control it and come out on the other side with his omega.

He can’t even think those words without his pulse racing now, and he digs his vibranium fingers into the trunk of the tree under his hand, splintering the wood while he closes his eyes and stamps down everything that wants him to sprint to the house he can see, break down the door, and launch himself into your arms.

He timed his approach when he’d seen the other alpha leave – likely for more food and supplies – but he knew the time alone would be limited.

Bucky takes measured but determined steps to the green wooden front door of what’s essentially a little cottage.

Straining his ears and focusing on his enhanced hearing, he doesn’t pick up anything beyond ambient noises – and your soft, slow breathing.

He takes a deep breath, slowly twists the doorknob, and opens the door.

There you are, curled up in a cozy armchair, dozing, hand pressed up against the spine of a book that has fallen to your chest after you clearly fell asleep reading, and this.

This simple scene nearly knocks him to his knees.

The way you’re there, feet away from him, it’s the most beautiful sight of his entire life.

But still, he is quiet, cautious.

His entire chest aches for you.

He shuts the door softly behind him, then crosses the small living room and kneels next to you. He eases the book out of your hands and puts it on the small side table. He’s done this before so many times. You make a slight hum through your sleep.

Brushing his fingers over your cheek is almost enough to make the nightmare of the last six weeks vanish as if it really had only been a nightmare.

He almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

But the warmth of his hand against your skin evidently reaches in to stir something in your subconscious, because you shift slightly, sigh, and tilt your head into his touch and murmur, “Bucky…”

The stutter of his chest is both painful and euphoric at once, and everything wells up in his chest, everything he’s been holding back.

He drops his hand from your cheek to your shoulder, gently trying to nudge you awake.

Coming back into consciousness, you take in a deep breath before blinking your eyes open. Your gaze drifts to him, and then your body seizes up one moment, and the next you’re scrambling up and away from him, whipping over the back of the armchair you’d been curled up in.

“Bucky?” your voice comes out in a wounded whimper of a tone that pierces him, confounds him.

“Yes, it’s me,” he answers, brow furrowing. He hadn’t allowed himself to think over what this moment was going to be like – he knew the fixation would have been too painful to hope over – but it was not supposed to be this, with you looking at him with caution, with hesitancy, with your guard up.

“Omega?” he questions tentatively, rising from where he’d been crouched on the floor.

You don’t move your position, but you draw yourself up to your full height as well.

Bucky maneuvers around the furniture, wanting to remove the barrier between you, but he changes his position slowly, allowing you time to retreat if you feel compelled to. You hold your ground but do keep yourself squared off facing him as he moves. He does what he hasn’t done since this ordeal began and definitively opens up the gateway of the bond between you, tentatively reaching out, trying to read you.

Your mood is hard, and it doesn’t fluctuate. There’s a steady mix of fear, doubt, and what he thinks is exasperation there.

No, it’s more than that.

“You’re angry with me?”

“I’m more than angry with you!” you hurl the words at him and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m livid.”

“I came to you as fast as I could!” He steps closer, and now you step back. He moves closer again, but with a smaller step.

“It’s not that, I know you worked as hard as you could–“

“Then what else could you possibly be upset about, Omega?” His tone is desperate, earnestly seeking the answer, but also tinged with a warning he can’t help from bleeding into the question.

“I couldn’t feel you.” The anger gives way to let the anguish of your words bleed through, and they sweep over both of you. “You cut yourself off from me. I was desolate and scared and alone, and you withdrew any hint of our connection.”

He steps forward once more, finally close enough to reach for you, and as he continues to close the distance, you unfold one of your arms and backhand slap him. “I needed you!”

Bucky staggers a step back from the raw force you hurled at him, but it only takes him the space of a breath for him to recover enough, and he surges forward and pulls you into his arms, uttering your name the way one pleads in a fraught prayer. You try and push against his chest and squirm out of his arms, but he only secures you more firmly, holding you dearly and desperately to him.

“I needed you,” you sob out. Instead of continuing to try to struggle away from him, to hold your hurt at bay, he feels you stop fighting and the turn as you let everything out. He holds you, soothing you, but not trying to quell any of this yet. He knows everything you’re feeling is warranted, can feel now that you held back as much as he did while you were apart. Endured as much hurt as he did – more in many ways. He won’t tell you to settle down, because the hurt needs to be acknowledged and not minimized.

Once your chest is no longer wracked with sobs, when your crying has abated from steady streams of tears to the small sniffling, he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. Then Bucky decisively nuzzles his face down into the crook of your neck. Slowly, tentatively, he presses his lips to the place he claimed and bonded you as his omega, his mate. You whimper, but your hands clutch at his shirt, and the immediate flood of relief, of love, of devotion, washes over you both. He can feel it, he knows you feel it.

His large hands are planted firmly on your back, one at the curve of your spine, and one between your shoulder blades, pressing you as close together as he possibly can. He plants a longer, more concentrated kiss to the mark, and your right hand slides up to thread your fingers into his hair and press him closer.

The more he kisses into your neck, the more whole he feels. He had ignored the hollow, empty feeling in his chest, had truly rejected all feeling, as cold and empty as he’d operated while being the Winter Soldier. He’s feeling human again. Himself again – or at least it’s all coming back to him now.

He doesn’t even realize when your body has fully melted into him, too caught up in the mending of the connection, but then you’re urging his face up away from your neck, but only so you can press your forehead to his, and you say, “I need you, Bucky.”

He nods, and then you kiss him. In a movement familiar to you both, his hand moves down, curving over your ass and to the back of your thigh, and he picks you up. Your legs wrap around him as you deepen the kiss, nipping at his lips. He carries you across the big open space to where there’s a bed in the far corner.

He sets you down gently on your feet, and his hands are already reaching for the hem of your shirt, and you readily lift your arms so he can pull it cleanly off your body. You’re reaching for his belt, and he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. Your lips eagerly seek each other as much as they can. You push his dark jeans down, and he huffs and sits down at the foot of the bed so he can hastily unlace and yank his boots off, so he can shuck his pants off all the way. When he raises his head, you stand before him in nothing but your simple underwear, one hand pressed against your torso, biting your lip.

You’re so damn beautiful to him, his heart aches again at the sight of you nearly naked before him again after so long torn apart.

He reaches for you, and though you don’t hesitate to take his hand, as he tugs you into his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his hips, he doesn’t miss the slight tremble of your body, and it kills him but there’s a deep part of him that resonates, recognizes the feeling. The separation had been hell on an alpha and omega level, and this is still too much, overwhelming, and altogether not nearly enough to soothe the deep loneliness he had pushed beneath the surface. His arms wrap around you again. While your left arm wraps around his neck, your right hand roams over his bare skin – shoulder, arms, chest, neck, face – questing to rememorize him.

He wants to be inside you, but having your chest pressed into to his chest, it’s like your heartbeats are syncing back together, and he almost needs this more. The side of your face rests against his, and the way he can hear you breathe in and out right next to his ear, can feel the warmth of every exhale, it’s yet another inimitable balm he didn’t know he longed for.

He murmurs your name softly against your shoulder.

“Mmm?”

He knows you can tell he’s working out something to say. Every season you two had been together had been time you had worked to only continually knit your souls more tightly to each other, not only to love each other more, but to understand each other, to work together, to support and lean into each other as true partners.

It had made the separation all the more painful.

He squeezes you more tightly for a moment, then inhales to speak. “I need to tell you why I put up the walls I did.”

He feels you tense slightly in his arms – of course he does, there’s no way for him to miss it any more than there was any chance for you to try and hide it when this intimately entwined. He bestows a soft, light kiss to your bonding mark, and you whimper, but turn your head to brush your lips over his cheek, and then both of you draw back just enough to look at each other.

“I’ll never know if it was the right or wrong thing to do to you, but it felt like the only way I could hope to survive navigating back to you. Immediately I knew I couldn’t allow the anguish of pain and anger I was feeling to flood to you when I knew you were living your own nightmare. When I held that back, the way Hydra had conditioned me to repress all feelings when I was their fist resurfaced, and I knew shelving the emotions would leave me to focus and be more effective in everything I was doing to track you and find you.”

“Bucky,” you start, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes pleading for you to let him continue. You give a little huff. “Okay.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he pecks your lips before going on. “When I was closing in on where they were keeping you, I didn’t want to alert you and have you have to worry about how to hide that.”

“That’s a fair strategic tactic,” you grudgingly admit.

He grins at your tone, but it abates quickly. “I also…”

He pauses for half a beat and takes a breath to steel his resolve because you deserve his raw honesty as it’s still a concern in play.

“Also what?”

“I didn’t know how much of our bond he would feel. I didn’t want to tip him off, but I – I didn’t want to feel what might go the other way and bleed from him through you either.”

“Oh, Buck,” you bury your head into the crook of his neck now, nuzzling against the bonding mark you’d given him. “Our bond is ours, not his.”

“It’s not?”

“No, no,” you press quick successive kisses against your bonding mark on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You might feel the wake of what I feel from his bond to me, but the ties to each of you are very distinct within me. I’m especially sure of it now that ours isn’t dormant anymore.”

He holds you close while he sorts through this revelation from you. “I didn’t know – and I was worried if I felt him it would either devastate or enrage me and either way make me overrule logic and slip up, do something rash.”

“Now I understand,” you speak right into his ear. “Concentrate though, what do you feel right now?”

He breathes in. Breathes out. Another breath in. Out.

“Only you,” he says, no question.

Your lips drift back down his neck, and you press an insistent kiss to your claim on him this time, then you open your lips and suck over the spot.

Bucky shivers and groans, and you wince and laugh when his arms flex around you so tightly it actually hurts. Because he reacts so strongly, it doesn’t shock him in the slightest that you’re spurred on to seek more, but now he’s ready, so when you’ve satisfied with your initial torment and he feels you slot your teeth over the mark, he bares his neck, ready when you bite down to renew your claim on him, and he shouts – euphoric, flooded and overwhelmed with the way everything opens in such a raw way when a bonding mark is refreshed.

It drives you to rock your hips against him. You’re both still in those last pieces of underwear, but the friction of your cunt against his cock is glorious, and he can’t help the satisfied rumble in his chest in answer to the simple action.

His hand clamps on your plump, round ass, and he pushes you hard against him and holds you there – he doesn’t want the rocking, for a moment he just wants the intense pressure, the reality that you’re here with him.

You crash your lips to his desperately. He slants his head and works his tongue along the seam of your mouth, which willingly parts for him, an open moan passing between you both, your tongue inviting him into your mouth, stroking against his. Both of you fiercely hold onto each other, keeping that close chest to chest contact while you kiss more than you breathe. When you ultimately have to break off from each other to get air back in your lungs, the heaving expansion of your ribcages against each other is such a simple but intense intimacy, breaths mingling – another moment that adds to the replenishment for how much his soul had been depleted without you.

“Need you inside me,” you plead.

He nods while turning and tossing you onto the bed.

As he climbs up to join you, you quip, “No more clothes, Alpha.”

“Bossy Omega,” he chuckles, but complies in pushing his boxer briefs down and tossing them away.

You quirk your lips. “Give me what I need, and I won’t need to be so demanding.”

He growls, but it’s teasing, the feeling in his heart is a light one, a feeling he feels echoed in you, lines of it running through the overwhelming need.

Bucky moves up the bed, hooks his fingers beneath the band of your underwear, and you lift your hips so he can remove them immediately. He leans down and presses a broad flat lick of his tongue over your hip bone, causing you to squirm – desire and a sensitive spot of skin he discovered on your years ago. “I know what you need, Omega.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you nod eagerly, and he flips you over onto your stomach

He hears your breath hitch. He knows you love roughness and to be handled as often as you love softness, but the latter isn’t what you need right now. He crawls up over you and plants his left arm up by your shoulder while he slots himself between your legs. Your left hand finds his, twining your fingers together while he lines up his cock with your slick entrance, and the sigh of ecstasy that escapes you as he pushes his length in sings in his ears. The feeling of your warm channel gripping him is better than he remembered – or at least it feels that way – and he tries to push in as slowly as he can to savor coming home to where he belongs inside you, but it’s not nearly as slow as he wants it to be.

Once he’s fully sheathed in you, he kisses your shoulder, then nips along until he’s at the juncture of your neck, and you keen and bare your neck to him. He licks over his bonding mark, then bites down, reclaiming you, and you cry out, body thrumming beneath him. He starts to move behind you, pulling his hips back before thrusting back in. Your right leg hitches back to tangle up and over his, urging him on. He grips your hip, and then he fucks you. It’s the most primal it’s ever felt with you, the force of it rocking the bed to knock against the wall, and he almost worries about whether or not it’s too much, but you rock back against him, meeting his thrusts as much as you can in your prone position, eagerly taking all of him.

“That’s it, darling, take my hard cock inside you,” he urges you both on.

You sob out a breathless, “Yes,” that makes his chest rumble in satisfaction.

He can feel your cunt fluttering around him, can feel you on the edge of ecstasy, but it also feels like you’re refusing to fall over the edge.

“Come on, darling, let go.”

“No.”

That shocks him but doesn’t slow him down.

He maintains his pace and slips his hand down between you and the mattress, cupping your pussy and finding your clit. “Yes.” He starts to rub quick, concentrated circles over your tight bundle of nerves.

You shake your head desperately. “No, I don’t want it to end,” the words tumble out, and he hears the sound of you crying again.

“Omega, I will give you more. I’ll give you as much as you need, but I need you to give in to this, surrender and fall over the edge with me again.”

“Bucky!” you cry out as you’re unreservedly flung over the edge. Your cunt clamping down on him was the last of what he needed to reach his own climax, and so his shout echoes your own, and he exerts those final thrusts to pump his seed deep within you.

He stays sheathed within you but rolls both of you to your sides, brackets his arm around your waist, and keeps you close, nuzzling into your neck. You sink back against him, resting your arm over his and threading your fingers together.

“That was…”

He nudges your chin for you to turn your head back so he can kiss away the tears that escaped during the emotions that came through there at that end.

“Intense?”

“Yes.”

“We both needed it, Omega. I need you as much as you need me. Do not doubt it.” You shiver in his arms, and he swears, “I’ll make sure you never question it again.”

“Never let me go.”

“Never again.”

You shift and turn over to face him. He’s just as content to wrap you in his arms this way. You tangle your legs with his as you have so many times before. This is so familiar.

You brush your fingers over his face, retracing the lines and angles that define him, and he watches your face as your eyes drink in his features.

“I’m yours, Omega,” he says in a quiet, low tone.

A soft smile lifts the curve of your mouth. Your hand cradles his jaw and beckons him in to kiss you, and he is happy to acquiesce. The kisses he shares with you now are slow, solemn promises of lips and tongues, heated but not demanding.

When you eventually come up for air, you tuck yourself more closely into his chest, humming with contentment. He’s half hard again, and the frantic last moments of the sex he shared with you flashes back to the forefront of his mind. “I promised to give you more. What do you need from me? Tell me how I can please you, how I can love you.”

You reach up and press your fingers delicately against his bonding mark. “Just this. Hold me. I only need to be with you.”

He can feel how true it is as your fingers stroke lightly over the place where you claimed him all those years ago, reclaimed him here in this bed, flooding him with more peace. His brushes his lips over your forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

There’s a little chirp that bubbles up out of you when he calls you sweetheart again, and it makes him just as happy as it does you. He slowly caresses your back, hand moving up and down, up and down, in a soothing motion, soothing himself as much as you.

There is still so much ahead for you both, but this – your connection to each other – he can feel that again so strongly. He never doubted it, but after being deprived, the return of how powerful it is engulfs him. This will anchor him through what’s coming.

“Buck?” you murmur against his neck.

“Mmm?”

“I can tell your brain is beginning to work away from here.”

He sighs. “Can you blame me?”

“No, but talk to me, take me with you if you’re going to think.”

“There’s so much to think through.”

“Start with one thing.”

You’ve done this with him before – late nights, afternoons, mornings, on a drive, on a walk, sharing a meal – you could always feel when he started to get tied up in his brain with his thoughts, and you’d listen, ask questions, sift through with him. He was perfectly capable of sorting through things on his own, but sharing with you made it altogether different. It was one of the best parts of having you as his mate.

“Why…?” He frowns and trails off. “No, nevermind.”

“No, Buck. I worked hard to soothe and relax my alpha. I want this gift of respite with you, however brief it is, and whatever string you don’t want to tug on first clearly is one that’s important.”

He nips your shoulder. “My gutsy omega.”

“Alpha,” you press, also literally pressing a finger insistently against his chest.

“Alright…” His tone turns serious. “Why didn’t you try to escape – especially here where he leaves you alone sometimes?” From the way he’d found you, it was clear this wasn’t an anomaly.

You cluck your tongue impatiently and roll your eyes. “First, how was I reasonably supposed to outrun him, hide from him, and try to find you? I don’t have any of the tactical skills or training you two do.”

“Fair enough. And second?” The first point is obvious now that he’s asked it and heard you answer, but he wants to hear the rest of what you have to say.

“Second,” you continue, your tone altering to something more somber, “he took me to lure you to him, so the most logical thing was to stay and wait for you.”

“Ah,” Bucky nods, the smallest of smiles taking over his mouth. “My smart omega.”

“And third,” you continue, though your words tone is cautious now, and you drop your eyes to his chest.

“Yes?” he urges you to finish the thought.

“He’s my alpha, too.”

This isn’t news – he’s known it from the second he witnessed that bite to claim you, he thought of it frequently while he was hunting for you both, he knew it would be the new reality, you’d even discussed the two bonds together in this bed – and yet having to think about it yet again in this light is still straining on him.

Clearly you feel his unrest, because your hands come up to cup his face and basically attempt to soothe him with gentle but insistent strokes along his jaw. “Bucky, I’m always going to be yours.”

He sighs and angles his head down to touch his forehead to yours. “I know.”

And it’s not jealousy that drives his unrest – it’s the not knowing what this means, not right now and not for the future. He’s started thinking about possibilities, but he’s limited until he can confront the other alpha. So, he decides to concentrate on what it has meant so far.

He makes sure his tone is soft but serious when he asks, “Did he hurt you?”

You’re quiet for a beat, then say, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Bucky starts to sit up, but you pull him back down to the mattress, trying earnestly to soothe him. “What he did hurt us both, and it was meant to hurt. It was absolutely calculated. But they broke him, Bucky. They tortured him and tried to make him comply for weeks. They were experimenting on Sam, trying to pull the science they could from old records on you and what they could pull from analyzing Steve’s blood, but they weren’t having success, and so they enacted their last use for Sam – and they killed him in front of Steve. It destroyed him.”

Bucky’s own chest aches as he listens, throbbing painfully at this reveal, and his vibranium hand fists the sheet.

“And when he was at his most devastated and spent emotionally, what I have been able to piece together is that that’s when he couldn’t stand to feel anymore, shut off his emotions – or his humanity more like, and it’s his humanity that made him Steve. That’s when they were able to take over and mold him into the fist they wanted in Captain Hydra.”

Hurt, anger, the horror of his own past life as the Winter Soldier, it’s surging through his veins, but you continue.

“So that night in Wakanda? That was Captain Hydra at his height of cruelty. I haven’t seen that iteration of him since that night. It’s been slow, but he’s different now. He’s not our Steve, but he’s not Captain Hydra.”

It’s a few moments before he registers that you’re done – at least with that piece of sharing.

He cups your jaw and looks into your eyes. “Do you trust him?”

He sees you clearly put thought into your words before answering, worrying your bottom lip. “The heat he and I shared was intense in every way. It changed things fundamentally between us, but since the heat our connection has still been very tenuous. We’ve both been very guarded with each other. I know he’ll keep me safe, but I’m still wary of him.”

He nods.

“Where is he right now?”

A wry laugh tumbles out of your chest. “I don’t even know where we are right now, Bucky. I know we got off a train in Bordeaux, but then he moved us here while I was in one of my heavy end of heat sleeps. From the food, books, and supplies he’s brought for us, I know we’re in France, but that’s it. There’s not a lick of technology kept in here while I’m alone. We don’t even a radio.”

Bucky grunts at this news. He doesn’t like this, but other than being kept here cut off from the rest of the world and having claimed you and separated you in the first place, it seems you’ve been appropriately cared for.

“Wait, no radio?” He growls. Bucky had looked away to consider the new information, but his eyes snap to you again. “Have you had any music?”

“No,” you groan, and he can feel the pained irritation.

“That won’t do.”

He quickly rolls off the bed to a small whine of protest from you, but it was so rare that he’d ever been in a space with you and there hadn’t been music playing – loud for you to sing, or low in the background keeping you company – and this is something he can fix easily.

He fishes the small communications device he had put together out of the pocket of his discarded pants, then comes back to sit on the foot of the bed and begins typing away. You’re quick to crawl up behind him, and you wrap your arms around his chest and settle your chin on his shoulder while he works. You don’t see the smile that breaks across his face as he feels your excited impatience radiate off you, having figured out what he’s doing. It’s so palpable he wouldn’t have needed your emotional bond as alpha and omega to sense it.

Once he’s modified his device to play music, it doesn’t take him much longer to hack into your music account. He pulls up the list of your most-played songs, picks one that he thinks will be perfect for this moment, and hits play.

You croon with joy and then fall back on the bed, arms spread out in pure rapture. He beams and then crawls up next to you, handing you the device. You hold it close to your chest with one hand and pull him in for a kiss with the other.

You break off the kiss so you can sing along to the chorus, and he laughs. He knows exactly the last time he felt this happy: the last day by the river with you in Wakanda. When the chorus is over, you actually kick your feet in delight, grinning at him. You kiss his nose, scoot your body as close to him as possible, then settle back into the mattress and pull his arm to rest over your stomach.

The two of you talk, sing, and continue to hold each other for a while. A string of two or three softer songs play, and you and up drifting into sleep, late afternoon sun pouring over both of you, its warmth too much for you to ignore after the physically and emotionally exhausting afternoon. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, his hand over your heart, no thought for time. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. How did he survive without you for all those weeks?

A flare of light across the room pulls his focus though. It’s a repetitive flashing coming through the window to the wall.

Morse code. His blissful mood evaporates.

C-O-M-E O-U-T-S-I-D-E

The other alpha is out there, summoning him.

He identifies which window the light is being directed into, then pads over, and releases the drape to cover the window, pulls it back, covers it again, and then secures it back in its open state. The other alpha will know he’s received the message.

Bucky has referred to him as the other alpha for so long now, but he’s ultimately about to discover who this man is. You say he’s no longer The Captain Hydra that he was, but not yet his Steve either.

He doesn’t hurry getting dressed. The other alpha isn’t going anywhere. He’s waited this long. He can continue to wait.

Bucky takes a long look at you from across the room before he leaves.

He’s relatively sure he will come back to you. There’s only one outcome that will keep him away, and now that he knows the potential danger, he won’t let this man ambush him ever again.

Bucky stalks as carefully to the tree line where the signal had come from as he had when he’d first approached the little house. He can smell the other alpha on the breeze that rustles through the trees. He tracks him in a kilometer or so – not in the direction Bucky had left his vehicle, but that works fine for him because if he needs to cut and run, he’ll be able to get to you in the house and then continue on to get to the getaway without having to double back and without the other alpha being able to cut off the route.

Bucky will think through every possible scenario as each moment of this unfolds.

His brain got him here.

His brain can get him out.

He will keep you safe.

The scent he’s known nearly his whole life grows stronger, and when he reaches a small pocket of the forest devoid of trees – not quite large enough to be called a clearing – instead of slipping silently out of the shadows, the other alpha steps out unabashedly to meet him.

“What took you so long, Buck?” he has the gall to ask, his voice barely covering notes of anger.

Bucky roars and hurls himself at the man standing before him, taking him to the ground easily, and they scramble against each other. They’re so closely matched in skill, prowess, and power, and the energy they’re both exuding is raw, primal, and angry. Bucky is incredulous that the other man is angry with him.

His own rage lands him a punch. He takes a blow to the ribs, and the other alpha gets a hand on the collar of his shirt, resulting in a tear, but it allows Bucky to grab his wrist, twist him around harshly, and pin the arm behind his back as he decisively thumps him into the ground, pinning him there.

The man beneath him only makes two attempts to struggle and shift out from under his hold, but then he sighs and sags into the tall grass they’ve been tussling in.

Is he feinting?

Bucky honestly doesn’t know.

“Who am I talking to?” he asks – the same line of inquiry Steve used on him in an abandoned warehouse outside of Berlin.

He knows it, letting out a guffaw beneath him. “I’m not him anymore.”

“Not who?”

“I’m no longer their Captain Hydra,” he pauses before adding, “but I’m not the kid from Brooklyn either.”

Bucky knows they’re not going to stay like this forever, and he needs to see this man’s face and look into his eyes if he’s going to be able to sort out any of this, so as swiftly as he can, he releases the alpha, pushes himself up, and takes a wary stance a few meters away.

Steve remains on the ground, but rolls over and sits up, planting his feet on the ground, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. It’s almost a casual.

Bucky will have the advantage of already being up on his feet if the man before him tries anything.

Bucky needs to know how to read whoever this is, so he decides to go with a different line of questioning – things that are more cut and dry.

“When you left the base in Geneva, there were two Hydra security with you. You stopped over a bridge two hours into your journey, and they weren’t with you when you switched vehicles in Albstadt. Who were they, and why the elaborate ruse only to drop them in a river so quickly?”

Rather than being surprised, it seemed he was satisfied that Bucky knew this much about what had played out. “Alright, we can start there. Leaving under the initial guise of a mission on security footage was supposed to be helpful when they started looking for me.”

“And why move the records of their transfer files to other facilities with two others?”

“I’m glad you picked up on that, too. Buying more time for some missing personnel before it was suspect and they figured out they really didn’t know where they were.”

“And why them?”

“Arbitrary.”

“Bullshit. You’ve gone on solo missions as Captain Hydra and you didn’t buy enough extra time by leaving with a two-man team to make it worth the set up only to drop them in the river without a reason.”

Steve’s brows knit together, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “One was arbitrary. He just happened to be the roommate of my target. The one I was after? He was part of the extraction team who took our omega out of Turin. Specifically, he’s the one who handled her so roughly she had bruises from his casual brute strength. I watched the footage to figure out who hurt her.”

Bucky cocked his head and studied the man before him.

“I had only been an alpha to her for a month and I was willing to kill someone who harmed her. What are you going to do to me, Buck?”

Bucky turned and paced way, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to show this much unrest in front of the other alpha, but he was thinking and feeling so much, trying to read and decipher too many pieces.

He lets out a long exhale and just speaks the truth. He can’t try and take any other angle. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Before all of this, if there had ever been a situation in which Bucky would have needed to trust someone else to keep you safe, Steve would have been his immediate answer.

Steve waits silently.

There are so many questions he wants answers to, and so he starts asking them. The answers don’t shock him, and he can see that even when Steve doesn’t tell him the full truth, it’s a cautious guarding of information, but he detects no lies in any of it. That Steve has some guards up also seems tenuous, possibly temporary, like if he can only ask the right question, the tide will turn.

But it couldn’t be that simple with Steve, could it?

And when did he start to think of him as Steve again?

Bucky deals out one of the questions he’s had the longest, since the very beginning of this. “What you said that night in Wakanda – you did all of this to draw me out. Why?”

Steve lets it hang in the air for a moment, but Bucky can see this is a crux for this conversation with him, too.

“I can’t explain everything that went into that plan – I don’t know if the machine of Captain Hydra was fully in control or if part of the old me was trying to grasp at you as a lifeline, but as the weeks wore on, the strategist in me knew he needed either the Soldat to join him or his best friend to save him.”

Those words sink into Bucky, and he can understand that explanation as no one else in this world can.

“What took you so long?” Steve asks again, but this time it’s tinged only with angst, not anger.

The accusation in it unsettles Bucky.

He’s still not sure how to address the question, but he starts with, “The Soldat is gone. The Winter Soldier? Not who I needed to be to get here either.”

Steve pushes up from the ground but maintains the distance Bucky put between them. “Who are you now then?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Depends on who’s standing in front of me.”

Steve looks off into the trees for a moment – in the direction of the cottage.

Bucky’s instincts have failed him less than a handful of times.

They’re telling him now that’s where to start, even though he’s not sure exactly where it will end. “I’ve seen a lot of versions of you – my childhood best friend, the punk who couldn’t stay out of trouble, the stars and stripes symbol, Captain America, the target who wouldn’t let me assassinate him and then refused to finish me off in the hellicarrier, the Cap who went against the Accords, Nomad in exile – but always Steve. You’ll never be who you were before – I never was. Doesn’t mean you’re irredeemable.”

Steve scoffs. “It’s not that easy.”

Bucky gives a wry laugh and shakes his head. “I more than know that. But you’re shades of all those men right now in front of me. She sees it, too.”

“God, she…” Steve shakes his head, puts one hand on his hip, and scrubs over his face with the other.

“If you can be you, if you can be Steve, she will have you.” He’s not sure where the words came from, but he himself believes them as he says them.

“I don’t know if I can be.”

“Do you want to be?”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately. Bucky can see him sincerely work over the question in his mind. It’s a simple inquiry, but one that will define everything, and Bucky knows he will be completely behind whatever answer he gives because that is the core of who this man is and always has been – fully committed to his convictions.

When Steve says, “Yes,” Bucky can hear the heaviness in his voice. Bucky nods.

“What about you?” Steve asks.

Bucky shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he digs back into himself and where his head, his heart, and his gut now sit with all of this. But the answer is clear enough. “Till the end of the line,” he answers.

“Even after I–“

“Stop,” Bucky cuts him off. “I’ve had little more to think about over the last six weeks than us – all of us. And it felt like my heart started beating again when I found her, but you… Before this I never fully understood why you fought so hard to get through to me when I was trying to kill you in DC all those years ago, why you searched for me for years, why you were a goddamn pain in the ass who wouldn’t abandon me in Berlin and believed in me without question, but now I get it. We are in each other’s bones.”

He doesn’t move, but Bucky sees the look change in Steve’s eyes, and he can practically feel the air alter between them. They’ve always had an acute awareness of each other, and Bucky can feel the tentative return of it, like déjà vu even though he’s still figuring out who this Steve is or who he will be.

“When did you start giving Captain America speeches?” Steve finally asks.

Bucky shrugs. “One of us had to do it.”

“What now then?”

Bucky has sketched out many scenarios for how things play out from here, but every stage of this, every new revelation shifts the direction they’re heading. Even in the last two minutes things have significantly shifted again.

Bucky licks his lips and stares at Steve for another beat before he decides to head down a path he hopes is the right one. “You’re always a man with a plan, so you tell me. Tell me where this started, when it changed, where you think it ends. I figured out a lot, I have theories, and I still have questions.”

“We went to Italy to investigate a lead that came up on our radar. We thought it was an innocuous enough whisper about a couple of Hydra scientists. And don’t,“ Steve pauses to pointedly look at him because Bucky was already opening his mouth to argue. “I already know you’re going to say we should have involved you, I thought of it every day they were holding us captive. I thought it the second I heard their boots. It was a week after you left for Wakanda, and Sam–“

He pauses again, and his shoulders fall just a fraction.

“Sam and I weren’t gonna bother you.”

“She told me about Sam,” Bucky says.

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips together. “I told her enough about what happened, but I didn’t tell her everything.” He opens his eyes and meets Bucky’s again. His face is truly haunted, and Bucky nods, his own chest tight. He knows more than enough about that. He had still had to face the demons of his past, but when he was ready, and he had fought to find his way to do that. Steve would find a way, but it would take time, and not likely be the same journey.

“After they killed Sam, they got a raw version of me, shut down, and they went to work conditioning me, shaping me into Captain Hydra. I was too lost to fight anything. I couldn’t save him. I failed us. I didn’t want to be me. It was easy too easy for them to get the version of me they wanted when I was like that.”

There’s a full shift in how Steve lays everything out – and as he shares, Bucky knows it’s still not everything, but he can feel that it’s everything Steve can bear to tell him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve tilts his head and looks off into the forest. “It was and it wasn’t. It will always haunt me.”

“It will, but less and less.”

Bucky walks to the edge of the small clearing and sits on a fallen log. Steve follows him.

“When I was trying to find you after DC and taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. I read everything they had on record about you, how they conditioned you. They used some but not all the same methods on me.”

“I couldn’t find anything on you, and I found more than enough other hidden monstrosities in their networks these past weeks.”

“I think they got smarter after we were hunting them after exposing them – they couldn’t keep everything off the databases, but they have projects now that they keep paper-only, small teams. There was the team that captured us, but after they put us in a holding cell, we were transferred. From that point through the torture, the breaking point, and the conditioning I only saw four faces – three scientists and one officer who became my liaison. When they sent or let me out into the field, I never went with a team of more than four of their men, always the same four. Two of them I ended at that bridge.”

Bucky nods.

Already his mind is calculating – this means they could potentially contain and eliminate all of the people who knew any specifics about Captain Hydra.

“One of the scientists was killed when you stormed the facility in Turin.”

Bucky raises his brows. Even better.

Steve goes on to tell him about how he was sent on a few missions to test his loyalty before he was given the task to bring back the Soldat.

“I didn’t have a chair, and they were very adamant that my point person was my liaison and not a handler, they gave me a fair amount of autonomy. They didn’t want me to drag you in. They wanted you to join me. I think they felt like an asset who had to be controlled could break free as they saw with you the first time around, and this time they wanted operatives who weren’t giving controlled compliance, but allegiance instead.”

Bucky grunted. “A tether rather than a leash.”

“Yeah.”

“But you knew who I was tethered to.”

Steve’s head drops. “Yeah.”

“And you knew I’d be the most vulnerable and off my guard in Wakanda.”

“I did.”

Bucky lets him sit with that discomfort.

Bucky has replayed that night in his mind so many times.

“But your plan changed that night. I didn’t register it in the moment, but everything about you changed the moment you bit into her neck to claim her.”

Steve doesn’t deny it.

“Before you sunk your teeth into her, you were taunting me, dangling her like something to be smashed and discarded, you didn’t even know if it would work, and I think part of you thought it might even kill her.”

Bucky sees Steve’s jaw tick.

“You were in no way prepared for how a bond would change you fundamentally as an alpha.”

“Obviously it didn’t flip a switch immediately, but yes, it altered what I intended to do,” Steve admits.

He goes on to explain some of the things that happened in Turin – missions he went on, how things had developed with you, the clothes, and the books.

“The books were for her?” Bucky breathes. “I saw security footage of you in the bookshop.”

“I wasn’t worried about exposing myself because you were already taking longer than I wanted you to take, but when you didn’t access any of the Avenger networks, bases, or safehouses, I expected you were underground and untraceably hunting for us.”

“What else did you expect?”

“I wanted you to get foolish in your desperation and tip your hand.”

“Not with her on the line.”

“No.” Steve narrows his eyes. “You never left Turin once you showed up on our radar, did you?”

Bucky scoffs. “Course I didn’t.”

Steve nods. “A ploy to see all the defenses of the base.”

“But you left dangerously close to her heat,” Bucky shoots, the disapproving accusation blatant in his tone.

“And that’s when you made your unsuccessful move to get her back. If you’d killed everyone you’d encountered from the beginning, you probably would have made it to her in time.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I know you do.” Steve sighs. “You know, back in 1945, I thought you were dead when you fell off that train.”

Bucky doesn’t interrupt. He knew Steve knew he knew this. They’d touched on it before. But clearly there was more and a reason for Steve to bring it up again now.

“The thing is, when they found you, I know Zola did what he did to you because of me, your tie to me. When they took me and Sam, they tortured him and killed him because of me, again. You were both people I cared about, and you were hurt for it. I was not going to let it happen to her. The sense of responsibility I felt for her had already been growing and evolving, but when I felt that surge of adrenaline and fear through the bond when you attacked the base and they moved her? It had been a slow melting of ice, what was developing there, but that shattered the ice. When I found out they had moved her, I kept my personal weakness guarded, and I knew I would do everything I could to get her out of their web and keep her safe.”

At this admission, Bucky is quiet. So is Steve. Bucky knows Steve is letting him think. There’s so much to consider there – the guilt Steve has still carried for him for years, the fresh hell of Sam, and the fervent determination to keep you from being another victim by association.

He could think over this for much longer, but there are more pieces he still needs context for, so next Bucky asks, “Why did you leave the Geneva facility during her heat?”

“Best cover for time – alphas are given room to take care of their needs during rut or care for omegas if they’re bonded during their omega’s heat.”

It verifies what Bucky had theorized himself.

“But it’s been eight days since you came here.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“And you’ve just…been here.”

“Yeah.”

This is the piece Bucky has been suspicious of now.

“Explain.”

“When I took her to Turin, yes, it was a trap to lure you. When I brought her here, it was to wait for you to find us. I couldn’t find you when you went underground before, and I couldn’t find you this time, and if I tried too hard, I didn’t want to risk Hydra finding us, but I knew if we stayd in one place and I focused on keeping us hidden from Hydra, you could find us.”

Bucky furrows his brow, frowning.

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that,” Steve confirms.

Bucky studies him for another quiet few seconds, then says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, what now?”

“Her,” Bucky replies simply. “We’ve still got a lot of shit to figure out, but we’ve got to do it with her.”

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

Still with me? This was a lot. I hope I've answered some of your questions, and there are some more that have been brought up, but... we're here. We're this far.

This is the single longest story/chapter I've ever published. You can see where I've left off, and there's clearly more story, but Bucky reuniting with his omega and with Steve were the primary objectives, and both of those elements I didn't want to cheat or shorten as they began to unfold. I hope they've truly done justice to these characters and relationships, and we'll see how they can possibly move forward together in the conclusion. These three still have big things ahead.

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #bucky barnes fan fiction #captain hydra #aspen wrote something #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #warm shadows au #aspen's dark forest fest

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shamrockqueen · 1 month

Text

Naughty excerpt

Pairing : Bucky X Reader PWP

Warnings : R18, Smut, immediate Smut, painful teasing, short work

Word count : 723

- It was something quick I made today inspired by this post by @buckybarnesbestdoll

His hips rocked up, shucking his cock through your weak core, tearing through you to slam at the back of your cunt. It made you shake in his arms as they snaked over your body. You try to hold his gaze, only to catch it lingering between your legs, drinking in the sight of his member sinking into your wet folds. He dragged himself back out as he lifted your hips, all before meeting them again with a shallow thrust of his own.

The fingers on his cold hand dug into your skin, the metal plates of his wide palm pinching around your weak little throat. He kept your gaze locked on his dark reflection in the mirror ahead of you. His dangerous blue eyes stared back, making the blood freeze in your body like cracked ice against your skin.

The warm fingers of his other hand drew heat from your lower body as he dug at your throbbing bud. He had you squirming in his cock, deeply seated in your tight, warm channel. Your inner walls still stung from his initial intrusion, leaving you weak and horribly sensitive.

His voice dragged along your ear, pricking your ears along with the rough texture of his beard.

“You see what I see, doll?”

You winced as his thumb pressed harder on your aching pearl before backing over it. He didn’t wait for an answer, tightening his metal fingers around that delicate windpipe as he spoke again.

“My greedy…”

He pressed these fingers back down, delighting in the sight of your legs twitching, but even more so in the tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to match his gaze through the mirror.

“…needy..”

He kept grinding that deep and heavy voice along your ear as he rolled his hips from below. Your thighs pulled further apart, and you had to try and grit your teeth to keep from breaking apart in his tight embrace.

“..DESPERATE SLUT.”

You couldn’t take it. You cried out as loudly as his grip had allowed, shutting your eyes as a wave of hard pleasure wracked your little body. He could feel that you’d pull apart at any second, but not the way he wanted you to.

Those fingers left your neck for a second to lock around your jaw, jerking your face back in view of the mirror. It forces your eyes back open in shock, and with air rushing back into your lungs, you take in the full picture of what was reflected back at you.

Your hip joints were pulled so that he could spread your legs for the mirror—a little show of his own making. It painted a painful picture across the glass, beautiful and tear-stained.

He yelled at you this time, righting his arms around your body before standing with you solely in his hold. Your feet dangled over the floor, leaving your body bent as his hands and cock tore through your flower and bud. He lifted your back up to the mirror, where his eyes could lock with yours.

“Keep those eyes on me when I make you cum.”

You can barely muster any words before he hammers himself through your quacking inner walls. His strong legs could be seen flexing in his reflection as they held you both upright. You could only lock your fingers around his solid arms as he voiced you on his thick cock, breaking that tightly wound knot still wound around your belly until it finally snapped as the rough drag of his calloused fingers.

His eyes never left yours, even as they blurred with hot tears before clearing back over as they spilled down your cheeks. You watched, mind nearly melted, as his cock pistoned through your open core. You feel the warm brush of his ragged breath fanning across your wet chin, all as you watch his face pinch and his teeth grind together.

His cock seized, the slam of his hips stuttering as he spilled into you. You were momentarily readjusted in his arms as he held himself inside you.

He released his hold on your throat, choosing instead to carefully guide his metal fingers along your body before circling over your waist to better hold you up. Your feet still never reached the ground, but you wouldn’t have been able to stand anyway.

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anchoeritic · 2 years

Text

「 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: stepdad!sam x fem!reader x stepdad’sbestfriend!bucky

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ only // minors dni // nsfw content, dark!fic, cnc kink (dubcon/non-con), step-cest, angry/possessive sam eek(he has reasoning shhh), daddy kink, spit kink, overstimulation, ddlg dynamics, slight bondage, oral (male receiving), deepthroating, choking kink, face slapping, manipulation, degradation kink, anal & vaginal fingering, ass play, dacryphilia(crying kink), hair pulling kink, the pet name ‘peach’, voyeurism kink, them basically fighting over you, squirting. if you are upset/easily triggered by any of these warnings, go ahead and click off.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "your body is mine to use, mine to control," pressing a soft kiss to your wet cheek "mine to share."

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a repost of one of my older dark fanfics, but do feel free to send in new ideas for future fics! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated, thank you. <3

a breathy chuckle left from his lips as his gaze moved back to your trembling body. your legs were still shaking from the previous orgasm, wrists all scratched up from the many harsh attempts at trying to escape from him.

the light in your eyes no longer showing, replaced with the shade of lust; dark red. your pupils were wider than usual, it was like you were under some spell. his spell.

"little girl, you knew the consequences," placing a finger under your chin "yet you still tried to fuckin' play with me." he ended the sentence off angrily, jerking your face the other way.

you broke his rules again. it wasn't entirely your fault. you couldn't help but feel something whenever your stepfather's friend came by.

he was tall, had broad shoulders, patchy face with the littlest bit of fuzz around his rosy lips. the most intimidating eyes; if he looked long enough, you swore it would pierce through you.

his presence was enough to send chills down your spine. every time his truck drove up to your driveway, your thighs would rub together, the place between your legs starting to ache out of desperation. neediness.

it was wrong to feel something towards your stepfather's best friend. your daddy's pal from work. to imagine his face between your thighs, to wonder how your fingers would feel tangled up in his hair.

to feel your pussy throb whenever he called you 'sweetheart', imagining him balls deep inside your cunt, thrusting into you at an intimate pace.

to hear his praises, to listen to him call you his good girl after you creamed all over his cock.

to taste him.

if it was so wrong, then why did it feel so good?

"you can never keep your legs shut, can you?" he growled, laying a light smack against your cheek. "thought you were daddy's girl," cupping your jaw roughly, bringing your face right in front of his "seems like you're not daddy's at all after all, huh?"

"just a little slut who can't follow rules." you whimpered, starting to tear up at the increase in volume in his voice.

you had him angry. you got him furious this time.

"i-i'm sorry, daddy!" you babbled out. "didn't mean to, didn't mean to!"

he laughed, tilting his head back a little as an evil grin spread across his lips. it wasn't usual that you were a brat, especially towards your daddy. and he knew that, he knew his little girl. but today, you were in for a ride.

the grip on your jaw tightened. "didn't mean to? is that your excuse?" his foot tapped your pussy slowly, making your legs open up. a quiet cry fell from your throat as the tip of his leather shoe went on to assault your overstimulated clit.

"you think you can trick me, little girl?" he tested you, chuckling at the thought of you trying to lie to him.

you shook your head quickly in response, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill out at any given moment. "never-- never, daddy!"

sam smiled darkly, pulling your face impossibly closer, his warm breath fanning over your face.

"listen here, girl--" you whined, trying to get out of his grip. "stop fucking moving!" he spat. the hand around your jaw was no longer there, but slid down to your throat, choking you aggressively.

"you fucking listen to me right now, i'm not going along with your stupid attitude anymore." sam mumbled through his clenched teeth. "i make the rules here, i rule over you," practically spitting on you now "you are my puppet. you are for my use. you go under my rules, girl."

his foot tapped your bare cunt again, causing your body to jolt up out of sensitivity. "understand?"

you nodded your head, obeying him. "just daddy's silly little puppet." you repeated, blinking.

your glassy eyes broke into shards, the hot tears falling down the palettes of your cheeks. his puppet. he hummed in response, confirming.

"your body is mine to use, mine to control," pressing a soft kiss to your wet cheek "mine to share."

share? you thought, confused. not once had he brought up the conversation of another person in your relationship. the thought of someone else fucking your his pussy always got him worked up and angry. so what was he talking about?

who was he talking about?

the door swung open, a tall figure coming into your view. broad shoulders, tall, leather gloves, strong jaw structure.

"hello again, peach" the voice called out, walking closer towards you two. "don't tell me you already forgot about me."

it was your stepfather's best friend; bucky barnes.

bucky laughed in amusement, the sight of you all teary-eyed making him pity you. "had you crying for more a few days ago, peach"

"i'm sure you remember."

sam cackled, removing his hand from your throat, letting you fall forward. “oh, i’m sure she does” licking his lips “don’t you, peach?” he mocked, shaking his head at you.

“i-i—“ you stuttered, looking up at bucky with widened eyes.

“shall we take a trip down memory lane, sweetness?” bucky offered, swiping his thumb over your cupid’s bow gently. you hummed, biting the insides of your cheeks. “hm, good.”

his thumb fell down to the slit of your lips, the tip of the finger sliding between the pair. he leaned down beside you, lips beside your ear. “show him how you scream for me, peach”

“i know you want me. you crave me. show him how much you need me.”

a bright smile spread across your lips as you heard his words fall from within. you sure did want him, and you definitely craved him. but how much were you willing to risk for your stepdad’s work pal?

the zipper on his pants flew down in an instant, bucky being too impatient to wait for your confirmation. he wanted to be inside you already. whether it was down your throat or sunk in your tight cunt; he was just as desperate as you were for him.

your touch was different. you were on the gentler side, soft side really. you weren’t like the other older girls he usually slept around with. you were warm, you had something within you that made him want more. was it the risk? the thrill?

both? one may never know.

pumping himself in front of you, he moaned at the sight of you on your knees for him. it was a scene he couldn’t take off his mind. it was forever engraved inside his little box of thoughts. dirty thoughts.

bucky was fucking his best friend’s stepdaughter. how much more dirty can this be? your hands were tied up behind your back, you had tears streaming down your face, he walked in on you getting put in place by sam, how much dirtier can this be?

“open up, darlin’,” he instructed, tapping his tip against the heart of your lips. “promise it’ll fit, don’t you worry, peach.”

“mmm..” you opened your mouth, letting his cock fill your throat entirely.

bucky groaned, throwing his head back. “see, you’re doing so good” rocking his hips to meet your bobs “just like how i remember; so damn perfect.”

your pussy throbbed at the praise, he knew what his words did to you, what the pet name did. your panties dampened, the wetness between your legs increasing.

he placed his hands on the top of your head, pushing you down. your eyes stinging with tears as you took him deeper down your throat, the bulge of his cock starting to show. saliva dripped from the sides of your mouth, spilling everywhere on the floor.

“peach, you really are my cockslut, aren’t you? you love taking my cock down your throat, don’t you?”

sam scoffed from behind, looking away from the two of you. jealous? yes. but who’s fault was that? he was willing to share you and your body, he’s the only one to blame. guess "mine to share." wasn’t an honest statement after all, huh?

“fuck, i’m about to cum.” you began to bob your head faster, trying to quicken up his climax, only for him to pull his hips away from you.

the fingers that were tangled in your hair pulled you backwards unexpectedly, causing you to start coughing from the sudden wind of air shooting throughout your air ways.

“as much as i’d love to cum in your mouth,” cupping your cheeks “i’d rather cum in that pretty pussy of yours, peach.”

bucky smirked, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. “gotta get you ready for me first, okay, peach?”

you giggled, kissing him back. “mhm..”

he laid you on your back softly, spreading your legs open with his palms. sam walked closer to you, crouching down beside your sprawled out body.

sam started “isn’t it odd that you call her peach yet love to play with her pussy, barnes” slapping the inside of your thigh.

“shut it, sam.” he grumbled, swatting his hand away from you.

sam raised his eyebrow, placing his hand back on your thigh. “remember who’s she is, buck.”

he ignored him, running his metal hand down your sex. his fingers gathered all the wetness around your cunt, using it as easier access to your holes. bucky’s finger circled around your clit in figure 8’s, smiling evilly as he felt your body spasm.

your chest heaved up and down heavily, flashes of red coming into your view. “b-bucky, fuck, bucky…” you cried, hoisting your hips up.

he dipping his cold fingers into you, sinking them deep between your velvet walls. he pumped his fingers into you at a pleasurable pace, keeping the rhythm slow and deep.

“cry for me, peach. fuckin’ sob for me.” he whispered, curling his fingers inside of you, making your orgasm impossible to avoid.

he was really stretching you out this time. preparing you, as he calls it. making sure you’re tight enough, ready enough for him.

“‘m gonna cum, i-i’m gonna cum!” you chanted, rolling your eyes back.

“cum for me. cum all over my fingers.”

your orgasm goes by quicker than expected, the curl of his fingers tipping you over the edge. a wave of pleasure ran over you, sending violent chills all throughout your body.

a broken cry escaped from your lips, your eyes seeing starry skies. blanks of white and black, tiny sparkles taking over your sight.

he watched in satisfaction as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. your thighs trembled, attempting to close shut on his arm. fuck, you were a work of art.

the face of an innocent angel, body of the dirtiest sinner, you were practically made to take him. to take both of them. your beautiful lips wrapping around his cock perfectly, the pretty sound of your moans were like music to his ears.

the soft jiggle of your breasts when he would thrust his fingers into you, the way your lips parted when you were about to cum.

they were obsessed with you.

sam snickered, running his hand down your thigh, pushing them apart. “nuh-uh - we’re not done, little one.” smirking.

“open up again, baby.”

you obeyed, spreading your trembling legs apart slowly. if it wasn’t for the support of bucky’s hand on your ankle guiding you, your leg would’ve been down on the ground already.

“she has such a tight pussy, doesn’t she?” sam asked bucky, pressing a kiss to your knee.

bucky nodded, discreetly licking his lips. “the tightest.” making your cheeks heat up.

sam’s hand slid down the inside of your thigh, his fingers brushing over your used cunt. “tightest pussy, hm?”

“let’s see how tight that fuckin’ ass is then.”

your eyes widened, “but daddy, i can’t—“ his other hand came at your throat for the second time, rougher than it was before. squeezing the sides of your neck, he had you looking back up at him with glossy eyes.

“you can, and you will.” he growled. “remember who fucking owns this body, little one.”

gulping, you nodded your head once again, convincing him to drop his hand from your neck. “s-sorry, daddy.”

his fingers circled over your second - most forbidden hole yet, using your previous orgasm as lube, and spreading it around.

with a quivering lip, you moved your gaze back onto bucky, looking at him with scared eyes. he grinned softly back at you, placing his hand on your cheek, starting to caress it.

he was trying to comfort you. “shh… you’re going to love it, peach. i promise.” you understood, blinking your eyes. “you promise, buck?” whispering; voice coming out a little exhausted

“i promise, my peach.” his thumb smoothed over the top of your cheek sweetly.

it was now sam’s turn to pull down his zipper.his dress pants fell down to his ankles as he loosened the belt that held it together, pulling the end of the leather out from the metal loop. he folded his belt, holding onto it with one hand.

"peach, peach, peach, huh?" sam mocked again out of jealousy, shaking his head. "keep that shit to yourself, barnes. you're nothing compared to me."

his finger sunk into your tightest hole, stretching you out in the slowest way possible. the feeling was foreign to you, you had never experienced anything like this. getting fucked in the ass was always a dream of yours, but you were never brave enough to ask, let alone, try it at all.

he wiggled the tip of his finger, moving it in and out. "daddy," you gasped, raising your head up high to try to see the way his digit disappeared into your ass. "i-it feels so good..."

sam raised an eyebrow "who's making you feel this good, baby?"

"you, daddy." you breathlessly confessed.

bucky clenched his jaw, kissing his teeth. "don't you get it, barnes? i'm the one she runs back to every night." anger rose in both the men; the pace of sam's fingering starting to quicken up, bucky tightening his fist.

"you know the way to her heart, but you'll never know the way to her limit like i do."

"you got her to break my rules, but you'll never get her to obey you like she does with me. i started with her," your cries getting louder, the pain of the stretch turning into pure pleasure "and i will fuckin' end with her."

"shut the fuck up, sam." bucky snarled back, slipping his hand down to your pussy. the pad of his finger came in contact with the sensitive nub of your clit, brushing over it gently.

your body shook, legs trembling; struggling to stay up any longer. "i can't- too much!"

"or what?" sam challenged bucky, scoffing "she's my little girl."

bucky pinched your clit, "your little girl? you can barely keep your "little girl" under control around me" causing you to squeal "she can't help but always spread her damn legs, wilson."

another orgasm was building up inside you, your stomach bubbling. the pleasure was so hard to try to ignore. bucky playing with your clit, sam fucking you in your ass; it felt too good, you couldn't hold it any longer.

"daddy- bucky!" you called out, trying to shut your legs together, only for them to each push a thigh down with their free hands, pinning your knees beside your head.

"when did i say you can fuckin' talk, little one?" sam shot at you "the adults are talking, peach." bucky quickly backed him up.

"b-but--"

"no but's. stay quiet." sam ordered, bucky smacking your cunt lightly causing your body to jolt.

the more he threw you around, the more they used you, the more you felt. the pain, the pleasure, the thrill, the bliss. you felt it all, it had your insides churning.

you were just a silly little puppet. their toy. they were fighting over you. your body. like you were the last one on the shelf.

letting out a loud wail, another orgasm crashed on you; the most powerful one yet. you were shaking violently, your thighs vibrating. you swore you felt your soul getting ripped right out of you.

"no more, no more!" sam and bucky's attention got back on you, the sight in front of them causing their pants to grow tighter, their cocks stirring in desperation.

you were cumming hard. squirting. you had tears streaming down your cheeks, fluid squirting from your pussy. you were a sight for sore eyes.

"daddy!" you whined once more, arching your back off the floor. "good, too good!"

bucky licked his lips, swatting your clit faster. he knew what he was doing to you. you knew what he was doing to you. he wanted more.

sam's eyes darkened, a smile spreading on his lips in amazement.

"c'mon, peach, i know you got a little more in you."

your eyes stung, "no, no!" only making him go faster. "one more for us, baby." sam spoke.

"i know you can do it, my sweet girl."

a broken sob fell from your lips, the last one of the night(or so you thought). you were cumming hard again, the immense amount of pleasure not being able to stop your body, only encouraging it to go harder.

you were out of breath, numb. you couldn't feel your throat anymore; your screams ruining your vocal cords. your thighs wouldn't stop shaking, it was like the pleasure wouldn't stop. it was like torture in the most pleasing way.

"there ya go, peach. so good for me." bucky praised.

you were all over their clothes, your fluids coating the entirety of bucky and sam's hand. "p-please no more." you hiccuped.

the two men sent each other a side-eye, the evil spark in their eyes causing them both to smirk down at you.

"who said we were done with you?"

"i-i just-" you started, interrupted by sam. "i make the rules here, sweetheart. don't get it twisted."

"my body, my pussy," he leaned down, coming face to face with you.

"my puppet to use."

#bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #sam wilson smut #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #dark fiction #dark fic #dark!sam #dark!bucky x reader #stepdad!sam #dbf!bucky

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p3sephone · 2 years

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No way out. (Dark! Steve Rogers)

Summary: you are a worker in the Stark Tower, only aiming to grow your career and keep your life simple. Actually, you were the kind of person who admired the avengers but from afar but Steve Rogers didn’t have the same plan once he started talking with you.

Serie warnings: this is a serie so there are going to be many specific warnings that will be given throught all the chapters. This is a dark! Steve Rogers x reader, dark! Bucky Barnes x reader serie. This serie is DARK, so expect heavy themes such as non-con, unwanted touches and all that. If you do not feel comfortable with this or if you’re a minor, do not read and block this account.

Chapter 1 warnings: feeling uncomfortable.

Word count: 1,5k.

Note: this is my first serie ever and it was inspired by this one shot here. Reblogs, comments and likes are always welcome and well appreciated! <3

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

You were nervous, looking at the building in front of you. You could hear the voice inside your head grin and tell you that you would never make it. You weren't able to hold a person's attention for more than 5 seconds, imagine doing a work of this caliber. You were a professional looking for a job and you expected a somewhat mediocre or at least moderate job. You didn't expect your candidacy sent to Stark Tower to be seriously accepted. The salary was just perfect, more than adequate for you living alone in a small apartment. You could have bought several things and not worried about not being able to make ends meet, but could you have made it through the first day of work? Or rather, every day? You sighed looking at the smartwatch on your wrist, deciding you had to go inside. It certainly couldn't stop time and you couldn't be late on your first day. With a decisive, albeit fake step, you headed towards the large building. You saw people at the exit mingling and getting less and less as you went, until you showed your e-pass to enter. You entered without problems and looked around: a classic building, yes, but by Stark. And it looked good. You inhaled through your nose trying not to show your nervousness, on the contrary, forcing a small smile on your face. You had to make an effort to at least look happy and satisfied with this new job. Everything had already been explained to you in advance by email, you even had an interview to ensure that no confidential information ever came out of your mouth. You had turned your nose slightly up at this: your job was simple and those files weren't really that secret, what could they worry about? But of course it wasn't your business and you certainly didn't have a say about it. You went to the third floor, take the right. Your office was there: there were no new colleagues to talk to, just a coffee machine on the ground floor and your office waiting for you with a great view outside. It was tiny but perfectly adequate for your job. You smiled slightly, placing your briefcase on the desk and taking a few seconds to admire the place. You found it minimal, perfect. You loved simple things. You heard little noises at the door, so you briefly composed yourself as you turned around. "Can I help you?" the question came out almost spontaneously, so much so that you had not taken into consideration the person in front of you. Steve Rogers. He was one of the avengers, you knew him and were grateful for his work. You knew the story of him, you had seen the videos.

He was the perfect hero and soldier, but heroes weren't really your thing. Maybe you were wrong, but you felt gratitude, yes, but not as much gratitude as felt by the many inhabitants of New York and other cities. You were okay, the avengers were too and did their job while you did yours, and it didn't seem like a really bad thing. You wanted to leave things as they were and had made it clear right away that you didn't want to be involved in any kind of danger. "Well no, actually I just wanted to say hello. I saw you outside... you looked very nervous." he giggled nervously, putting his hand to his hair as if to fix it.

As if he had something out of place. You suppressed a little twitch in the eye of nervousness, annoyed that someone had seen you. You hated being seen that way, not because there was something wrong, but because all your life they made you believe it was wrong and now... you just got used to it. You put the most fake smile on your face and then you shake your head. "I was actually nervous, but only for the amount of work. I'm really happy to be here and for the welcome, thank you very much." you have denied how much he may have understood of your nervousness, making your voice silky and gentle. You had to behave like this with the public, you knew that. You could see that he was not at all convinced of your answer, almost as if he knew you were lying. You didn't care, after all your work wasn't in contact with the avengers. And to be honest, you could admit that deep down you were scared of men with abilities like Steve Rogers or others. You loved simplicity, they weren't simple, they were anything but. You were hoping that the golden soldier of America might give up and leave you alone to do your job, but he didn't. Instead, he decided to go further into your office, crossing the threshold of the door and frowning around. "Tony should do something about these offices. They're so bare." he frowned, then paused on you with a small smile. "I really hope you brought something to decorate them with. It’d mean, you know, that you will stay here a long time. Nice to have company." he tried to make you comfortable, but he only got the opposite. You frowned completely this time, dropping the mask and pointing out your confusion. "Company? There are a lot of people in this building." you commented with a nervous laugh, not understanding what his point was. You never thought in your entire life that you could say that, but Steve managed to make you deeply uncomfortable, as well as that overwhelming body. Normally it is thought that the bigger a man is, the more he can offer protection and safety, right? For you it was the other way around. It was as if you were afraid of it, deep down, but you didn't want to admit it. So when he approached you further with a little smile and a frown you pretended to be fine, stopping the urge to play with your nails or look away. He tilted his head slightly, giggling, shaking his head. "The third floor is almost completely empty. It's a new sector, Stark needed a few professionals and they have all already been distributed. Your office is very close to the rooms of us avengers, but in this corridor you are almost alone. Most of the rooms are archives. Weren't you informed? " his tone was almost mocking, you almost found that he wanted to discredit you. Or maybe it was your paranoia that spoke. You nearly choked on your own saliva upon receiving and processing that information, but you couldn't go back now. You had to get used to it. So you did what came naturally to you: pretend to laugh in situations of profound discomfort. "I think I missed it in the email sent, but thanks for the information, now I know why there were very few people here." you offered one of your best smiles, looking first at his blue eyes and then at the door, as if to indicate that he should go. He smiled back at you in the best possible way, almost seemed to commit himself. But he didn't get your message. You then cleared your throat, heading over to your desk and opening your briefcase. A photo of you came out but you didn't worry about it at that moment, thinking of sitting gracefully in your armchair. It was only time to turn around, that only after you surprised the infamous Steve Rogers with your photo in hand. Without thinking twice, you took it from his hands, holding it tight to your chest. Only when you saw his shocked expression on him did you realize your mistake: you lost control. You then cleared your throat, looking down embarrassed. "Sorry, it's just that important but I wasn’t-" You didn't really know what to say, there was no real excuse. The truth was that you were right and he didn't have the right to take your things, but could you really start your first day like that? Fortunately, his gallantry preceded him. "No really, I'm sorry! It was my fault, I shouldn't have... I just saw it and you, it was really beautiful. The view too." he giggled nervously, backing away. He felt deeply uncomfortable, like you. There was an awkward silence, followed by a brief "see you later" and his footsteps farther and farther away from him. You thought Steve Rogers was a great soldier, a good avenger but you didn't think he was capable of making you so uncomfortable. You didn't think about it, shaking your head and getting to work. You didn't have the time or the will to think. You knew you weren't nice and didn't need to believe otherwise, and above all you knew you weren't in that building to make friends or get acquainted. You loved the simplicity of your work, you would not have allowed someone to ruin it even just by entering your mind for a bad impression.

#dark steve rogers #dark marvel #dark avengers #dark bucky barnes #dark winter soldier #dark! steve #dark steve #dark! steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #dark stucky #dark! stucky #dark steve serie #dark steve fiction #dark bucky x reader #dark! bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark james buchanan barnes #dark stucky x reader

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sjsmith56 · 9 days

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The Fae Elements, Part 4 - Hidden

Summary: Hidden together by magic in a forest sanctuary, Buck reveals more of Sage’s powers and his long-held interest in her. He also tells her more of his own past.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Buck, Sage, Dark Overlord (briefly)

Warnings: Some frank talk of sexuality and a brief moment of consensual sex (not descriptive except in a poetic sense?), feelings of shame from Buck at his own struggles.

Author notes: The images of fae Bucky above were created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode. I wish there was a way to tell the app to build upon a specific image but it kept bringing up different variations so that’s been written into the story.

<<Part 3

🌳 🪓 🏡

My first thought when I entered the cottage was that it was bigger on the inside. My second thought was why was there only one bed? An enigmatic smile appeared on Buck’s face as those thoughts entered my mind.

“Can you read my mind?” I asked, unsure whether I should be angry and more guarded with myself.

He shrugged. “I try not to, but sometimes your thoughts are very transparent and insert themselves into mine. It’s bigger on the inside because of magic. The outside, because it was built by my hands, never changes. There's only one bed now because it is a sanctuary for one, me. Hope originally lived with me until her 18th year then chose to live in the stronghold. When my children have been here since, they have used their own magic to construct their own structure. I can make one for you, if you wish, but it would be a basic hut as I’m at the limit of my own magic with everything here and some things outside. You’re my guest so you get the bed. The sofa isn’t that comfortable, but I meant what I said about respecting you.” My next thought must have been transparent because he grinned. “I have four children. Hope is the second youngest. She’s 335 years old. My youngest, a half-fae, Richard, is 78. He is the result of a night where my loneliness and the loneliness of a kind mortal woman coincided. He chose to live in the mortal world, and I respect his decision. I have two more sons, twins Arthur and John, who are 357 years old. Twins are a rarity in the fae world. They were the first children Daere and I had.”

“You had no others with your other wives?”

“No, Daere was mortal, like you,” he said, looking me in the eye. “She chose to undergo the ritual when we married and became more fertile than the others.” He grimaced a little, I guess he didn’t want to reveal that, then gestured with his hand. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

He led me up a set of stairs that was more of a ladder into the attic of the cottage. A window at each end provided light from the outside but as soon as we stepped into the space a host of candles lit up, showing a rustic bedroom with a large bed in front of one of the windows. There was living greenery hanging from the rafters and corners, giving the space a feeling of being in a greenhouse sanctuary. A doorway set in one side of the sloped roof led to a large dormer with a stunning bathroom containing a tub and separate shower. The thought of there being running water out here made me giggle and he looked at me with a questioning glance.

“Just the thought of having such a beautiful bathroom in such a rustic cottage made me wonder about how you would get running water out here. It’s magic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s magic,” he replied. “When I first built it, I used an outhouse and washed at the pump by the kitchen sink, but as personal hygiene improved over the centuries, I made improvements here as well. The addition was built by me, but the furnishings are all magic.”

“Were you always fae?” For a moment, I regretted my choice of words, but he must have sensed it because he smiled. “Sorry to be so nosy but you seem to like doing things by hand.”

“It’s a fair question to ask, since I admitted to building the structure manually, an unusual thing for my kind,” he answered. He breathed out. “I was half-fae, the result of a love affair between a mortal man and my fae mother, a descendant of Lilith. I lived with him for a time when I was searching for my own truth. He was a learned man who was a carpenter and taught me his trade. When it became evident that I had inherited my mother’s powers of longevity, and eternal youth, he encouraged me to join the world of the fae. It was the Middle Ages, and the plague took him in 1349 when I was away for a short time. I mourned him for he taught me much of how mortals live. It was a surprise to myself and to many when I was chosen as a candidate to be fae king. I became full fae upon my coronation.” He stepped towards the doorway. “I’m going to change and cut some wood for the fireplace and stove. There’s nothing like a fire to warm one’s soul. You can have the far dresser and closet in the room. Excuse me.”

He left me there in the bathroom, so I put my toiletries in the cabinet then ventured out to the bedroom, knocking before I came through. Buck was already gone so I put my clothes away and went down the ladder, noticing the candles in the bedroom went out behind me as I descended. I could hear the sound of an ax outside. Seeming to have found a steady rhythm of swinging and hitting the wood, I could hear it when he tossed the pieces into piles. While he did that, I looked around the main room of the cottage. There was a kitchen area, with a wood stove, sink with a pump beside it, shelves with plates, bowls, and drinking vessels. A cupboard was full of basic staples like sugar, salt, coffee, tea and the like. There was no refrigerator, although there was a pantry that seemed to have canned and dried foods. The fireplace area had two large armchairs facing it with a sofa behind them against the wall. There were bookshelves in many of the open spaces, full of many titles, both classic and modern.

When I finally made my way outside, I stopped in my tracks at the sight before me. Buck had taken his shirt off, displaying a broad muscular chest and shoulders. His biceps were impressive leading to powerful forearms with noticeable veins. On his left shoulder and chest was a large tattoo of a leafless tree, it’s branches seemingly splitting into infinity, with roots that went deep. It was very much in keeping with his presence in this forest. He turned towards me as I stepped out, smiling slightly at my sudden interest in his body.

“You up to some foraging? With your camping experience I would think you could tell edible mushrooms and berries from poisonous ones. There’s a basket with a handle in the kitchen. There should also be wild lettuce greens or fiddlehead greens near the trees. I would rather not fish or hunt for meat just yet. When we’ve been here a while, I’ll have a better idea of which animals are ready to leave their existence.”

He didn’t elaborate, returning to cutting the wood. Since our lunch had been interrupted, I was actually quite hungry. I found the basket and set out on a hunt for berries, finding strawberries mostly, and some fiddle head greens. I even found some asparagus, biting into one of the smaller stalks raw, enjoying the delicate taste. The mushrooms were another matter, and I brought a cloth to put the ones that looked closely like those I bought in the store, not wishing to contaminate the other food if they proved to be a poisonous variety. By the time I found my way back, which wasn’t hard, as all paths seemed to lead back to the cottage, Buck had finished cutting wood and started up the stove. He also put a shirt on, albeit one that seemed to display those impressive muscles quite well. He looked at the basket I was carrying.

“Well done,” he said. “Asparagus is still in season.” He lifted up the cloth to view the mushrooms, breathing their scent in. “They’re good, all of them. I should be able to make something quite tasty for us.”

He pulled some onions and garlic out of the pantry, chopping the former coarsely and the latter finely. Putting the onions on a low heat to sweat their juices out, he lightly sautéed the mushrooms whole, then took them out and added some chopped potatoes, which must have been hiding in the pantry as well, although I didn’t see them. After salting and peppering them he let them cook for a time while he used a gentle brush to clean the asparagus and fiddlehead greens. He did have some olive oil and poured some in a second pan, tossing the asparagus around first then removing it, and doing the same to the fiddlehead greens. Arranging everything on a platter he went into the pantry, coming out with a small jar with a round shaped dark brown mass inside. The mass glowed when he rested his hand on the jar for a moment, then he opened it and an earthy smell wafted out. He shaved several flakes of it off onto the food, then returned it to the jar, placing it under an enchantment again.

“Truffles,” he said. “Their smell and flavour are quite intense, so I just shave a little bit on. Since I don’t have a refrigerator, I have to use magic to preserve them.” He looked over at a cabinet. “There is some red wine inside there. The top row has some that don’t require a lot of airing. Any one of them should go with this little feast.”

I went to the cabinet, opening it to see a large selection inside and pulled a bottle from the top row. Bringing it over to the table as he brought the food and some dishes, as well as a couple of wine glasses, he opened the bottle with a corkscrew and poured it out into the glasses.

“No music, I’m afraid, except for the sound of the birds and the breeze outside.” He waited for me to sit, then sat across from me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone, fae or mortal. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given us. I think that fits.”

“Lord of the Rings,” I said, after we both sipped our wine, which was very very good. “Gandalf said that to Frodo.”

“I personally believe Tolkien knew a few fae,” replied Buck. “He certainly understood much of our world. Some mortals were capable of that.”

I cut one of the mushrooms in half and brought it up to my mouth. It was quite a difference tasting a freshly harvested mushroom from one that had sat on a store display for a time. The fiddlehead green was tender, as was the asparagus, while the potatoes seemed to be there to fill up our bellies with goodness. It was modest fare, but it was satisfying, and I thanked Buck for the tasty meal.

“Oh dear, you’ve said something you never should to a fae,” sighed Buck. “A mortal shouldn’t say thank you to a fae as it implies that you’re in their debt, in a contract you didn’t agree to. Instead, say I’m grateful. I’m worldly enough to know there is no obligation but certain fae would take advantage of your thanks.”

“Well then, I’m grateful for the meal and for everything you’ve done for me,” I stated. “I know I wasn’t the most understanding person in the Washington home but when Hope made it clear I’ve been under your protection for a long time I began to see things differently.”

“She shouldn’t have told you. What I said about not taking advantage is mostly true, but I am fae and there are times I let my own desires rule my actions.”

He picked up the dishes, taking them over to the sink. After filling a large pot with water, he set it on the wood stove to heat up, not making eye contact with me. At first, I watched, then I went over to where he stood, his back still to me, as he looked out the window to the early evening scene. Touching his arm gently brought a small smile to his face.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Because you might not like me after I tell you,” he answered, turning his gaze on me, “and I do like you very much. I have for a long time and have struggled not to let my personal feelings rule my decisions.”

Those blue eyes seemed uncertain, and I was intuitive enough to know that meant he had a hard truth to share. In my line of work there were many occasions when I needed to hear a hard truth. Sometimes we put people on a pedestal expecting a level of behaviour from them that is unrealistic, then are angry at them when they show they are human after all. Fae, or fairy people, in the stories I read were tiny creatures flitting about from flower to flower. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, they could be capricious, jealous creatures, sometimes doing something spiteful just so they could have their way, regardless of who it hurt.

The reality of meeting not just one fae but several had shown them to be physically attractive, although Buck had admitted his appearance wasn’t completely true. I had seen the wings and thought they were incredibly majestic. Physically he was a beautiful man with a poet’s soul. He startled me slightly, when I felt the touch of his fingertips on my cheek. His gaze was soft, seeming to stoke a response deep inside me, something I hadn’t really felt before.

“Let’s wash the dishes and relax for the evening,” he suggested. “Tomorrow, when we’ve both slept and had a chance to unwind from the events of today, I will tell you some things.”

When the water in the pot boiled, he poured it into the sink, adding a few pumps of cold water into it to make it manageable. Just like at the healing pond shower, there was a small sponge that lathered up as he wet it and rubbed it over the dishes. While he washed, I dried and put things back. When the pots were done, he pulled the sink plug and the water drained out to whatever magic septic tank system he had created in his sanctuary. The remaining wine was stoppered for consumption at another time.

With that agreed upon Buck picked a book out from a shelf and began reading. As it darkened outside, candles on the inside lit up, casting the space in a soft light. With a fire going in the fireplace, it was warm and cozy, as I settled in front of it, content to watch the flickering flames for my entertainment. I was tired and a lot of things had happened that I wanted to mull over in my own mind. Eventually, I could feel my head dropping as it became heavier.

“Sage,” said Buck, gently, kneeling beside the chair where I sat. “I think you should go to bed. I’m coming up to wash myself and grab some night clothes, but I’ll be out of your way quickly.”

With a nod, I stood up, then climbed the ladder ahead of him. As he disappeared into the bathroom, I chose some sleeping clothes then waited for my turn to wash up. As he exited, we said goodnight to each other and I washed, changed, then slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately feeling like I was sinking into something soft and warm.

I did wake up once and looked out the window. In the moonlight I could see a figure, who I assumed was Buck, but he was just far enough away that I couldn’t be sure. He faced the full light of the moon barefoot, wearing only a pair of cloth bottoms. His top was unclothed, and his arms were outstretched in the pale beams as if he was taking in its light for sustenance. His wings were also outstretched, almost straining to lift him up into the night sky. A bird swooped in close then landed and transformed into a dark-skinned man, his dark brown wings spreading apart. When he turned to face the moon’s light it seemed to be Sam Wilson, but he was too far away for me to be sure. After several long moments of them standing there, side by side, they faced each other, having an earnest conversation. Several times they both looked in my direction, but I didn’t know if they were aware I was watching. Eventually, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning.

The sounds of food preparation in the kitchen area reached my ears in the bedroom, making me open my eyes. Sunlight shone through the window at the other end, and I sat up. Almost on cue a head appeared at the top of the ladder.

“Good morning,” said Buck. “I hope you slept well. I’m making some breakfast if you want to freshen up and join me. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

When I descended, he had everything ready, omelettes with a soft cheese filling, toasted bread, and coffee, along with more berries. It was basic fare, but filling and I felt satisfied. We cleaned up the dishes together, then Buck left to get changed. When he returned, he looked like he was dressed for a hike.

“Do you feel up for a walk?” he said. “I’ll show you my little private corner of the world and we’ll talk.”

After giving me a moment to take care of some personal needs, I found him waiting outside for me. We headed into the forest, walking without talking for some time until we came to a sunlit glade. The morning dew was still on the blades of grass, making them look like they had diamonds on them. Even the spider webs strung between some of the taller grasses and brambles glistened in the morning light. We walked some more until we came out to a spot overlooking a broad valley. A split log rested between two boulders, and he gestured to me to sit on it.

“All this land, as far as the eye can see is under an enchantment,” he said quietly. “There are trees here that are older than a thousand years. It’s all so precious but even it is in danger. When I leave this life, my magic will no longer protect it and it will be as much at risk of exploitation as any other place in the world.”

“What of the next fae king?” I asked. “Won’t his magic protect it?”

“He could be a fae aligned with another element or be one of those who clings to the old ways, harassing mortal folk and kidnapping their children to be his servants. It’s not something I have control over.”

There was something sad about how he said that, as if he didn’t have much hope. Without even thinking I reached out my hand to his and squeezed it. He smiled and kept our hands together.

“Sam came to see me in the night. I know you saw us together. It’s safer for them to visit then as it’s harder to be tracked here. The person who betrayed our presence was a half-fae. Not Maria.” He noticed my look of concern. “They kidnapped her, used dark magic to get the location out of her. My people repelled the attack on the safe house but a couple of the dark fae broke through the barrier. The one who followed us was one of them. Thank goodness Loki saw him and followed him to the beach. He slew him and identified him as one of Rumlow’s Horde. It’s almost certain Rumlow is the Dark Overlord. His appearance in the court where you were is no coincidence.”

“So, he was trying to take me on the street?” I asked. “How would he know about me, if I’ve been under your protection?”

A distressed look appeared on his face, and he turned to me.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t really known, not in its entirety,” he answered. “I’ve told differing versions of it even to my own people because I haven’t always acted in an honourable manner. But I promised you the truth. What I said about meeting your parents on their honeymoon camping trip was true. What I didn’t say was that somehow, as they hiked the back country they breached the boundary of my hidden haven. It was only when I confronted them that I realized your mother was a descendant of Lilith. My first instinct was to slay your father and take her for my own, which was well within my rights as fae king, but I realized your father also had fae in him, not as strongly evident as your mother but it was definitely there. In fact, his fae bloodline is an ancient one. That stayed my hand, but I did fall in love with both of them, so I led them back to the cottage and allowed them to set up their tent outside. I originally offered them the bedroom, but I think instinctively they knew they would be obligated to me in a way they weren’t comfortable with.”

“You wanted a threesome?” That wasn’t something I expected to ask about my parents. “I thought you were still in mourning.”

He shrugged. “So did I, but fae can be gender fluid and I’m not immune to the pleasures of the flesh, at the right moment. It’s how my youngest child was conceived when his mother’s needs required my attentions in a very basic way. Yes, I admit a threesome would have been my expectation if they accepted my offer, but I read their reluctance accurately, quickly realizing their love was only for each other as they took the promise of fidelity in their marriage seriously. I tempered my desires, but I realized your mother’s bloodline was so strong that any other fae might not be so understanding and would slay your father outright. The Dark Overlord would definitely have taken Fern for his own.”

“A desire to protect your parents grew in me during their stay as my guests. I dampened your mother’s gift, with her knowledge and permission, for she had always known she was sensitive to otherworldly beings. Your father’s profession was one that could be bolstered by fae interests, and he agreed to help manage our financial assets. Even though he was a free spirit in many ways, he understood our need to be independent financially, especially in these modern times. It was his suggestion to invest in ethical operations, making them stronger, while making us wealthier. Gaia Life was his idea, a non-profit organization that strove to undo the damage done to the environment by encouraging sustainable development and ecologically sound practices. He was well ahead of his time and his association with Gaia Life meant it was easier for me to keep your family safe.”

It explained a lot of things. My parents were quite liberal in their love of music, art and culture, while voting progressively, openly pro-choice, and displaying a lot of empathy for social issues. My mother was a teacher, and my father a financial consultant who rarely talked about his clients. We lived a privileged life, yet we always spent time working in soup kitchens, going out on highway cleanup events and other things that involved us physically helping someone or something. I was surprised that he never mentioned Gaia Life to me, especially since I became an environmental lawyer, and I would have met Buck at some point.

“Why did I never meet you until my father’s funeral?” I asked. “You said you saw me as I grew up. If you met my father regularly you would have known that I went into environmental law.”

“I did know,” he sighed. “It was a promise I made to your father to stay out of your life as much as possible.” He was quiet again, making me wonder if this was the part where I might not like him. “Can I touch your forehead and temples? I want to share some memories with you. It will help provide context to many things.”

It was a strange request but in the last 5 ½ weeks I had been exposed to many new things that I never knew existed before. I agreed and we faced each other. With the lightest of touches, he spread his fingertips from both hands over my forehead and temples, then gazed at me intently before closing his eyes. Instinctively I closed mine as well and felt like I was being drawn through a swirling mass of images and voices until we ended up at a lake, a lake I remembered very well, as we went there every summer when my brothers and I were kids. It was the best of times, full of laughter and good memories. Then my father’s face appeared, and I realized it was a memory of him, my mother, and Buck talking as us kids played in the water.

“You have two choices,” said Buck, his voice sounding ominous. “Do nothing and the Dark Overlord will sense her. He will come for her and take her for his own, adding her fae powers to his. Or you can give her to me, and I can take her to our stronghold. She will be raised as fae royalty, given training to counter the dark fae magic, and most of all, she will be safe.”

My mother spoke then, and her face appeared in Buck’s view. “No, I refuse to believe there isn’t a third option. I know you fae don’t love your children quite the same way we mortals do but you can’t expect us to give her up. Will you use magic to make her forget us? She deserves to choose the life she wants. Whether that is to live as mortal or as a fae should be up to her, no one else.”

“I agree with Fern,” added my father. “You told us on our honeymoon that any daughter we had would have strong fae powers and we accepted that. We’ve encouraged her to read all sorts of fantasy and mythology-based books and to be open to other beings living hidden in this world. When she’s older we can reveal the truth to her, and she can decide then. But I’m not about to let you take her when she’s only eleven years old. She’s a child.”

“She’s about to enter puberty and her powers will shine like a beacon after her first bleed,” answered Buck. “Although the light fae would still see her as a child and allow her to mature at her own pace, the dark fae will consider her an adult at that point. The Dark Overlord will take her for his bride and will not be gentle with her.” His view went to the children in the lake, focusing on Sage, then back at her parents. “Do not ever accuse me of not loving my children the way mortals do. Even though we don’t raise them as humans raise their own, they are still loved and cared for. I have a half-fae son who chose to give up his powers and live a mortal life in the human world. His safety and wellbeing are important to me. Sage’s are just as important.”

“Can’t you dampen her gift like you did mine?” asked my mother. “Can’t you keep her hidden that way?”

Buck sighed. “It will take a lot out of me and there will be times I might not be able to maintain it, opening her to danger during those times. If she lived in the stronghold the combined powers of the fae there would be able to protect her when I cannot. Even I have my limits.”

“Please,” begged my father. “If you take her, it will destroy us.”

There was silence then Buck looked at me again before looking at my parents. “I can give her a gift. If she accepts it, then she binds herself to me. It is a promise that at some point I will collect on, but I can wait until she is an adult, when it will become my duty to enlighten her to her powers. The bond created by the gift will make it easier for me to dampen her powers so that the Dark Overlord doesn’t sense her.”

My parents looked at each other, then at me, their faces showing the dilemma of the decision they had to make.

“Promise, you’ll allow her to live as a mortal until she’s of age by fae standards.” My father was emphatic.

“For as long as it’s possible,” agreed Buck. “If she turns 30 and doesn’t manifest her powers I will wait even longer. You have my word.”

They both nodded their heads then Buck made them say it out loud, essentially creating the contract between them. He reached around his neck and took a silver necklace off, a necklace with a pendant of a tree showing its bare branches and roots.

Automatically, my hand went to my neck, touching the necklace that in my memory had been given to me by my parents. I had worn it ever since, never taking it off. Although it was silver, it had never tarnished. Now, I knew why. Buck removed his fingertips from my face and sat on the bench, looking off into the distance. He said nothing, whether because he was ashamed or if whatever he said was irrelevant now didn’t seem to matter. Regardless, Buck waited.

“The orchid, that was a gift as well,” I said. “Was that also to bind me to you?”

“No, it was a talisman to provide extra protection after I met with you at your office. I went to further assess your powers and thought it prudent to provide you with as much protection as I could. It still hurt when I saw it destroyed. The Dark Overlord would see it as something binding us and that was a message to me that he wouldn’t respect it. He didn’t know about the necklace but the man who choked you was burned by its power. He would certainly have reported it.”

“Were you lying to my parents?”

“No! I respected them too much and I respect you. I omitted to tell you things, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. It was a false hope. But with my own powers stretched to the limit even then without any sort of binding agreement or contract there had to be something that could strengthen the protection I gave you. I didn’t intend to collect for a long time, as long as you were still protected. When you saw me at the funeral, I realized your powers were becoming stronger than the dampening spell and it was only a matter of time before the dark fae became aware of you. That proved to be very accurate.” He stood up. “There is more but I think you’ve heard enough for the day. I need to be alone for a while. Return to the cottage and stay close to it.”

His wings appeared and he took off, quickly fading into the distant sky. I remembered the day my parents seemed to have an intense discussion with a person while we were on holidays at the lake, but I still couldn’t picture who the third person was, realizing Buck had shielded himself from my memory. Perhaps it was him that made it seem the necklace given to me was from my parents, an acknowledgement that he wouldn’t reveal himself to me until he collected on the debt. He hadn’t revealed himself at the funeral either; that was my own magic doing it. I stood up to return to the cottage, seeing the path there was marked ahead of me with rocks. It was evident that Buck couldn’t waste any magic, making me wonder how much of the fae world needed his magic to protect it, yet he was using it on me, a mortal.

Maybe that is when I realized I was running away from what I really was. I had been hidden almost my entire life. Yes, it was for my own protection, but it also hid the real me. I was fae and even if I chose not to mate, losing powers that I didn’t know I had, nothing would change that. My mother’s bloodline extended to the first woman to say no to what was expected of her, Lilith. My father’s bloodline had fae in it as well, enough that Bucky didn’t kill him and take my mother as his prize. That left Bucky, the fae king who had offered me marriage, long life, eternal youth, power, and children, all of it on my terms.

Hope said he had feelings for me. Had he started to developed feelings for me when he gifted the necklace? Did he suppress those feelings about me as I grew older, became an adult, then a lawyer? By my reckoning it was 20 years between the time I received the necklace and my father’s death. I was 31, not a child anymore and any disgust he had possibly felt in himself about taking a child bride could no longer apply to me. Perhaps to a roughly 700-year-old fae I was still very young, yet he had been very much restrained in all of our meetings. It was always my choice; he made that very clear from the start.

When I arrived back at the cottage, I felt like staying busy, so I searched nearby for some greens and picked them along with some nuts that I found and more berries. Leaving them in the kitchen I returned outside and laid in a hammock, looking up at the sky. Letting my mind wander, I listened to the sound of the trees and the birds, letting them wash over me. It was calming and relaxing and soon I drowsed off. It was dusk when I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” said Buck. He raised a hand, showing a couple of fish, hanging from a hook. “I had much to think about. At least, I caught us some dinner.”

Carefully getting out of the hammock I stood up and looked at him, at the last golden rays of the sun, making his dark hair look lighter. The forest was definitely his element. In a suit and tie, he looked elegant but here he looked like he belonged.

“I thought about what you said and showed me,” I began. “How much of your powers are being used to protect me?”

“A considerable amount,” he admitted. “Once the Solstice has passed a ritual can strip your powers and you can live as a mortal without fear. My powers will no longer be needed.”

“What if I wish to embrace my fae heritage? What if I decide to agree to the marriage and the Solstice ritual? Will you teach me how to be fae? Will that take more of your powers away from you?”

“No, I have no more to give. It would just be redirected into your education into the fae world. It means you would be open to attack although we should be safe here and you would learn how to defend yourself. The stronghold would also be safe with the combined powers of all the fae protecting you.” He swallowed. “Have you decided?”

“I think I have.” I touched my necklace. “I was always meant to be your queen, wasn’t I? You were looking for the right descendant of Lilith and the fact my mother was already taken meant her daughter was the next best candidate.” He looked uncomfortable as there was a bit of weirdness about it, by mortal standards anyways. “I’m not accusing you of anything nefarious. You’ve admitted your faults and haven’t lied outright about anything. You’ve told me what I needed to hear. So, my answer to your question is another question. If I say yes, will you allow yourself to love me, openly and without reservation? I can’t accept anything less.”

A softness came over Buck’s face then, making him seem younger and less burdened with the worries of his position. He laid the fish on a bench, then rubbed his hands through a nearby plant, releasing the scent of lemon. Placing his hands on my cheeks, he gazed into my eyes.

“I already love you, Sage. Telling you I was incapable of it was the only actual lie I spoke, as I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t fully understand. If we marry, it is truly for life. I am 715 years of age, old for most fae, but a fae king can live for 1500 or more years. You are 31, barely out of childhood by fae standards but there are some who married younger than you. After the ritual your life span can extend to as long as that of a fae king, provided you truly wish it. I could say the words right now that I want to say when we marry but I want to wait.”

I started to protest as I was ready, but he placed his hands on mine, raising them to his lips.

“It is a life-changing commitment and asks you to sacrifice much. If you are truly ready, then a week will not change anything. In that week, I will tell you everything that I didn’t tell you earlier and show you my true self. You deserve that much before you make your final decision. If you still agree to marry me, I will advise my court of the decision and they can prepare for the Summer Solstice ceremony. You must understand that your family cannot be there, as it is not open to those not of the fae world, other than the bride. Plus, there is the matter that your mother no longer remembers me. There are ways around it, but it is something we need to talk about.”

He was right. There were still things that had to be said and done before I could make that final commitment. Leaving the real world to live in a mystical one was going to be a big adjustment, even if I would still have a presence in the human world. Reluctantly, I agreed, and he hugged me then began to release me. As I looked up at him, a change came over his face and he lowered his lips to mine, hesitating briefly before touching my lips with his. The kiss started out soft and sweet, then deepened, as our lips opened to each other. I could feel a heat stirring deep inside my body, an urgency unlike anything I had ever felt before. Pulling away, I breathed heavily, noticing Buck was also affected.

“We have to wait for the Solstice, right?”

He smiled in a way that sent a thrill through me. “No, we don’t. We can have all the sex we want until the day of the wedding.” His fingertips reached for my hair, and he ran his hand down my shoulder to my hand, pulling me closer. “The consummation requirements of the ceremony require us to make love when the sun is at its highest and the moon is at its lowest, in the sacred places where we’ll be. Until then, we can do what we damn well please.”

It was like a switch had been flipped as we threw ourselves at each other. Using magic, he sent the fish to the kitchen then he picked me up and carried me into the house, up the ladder into the bedroom, the candles coming on as we entered. As our clothes came off, I noticed his tattoo had changed, pointing it out to him. He laughed, a sound that was just as sexy now as the first time I heard him.

“My body is a living breathing canvas in constant flux,” he explained, as he pressed his lips into my neck, mouthing the pulse point under my ear. “The forest is always changing, and my tattoos reflect that. I am fae and my ties to the natural world involve my whole body.”

As he laid me down on the bed, removing the rest of our clothes effortlessly I couldn’t stop watching the way the markings on his body shifted and rippled as the level of our excitement rose. I forgot about all of that the moment we joined, yielding to the pleasure I was feeling. As my mind drifted towards the inevitable climax that was building it seemed I was on another plane of existence. When it happened, I could feel it all, the touch of the breeze in the night, the rustling of the leaves in that breeze, the scent of the flowers that bloom in the glow of the moon, ending with the sound of his wings unfurling and beating at the moment we both came, before enclosing us in their soft but protective embrace. It was profound and I never wanted to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.

“Amica mea,” whispered Buck. “At last, I found you.” His lips were on mine again as we both came down from the high of our union, then he gazed at me. “It means my love in Latin, the most sacred language of the fae.”

“Is it always like that?” I gazed right back at him, amazed that this beautiful man was mine.

“Always. When you transform, you will be part of the life of this planet and will feel it in your veins.” He interlaced his fingers with mine. “Together we will heal the scars that blight the land.”

That’s when I saw him. I saw a vision of the Dark Overlord in his human and fae form. He was wearing a suit, looking like he did that day in court when I failed to prove HYDRA Mining had polluted the waterways. As his gaze turned to see me, I stiffened in response. Then Brock Rumlow sneered at me.

“There you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been looking for you. It won’t take me long to find you, my treasure, my precious Sage. Tell Barnes I’ll find a way into his haven. When I do, I will slay him and take what is mine.”

He began to transform into his fae form, and I cried out as it was horrible, his red eyes and dark grey skin displaying the image of a demon, full of venom and fury. As I closed my eyes to rid myself of that image, Buck’s voice came through, calling my name, as he stroked my face and head. He didn’t need words to know what I had seen but wasn’t surprised when I told him who it was. There was a history there, that much was obvious. This vision was Rumlow’s shot across the bow, his revelation of his plans. It was a taunt and a promise, and I was very much afraid.

Part 5>>

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