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i-have-a-wonky-eye-too · 2 years

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A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Part 24

<Part 23<

Warnings: swearing, attempted sexual assault on reader, violence, ⚠️John Walker is a dick⚠️, blood, broken nose

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"You look beautiful," Steve wore a loving smile as he gazed at you.

You smiled bashfully and turned around to face him, "Thank you..." You blushed before your brow suddenly furrowed, "Why aren't you downstairs?" You asked him as you began to walk towards him.

Steve smiled as he walked into the room. "I figured you might be feeling a little nervous, so I wanted to come to you. I thought we could walk down together." He held his hand out of for you to take. "Plus, I get to have you all to myself for a short moment," He whispered as he pulled you into his arms making you giggle.

"I like the sound of that... Honey." You smiled.

"Honey?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile.

You rolled your eyes, "I'm trying something, okay? You have all these loving names for me and I have none for you. I don't want you to think I don't love you."

Steve let out a soft chuckle, "My love, it doesn't matter to me what you call me. I know you love me by the little things you do. Like the way you kiss me, or hold my hand. It's the way you look me in the eyes when you say those three wonderful words." He rested his forehead against yours as he held your hands." I know you love me, Y/N."

"I do love you, with all my heart..." You whispered.

Steve placed his hands on your hips and pressed his lips against yours softly. "I love you too." He whispered.

A soft knock on the open door and the clearing of a throat pulled you apart.

"Sorry to intrude, Your Majesty." Happy stood at the door.

Steve let out a heavy breath before turning to face your guard. "No need to apologise, Sir Harold. What is it?"

"It's time for the two of you to join the festivities, Your Majesty." Happy gave you the tiniest of smiles. "Are you ready, Your Highness?" He asked.

You nodded, drawing in a deep breath as you took hold of Steve's hand and turned to smile at him. "Ready."

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You sat between your brother and Steve, trying to hold in your yawn as another lord stood to give a speech. You'd stopped paying attention after the first one and that was so long ago.

"How can a party be so boring?" Tony whispered from beside you making you grin.

"It's you're party, brother." You whispered back.

Actually, sister, it's your party. I'm just the host." Tony answered back.

You shook your head, "Maybe so but as host, isn't it your job to make the evening enjoyable?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

Steve let out small chuckle, "She has a point, Tony."

Tony huffed dramatically, "No one asked you."

You raised your hand to cover your mouth as you snickered at Tony's unamused pout.

"Uhm, Your Majesty?" Lord Coulson looked at the three of you with an irritated glare. "Is there a problem, Sire?"

You let out another snicker behind your hand as Tony sat up straight before clearing his throat.

"The Princess was just asking if it was possible for you to stop talking." Tony blurted out.

Your eyes widened, "Anthony!" You scolded him before turning to Lord Coulson trying not to appear embarrassed as Tony smirked to himself. "Forgive my brother, Lord Coulson, his brain tends to not understand what his mouth should say." You sent Tony a glare as Steve chuckled beside you. "I was merely asking, if we could end your speech and the others there. You see... your kind words are making me teary eyed," You pretended to wipe a tear away.

A simple trick Wanda had taught you years ago. 'Playing on the innocent little princess appearance will fool the men into doing as you pleased.'

"And as this is an evening of joyous celebration, we should be drinking and dancing, not crying." You smiled as you stood up from your chair and made your way towards Lord Coulson. "And I'd be honored, Lord Coulson, if you'd be my first dance partner of the evening." You smiled sweetly at him as you stood in front of him.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks beginning to blush, "It would be my honor, Your Highness." He bowed to you.

As you took your position in front of Lord Coulson the music began to play and the two of you began to dance.

"It was, His Majesty, complaining about my speech, wasn't it?" Lord Coulson asked you quietly so only you could hear.

You let out a small laugh, "How many years have you been in his court, Lord Coulson?"

"Many, many, many long years, Your Highness." Lord Coulson let out a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes.

You knew he was joking. Philip Coulson had been a close ally and trusted friend of the court since you could remember. He was one of the very few Lords that didn't want you to be married to King Brock, nor did he agree with the way your father had treated you.

Your smile widened. "Then you have your answer."

"I assumed so."

"I apologize for my brother, Lord Coulson." You offered him a polite smile.

"No need, Your Highness. I've grown used to, His Majesty's, humour shall we say." He smiled. "I hope you know how much you will be missed when you move to Brook." He smiled. "I know you haven't had it easy, Your Highness, but your people do care about you... As does the Queen."

You nodded, "Thank you, Philip. I'll certainly miss you when I'm gone."

As the music came to an end Lord Coulson bowed to you once more before taking his leave.

"May I dance with my wife?" Steve smirked.

You turned around to face him with a playful smile, "We're not married yet, Steven."

He shrugged, "As good as." He smiled holding his hand out to you.

You took his hand and let him pull you closer to him. "I can't wait until we really are."

Steve nodded, "Me neither." He whispered. The two of you slowly began to move along to the music as you gazed at one another. "Have you guessed yet?" He asked with a playful smile.

You frowned, "No. Are you going to tell me?" You asked.

"Nope." Steve grinned at you.

Since Steve's return, you had been playing a game that you'd sometimes play when you'd visit Brook. You'd tell eachother riddles and the other had to try and work them out. So far Steve had four and you had two (and Bucky had one after blurting the answer out before you).

"Fine... Could you tell me it again, please?" You asked.

Steve grinned at you, "Okay, but listen carefully... What is mine, but only you have?"

Your brow furrowed as you pouted softly, thinking over the riddle. You were concentrating so much you stopped dancing and started repeating the words as you stayed in Steve's hold. His grin never left his face as he watched you.

"I... Only have of yours... Is, your love?" You looked up at him. "I hope." You smiled at him.

Steve nodded with soft chuckle, "It's true, yes, but that's not the answer." He smiled. "But you're close with love."

"Hmm," Your brow pinched together as you thought, "Is this a well known riddle or have you come up with it?" You asked.

"It's one of my own, but I have said the answer to you many times before." He smiled.

"I'm close with love, and you've said the answer before..." You frowned to yourself.

"Do you give up?" He asked teasingly. Steve knew you wouldn't give up, he just wanted to tease you.

"No!" You placed your hands on his chest, "I certainly do not give up!" You glared at him. "I can work it out."

Steve nodded, "You can always ask, Buck, for help. He worked out the one you struggled with last time." He looked over his shoulder to where Bucky was dancing with Natasha.

Your eyes widened, "No he didn't!" You slapped his chest playfully, "He just shouted it out before me." You pouted. "And besides, I know the answer." You closed your eyes and turned away from him.

Steve rolled his eyes playfully as he followed after you towards the balcony doors. "Oh, so what's the answer then, my love." He smirked.

You cursed yourself internally as you walked out into the fresh air, trying to figure out what Steve's riddle was. What has Steve said to you many times before that could be the answer?

"Have you spoken to, Pepper?" He asked as the two of you laid under a tree for shade in the garden.

You shook your head. "She still refuses." You frowned. "I stood at her door, talking, apologizing but I'm not sure she was even listening." You turned to him. "Tony, says I no longer need to apologize to her. That I've done nothing wrong..."

Steve rolled onto his side and rested his head on his hand, "He's right, my love. You haven't done anything wrong. Nothing that's happened is down to you and if, Pepper, can not understand that then perhaps she never truly loved you like family, like she should." He frowned.

You lowered your gaze, "Sometimes I think I'm never meant to be loved. My father didn't love me, I never knew my mother, and the one woman I thought loved me like a parent, doesn't."

Steve frowned, "Oh, sweetheart..." He sat up against the tree, pulling you with him. "Tony, loves you. And, Peter, loves you as if you were brother and sister. And, Morgana, certainly loves you. She thinks you hung the moon." He smiled at you as he cupped your cheek. "And I love you, Y/N. My heart is full of so much love for you... You, have my heart and have done for so long." He whispered before pressing a loving kiss to your lips.

Your eyes widened with excitement as you spun around to face Steve. "YOUR HEART!" You shouted, quickly covering your mouth as Steve's head fell back with laughter. Your face burned with embarrassment as guests looked out onto the balcony.

"Well done, Princess." Steve circled his arms around your waist. "I believe that's, four to me, three to you... And one to loud mouth." He chuckled making you smile. "Your turn."

"Oh, this is a good one..." You began grinning with excitement. You'd been saving this one, "What has a thousand eyes, but can not see?" You asked with a pleased grin.

Steve's brow furrowed as he looked off in to thin air thinking. "Hmm... You've been holding onto this one, haven't you?" He asked knowingly making you laugh.

"I don't know what you mean." You smiled and skipped off back inside leaving Steve to ponder over your riddle.

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Bucky's brow creased with confusion as he watched Steve some time later as they stood together sharing a drink and laughs. "Is everything okay, Your Majesty?" He asked. "You look constipated." He joked making Sam laugh and almost choke on his drink.

Steve frowned at him, "You're not funny, Buck." He grumbled.

Sam nodded, "I dunno, Your Majesty, it was quite funny." He chuckled.

Bucky grinned, "Are you gonna tell us what's on your mind?"

He shook his head, "It's nothing." He smiled, glancing over to where you were dancing with King Thor.

Sam rolled his eyes and looked over at Bucky. "They're still playing that stupid game."

Bucky chuckled, "She guessed the answer to yours then?" He asked Steve.

He nodded with a smile. "And hers is rather more difficult than I expected." He chuckled, smiling to himself.

"Care to share?" Bucky asked with a smirk.

Steve frowned, "Not quite yet."

Bucky's head fell back with laughter, "Don't want me to guess it before you, Your Majesty?"

Steve glared at him. "Shut up." He grumbled making the two men laugh.

"Ugh," Wanda and Natasha joined the three men scowling. "Have you seen whom the princess is dancing with?" Natasha asked.

"Isn't the princess dancing with, King Thor?" Sam asked as the three of them turned to look.

Wanda shook her head, "Not anymore."

Bucky glared, "Prince John." He grumbled.

Steve's brow furrowed. "Buck, move closer and keep an eye on the princess, please. That boy is trouble."

Bucky nodded, "Yes, Your Majesty." He bowed to him before turning and making his way over to where you were dancing.

You tried not to show your relief as you saw Bucky making his way towards you.

"Everything okay, Princess?" Prince John asked with frown.

You hummed. "I wondered if you'd excuse me, Your Highness? I just need a moment to myself." You bowed to him as he let go of your hand before making your escape. You sneaked over to the main door and slipped out into hall, letting out a relieved sigh as the music was muffled by the closing door.

"Everything okay, Your Highness?" Happy asked as he stood guard opposite the door.

You nodded, "Just needed a moment to myself, that's all, Hap... Prince John, muscled his way in for a dance when I was enjoying myself with King Thor." You frowned.

Happy hummed, "I'm not sure why, His Majesty, invited that boy." He frowned, "Nothing but trouble."

You nodded. "I know." You shook your head to rid your mind of the thoughts of Prince John and smiled. "Did, Lady Wanda, leave it where I asked?"

Happy nodded, "She did, Your Highness."

"Wonderful. Perhaps, Sir Harold, you could fetch, King Steven, for me?" You asked sweetly as you batted your eyelashes at him.

Happy began smiling one of his very rare and genuine smiles. "I am going to miss you, Your Highness."

You began grinning at him. "As am I, Harold." You stepped forwards and wrapped your arms around him, smiling as he briefly hugged you back.

He cleared his once you stepped back. "I'll fetch, His Majesty, right away, Your Highness." He bowed to you before disappeared back into the ballroom.

You let out an excited giggle and made your way over to the large pillar down the hall where Wanda had hidden the gift you had gotten for Steve. You wanted it to be a secret, a special moment between the two of you, that no one would witness... So why she had to put the damn thing in such a hard place so even you couldn't get it was beyond you.

"Doesn't this remind you of that time we snuck off together on your sixteenth birthday?"

You jumped at the sound of Prince John's voice, turning to face him with the small box in hid behind your back as you turned to face him. "We didn't. You followed me, much like you have now." You tried to move past him. "John, let me past."

He slowly moved closer to you, "I think, you have a lot to learn before your big day tomorrow- or shall I say, night." He chuckled as he pushed you back until your back pressed against the wall.

"Stop it, John." You pushed on him.

"Why don't you let me take you for a once over? Make sure that cunt is nice and warm for, King Steven." He pressed his lips against your skin.

"No! Stop it!" You cried out and pushed him away from you.

John began smirking, his eyes almost turning black as he wrapped his hand around your throat tightly. "Now be a good girl."

You gasped for air. He pushed you back until your head hit the wall making you cry out in pain as you reached up to claw at his hand, letting the velvet box fall to the floor.

"Princess!" Bucky called out as he marched towards you. He grabbed Prince John by the shoulders and yanked him off you, throwing him against the opposite wall with a snarl. "Keep your fucking hands off her!"

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Prince John spat at him as he stood up. "I'll have your head for this." He moved towards Bucky.

Bucky put his hands up to defend himself but before John could go for him, you stood in their way.

"That's enough!" You growled at him. You put your arms out almost as if you were protecting Bucky. "Leave, John, before you make things worse for yourself." You warned him as the doors to the ballroom opened.

"How dare you protect that vermin? He attacked me!" John barked at you.

"Sir James, was protecting me, his future Queen, from your attack, John. Now, like I said, leave before this gets any worse for you." You glared at him.

John scoffed, "And who do you think, King Steven, is going to believe? Me, a prince, or the son of a murderer and you, whose just another whore like Queen Mar-"

Prince John didn't expect your fist to collide with his nose and break it with an audible cracking of bone that echoed off the walls, because neither did you or Bucky. Bucky's mouth hung open as he watched what happened before him, unable to move or speak from shock.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" You snarled at him. "Don't forget, Prince John, where you're tenth in line for your grandfather's thrown, I am weeks away from being crowded Queen of Brook."

You drew in a deep breath as you raised your head and looked up to meet the proud gaze of your beloved. You cleared your throat as you looked at the rest of the audience you had enchanted with your performance.

"Anyone else have anything to say about the past? Anyone else wish to accuse me of being a whore after they try to force themselves on to me? Anyone else want to blame myself or, Sir James, for things that are out of our control?" You moved your glare from one set of eyes to the next as your chest heaved. "No? Good... Now, if you'd excuse me, I'm no longer in the mood for a party." You quickly turned around and walked away after sharing a soft smile ad thank you with Bucky.

Bucky stood dumbfounded as he watched you disappear with Natasha and Wanda quickly following and Happy soon after.

"Is one of you going to tell me, what the blazes is going on?" Tony demanded as he and Steve approached Bucky as someone helped Prince John.

"They attacked me!" John cried.

Bucky turned to glare at him, "He was trying to force himself onto the princess. He attacked her, Your Majesty." He said to Steve.

"It's not my fault she's a whore." John spat making Bucky growl and go for him.

Steve stopped him and sent the prince a glare. "To answer your question, I believe the man that's fought by my side since we were children and the woman that I love. Not the man that clearly attacked her." Steve puffed his chest out as he towered over the prince. "What about you, King Anthony?"

Tony narrowed his eyes as he gave the prince a once over and a dark smirk curled at his lips before he grabbed at the prince's bloody collar and slammed him into the wall. "I warned you after last time, if you tried to hurt her again, I'd hurt you."

John's bottom lip trembled. "Ar-are y-you insane? My grandfather will start a war if-"

Tony's head fell backwards laughter. "Look around you boy. How many kings, how many friends, allied kingdoms do you see that are ready to fight by my side?" Tony asked. "If your grandfather was to start a war, your kingdom would be nothing in a matter of hours. Isn't that right gentlemen?"

Steve nodded, "He'd be stupid to even think about it."

"We'd destroy you like an ant under our boot." King Thor smiled.

"We all stand together." King T'Challa nodded at Steve with a smile.

"And like the soon-to-be Queen said, Prince John, there are nine more before you..." Bucky smirked at him over Tony's shoulder. "You wouldn't be missed."

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#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel #King Steve Rogers x reader #King Steve Rogers #King Steve Rogers x Princess Stark reader #King Steve Rogers x Princess reader #Medieval au marvel #A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.#chris evans x reader #Knight Bucky Barnes #Knight Sam Wilson #King Tony Stark #Steve Rogers x reader

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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 2 years

Text

Singed Daffodils (Chapter 2)

Pairing: King Bucky Barnes x Queen Female Reader

Summary: Ever since you had been young, you knew that you were in love with James Barnes. When you were arranged to marry him, you had been over the moon.

Then throughout your short-lived, doomed marriage, you realized he didn't love you. The divorce papers had been written up and just like that, the two of you weren't married anymore.

Thirteen years later, to avoid scrutiny and even more possible scandal, you're marrying him. Again.

But you've learned your lesson now. Falling in love with James will just spell trouble for you.

James however, is determined to undermine your plan. Every step of the way.

Chapter Warnings: Coronation ceremonies, oath swearing, discussions of perinatal and postpartum depression, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), flashbacks to a wedding night with a virgin!Reader, femdom, and a sub!Bucky. Also lovesick!Bucky, because he's dumb and has one brain cell that he never uses. Mentions of misogyny, terrible fathers.

Additional Notes: Apologizes for the delay in posting this chapter. But, the smut scene was just one scene that I didn't like how it turned out. Maybe because I probably looked at it too long, I don't know. However, if I didn't publish it now, it probably would have never gone up. So, it's here now.

Also, I don't know how good I did with the Femdon!Reader and Sub!Bucky. In my mind, they're both switches. Which is something I am going to be exploring in this story, as it goes on.

As always, if you'd like to read this chapter on my AO3 and show it some love, you can do so here.

Word Count: 11503

James didn’t really know when exactly he had fallen in love with you all those years ago.

That was a lie.

He knew exactly when he had fallen in love with you thirteen years ago.

It had been the exact day that he had served the divorce papers. When he had brought you the papers and told you he was annulling his marriage to you.

At first, you had just looked at him in pure shock. For a moment he really thought that you had shut down.

Everything had changed in that very instant.

Hurt, grief, pain— all of those emotions crossed over your face as if you had just gone through the seven stages of grief before a hard look appeared on your face.

An expression James had never seen before.

Even when both of you had been kids. You had always been an oddly happy child. Always following him around everywhere. You always seemed to want to be around him. As a kid, he never understood it. As your husband, he just thought it was just a wife thing. Steve’s wife was always close to Steve. He suspected it was just a marriage thing.

In that moment however, James felt as if something had flipped inside of you. Like someone flipping a light switch on and off. An ice-cold mask appeared over your face.

Seeing the look on your face made James feel deeply unsettled.

Never ever had he ever seen you look like this.

It made him feel a very unsettling pit in his stomach when you snatched the pen from his fingers and signed your name.

You had signed your name on countless, endless documents ever since becoming princess. James had not spared one glance at your handwriting. It was just your handwriting, after all.

But at that very moment… he suddenly didn’t like seeing your signature there. And then you had politely told him to get out.

Keyword: politely. The exact way that you had molded your words with the cold tone made him feel as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on himself. When he did not move, nor stop looking at you, you had to literally shove him out of the door before slamming it shut right in his face.

After that, you had moved out of the bedroom that you had shared with James. Instead, you had chosen to sleep in a separate wing of the palace. One that was far away from him, and his parents.

Looking back on it now, he did not blame you. If the roles had been reversed, he probably would have done the exact thing.

You busied yourself with dealing with the locals. Going to the borders and discussing problems. Trying to be as far away from your soon-to-be-ex-husband as much as possible.

Throughout the next couple of months, James had to see you briskly walk past him, not even saying a simple “Hello” to him.

James was just… just… fuck. He couldn’t bring himself to describe how he felt the entire time.

Helpless was probably a good word.

Suffering was probably another contender.

He just… he couldn’t… he couldn’t fucking find the right words!

Really, he couldn’t.

How could he?

How could he be able to express his emotions, seeing you spend less and less time around him as the days stretched on?

Before all of this, James had gotten used to you being around him. Even though he woke up facing away from you, he would always be assured by how warm you’d leave the bed.

Now?

Now, the side of the bed was always cold. The lingering scent of your perfume was the only way he knew that you used to share a bed with him. The scent of your perfume that lingered around the room was the only way he knew that you used to even share the same bedroom with him.

Everything in his life currently felt as if someone shook him too many times to the point where his entire worldview had been shifted completely on its axis.

For the first time in his life, James felt lonely.

For the first time in his life, James felt empty.

For the first time in his life, James felt like he was starting to fall in love with you.

After the wedding in the chapel, you and James were escorted to the limo that was waiting outside. Pamela eagerly followed along. She was going to be crowned and announced as Princess, after all! She was giddy! She was excited!

Most of all, she was happy that her parents were together again. Albeit under unsavory circumstances, but still!

The brunette young teenager would never tell her parents this. Or anyone else for that matter. Not even her grandparents. Her Grandpa George and Grandma Winifred were nice. Much nicer than her other grandpa, your dad. Every day when he used to be alive while she had been growing up, she would always see that haunted look in his eyes. That look of pure shame whenever she would be around him. Every day of her damn existence, her other grandpa looked at her like she was simply nothing but an insect under his shoe.

When he died, Pamela couldn’t find it in herself to be sad. Of course, he had been her grandfather. The only one she had seen throughout her whole entire life. But her grandfather— (that one anyway), had treated her like garbage. Whenever he would be in public, he would acknowledge her existence, but he wouldn’t talk to her. After things would be said and done, he would go back to how he normally treated her.

He simply just treated her as if she didn’t exist.

James’s father though? Her Grandpa George?

Oh, he was great! He even treated her out to ice cream! Now that George and Winifred were retired and private citizens, the former king and queen were free to do just whatever the hell they wanted.

Spoiling their granddaughter?

That was something they had plenty of time to do.

Pamela greatly appreciated it.

For the first time in forever, she felt as if she was truly loved by a grandfather.

So as she walked through the huge double doors with you and her father, holding on to her skirts to make sure she didn’t accidentally trip— your daughter beamed at you.

You were nervous.

Oh so nervous.

Never had you held onto James’s hand so hard.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe as he guided you down the aisle, walking past pew by pew of people.

Walking past pew and pew that was full of people who were gawking at you. Looking, staring, gazing at you as if you, James, and Pamela were simply nothing but attractions at a zoo.

Unlike when you had married James and became Princess of his country, this time around, you were deeply uncomfortable with the people who were staring at you.

With the fleeting reminder that rang in your head that you were going to be crowned queen, your coronation dress suddenly felt heavier. Every step you took in the cathedral toward the altar made your heart pound in your chest.

“Breathe. Just breathe.” James’s low murmur in his native tongue might have held back the terror that was grasping at you at the moment, but you still knew that you were very nervous.

Reaching the altar, you felt James let go of your hand. Moving over to the right side of Pamela, James whispered into her ear.

“Like we practiced, sweetheart.”

Beaming at her father, you gave her an encouraging nod as she knelt in front of Bishop Wilson. Beside you, the sound of James unsheathing his sword from its scabbard was heard.

Behind you, the soft murmur of the people echoed in your ears as they watched their king hand over his sword to his friend. Bishop Sam Wilson, after James’s parents had stepped down as the reigning king and queen for James was appointed as the new Bishop by James himself. Entrusting Sam with the sword by handing it to his open hands, Sam gripped the golden hilt with his dominant left hand. His other hand would be used for the holy water.

Just like we practiced. Just like we practiced. Just like we practiced.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind as Pamela continued to look down at the rug of the cathedral before Bishop Wilson spoke.

“Repeat after me if you would please, Pamela.” The Black man gave the young girl a smile.

That was when Pamela looked up.

Just like we practiced. Just like we practiced. Just like we practiced.

Eyes gazing into the brown ones that were full of warmth, Pamela sent him a big smile.

“I solemnly swear to uphold the laws of my land.”

“I solemnly swear to uphold the laws of my land.” Pamela repeated, reciting the words perfectly. Just like how you and James had coached her.

“I solemnly swear to ensure that the laws of my land will be carried out with integrity and dignity. To see that His Majesty’s rules are enforced.”

“So help me God.”

“So help me God.” Pamela completed. With a final nod, he motioned to Pamela to stand, so that she could move and that you could take her place to recite your own oath to your new country.

Pamela got up in a haste, picking up her skirts, in order to make sure she wouldn’t trip down the stairs on her way down.

Moving up, you took your daughter’s place.

Getting onto your knees, your skirt pooled around you like a circle. Your back bent forward as you knelt your head down so that all you could see was the rug.

“Do you wish to crown this woman?” Sam’s voice boomed.

“I do,” James’s voice was strong.

A chill ran up your body when you heard Bishop Wilson utter those next words.

“Is Her Majesty prepared to this oath? To swear her allegiance to her kingdom, in front of her nation?”

You took in a deep breath. Your gaze moved up so that you were looking up into warm brown eyes.

“I am.”

You felt Sam put the smooth blade of the sword on your left shoulder. His right, from where he was standing near the altar in front of you.

The coolness of the metal brushed over your skin, underneath the soft satin of the sleeves of your gown. It calmed you.

“Do you solemnly swear to uphold the great values of this nation? To serve and protect your people?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to serve His Majesty, to ensure to enforce the laws of obedience and carry out to protect the people of this land?”

“I do.” At this very moment, you felt that sense of responsibility, you could feel the effects of the words that you were swearing, down to your very bones.

“Have you come willingly to swear this oath before me?” Sam inquired of you.

“I have, Bishop.” Your voice was steady and firm. On your knees, you kept your eye contact with him.

With James’s sword still in his grasp, Sam moved the King’s Sword to your right shoulder. Completing the orally spoken oath. He took off the sword from your right shoulder, handing it back to James. You heard James putting his sword back into the scabbard. It slid back in with a satisfying noise that made the hairs on the back of your head shoot up.

“Your Highness,” Sam’s voice reverberated in the Holy Place as he motioned for Pamela to join you on the floor.

With his right hand, he dipped his hand into the bowl of Holy Water, putting his index finger on the middle of Pamela’s forehead, making a sign of the Cross on her forehead. Then, he moved back to the altar, picking up the smaller crown.

Okay.

It was a frigging tiara.

Molded from the colors of James’s kingdom, the tiara, like the Queen’s Crown and the King’s Crown, had the ruby red jewels carefully placed on the middle of the tiara in a straight pattern all across. Underneath the pointed points on the top of the tiara that had the studded diamond gems that shimmered and reflected the light that was streaming into the cathedral.

Bishop Wilson crowned the Crown Princess. Making sure to secure it into her hair to ensure that it wouldn’t fall off, he gave her a warm smile.

Pamela beamed back at him.

Turning around and walking back up to the altar, Sam put his right hand back into the bowl of Holy Water, to soak it again for you. Then, he grabbed the Queen’s Crown.

It was in a very similar shape to the King’s Crown, but it was just a bit less heavy. Embroidered in silver, gold, and the rubies that proclaimed the crown as the Queen’s, Sam placed the crown onto your head. He made sure to adjust the crown a bit, just so it wouldn’t fall off later. Satisfied that the crown was secure, Sam made the same cross pattern on the middle of your forehead. Just like how he had done with Pamela.

“Rise,” said Sam.

“Rise, and face your people, Your Majesties.”

Grabbing a hold of your hand, Pamela and you rose at the same time, turning a whole three-sixty degrees to face the people.

Your people now.

James had moved to the other side of you. Now he stood next to you, on your right. Pamela was on your left.

In the audience, your mother dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. She was sitting in the very front row with the previous King and Queen.

“I am so happy for them,” sniffed your mother in a hushed tone to her closest friends. In their native tongue, of course.

“They do look beautiful,” Winifred acknowledged. She even had a handkerchief of her own and was dabbing at her eyes, being careful to not smudge any of the makeup she had applied on her face earlier this morning.

Bishop Wilson spoke a prayer. A prayer to God above, to pray for your safety and your transition into your new role. He prayed for your happiness.

Pamela’s as well.

Finishing the prayer, Sam then raised his hands in a motion of the cross, Sam’s crossed hands were above your heads.

Everyone in the church mirrored the motion.

“My good people of this nation,” Sam announced. Sounding as Bishop-y as he possibly already could have sounded.

“I present to you; your new Queen and Crown Princess. All hail our rulers!”

“All hail our rulers!” George, Winifred, and your mother’s voices were the first ones to echo the statement.

Then everyone else followed suit.

“All hail our new rulers!”

From where you stood, James’s hand squeezed yours. Like when you were young, you knew what he didn’t wish to speak out loud.

Thank you.

A little bit later, after the document signing with the three of you, at the wedding reception…

Modern ruler, His Majesty the King, Steven Grant Rogers stood next to Bishop Sam Wilson in the huge ballroom in the corner of the Barnes’ palace that had been decorated from top to bottom for the wedding reception.

Only other royals that had been invited to the wedding and coronation, along with the other prime ministers and other important members of the different branches of government. Important politicians and whatnot.

His kingdom, along with Bucky’s, was still a monarchy. After the death of your father, Kurt had allowed your home country to still remain a monarchy as well. But, he recently instated a Prime Minister to represent him, in the case that he could not show up for certain events.

Like today.

Prime Minister Charles Xavier bowed respectfully to the two royals and Bishop.

“Your Highness. Bishop Wilson.”

“Prime Minister.” Steve nodded his acknowledgment.

Sam was much more joyful to see the older man. “It’s good to see you, Prime Minister.”

The other man was a happier individual to be around. Even Charles enjoyed his presence. Bishop Wilson was younger than Steve only by a few years. Between him, King Steve, and King Bucky— Bucky was the eldest. Steve only was a year younger. And Sam himself was two years younger than Steve. Three younger than Bucky.

Something that Bucky relentlessly teased him about when they had been growing up together. All three of them. Nowadays, Sam would just roll his eyes.

“It was a beautiful ceremony. Although, I will confess my candor to admit that not seeing Pamela or Her Majesty in the palace will be a sour sight indeed. I did always enjoy our conversations. Pamela is very bright for her age.”

“She’ll make a great Princess,” Steve remarked.

The girl of the hour came through the doors. Pamela had changed out of her coronation gown after signing the documents that had finally, at last, proclaimed her as Crown Princess. It had been a similar one to yours, but hers hadn’t been made with satin. Her coronation dress had been made from mostly lace. But this new dress she had changed into was made of out of satin. However, she did have a sash that she held around her waist. It was made of lace, and the color was a deep burgundy shade. And, to her dismay, she was wearing heels.

Heels!

You had made her wear heels!

The smallest yet deadliest torture weapons for women everywhere!

Pamela just knew that her feet were going to be aching later.

With her chestnut hair curled into waves that fell down her back like water ripples, Pamela curtsied and thanked the people who came up to her shyly.

You and James had yet to come to the ballroom.

Which, Steve and Sam kind of struck them as odd. But considering they were aware of your shared past history, they weren’t surprised. Although, the jury was still out there to be concerned.

“… and where is your wife, Your Majesty?” Charles asked him kindly. “My wife is helping Her Highness get dressed. She insisted.” Steve spoke with a low chuckle. Mrs. Rogers had told Steve and Bucky up and down, forwards and backwards that she would be the only one to dress you up.

“I have the best creative vision out of all four of us.” Mrs. Rogers had said. With her hands on her hips and her hair tied up and out of the way— it was hard to imagine that she was actually Steve’s Queen. Also considering the fact that she dressed so normally and unlike the stiff uptight royals that ran in their similar circles.

“You mean out of the two of us,” you corrected her. “Sasha and Steve don’t have any creative bones in their body when it comes to fashion.”

“Hey!” Both men shouted in protest.

You motioned in her direction while gesturing to the boys, basically saying ‘so you see my point’, causing her to snicker in amusement.

“Let’s go and pick out a dress for you to wear!” She was absolutely chipper as she dragged you away from Bucky and Steve as the two of you began to animatedly talk about dresses.

Hushed murmurs and whispers overcame the crowd as Steve started to see people beginning to look at the entrance Pamela had just walked out of.

Briefly, even Sam wondered just what the heck people were looking at. Because he was short-sighted.

Then, when people began to filter through to make space for the newcomers, Sam saw it.

His Majesty and Her Majesty had arrived.

Seeing Bucky have his usual brooding stare wasn’t a surprise to neither Sam nor Steve. Buck looked like that all the darn time. It was something they teased him endlessly about.

However, this time around, as you had looped your arm through his, the two men could see a happy look underneath that stoic mask.

Something they hadn’t seen for a very long time.

“… Gentlemen, I fear I must take my leave.” Charles gently interjected.

“Thank you for coming, Prime Minister. I’m sure Her Majesty and the Crown Princess truly appreciated having you here. Please pass on our greetings for His Majesty Kurt.” Sam, ever the jolly man, gave him a smile and a soft head bow as Charles walked away from them.

“I told him it was a bad idea,” muttered Steve in Sam’s ear. Mrs. Rogers was behind the two royals, greeting and saying hello to politicians, rulers, and friends alike.

“Well, what would have you done in that situation? People were already beginning to put the pieces together. Her Majesty hasn’t taken a lover in over thirteen years since Barnes. It just wouldn’t make sense. The chestnut hair was a dead giveaway.” Sam was quick to retaliate, keeping the tone of his voice low so only Steve could hear.

Of course, he would have preferred for this conversation to be in quiet. In a place where no one would dare to look.

But alas, they could not. This was a very important event, and not to mention it would look bad on both of them if they just decided to dip out nowhere.

No. They needed to stay here.

For the time being, anyway.

“Look at him, Sammy. He looks like an utter and complete idiot!” Steve hissed at Sam, nudging his head in Bucky and your direction.

“He does look like an utter and complete fool. If I daresay myself.”

Both men nearly jumped at the new voice.

Your mother had avoided the huge crowd, wafting her way through with ease. She was a pro with this shit. The Queen Mother held her head up tall and confidentially as she saw her son-in-law bend down, whispering something in your ear that you gave a firm nod to in response.

“Queen Mother, I-I didn’t see you there,” Sam chuckled nervously. Your mother just waved her hand absentmindedly at him. “Ah, no one does at these events. You should have heard the gossip about me. They’re saying I’m the mother-in-law of a homewrecker now.”

“Well,” she remarked as she chewed on her green olive. Because she had snagged a martini from the bar already, and the party hadn’t even started yet. “I daresay they are not on the wrong path. My darling girl… those nine months were the hardest months of her life. What with my husband being a complete and utter son of a bitch towards me.”

The first two years that you had arrived back home, with you being pregnant with Pamela and forced by your father to no longer be in the public eye because “he didn’t want to have his disappointment showing her face around the kingdom”, along with having to deal with her late husband’s sneering remarks that you were now a disappointment to him was something that had just become white noise to her. Something she could tune out with ease. She had set you up in a cottage that was nestled in the southern border of your kingdom, with all of your things. Hell, she had even gone baby shopping with you. Buying all the necessities.

She had been there for it all. Your first ultrasound. Your first baby picture of Pamela with the ultrasound. She had been the first person to be informed personally by you that the baby was going to be a girl.

Oh! She was going to be a grandmother! She was all just so proud.

She had also been there when your mood dipped. The Royal Physician had told her it was perinatal depression. PPN for short. And then there had been the postpartum depression. Your mother had set you up with a therapist as soon as the Royal Physician had called it.

It was why for a while, she had been against this union. She had fought you tooth and nail about it, telling you that you didn’t need to go through with this, that you didn’t need to marry James again. That you definitely did not need to put yourself through hell with your former husband, because all it would cause was trouble for you both.

Your mother wasn’t blind. She wasn’t stupid either.

She had seen the looks from James. Those silent, longing looks he would give whenever you weren’t looking. Hell, he even did them while you were in the room! She did not stand for that! No, she did not! Absolutely not! How could you have not seen them?

How could you have not seen the way your husband was looking at you, even now? She had to scrunch up her face and resist the urge to call him out on his shit.

Even now, he was looking at you like you hung up the moon and the stars. The two of you had found Pamela and you were locked in a conversation with your daughter, talking to kings, queens, princesses, prime ministers, and even politicians alike. All the while James stood there, kinda looking rigid as a plank of wood. His eyes were cold and there wasn’t even a smile on his face! Absolutely none!

For the love of Holy Christ, did he ever smile?

… and then the corners of James’s lips curved up. A smile began to twitch at his lips as you gently spoke something to him.

Then he decided to start smiling.

“Despicable!” Your mother announced to King Steven and Bishop Wilson. As a hiss, so only they could hear. She angrily took a sip of her martini, something that Steve couldn’t help but snort into his palm at. It was very undignified of him, he could fully admit that.

But, the golden-haired man couldn’t help himself. He found this entire situation right now extremely amusing and quite hilarious. If he could say so himself.

“Twenty dollars says if he fucks up in six months,” Sam whispered in Steve’s ear.

“My, my, my.” teased Steve lightly. Like the little shit that he was.

“Does the Lord appreciate you with that kinda mouth?”

“I will make sure to curse you in my next prayer to the Lord, Steven.” Sam hissed back at him. Steve just chortled at him.

“But you’re on.”

And they shook on it.

Later that evening, with you and James…

You had been overwhelmed the entire night.

You truly did not know how you had done it all those years ago. Maybe it was your age finally playing catch-up with you? Maybe that was it?

Your feet were sore from all the walking around and occasionally dancing. Your hair had fallen from its hairdo and now, selective strands of your hair were falling down your face.

You also had changed out of your wedding reception dress. That dress had been placed in a box that was now in the depths of your new walk-in closet. Your heels that you had worn for the wedding ceremony and the coronation ceremony were also in the box.

You were relishing in the fact that you would not be seeing those pair of white heels anytime soon.

Hell to the fricking no. You were only going to be wearing your comfy shoes from here on out.

Now though, you and James were in your new room.

It was definitely an upgrade from James’s childhood bedroom. This new room was twice as big as his bedroom. His old bedroom was laughable compared to this one. This new bedroom, in the private apartments of the royal family, was almost like stepping into an expensive apartment in the States.

“Why didn’t you ever think about moving to the private apartments?”

You had just walked out of your new walk-in closet, deciding to just wear a regular nightgown to bed tonight. It was a sheer, cottony material. The color of dust rose, and your nipples peeked through the sheer fabric.

James looked up from where he had just finished typing an email to one of his staffers. He did notice the way your nipples peeked out, but he chose to ignore that.

He didn’t speak at first. Not until he had locked his iPad and put it on the little table that also held the lamp on his side of the bed, which was the left side.

“I never thought I fit in here.” His response was honest as he gave you a shrug.

“And now you do?” You questioned him. You still weren’t quite all that convinced.

Not really.

“No.”

That response though, well— it definitely had sent you in for a loop.

“So why are you…” you trailed off.

In response to that, James gave you another shrug. “I suppose I thought it was time to step up. I never moved in here until after my divorce with Dot. She just randomly served me the papers. I was eager to sign them. Once she was gone… there really wasn’t any point in staying in my bedroom. Too many… too many memories.”

“Just as eager as you were ready to sign our divorce papers?’

You couldn’t take back the words that came out of your mouth.

Immediately, you felt bad that your words had stung him.

However, there was a part of you that was gleeful, gazing upon at the hurt expression that had overtaken your husband’s face.

Immediately, you knew that you had overstepped a line.

Because yes, of course— in the beginnings of your pregnancy, you had felt the tremulous emotions that rolled around you as if you were on a roller coaster. Up and down your emotions had swirled around you.

You had experienced all of your emotions.

There had been that angry, fuming emotion that had thrummed through you for months. Almost like how Siths in Star Wars fueled on their hatred in order to keep them going.

Like right now.

That familiar anger reared its ugly head again and you felt those familiar emotions all bubbling up inside of you like water boiling in a big pot.

“I—“

“No.” His voice was flat. He didn’t even sound angry with you. For a moment, you really thought that he was going to be upset with you.

Instead, he sounded designated. Like he had accepted his fate.

“No. No. You’re right. I was eager to sign our divorce papers. I don’t have any excuse I can provide to plead my case, nor should I have one.”

You were shocked.

You were truly dumbfounded.

“So… you don’t regret it? Signing our divorce papers?” You breathed out.

Subconsciously, your feet had begun to move. You didn’t even realize that you were walking to the bed until it was too late. You were standing over James, looking down at him.

He looked like a fox, the way he was sprawled onto the bed without a care.

Your heart pounded in your chest as James slowly got up from his position on the bed, your brain firing at you in rapt repetition that your husband was not dressed.

Like, at all.

James was fully naked. And by the time you had realized that little golden nugget of info, he was already standing in front of you. Effectively blocking his side of the bed from you.

“Bubble,” he rumbled the familiar nickname he had blessed upon you as kids in his native tongue.

You felt the fluttering in your stomach at the pet name.

James had given it to you as a young child one day, after hearing that you had consistently begged your maid to give you bubble baths. Unlike other kids, you wanted bubble baths all the time. To the amusement of the Queen Mother, and the usual sigh of disappointment from your late father.

He thought it had been the most amusing thing ever. Steve had teased him, telling him that he was getting soft. Sam, being the utter little shit that he was, teased him that he was fostering a crush on you.

He had dismissed it at the time. Sure, you had followed him everywhere. You had been an eager little girl back then, telling him anything and everything. Always following him with your usual greeting of a soft “Sasha” before following up with asking how his day went.

James Buchanan Barnes was a lack of a better word; stupid.

Really, really, really stupid.

Something that Rebecca constantly shit on him about whenever she got the chance to see him. Mary and Frances would just simper at him. Usually in the group chat. Once again, they would be staying behind. Since Pamela was considered Crown Princess, usually the responsibility of overlooking her new nation would fall onto her shoulders, but considering the two of you were going to be leaving for your honeymoon in a month’s time, Rebecca being the second eldest Barnes would be taking care of the country while he and you were gone. Considering that Pamela was too young to be dealing with the number of affairs in the kingdom. And because she needed to be taught about her country. She even admitted as much when discussing it with her grandparents.

At least James would be safe and secure in the knowledge that when he would eventually return back to his country, that it still would be standing.

… somewhat.

He just hoped Rebecca wouldn’t do something stupid while both of you were gone, like buying a shit ton of giraffes or llamas and set them loose on the streets to run wild.

Or heaven forbid— monkeys.

Oh no.

God no.

He fucking hoped not.

“Bubble,” he spoke your nickname again in a gravelly, rough tone to garner your attention again. “There is not a day where I don’t regret signing our divorce papers. But, as I’ve thought and mulled over it for the past fourteen years, it was for the best.”

It was for the best?

That deep-seated rage that had coiled in your stomach like a snake coiling around a tree had returned.

“It was for the best?” You echoed his last sentence.

James gave you a nod.

“Pray tell me, why was it for the best?” You bit at him. You weren’t even trying to hide the venom in your voice anymore.

“Because we would have never been happy together back then.”

That sentence caused you to freeze in your tracks. Mouth agape, you watched as James’s jaw clenched.

Almost immediately, your vagina clenched. You resisted the urge to suck in a breath as your cheeks flushed. The slightest bit of color dusting on your face.

Like a predator, James’s eyes narrowed at you.

“Search deep inside of you, bubble. You know it to be true. You would have felt like a mistress to me. You would have thought of Pamela as my burden. You would have avoided me at all costs. We would have been miserable if you had stayed here.”

Everything he said was true.

Even though you felt miserable now, you would have been even more miserable had you actually stayed here. Of course, you would have tried your best to distract yourself by helping out the people and donating to the orphanages and charities to help the world be a better place.

But Pamela, with the familiar chestnut hair of your former husband, would have been too much. The presence of too many Barnes Royal Family members would have suffocated you. It would have been hell on Earth.

Leaving had been the best bet for you and James in the long run.

It had brought you some a seldom feeling of peace. Even if the pace had been consisting of an absentee father and a trying mother.

“You’re upset. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

His words sent you back to the present.

Snapping out of the sudden thoughts that had intruded your mind, you just blinked at him.

“… excuse me?” Was all that came out of your mouth.

“You’re upset,” repeated James gently. “Do you want me to make you feel better?”

You were feeling conflicted.

Because while your brain had short-circulated and wasn’t jumping at you with a clear response, your pussy was definitely screaming yes yes yes at you.

With your breath caught in your throat, you didn’t say anything.

Not at first.

Then—

“I-I… u-um…” the words tumbled, fumbled out of your mouth. Even twisted. Your words probably made you look like a gaping fish.

Finally, a noise just came out of you.

And then, things just became worse.

Or, at least better in James’s honest opinion.

Cause just then, he got down to his freaking knees. Your mouth fell down in unabashed shock as your eyes became wide as saucers, as the reality finally sunk in of what he was about to do.

Was he… was he really going to go down on you?

Yes, as you watched him gently grab a hold of the sheer material of your nightgown, gently pushing it up to expose your already glistening cunt to him.

You heard him sharply intake a deep breath. You saw his body visibly shudder as his hands trembled just the slightest bit.

Sucking in his bottom lip, James bit on it a little bit, trying to desperately keep himself under control.

Becca was right.

He really did need to be kept on a leash.

“We don’t— he swallowed nervously. “… we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Already, thoughts were shooting off in your head like you were watching a tennis match.

Your head and your kitty were definitely telling you yes.

Your heart, however, was deeply at the fence. Your heart felt uncertain about this.

Your heart didn’t know how to feel.

But, you swallowed that feeling of your heart being in the midst. Instead, you gave him a nod.

“Words,” whispered James.

“I need your words.”

“Yes.” The words trembled, nay, fumbled from your own lips as James watched you from down below. On his knees. Grasping the skirt of your nightgown gently, because he wasn’t in the mood to rip anything.

Not today, at least.

When his mouth found and latched onto your clit, his lips wrapping around it, a gasp shuddered its way down your body.

You cried out.

Your hands sank into his chestnut locks, gripping his hair.

Beneath you, James just happily made a humming noise while he sucked on your clit. Swirling his tongue around the little nub. Every little suck that did he made your toes curl and the pitch of your voice become higher.

You couldn’t form any type of words. The only things that came out of your mouth were mewls, moans, and gasps. Frantically clutching at his hair. You were probably grasping his hair so tight that James, if he wasn’t so focused on bringing you to your peak, probably would have hissed under the intensity of how hard you were gripping his hair underneath your fingers.

Your legs nearly collapsed underneath you when your orgasm came, the pleasure overtaking your senses. Colors exploded behind your eyes as you shut them tight. That white-hot coil snaked around in your stomach as your mouth fell open.

For a moment, your legs trembled.

Your thighs quaked.

And then, something snapped inside of you.

Like a switch being turned on.

A moment of clarity, maybe?

Possibly.

Your voice was firm.

“Up.”

James’s gaze whipped up to you so fast.

Surprise, bewilderment, shock— these were the only emotions he felt swirling around inside of him.

He was taken aback.

You looking were looking down at him with an expression in your eyes that he couldn’t explain. He couldn’t quite describe what you were looking at him within this very moment.

There was a part of him that enjoyed seeing you in this kind of position. If people didn’t think that you looked like a queen then, in front of all of the people—

You did now.

To him, at least.

“Do I have to tell you again?” Your voice broke him out of his stupor.

“Up.”

Never had he scrambled up to his feet so fast. A grunt was expressed from your husband as your hand shot out, grabbing his bicep.

His bicep!

You had grabbed him!

You!

James was rendered too stunned to speak.

And then you told him something, he only really had caught the words of “turn around” before doing just that.

Then all of a sudden, his back fell onto the bed with a soft thud.

He had never been as thankful as he was in this very moment, seeing you crawl on top of him and that the walls were soundproof.

You were like a cat, the way you had crawled on top of him with ease.

However, your heart was pounding in your chest.

You had no idea just what the hell had come over you. But in this new position, there was something thrumming underneath your fingertips. Like an itch that desperately needed to be taken care of.

Unlike your first wedding night with James, this was different.

You weren’t on top of him.

Oh no.

You were below him.

He was on top of you.

Looking down at you with those striking blue eyes that you had been in love with since forever.

If you weren’t so consumed with the current feeling of nervousness, you probably would have been trying to feel better.

But you weren’t.

You were nervous. Terrified. Scared.

But you had allowed him to kiss you. At the very least. The kiss had been nice. As kisses could go, really. He was a better kisser than the boys you had kissed when you were younger. Before you married James, at least.

James hadn’t been your first kiss. It had been one of the other princes when you had been young. It was a haste, giggled thing. You remembered it had been wet. And then afterward, he hadn’t spoken to you again.

At least James was looking down at you. Asking if you were comfortable. To which, you gave him a nod and said yes.

Taking that as his initiative to move forward, his lips moved further down your body, soft little kisses being pressed down your neck.

A gasp fell from your lips when his lips wrapped around a dark nipple. His tongue stroked, licked, and rolled around the dark nub. You squirmed underneath him a little, which led him to gently hush you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured to you.

“Just relax.”

Down below him, your body tightened up a little bit, before you relaxed.

A sudden cry filled the room.

All of a sudden, his mouth had dipped lower. Much lower. From your stomach, all the way down to your quivering, aching, wet pussy.

Your breaths became shallow as your gaze lowered to where his destination lay.

His hands reached up, gently resting on your inner thighs before he gently spread your legs apart, the sounds of your soft, shallow breathing the only thing he could hear— other than the frantic thumping of his own heartbeat.

“You aren’t wet or stretched out enough.”

His rough voice made you confused.

“I’m… what?”

Once again, his gaze rose to meet yours.

“Your mother never told you how sex works?” he asked you.

“I mean,” you nervously swallowed, “… she told me how my period works. She told me to just… lay back. Relax. That it would be okay. Just to…” your voice trailed off. You felt so uneasy, and it showed on your face. You looked so awkward, so meek. It reminded James that you were indeed, a virgin. He suspected much. You had always looked so nervous when the topic had been brought up. Your cheeks would flush, and your voice would go up a pitch.

It was official.

He was going to have a stern talking with your mother.

For the love of the Creator!

How could your mother tell you about your period but not how sex worked?

His heart went out to you.

James knew he didn’t love you. He cherished the friendship he had with you. Of course. He really did. You were a good friend. However, if he could have chosen to marry you, he probably wouldn’t. This was his duty. This was what he was supposed to do. Even if his heart belonged to someone else.

“You aren’t supposed to just lay there. It’s supposed to be just as pleasurable for me as it is for you.” He told you in a no-nonsense tone.

That had you scrambling to sit up a little.

“P… Pleasurable? For me?”

He almost sighed in frustration.

If he was ever crowned King, he would make it a federal LAW that ALL women across the country would be given proper sexual education. The men, too. Has this how your parents had run their country, leaving their citizens puzzled and scattered about how sex worked?

Heaven above help him, James felt as if he was about to have a stroke.

But, he elected to be patient with you. You were one of his most treasured friends. In his little inner circle of friends.

“I don’t know why she told you to just lay there and take it,” he snapped. “Because you aren’t,” he continued. “It should be just as pleasurable for you as it would be for me. That’s why we do it in the first place.”

As you looked up at him, with those eyes that showed just how vulnerable and inexperienced you really were—

… his heart went out to you.

As he laid there, down below you. Happily pinned down there. Loyal as a dog to its master. Ready to receive any orders. He was ready.

Those same eyes that shone with their vulnerability shone in his eyes. You remembered it like it was yesterday.

“Did you know you weren’t my first kiss?”

An eyebrow raise was all you had gotten from James for that statement.

“… It was one of the other Prince’s that I knew,” you admitted to him. “We were both young and stupid. All I remember was… well... it was really wet.” You scrunched up your nose in pure and utter disgust at the memory as James chuckled, amused with your tale.

“But—“ you continued, much to his chagrin. “You were my first.” You told him. “And even though we… had our issues…” you didn’t pretend like you didn’t miss seeing that look flash over his face— “… I don’t think there would be anyone else I would have thought about losing it to. Out of every man I knew… I’m glad it was you. You treated me right. Even if… you know.”

You didn’t dare to speak the words out loud.

Somewhere deep inside of you, that old part of you that still lingered inside of you— ached. It hurt. It made your chest seize up.

The silence that stretched around the room made it perfectly one-hundred percent clear who and what you were talking about.

“Do you still think about her?” Your voice was soft.

“No.” His answer was quick and swift.

“Do you still think about… my first time? With you?” Your voice was getting higher now. Slowly but surely, you began to feel like that nervous, flighty young girl you had been all those years ago.

“Do you want my honesty?” he murmured in your ear.

“Always.” Your voice was like a haunted whisper. It made him shudder with want. Desire. He could feel his arousal

Your tongue came to dart out, so you could lick your lips.

“I don’t think about it as often as I should.”

Those words spurred you.

They spurred you into a frenzy.

Cause all of a sudden, your hands were grasping the sides of his face—

… and then you were kissing him.

You! You were actually kissing him!

If you hadn’t been so focused on kissing him, you probably would have been too busy… doing something else. Right! That’s right!

Sure, that little voice in your head snickered.

You elected to ignore said snickering voice in your head.

One of James’s hands had snuck behind you, reaching up to finally grasp the soft cottony material with the vigor that he had wanted to do earlier.

Tug. Tug. Tug. Tug.

He tugged, pushed, shoved, and lifted the flimsy material up and over your body. It rendered you completely nude above him. Where he tossed it, you really had no idea.

“… You’re not telling me that to just make me feel better, right?”

This time, it was James’s turn to look confused. He looked confused, bewildered even before he opened his mouth to speak.

“No? Why would I?” was his reply to you. He still looked confused.

“Because… you’re more experienced than I am?” Your voice was full of disbelief as you looked at him, unconvinced.

“Do you think I only said that to make myself feel better?” James countered. Much to your slight annoyance, if you were being quite honest.

“Considering my sexual education is lacking, why wouldn’t you teach me how it is done, Your Highness?”

James was stunned.

Who knew that you had a mouth on you?

Certainly not him.

Never in a million years would he have ever seen this before! Ever!

In reality, you were just being sarcastic.

Because yes, there was a little part of you that was always envious that the boys around you were given a proper sexual education while you had been left to dry.

The nerves crept back up to you.

You suddenly felt it again.

The nervousness.

“Fine,” his voice had dropped to a soft murmur that made an electric feeling run down your body.

“I’ll teach you. Keep your legs spread open.”

Obliging to his wishes, you kept your legs open. Watching as his face disappeared back between them, you let out a gasp when his tongue flicked your clit. A whimper probably came from you too.

Again and again, over and over, his tongue gave experimental licks and flicks to your clit with the tip of his tongue. Every little noise you made told James that he was doing something right. And when his tongue fully sank inside of you, going past your slit— he tasted it.

Your arousal was everywhere.

On his tongue.

On his lips.

Some had even gotten on his beard that he had been growing out. His mother, Queen Winifred just sighed at his new appearance with the facial hair her son had decided to grow. James could tell his mother enjoyed it when he was clean-shaven. One of the other queen’s mother’s definitely agreed with that statement. Queen Nera, whose family was from Laos, a small little place that was nestled within Vietnam in Asia. Her mother had bluntly said that his beard made him look like and quote, “A hobo.” Her Majesty the Queen Nera had to apologize for her mother’s candor.

“Mom!” Nera had hissed in their native tongue. “That’s a frigging Prince you just insulted! For the love of our ancestors! If you’re gonna talk shit, do it in private and not in English!”

“What?” Nera’s mother had responded back to her daughter in their native tongue. “He does look like a hobo. Be happy your husband doesn’t grow out a beard Blossom. He’ll become a hobo too, just like His Majesty King Steve.”

James remembered Nera flushing so many colors. Truly, she appeared as if she had gone through the seven stages of grief in ten seconds.

“I’ll grow a beard just to spite her,” King Lance Tucker, her husband muttered in her ear. And then Nera just looked at her husband and smiled.

Just like how he had done when he had found your g-spot. His fingers had penetrated inside of you, filling you up as you let out a gasp of surprise. Your hands were gripping the bedsheets so tight that your knuckles were turning white. If you hadn’t been so focused on being in the moment, you probably would have focused on the realization that your knuckles were about to pop by how hard you were holding onto the bedsheets.

His fingers stretched and hooked inside of you, his knuckles brushing up against your pussy lips as you bit down harshly on your bottom lip. You bit it so hard that you were pretty positive that it started to bleed.

“You’re too tense,” James murmured in your ear. “Just relax. Unclench your thighs. There you go…” he hummed when you unclenched your thighs. You felt so tense. This was such an odd, different, foreign feeling for you.

You never had felt like this before.

It was weird.

Really weird.

But, you did what he said. Unclenching your thighs, you took in a deep breath. James saw the way your chest heaved up and down.

Like now.

Even if the positions were changed, and you were topping and he was bottoming— nothing had changed. You still looked nervous. Your chest was still moving up and down as your eyes were full of that same nervousness that had consumed you on your first wedding night with James.

He picked up on it.

Oh yes, he did.

“Been awhile?”

The joyful tone in his voice made you look down, peer your eyes down at his face really.

Your eyebrows furrowed together. Scrunched together, really.

“Yes,” you admitted truthfully. “I’m really picky with partners. And you know… people really don’t want damaged goods.”

People really don’t want damaged goods.

“You’re damaged goods now,” your father’s words echoed in your head when you told him about your pregnancy.

“… and no one wants damaged goods.”

It was why you had abstained from getting with other men.

Because in a way, (a shitty, self-hatred admitted way), your father was right.

The divorce had soured both of your reputations. And your father’s, as well as George’s. Sure, some might have disagreed, saying that it had been James’s reputation that had tanked the most. The tabloids had certainly gone out of their way to do so. Such a scandal was very detrimental that caused his good reputation to be smeared and any goodwill about him plummeted faster than Han Solo’s dead body on Starkiller base in Star Wars: The Force Awakens.

And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been whiny misogynistic men who criticized you and mocked me. Because there had been men like that who had done just that.

People really don’t want damaged goods.

Your words echoed in his mind as James’s face all of a sudden became hard.

Hard as granite, maybe? Was that the right way to describe his face? Maybe marble?

… or was that the same thing?

Either way, he looked pretty pissed off.

“Who told you that?” He demanded.

“W-What?” Was all that spluttered out of your mouth.

“Who told you that!” He exclaimed at you loudly, making you jump. It hadn’t been good for either of you. Your body jerked upward, before bouncing back on him like you were a bouncy ball.

“For the love of fucking Jesus Christ, Sasha!” You screeched at him. “Warn a girl before you yell in her face!”

It totally killed the moment.

Mood officially killed.

You had to breathe in order to get your head back on straight. You had to take in a few deep breaths in order to finally feel like you were at least feeling okay again.

You had to remind yourself that this was James. Sasha. He would keep you safe.

When you felt his fingers unclench from where he was, his fingers deep inside of you knuckle-deep, you might have let out a whimper.

Then, the sounds of him pumping his fingers in and out of you filled your ears. Every thrust sent your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You tried your best to not allow your body to jerk around, but alas. It was not meant to be.

Cause while James was busy pumping his fingers in and out of like it was nobody’s business, you on the other hand, well—

Your body was being the worst person it could be in this moment. Every thrust of his fingers had your body jerking. Your legs would bounce, and your tittes… were actually better than you thought they would be.

Because James was so close to you, practically keeping you caged in while performing his ministrations on you, his body was pressed tightly and tautly against you. His body was effectively keeping you in place, so your breasts were pressed against his.

And when his fingers brushed up against your g-spot, a white-hot, coiling feeling erupted in your belly like fireworks going off.

You cried out.

Above you, James swore loudly as he felt your vaginal walls clench around him. Your walls clenched around his fingers so beautifully and tightly that he swore to himself as he watched how your face scrunched up when you came.

Your mouth opened in a perfect O. Your legs trembled. Bright lights exploded behind your eyelids when you shut your eyes tight. Your knuckles nearly popped, but for some odd reason, they didn’t.

For a moment, James thought you were the most exquisite thing he had ever seen.

An odd, twisting feeling spread through his chest as he watched you come down from your orgasmic high.

… just where the hell had that feeling come from?

Something inside James snapped.

Because he said those words to you again. He quite literally repeated his words, and they did not help your increasingly horrid emotions.

“My father! It was my fucking father!” You screamed at him. Your eyes were blazing. You felt livid. You nearly saw pure unfiltered red. Your head pounded, and your ears were roaring.

It was in that very moment, that James thanked every goddamn motherfucking star in the galaxy, even God himself that your father was indeed six feet under.

Your father’s funeral had been a really huge deal. It had been big as hell. People from all over the world had come to mourn the former King. You, Pamela, and your mother had been in mourner’s clothing as you watched the man that had made your life a literal living hell for fourteen long years was finally laid to rest. You no longer had to see him wherever you would be in the palace. You no longer had to hear his voice in the palace either. Your mother had gotten rid of his paintings, putting them in the storage wing, with the rest of his shit.

For a moment, there was a feeling that had run through you as you came to the realization that for the first time in your godforsaken life—

You were finally free.

With that echoing in his mind, his hands came to grasp your face.

Something stopped him.

That something, being you.

What an abominable force of nature you were, truly. Your mother would’ve been proud.

You reacted first.

You slapped his hands away.

You!

You actually slapped his hands away!

Never had he ever been filled with such rage before!

You were driving him utterly insane at this moment!

James had half an urge to nearly flip the two of you over so that he could be on top, but the look in your eyes stopped him.

It made him freeze in his tracks like a deer in headlights. His eyes became wide as he gaped up at you.

“If you want to fuck me, you ask. Nicely.”

Your voice dripped with venom as you seethed your words out.

“Let me fuck you.”

“Say please.”

James had fingered you two more times.

Or was it three?

No. It was two. You were certain it was two.

Body nearly fallen slack into the bedsheets, you heard him moving above you.

“Stay still,” his rough voice filled your ears.

You heard a sort of slicking noise. A squishing noise. And then something pointy poked at your inner thigh.

You were so confused.

Really. The nuns probably would have taken you in at this point. Whole-heartedly, you presumed.

But, you heeded James’s advice.

You stayed still.

Your legs were still spread.

Just then, you felt it.

Something sliding inside of you.

A gasp spewed from your lips. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened again, curling your palms into fists as your body tried to frantically figure out this new feeling.

It was then, that you realized that James had been right.

Stretching you out three times had been the right call.

Because as James continued to push inside of you, little groans and grunts slipping from his lips as he deeply inhaled, the feeling of you all around him ceasing his thoughts to a mere whisper— he was finding it very hard to picture Dot in your place like how he had originally planned.

His self-control was slipping faster than the damn sinking of the Titanic.

When James finally pushed through and broke your hymen, it didn’t hurt as much as you heard other girls who had been your age growing up gossip.

Because again; stretching you out.

It was an odd, strange feeling. Having someone's penis inside of you. It wasn’t something you were used to, like when you masturbated. Which was far in between.

“Feels good?” His voice was rough.

“Yeah,” came your soft whisper.

“You want me to move?”

“… Please.”

“Say it again.” Your voice came out gritted.

“Let me fuck you.” He repeated.

“Please.”

The straw that broke the camel’s back finally broke.

Lifting up your thighs, your hand wrapped his shaft, even though you knew it didn’t fit.

He was just that freaking big.

Still, even after all this time— it was proving to be over time and time again that steadily, even now, the fact that your husband (for the second time in a row), was as big as he was.

Even though he radiated big dumbass energy.

Slowly pushing your legs forward so they could be sinking down so that your legs could be bent down, you eased yourself down on him.

Down below you, James screwed his eyes shut and groans and grunts, similar to the same exact noises he had made during your wedding night emerged.

They echoed in your ears like a prayer. A chant of some sort.

Except, you didn’t feel like a goddess above him. You didn’t feel worshipped.

After what seemed like an eternity, you had finally fit all of him inside of you. It had been a tedious process.

Honest to fuck, you still had no clue how you had gotten him to fit.

Forget that one time when he had guided you through how to suck his dick while the two of you had still been married.

Forget it!

This was worse!

Between James’s eyes that were looking up at you in pure determination, or the way that his face had looked like it had rolled over in pleasure at the very feeling of being so snugly fit inside of you—

You didn’t know how to feel.

He, however— did.

The first thrust upward had been sudden. It caused a surprised gasp to come out of you.

You were shell-shocked. Truly taken aback for words!

And then he did it again.

A startled cry tumbled out of your mouth this time, and your hands had to grab onto his shoulders as you fell forward a little.

It made you, no, forced you to look into his eyes.

“You… you son a—“

James’s growing smirk elicited quite the response from you. It made you splutter in the middle of your sentence.

With your hands gripping his shoulders, you rubbed up against him, causing his body to jerk back in surprise.

“Shit,” was all that came out of him as a strangled gasp.

You couldn’t explain the feelings that were rolling around in your stomach like marbles being thrown onto the floor and rolling away.

You could not.

You simply could not.

All you could focus on was how good his cock felt when you dragged along his cock and rubbed up against it felt.

His hands came up to roughly grab a hold of your breasts, making you cry out. Cause Jesus, he had a tough grip on them.

Your brain was feeling like utter mush as all you could do was bounce yourself on his dick like your life fucking depended on it.

“Fuck… your pussy feels so good,” James gritted out, moving his hands from your breasts to your ass, pushing you down. Shoving you down onto him, chest-to-chest.

“Sometimes I’d wish you just shut up,” you bit back at him.

“Yeah? Make me,” he taunted you back in kind.

Snapping your hips against him, James choked on thin air when your pussy fully sank onto his erection again. Just the feeling of you made the air nearly kick out of his chest.

He was moving.

James was pressed against you, chest-to-chest. He slid in and out of you, pumping his erection inside of you.

Wet, slapping noises, and the sensation of your arousal and his come trickled and smeared on your inner thighs.

Again and again, you heard the echoing sounds of skin against skin, over and over like someone uttering a prayer.

And that was before you had decided to wrap around legs around him, pushing him down you even further.

It led to him pushing, pumping, thrusting into you deeper. Every thrust hit that spongy spot inside of you, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

One, two, three, four more thrusts and you came.

It was quick.

It was strong.

It made your legs shake, and tremble.

It made your breath tremble as you heard James grunt above you as he came inside of you.

James hadn’t been thinking.

He hadn’t.

He had come inside of you without thinking.

By the time he realized it, it was too late.

Although, as he watched your breathing return to normal, a small smile appeared on your face, as you whispered two words.

“Thank you.”

It was then, that the realization finally sank in for him.

He had come inside of you.

He had actually come inside of you!

But, as he watched you doze off, he couldn’t help himself.

This one time… this one time, coming inside of you… it wouldn’t hurt.

It would just be this once.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” came out of you in gasps.

“Feels so good when your dick does that…” you couldn’t help but whine.

Up and down your body bounced on him. Every drag of his cock inside you really made your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Your pussy feels so good…” James managed to say through grunts. Every bounce of your body that led to him feeling you sink your pussy down onto your cock, his mouth opened in a shudder.

“… shit… think I’m gonna come,” you shuddered in between whimpers.

“S’ okay, bubble,” James murmured in your ear.

“Let go, bubble. Come for me, bubble.”

Your orgasm caused you to scream so loud that you were pretty positive that the servants and probably everyone else in the palace heard you.

Bright colors exploded behind your eyelids as you shut your eyes tight because your orgasm was so intense.

Your legs trembled as James continued to thrust up above you, now that you weren’t in control anymore. His thrusts continued the sloppy, wet, sucking noises that echoed around in the room before he came.

Coming with a grunt, shudders spluttered out of his mouth. Sweat covered his forehead as he slowly came back to the present.

Just like your wedding night, the reality sank in for him.

“Wait… were you… were you on…”

“No.”

Slowly, you lifted your legs again, pulling yourself off of him. A deep groan rumbled from James as you moved to lay down next to him in bed.

“I’m clean, though,” you added. “But I’m not on birth control. I don’t have an IUD in me, either.”

“Oh.”

You gave him an inquiring look. “Why? You want more kids?”

“I mean…” James swallowed nervously, “… it wouldn’t hurt. Having more kids. I think… it would be good… to have more heirs. I-I’d respect your decision if you don’t want more.”

To that, you made a noise.

“I’ll think about it.” Was what all that you said before you relaxed.

Then, you yawned. Your eyes drooped, and you closed your eyes.

Because you were so sleepy, you didn’t notice that James had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him.

Nuzzling your face into his neck, you mumbled something before you fell asleep.

Not that James really caught it.

All he could focus on was how good you felt next to him.

For a moment, he could admit that for the first time in forever, he was alright.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting, @greeneyedblondie44, @hawsx3, @sunflowerfive

#king!bucky barnes x princess!asian!reader #king!bucky barnes x princess!reader #bucky barnes x asian!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction

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sebastianstansqueen · 2 years

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A Beautiful, Terrible Thing Epilogue

A/N: The end of this series that took more than half a year for me to finish wow! My next story is going to be a Pretty Woman Au so look out for that! As always Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,262

Warnings: Fluff! Smut, and thats it nothing else really just a happy ending.

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Tags:@cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel -@ginger-swag-rapunzel - @brownlee-22 - @vicmc624 - @austynparksandpizza - @calwitch - @dontbescaredtosingalong -

Seven Years Later

Y/n currently chased a young girl through the halls of the castle. “Come on Lilly, let’s just get you in your dress, and then get this dinner over with.” The Queen sighed in slight ehxsation.

“No!” The child yelled then continued running, but was soon picked up and stopped, Y/n looked up at who picked up her second youngest child.

“Thank god’s Sam.” She smiled at the now twentie-year-old, who Bucky and she decided to take in the young boy, mainly because Bucky couldn’t say no to her when she explained what had happened, the fact that Y/n became very paternal over him in a short time.

He smiled back at The Queen, he still called her Y/n, not ever feeling quite comfortable with calling her mom or mother, he turned to the young girl fighting in his arms. “Lilly, be good for your mother.” He told her.

“I don’t wanna!” She whined.

He arched a brow. “You don’t want to go to dinner?” She simply shook her head. “Your uncle will be there along with your cousin, and other kids your age, you’ll have fun. It's not as bad as you think, you should go with your mom and get ready, besides I think it’s important that a princess such as yourself is there.”

“You go then.” She pouted. He shook his head. “I will if you do.”

She turned to look at her mother and huffed, and was put back on the ground as the little girl marched away towards her room. “Thank you.” Y/n said.

“You're welcome, she’d go to that dinner if she knew I was gonna be there.” He said cockily, then his cocky facad melted and he looked like he was about to blush. “Is Rebecca going to be at the dinner?”

Y/n smiled knowing he had a crush on your sister inlaw since he was young. “Yeah she is, and she’s going to be moving back here she is going to be the new advisor.”

Sam looked at her with furrowed brows. “What’s going to happen to Phastos?”

“Phastos wanted to spend more time with his husband and son.” Y/n told him. “You need to go get ready and I have to get myself and Lilly ready.”

He ran away with excitement, Y/n just laughed softly before heading to the five-year-old's room, Y/n walked in to find the room in complete disarray with dresses everywhere. “What are you doing?” Y/n asked the stuped looking child.

“I don’t wanna wear a dress mama.” She huffed.

Y/n picked her up. “What else are you going to wear?” Y/n asked.

“Clothes like Sam’s or papa’s.” She scrunched up her nose.

Y/n looked at her. “Lilly we can’t have new clothes made last minute, wear a dress for tonight then we can have those made for you.”

She huffed. “Okay.”

“Thank you, find which one you wanna wear.” Y/n told her, once the girl finally found something she liked Y/n got her ready.

Y/n went back to her chambers when she found Bucky. “Lilly is going to be the death of me.” Y/n told him.

“What’s going on?” The King asked.

“She doesn't want to wear dresses anymore, which is fine, but I don’t wanna waste money that we should help the people with.” She sighed, she had been getting undressed as she spoke.

She turned to look at her husband who looked at her with a hungry lust, Bucky pulled her to him, he kissed her neck. “Bucky we can't have dinner.”

“Your brother can wait.” He huffed.

Bucky pulled her with him to the bed, he pulled his clothes off. “God’s your fucking gorguse.” Bucky’s hands softly caressed her body, the metal hand softly caressed her breast, the cold metal making her niples erect under the cool touch, then he slowly slid into her, he rocked in and out of her. “Fuck Y/n you feel so good.”

Y/n rocked against his pelvis slowly. “Oh god’s Bucky.” She moaned.

Bucky combed his hand through her hair and pulled on it gently on, he moved up to kiss her lips which started to swell. Her breasts pushed against his chest, he flipped her over so that he was no top of her now, he worked mules and moans though her lips, and she did the same with him. She always managed to work his orgasmim out of him first. He slowly did the same with her slowly rubbing at the bud of nerves between her legs.

“You're going to make wanting to go to that dinner even harder now.” She sighed, after hitting her high.

She sulked getting out of the bed, Bucky followed suit with her, Y/n got dressed in a blue short sleeve dress, The King and Queen made their way to the dining room. “It’s about time.” Tony scoffed jokingly when seeing his sister.

“Good to see you too Tony.” She hugged her brother.

It was pleasant to see everyone come together again seven years after the battle, now being called the war won in a day. The celebration lasted most of the night, but Y/n left earlier than most of the people, she led the children back to there room’s, she put her youngest Rose who’s two, to bed first, she was relatively easy to get to sleep, then Lilly, who also refused to want to lay down claiming she wasn't sleepy, but once in pajamas and in bed fell asleep, and then her only son Bastian he was six, and he didn’t complain as much as his younger sibling, but he really wanted to stay up and be with the adults, but Y/n claimed to him that he would one day be able to. And then her eldest another daughter, Yelena, she was seven and she didn’t want help being tucked in, but she did request one thing from her mother. “Tell me the story, mama, I promise I’ll stay awake for it this time.” She begged as she did every night.

Y/n nodded, though knowing she would, she started. “Sir Rhodey stood in the castle shooting range, my younger brother, Aron, the youngest prince of the Stark family, the young boy was holding the arrow and bow, I smirked when he missed the target, Rhodey sent a glare at me. “It’s alright young Prince Aron, you just need more training, don’t listen to your sisters snickering.” Rhodey’ hand was on Aron’s shoulder. The dark curls of my brother shook as he nodded. “Yes, Sir Rhodey.” Then he turned and stuck his tongue out at me.” The young girl giggled at her mothers words. “I stood with a look of determination on my face, I marched towards my brother, and took the bow, and an arrow out of his quiver, the cool air of the ocean cut through my hair as I pulled back the arrow on the string. “Princess.” Rhodey Said close to my ear as a hushed warning knowing if any one saw me do what I was thinking about doing I would be in a load ton of trouble. I released the arrow anyway and it hit the center spot on the target. My lip twitched and pulled into a smirk.”

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1800jjbarnes · 10 months

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𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

【Synopsis】 : You were the youngest of three princesses, and your parents were being paid off from another kingdom in order to marry the cruel, cold king. But the upside, he doesn't seem so cruel...ish

『Word count』 : 1.7k

-> Genre: Suggestive, Fluff, Angst. Royal Au.

Paring: King!Bucky x Queen!Reader

[Warnings] : Steve touching Readers Thigh to rile up Bucky. Mentions about past, fingering, making out, pet names. Use of the name slut. Dom Possessive Bucky with a side of Bratty Reader.

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It was only the biggest event in the history of the kingdom. The lonely prince that became king from a tragic event, James Buchanan Barnes, finally is wedded. His uncle finally persuaded him to get married. Married for money, that is. James still remembers when his mother would tell him stories about finding his true love as she did with his father. The love was unbreakable and unconditional. But time caught up, love became a myth, and James was alone. That was until he saw you. You were like an angel amongst men, as cheesy as that might sound. You were perfect, and then you were with him. But not the way he wanted you. He wanted to court you first, swoon you, pick you up off your feet. Have real love, but an arranged marriage doesn’t really scream true love.

So here he sat, on one of the garden chairs, watching as his brothers. Well, his knights that serve under his court. A bond fire blazing, wine, and food arrayed over the large marble table. James ordered for no one to bother him or his knights while they were out, leaving him in peace and quiet for a moment. You, his wife, sat on your chair, alone, away from everyone, watching the knights dance and sing. He watched you from afar, his heart was beating so fast, he wanted to get to know you, to really love you. But you definitely weren’t happy about the marriage, then again, you weren’t happy with your life in general.

Your kingdom was small but had power. Your parents were strict, rude, and cruel. They didn’t care about anything but the kingdom. You were the youngest of three, so you were never going to be queen in your kingdom. But that made you happy. You wanted to run away, live in the woods, be free, and being the youngest made that possible. That was until your parents sold you, so your kingdom could grow. You hated James because he agreed. You hated James because even despite all the weeks you’ve spent as his wife, you were falling in love with him. His smile, his charm, the way he would do anything to please you even if he doesn’t directly say it or do anything.

But you still hated him, and for that, so you sit alone, watching all the boys have their fun. Steve was the first to move away from the group, taking a seat down next to you. You could smell the moonshine on his breath. His smile was gloriously plastered on his face. You smiled back as he picked up a conversation. You were vaguely listening though, as you catch your eyes on Bucky. He was staring directly at you and the flirtatious male that sits beside you. You turn your attention completely on Steve, touching his shoulder, giggling at his stories, giving James a show.

His hand landed on your thigh. It was merely innocent, but to James, it was like Steve just declared war. You continued this array of flirts and quiet whispers, making sure to glance over at Bucky every now and again. He was furious, holding his drink tight in his grip. His knuckles turn white, and his strength gets the better of him, shattering the glass in his grip. Silence fell seeing the glass everywhere.

“Y/n…” His voice was low, filled with anger. You’ve never heard him like this before, and it turned you on. But you stayed strong, not moving an inch from your spot. The others, however, moved away from you quickly, standing behind the king. Even if they were brothers and Bucky treated them like equals, they knew not to get in his way when he was mad.

“Y/n….Now!” He stormed past you towards the garden entrance back into the castle. You gulped, maybe you went over the edge. But you were here now. So you got up from your spot and quickly left the knights without a goodbye. Since spending your time exploring the estate, you already knew where James would be. Coming face to the dark spruce door, you knock before entering. You see the fireplace was lit. The room was warm from the flame. He sat on the deep blue velvet couch, sipping a neat glass of scotch.

“Your grace…” You whisper, stepping closer.

“I’ve told you before, call me James. I’m your husband, not some god for you to worship…” He spat out the last bit of his sentence, feeling tired of people grovelling at his feet.

“But you are my King, James.” Your words hit him straight in the gut, making him have a low growl. You sat down on the end of the couch, leaning against the arm of it. You place your legs up, feeling the velvet on the souls of your feet. He watches you like you were his prey, placing his glass down, he chuckles lightly.

“I’d watch what you say, doll face. You’re on thin ice after the stunt you pulled tonight.” His eyes were red, filled with rage, or was it desire?

“Ah My lord got his panties in a twist because he’s not getting his way.” You giggled, slipping off your shall that sat on your shoulders, no longer needing it to keep warm. He clicks his tongue before grabbing your ankle, yanking you towards him. You yelp as he situates you on his lap, gripping tight on your ass under your loose nightdress.

“You don’t want to piss me off, my Queen. I don’t think you’ll like me when I’m mad.” He grunts, his lips, mere inches from yours. You feel his breath pool on your skin, shivering at his touch. Butterflies burst in your tummy, forcing a whimper to spill from your mouth.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I can feel your body burning. My, My, you’re just a slut. A brat needing to be put in her place.” He grunted, feeling your hips slide long his clothed crotch. He bites your ear, licking your hot skin down your jaw to your neck. A gasp leaves you as he roughly bites on your flesh, leaving a hot, red mark. You grip his shoulders as his arms snake around your waist, trapping you on him. Your hips move faster, and the need to feel pleasure tugging with great force.

“J-James…” You mewled, gripping the fabric.

“I thought it was Lord? Or King? Where did my Bratty doll go?” He chuckled, pleased with how obedient you’ve become from only just a small amount of pleasure.

“Bucky…” You replied, whimpering. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks before letting them go to give it a hard slap.

“Oooh Bucky? That’s a new one.” He laughed, sounding like he mocked you. His hand lifted up your dress completely, exposing your bottom half. Your skin prickled at the air, hitting it while his hands massaged the flesh. His mouth attached to your neck again, falling down to the top of your exposed breast, leaving marks to contrast your skin.

One of his hands glide up your thigh until it sat in between your bodies. His long fingers, press down on your clit through your panties, making you whimper. He chuckled as he rubs circles, feeling a wet patch growing on the pink lace.

Before he continued, you sat up, placing your hands on his chest. Looking into his eyes, he looked up at you. You looked so vulnerable, so innocent, so….sad… He suddenly felt guilt, placing his hand that sat on your ass to the side of your face, rubbing his thumb over your lips. You lent into his touch, feeling safe with him. Your past was filled with lies, hatred, and yet the minute you were forced to be married to someone you didn’t even know. It was the happiest day of your life.

“I-…I do love you, James.” You spoke up, making him wide-eyed. “The moment I saw you I knew you were kind, loving…I might not have wanted to marry you at first, but I don’t regret it…” This was the first time you had a conversation about your marriage with him. Normally, you both brushed off the conversation, not wanting to make each other uncomfortable. He let out a sigh, dropping his hand from your cheek, leaning his head back on the couch before sitting up to look at you again.

“I feared you’d hate me for what we went through…..” His voice became soft, no longer the grunt, gravel that it was prior, “You are the most caring person I’ve ever met, I didn’t nor do I ever want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.” You placed your hands on either side of his face, looking at him with a slight panic. He could see the stars in your eyes up close when he could only look afar. This made him smile, feeling a sense of relief. You lent your forehead on his, closing your eyes. He rubbed his nose against yours, feeling comfort in the silence.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, whispering so quietly you almost didn’t hear him. You replied with a soft yes, feeling a tear fall along your cheek. His lips slotted with yours, the hot pink flesh fitting perfectly together. This is the first time you’ve kissed one another, not even sharing a kiss on your wedding day. He sighs into your lips, feeling all the tension, all this hatred for his life, all the sadness, washing away from just a kiss. His world seemed so much brighter, the love that his mother would talk about finally finding its way back. You were the one to break the kiss, grabbing air as you pulled away. A smile left on his face as looked at you with adoring eyes.

“Just so you know…” His voice was soft, but hidden with lust, leaning forward to your ear he whispered, “You’re still getting punished for what you did tonight.”

And like that, he lifted you up, carrying you to his bed, keeping to his promise.

2K notes · View notes

goodgirlofglory · 9 months

Text

A successful trial run/ One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 9,2k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, smut, making out, nipple-play, dry-humping, coming in pants hehe, me making up a lot of unconvincing sciency talk about tech and engineering and whatnot.

Summary: As a newly recruited scientist in the royal technical institute of Wakanda, your first task involves a certain Winter Soldier fresh out of cryostasis and in need of a new arm. Intrigued by his mysterious figure since forever, you’re brimming with fascination over the subject. Little did you anticipate capturing his eye in return.

Note: This takes place somewhere between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Avengers Infinity War. Kinda wanted to write something from the time Bucky spent in Wakanda. I enjoyed writing this one, hope you enjoy reading it😘 Likes, replies and reblogs are amazing. Luv you guys, you are the best, i am always so grateful and excited to receive all your feedback💕💕🦋

The first time the Winter Soldier entered the lab, he was flanked by the entire Dora Milaje and led by the king himself. Apart from the usual ceremony of greeting the king and his guest of honor, no one seemed jittered nor particularly preoccupied with the new project - or its primary subject. The engineers, scientists and technicians of the royal technical institute and Wakandan Design group were used to making much more extravagant and complicated designs than a prosthetic arm.

It was a regular Tuesday for everyone - except you, that was. Extraordinarily gifted from a young age, you had quickly advanced and surpassed your peers and even superiors in your studies at the university of the capitol. Subsequently, you were the youngest person in the lab - apart from princess Shuri herself.

And you were almost jumping out of your skin with excitement at having the Winter Soldier as your very first test subject. Or rather, you were on the team that was to build his next vibranium arm. You’d read all about him and watched all the news over the years, but you had started working in the lab after he’d been brought to Wakanda and put in cryostasis, so you’d never actually seen him in the flesh. Now he was out of cryo for rehabilitation and with that came the need for a new arm. Shuri had picked the team herself, and to your utter surprise, chosen you as a part of it.

Your task was fairly simple: organize and execute the fitting of the prosthetic prototypes with the subject himself, take notes and report to the team whatever adjustments the soldier would prefer. The others would do most of the engineering, creative modeling and building - the more prestigious work. You didn’t really care that your tasks were relatively simple and low level though - it was an amazing learning experience for a newbie like you. Plus, it meant you were the primary contact person for the soldier himself, which had you flushing hot for both professional and decidedly less professional reasons.

The soldier was an enigma; lethal chaos and extreme discipline spliced inside the body of what was once a regular American. His mythos was both intriguingly detailed and all at once a mystery - a sort of dangerous puzzle you couldn’t help but be drawn to like a moth to a flame. Everything he had lived and experienced and represented was so very very far from your own safe and mundane world. It wasn’t that growing up in Wakanda had been boring per se, but everything was just so… perfect, and despite yourself, you were drawn to the Winter Soldier and the extraordinary case of his unusual life. And from the moment you’d laid eyes on him, you knew you were out of your depth.

He was beautiful - in a rugged, unpolished sort of way; raw and hauntingly real, he only seemed to move when it served the explicit purpose of his visit. Otherwise, he stood still as a statue. He had an air of mystery to him, but despite his huge, menacing and burly form, he wasn’t scary. His eyes were soft, the babiest of blue, his stubble revealed tiny streaks of silver, and his hair, though washed and groomed, had a consistently shaggy look to it that made him seem…human. Just another regular white guy to everyone else in the lab - the most intriguing person in Wakanda to you.

Along with the king, the soldier had silently shaken the hand of everyone on the team, looking them in the eyes with a polite, though quite stoic expression that betrayed nothing of what was happening on the inside. You’d stared at him as he'd made his way down the line, scrutinized every inch of his face, trying to gauge the tiniest twitch of muscle, any indication or hint of emotion - to your utter astonishment, you could see nothing. Then he'd reached where you stood at the end of the line of team members, and your heart'd kicked into a sprint at the way he suddenly loomed before you in all his muscled, mystical and deadly glory. Holy shit, he was huge, surely a foot taller than you, with the most obscenely broad shoulders and thighs that bulged in a way that had your mouth going dry.

Get yourself together! Stop ogling the subject!, you had admonished yourself harshly.

By the time you got back in contact with your body and reached a hand out to him, your palms were sweaty and your face hot. And then, as he engulfed your hand in his pale, calloused one, hot like a multilayered sonic solar panel during july, you thought you saw a muscle near his eye twitch, catching your gaze the same way his eyes did a moment later when they glinted with something suspiciously alike curiosity, a flashing moment of undivided interest that had you flushing even hotter.

Oh yeah, you were in big, big trouble.

Three months later you no longer broke out in panicked sweating whenever Barnes came in for a fitting (most of the time). You’d had a total of four meetings so far, all of which had been professional, short and silent. Barnes hadn’t spoken more than a few words to you in all your time together in the lab, and none of them of much importance.

("Here?" he'd asked that first fitting when you’d asked him to take a seat on the surgical bench.

"No" he'd said when you asked if the new fastenings at his shoulder were uncomfortable.

"Yes", he'd said when you’d asked if the first prototype arm was lighter than what he was used to.

Other than that, the winter soldier mostly communicated in grunts, nods and shakes of his head.)

The hiss of the sliding door alerted you to his arrival as you were readying the newest prototype for the fitting, and just like always, the door was the only sound even hinting at his presence. He was impossibly silent for a guy his size.

“Sit down, please, I’ll be ready in a moment,” you threw over your shoulder, keeping your eyes on the clasps you would try on the shoulder today.

When he didn’t answer and you could hear no sound of the shifting padding on the surgical bench, you threw a look over your shoulder and froze.

Barnes stood by the bench, his one flesh arm raised high, fingers adjusting something on the…bun on the back of his head. His…bun of…gorgeous, thick locks of shaggy brown hair. You gulped, a tingling sensation of adrenaline starting to well up in your chest. He hadn’t worn his hair like that before, at least not around you, and man were you a sucker for a nice hair do on a man. Combined with this man it seemed to be suddenly and quite effectively lethal. His locks were collected and pulled away from his face, revealing high, chiseled cheekbones and a jawline that could cut diamonds and -

A screw fell out of your hand as your mind worked overtime to process the image before you, and then, so quickly you didn’t even see him move, the soldier was there, crouching at your feet, catching the screw before it could clink onto the floor.

It felt like an eternity went by as you stared at his bent form slowly straighten up up up to his full height, the screw looking more like a grain of sand in his big, calloused and rough hand, his body so close you swore you could feel the warmth radiating off him. The lulling scent of fresh earth and spices filled your nose, taking you to luscious lands far away.

You heard the hitch in your tiny, involuntary intake of air like a siren in a dead silent night, and your face blazed to a million fucking degrees, your heart galloping in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you looked up into his pale eyes - eyes that betrayed nothing in an equally neutral face.

Fuckfuckfuck, he’s so close. Fuck, his eyes are so blue, shit, he smells good, is that freckles on his cheek bones -

He held the screw out expectantly, and you mentally shook yourself for being so fucking slow. Stop ogling him! Take the screw! With fingers you were relieved to see didn’t tremble, you reached out and plucked it from his light grasp, furiously not hyperfocusing on where your skin grazed his.

“Um,” you started, and painfully cleared your throat before trying again, cheeks burning, “t-thanks. Please, sit.”

He stayed unmoving for half a second longer than was strictly necessary, and then he turned and moved to sit on the surgical bench.

Turning back to your table of tools, you took a few calming breaths, breathing as softly as you could in case the soldier could hear you (which he probably could quite well considering what you’d read about his enhanced body and senses.)

You turned back to find him watching you from a seated position on the bench, eyes following your movement as you walked up towards him, pulling your table behind you. You plastered on your best carefree smile and picked up the prototype vibranium arm, sleek black with silver accents, and like you always did, held it up so he could inspect it if he chose to. Like always, he didn’t seem remotely interested in the design. Only, he didn’t stare ahead out into the room like he usually did during these parts of the fittings. Instead his eyes remained on you, his form so fucking unmoving he could be a statue. You swallowed thickly, absurdly nervous. His scent still lingered in your mind.

He’d removed his shirt, revealing the new shoulder prosthesis in the same black as the arm, fitted to mold over his scarred tissue and make a clean transition from steel to skin. Your eyes caught on the tiny sliver of golden, muscled skin peeking out from where his white t-shirt had been cut above the shoulder, and you quickly averted your gaze even as your mind started conjuring images of wide expanses of soft, golden skin under the tips of your fingers as you explored under rays of soft, morning sunlight.

Why did he have to look so god damned good, with his stupid hair up in a stupid bun and stupid t-shirt that dared show even a square centimeter of his stupid skin, you thought perturbed as you started fitting the arm to the shoulder, hands working on autopilot while your mind frayed at the edges.

All through the fitting, you felt his eyes linger on you, not staring per se, just…observing. Three times you peeked up from your work to catch his eyes on yours, and three times you hastily averted your gaze back, your cheeks heating anew, your heart picking up speed. He’d never done that before. He’d always just stared at the floor or the wall during his fittings, eyes vacant, seemingly far far away. He’d never been fully present, never watched you, very rarely met your eyes. It was what had kept your own visceral reactions to such a minimum you could easily manage them. But now, under his weighty gaze, your body started tingling all over, sweat gathering on your brow, your breathing going just slightly too fast. You didn’t know if it was excitement or some instinctive fight or flight-reflex kicking into gear. Why was he looking at you like that?

“There,” you said just a little too hastily when at last the final screw was in place. You retreated to the other side of the room under the guise of organizing your tools back into their rightful place on the wall. “Please test it out, feel how it fits, tell me how it feels,” you said with your back to him, reciting the instructions you always gave him during this part of the fitting. Usually, you observed him closely as he walked around the room, lifting the arm, flexing the fingers and grabbing at random objects to test grip and reactivity. Now it was all you could do to not flee the room all together due to how embarrassingly flustered you were. The fittings in themselves weren’t really necessary from an engineering perspective - the royal technical institute all but guaranteed the highest mark of quality and a near zero percent chance of faults. The fittings were more beneficial from a psychological point of view - to give the subject a smooth transitional introduction to their new limb.

You heard him shuffling about for some time while you randomly moved tools and screws around your table while trying to collect and promptly ban all the inappropriate thoughts running wild in your head. It was so unprofessional to be affected like this! Sure, he was handsome (wildly so) but you couldn’t call yourself a proper scientist if you acted like this! It was disgraceful! Even as you scolded yourself for being this way around the poor, innocent hunk - SUBJECT - your mind flooded with the thoughts you tried so hard to keep at bay. What did his hair feel like sliding through your fingers? Did he always gaze so intently? What would those eyes look like in dark rooms surrounded by soft sheets? What would that new metal hand look like wrapped around your -

The sound of a throat clearing had you yelping - for fuck’s sake, girl - and whipping around to find him right behind you, looking down at you with that expression that betrayed nothing.

You stared up at him for a moment, heart thumping in your chest, stunned to silence by his clear initiation of contact, and then abruptly found your sense.

“Does it feel right? Is anything uncomfortable or -”

Your words died out as he extended the vibranium hand between you. He let it hover there, hand straight, expectant. You stared for a moment, and then praised yourself for daring to reach your own hand out to clasp his, a bit unused to the flip to using your left hand to shake his, hoping to God this was what he was getting at and that you didn’t just make a fool of yourself.

Your interpretation was correct, and the smooth, slightly cold metal closed around you, dwarfing your hand. The soldier squeezed your fingers and then shook your hand a bit stiffly a couple of times before stilling. You gulped, acutely aware of your heartbeat running a gallop in your chest, the silence around you so severe you could hear your own breathing like a wind tunnel. The feel of the vibranium, so alive in this form and shape, squeezing your fingers in a firm, unyielding grip had new, strange sensations slowly trickling south, and you fought the instinct to clench your thighs as unwelcome heat pooled in your lower stomach. Mortified by your own, inappropriate and decidedly unprofessional reaction, you hoped to all the dead kings and Bast herself that the soldier didn’t notice. Disturbingly, there came no sound from the soldier, not even from his breathing.

After a moment of nothing happening, the both of you just standing there, clasping hands, you dared a peek up at his face. He was watching you again, but instead of pale, dead eyes, the blue of his irises simmered with something…something hot and wicked and -

You abruptly pulled your hand out of his grasp, and gave him a far too fake gleeful smile. “Good grip,” you jipped, voice coming out far too strained and shrill to be casual. Barnes looked at you with those captivating eyes for a moment longer before looking down at his vibranium hand, flexing the fingers a little.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

It took you a moment to register the words, and then elation swept through you. You smiled and clapped your hands together and spun to go note his comment down. “How wonderful, I’m so glad,” you said, not able to keep the excitement out of your voice. A happy subject meant you’d fulfilled your task! The project could move onto its final stages of rendering and documentation. Happy progress! You scribbled down some fast notes on the screws and fastenings, how he’d tested grip by shaking your hands and his own feedback, putting his exact words down as a quote.

“The team will be so happy to learn you’re satisfied, they talked so much about the latest updates on the interface between sensory input and mechanical automobility - they wouldn’t shut up about it for days, I swear to Bast,” you said, the words falling out of your mouth in your excitement, and then you turned back towards him and again fell silent.

He was staring at you, and for the first time, you could actually detect emotions on his face. He looked…dumbfounded, or something akin to that, watching you with avid eyes, mouth slightly open and brows for once out of their trademark downturned frown. You were stunned yourself for a moment seeing him so out of character, and then you promptly lowered your gaze.

Oh great, first you’re fumbling and awkward and then you start rambling like a lunatic. What is wrong with you?, you asked yourself silently. You cleared your throat and motioned for him to sit back on the bench. He obliged, and you found yourself slightly disappointed to see him schooling away his emotion behind the stoic mask.

“So, I’ll have to take the arm off so it can be finalized, and then you’ll just have to have it fastened a final time, and then you’ll have your arm, Mr. Barnes,” you said as you got to work unscrewing and removing the prosthetic limb. He nodded, eyes glued to you like before. He didn’t seem happy, or if he was, he didn’t show it. You hoped he’d feel elated like you did, but considered how the whole metal arm thing might still be a little complicated for him. You wondered if he was going to a therapist, or a support group or anything. You didn’t dare ask, though. “I imagine the finalizing process won’t take much more than two weeks. I’ll send you a suggestion for the next appointment once it’s clear, and you can confirm using your compad like before. Sound good?” you asked, thankful you could keep a clear head through this part at least.

“Yes,” he said, still watching your eyes as you removed the arm and returned it to the table. You nodded to him, and managed to stay upright until the door hissed shut behind him as he left. Then you curled into a mortified little ball and hid your flaming face in your hands.

Fucking. Great.

Your heart had been hammering harder for every mile that passed as your cruiser made its way into the heart of the Wakandan landscape. The prosthetic arm had been finalized within a couple of days and your superiors thought the best course of action was sending you out to fasten it instead of demanding Barnes make his way into the capitol on such short notice. Which meant you were on your way to his home, to be completely alone with him…in his home.

Part of you was insatiably curious to see how he lived, to peer into such a private, revealing place. Everyone knew seeing how a person lived was like seeing a reflection of their soul. Your apartment for instance, was a hot fucking mess, but one you could navigate perfectly. You hadn’t allowed yourself to picture Barnes’s home, though, or make any assumptions. How he lived was of no scientific interest, and therefore no interest to you! Or so you told yourself, at least…

It’s fine. Everything is fine, you chanted in your head as the cruiser arrived at its destination, the small hut Barnes had been gifted as his indefinite residence. It was a beautiful place to keep a residence, right by the river, the surrounding trees providing plenty of shade from the hot sun and a gorgeous view over the plains. It only made you more curious about Barnes, and subsequently, more furious with yourself.

Everything is fine.

As you shut the motor down and climbed out of the vehicle, his large, burly figure emerged from the hut, and a spike of energy went off inside you as you locked eyes with Barnes. He was as stoic as ever, but he walked up to meet you right away and surprised you when he reached to grab the case with the arm in it to carry it for you.

“Hi,” you said, and quickly added, “um, thanks for being available at such a short notice.”

You’d felt kinda foolish for giving such a roomy deadline prognosis at his last fitting only for it to take a few days, and were sweating with the hope it hadn’t inconvenienced him in any way. There was a whole delicate, psychological process involved in getting a new limb - a process one shouldn’t meddle too much in - especially when there was significant trauma involved in losing the original limb. Fuck, you were so nervous.

He looked a bit puzzled for a moment, brows drawn down in consideration.

“No. Thank you for coming all this way,” he said a bit haltingly, and to your astonishment, he sounded almost as unsure of himself as you felt. Uncomfortable warmth spread in your chest. That must have been the longest sentence he’d ever spoken to you. His voice was low and gruff, a smooth rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ground, across to you and straight into your chest. Fuuck, how were you supposed to survive that voice, and with him being uncharacteristically timid and polite?

Suddenly you felt like laughing. Here you were, both of you so awkward and unsure, and what for? This was a joyous occasion, for Bast's sake, and you were being silly! Forcing your nerves down, you leveled him with a smile.

“Not at all. Let’s get that arm on, shall we?” you said, letting your actual excitement for the happening fill you instead. You were after all, genuinely excited to finally give Barnes his new prosthetic limb, and see him back to full mobility.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes fluttering around your face, and then abruptly stepped aside and gestured for you to proceed him into the hut. You obliged, holding your spirits high as you dared venture past the curtain and inside the hut.

Barnes’s home was sparsely furnished but…surprisingly cozy. Brightly coloured pillows, blankets and tapestries lay everywhere, a window to the right letting in the bright, midday sun, casting a glowing light on everything. You recognised the patterns and color scheme from your own parents and grandparents houses, it was a traditional home in all senses of the words. You’d think Barnes would stick out like a sore thumb here, but really, he seemed to fit in well. There was a low table to the left with stacks of books and a mug on it, surrounded by more pillows and blankets. Your eyes caught on and swiftly ignored the cot at the back of the hut, made perfectly with a mountain of pillows.

That’s where he sleeps. That’s where he rests. That’s where he’s most vulnerable. That’s where you would lay if he - NO!

Barnes squeezed around you where you stood just inside the entrance studying the space, and you quite viscerally realized how small the hut was for the two of you, how small it was for him alone really. This was gonna be way more tight and intimate than the lab, you thought with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Barnes put the case down by the low table and proceeded to start clearing the table of books and pens and the mug. He looked down into the mug and then over at you.

“Coffee?” he asked, and taken aback by the unexpected question, you shook your head quickly before immediately regretting it. It would’ve been more polite to accept, and you did feel a bit strung out by your morning so far.

Barnes nodded in response, and then seemed at a loss, turning the mug in his hand. Was he…fidgeting?

“Where do you -?” he started, and you cut him off.

“Right there is fine. We can sit on the floor, no problem,” you said reassuringly, giving him another smile, suddenly filled with sweetness for this big hulk of a man and his nervous fidgeting. He nodded and proceeded to plump down where you assumed he normally sat. You quelled a smile at how normalcy seemed to bleed through even this exceedingly awkward situation, and was kind of enamored by the way Barnes seemed to relax once he was seated in his usual spot. It gave you the impression that this space was a comfort to him, which you were glad to see.

You neared and sat down on your knees at his side, opening the case and swiftly taking out everything you needed as he took off his shirt to reveal the same t-shirt he used to wear underneath, sleeveless on the left side. Without further ado, you started the process of permanently fastening the arm. You slipped into a calm concentration as you worked, the familiarity and comfort of your skills calming you, a comfortable silence descending upon you both, only interrupted by the sounds of your electric screwdriver. The whole thing took no longer than ten minutes, and then you sat back and looked upon Barnes in silence as he took in his new arm, knowing it was finally, and wholly, his.

He stared down at it for a long while, and then the hut was filled with sounds of gentle, almost silent whirring as he started flexing mechanical muscles, then fingers, then the whole arm, lifting it to examine and compare to his other arm, running them both through his loose hair and picking up different items on his table and tossing them lightly from hand to hand. He seemed completely engrossed, and for long minutes it seemed almost like he’d forgotten you were even there as he explored his new arm.

It was awe-inspiring to see, to be allowed to observe such a vulnerable moment, to witness him seemingly letting himself really connect to this new possibility of having two arms and two hands again, in a way he hadn’t even seemed to entertain while in the fittings. It touched something deep inside you, witnessing with honor what you hoped might be a moment of healing, and tears pricked the back of your eyes. It felt so incredibly moving to be part of a team that could give something like this to a person who’d been through so much hardship, and the feeling filled you, making you feel all warm. This was why you’d gotten into this field, this was why you wanted to be a scientist. To be able to help people recover precious things lost.

Your heart swelled with emotion, and then Barnes looked at you, his own astonished joy blasted clear across his face, completely unencumbered, letting you see it without any pretense or facades. Your breath caught in your throat at the sheer volume of his joy, and how intimate him sharing it so openly with you was. You were stunned.

And then you kissed him.

One moment you were looking at his broad smile full of slightly crooked, white teeth, and then you’d leaned across your own knees and half across his and unceremoniously pressed your lips to his. It was closed-mouthed and a bit off-center, your bottom lip caught awkwardly on his top one. But sparks crackled through your body all the same as you felt how soft his lips were, how warm his skin was, the slightly surprised gust of warm, gentle air from his nostrils.

And then your senses kicked in, mortification hot on their heels, and you broke the kiss abruptly, all but ready to flee the hut. You didn’t get the chance to move away though, before cool metal fingers slid up the sensitive skin of your throat and back to cup your neck, gently, but firmly pulling you right back into the kiss.

A fire caught in your loins, sizzling hot sparks shooting up your body and you drew in a shaky breath through your nose only for the air to be caught in your throat, making a small, needy, desperately embarrassing sound. The metal fingers on your neck tightened at the sound.

You felt completely blown off your center. Nothing had felt this good before, nothing in your whole, perfect life full of joys and pleasures and fulfillment had felt so sensationally good as James Buchanan Barnes's lips on yours while his brand new prosthetic hand cradled your neck.

The surge of desire that welled from that feeling propelled you to buck forward and crawl into his laps, straddling him with even more clumsy frenzy as you kissed him again. He answered in kind, his flesh hand landing tentatively on your hip before moving up your back to pull you tighter against him once he seemingly caught on to the fact that you were there in his lap of your own fruition.

You kissed again and again, hungry, exploring, closed-mouthed but growing more desperate, more daring. You opened your mouth to catch your breath and was met by the shy swipe of his tongue just inside your mouth, and your whole body shuddered at the sensation before you wrapped your arms around his neck and swiped your own tongue to meet his.

A growl came out of nowhere and exploded in Barnes’s chest as you tongue-kissed him with everything you had, and then the world was spinning, and your back hit the brightly earth-coloured rug. Barnes followed you closely, and laid down on top of you, pinning you down with his huge, burly body, claiming your mouth in an honest-to-Bast breath-taking kiss.

It was explosively good, this gorgeous, muscled beast of a man pinning you to the ground, broad shoulders shielding you from everything above, leaning on his elbows while his hands cradled your face, holding you perfectly still as his mouth descended upon yours again and again, growing hungrier with every kiss. Your mind whirled with images of his metal arm wrapping around your throat, pinning you down, tearing your clothes to shreds and holding you put exactly where he wanted while the soldier ravished you, and it became even harder to pull air into your flaming lungs. You heard yourself whimpering into the kisses, your own desperation growing like a galloping crescendo inside you. You were suddenly, unexpectedly, and totally irrationally ready for him to tear your clothes off and take you right there on the floor of his hut, heat flaming in your lower stomach, a molten ache starting to let itself be known between your legs, everything else in the world be damned and forgotten if you could just feel him ins -

A small beeping sound cut through the fog of desire overtaking you, and it took you a moment for your melting brain to recognise it as your pager. You wrenched out of the kiss and put your hands on Barnes’s broad, warm chest, feeling his strong heartbeat jackhammer beneath the layers of clothes and flesh. His lips followed you for a split second, his eyes opening to slits in order to find you again. Then, as he realized you’d intentionally ended the kiss, he immediately let you push him half-way off you to fish the pager out of your pocket. It was your boss, they needed you back by lunch.

Fuck

Fuck, what the fuck were you doing? It dawned on you the incredibly inappropriate situation you were in, had put yourself and Barnes in. This was reckless and rash and completely not who you were or had ever been. With anyone! No, no, no, this was bad, you were so fucking stupid. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes as you pushed him gently all the way off you to sit back on his haunches and swiftly extracted yourself from under him and got to your feet.

You were mortified, absolutely mortified, shame and embarrassment and guilt washing over you in tidal waves, slamming into your chest.

“I’m so sorry, that was so…um…I have to go, but er, enjoy your hand - ARM and hand,” you sputtered out as you began fleeing the hut all together. Then you remembered what you were supposed to say upon leaving, and turned while halfway out the door, “If you have any trouble or complications, don’t hesitate to contact the institute. On behalf of the technical institute and design group, we hope you will be pleased with the product. Um, bye!”

Barnes remained in the same seated position on the floor while you made your stumbling exit, and you missed the look of longing in his eyes as you left.

A week passed while you marinated in your own embarrassment and guilt, trying and failing to get the whole incident in the hut out of your mind. Partly because it was the most unprofessional and out-of-control thing you’d ever done, and partly because you just couldn’t get the memory of Barnes’s lips out of your head. The warmth emanating from him like a furnace, the way his hands gripped you gently, but possessively, the thrill that had gone through you when he flipped you and pinned you to the floor like you were nothing more than a rag doll. Had he been as turned on as you? Had he enjoyed himself? Surely he’d enjoyed it a little bit with the way he’d reciprocated, but had he really wanted it?

You shook yourself out of your daydream for probably the dozenth time that day, not a single word written on the personal essay you were to turn in with your other documentation in a couple of days. Fuuuck, this was so bad, you had to be able to focus and put this from your mind! If you were lucky and if everything went as it should with the prosthetic, Barnes would have no reason to contact the institute and seek you out ever again, and you would never have to see him again after your blunder.

The project would be over soon, you would move on to new ones and the one tether you had to Barnes would be severed. It was best for everyone if you just forgot the whole thing.

Except, in your panicked flight from his home, you’d completely forgotten the case that had contained the prosthetic arm, along with some screws and your most beloved screwdriver. You hadn’t even noticed it was left behind until you were halfway back to the lab, and had been completely at a loss on what to do. You couldn’t go back after the way you’d left, but you couldn’t just leave it either. The equipment wasn’t of that much value and the lab had plenty more, so that wasn’t the greatest issue. But you loved that screwdriver, and felt it as an obligation to retrieve it. Plus, it wasn’t fair to just leave it there, in Barnes’s home, what use did he have of it? Still, you couldn’t bear the thought of going back after the way you’d left….

Your head thumped down onto the workbench at the back of your lab. You were spiraling down the rabbit hole of warring thoughts for the upteenth time that day and was about to hurl something at the wall when the clearing of a throat came out of nowhere.

Whipping your head up, you practically leapt from your chair when you saw Barnes standing in the middle of your lab, clad in light pants and a loose-fitting half-sleeved shirt, completely unexpected, looking exceedingly unsure of himself (...and obscenely gorgeous)

Your immediate thought went to his arm, but as far as you could see, it was still intact and working perfectly from the way he clenched and unclenched the vibranium hand at his side. Then your eyes slipped to his other hand, and saw the case he held in it.

“I, um, hello, I thought you might like this back,” he said, looking down and holding out the hand with the case. You immediately walked up to him and took it.

“Thank you! So much, you didn’t have to come all this way just for that,” you rushed to say, feeling sheepish and grateful at the same time.

“Oh no, I, uh…I…I have some errands in the… uh, the city and whatnot,” he said, and you almost smiled a little at the way he suddenly fumbled for words. Was this even the same guy that had pinned you to the floor and ravished your mouth a week ago? The same guy that had walked into the lab that first day, all menacing silence and calculated movement.

“Oh, okay, well, this was really nice of you, thank you again. Um, what did you say to the guards to get in here?” you asked, suddenly remembering the levels of clearing he had to go through to get here. Did he tell the truth? Would your superiors know you forgot the case? That you’d made a fool of yourself and made the whole institute look chaotic and unprofessional?

“I told them I had some more questions about the arm, and that I wanted to speak with you since you’re so knowledgeable and good at your job,” Barnes said, waving his metal hand in the air a little as if to show you it was indeed made of vibranium.

He’d protected you? Kept your secret? A warm sense of giddyness spread through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling to broadly.

“God, you didn’t have to tell them all that,” you said, feeling warmth bloom on your cheeks from his compliments.

“I meant it, though,” he said seriously, and then he took a step towards you, “And I wanted to, needed to apologize…for what happened at my house…last week.”

Your heart surged in your chest and you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Apologize? What could he have to apologize for? You were the one who’d acted out of line. Did he regret what’d happened? What if you’d overstepped his boundaries and added more to his trauma?

“No, no, please, I’m the one who should apologize here. It was completely unprofessional to do that when I was working on a project with you, and so inappropriate to force myself upon you like that, all in this emotional moment and without knowing if you’d enjoy it or -”

“I enjoyed it,” he interrupted, voice clear and strong.

You looked up to find him another step closer. So big, and strong, and handsome, your insatiable desire whispered to you as he gazed down into your eyes, only inches between you. You wanted to kiss him again suddenly, your lips tingled with it.

“You did?” you asked, only half paying attention as you lost yourself in his heavenly baby blue eyes, framed by thick lashes paled by the sun. Your eyes flicked down to his full lips, and when they went back to his eyes, they glinted with a spark of that same ferociousness that’d awakened in him on that floor in his hut. A glint that had your lower stomach going all molten.

He nodded, breathing a little laugh that surprised you. Your heart started soaring in your chest despite your best efforts to keep from getting ahead of yourself.

“Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing and licking his lips, “a lot. I, uh, I was really sorry to see you leave so abruptly too - before I could speak with you,” he said.

Arousal welled up in your body, and you felt a little dizzy all of a sudden. He’d enjoyed it…

“Me too,” you whispered, not trusting your voice not to crack.

He took a final, tiny step closer, too close for any kind of professionalism or even decency, really, so close you could almost sense the atoms sparking to life in the tiny space between your bodies. Just like that, you were back in his hut, the moment swelling to level with the heavy, sizzling churn of when he'd flipped you to the carpet and caged you in underneath him. He had such a presence, his body thrumming with life and power and fuck, you wanted it on top of you. Again.

“I’m relieved to hear that. And,” he said, slowly reaching his flesh hand to tentatively cup your neck, hot and possessive in one, tender gesture, his calloused thumb coming up to stroke over your jaw, the intimate touch sending fireworks through your nervous system, ”though I don’t want to disrespect your work ethic, I’d like to point out that we’re not working on the same project anymore, so if you’d like to -”

The case hit the floor with a loud bang the moment you wrapped your arms around Barnes’s neck and threw yourself into his arms, your lips meeting in a sizzling kiss. Barnes caught you around the waist and hauled you up into his arms, your feet dangling off the ground as he crushed you to his chest, returning the kiss tenfold.

His tongue was immediately in your mouth this time, licking hot and wet and dominatingly over your own, and you whimpered at the sheer intensity, the way it blazed to a fire in your loins.

You clung to him like your life depended on it, and moaned into his mouth as you felt him turn and lower you to the bench in the lab, not letting much space get in between you before he draped himself over you and continued putting his mouth to yours. Your hands found their agency and started moving, mapping out his shoulders, feeling the muscle ripple under your fingertips as you caressed down his chest and around his sides to stroke his long, chiseled back.

His loose cotton shirt rode up as he moved to step further in between your opening legs, pressing himself closer, and your hands were unable to resist the pull as your fingers met the hot flesh of his lower back, stroking over silky smooth skin up again under his shirt.

His whole body shuddered against you, a small gasp emanating from him as he broke the kiss, and your excitement went through the roof. You opened your eyes and stared at his expression going lax, eyes closing and mouth hanging slightly open as you continued your caress up his back. You hooked your hands over his shoulder and pulled him down to you again, nibbling on his lip before kissing his open mouth, your fingertips dancing in swirling patterns down his back.

His body shuddered again.

“Oh my god,” he whispered a little breathlessly against your mouth, mostly to himself it seemed, and your discovery made you almost feverish with desire.

He was sensitive, and probably more than a little touch-starved.

You brought your hands forward and found the top button on his shirt, staring to undo it as you breathed into each other's mouths. You’d gotten to the third one when Barnes gave a (admittedly adorable) little huff of impatience and pulled free to wrench his shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted torso right out of your wettest dream. You had to take a moment just to stare at him, hard abs, flat stomach, pecs that stretched into rounded, muscled, obscenely broad shoulders. Tight, sculpted muscles that shone in the dimmed, bluish fluorescents of the ceiling lights, one muscled arm with prominent veins running down to a calloused hand, one arm reflecting the lights in shiny, sculpted, black vibranium.

His chest rose and fell with his labored breath, his abs flexing, the muscles of his torso and arms tensing and shifting as he stood before you and it was just so different from the statuesque, almost frugal way he’d moved before, when he only exerted energy at the utmost importance. This man was alive in a completely different way. And he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.

You’d barely raked your eyes up to his and caught the feral glint in his eyes before he was on you again, ripping your lab coat open and sliding his hands up and down your sides. His touch sent shivers of warmth through you and you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you. That only seemed to spur him on. When his hands slid under the cotton sweater you wore, exploring the folds and dips of your abdomen, you shuddered. He was touching you like he hadn’t touched anyone before, all curious and explorative with just the hint of inexperienced clumsiness, fingers curious for such a mundane thing as the fold of skin over your ribcage as you lay there crouched beneath him.

Bast, you needed more, his touch sending you into a frenzy. You wanted him, all of him.

You started awkwardly extracting your arms from your lab coat, and when Barnes caught on, he was more than willing to help you shed it before his fingers went to the hem of your sweater. He paused then, and looked into your eyes for permission. You nodded, a bit eagerly perhaps, but whatever.

He slowly slid the fabric of your sweater up your torso, and in a move more gentle than you’d anticipated from the way he removed his own clothes, he bent down and tentatively kissed your stomach - right on your tummy, soft kisses following the fabric up. It stole your breath away as you watched the movement avidly.

He pushed the fabric all the way up over your bra, and reached with a curious hand to tug the cup down, revealing a hardened nipple. You were nearly shaking with want at this point, and shuddered embarrassingly hard when he took the nipple in his mouth and swiped his hot, wet tongue on it, nibbling gently and curiously with his teeth until you shuddered again.

You let your hands wander and found his hair, finally, finally getting to feel the soft, straight locks of hair sift through them, basking in the opportunity after having snuck peaks at it for months. It was even silkier than you’d imagined, despite its shaggy appearance. You combed your hands through his hair as he moved to suck on your other nipple, pulling the cup of your bra down to free your breast to the open air of the room.

Scraping your nails over his scalp, you felt the way his form trembled atop you, and he almost purred, a deep, rumbling groan vibrating through you and into the very bench beneath you. You scraped over his scalp again and bit your lip as it elicited another rumble.

He let your nipple go, puffy and a shade darker than usual from his bullying, and you watched the string of saliva connect it to his lips with a blush burgeoning on your face. Oh, this might get filthy, you thought to yourself, almost embarrassed by how much you liked it when he closed the distance between you and licked into your mouth again, seemingly not caring about his spit getting everywhere, the kiss messy and wet.

There was a tell-tale hard bulge pressing against the heated spot between your legs, and you rolled your hips down on it. Barnes gasped out of the kiss, looking almost shocked as he quickly looked down between your bodies to where he was pressed against you, and you wondered if he might’ve forgotten where all of these horny urges came from. You rolled your hips into him again, experimentally, and watched as realization hit him, as his eyelids drooped and a tiny groan escaped him. Then he rolled his hips to meet yours and it was your time to groan.

“Just like that,” you whispered encouragingly, and met his gaze as he returned his eyes to yours, watching you intently as he rolled his hips again and again, grinding himself between your legs.

He felt…big, to say the least, and he was grinding against your clothed clit in a way that you knew had you gushing into your panties. You could already feel the fabric getting soggy, sliding along your flesh as Barnes widened his step and grinded against you with more grounded precision.

Fuck, it felt so good it was getting hard to think, and when his - oh god - vibranium hand slid down your side to grab your hip, effortlessly pinning you down into the bench so he could grind even harder against your core, the breath in your lungs fucking punched out of you. You knew just how much strength was packed into that metal arm. Knew there was a fine line between using too much strength and keeping you pinned firmly enough so you couldn’t move your hips an inch. Barnes traversed that line perfectly.

Your pussy was on fire, the grinds of Bucky’s big, hard bulge against your clit too much while - simultaneously - the layers of clothes between you made it somehow not enough. It had been so long since you’d just frotted, clothed, like this, and you now wondered how you could’ve forgotten how fucking good it felt - or if it’d ever felt this good at all before. You seriously doubted it, for you couldn’t really believe it, but the rhythm and weight of Bucky's hips while his mouth lowered to mouth at your neck was somehow actually propelling you towards the edge.

You tried to move your hips to grind back, to make him go faster, harder, but found yourself utterly - and deliciously - fully at his mercy as he nuzzled the crook of your neck and laved his tongue on your skin, tasting it in that fascinating curiosity of his.

Fuck, it was right there, you could feel it, he was gonna make you come, you just needed a little more.

Through the haze of your impending, building release, you could hear yourself start to whimper. Needy and a little embarrassing, the sounds escaping you despite you biting your lip and clutching at Barnes’s shoulders, barely holding on as he hurled you towards that precipice.

His face suddenly appeared from the crook of your neck, and it took you a second to realize he had a look of confused concern on his face as he looked down on you.

To your utter distress, his hips slowed their steady, hard thrust against yours, and he gave you a once over you had a hard time understanding. Then it hit you that he must be concerned he’d done something wrong; that he’d mistaken your sounds of need for ones of pain or that you didn’t want it or something utterly ridiculous like that. Sweet, respectful, slightly confused and apparently wildly inexperienced man, you thought with an almost woeful endearment. You could feel yourself slipping further under the power of his spell as his eyes returned to your face, flitting about to try and decipher your expression.

That elusive orgasm you were dancing up to started to slip away as his hips grinded to a halt, and you reached out to cradle his face in near panic.

“No, please, please, please don’t stop. It’s so good, please,” you practically whined, trying to move your own hips to get more of that sweet, intoxicating friction. You barely managed a little squiggle under the pinning strength of his hand on your hip and his body on top of yours.

A great gust of breath whooshed out of him, and he started up his rhythm again almost immediately, meeting your tiny writhing with thrusts of his own like he just couldn’t help it, and you threw your head back, biting your lip and nodding frantically as the pleasure built inside you again, picking up just behind where you’d left off.

His hand, the one of flesh, slid up your torso to caress the exposed column of your neck, almost curiously, exploring, holding it in an almost tender grip as you moaned in delirium. His thrust grew harder, your moans louder and his hand gripped harder like he enjoyed the feeling of your moans being forced from you by his moving hips.

You could tell the moment he started climbing his own precipice, how his movement grew more focused, more intent, leaving all exploration behind to chase a goal with an almost singular, feral possession. His breaths turned to gasps, which turned to grunts and then low growls. His movement turned frantic, almost feral in their one mindedness. He was losing himself to the pleasure and you whined, mind turning to slush under the onslaught of his ferocity. You were going dumb on his cock and he hadn’t even taken it out of his pants. Didn’t matter, you were done for.

The wild, animalistic abandon with which he chased his own high was so blastingly hot it sent you tumbling over the edge almost entirely on its own. You gasped, your body tensing and then exploding under his as his grinding thrusts sent wave upon wave of searing, orgasmic bliss crashing into you, riding you so hard you nearly passed out.

Your sight went blurry, blood roaring in your ears, but you heard the moment his breath caught in his throat, such a vulnerable sound, and then the bulge pressed to the sticky, clothed cunt between your legs started throbbing in an uneven, staccato rhythm, which you could feel against you even through the layers of clothing separating you. His grip turned to bruising steel and you gasped anew as the intensity of the pain mixed with your abating orgasm, making a shocking, intoxicating cocktail of sensation blast through you.

He threw his head back, the thick column of his neck stretching taut, and growled like he was in pain, and it sent vibration straight through you down to the table beneath you. Fuck, he was like nothing you’d ever experienced - pure, raw power, lust, shocking honesty and a sense of almost ardent fascination - mixed together in this anomaly and mystery of a man.

It felt like several minutes passed as you tried to catch your breath and gather your mind from where it’d melted out of your ears to puddle on the bench around you. Bucky’s face had made its way into the crook of your neck, where he seemed just as slow and sluggish to come back down to earth. He was like a furnace on top of you, even hotter from his exertion, forehead damp and hot where it pressed to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His weight on you was a comforting one though, making you feel safe and protected, covered and nestled into a cocoon of muscles and warmth and soft, puffing breaths. Taking a cheeky chance, you carded a hand through his hair, the brown strands soft, glinting in the fluorescents above as they shifted through your fingers. Bucky’s whole form shivered as you raked your fingernails along his scalp, and the bulge nestled tight between your thighs and his body throbbed once as he grunted softly, neck twisting to push his head into your hand, almost like a cat rubbing against your palm to get more scritches.

A chuckle left your mouth as you kept carding your hand through Bucky’s hair. He looked up at you then, and the moment caught up with you. A blush had the audacity of spreading on your cheeks even after everything you’d just done. He looked into your eyes, silent but for your deep, still slightly labored breaths. You couldn’t help smiling.

He looked a little dazzled for a moment, then a slow, beautiful smile spread on his own lips to answer yours.

"Um, it's been a long time, and I d-don't remember much, but I'm pretty sure this is not how you court a lady properly," he said a bit self-deprecatingly. You chuckled again, and he joined, his form vibrating with myrth. He made no move to get off you though. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I don't know, this doesn't feel too bad," you said, and you could practically feel the relief in Bucky as he let you keep him laying draped across you.

"Still. I'd like to take you out sometime. It was the real reason I came here, after all," he said.

You felt your smile turn wry.

"I thought you said you had errands...and whatnots," you said.

His gaze wavered for only a moment as he realized he'd revealed his own bluff. Then his smile grew sheepish, and so warm it sizzled.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x wakandan!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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nastybuckybarnes · 2 years

Text

All The King’s Men - Fourteen

Pairing: Alpha!King!Bucky X Omega!Reader

Summary: Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Warnings: Angst, Dark Themes, Violence and Injury, ABO Dynamics (Scenting, Marking, Knotting, etc.) Fluff,

Word Count: 3.3K

A/n: I really like this chapter!! We’ve got one more after this and then she’s done!! I’m gonna start my next little things soon, though, so don’t worry! I love you all and I hope you’re having an amazing day/night!

!!DO NOT COPY/TRANSLATE/REPOST MY WORK!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

~*~

“We have discovered my wife’s body, slain, in the woods,” he begins, his eyes cast down on the ground so that his councilmen don’t realize how truly feral he is.

They all bristle slightly at the mention of the Queen’s passing, but none of them even breathe a word for fear of angering the King.

“We know not who has caused this, nor why, but I have men scouring the woods for any trace of the traitors.” It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep his eyes focused on the floor and not let them rise to look at his men.

“I shall travel with my men to Lothiella to honour the Queen, and to allow her parents to say their final goodbyes before we lay her to rest.”

He pauses, allowing his words to take root in their minds while also calming himself down.

You're not dead. You’re very much alive and, soon enough, you’ll be in his arms once more.

“I leave at dusk, and my kingdom will rest in your capable hands while I am away. I trust you to make wise decisions in my absence.”

In truth, he isn’t leaving the Kingdom in their hands. The Kingdom rests on the shoulders of Steve, who is remaining at the Palace to prevent an attack, along with a third of his army, and half the army of Lothiella.

Walking into battle with half the number he trained with isn’t something James is used to, but if that is what it takes to free you, he’s willing to do it.

The remainder of the day is spent preparing his men and himself for the battle that is to come.

A third of his army is spread throughout the village and the Palace, prepared to defend it to their last dying breath, while the rest are mounting their horses.

“You will lead us,” James says to Elden, nodding his respect toward the younger man.

Your brother bows his head in his own show of respect, then leads his mare down the gravel path toward the forest to the west.

They ride in silence for a long while, but as they approach, Elden speaks.

“I can access her through a small window on the north side of the fortress. If you hold the focus of the fight, I will be able to slip in and back out unnoticed.”

James nods his agreement, slowing his horse as a break in the forest comes into sight.

“You find her and you bring her to safety. If I am to fall in battle, we must ensure she survives. For the fate of the entire Kingdom.”

Elden nods sternly, “I will not fail.”

The two royals dismount their horses and walk to the edge of the woods, peering out beyond the trees and down the hill where the fortress lies.

There, as spoken, are the men. Not more than five hundred in number, which is double the amount currently with James.

“They prepare to march,” the King whispers, watching intently as men bustle about, trying to prepare themselves for the coming war.

“They won’t move until they have darkness again. Do you plan to attack in broad daylight?” Elden inquires.

“As soon as the men have rested and regained their strength, I will lead half of them down the hill. The fight will focus on us, so the rest will go around either side and attack when the time is right. We will have them surrounded, and you will be able to go in and out with ease.”

A new set of feet approach the men and they both look to the sound, watching as Natalia peers beyond the trees.

“Is that... Sharon?” She questions softly, her eyes on the blonde beta who is almost like a sister.

“Yes,” James nearly growls.

With a deep breath, he turns away from the fortress to address his men.

“I need archers in the trees, and people on watch. We rest, we eat, and then we fight.”

~*~

“Sir, I have news from Veronia!” A young man exclaims, riding in swiftly on horseback.

The man looks up at the rider, grateful to finally have a distraction from Lady Sharon and all her complaints.

“Yes, what is it?”

He dismounts his horse and approaches the pair.

“The King rides with his guard to Lothiella, the dead Queen in tow.”

Confusion colours all their faces as they exchange glances.

“The Queen remains here, imprisoned, as she should,” Sharon says, confused.

“Aye, I know. So who, then, is he bringing to Lothiella?” The rider asks.

“No one,” The man murmurs, his eyes flickering across the forest and then across his men.

“Someone within these walls is a terrible traitor,” his eyes slowly rise to the rider before him and he unsheathes his sword, following the young man as he takes slow steps back.

“I-I wouldn’t, sir! You know that!”

The older man grabs his collar and yanks him closer.

“Then you will have no issue finding who the traitor is and delivering me their head, will you?”

“N-no m’lord.”

He releases the boy and pushes him back a step, “good. That’s what I thought.”

He turns and storms off, Lady Sharon hot on his heels.

“Something is amiss,” he whispers, mostly to himself, but the broad hears.

“What? What could possibly be amiss? Even if the King is marching this way, we have more men than he could possibly have. We have more resources, and, above all else, we have you.” Her hands curve over his shoulders, caressing him gently, sensually, but he wants none of it.

What he wants is his revenge, served on a silver platter.

“Ready yourself for battle. We cannot wait until the full moon. We must march sooner.”

If it’s true, and the King has made for Lothiella, then that leaves his Kingdom unprotected. And what better time to take it than now? Perhaps he’ll even have an opportunity to enjoy the Queen before King James returns.

“Why march? Why not allow him to bring the fight to us? We have the stronghold, we know the land. He does not.”

“He is a King who knows every inch of his Kingdom. And, if he is to march, he will have the upper hand on the hill. We will be no match for it, regardless of our numbers. Now go. Leave me.”

With a scowl on her face, she does as commanded, leaving to prepare herself for battle.

He stands alone for a long while, a thousand thoughts playing out in his mind and oh, how he wishes she were here.

But if she were, none of this would be happening.

And that is why the King must die.

Why things must change.

Why an empire must fall.

~*~

“You have all followed me here today because you trust me... you believe in me... you believe me to be the King I am. A man who will lead you to victory and to greatness,” James begins, looking out across the sea of men before him.

“This is not a training exercise, nor is it a game. This is a war. One that will be won, not by words, nor by brute strength. It will be won by men! Fighting men who believe in the power and will of the Gods! Men who know better than to turn on their King! It will be won by you lot here! Men with wives, with children! Men who deserve this victory!”

The air is energized quickly as the men get more mentally prepared, inspired by the King’s words.

“I would give my life, protecting my Kingdom. And each of you has shown that you would do the same. And you will be heavily rewarded when we return home! Mount the heads of your enemies on your walls! Feast on the blood spilled from their bodies! Show them no mercy!” He shouts, unsheathing his sword and raising it up to the heavens.

“No mercy!” Swords all raise toward the sky, and James feels hope bloom in his chest as he turns to Elden.

“Start your way down now, but do not enter until you hear the battle start.”

The Prince nods his understanding, his mind focused solely on saving you, no matter the cost.

He could lose his own life and he would not care. As long as you’re safe, that’s all that matters to him.

With a last bow of respect, he slips away from the army and makes his way to the fortress, thanking his lucky stars when he gets to the side of the building without being spotted.

He presses himself against the cold stone exterior, his breath shallow as he waits for the sound of battle.

“Look there! An army!”

He hears the shout from a distance, and then comes the sound of men clamouring to prepare for battle.

“All men out front! Shields up!”

He recognizes that voice as one of the men from the King’s council, and knows then and there that now is his chance.

It’s now or never.

He drops to the ground and pries the bars of the window apart, then slides into the dungeon with grace, dropping to the floor with a soft thud.

“(Y/n)?!” He looks to the cell he remembers you being in, his heart dropping into his stomach when he sees you chained to the ceiling, your face lifeless and cold.

He rushes to you, grabbing a knife from his belt and slicing through the cloth around your wrists.

You tumble into him and he carefully lowers you to the ground, two fingers finding your neck, searching for a pulse.

“(Y/n), please. Please wake up,” he begs, tears threatening to stab at his eyes.

Your brows draw together right as he feels the steady thumping beneath his fingers.

Slowly, your eyes open, foggy at first, but after a few blinks everything clears up.

“Elden?” You ask in a whisper, confused at his presence.

“Yes. I’m here. I’m getting you out of here and returning you to Veronia.”

You push yourself to your knees then attack him in a tight hug, tears quickly flooding your eyes.

“You came back!” You cry, not even bothering to try and hide your true feelings.

He hugs you back tightly, nodding.

“Of course I did. Now come, we must leave, quickly.”

You nod and allow him to help you to your feet, stumbling slightly with every step you take.

Perhaps you should’ve eaten more of the gruel they offered. At least then you’d be able to defend yourself. But instead, here you are, relying on the strength of your brother to get you out of the fortress.

One of his arms stays secured tightly around your waist while the other holds his sword, prepared to slay anyone who gets in his path.

He leads you up a flight of stairs and through a dark corridor, then shoulders open a door into a great hall, only to have a sword pressed to his throat the moment he enters.

“I knew someone would try to free the whore. I half expected it to be the King and, I must say, I’m a little disappointed I won’t be able to slay him where he stands,” she muses, grinning wickedly at the two of you.

Elden slowly releases your waist then swipes his sword upward, knocking hers away from his throat.

He takes a defensive stance in front of you, his attention only half on the battle at hand as he tries with all his might to protect you.

Sharon sidesteps a blow and manages to knock your brother onto his back, swiftly kicking his sword away and rendering him helpless.

“Please, don't!” You try, stumbling forward a step.

“It’s a pity, really. You seem like a decent fellow. And now you must die for the stupidity of your sister.” She raises her sword and goes to strike, and you close your eyes tightly, refusing to witness the murder of your brother. Instead of hearing metal slicing through flesh, you hear the clash of a sword against another sword.

Natalia stands before Sharon, her sword blocking the Beta’s.

Elden scrambles back, grabbing his sword off the ground and rushing to your side again as the redhead and the blonde face off.

“You would fight me, your sister, for a man who cares more about some whore than he does his own people?” Sharon demands, glaring daggers into Natalia’s eyes.

She grinds her teeth together and shakes her head, “no. I would fight you to serve she who is my Queen.”

Elden takes that as his cue to leave, wrapping his warm around your waist and helping you through the great room as Nat keeps Sharon’s attention.

“I do not wish to kill you, sister,” the beta whispers.

Nat only chuckles softly. “You won’t get the chance.”

Their swords clashing is the last thing you hear before Elden gets you outside the fortress and into the fresh air.

You take deep breaths of it, having missed the feeling of the wind on your face, but your relief is short-lived.

Instead of the peace of nature, you’re greeted with a bloodbath.

And, right in the centre, are the two men who have caused you the most pain in your life, fighting each other to the death.

James fights with practiced skill, his age not slowing him like so many believed it would. If anything, it gives him more power than his opponent.

The soldiers around give them a wide berth, knowing that they are each other’s opponents, a kill meant solely for the other.

James swipes the traitor's knees and sends him to the ground, then presses the tip of his sword to the man’s chest.

He pants on the ground, blood dripping down his chin as he grins at the King.

“I understand why you took her the way you did, now,” he begins, ignoring the anger in the King’s eyes. “Why you forced her to submit. She looked so pretty, screaming and crying and begging me to stop. But I didn’t. Because she deserves to be treated like the filthy, worthless whore she is!” He spits the words -and a bit of blood- into James’ face, and the King is enraged.

A roar tears from his throat as his eyes burn brighter than the fiery pits of hell, any shred of humanity gone as his Alpha takes over completely.

He tosses his sword aside and pounces on the man, laying punch after painful punch to his face and neck and anywhere he can reach.

He doesn’t care if it isn’t honourable. He doesn’t care if it’s weak.

All that matters is punishing the man who hurt his Omega.

You watch in horror as your Alpha beats on the man who hurt you.

Dragging Elden through the battle, you move as quickly as you can toward them.

“Stop!” You shout, your voice stronger than you thought it would be.

It carries out on the wind, across the courtyard, and many men do, indeed, stop.

Your husband is one of them.

With his fist raised and ready to strike again, he stops, snapping his gaze to the source of your voice.

Everything seems to pause as you approach, pushing away from Elden to walk on your own, determination and anger fuelling you.

Your eyes sting and clouds cover the skies as the Gods mirror your wrath.

“I should do to you exactly what it is you did to me,” you hiss at the man on the ground, pulling a sword from a corpse as you pass it and approach him.

“I should beat you senseless,” you spit, the fire in your voice rivalling that in your husband's eyes.

“I should take you against your will, force you to do things you’d sooner die than do!” You stop before him, sword held tightly in your hand as you press it to his throat.

James rises silently and steps back, allowing you to do whatever it is you please to the man.

“I should strip from you your pride, your dignity! Steal your hope and your faith until you are nothing but a shell of who you once were! And then, when you are begging for a fate so kind as death, I will not grant it.”

You lean down slightly so that your face is closer to his and drop your voice to a whisper, your bottom lip quivering.

“But I will not. Because I am not like you.”

You toss the sword aside and rise to your full height again.

“You will answer for your crimes the way all criminals do. And you will die a pointless, senseless death. Without honour, without victory. Your name will not be breathed of in the history of this country, and your very existence will be erased. All this,” you motion around you, to the fighting that has ceased, “will have been for nothing.”

Fury gathers on the man’s face as you step back again, your husband nodding toward him.

“Bind him and bring him to the dungeon.”

Two men grab him and drag him out of your line of sight, but you can hear them treating him roughly.

Good, you think.

Your hands tremble slightly and the weight of everything that has happened slowly slips from your shoulders, only to be replaced by the familiar and welcome weight of your husband’s hands.

“Omega,” he whispers, turning you to face him.

You look up at him with wide tear-filled eyes and bury yourself in his chest.

He’s caught off guard for only a moment before wrapping you in a tight hug, squeezing you as if he’s trying to melt your body into his.

Tears rain down your face when you pull away to look up at him, and he immediately leans down to nuzzle against your bond mark.

He kisses and licks it, scenting you thoroughly and calming down the raging alpha within himself.

Once he’s satisfied that you smell of nothing but him, he pulls away slightly and gazes lovingly into your eyes, tears on his own cheeks.

“Omega,” he repeats, stroking your cheek gently.

You lean into his touch and reach up with hesitant fingers, tracing over his lips gingerly.

“Alpha,” you reply, lost in the feeling of having him again.

He shakes his head and brings his forehead down to rest against yours, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I thought... I thought I’d lost you forever,” he confesses.

You lean up to brush your lips against his, “I’m here, Alpha. You saved me.”

A growl rumbles in his chest and he wraps his arms around your frame again, needing to feel you against him.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady thumping of his heart as he addresses his men.

“Any man who wishes to fight against us may do so. But he will be killed, along with his family.”

Not a single man moves a muscle.

“That’s what I thought. Round up the traitors, bind them all. They will be tried when we return,” he says to Sam, his hands never leaving you.

“Go home, Your Majesty. Be with your Omega. We can handle this,” Elden says softly, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

James bows his head in gratitude and nods his agreement, taking your hand and leading you away from the bloody field.

He helps you onto his horse then climbs on in front of you, waiting until your arms are wrapped around his waist before he begins the journey home.

Upon his horse, with your arms around him and your head pressed against his back, your inner omega finally feels peace.

#bucky x reader #alpha!bucky x reader #alpha!king!bucky x omega!reader #alpha!king!bucky x reader #king!bucky x princess!reader #bucky x reader abo au #bucky x reader abo #alpha!Bucky x omega!reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #Steve Rogers/you #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky/y/n #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader princess au #bucky x reader king au

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Yours to Claim

King!Bucky x reader

Warnings: angsty, SMUTT, flufff, Arranged marriage, virginity loss, marriage consummation, bit of bleeding, King Bucky is a sexy, loving, protective warning.

You stood in your new chambers, fidgeting with the lace of your dress, eyes flickering to the various pieces of art work that decorated the walls; moments earlier you had signed your life away to a man you had never met before in exchange for an alliance over war.

A promise of peace if the two kingdoms united; an easy fix at no one’s expense.

Except yours.

You flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut, the king, and now your husband, silencing the hushed whispers on the other side before making his way over to you. Even if his advisors and servants were now quiet, you knew at least one would be lingering around the door way, listening.

Waiting.

You still hadn’t seen him properly, having kept your gaze down to mask the tears that had threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. To your surprise, he didn’t drag you to bed like you expected; instead he strode past and removed some of the many layers he wore for the ceremony before standing in front of you again.

“I hope everything's been to your liking princess-” You were caught off guard with his question, your eyes flicking up, surprised to find soft blue ones looking down at you. “-and that you’ll be happy here”

He cared about your happiness?

You nearly scoffed at the thought but his voice was sincere, not a hint of malice found. You hadn’t noticed before but he had a handsome face; a beautifully carved jaw under his his dark beard, delicately sharp nose, soft pink lips and if you looked for a moment to long, you’d get lost in his eyes.

Shaking the thought away you focused back to the matter at hand. It had to happen one way or another. You agreed to this for your kingdom, there was no point in having second thoughts now.

“They’ll be expecting us to...” Your voice trailed off, glancing off to the side at the large bed that was set in the middle of the spacious room, soft silken sheets and thick lush pillows neatly arranged by the castle maids. You knew how this worked. Love and affection didn’t matter, your marriage wouldn’t be considered legitimate until...

And if you didn’t-

One day you were living your life, preparing for the day you’d have the throne and now you were here.

To be seen in a way no one else ever had.

Touched in places no one dared lay their hands on.

You were now his property.

You tried to push the anxiety that started to claw at your mind, making your way over to the bed and sitting up right as you were taught, waiting for the man you were now tied to, to consummate the marriage. Your breath hitched as you felt the bed dip down beside you from where the king sat, surprised to feel his warm hand gently lay on top of yours, giving you a comforting squeeze.

“Princess we don’t have t-

“I want to” you tried to sound confident but your voice wavered, your breath hitching again when he tilted your chin to look at him, your eyes struggling to hold his gaze.

“This is my kingdom” he said with a firmness that was not directed at you but rather towards the distain he had for the rules that had put you in such a position in the first place, “I’d never force you to do anything, princess” The slight growl in his voice made your heart skip a beat; yet again, there was only sincerity in his words.

However, it was far more complicated for you.

You didn’t want to fail the very duties that had been instilled in you from the day you were born, not wanting the sacrifice you made for your family to go to in vain if anyone dared question the fulfilment of your wedding night.

“I want this” You looked directly at him with confidence but your eyes gave away your vulnerability.

“Then I’ll make it good for you, pretty one” He murmured, the pulse in your veins quickening when his hands came to cup your cheek as he moved you to lay down on his bed. He carefully tugged at the ribbons of your corset, freeing you from the constricting garment and tossing it aside before slipping off the rest of your dress. You felt exposed, lying bare against the cool sheets while he undressed himself; you couldn’t help but glance over at his toned body as he discarded his own clothes, corded muscles running under tan skin, scars from battle decorating his body

The worst was the scarring along his left shoulder, angry jagged lines running from his neck to his shoulder blade, some of the scars extending to his chest and arm. There were divots in his skin from where the cuts ran deeper than others.

It made him beautiful.

You looked away as his pants fell around his ankles leaving him in his all naked glory, feeling hot under his gaze. You instinctively squeezed tightly together, arms draped across your naked chest to cover your modesty. Your eyes were trained on the tapestry that was hung across the room, biting your lip when you felt him crawl onto the bed, kneeling before you, his knees on either side of your legs, bare skin touching yours.

“You’re allowed to look, princess” The king smirked at your flustered state, “I belong to you just as much”

You swallowed thickly, flicking your eyes back to him, involuntarily gripping the sheets finally seeing all of him from his long dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders, his frame broad and solid. A shiver ran down your spin as you continued to trail your eyes further down to his thick length, veins running along the shaft, curved towards him.

You were confused as he moved to lay down beside you, having expected him to lie on top instead but he didn’t; instead he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving your arm to uncover your breasts. You held your breath as he laid them aside, your nipples peaking against the cool air, still waiting for him to shove your legs apart and take what he wanted.

“You’re sure, princess?” He whispered, his face by yours, letting his warm hand rest on your tensed stomach, humming when you hesitantly nodded.

You bit a gasp as his fingers trailed down your body, coaxing your thighs apart, softly caressing the sensitive flesh as you tried to squeeze your legs together. He let out a soft chuckle, moving your thighs apart again, your eyes growing wide when his fingers dipped into your folds, smearing the slick that started to pool between your legs.

“I- you shouldn’t-” You didn’t understand what he was doing, your mind reeling when he moved his fingers close to where you were more sensitive, making it harder for you to control the noises that wanted to slip through.

“I should know every part of my wife” He trailed his fingers back up, watching you intently, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk when he brushed over your swollen bundle of nerves, a gasp escaping you when he pressed his fingers tips against it, “Her most sacred places”

Your breaths quickened, your walls quivering with need, a feeling you had never experienced before, already melting into the pleasure he was giving you.

“I made a promise to take care of you” he started to rub soft circles around your clit, humming and the moan you tried to bite back, your lip caught between your teeth. He pulled his hand away from your soaked cunt, his thumb still glistening with your arousal tugging down on your lip making you gasp.

“You don’t ever have to silence yourself with me princess” His voice dropped an octave, jaw clenched, the meaning behind his words deeper than wanting to hear how pretty you sounded as he pleasured you. He caressed down your body till he found your clit again, rubbing you with such care, building a steady rhythm that had all your nerves lit on fire. A coiling pleasure wound tighter and tighter with each stroke of his fingertips.

“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever touched” His hands had seen war, violence and bloodshed, scars and callouses evidence of his bravery and fierce loyalty to his kingdom.

And now to you.

“Such softness deserves to be loved” he whispered, dipping his head down to your chest, taking your nipple between his lips, gently suckling while continuing to rub slow deliberate circles around your clit. “And worshipped”

Your body moved on its own, your thighs spreading apart, giving him more access to you, your back arching off the bead, needy moans and whimpers filling the room as he switched to your other breast.

“Ooh-it feels-mmphh-” You couldn’t formulate words, hands blindly gripping at the sheets, squirming as he rubbed faster, a fiery pleasure starting to crawl down your spine. You could feel his hard length press against your thigh, your fingers twitching to wrap around him and soothe the ache of his swollen cockhead, his pink tip wet and leaking. He noticed your gaze flick down before looking away, loving your sweet innocence.

“You’re allowed to touch me, princess” He murmured against your cheek, taking your hand, trailing it between your bodies, moving it to wrap around his thick length. He moved your hand along his velvety shaft, his cock hard and throbbing against in your soft palm, “Every part of me is yours now too”

You let out a whimper, hesitantly dragging your hand up and down, learning to build a rhythm he seemed to respond to, listening to the low grunts and groans he made when you twirled your hand around the tip before stroking all the way back down to the base.

“Is-is this okay” Had he not been right beside you, he would have missed the whisper of your voice, a smile gracing is lips as you awaited his answer.

“Of course, princess” James rubbed tighter circles around you, determined to get you make you shatter in pleasure before taking you apart all for himself, wanting every intimate moment you spent with him pure bliss for you. You signed your life to him; he was going to cherish that in every way possible.

“oh-please-p-please!” Your eyes rolled back, your clit swelling as warmth began to spread throughout your body, the coil ready to snap, just a bit more- “Please-” You didn’t even know what you were begging for, your body chasing the building pressure that was holding you right over the edge. You found yourself tugging and stroking him faster, coaxing him to move closer, guiding him to where you needed him most, your cunt clenching, making a mess all over the sheets. His hips rutted in your hand as he slotted himself between your legs, keeping his body weight off you, propped on one arm as he lay above you.

“Please?” Your eyes were glassy, skin hot, a concoction of nervousness, excitement, lust and desire coursing through you as you moved your hands to grip onto his thick shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” His hand softly petted your hair, eyes swimming with concern, the blunt tip of his cock throbbing against your leaking cunt.

“Take me” you whispered, feeling your heart rate quicken when he reached down between your bodies to line himself up, pressing against your entrance. You whimpered, letting your nails dig into his skin at the burn, feeling his the tip of his cock push into you, stretching your tight cunt apart.

“Shhhhh” He cooed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pushed in further, trailing kisses down your nose to your lips, your grip nearly breaking the skin on his back. “I won’t hurt you princess”

You could feel his back muscles tense, focused on filling you slowly, finally joining together in a way that made you husband and wife.

“J-James” You didn’t even consider that you’d called him by his named instead of title, too lost in the feeling of him claiming you, hot pain and pleasure radiating through your body at the foreign sensation.

“I know, I know” he nodded against your neck, his cock splitting you open further, wider at the base. “Breathe, breathe, I have you” He could feel your pussy flutter and squeeze his length, trying to accommodate for his girth. He pulled away from your neck to brush the hairs that clung to your forehead, his thumb gently smoothing the crease between your brows.

“Look at me princess” he whispered against your lips as your cracked your eyes open, the sting slowly melting when you got lost under his blue gaze. He kissed your temple, lips pressed against your skin, your own nails clawing into his back as he fully sheathed himself inside you.

“May I?” He asked, giving you time to adjust to the feeling, only beginning to slowly rock his hips when you nodded, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, thighs squeezing his tapered waist.

“Feels-good” You let out a breathy moan, your legs trembling as he barely pulled out, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, pushing you into the mattress. You clung around his body as he let his weight drop on you, keeping you covered under him while moving faster, his hand coming to lace with yours.

“So good to me” He rasped, squeezing your hands in his, moaning when he felt your pussy pull him right back in every time he pulled away. It was like you were made for him, every curve and dip of your body molded perfectly with his, your tight wet heat swallowing him entirely, taking every inch he was willing to give you. “You’re mine now”

“No one’s ever going to hurt you princess” His eyes hardened making your cheeks heat up under his protective gaze, dark hair falling around you in a curtain of intimacy. Your family may have married you off to bring peace to the land but he was not going to use that to his advantage to use you. He would take care of you and treat you like the queen you were, protecting his newest most prized treasure. You mewled against his lips, a stray tear slipping past your eyes, his lips kissing them away, a stark contrast to the way his cock was hitting deeper in your cunt, kissing your cervix as he fucked into you.

“I promise” he kissed your wrist, before pinning it against the mattress beside your head, thrusting faster, your moans loud enough to let the next kingdom over know you were at your husbands complete mercy in the most intimate and primal way possible.

“James-James-please-I” Your chest was pressed against his, eyes pleading for your release. He groaned, angling his hips to rub sensitive spot deep inside you making you see stars, spots starting to cloud your vision, the band ready to snap again. He panted, working his hips faster, rolling them, coaxing you further and further to the edge. He could feel his own orgasm ready to burst, gritting his teeth, determined to take care of yourself before giving into his own.

“Let go my princess, let go for me, I have you”

“JAMESS”

He held you tightly as you fell apart on his cock, moaning at the sting of your nails dragging down his body. Your cunt milked and squeezed him, desperate for him to give you everything drop he had. He wrapped his arms around your body, tucking his face against your neck, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh, unable to hold back when he felt your hands card through his hair, softly grazing his scalp before giving it a gentle tug.

“Let-let go for me” You whispered softly in his ear, wanting him to know you accepted him just as much as he accepted you, needing him to understand you saw him as your husband, not just your king. “My James”

“My princess” He groaned against your skin, pushing himself as deep as your body would allow, hot spurts of his seed filling you till it dripped onto the sheets. He continued to softly rut into you, riding through both your highs until he was spent, his cock beginning to soften inside you.

“I have you, I have you angel” He whispered, rubbing up and down your back, his nose buried in your hair, kissing down the column of your neck to your shoulders. “Do you feel alright”

You whimpered at the loss of him as he pulled out, a dull soreness beginning to settle between your legs. Your eyes grew wide at the dots of red that stained the sheets, pouting when you felt a loss of warmth as your husband sat up.

“Lie down angel” He cooed, moving you to lay on his side of the bed and tucking you under the plush sheet before swinging his long legs to the edge of the bed. You reached out for him, your fingers softly grasping at his wrist, wanting to feel him hold you when you felt so vulnerable.

“But-”

“I’m going to take care of your princess. I told you, you’re mine now. Mine to care for” He made his way over to the water that was set aside in the room, dipping a clean cloth to dampen it before making his way back over to you. He carefully wiped you down, between sweet words of how he’d forever put you first, a vow he made when he agreed to marry you. He wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks before getting up again to toss away the cloth.

He caught a glance of himself in the mirror, his skin now decorated with new marks left by you, a proud smirk gracing his lips, happy to add a scar, this battle being his favorite one of all.

The one to your heart.

One he’d have to earn with patience and love, this night being the first of many.

“The sheets-” You blinked up at him as he slipped between the covers, pulling you to his chest, cocooning you in his warmth.

“Will be for my eyes only” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, deciding he’d only allow your ladies in waiting to ever enter the chambers, ones that were loyal to you and that you trusted. “You’ll be safe with me”

You relaxed in his hold, closing your eyes and falling asleep to the steady beat of his heart, the anxieties that clawed at your chest disappearing into the night, your heart melting for the man you now were honored to call yours.

The king.

Your James.

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crazyunsexycool · 3 months

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You should see me in a crown

Coming soon… series taglist is open just comment. must be 18+ minors DNI

Prince!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Modern royalty AU

You were a princess.

At least that’s what your father had been telling you since the day you were born. In reality you lived in a two story house with your parents in a random neighborhood. It didn’t stop them from giving you everything you could ever want or need. From piano to dance classes, tea parties and dresses. When you grew up you were determined to go to law school and you did with their support. The one thing they never talked about was their homeland or your father’s family. They taught you all about traditions but whenever the subject was brought up they would quickly shut it down. So it wasn’t a surprise when you planned a vacation with your best friend that would take you to a few countries in Europe, including their homeland. You only wanted to have a life changing experience.

And you would.

James Buchanan Barnes was the crowned prince of his home country. He was next in line to become king. Every day that passed was a reminder of it. His parents’ words echoed in his head constantly. He needed to settle down and get married, start a family. All in the name of the crown. Bucky was more than ok doing that, he just wanted to do it with someone he loved. Yet love was the one thing royalty rarely found. His reputation of being a playboy didn’t help when it came time to settle down either. It came as no surprise that his parents became matchmakers.

Two worlds are turned completely upside down. Bucky wants a chance to find love. You desperately seek to connect to your roots. Hearts are broken and truths are revealed.

#you should see me in a crown series #prince!bucky barnes #prince!bucky #modern royalty au #Prince!bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes au #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes x female!reader

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 months

Text

The King's Last Concubine

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

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

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Bingo Fills - @buckybarnesbingo Square U1 - Kink: Concubine

Master list | BBB Master list

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

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

Chapter word count: 10.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The ladies fell into disarray.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just over six months, Your Majesty.”

“And you like living in the Little Palace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They appear to be getting on well.”

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

“Your Majesty.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And how do you feel about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, my lady?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He peered at you, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On your face.

On your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head. “Bucky, remember?”

“Bucky,” you agreed.

The End

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