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[voiceoffenrisulfr]

The German and the American

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Winter x Greg (Bucky Barnes x Original Male Character)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> After Tony learns the truth of his parents' demise, he makes it his mission to destroy the Winter Soldier. Fortunately, the Soldier has someone on his side.

Or: Bucky's time in Russia serves him well.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4620

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Post-Civil War strife, hunted man, gagged and dragged. Smut.

𝐀/𝐍 -> For my sweet sailor - a German of a different kind, though just as magical. Please read the warnings. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

Prompts used; - ‘Anonymous Sex’ – @anyfandomdarkbingo; - ‘“Kneel For Me.”’, ‘Paying Debts’ – @avengers-assemble-bingo; - ‘Suddenly Toe Sucking (Unexpected/Undisclosed Kinks)’ – @badsexbingo; - ‘German’ – @secretcrypticevents Bingo;

- ‘Face Fucking’, ‘Oral Sex’, ‘Standing Sex’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Rough Sex’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Last of Your Kind’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition); - ‘Crush or Gender Goals?’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Gingerbread Edition); - “Were You Spying on Me?!” – Fandom-Free Bingo (Gingerbread Edition); - ‘Saved By a Beautiful Stranger’, “What Did I Tell You? Quiet as a Mouse.” – Fandom-Free Bingo (Tolkien Edition); - ‘Forest Birds’ – Fandom-Free Bingo (Tolkien Edition); - “I’m Sorry, Who Are You?”, ‘Giving Themselves Up or Keep Coming Back’ – @julybreakbingo (6x6); - ‘Dry Orgasm or Wet and Messy’ – July Break Bingo (Summer).

Even in my speed, I made less sound than my pursuers. But they had the advantage - the chopper overhead tracked my body heat, driving the circle of gun-toting militants ever closer.

Goddamn Stark and his money…

I was no stranger to being on the run. I’d evaded armies and governments and mercenaries, and I’d put down more targets than I could count – or even remember – without attracting a scrap of attention.

But I’d never had a furious, vengeful billionaire baying for my blood before now.

The forest birds grew quiet as my armed noose tightened, their attempts at silence making my eyes roll despite the danger.

Until a hand clasped over my mouth, pulling me bodily against a hard chest as I struggled, boots kicking up dry leaves.

“Stop,” a quiet, accented voice growled in my ear. “They will find you.”

No matter how I struggled and strained, I was helpless, eyes widening in panic as a horrified realisation dawned.

Someone must have figured it out.

The only person who had been a match for me a battle of strength since HYDRA had toyed with me was Steve – until now.

If anyone had the resources and intelligence to do it, it would be Howard Stark’s son…

The arm around my waist tightened and I stumbled as they pulled me backwards, supporting my body weight effortlessly when I lost my footing. Branches and brambles tore at my clothes, probing and snagging, and I grunted against the palm over my mouth when thistles scraped against the mangled stump at my shoulder.

I hissed in surprise as I was pulled downwards, dragged into a dank hole in the ground, wet earth scoring along the back of my calves. The spot of sunlight receded as I was forced into the dark, the sounds of my pursuers becoming muffled, my feet shifting in an effort to find purchase and halt my unanticipated descent.

My heel snagged on a root and my captor sprawled as I was jerked free, biting hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from growling as pain flared through my ankle. No sooner had I fought my way to my feet, however – scrambling in the darkness – than fingers closed around the injured site, followed by a body covering mine as I was pulled flat once more, pressing me into the earth and filling my nose with the scent of wet dirt.

“Enough,” they spat, a knee on the base of my spine holding my wriggling form down. “I am trying to help. Stop fighting me.”

“Let me go – face me like a man,” I snarled, struggling to free my arm from where our combined weight had pinned it beneath me.

“I am not interested in fighting you!” they snapped, a hand finding the space between my shoulder blades to halt my squirming. “I am saving your life – if you would only let me!”

Tired from straining against this seemingly immovable mass – and reluctantly acknowledging that the only harm that had been done here was that which I’d caused myself in my struggling – I slowly fell still, panting hard against the dirt. “Fine. Just- Get off me.”

They waited for a moment longer, seeming weighing up any possible risk I posed, before slowly shifting their weight from me, allowing me to drag myself into an uncomfortable sitting position, squinting into the darkness. Despite my enhanced eyesight, the sun was too distant to make out anything more than a vaguely humanoid shape, crouching opposite in the narrow tunnel.

“Who are-”

They turned and continued along the slow decline, almost silent, moving with a speed borne of familiarity. With one last, uncertain glance over my shoulder at the pinprick of daylight, I began to follow, my hand trailing along the wall to steady myself.

It took several minutes of blundering in the darkness for to realise that the top of my head was no longer skimming the roof of the tunnel. Slowly, hesitantly, I straightened my legs, my spine creaking and grinding in protest as I stood upright. Moving forward was easier without the added difficulty of being bent double, and I soon felt the ground cease its decline beneath my feet, becoming drier and firmer.

Next came the light. Not much, at first – just the sudden awareness that I could make out my fingers still trailing along the wall of the tunnel, ghostly pale in the darkness. It took only a dozen paces more to begin to see the dim glow ahead.

I rounded a corner and the light intensified, flickering on a dust-strewn floor, candles and torches shifting in an infinitesimal breeze. The creature – the man – stood before me, unabashed by his nudity even as I averted my eyes. But I found myself quite unable to keep my gaze away, trailing over broad shoulders and defined muscles with automatic appreciation.

His own eyes, as deep russet as the ground he inhabited, bore into mine.

His head cocked and he paused for a moment, hyperfocused, before relaxing into an easy smile. “What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. They have lost your trail.”

The smug self-confidence made me glower, unimpressed. “You can hear them?” I scoffed incredulously when he nodded, focusing my own senses along the winding tunnel we’d followed. I could pick out the movement of creatures in the dirt and his steady, unconcerned heartbeat.

“They were getting close. Would have caught you. You are welcome,” he added, brows knitting together in irritation at my lack of gratitude.

“I never asked for your help,” I snapped back. “I’m sorry – who the hell are you, anyway?”

The furrowed brow shifted, one raising. “Am I so forgotten in the world of men that even a Russian doesn’t recognize a German?”

“I’m American,” I corrected, “And you don’t sound very German.”

“Not ‘German’,” he echoed, mirroring my emphasis, “Ger-man. A weather spirit. Even if you are not Russian, you are one who knows much of Russia. How is it that my kind have fallen so far from Siberian minds?”

I shrugged a shoulder, irritated by his maudlin detour. “Well, yes – I’ve spent a lot of time here, but I wasn’t exactly sitting around listening to fairy stories and myths. You’re insane, and I have to be going, so if you don’t mind-”

I’d turned back toward the tunnel as I spoke, but as soon as I stepped from the room, a fierce wind whipped down the passage, sending me sprawling unceremoniously on my ass.

“Leave if you wish,” he growled, his voice low and deadly. “But do not dare insult the one who saved you.”

I looked over my shoulder as the wind died, finding him stood over me with a scowl, hand lowering, and my mouth worked wordlessly. “… There’s no way,” I muttered eventually. With a smirk, he flicked his fingers in my direction, and I yelped as a brief but intense squall fell upon me, quickly soaking me to the bone and leaving me trembling with cold – and, I admitted distantly, fear.

“Who are you?” I asked again, quieter now, and with – embarrassingly – a hint of reverence. “How did you know that I needed- that I was being hunted? Were you spying on me?”

Another shift of his hand raised the temperature, my shivering subsiding, and his eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he considered me. “I know all who pass through my lands,” he replied at length, ignoring the first of my questions. “I have no need to ‘spy’, as you call it. The weather sees all. I recognized you the moment you stepped foot over my borders – different than before, but still the Cнежинка Cолдат – the snowflake soldier. More, in some ways. Less in others,” he added, sparing a glance and a sad smile for the ruined remnants of my left arm.

But I was blind to his sympathy, fingers curling into a fist by my side as I got quickly to my feet, a growl building in my chest. “So you are one of them. HYDRA. Another experimental attack dog doing their dirty work, huh? So what now – you drag me back to them and I have to do it all again – the brainwashing, the killing?” My voice had risen to a shout, dust and dirt raining lightly upon us, but he looked unmoved, which only added to my anger. “Well, I won’t! Do you hear me? I won’t go! I’ll die first. I’ll die before I let them-”

I’d moved closer in my fury, a heavy blow arcing toward the maddening creature’s head. But he caught my fist without the slightest indication of effort, halting my assault, both verbal and physical.

“I am not of those humans,” he answered quietly, his gaze soft and sincere as it met mine. “Not one of them, nor one of their creations. I am older than any one of them – older than the organisation, older even than the word itself. I predate humanity, let alone their petty cluster.” With a shrug, he released my hand, leaving me to flex my fingers uncomfortably. “My kind goes where they like, or where they are needed. You passed through my territory further north many times – though you were less then. Less… Colour,” he offered after a moment, frowning.

“Less colour seems right,” I agreed reluctantly, grimacing. “Less myself, certainly.”

With a nod, he squatted in the dust, inclining his head for me to join him. I was intrigued despite myself, and found myself mirroring his position opposite. Once more, I tried to keep my eyes from roaming over thick thighs and the sharp cut of his jaw, confusion bubbling inside me. I wasn’t sure if I longed to fuck him or be him, or some combination thereof.

He smirked as I blushed and averted my eyes once more, elbows resting on his knees. “Does nudity bother you, Cнежинка Cолдат?”

There it was again – Snowflake Soldier. The same name, but different somehow. I scowled at the heat in my cheeks, glowering. “Not in appropriate setting,” I snapped back, and he laughed aloud.

“Oh? And what ‘setting’ is that?” he pressed, making me squirm with embarrassment.

“Don’t play coy,” I replied, glaring. “It isn’t cute.”

His grin widened, white, even teeth glinting in the candlelight and sending a chill down my spine. “You seem flustered.”

“No.”

“Hm.”

I looked down, ignoring the amusement in his voice, and trailed a finger through the dust absently. “Thanks. For, uh… You know. Helping.”

He let out another low chuckle, pushing himself to his feet once more and stalking around the space thoughtfully. “You’re very welcome. Once upon a time, I was looked upon quite fondly. It is nice to feel useful again.”

“What did you do?” I prompted, curious about the seemingly ageless creature before me. His paces stuttered, a gentle frown briefly marring his features before it flickered and vanished, his cockiness returning.

“Oh, you know. Nothing too special – weather stuff. But, oh…” His smile returned once more, eyes turning misty as he remembered. “My kind were worshipped. Revered.”

“You were?” I prompted, unable to keep from sharing his grin at the ethereal joy gracing his features, and he nodded.

“Offerings, prayers, vigils… There were these dolls that they used to make – clay and woven grass, and ceramic and glass and metal as the times begin to change. And they often showed their appreciation after we brought the rains, too,” he added, smirking, and he raised a suggestive eyebrow when I simply blinked blankly, bringing a blush back to my cheeks.

“Oh.”

He snorted and nodded again, offering a sheepish shrug. “It was considered a great honour to lay with a German. Women would beg for the privilege.”

I scoffed, one eyebrow arching. “You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

His grin broadened, and he turned his back to me, kneeling to shift through long grasses at the perimeter of the room. My eyes instinctively followed the taut muscles of his back, teeth tugging gently on my lip as my gaze skirted the curve of his ass, both envious and aroused. When he straightened, I dropped my eyes quickly, grateful for the object in his hands upon which to focus my attention.

Moving to squat before me once, he offered the item to me, and I turned the statue over in my fingers gently, murmuring in surprise. “This is amazing…”

My hands shifted, and I gasped aloud with amusement and shock, quickly reddening. “That’s, uh…”

“Pronounced?” he offered, smirking, and I barked out a laugh.

“Pronounced,” I agreed, eyeing up the statue’s emphasised phallus reaching almost to his knees.

“A great honour,” he reminded me, his grin widening. “And an experience that they would never forget.”

Despite the voice in my head repeating that I shouldn’t look, really, don’t do it, don’t- I found my eyes flicking between his thighs where he squatted before me. His flaccid length was impressive, but not as surreal as the statue had suggested.

I feel like I’ve been slapped, there’s so much blood in my face…

“It’s somewhat emphasised,” he acknowledged, shaking his head in amusement, “though I’ve never had any complaints.”

“Is that why you saved me?” I asked, eyes narrowing as the thought struck me suddenly. “You’re becoming forgotten, and you wanted a way to get your dick wet again?”

His face became impassive, one eyebrow arching coldly. “I saved you because helping people is what I do. As I’ve said – you’re free to leave whenever you like.”

My lip found its way between my teeth, and I worried it uncertainly, a new kind of shame prickling uncomfortably under my skin at his offense. “I… I’m sorry,” I murmured, head lowering. “And- and I really am grateful. I… Don’t think I’d have been able to get out of there without you.” My hand found his arm, soft and unsure. “Thank you.”

Our gazes locked, and he offered me a weak smile. “It’s an honour to be of service again,” he replied quietly, tentative fingertips petting my hand.

“I’m… That is… I’m happy to repay my debt. However you’d like,” I added timidly, warmth flushing my cheeks once more.

There was a brief, shocked pause, and his eyebrows raised. “I only lay with eager and willing participants – not those who do so under duress or a sense of obligation, or-”

“No!” I interrupted quickly, hand tightening in alarm. “I- no, I- I was reluctant when I thought I didn’t- that there wasn’t- that is, that I didn’t have much choice.. But if it’s truly up to me…” I trailed off and flushed deeper, eyes lowering shyly.

“You’re sure?” he murmured, and I met his gaze once more as I swallowed dryly.

“I’d consider it a great honour,” I breathed, the teasing note to my voice falling flat as the air seemed to grow thicker around us.

And then he was knelt before me, his weather-roughened hand holding my jaw with unexpected tenderness as his mouth found mine and I let out a quiet whimper of surprise and pleasure, his lips twitching in a smirk. My own fingers moved to curl against the nape of his neck, resting there only for a moment before he drew back, pupils blown wide.

“Kneel for me,” he whispered.

Since I’d been freed from HYDRA control, I resented orders. Commands and demands had been met with a deadly glare; anything less than an entirely optional request was almost guaranteed to find me stubbornly doing the exact opposite.

But this order, issued so tenderly and with his fingertips ghosting affection over my jawline, I felt no drive to baulk. I could only nod, transfixed by the depth of desire in his eyes, and move without any thought of complaint or disobedience.

He stood before me and glanced down, humming as he considered the dirt streaking his body. His hands danced in a delicate, captivating display, filling the air around us with beads of water that coalesced into perfect droplets before swirling around him, his form becoming hazy through the self-summoned shower.

When the fine mist cleared, his skin shone, sun-kissed despite the cold climate he inhabited. I pressed trembling fingertips to his abdomen, finding the taut flesh damp and cool to the touch, mesmerised into silence. With a soft purr, his hand tangled in my hair, encouraging me closer to the cock I now found myself eyeing hungrily.

Distantly, acknowledged that I didn’t even know his name as he passed between my lips, and my eyes closed. The taste of him filled my senses, his grip on me guiding me slowly along his length as it thickened. His movements were gentle and courteous, even as my mouth began to strain around him, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of my throat.

Until his hand in my hair tightened, holding my head still as his hips moved faster, his length shifting between my lips as he groaned aloud. “Gods, that’s good,” he grunted, and my lids parted to gaze up at him, finding the black pupils like pits ringed only by the thinnest strip of mahogany. “That mouth is a thing of beauty,” he murmured, and I could only hum in response, tongue held fast by the weight of him.

When he drew back at last, letting me breathe – albeit with a reluctant whine – and I caught sight of his length in its entire glory, I bit my lip. I’d been with only one man before – my childhood best friend, Steve, who was on the higher end of ‘average’, even after Howard Stark had played around with his genes. He was the only one I had trusted enough to see me in my entirety, and his scrawny, pale body hadn’t been a big draw for him in our adolescence, either. We’d found an accord; an agreement that proved mutually beneficial and didn’t extend beyond the dark confines of one of our bedrooms.

But this was another thing entirely. My stomach ached at the thought of it, but the hand in my hair shifted to cup my chin, his thumb brushing gently over my cheekbone. “I’ll be gentle with you,” he assured me softly, and I nodded once. “On your feet, Cнежинка Cолдат.”

I obliged immediately, standing before him, my muscles tense and unsure. We were evenly matched for height, but he was, I admitted reluctantly, far stronger than I, and had powers I didn’t at his disposal. If he decided to take action I didn’t like, there would be little I could do about it.

But despite my reservations, I moved closer, letting his hands find the hem of my shirt and slide underneath to ghost over my skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. I raised my arm obediently as he lifted the fabric, my fingers moving self-consciously to raw stump of my shoulder, the vulnerable flesh visible through ragged cables and severed metal. He simply ignored the carnage, gaze roving over my exposed skin as his thumbs hooked in my jeans. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of my throat and earning a blush for his troubles. So entranced was I that I was barely aware of the fabric around my hips becoming loose and falling down my thighs until his fingertips on the base of my spine shifted me forward, and I kicked off my shoes as they snagged.

My palm found his chest and I took a half-step back, needing to think clearly. “I-I should- Before we… There’s something you-”

“I know, Cнежинка Cолдат,” he reassured me softly, his lips brushing against mine once more. “You have nothing to fear.”

I sighed into the kiss, tension melting from my muscles as his hands slid into the back of my underwear to cup my ass, kneading and squeezing as I whined against him. My shoulders met the wall with little notion of how I got there, and he dropped to his knees, trailing his mouth over the soft skin inside my thigh before working the boxers down my legs.

Shyness threatened to overcome me – but I hardly had time for the thought to occur before my knee was hooked over his shoulder and his lips were upon me, earning a gasp and shuddering groan of pleasure. If my mouth was beauty, then his was sin – the sounds I made echoed around us as I quivered, his tongue lapping hungrily at the wetness between my thighs. “God- F-fuck, you can’t- I can’t- Th-that’s n-not-” I trailed off into another deafening groan as he slipped his tongue inside me, humming with pleasure, the vibration making my back arch. “God, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

Obediently, he worked me harder, alternating between driving his tongue inside me and sucking lightly at my clit until my muscles trembled, fingers knotting needily in his hair. “Yes- please, yes, please, I-I-” With a grunt of acknowledgement, he buried his face further between my thighs, fingers tightening against my hip as I cried out, my own hands all but pinning him to me as stars exploded behind my eyes.

No sooner had I barely begun to unclench my muscles than he was on his feet, his mouth pressed to mine needily. The taste of my own orgasm made me whimper weakly, reaching for him, but my fingers had hardly grazed his hard length before I was turned, my cheek pressed into the dirt of the wall as he pulled my hips back.

“You taste so good,” he muttered, and I swallowed, feeling his tip probe lightly at my still-twitching hole. “So good… But I bet you’ll feel even better wrapped around me…”

True to his word, he was gentle as he pressed his way into me, his hand on my waist to guide me onto him, pausing with every minor gasp and whimper. I trembled desperately when I felt his pelvis meet mine, inebriated by the feeling of fullness, I squirmed, and he groaned. “Like a vice,” he hissed, his fingers scoring lines down the bare skin of my back. I could only pant and whine, my own nails clawing at the earth desperately. “So good…”

“Please,” I gasped, glancing over my shoulder to meet his gaze. “God, please, just- just move, just-”

The feeling of him dragging back, of leaving me empty and deprived, almost had me cursing my words. My knees had already begun to quiver with pleasure, the orgasm unravelled easily from my body by his talented tongue having taken its toll on my body despite the enhancements, and every minute movement had me mewling.

One hand snuck between my legs, while the other found my hair, pulling me tightly against his chest as I gasped. “Say please, Cнежинка Cолдат,” he breathed, and I shuddered with delight.

“Please- please, fuck me, I- I need you to fuck me, please…”

The fingers from my hair curled around my thigh, shifting my weight to set up a gruelling, earth-shattering pace, my body pressed firmly to the dirt wall as he obeyed willingly. The gentle fingers strummed me with expert precision, teasing and guiding, an elegant contrast to the bruising thrusts as he impaled me on his length.

Helpless. Held fast and unmade.

It was a situation I was painstakingly familiar with, but never in this way. Never had the act of being undone felt so much like a prayer. A blessing, not a curse. An act of devotion and passion, not hate and torture for torture’s sake. Base instinct given entirely new light.

And the ethereal glow seemed to radiate from my chest as he held me tighter, heat fizzing beneath my skin, every molecule of my body vibrating with the strength of it. I almost feared what was coming as the low keening took up residence in my voice and I lost all concept of time, knowing nothing of the wall that supported me or the ground beneath my feet. There was only this, now. The feeling of him moving inside me as he caressed me so deftly, mouth on the side of my throat, the bruises I knew were forming on the pale skin of my ass.

His voice surprised me when he spoke again – my wails seemed to fill the space so completely that I was surprised there was room for anything else.

“Come for me, Cнежинка Cолдат.”

The order was obeyed without question or hesitation, my vocal cords alight as I cried out, the vice-like clamping around his length almost painful as he continued to drive himself into me without mercy. Over and over his hips met mine, an arm around my waist becoming the only thing that kept me upright as I sobbed my pleasure weakly.

It wasn’t until my tremors had faded that he finally let himself surrender with a harsh grunt and one last, jerking thrust, burying his cock inside me as the warmth flooded my senses.

He looked down at me as I traced patterns on the bare, sweat damp skin of his chest, still dazed and disoriented. “An experience you’re likely to remember?” he asked softly, his own fingertips teasing my hair.

“An experience I’d very much like to repeat,” I replied, stretching languidly against him, a comfortable ache settling low in my abdomen. “I, uh… Quite liked being told what to do. Wouldn’t think I would, given everything – I don’t normally, but…” With an easy shrug, I smirked. “I suppose you just have that power over me, huh?”

He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to my doubtlessly dirt-streaked forehead, holding me closer against his side. “… I can keep you safe, you know.” I frowned, looking up at him, and he offered me an uncertain half-smile. “From whatever – whoever – is hunting you. I… I can look after you.”

“What about the others? Ones… Like you? And aren’t you needed? The things you told me, your job-”

“-has long lost its prevalence in this world,” he interrupted softly, the smile tinged with sadness. “Very few people still seek the services of my kind. Most of us are scattered, seeking other sources of satisfaction. Life, love… Companionship, I suppose.” Another shrug, and he rested his cheek on my hair. “I haven’t seen one of my own in a very long time. It’s not impossible that I am the last. And I can find meaning in this – and joy in your presence. You can be safe with me.”

“That’s all you want me to stick around for? So you’ve got something to do?” I clarified, a little incredulous, but made no attempt to move from where I lay against his side. He laughed sharply, and shook his head.

“I want you around because I enjoy your company, and – when you’re not biting my head off – I think you enjoy mine. I want you around because I enjoy you, and would like to make sure you’re safe.”

I considered his words – considered my place in the world now that I had a billionaire hell-bent on revenge. If asked a few months ago, I’d have been certain that the rest of my life would be spent catching up with Stevie, maybe sharing in a few more adventures before I met my end – probably in a dramatic and ridiculous way – whenever that may be. But now, kept apart by the actions of my past… I had nothing and nobody who needed me around.

I had no reason to stop myself from saying yes.

Well… Maybe one.

“I still don’t know your name,” I noted dryly, chin finding his chest to gaze up at him.

He smiled at that, teasing a hand through my hair. “I was named Grishenka, long ago. Though I suppose you can call me Greg.”

[ledatheswann]

📖"The Carrier"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC x Steve Rogers

Tags: a/b/o, sci-fi, space travel, alien species, m/f/m, interspecies sex, breeding kink, slavery, double penetration, knots, induced heats, forced drug use, dub con

Summary: On a trading voyage to the primitive outer rim, Steve and Bucky purchase their very own terran breeder to serve as carrier for their young.

Part I. "Patriots Populate"

By the time Bucky gets back from the canteen, he’s relieved to hear that the screaming has stopped … or at least lulled. He stands outside the domicile for a moment, straining to hear anything, but it’s quiet. 

He balances the food containers one atop each other and kicks the door’s sensor to get it to open, then once again to get it to close, reminding himself that he needs to put in a maintenance rec for that before Steve decides to divorce him. He peeks over the top of their dinners to take in the gods-only-knows how bad state of their living quart— Oh.

He lowers the containers, which he’d been using to buffer the expected scene of destruction that he thought he'd be returning to. But the room isn’t in any worse shape than it was when he left twenty minutes ago. In fact, a few things have been picked up, the chairs righted, the trinkets that the local population gifted them with put back into place. Bucky looks over at Steve, who’s seated on the couch, then at the terran, who appears to have collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, with her cheek plonked on the cushion right beside Steve’s knee. “Well,” Bucky says. “I see the drugs kicked in.”

Steve grunts. He’s sitting slumped back against the cushions, looking almost as tired as the girl. “Look, I love you and everything, but are we sure we’re ready for this?” He looks pointedly at the female as if to say, And enjoy more of this bliss? “There’s always adoption.”

Bucky snickers and goes to set the containers of food on the kitchen counter. “That’d cost more than three breeding slaves.” 

Steve blows air out between his teeth in unhappy agreement. “Right. I guess that’d kind of defeat the whole point.”

“‘Patriots Populate’,” Bucky quips, making air quotes around the tired Federation slogan. “Don’t worry. Children aren’t hard to raise, just to make.”

“She was so angry,” Steve worries out loud. “How do we know there isn’t something wrong with her?” 

Bucky leaves the question unanswered and comes over to sit on the opposite couch facing Steve and their newly-acquired terran. “She’ll calm down,” he decides. “They always do.” Steve purses his lips and continues to look the girl over critically. Bucky can see the distaste he has for her tattoos, so he decides to quash that before it even gets going. “Lasers,” he drawls. 

“An extra expense.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, because he’s the one who’s always a stickler for profit margins, not Steve. He can tell when his husband is angling for something, and he refuses to take the bait. “Half this system is primitive,” he says. “Any female we’d get out here would likely have them. It’s an easy fix, babe. Just be glad there aren't any on her face. You should see some of the ones down in cargo pop."

“She doesn’t even speak our language.”

“That’s what they chip ‘em for.” He stretches sideways to reach for the domicile’s datapad, navigating on screen. “Here. You want a standard Federation accent? or ‘exotic lilt’?” Steve glares at him, and Bucky shrugs and taps the screen. “‘Exotic lilt’ it is.” He glances at the girl’s slack neck to check that her implant’s receiving properly. The little blue light shows faintly through her skin, indicating that it is. “There,” he says, tossing the datapad aside. “She’ll have it down pat by the end of the day, I bet.” 

Steve scoffs. “Great. She can curse at us in a language we actually understand.” 

“Well what would you suggest, a gag?” Bucky snaps, losing some of his patience. “I don’t think they’ve worked out how to erase a native language yet, unfortunately, so unless you want to have her tongue removed … ?” Steve shoots him another reproachful look, and Bucky stops being gross (they’re slavers, but they’re not those kinds of slavers). “She’ll be fine,” he insists. “Can’t expect miracles on the first day.” 

Steve hesitates. “Look ... Maybe we should reconsider. Get someone once we’re back.”

Bucky groans and shuts his eyes. “Steve, no.”

“A centralized system would at least have—”

“Humongous fees and inner rim taxes that we can’t afford!” he snaps, not interested in having this discussion again. He gestures down at the unconscious girl on the floor. “Bruce did a full genetic mapping. A high compatibility breeder—that’s what you said you cared about, and Bruce says they’ve got the highest genetic match he’s seen in years.”

“Right!” Steve argues. “So we’ll be making great profit on this haul. Enough to afford—”

“Steve!” Bucky leans forward, pissed. He jabs his finger at his husband. “You may have forever to do this, but I don’t. My eggs are on a fucking timetable.”

“I know that,”

“I’m not letting your anxiety issues fuck up the plan again,” he says tersely. “Now I agreed that the eighteen months to get out here would be worth it for what we’d save in costs, but we’ve got half a year left on this haul, and then it’s the same eighteen months back to Federation territory. And I’m not getting any fucking younger. How many more times do you think I’m even gonna go into season?!” He regrets being sharp as soon as he sees how pinched and sad Steve’s face gets in response.

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, looking down. “I … I know. You’re right.” 

Bucky sighs. If he’s being honest, part of his anger is really with himself. He’s the one who decided to focus on his military career for so many years, after all. He’s the one who wasted his youth taking marching orders on little more than dewy-eyed idealism, buying into all the bullshit, all the Federation’s propaganda of speciestic pride and civic duty, honor and glory. And where had that gotten him? What has it gotten him? Not what he’d thought. Or to be fair, maybe he never even really did think that far. Fervor will do that to a fool. Two decades spent traveling from one edge of the galaxy to the next, racking up rank and reputation with the IDF, and now come to find out it doesn’t even really mean much. Not in the grand scheme of things, anyway.

Having his mate, building a home and a life, starting a family line that he can cultivate and be proud of, a legacy that he can watch prosper into something bigger than himself, something better than what he had, and all while he grows old with the man he loves. That’s what really matters. What good is a life spent seeking prosperity if you have no one to pass it on to? 

These past few years, he and Steve have put all their energies into this venture with the Guild; buying the Scythe and bagging ten-million-credit contracts, embracing the entrepreneurial spirit, entertaining that universal boyhood fantasy of playing explorer and making big things go ‘vroom’ in space. They’d long ago agreed to put off starting a family so that they could have those types of adventures, go out on that limb, live that dream. Always forging ahead with the same, ignorant notion maintained: that they have all the time in the world to settle down.

Seven solars ago it had felt that way. But Bucky’s almost forty now, and finding a young, compatible female to be their carrier isn’t the only concern anymore. As the egg-bearing parent of their breeding pair, Bucky’s got an expiration date that Steve simply doesn’t. And sometimes he gets frustrated because it seems like Steve conveniently forgets that. “Sorry I snapped,” he mumbles anyway, rubbing his face tiredly. “I shouldn’t have.”

“... So, Banner said it’ll definitely be today?” Steve checks, his way of making peace.

“Next thirty-six hours was what he said this morning.”

“But how long do you feel like it’ll be?”

“Less than eight,” Bucky admits, dragging his hands all the way down his face. “Probably tonight, if the way my balls feel is any indication.” Steve chuckles and makes a dirty remark about them not needing to wait for the terran to wake up, to start having fun with each other, but Bucky waves him off, because he really does feel close, and he doesn’t want to waste his surely-dwindling egg supply on a fucking blowjob. 

That’s another big reason why he doesn’t want to scrap the terran girl and start over. He’s in season for the first time in over ten months, and he’ll be ovulating very soon. If he and Steve return the slave, if they don’t grab their window this time, well … Bucky will officially have to wait until he is forty-two solars old and back in the inner rim to even attempt to become a father again (assuming that he could even afford to acquire an inner rim slave in the first place, which is doubtful). Even if it wasn’t, there’s still the matter of time. It just seems silly and wasteful to let this chance pass them by when they already have a highly genetically compatible breeder, bought and paid for, right here to serve as their carrier. 

Steve inhales deeply and sends Bucky a soft look. “Hey,” he says. “I love you.”

Bucky smiles back. “Love you too.” 

They both look down at the slumped form of the female. “At least she’s pretty?” Steve says, and Bucky hums in agreement. He’d been the one to pick her out, while Steve was away dealing with cargo transfer and playing diplomat with the locals. He’d given Steve’s physical preferences more weight than his own, though Bucky thinks their female is attractive, too. There are no obvious morphological differences between their two species that he can see, at least not beyond the superficial.

He lets his gaze drag over her assessingly. She’s naked, save for the temporary shift garment that they give all the slaves so that they don’t have to go around butt ass naked during transport day. It’s sleeveless and covers her from shoulder to shin, but it’s still easy to assess most of her body through the thin, biodegradable fabric. Sometimes there will be minor physical differences in the populations that they trade in, especially out here on the outer rim. But so far Bucky’s seen hundreds of these people, and the only trait of note that he can pick out is the greater variance in coloring. Unlike Steve and Bucky’s people, these terrans range from very pale, to very dark skinned. They have many more shades of hair, and some of them even have red hair! The one Bucky’s picked out has a variant of it, her mid length hair bearing a rich, auburn shade that reminds him of the peeling ironwoods in fall, back home.

“Didn’t think they’d be so small,” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah, me neither. Makes sense though, with the higher gravity and all.” Bucky thinks he can remember their own females being a bit larger than this one, on average. Though it’s been a long time since he’s seen one. “Do you remember your Oma?” he asks Steve.

“Not really. I was three.” 

Bucky hums sadly. He’d been seven. “I think they were bigger.”

“Well, Banner swears she’ll be a great fit.” 

Bucky snorts at the double entendre, and after a moment of being a prude, Steve laughs too. “That’s what the drugs were supposed to be for,” Bucky says, still peering at her as he waits to see if she’ll stir anytime soon. He’s starting to get a little anxious over how long she’s been unconscious. “How long’s it been since she conked out?” Her breathing seems normal …

“Not long. Maybe three, four minutes before you got back with the food?” 

He frowns when he estimates that he’s been back in their quarters for an additional three or four minutes now. He thinks about calling down to ask if everything is going okay with cargo pop. “The fuck dosage did Banner work up?” he grunts. With the genetic profiles so isolated out in these more primitive systems, they’ve had to reformulate the cocktail for virtually every new population they harvest from. But even still, it’s usually just a matter of very minor adjustments for body mass. The female currently drooling onto their couch cushion isn’t that much smaller than those of the last haul, but …

“Did he say how long they gestate for?” Steve wonders.

“Nine months,” Bucky says, and Steve guffaws.

“Jeez. They’re like rabbits!”

Bucky snickers and agrees. “She might go to twelve or thirteen with one of ours.” It isn’t uncommon. Other than immune rejection, the only significant worry with using alien carriers is if the female’s womb can stretch enough to accommodate their young. Even with drugs to facilitate the process, Bucky knows how lucky it is that their kind is able to breed so flexibly. The genetic profiles have to be similar of course, and the process only works with gestational carriers. Something about the cross-species gametes is incompatible. Fertilization never works out. But for carriers, outsourcing works just fine. 

All of a sudden, the girl on the floor stirs a little, which eases Bucky’s concerns about a possible overdose. Steve makes a surprised noise and then looks excitedly at Bucky. “She moved!”

“Yeah.” Bucky relaxes further back on the couch as both he and Steve continue to watch her. She scrunches her face sleepily, still not awake yet. It’s kind of cute. She opens her mouth wide and gulps in air, making a weird noise. Bucky raises an eyebrow and Steve looks alarmed.

“What is that? What’s she doing?” 

“I dunno.” 

She doesn’t wake up after doing the gulping thing. She merely sighs. A moment later she does it once more, and Steve whines worriedly. “We should call Banner.” 

Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes. “She’s breathing fine, babe.” 

“How do you know?” Steve argues. “She’s gasping for air. That can't be ... that can’t be good.”

“She’s not gasping, she’s gulping.” 

“Call Banner.”

Bucky’s already pulling the datapad back over and pointing it at the female to take a short video of the gulping the next time it happens. It’s like a big, long gulp, followed by a harsh, fast sigh. “Take a chill pill, hon,” he drawls, tapping the screen for an analysis of the footage. He reads the information that the AI generates, and reports out loud to his still worried mate: “It’s called yawn. It’s normal. Not a sign of illness or injury.” 

“Are you sure?”

“That’s what it says. Says here that it can indicate fatigue.” He scrolls down farther, reading the information that’s come up on their terran. “‘Yawn’, he murmurs, testing out the word. “She’s doing a yawn. It’s normal for the species.”

“Which is?”

He scrolls back over the analysis, skimming for taxonomy. He’s aware that the planet is called Earth, but he isn’t sure what the terrans themselves are called. (Earthians? Earthers? Earthlings?) “Here.” He says when finds it. “Hu-man.”

“Oh.” They both look down at their slumped female, thinking the same thing at the same time. “Hu-woman?” Steve guesses.

“I don’t think so.”

“Hew-MEN,” Steve pronounces.

“HEW-men,” Bucky corrects, then second guesses himself and tries it out a couple different ways under his breath (“Hew … hoo … hew-men. Hew-min … ) “HEW-men,” he decides. “It’s definitely HEW-men.”

“Hu-man,” Steve says, pronouncing it the way that Bucky’s settled on, and Bucky nods in agreement. “Human.”

“Terran,” Bucky mutters.

In all honesty, these people aren’t too dissimilar from the last population they sourced, except for that these ones really are “terrans” in the true sense of the word, having been completely planet-bound up until their system’s colonization just a few generations prior. Theirs is presently a pre-digital society, due to some sort of energy weapons disaster that took place over a hundred solars ago—Or at least, that’s what Bucky’s cultural liaison had told him when she’d handed over a strange mask for him to wear. They were cumbersome, but purportedly mandatory for survival at the planet's ground level.

(“A disaster of our own making, I’m afraid. Happened back in my great grandparents’ generation. All major cities went black, industries down for decades, soil contaminated four inches deep. It essentially threw us back into an early industrial age—for civilians, leastways. Not like here on base. We’ve made good progress with farmland and infrastructure, but there’s still a long way to go.”)

That’d been yesterday, Bucky and his crew making all of the requisite diplomatic stops at the first and then second docking stations. Their guide, herself an expat of the planet, had explained the history and conditions on the ground: how over ninety percent of humans now live primitively, and never travel off-world in their lifetime.

Maybe that’s why their new female threw such a tantrum, Bucky thinks. In his experience, fear is the biggest driver of anger. Fear of the unknown. The language download should help greatly with that. Or at least he dearly hopes so. The girl had been so destructive before, and with a ship that always seems to be managing to fall apart in seven different ways, Bucky doesn’t take kindly to having any of his personal shit unnecessarily broken. He regards her where she’s sitting slumped on the floor at Steve’s feet, body leaning against the couch and her head lolled on the cushion next to Steve’s knee. “I’m gonna call the doc,” Bucky decides. “Just to be safe.” If nothing else, he needs to know if this is happening to the entirety of cargo pop.

Steve moves his knee to gently nudge her. Her face twitches again, but other than that she doesn’t stir. “Yeah,” he agrees.

Bucky uses the datapad to call his chief medical officer. Once he has Banner on holoprojection, he indicates their human and explains her reaction to the drugs. “She's been out for almost ten minutes. But like I said, she’s twitching now, so …”

Through the display, Banner scratches his head. “Yeah. We were seeing the same thing down here. I thought maybe the gauge was off and we’d just over-gassed them. But if it’s happening via injection too, then it’s an overall dosage miscalculation. I’ll fiddle with it.” He apologizes sheepishly and reassures them that their newly-acquired female should be back to normal soon. 

Steve asks if they’ll be able to breed her that day. “Should we wait?” he worries, nudging her lolling head with his knee again. “I mean … are the drugs still doing what they’re supposed to?”

“Once she regains consciousness the prep should still have taken effect,” Banner advises. “Just make sure she’s physically receptive. It’ll be easy to tell. Their females have similar arousal responses as ours do … Erm, did. It’s mostly the males that differ.”

“Differ how?” Bucky asks, then sits there with increasingly rising eyebrows as Banner tells him that human males have no designations: no eggs, no barbs, not even knots.

“Wait, what?” Steve squints. “But if they don’t have designations … I mean … Then what even are they?”

“Human males are sperm-bearing only. They fertilize the eggs.”

“But you just said they don’t have eggs,” Bucky re-checks, confused when Banner affirms it. “So they’re all alpha?”

“Well they don’t call themselves that, but essentially, yes.” Banner nods. “Sperm-bearing.”

“Then how the fuck do they reproduce without omegas?” Bucky wants to know.

“They have two party reproduction. The females are egg-bearing, and they carry the pregnancy. They do both.” 

On the other couch, Steve makes a fascinated sound. “Weird!” He and Bucky spend another moment wrapping their heads around that notion. “But … it won’t hurt her, right?” Steve checks again.  Bucky rolls his eyes but says nothing. 

“No. Everything’s formulated to enhance the arousal response— minimize strain, optimize the womb for implantation, and loosen the pelvic structure,” Banner promises. “Their females really are very well suited to it. I was just telling Barnes the other day. It’s the highest interspecies compatibility I’ve seen in quite some time.” 

“Hence why we just bought five thousand units,” Bucky says pointedly, looking at Steve. “You see? She’ll be fine.”

Outside of the holofield on Banner’s end, someone in the room calls out. Banner speaks with the person off screen, then announces to Steve and Bucky that he has to go. “Call me if you have any problems,” he says distractedly, then the holo cuts out.

That’s when the girl begins to blink her eyes open. Bucky can’t help but tense up a little bit, anticipating another tantrum like before. But he relaxes as a minute passes, and then two, and she becomes fully awake and doesn’t start yelling. She lifts her head, sits up straight, and does another one of the gulps—the “yawns,” this one much more intense than before. She looks around the room and pouts once she sees Steve and Bucky sitting there watching her attentively, but at least she remains calm.

Bucky’s shoulders untense. Thank the Makers. “Welcome back,” he says, making sure to speak slowly and clearly. “The medicine we gave you made you fall asleep for a few minutes. But the doctor says you’ll be fine.”

Her eyes go wide as she realizes that she can understand what he’s saying. Bucky smirks and waits to let her process that, before he figures that he should also let her know, “You learned it while you were sleeping. It’s called Federalese.” Again, she frowns, clearly not understanding how that’s possible. She even looks a little disturbed. Given what he knows about her primitive culture, Bucky isn’t entirely sure that terms like “download” or “nano-neural” will help explain it any better. So instead he tells her, “It might feel difficult or awkward for a day or so, but the more you hear it and use it, the easier it’ll come.”

“H-how?” she says, and Bucky thinks: Aw, her first word. (Hey, at least it’s not a swearword. Small blessings.) “How … how, is, this … poss-ible?” she stammers.

“We have a lot of technology that you won’t ever have seen before,” Bucky explains. “But Steve and I will teach you.” The female whips her head to look at Steve, realizes how close she is to him, and scoots her butt away on the floor by a few inches. It’s cute.

Steve offers her a smile and a little wave. “Hey. I’m Steve.” (They’ve already done introductions, but she’d been deep in histrionics at the time, so. Probably worth repeating.)

“And I’m Bucky. We met at the Mile High. You remember that?” Bucky isn’t entirely sure that she will. He’d been present when they woke her up, but she’d been awfully disoriented at the time—not atypical when being decanted after any length of time spent in suspended animation. Frankly, if Bucky had been sourcing from anywhere other than the Mile High, he would’ve found their use of stasis pods to be suspect, and would have worried about legitimacy of sale. It’s prohibitively expensive to keep slaves in suspension, the only real reason to do so typically being illegal poaching; keep the product quiet until a sale’s been made and the buyer’s well off world. But the Mile High Club is nothing if not a reputable dealer, well known for their quality product and pristine business practices. The club’s managing Collector, a Mr. Taneleer Tivan, had happily given a VIP tour of the pods, showcasing both the quality of his stock and the high standards of the operation itself. He’d been quick to supply all appropriate documents as well, handing over proof of sale, consent to enthrallment, and the pertinent federal and local registration codes as soon as they were requested.

When the female sitting in front of them gives no indication that she remembers their initial meeting, Bucky changes tack. “The freighter that came in yesterday? That was us.” He pats the seat of the couch he's sitting on and gestures around the room. “This is her. The Andromeda Scythe.” 

The girl narrows her eyes at the mention of the Scythe. Bucky’s aware that most terrans have no love lost for off-worlders. Life on planets like this one isn't very nice to begin with, and then on top of that, relations with colonial authorities can tend to be rather … tense. Understandable, given that in the outer rim especially there are typically only a few outposts per planet, stations which serve as the only real point of contact between the natives and the rest of the galaxy. It’s very possible that this female only sees two or three transports passing through a year—and that’s assuming that she even lives within view of an orbital docking path. Planetary outposts like those on Earth are managed by either skeleton crews of low-level Federation grunts who fucked up badly enough to be demoted all the way to the outer fucking rim, or by ex-mercs who have nothing better to do than babysit a bunch of primitives on their ruined planets, overseeing order on the ground and liaising with whatever freighters pass through for trade. There are usually only between six and a dozen docking stations per outer rim planet. Earth has only two, which says a lot about how badly its natives fucked it up a hundred solars ago. 

“We’re not with the military,” Bucky tells her, figuring that this might ease her opinion of him (and of Steve, though Steve’s obnoxiously gifted at getting new people to like him). Bucky shakes his head back and forth pointedly. “Steve and me? We’re not IDF.”

The female does at least seem to consider this as a positive thing, as her scowl doesn’t get any worse. “Not … Federation?” she asks, still learning how to move her tongue around the unfamiliar words.

“That’s right. Not Federation.” He thumbs over at Steve, then at himself. “We’re completely independent, free merchants with the guild. You know: the FTG?” (No need to tell her about their respective six and seventeen year careers with the IDF.) He points over at the garish sticker that Steve had happily slapped on the domicile’s wall, right after they’d first bought the Scythe, its three big letters declaring them independent of the Federation’s commerce authority. “You understand?” he says, when she doesn’t respond. “We’re tra-ders. Mer-chants.” 

She presses her lips together and gives a curt little nod. “Yes. I understand.” 

“Okay. Good.” From the opposing couch, Steve shoots Bucky a ‘be nice’ look. Bucky shoots him back a ‘what? I am being nice’ look.

Meanwhile, the female has begun looking around the domicile more completely, turning her head this way and that, ostensibly curious, though she curls her lip in a way that Bucky reads as disdain. Eventually, after a long moment of both Bucky and Steve anxiously waiting for her to say something, she sniffs and asks, “We’re on your spaceship?” 

Bucky tries hard not to smirk or laugh at her. 'Spaceship'. Terrans’ language for things they don’t understand can tend to be amusing, is all. “Yes," he says. “Our ship. The Andromeda Scythe.”

She spends another moment thinking. “And … where-are-we going?” she asks, stringing her words together a little faster now, Bucky’s pleased to note.

“On to the next system,” he tells her. “Right now we’re still docked in the lower troposphere.” 

“On Earth?” She snaps to attention. “You mean we haven’t left yet?” 

The way her face is brightening isn’t a good sign, so Bucky points at her sternly, ready to put a stop to any idea she might have about making some sort of ridiculous escape attempt. “Hey,” he warns, “I paid good money for you, and I’ve got all the documents that say I did. You’re chipped, you’re here, and that’s that.” He softens some at her pout, but still insists, “No more tantrums like before, acting like we just scooped you up outta the forest while you were frolicking and picking berries, or whatever it is you terrans do.”

“Terrans ...” she repeats, frowning as she processes the word. She returns to glaring at Bucky, reminding him that she’ll have downloaded close to the full catalog of their language by now—including the less than flattering meanings that some words can hold. “That’s a slur,” she says.

Bucky scowls. “It’s not a slur. It’s a—” he hesitates when he sees Steve giving him another look. “Okay, fine,” he concedes. “It can be a pejorative I guess. It can be. Doesn’t mean that it always is. And I didn’t mean it that way.”—Except for that he kind of did, the main implication of “terran” being that a person is somehow uncivilized, unlearned, or backwards. Primitive at best, simpleminded at worst. (Bucky resolves to try and stop using it from now on.) He grunts and pushes up from the couch. “Well, I’m hungry. You hungry?” He goes into the domicile’s kitchen to heat up the food he’d grabbed in the canteen. He’s still half hard (like he has been all day), and his nuts feel like they’ve gone three rounds in a boxing match at this point. The fact that he’s not currently balls-deep in something hot, wet and tight is making him grumpy. He returns with the food and hands the female a container, and Steve another, returning to the opposing couch to open the third one for himself. 

The female stays seated on the floor, using the coffee table as a dining surface. She opens the lid of her container and peers at the food inside dubiously, giving it a thorough sniff test and poking at it a few times with the utensil. Eventually she deigns to take a cautious bite, and whatever she makes of it, it must exceed her expectations. Either that, or she’s just very hungry, because she digs right in after that first taste. Bucky and Steve share a look that’s equal parts relief and amusement, and the three of them eat in what Bucky chooses to interpret as companionable silence.

He does notice the female glancing curiously around the room a couple of times (and at him and Steve, when she thinks they aren’t looking). She’s much more relaxed than she was before she passed out, and Bucky's got to imagine that Banner’s drug cocktail has more than a little to do with that. The prep is meant to help things along in that way, after all, relaxing and arousing the female’s body so that it can accommodate the sexual process, be successfully impregnated. No longer is their newly-acquired breeder raging around the domicile like a lunatic. She’s calm, and exhibiting a few signs of arousal that Bucky recognizes from having seen the drugs at work before. Her skin is flushed all along the base of her neck and her collarbones. Her nipples poke against the cheap material of her garment, pebbled into little peaks, and she seems to be squirming uncomfortably from time to time. In a very distinct manner. 

Good, Bucky thinks. They need to get this show on the road.

Bucky throws the trash from their meal away and leaves to check in with the ship’s crew before turning in for the evening. He heads down to the cargo bay to make sure the new stock is settling in without issue. Usually, the Scythe carries an even split of male and female down in the bay, as laborers are almost as marketable as carriers, but this haul is heavy on females due to the high breeding compatibility of their two species. Morita and Jones still have a ton of them sequestered over to one side for parasite decon, but other than that, everything looks to be in good shape. 

Next, he heads to the med bay for a brief discussion with Banner on all the procedures they’ll need to do over the course of the following months, in order to optimize this new haul’s market value. Chipping and language downloads are priority one, of course, followed by grooming, and then dental. Bruce breaks the bad news that Bucky already knew was coming, and tells him that precisely eighty-one percent of the slaves have prominent tattoos that’ll need removing. Apparently it’s a big part of the humans’ culture, which is why such an unusually large proportion of the females are marked. Bucky gripes over all the synth tissue they’re going to have to burn through (that shit’s expensive), but he knows it’s necessary to get the slaves up to industry standard. They only have one regeneration cradle on-board, so they’ll need to get started right away. If they’re lucky, they’ll have it all done by the time they’re back in the Andromeda system. 

“Just do the prettiest ones first, I guess,” he tells Bruce. That way if they run out of synth tissue, they’ll at least have optimized the best units for sale. True to form, Bruce wants to know “what metric” he’s supposed to use to determine which of the females are prettiest. Bucky rolls his eyes and tells him that Monty and Jones know the metric. “Gods, so much money,” he laments about the tattoos.

Bruce cheers him up by promising that the superior reproductive compatibility will more than make up for it, with how much they’ll be able to charge per unit. And that, at least, is a bright note that helps improve Bucky’s mood. As is the fact that, once he arrives back at his and Steve’s quarters, it’s immediately apparent that Steve is making progress with their female.

He’s coaxed her to come up and sit beside him on the couch, instead of on the floor. “Buck,” he says when Bucky walks back in. Bucky stops short at the sight of them sitting so close to one another. Steve has even put his hand on her shoulder gently. “This is Raelynn,” he says. Bucky must make a face without realizing it, because Steve gives him a warning look that clearly communicates: Do not fuck up all my hard work, Pal, and he says, “People close to her call her Rae.” He looks down at her and gives her a small smile (Which she low key even returns! What the fuck? Bucky will never understand how Steve does it.) “She says we can call her that, right Honey?”

Raelynn/Rae nods a little, her eyes flicking from Steve, over to Bucky, and back again. “Yes,” she says quietly. “Rae is fine.” 

Bucky goes over to the couch and sits on her other side, putting her firmly between himself and Steve. Testing the waters, so to speak. “Well then, I guess it’s nice to officially meet you, Rae.” She doesn’t really seem to want to make eye contact with him just yet, but she at least shoots him a small nod, along with a glance that notably doesn’t involve any suspicious or angrily-narrowed eyes. Bucky counts it as another win. He clears his throat as he sits there and tries to think of a delicate way to ask if his husband has gotten around to telling her what she’s there for yet. “Um, so … did you two talk much while I was gone?” He looks to Steve from over the top of her head to check.

Steve gives the world’s barest perceptible gesture, more a clenching of jaw than a true nod. That confirms what Bucky suspected, since the girl’s speech is more steady and confident than even since he left to go check the ship for the night. “Okay,” he says, licking his lips, excited and nervous. He can’t comprehend how she’s still being friendly if the talk about her being their carrier has already happened, but Steve does have a knack with people that Bucky’s always lacked. Bucky decides to trust that. “So, um … do you have any questions for us?” he asks, figuring that to be a safe way to ease into wherever the discussion left off in his absence.

She bites her lip for a moment, then asks, “Where are we going? After here?”

He inhales deeply, glad that the first question isn’t about the sex that's in their immediate future—not that he isn’t willing to talk about it, but he’s pretty sure that Steve’s the one who should broach that topic, if it hasn’t been broached already. Bucky nods and tells her, “Departure’s tomorrow at 0800. We have a few more stops, in nearby systems, then we refuel and start back home.”

“Home,” she echoes. “What’s that?”

Bucky opens his mouth, about to give a definition of the actual word “home," but Steve catches her meaning better than he does and says, “We’re from the inner rim, Honey. A place called Kho.”

“That’s your planet?” she asks. 

“Mmhm. It’s nice. Developed, but still with lots of green. It’s the capital of our system: the Andromeda system.”

“One of the founding twenty-seven,” Bucky thinks to add, but then tenses at the abrupt change in Rae’s demeanor. 

She stiffens and looks up at Steve in something like betrayal. “I thought you said you weren’t Federation?” 

“We’re not.” 

“But he just said—”

Bucky cuts her off by placing a hand on her wrist, which gets her attention. “Hey, no. I meant we’re not Federation officials. Not Intergalactic Defense Forces, not Commerce Corps. We’re free agents with the guild, sure, but we’re still citizens." 

Her mouth works as she fumbles for a rebuttal. “But you said … I mean, I thought … the IDF is—”

“IDF’s the military,” Bucky stresses. “We’re not military. We are Federation citizens, but Sweetie: most of the chartered universe is. Virtually anyone who isn’t a terran—” He cuts himself off right after the word escapes. “Erm, sorry. That is to say, anyone who isn’t in the outer rim systems is a citizen.”

“Yeah,” Steve encourages, as Rae visibly relaxes. “It’s a huge umbrella, Honey. Quadrillions of people. Being a citizen’s not a bad thing.” 

“Oh. I guess … I guess I don’t know these things,” she admits, with a hint of bashfulness to her if Bucky isn’t mistaken. Though that could just be more of her arousal response, the same flush and squirming evoked by the drugs.

Bucky gives her wrist a comforting squeeze. “Hey. That’s okay, Hon. Really. Just wait till you see it. There’s all sorts of technology and conveniences. I think you’ll be amazed. We have so many comforts and entertainment. Things you’ve never even dreamed of.” When she doesn’t look sure about it, he says, “I’ll show you some videos tomorrow. You’ll see. It’s much nicer than what you’re used to here. You’ll have a much better life there.” 

As per freakin’ usual, out of the two of them, Steve is the better conversationalist. 

He’s somehow able to salvage the conversation from Bucky’s—unintended but disastrous—insults to Rae’s home planet, and when the girl starts to notice her own increasingly aroused physical state, he pulls her into his arms and gives her a hug, reminding her that she’s just fine, that this is just the expected effects of the medicine, like they talked about. Just something that’ll help her feel good the whole way through.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whines when it intensifies, burrowing against the front of Steve’s sweater in embarrassment as the effects of the prep ramp up. “Nnnh. I feel … mmnn.”

Bucky and Steve share another look from over the top of her head. Their girl may be new to spoken Federalese, but the universal language of hot, bothered, and squirming female communicates loud and clear everything that she isn’t saying. “That’s your body getting ready,” Bucky reminds her gently, daring to place a hand on her back. “Remember how we talked about the way it would make you feel?” 

“Mmh … hm.” 

It comes out as more of a whimper than the “mm-hm” she probably intended, but Bucky gets the gist. She doesn’t shirk him off when he slides his hand up her back to her shoulder, nor when he begins a comforting little rubbing motion there, so he scoots in closer and leans against her from behind, joining in the hug that Steve’s already giving her. She shudders in their combined hold, but it’s quite obviously in enjoyment rather than displeasure. Bucky noses into her strange, ironwood-colored hair, inhaling at her pulse point and wondering if the lightly floral scent is innate to her species, or just something she’s rubbed into her skin. “Rae?” he prods gently. "Do you want to talk a little more about what’s going to happen?” 

By now she knows that she’s there to be their carrier. They’ve explained that much, but none of the biology has been mentioned. None of the specific points of their … anatomy. Bucky knows she’s still assuming it’s her eggs they’ll be fertilizing. “You can ask questions,” he reminds her, grazing the shell of her ear with his lips and relishing the shiver he feels travel through her slight frame. “Anything you want,” he whispers, mainly just to get another shiver out of her when his hot breath hits her ear.

“We want you to feel comfortable,” Steve coaxes.

“And not scared,” Bucky agrees. He chances a kiss to her neck, and she makes a soft, enjoyable noise. “Nothin’ to be scared of at all. Cause we’re gonna take such good care of you, Sweetheart.”

She sighs, having gone much more lax against Steve’s front in the past few minutes. Steve signals to Bucky that they should cool it for a sec, in the goal of getting a real answer out of her. Bucky grunts but agrees, sneaking a hand to the front of his pants to rearrange himself. It’s been unpleasant all day, but now he’s actually hard. He gives himself a rough squeeze through the fabric, telling his poor, suffering balls to hold in there. Steve, meanwhile, has encouraged Rae to sit back a little. She’s still practically in his lap, and soft as a noodle, but he manages to get a tiny bit of eye contact out of her. “Talk?” he checks, nodding in encouragement. 

She makes a shy noise of assent, followed by a nod and an “okay” that comes out muffled, because she’s already burrowed her face back into the knit of Steve's sweater. From over her head, Steve and Bucky share a fond look, and together they pet her back and begin to explain the differences in their species’ breeding habits. 

It takes a little while. She stops them several times, not upset about anything, but certainly confused, needing to ask clarifying questions. She seems most flabbergasted by the notion of egg-bearing omega men, but not at all by the fact that two men would be husbands—Which really perplexes Bucky, because why the hell would two men marry if they couldn’t make babies together? 

She expresses amazement at the concept of a third carrier sex, which is one of the confusing bits that she winds up needing to ask several questions about. Bucky bungles it on his first try, but then watches his mate take over, and falls even deeper in love as Steve seems to intuitively know exactly what to say. He explains it to her in terms that she can understand, which is that sperm and egg come from the two male parents—the alpha father and omega mother—whilst the female Oma, who lacks gametes, carries the growing baby inside of her womb. 

“Huh,” is all Rae says, with an adorably astounded little expression. “That's ... huh.”

She asks why they don't just breed with their own kind, and that prompts Bucky's explanation of what happened on their homeworld that so necessitated this cross-species sourcing for carriers in the first place. He leaves a lot out, purposefully softening the story of the plague that ripped every man, woman, and child of Kho’s oma parent away, over thirty solars ago (“Thirty-three solars, this next rotation. Gods, I can hardly believe it’s been that long”), and emphasizing how there have been countless families formed with compatible species in the generation since, just as happy and healthy as can be.

She seems very reassured when they tell her about how well her body will be suited to safely carrying a healthy Khomeini pregnancy and bearing their young, and she really brightens up once she understands that she’s to remain with them to be their female mate and act as de-facto oma for their children: the primary caregiver.

Bucky holds his tongue, but he privately thinks that it’s utterly rotten that she’d thought they were actually going to use her for her womb and then not let her raise the baby after that (wtf?!). Apparently, it’s a practice that the human terrans have, and Bucky thinks—again, privately and with more than a little disdain—that Earth culture really is backwards and brutal. No wonder their little savage had been so tempestuous in the beginning! She’d been expecting to be used and discarded!

He and Steve both happily tell her how it will be quite the opposite, explaining how she’ll live in their domicile on Kho with them, which has a lovely garden and courtyard, and rooms that she can decorate for their young. When they inform her that theirs is a healthy ecosystem without the same problems as her planet, and that she won’t have to wear a rubber mask when she goes outside, she gets even more enthused and wants to know all about their planet and its history. They promise to show her as many videos as she wants tomorrow, but first thing’s first: they need to breed her tonight.

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Kinktober '24 entry for: Different Species | Oviposition | double penetration in one hole

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[voiceoffenrisulfr]

We Are More Than the Choices We Made - Chapter Three With Great Power...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> The team begins to trust Natasha, and she begins to trust Clint.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4972

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) Mentions of child abuse, historical forced hysterectomy, implied sexual assault, Red Room typical violence mentioned. Violence towards another as a means of manipulation mentioned. Death of a parent mentioned. Alcohol use and abuse. Death of an unknown minor mentioned.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the warnings, and proceed with caution. Check it out below, or on AO3 here!

<- Chapter Two

The snazzy Black Widow divider comes from @/firefly-graphics and I love it <3 The Multitudes Universe one is our own!

- ‘Car Accident’, ‘Abusive Parent’ – @anyfandomdarkbingo; - ‘Trickshot and/or the Swordsman’ – Clint Barton Celebration Bingo; - ‘Painful Family History’ – @fandom-free-bingo (Tolkien Edition); - ‘Siblings’ – Gen Prompt Bingo.

Eventually, they began to trust me.

I was given mission briefs, with the strict instructions that we used non-lethal mechanisms where possible – taking a life is not something to be taken lightly, you should know that here.

They always paired me with the archer.

The first few times we were on surveillance detail, we barely spoke. I was used to waiting, motionless and out of sight, and it seemed he had similar training, his bow always within arm’s reach in case it was needed. His sharp eyes missed nothing, darting between every hint of movement. I spent almost as much time watching him as I did watching the building we were supposed to be focused on, occasionally considering the small devices in his ears.

After a few weeks, I asked.

“Why do you wear those things?” I asked quietly, inclining my head pointedly towards his hearing aids. He startled a little, glancing at me with a small frown before turning his attention back to the skyrise opposite.

“They help me hear.”

“But you hate them.”

His surprise was tangible this time, his head turning fully toward me. “What?”

“I’ve seen you,” I replied quietly. “Usually at the table. You turn them off sometimes. You look… Uncomfortable.”

“You’ve noticed that?” he asked after a moment, his voice unusually subdued. When I simply nodded, he shrugged a shoulder. “They can be… Overwhelming, sometimes. Everything’s just so loud – so much…”

With a thoughtful hum, I glanced at our target, still sat motionless in his office, a porno playing in clear view on the screen in front of him. “… So… Why?”

He considered my question for a heartbeat. “Easier that way, I suppose. I can lipread, but… That comes with its own challenges and headaches – literally. And the team doesn’t know sign. And this way… Well, it can’t be used against me.”

“In a fight?”

“Amongst other things,” he agreed, shrugging.

“Teach me sign,” I declared after a moment, turning to face him more fully and pushing myself up to sit on the low wall around the edge of the rooftop. My cast was long gone, and I certainly had dexterity enough to make a few hand shapes; it seemed only courteous to offer. He blinked in surprise, eyes flicking towards the man opposite, and I snorted. “He’s not going anywhere. We both know this is an easy job – they’re just making sure I don’t run away the second they let me out of my cage.”

One eyebrow raised, and he pushed himself up beside me. “You think this is a cage?” he asked, hands moving slowly as he spoke, the corners of my mouth turning down in concentration as I focused.

Cage – four fingers pointed up, spread. Four fingers horizontally in front, spread.

“A different kind of ‘cage’,” I replied clumsily, earning a small smile for my efforts, “But a ‘cage’ nonetheless.”

“Why would you think that?”

Think – index finger to temple.

“What would happen? If I walked away right now, and didn’t come back?” I asked quietly, and he paused thoughtfully.

“I’d follow you.”

Follow – both hands held in a thumbs-up, non-dominant hand motionless, the other making a moderately-sized circle a few inches to the side.

“Why?”

“Because I care about you.”

Care – hand held near chin, fingers bent, then clenched into a fist.

“But why?” I repeated, frustration and desperation eking into my voice, an almost frantic need to understand coming over me. “I don’t get why. I don’t know how you can have the capacity – the… Energy. Why spend all that time ‘caring’ about someone, when it’s only going to end in pain?”

He blinked owlishly, stunned into silence. “… What?” His hands were still now, shock making him briefly forget about his lessons. I shrugged, the fire in my chest dying a little as he looked at me with pity. “Nat…”

Nat – Fingers moving forward, as if like a spider. Me.

“Everyone dies in the end,” I replied stubbornly, arms folding across my chest. “That’s just the way of it. It’s better not to let yourself get attached.” He opened his mouth to reply, but I interrupted by sliding from the wall, turning stubbornly back toward our target. “Let’s just get on with the mission. We shouldn’t be letting ourselves get distracted.”

The next night, he let me take a bike from the garage under the compound. It was sleek and black, and I felt the opportunity in the power beneath me. I had the ability, right here in my hands, to go wherever I wanted. It was almost certainly tracked, of course, but that wouldn’t matter. By the time they caught up to me, I’d be long gone, the bike abandoned in a ditch somewhere and traded out for something anonymous.

I could leave, and Clint had handed me the keys.

But despite the thoughts of freedom, I found myself pulling into the parking lot inside the multi-story, snaking my way up ramps to get as close to the roof as I could before pulling into a vacant spot. I cursed myself as I trudged along the perimeter of the lot, instinctively sticking to shadows and recesses.

I could have gone, but instead I’m here, acting like their fucking pet and doing all the busy work that nobody else can be bothered to-

I slammed the heavy roof-access door open with my shoulder, still grumbling internally and chastising myself – but all thoughts were banished from my mind at the sight of Clint perched uncertainly on a blanket, tentatively fingering a brown paper bag that had been placed with nervous precision before him.

“Hi. What- what’s happening?”

I cursed the stammer in my voice, thrown off by the situation before me. He shrugged a shoulder, the blush spreading across his cheeks visible even from my position unmoved in the doorway, even in the low glow of perpetual light pollution.

“I figured you deserved something nice.”

“Is this a sticker on my chart?” I snorted, one eyebrow raised incredulously. “My reward, for not running away?”

“Only in the sense that you wouldn’t have gotten it if you weren’t here, purely for the reason that you weren’t here, not because of any notion of punishment,” he replied steadily. “You gonna sit down and eat something, or keep pouting about it?”

I blinked in surprise, his taunting response throwing me off step, and moved closer to settle myself on the blanket with a self-conscious tug on my sleeves.

“Have you ever had a real American take-out burger?” he mused, almost to himself, as he unpacked the bag, spreading his bounty across the space between them. One shoulder raised in a half-hearted shrug, and I snagged a fry to chew on as I considered my answer.

“I think so. I was stationed here once. Pretty sure the school I attended had some at one point – the beginning of summer, or something?” My brow furrowed as I fought to remember those early years, the life of lies we crafted ourselves over three years before it was taken away from me in the dead of night.

“You were here? New York?” he prompted with surprise, pushing a burger box toward me.

Shaking my head, I took it unthinkingly, carefully removing the upper bun to peel pickle from cheese and drop them at the edge of my box. “Ohio. It was… Interesting. We-”

“I’m sure this is a fascinating story,” he interjected, one eyebrow arched, “but far more important is that.” His eyes flicked to the discarded, hellish garnish, and I simply raised an eyebrow right back.

“You like pickles?”

“You don’t?” he asked, just as much horrified wonder in his tone as had been in mine.

“God, no. They’re disgusting!”

With a shrug and a smirk, he reached over, snagging the offending scraps between a pinched thumb and forefinger. “I’m not complaining. More for me.” He dropped the slices into his open mouth, and I gagged theatrically, imagining the soggy, vinegar-infused lumps sitting on my own tongue.

“You’re revolting.”

“I’m saving you. Again,” he added, smirking, and I arched an eyebrow as I bit into my burger.

“What makes you think I needed saving?” I quipped back – but I couldn’t bite back the small smile he elicited, which drew a broad grin of his own.

“I dunno – those pickles can be awful nefarious,” he deadpanned. Despite myself, I chuckled, shaking my head.

“You’re an idiot.”

He half-bowed with a flourish, leaning back on one hand and sipping on his drink slowly. “I do try,” he replied easily as he released the straw, a bead of milkshake clinging to the centre of his lower lip.

The conversation remained light as we ate – he asked more about Ohio and that part of my childhood, but we both steered clear of any darker details. He told me about his time in the circus, how he’d learnt his bow skills from a carnie and spent hours in the wires, watching everything from the darkness.

“I never felt at home on the ground,” he offered, shrugging, as he pushed all of our garbage back into the brown bag, and I watched from where I’d reclined onto my elbows, bloated and overfed. “I guess I have some theories as to why that is, but I’ll save those for another time. They’re not quite as fun.”

We stood simultaneously, and I bent to fold the blanket, considering him as I straightened. “… You said you’ve been deaf since you were a kid, right?” I prompted quietly. His eyes cut to me as he nodded – wary, for the first time that evening.

“I did,” he acknowledged slowly, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

“How did it happen? Not that you have to tell me,” I added quickly when he stiffened. With a soft sigh, he pushed the trash into his holdall, moving to the edge of the roof to gaze out. Assuming he’d opted not to share his story, I went to stand beside him, my own eyes settling on the building we were here to watch, our target no more mobile than he had been every other evening.

“My dad wasn’t a good man,” he began slowly, and I turned to him in surprise, hardly daring to breathe, but he didn’t so much as glance my way as he spoke. “He drank – a lot. My mom took the bulk of it, but… My brother and I weren’t spared his fists.”

“You have a brother?” I repeated, unable to bite back the question, and a sad smile flickered across his features.

“I used to.”

I nodded once at that, my fingers extending in sympathy to brush against his forearm. “I… I have a sister. Had a sister,” I amended, my jaw clenching. “She died.”

“Barney,” he breathed, and I eyed the water gathering along his lash line in shock. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen someone cry.

Widows don’t cry.

Those girls never did last long.

My sister used to cry over birds with broken wings and dead bumblebees.

My fingers wrapped around his forearm gently, silently prompting him to continue when he was ready, and he let out a shaky exhale.

“My dad was not a good man,” he repeated, his jaw hard as he looked out across the city with sightless eyes. “He had a problem with the drink. It didn’t take much for him to put his hands on us when he was like that. All it took was one bad punch…” He smiled ruefully and shrugged, glancing at me. “And here we are.”

“Your father did this to you?” I repeated incredulously, horrified.

He was supposed to protect you.

Family is supposed to look after one another.

I’d never had a family, not really – but I’d pretended for a while. I’d seen a couple of Hallmark movies, with the stereotypes of protective dads and overbearing moms, gross big brothers and annoying little sisters; they painted a picture of what perfect Americana was supposed to be like. Dysfunctional, in its own way – but always, somehow, perfect.

I knew there was bad in the world. Of course I did – probably better than most. But to find it just as pervasive in a family unit as in the Red Room took my breath away.

Clint shrugged and nodded, looking away once more. “That’s why I got out of there as soon as I could,” he replied steadily. “I’d been in the circus for two years by the time I heard about their accident.”

“Accident?” I prompted softly. He snorted, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Well, that’s what they call it,” he scoffed, shaking his head, irritation lacing his tone. “An accident. And it was, I suppose. He probably never intended to crash, after all. But him being drunk – that was a choice that he made. Just as my mother chose to get in the car with him.” Something akin to anger flashed across his features, brief but blazing. “I never did understand why she didn’t leave. After what he did to me… What he did to Barney…” He sniffed, scrubbing his free hand roughly over his face. “She didn’t leave when we were little; I can understand that. A woman alone, with two young boys… She did what she thought was best for us. I have to believe that she never thought he could… That she never would have stay if sh-she…”

His voice cracked and faltered as a tear rolled down his cheek, and my fingers tightened on his forearm in alarm. When he turned to me, silent and imploring, I didn’t hesitate. My arms found their way around him, pulling him tight against me as he wept against my collarbone, his fingers curling needily against my back.

I held him like that until the sobs subsided, my suit slowly beginning to bead with his tears, the impermeable material causing the droplets to roll off and drip to the floor.

“Yelena.”

He looked up, seemingly just as shocked as I was by my having spoken. I paused, swallowing dryly, and chewed on my bottom lip before continuing. “She was my sister. Well – not really, I suppose. No more than my mom was my mom, or my dad was my dad. None of them were actually related to me, I don’t think. But the mission called for  a family, so that’s what we were. A perfect, all-American family. Hard-working dad, stay-at-home mom, two-point-five kids in  white picket fence suburbia.”

“We played our parts well. Well-behaved little girls. A credit to our parents. Sociable, but never too outgoing. Polite, but not overly formal. Friendly – but not too friendly. It wouldn’t do to have people asking questions. I was nearly a real child for a while there,” I added, smiling softly as I remembered. “We put on a good façade. There were even family photos. We shot them all in one day – Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, summer vacation… All different backdrops. And I knew all the presents under the tree were just empty boxes, but I didn’t care. I wanted to open every single one, so that just for a second it would feel real. Yelena didn’t understand, of course – she didn’t know anything different. She didn’t know why I cried myself to sleep that night – she could only talk about how pretty we all looked, playing dress-up, and asked if we could do it again tomorrow.”

“I was invited to parties, play dates. My mom usually had an excuse ready as to why I couldn’t go – I had to go to the dentist, or the doctor, or there was family visiting from out of town. She couldn’t give an excuse every time, of course – best not to arouse suspicion, right? But our lack of availability kept the invites low. She was good with giving a realistic excuse. I knew she didn’t trust me alone with others. She was scared that I – or more likely, my sister – would say something that she shouldn’t, and that we’d give away the big secret. And she knew, of course, that attending a playdate brings the expectation of being invited in return – and that had to be avoided at all costs. How could she explain to the confused mothers, whose daughters had come home telling them about ‘Natalie’s’ dad, the drunk man speaking Russian?” I smiled slightly, tightly. “Yes, my dad drank too. Not like yours – never like yours. Those years were perhaps the most pain-free of my life. It wouldn’t do to have a concerned neighbour or nosy teacher raising their suspicions, after all. The last thing we needed was anyone prying into our lives.”

“But my sister…” I smiled a little more sincerely, both saddened and delighted by thoughts of my sibling. “We may not have been blood, but I loved her more than anything. We lived together for three years, until she was six. I tried to ask here sometimes, when we were alone, if she ever thought about her family. Her real family, you know? But she was so little… She didn’t even seem to remember them after a little while. Didn’t seem to remember that it hadn’t always been this way. But I hoped, by asking, that I could their memories alive. So that if she ever did manage to escape, she might be able to find them. But she was so young… She forgot so quickly.”

“She was six when we left America. She didn’t understand what was happening – why we were fleeing our home in the dead of night, racing away surrounded by gunfire. She didn’t know any better than the false life we had built. For us it had been a mission, but for her, it was just the way things were… But then they took us back.”

I swallowed again, fighting to appear stoic as pangs of grief resonated in my chest. “I tried to fight for her. Tried to stop them taking her away from me. I tried to tell them that she was only six – she was still too young. The idea of them doing the same things to her that they’d done to me at that age…” My muscles tightened instinctively, and I stared sightlessly over his shoulder. “But I couldn’t do anything. Not a damn thing. There were too many of them. They took her away, and all I could do was watch.”

“I saw her intermittently over the next few years,” I continued, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Sometimes just in passing, though they largely tried to keep us apart. Sometimes, however, they used her to make a point. ‘This is what happens if you disobey’. They knew I loved her – knew I would have done anything to make sure she was safe. They made me watch as they did unspeakable things to her to force my compliance. And then… Nothing.”

Clint had watched me in horrified silence, tears streaming once more down his cheeks – this time for my own loss. “Did you ever find out what happened to her?”

I shook my head. “One of the mademoiselles – the teachers there – told me years later that she died on a mission.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

I shrugged, taking a step back and picking absently at the skin around my thumb. “I don’t know. But I have no doubt that she is dead. She was too soft for that world. I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.”

A flicker of revulsion crossed over Clint’s face – at the Red Room? At me? – but it was gone before I could determine any more, leaving only sadness and pity in its wake. “How old was she? The last time you saw her?”

“Graduation. I tried to refuse. They made sure I didn’t,” I finished softly, wincing.

“Graduation?” he prompted softly, brow furrowed. I nodded stiffly, the long-faded scars in my abdomen tingling.

“A requirement, for a Widow,” I explained, jaw set. “Total hysterectomy. Children are a distraction.”

I felt guilty about the sentence as soon as I’d uttered it – he’d mentioned his desire for children a few times, seemingly enamoured with the concept of toddler antics. But he simply winced and nodded, looking away, his gaze finding our mark once more. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it?” he murmured, inclining his head at the man opposite. “Scumbags like this have six kids, while people like you…”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Trust me, I’d not be a better parent than he is,” I assured him. “I wasn’t designed for children.”

Distantly, somewhere inside me, something baulked at the sentence in a fierce rejection of my words. Some part of me vaguely remembered dreams of child-rearing, fantasies in the Ohio summer sun as I wiped ice cream from my sister’s face.

But the Red Room’s procedure was final and irreversible. They had done their work well; I would never be distracted by children.

Despite myself, I’d be the first to admit that my talk with Clint on the roof seemed to deepen our relationship significantly. We spent more time together, even as our mission detail came to an end – though seemingly without closure – and we were paired up more frequently, tailing new targets and bringing in those who tried to flee.

I’d been with the team almost five months by the time I tapped on his door in the middle of the night.

It had been a long day. Our intelligence had been off, our target had gotten away… And a young girl had died for our efforts.

I tried to sleep, but found myself unable to stop staring at the underside of the table, her pained, pleading expression plastered to the inside of my eyelids. No matter how I tossed and turned, the ghosts would not leave me alone.

She looked like Yelena.

It took only a moment for him to open the door, and I hadn’t yet figured out what was going to say – but I needn’t have worried.

He simply stepped back to let me, jerking his thumb towards the sofa, a low table populated with a bottle of scotch and a small tumbler. “With or without ice?”

“Without,” I replied readily, taking the proffered seat. He only nodded and moved through the space – a mirror of mine, but far more lived-in, with various jackets and arrow-tips scattered about and a small pile of dog-eared novels on the end table. I watched him thoughtfully as he opened a cupboard, well-stocked in various mugs and mismatched crockery, snagging a glass that matched his own before returning to me, offering me the bottle.

When I leant back at last, my glass already half-drained, he reclined beside me. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head slowly, the amber liquid warming my veins. “Tried. I… Get these nightmares, sometimes.”

He simply nodded, his gaze shifting to stare blankly at the ceiling. “I know what you mean… Hard to stop seeing it, isn’t it?”

I hummed in agreement, taking another sip of my drink, squeezing my lids together in an effort to force away the images of her scared face, blonde hair sticking to a sweat-damp forehead, pale eyes wide… “Yes.”

We drank companionably until the first dregs of sunlight began to filter through the half-drawn curtains, muttering platitudes about having tried our best, and how it wasn’t our fault – each certain of this for the other, but less sure for ourselves.

“I should probably try and get some sleep,” I admitted reluctantly, head swirling a little as I leaned forward to put my glass on the table. He groaned his agreement, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Hopefully we’ll both be tired enough that there won’t be any choice in the matter,” he murmured, draining his own glass and standing as I did. I took a step toward the door, and my stomach immediately contorted, thoughts of staring up at that wood once more making my hands shake minutely.

“Nat?”

His hand found the back of my arm gently, and I jumped, startled by the sudden, soft contact. “Hm- What?”

“… You can stay. If you like.”

I stiffened, eyes narrowing as they cut to him. So that’s it? He waited until I was drunk – until I couldn’t fight back? Is that his-

“Just to sleep,” he added, watching me carefully. I just… I know that sometimes it’s easier not to sleep alone. For me, at least. I don’t know – maybe you’re not that way. I just figured I’d offer. You don’t have to-”

“That- Thanks. That would be nice. Thank you.” The words came out sharper than I intended, bladed sentences built to guard myself from the vulnerability of the interaction. But he simply smiled, head tipped infinitesimally to one side as he considered me.

We moved in silence, my gaze diverted as he pulled his shirt over his head, shrugging his way into something that looked soft and inviting, well-worn in places. “You, uh – I mean, you can go and change, if you like. Or- or borrow a shirt, or something. Or not- if you’re happy like that,” he added quickly. I looked down, distantly noticing I was still wearing my suit, and smiled ruefully.

“A shirt would be good. Thanks.”

I surprised myself to find that I needed a long, shaky exhale before I stepped from the bathroom, my eyes low and timid. The shirt hung halfway down my thighs, but I felt surprisingly exposed, fingers knotted uncertainly against my abdomen.

Clint was sat on the edge of his bed and glanced up to offer me a warm smile. “Hey.”

I smiled back tightly, hesitating in the middle of the room. “How… Should we…”

He looked back at the bed as if seeing it in a new light and hummed thoughtfully. “Do you have a preference, side wise?”

The king-size was pressed into a corner, the footboard posing its own difficulties. That left only one way out – and as much as Clint seemed like a nice guy, I didn’t want my single simple exit to be barred by his body. “Outside.”

He nodded and slid his way between the sheets, having donned brightly-coloured lounge pants in my absence, shimmying close to the wall and watching me expectantly.

When I lay beside him, muscles tensed, I half expected him to attempt to reach across the empty space between us. When he didn’t, simply lying with one arm behind his head, I finally began to relax, letting the feel of lived-in sheets and the scent of a good night’s sleep lull me into a sense of safety.

“Barney used to do this, too.”

I rolled to face him silently, one hand under my head as I took in the silhouette of his face, waiting for him to continue, as I was beginning to know he would.

“When my parents were yelling – well… When my dad was yelling. Mom was usually crying. But sometimes they’d be real loud, and he’d get scared. And he’d come and get into my bed so I could look after him. He was older than me, but… Though I guess that was why it scared him more. He understood better than I did.” He paused, jaw working as he considered how to continue, and I could hear the dim whine of his hearing aids in the silence. “He spent a lot of nights in my bed. After the first few, he didn’t ask anymore – he just got in. Sometimes they weren’t even arguing and I’d feel him getting in next to me. We didn’t even need to say anything. It was just nice. Not being alone.” He considered for a moment, then licked his lips. “FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton?”

“Always make sure my door unlocks for Nat, okay? Anytime. Day or night.”

“Yes, Mr. Barton.”

Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, and I reached out, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “That- that’s kind of you. Thanks… Clint.” Distantly, I realised it was the first time I’d ever used his first name – on the rare occasion I’d needed to get his attention, it had always been ‘Barton’. He clearly came to the same revelation, and shot me a gentle smile.

“You’re welcome, Nat. You never need to ask, okay? I’m always here for you.”

I simply nodded, gazing at him in the semi-darkness. For the thousandth time I wondered why he felt the need to be so kind to me – what was it that he would eventually want from me as payment for his tolerance?

He shuffled uncertainly, rolling onto his side to face me, his liquor-tinged breath washing over my face. “Sorry – not the biggest bed... I can try and give you some more space...”

I shook my head slowly, the unyielding sadness in my chest at the memory of the young girl’s face pushing me toward vulnerability. “No...” I breathed, wrapping an arm around my own waist. “Can... Can you hold me?”

He shifted immediately as my voice cracked, arms extending to pull me to his chest, gentle but firm. With my face buried in his throat and my fingers wrapped in his shirt, I finally broke, tears rolling hot and heavy down my cheeks as I sobbed; I cried for the girl who looked so much like my sister, for my sister herself and for the fate that claimed her, and for myself. I cried for the gentle arms of a gentle man, and for the suspicion that sat heavily in my gut.

As my tears began to run dry, sobs turning to hiccups, I felt his breathing begin to slow, his cheek pressed to my hair. I allowed the feeling of his chest rising and falling steadily against me to lull me towards my own slumber.

Just before my consciousness lapsed, I pressed myself closer, smiling softly as his arms tightened instinctively.

“Thank you, Clint.”

[darthbloodorange]

When You Go [Comic]

For the: ✦ @anyfandomdarkbingo - Terminal Illness [O1] ✦@ cap-ironman Stony Bingo 2025 - Image: Dead/Wounded Tony [S4]

✦@ Eclipsing Bingo prompt - Character Death [B2] ✦@ Fandom Free Bingo Pride Event prompt - Helpless [E3] Card 1 ✦@steverogersbingo Round 4 prompt - Hand Holding [E4] (Card: SB4043) ✦ @tonystarkbingo Round 8 - Grief [A1] (Card: 8050)

Medium: Art Word count: N/a Title: When You Go Rating: Teens Universe: Marvel Ultimates Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Warnings: Death, Terminal Illnesses, Cancer, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Hospitals, Aftermath of Violence, Minor Injuries Major Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort (Comfort in the first half - Hurt in the second), Romance, Dancing, Movie Night, Date Night, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Rings, Weddings, Romantic Dinner, Wakes & Funerals, Hurt Tony Stark, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Sick Tony Stark, Hurt Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Inspired by Music, Song Lyrics, POV Steve Rogers ~ Summery: Their forever wasn't as long as they expected…

Inspired by the song "When You Go" by Jonathan Coulton. Heard it for the first time again in years and it gave me ANGSTY Ults Stony feels.

[dvrkblooms]

In the Dark, I Like to Read His Mind (but I’m Frightened of the Things I Might Find)

Read on Ao3, Penana, Squidge, and Tumblr

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E / NC-17

A/N: A dark medieval romance set in a fantastical realm!

Tags: Achillean Romance, Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Dark Fantasy, Creature Feature, Medieval Era, Non Con, Painful Sex, Somnophilia, Underage

Summary

Bucky's realizations bring a certain amount of clarity to his situation that don't necessarily offer comfort. - Steven Grant is called back to his home in the wilds. Will he bring his new muse with him or will he leave the little one to his human fate?

Chapter 2: The Weight of Unslumbering Desolation

Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Arranged Marriage

AU Challenge - Medieval AU

@badthingshappenbingo - Was Too Hard on Them

@bloodyheartsbingo: A Vesper Bleeding on Your Lips' Card (Bloody Hearts Mini Bingo I)

High Five: Whump (Bloody) - Being raped instead of losing their virginity consensually

@darkspicyevanstan - Feminization

@dark-stucky: Bucky's Birthday Bash 2025 - Fae AU

@deaddovedec: 2024 - Week 4: Day 5 - Breathless

@deaddovekink:

AU-Gust '24 - Week 1: Free Use - Using People When They Least Expect It Monsterf*cking March '24 - Bizarre Biology: Abnormal Body Parts

@fairytalebingo - Gift of Beauty

@thefairytalebingo - Royal Blood

@fandombingo:

Neverwhere Bingo - Massacre Wonderland Bingo - Madness and Destruction

@fandom-free-bingo: Tolkien - Fae AU

@halcyonianlove - B2G: Fae

@halloweenhorrorbingo - Being Ripped Out of a Broken Window

@julybreakbingo - Gentle Rape, Kink: Intersex, Unaware They're Being Raped

Macrocest Events:

Cestember - Somnophilia Winter Bingo - Woke Up Naked

@multifandom-flash: Here There Be Monsters Bingo - Dark Hunt, Prima Nocta on Wedding Night

@secretcrypticevents: Into the Wilds Flash - Fantasy AU + Dark Hunt + Lost Prince

@stuckybingo - Free Space + March Monthly Prompt: Music

@winterbreakadvent - Week Two: Day 9 - Light Whump

@wintershieldbingo - Fae

[ Return to Main Post ]

[dvrkblooms]

The Taste of Blood and Wine

Read on Ao3, Penana, Squidge, and Tumblr

Chapter 1: A Road Paved in Uncertainty

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E / NC-17

A/N: A paranormal romance set in a dark omegaverse!

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Achillean Romance, Age Difference, Dark Romance, Gothic Fiction, Modern Era, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Teaser

Playlist

Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Non traditional omegaverse au

@ao3tagbingo - Slice of Life

@buckybarnesbingo - Free Space

@darkacademiabingo - Pressed Flowers

@darkspicyevanstan - Contemporary Gothic Fiction

@fairytalebingo - Over the river and through the woods

@fandom-free-bingo: Tolkien Edition - Free Space

@halcyonianlove - B2R: Omegaverse

@steverogersbingo - A3: Phil Coulson

@stuckybingo - G3: Self-doubt

@wintershieldbingo - Free Space

Summary

Bucky Barnes, an unmated omega at 29 and fresh out of grad school, is considered a spinster and way past his prime. When he receives a mysterious package, his luck seems to begin to change.

[ Return to Main Post ]

[dvrkblooms]

All You Do is Tell Me Lies (I Can't Really Be Surprised Anymore)

Read chapter one on Ao3, Penana, Squidge, and Tumblr!

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E / NC-17

A/N: A dark romance set in an alternate universe!

Tags: Alternate Universe, Dark Fiction, Escort AU

Playlist

Summary

Bucky Barnes, self defense instructor for the widows, thinks it's about to be an ordinary visit when the head widow walks into his dojo. Imagine his surprise when Natasha offers him a mission he's never done before.

Chapter 1: All You Do is Tell Me Lies

Other Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Drug Addiction

@ao3tagbingo - Identity Reveal

AU Challenge - Different First Meeting

@badthingshappenbingo - Drugged

@bloodyheartsbingo: Aspen's Card (Bloody Hearts Bingo I)

Be Good: NSFW (Base) - Getting off on doing what their partner tells them and being called good

@buckybarnesbingo - U5: Reluctant Teamwork

@buckyboybingo - Free Space

@darkacademiabingo - Murder and Death

@darkspicyevanstan - Escort AU

@deaddovedec: 2024 - Week 4: Day 2 - Drugged

@thefairytalebingo - Love at first sight

@fandombingo:

Neverwhere Bingo - "Secrets are expensive." Valentine Trope Flash - A kiss on the cheek Wonderland Bingo - Ruin

@halcyonianlove - February Paramour: Red Room

@multiversebingo: Good Things Can Happen Bingo - Defeating the Aliens, Found Family, Shawarma, Team as Family

@seasonaldelightsbingo: Cozy Feels Bingo - Dehydration

@secretcrypticevents: Into the Wilds Bingo - Black Widow

@steverogersbingo - D1: Clint Barton

@stuckybingo - G2: Winter

@winterbreakadvent - Week Two: Day 11 - Nonconsensual Body Modifications

@wintershieldbingo - Nonconsensual Body Modification

[ Return to Main Post ]

[sinqueen69]

Any Fandom Dark Bingo Master List

Title: Pain & Pleasure, The Masters of Both Pairing/Characters: Bruce Wayne/Dick Grayson/Clark Kent [DCU] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Sadism, Threesome, S&M, Boypussy Dick Grayson, Pussy Spanking, Bondage, Anal Sex Word Count: 1,684 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Sadism

Ao3

Title: Just A Breakable Human Pairing/Characters: Homelander/Hughie Campbell [The Boys] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Shackles, Non-Con, Kidnapped Hughie, Oral, Anal, Homelander is His Own Warning Word Count: 1,657 Bingo Squares:@anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Shackles

Ao3

Title: Overheated Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson [Stranger Things] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Stranded Someplace, Female Steve, Age Difference, Single Mom Steve, Barely Legal, Car Sex, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 2,194 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Stranded Someplace

Ao3

Title: Impatient Pairing/Characters: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski [Teen Wolf] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Biker Derek Hale, Jailbait Stiles Stilinski, Underage Sex, Breeding Kink Word Count: 1,495 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Forbidden relationship

Ao3

Title: Reinstated Tradition Pairing/Characters: Leto Atreides/Paul Atreides [Dune 2021] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Omegaverse, Incest, Forced Chastity, Thigh Fucking, Underage Word Count: 1,846 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Chastity

Ao3

Title: A Dream Come True Pairing/Characters: Dick Grayson/Mob - Henchmen [DCU] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Gangbang, Non-Con, Boypussy Dick Grayson Word Count: 2,050 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo- Square - Halloween

Ao3

Title: Rare To Get You Like This Pairing/Characters: Vax/Grog [Legend of Vox Machina] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Asphyxiation, Breath Play, Top Grog, Bottom Vax, Thigh Riding Word Count: 984 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Asphyxiation

Ao3

Title: You Earned This [Chapter 2] Pairing/Characters: Aizawa/Shinsou [BNHA] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Suspension Play, Boypussy Shinsou, Pussy Spanking, Teacher/Student Relationship, S&M Word Count: 1,461 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo- Square - Suspension Play

Ao3

Title: Not Just A Nickname Pairing: Angeal/Zack Fair [FFVII] Rating: 18+ Tags: AFG Dark Bingo, Puppy Play, Pet Play, BDSM, Age Difference, Mentor/Mentee Relationship, Bit Gag, Bondage Mitts, Role-play, Tail Butt Plug, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Bitch In Heat, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Collar, Leash, Cock Cage, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Rough Sex, Creampie Word Count: 1,452 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Puppy Play, Kinktober 2024 Pet Play Ao3

Title: To Bond Pairing/Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Commander Cody [Star Wars] Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Marriage As A Peace Treaty, Lingerie, Public Sex, Omegaverse, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Alpha Commander Cody, Male Omega’s Have Vagina’s, Public Nudity, Vode Empire, Stewjonii Prince Obi-Wan Kenobi, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Mating Bites, Stomach Bulge, Knotting Word Count: 1,848 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Claim Sex

Ao3

Title: Fire In His Veins Pairing: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson, One-Sided Dick Grayson/Tarantula [DCU] Rating: 18+ Tags: Will Not Be A Victim, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Violence, Minor Character Death, Murder, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Blow Job, Hair Pulling, Feral Dick Grayson Word Count: 2,089 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Will Not Be A Victim

Ao3

Title: Keep Moving Pairing: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson [DCU] Rating: 18+ Tags: Figging, Boypussy Dick Grayson, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Butt Plug, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Dirty Talk, Word Count: 1,281 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Figging

Ao3

Title: First and Favoured Worshipper Pairing: Castiel/Sam Winchester [Supernatural] Rating: 18+ Tags: Burns, Godstiel, Dark Castiel, Grace Use, Dub-Con, Possessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, rough sex, creampie, anal gaping Word Count: 1,503 Bingo Squares:@anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Burns

Ao3

[42donotpanic]

Bitten (for your blood)

Summary: Clint is hungry. But maybe biting his own Personal Dragon isn't the best idea...

Pairing: Clint Barton x Kai Krüger (ONBC) x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1343

Raiting: Teen and Up Audiences

Tags: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon/Werewolf/Vampire Relationship, POV Original Character, Vampire Clint Barton, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Biting, Minor Injuries, Blood Drinking

Written for:

@tropetember : Day 14 - Monstrous / Cultural Differences / Language Barrier

@augustwritingchallenge : Trick-AU-Treat - Bitten

@comfy-vember : Day 3 - Forehead Kisses

@ao3tagbingo : Polyamory

@buckybarnesbingo : Interspecies

@fandom-free-bingo:

Obedience Training - Frosty Edition

Bite - Flight Edition

* Secret Signals, Hunting - Valentines Edition

* "I'm going to kill you.", White Fang - Book Night Edition

* Bite Marks - Wild Edition

* "In Some Cultures That's Considered a Dick Move.", "I told you not to do this!", Licking Lips - Maritime May

* Playful Growls - Pride Edition!

* Bite Marks - Plural Edition

* "You had no right to take it.", Unwillingly Donated - August Chaos Discards

* "Why Didn't You Tell Me?" - Bug Edition

* Bite Marks, "Just... Don't.", Growling - Medical Edition

@fairytalebingo - Dragon Fire

@anyfandomaubingo - Vampire AU

@multifandom-flash

The Undead - Clint Barton Bingo

Short Story - National Writing Day

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Dracophilia

@seasonaldelightsbingo - drawing circles with their fingers on the others skin to calm them down - Under the Sea Edition

@fandombingo - It wasn't this bad before.", Stained with Blood - Wonderland Edition

[dvrkblooms]

A Whisper of Want

Read on Ao3, Penana, Squidge, and Tumblr.

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: M | NC-17

Series: Love Blooms in the Dark

A/N: A dark paranormal romance set in an urban fantasy!

Tags: Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Creature Feature

Summary

Bucky Barnes knows he's being watched the moment he steps into the ballroom where The Institute's Donor Appreciation Banquet is taking place.

Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Fae AU

@ao3tagbingo - Free Space!

AU Challenge - Fae AU

@augustwritingchallenge - Younger(/De-Aged)

@buckybarnesevents: Build-a-Bucky Bingo - June: Age Difference + October: Formal Wear

@darkspicyevanstan: Double Challenge Mode

Boarding School AU + Age Difference

@deaddovedec 2023 - Week 2: Day 13 - Free Day

@deaddovekink: Ageplay April - Day 5: Age Difference

@eclipsingbingo - Age Difference

@fandom-free-bingo: July Edition - Fae AU

@ficwip: All Ships Week - Day 4: Crossovers & Fusion AUs

@julybreakbingo - Fantasy AU

@monsterfucktoberbingo - Vampire

@multifandom-flash: Here There Be Monsters Bingo - Faerie

@multiversebingo: Good Things Can Happen Bingo - Free Space

@steverogersbingo - Free Space

@stuckygeekevents: Stucky Geek Bingo - L1: Fantasy AU

[sinqueen69]

Favourite Patron's [Solo Camboy Obi-Wan]

Title: Favourite Patron's Pairing/Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Dragon’s tail Dildo, Camboy Obi-Wan Kenobi, Omegaverse, Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Boypussy Obi-Wan Kenobi, Size Queen, Fake Cum Word Count: 1,892 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Dragon’s Tail

-I discovered there was a whip, dildo and a tail plug. There is also a lot of different versions of the dildo, so I went with one I thought would work best.

2023 Suggestion Anon wanted: The top watching as the bottom fucks themselves with a machine/dildo/etc

Ao3 | Twitter | Ko-Fi | Curious Cat

[cinderella-ish]

Title: Bloom Within Us Ch. 70 - You're My Whole Heart Pairing: Hiroshi/Sohma Momiji, Sohma Kagura/Yusuke Rating: Teen Word Count: 5982 Warnings: guilt, grief, canon abuse, canon suicide, canon suicide attempts, canon estrangement Summary: Momiji and Kagura tell Hiroshi and Yusuke about the curse after their Christmas Eve date. Created for @anyfandomdarkbingo Square Filled: Taking Someone's Punishment

Link

[sinqueen69]

You Earned This 2 [Aizawa/Shinsou - BNHA]

Title: You Earned This Pairing/Characters: Aizawa/Shinsou Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Suspension Play, Boypussy Shinsou, Pussy Spanking, Teacher/Student Relationship, S&M Word Count: 1,461 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo- Square - Suspension Play

Ao3 | Twitter | Ko-Fi | Curious Cat

Shinsou barely had time to take his shoes off before something looped around his limbs, yanking him into the apartment. Shinsou let out a shocked yelp as the world spun around him as the loops of now familiar fabric wound around his body.

Shinsou’s cheeks burned as he stared at the floor, body squirming in Aizawa’s capture scarf as he realized he was suspended off of the floor, arms pulled behind his back and then pulled towards the ceiling, loops of capture fabric keeping his wrists tied tight together.

Shinsou’s calves were tied to his thighs and his hips ached with the way his legs were spread wide. No amount of squirming loosened the loops of fabric, all it did was make him sway side to side.

“You think I didn’t notice what you were doing in class today?” Aizawa’s voice was low and it sent a thrill down Shinsou’s spine. He had become much more attuned to his Sensei since that day a few weeks ago, that evening had rarely been far from his thoughts. Including today during class, so Shinsou had taken advantage of having a back-row seat.

“I wasn’t doing anything Sensei,” Shinsou denied, he knew that Aizawa caught him but Shinsou wasn’t exactly being subtle.

“Oh, so you didn’t have your hand down your pants, rubbing your slutty cunt?” Aizawa took a handful of Shinsou’s purple hair and yanked. Shinsou moaned unable to stop himself as he looked up at his Sensei, cheeks flushed and lips parted as he noticed the bulge in the front of Aizawa’s jumpsuit.

“You wanted me to see you, wanted to see you being a desperate little slut.” Aizawa’s voice was husky and Shinsou had to check himself before he mouthed at the outline of Aizawa’s cock.

“I wanted you to do something about it Sensei,” Shinsou admitted, yes while the spanking last time had happened it had been shocking and humiliating but Shinsou ached for it to happen again, he ached for Aizawa to make good on his promise to turn him into a proper slut. Yet nothing had happened so Shinsou had taken things into his own hands, literally and thankfully Aizawa had noticed.

“Is that so?” Aizawa drawled as he released his hold on Shinsou’s head and stepped out of Shinsou’s line of sight as the teen’s head hung low.

“Oh!” Shinsou squeaked when his sensei’s fingers roughly rubbed at his crotch, rubbing over his pussy through the fabric of his uniform pants.

“Tell me, did you orgasm while I was teaching?” Aizawa asked, tone uninterested as he rubbed over Shinsou’s clothed pussy with firm touches. Shinsou smothered a whimper as his pussy throbbed, he could feel his panties getting wet and he did not doubt that soon his arousal would be seen through his uniform pants.

“N-No, I edged myself,” Shinsou admitted, he had been on the edge of coming a few times but he could seem to allow himself that ultimate pleasure.

“At least you did something right,” Aizawa hummed as he removed his hand from the damp spot on the crotch of Shinsou’s pants. Shinsou swayed a bit when Aizawa gripped his hip and a soft sound echoed out. Shinsou gasped, startled at the feeling of cold metal sliding past the waistband of his pants and panties.

Shinsou whimpered as Aizawa jerked his hand and sliced open the crotch of his uniform pants, revealing his soaked cunt. The same soft sound echoed again and Shinsou knew that the blade had been sheathed.

“Have you been this wet since I caught you in my capture scarf?” Aizawa asked his bare fingers curved over Shinsou’s wet pussy, applying soft pressure with his palm that made Shinsou’s pussy ache.

“Yes Sensei,” Shinsou had no reason to lie as Aizawa moved his hand over his cunt, each pass making Shinsou that much wetter. Shinsou had been expecting the first spank, but it still made him cry out and jerk in the tight loops of Aizawa’s capture scarf that was keeping him suspended in the air.

“Slut,” Aizawa spat out as he brought his hand down on Shinsou’s pussy again and again. Shinsou whined and squirmed in the bindings, hips jerking so much that Aizawa had to grip Shinsou’s leg to keep him still as he brought his hand down onto the teen’s cunt repeatedly.

“If you wanted me to spank your dirty little cunt again, all you had to was ask.” Aizawa scolded, cock hard in his jumpsuit as he roughly rubbed his fingers through the mess of arousal that was dripping from Shinsou’s puffy pussy. It was quite obscene and all Aizawa wanted to do was hurt it more.

“I’ll ask next time Sensei,” Shinsou promised breathlessly, letting out a little sob when Aizawa’s next spank landed directly on his aching clit. It hurt so good and Shinsou had never been so turned on in his life.

“I don’t trust you remember to ask instead of acting like a brat. Instead, you will wait for me before you leave for class and I’ll spank you then. Let you go through your classes with a puffy, abused pussy. Do you like the sound of that?” Aizawa suggested in a dark tone, using his fingers to spread the teen’s chubby pussy lips wide, exposing his glistening core and engorged clit.

“Yes Sensei, I’d love that,” Shinsou admitted, letting out a soft sob when Aizawa pinched and twisted his sensitive clit. Shinsou felt a few tears drip down his flushed cheek and land on the floor beneath his suspended body as Aizawa tormented his clit with rough touches and twists of his fingers.

Shinsou had never been so wet in his life, he was leaking copiously and he could feel his orgasm building. Shinsou was only vaguely aware of the amount of drool that was clinging to his chin as his mouth hung open as sounds were ripped from it.

Shinsou writhed in the strong loops of his sensei’s capture weapon, pussy visibly throbbing and on display, as Aizawa kept his folds spread open. Shinsou outright sobbed when Aizawa landed a hard spank against his clit with the flat of his hand, tears flowing freely down the teen’s cheeks now as he gasped for breath.

Aizawa cruelly shoved three fingers into the teen’s abused cunt and thrust them in roughly. Shinsou squealed and sobbed as his release squirted out of him, thighs jerking and shaking as his release coated Aizawa’s fingers and the floor below his hanging body.

“Masochist slut,” Aizawa sneered as he yanked his fingers out, wiping them clean on the teen’s uniform pants before walking around to yank Shinsou’s head up. Aizawa hummed, a smirk pulling at his lips as he took in the mess of tears and drool that covered Shinsou’s face.

“Pathetic,” Aizawa commented as he unzipped his jumpsuit, tugging his hard cock out. Shinsou whined lowly as Aizawa rubbed his cock across Shinsou’s cheek, smearing pre-cum over the tear tracks.

“Open wide whore,” Aizawa stated before he plunged his cock into Shinsou’s mouth the moment the teen parted his lips. Shinsou gurgled as the fat head of Aizawa’s cock hit the back of his throat.

Aizawa moaned low and pleased as he used his hold on the teen’s head to move Shinsou up and down on his cock. Shinsou sputtered and drooled helplessly around Aizawa’s thick cock, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks as Aizawa fucked his mouth ruthlessly.

Shinsou loved that Aizawa didn’t care about his comfort, that Aizawa was only using his mouth for his pleasure. Shinsou kept his mouth open as wide as he could manage and breathed through his nose as his mouth was filled roughly.

Shinsou groaned weakly as Aizawa tugged his cock out completely and grunted as he stroked his cock a few times. Shinsou whimpered as he quickly shut his eyes as the first spurts of hot cum arched across his cheek, he had no warning so he was relieved he didn’t get any in his eyes.

“I think I’ll leave you here for a little bit, let the lesson sink in.” Aizawa tucked his cock away once he finished coating Shinsou’s face with his cum. Shinsou squirmed a bit but didn’t beg to be let down. It was sort of nice, being suspended in the air like this. Aizawa patted Shinsou’s head like a good good before he stepped out of Shinsou’s line of sight.

Shinsou closed his eyes and let himself sag in the capture weapon and listened to the soft noises of Aizawa moving around the apartment. He was a mess of cum, arousal and drool, his pussy aching fiercely but wonderfully so Shinsou savoured the sensations and let his mind go blank.

[sinqueen69]

Rare To Get You Like This [Grog/Vax -LOVM]

When Grog gets the usually mouthy Vax like this, he wants to savour it.

AFG Dark Bingo - Asphyxiation

2024 Suggestion Anon: Grog/Vax, with bratty bottom vax and size kink

Title: Rare To Get You Like This Pairing/Characters: Vax/Grog Rating: 18+ Tags/Warnings: Asphyxiation, Breath Play, Top Grog, Bottom Vax, Thigh Riding Word Count: 984 Bingo Squares: @anyfandomdarkbingo - Square - Asphyxiation

Ao3 | Twitter | Ko-Fi | Curious Cat

Vax’s hips were burning with the strain of them being stretched so wide from his place straddling Grog’s thighs. Vax was gripping the front of the Goliath’s shirt, gasping as Grog rocked his thigh up against Vax’s crotch. The half-elf’s cock was hard and dripping over the Goliath’s trousers.

“You’re making a mess,” Grog huffed as he reached down with a single large finger and rubbed the fingertip over the slick head of Vax’s cock. Vax let out a strangled moan at the rough friction that had him bucking against the other’s leg as his head fell back, unbound hair falling over his shoulders.

“You’re the reason for that big guy,” Vax reminded in a snarky voice before letting out a strangled noise when Grog pinched the tip of his cock between his thumb and index finger with a raised brow.

“I don’t like it when you’re snarky, you know that.” Grog reminded as he pinched Vax’s cock again, grinning sharply at the shaky whine Vax released with each pinch. The half-elf’s body started to tremble as his cock ached, Vax still plastered on a cocky smile as he tipped his head back to look up at the Goliath.

“What do you plan on doing about it Grog?” Vax shot back, knowing full well what would happen next if Grog felt he was acting bratty enough.

“Gonna shut you up,” Grog huffed as he pressed his free hand to the front of Vax’s throat. Vax’s Adam’s apple bobbed rapidly before Vax grinned widely and arched into the touch, moaning wantonly at the pressure of the Goliath’s large hand.

“Do it then,” Vax encouraged, eyes fluttering as Grog’s wide, calloused fingers curled carefully around the delicate column of the half-elf’s throat. Vax’s cock visibly throbbed, pre-cum oozing from the tip as pressure was applied to his throat and his air supply was being cut off oh-so-slowly.

Grog looked delighted as Vax’s cheeks flushed, his lips parted and his eyes went half-lidded and hazy. Vax’s whole body relaxed, all the tension flowing out of him as his cock leaked over Grog’s fingertip.

“I like you like this Vax, my hand around your throat and all those snarky words drying up.” Grog rumbled lowly, eyes dark as he gently squeezed the other’s throat, cutting off a bit more of Vax’s air.

Vax made a strangled noise, but he still arched into the Goliath’s hand eagerly. Vax’s eyes were fully shut down, head tipped back and so submissive as his hips jerked absently against Grog’s large, strong thigh.

Grog rubbed his thumb over the hollow of Vax’s throat lazily as he used his other fingers to tighten around Vax’s neck, a wide grin on the Goliath’s face. He loved when he had Vax like this, pliant and trusting. Not many people would trust a Goliath with a hand around his throat.

Yet here was Vax, trusting and unbothered as he ground his erection against Grog’s thigh, obviously turned on by having Grog’s hand around his neck. Grog could live off of this feeling, his cock straining against his pants but he wasn’t bothered. Right now he wanted to see Vax gasping for air as Grog got him off, Vax was so pretty when he was high on pleasure and low on air.

Grog allowed Vax to hump against his thigh a bit longer before he reached down and curled his massive hand around Vax’s cock. The half-elf’s cock looked tiny cupped in the cage of thick, large fingers of the Goliath but it just made Grog shudder, he loved the size difference between the two of them.

Grog gently squeezed and moved his hand, knowing that Vax didn’t need much stimulation when he was in this state. Grog was proven correct as Vax let out a breathless cry, body arching violently and cock spurting cum over Grog’s palm as Grog tightened his grip on the half-elf’s neck.

Vax’s face was open with pleasure, cheeks burning and little ‘ah’s’ escaping his open mouth, the effort of breathing clear and Grog tightened his grip just a touch more just to ensure all of Vax’s release was wrung from his cock. Vax was shaking from his place astride the Goliath’s lap, his breathing extremely shallow and eyes glassy as he opened them just enough to peer down at Grog.

“I like you like this,” Grog said shamelessly as he eased his grip on Vax’s throat, rumbling at the sight of his fingers already bruising up the half-elf’s throat. Vax gasped for air greedily, swaying but steadied by Grog’s hands on his hips firmly.

Grog was watching entranced as Vax tried to settle his high-strung body, high on lack of oxygen and pleasure. Grog smoothed a hand up Vax’s back before carefully carding his fingers through Vax’s long hair, cradling the back of the half-elf’s head in his palm.

“So pretty,” Grog hummed as he tugged Vax forward and shoved his tongue into the other’s mouth. Vax moaned as he half-heartedly kissed back, arms draping over Grog’s shoulders, but Grog appreciated the effort.

“Need a hand big guy?” Vax slurred when their kiss broke, a hand fumbling down towards Grog’s tented pants. Grog gripped Vax’s wrist and brought the half-elf’s arm back up to drape over his shoulders again.

“Nah,” Grog shrugged off the offer to kiss the half-elf again, he would take care of himself later, right now he wanted to hold the pliant, dazed Vax in his arms. It was rare for Grog to be able to get Vax in this state so he was taking advantage of it.

[dvrkblooms]

In the Dark, I Like to Read His Mind (but I’m Frightened of the Things I Might Find)

Read on Ao3, Penana, Squidge, and Tumblr

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E / NC-17

A/N: A dark medieval romance set in a fantastical realm!

Tags: Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Dark Fantasy, Creature Feature, Medieval Era, Non Con, Painful Sex

Teaser

Summary

James Buchanan is sixteen when his life falls apart. He is betrothed to Lord Broq Rumlow of Drakestone, a noble in King Alecsander’s court. After a barbaric rite is gifted to his new husband during their wedding reception, James' plight seemingly goes from bad to worse.

Chapter 1: A Duty to the Crown

Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Feminization

@badthingshappenbingo - Nonconsensual Touching

@buckybarnesevents

Build-a-Bucky Bingo: January - Wet & Messy Hot Bucky Summer 2024: Week 6 - Sex Pollen

@darkspicyevanstan - Quadruple Challenge Mode

Fusion AU + Unseelie + Historical Fantasy Fiction + Arranged Marriage

@deaddovedec 2023 - Week 1: Day 7 - First Night

@deaddovekink - Malewife Mayhem: Day 9 - Prima Nocta

Degeneracy Week - Day 2: Underaged

@julybreakbingo - Dark Fantasy AU + Fae AU + High Fantasy AU + Kink: Size Difference

@secretcrypticevents

Into the Wilds Bingo: Unseelie Into the Wilds Flash: Medieval AU + Fae + Prima Nocta

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[cinderella-ish]

Title: Bloom Within Us Ch. 63 - She's Wearing Pink! Pairing: Hanajima Saki & Sohma Kyou, Hiroshi & Yusuke Rating: Teen Word Count: 4083 Warnings: mental breakdown, guilt, implied/referenced self-harm, referenced wrongful imprisonment, death, grief, fistfight, blood, injury, referenced former gang membership Summary: Saki makes some changes. Author's Note: Saki stops blaming herself for the collapse of a classmate when she was younger and has an identity crisis. Hiroshi takes the blame for his and Yusuke's injuries, even though Yusuke is the one who punches him. Created for @anyfandomdarkbingo Square Filled: Taking the Blame

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