i recently learned of the power imbalance between knights and commonfolk, and now i'm having gross thoughts of a knight abusing his position of authority over a yeoman's/farrier's daughter 🫠 cornering her when her father is out working and quietly reminding her that if she says anything, she's the one who'll face the consequences of adultery, not him. and really, who is gonna believe the lowly daughter of a farmer over a knight who has the backing of the church and took a vow of celibacy?
or a knight pressuring the lord's wife/daughter into gross deviancy in exchange for actually protecting the dumb lord who has no idea that his knight's hand is currently sneaking under her skirts during dinner
u think i am joking but this is genuinely how i look while writing: “god, you’re so fucking wet” and “such a good girl” for the hundreth time in my miserable existence
Some rules in society are so-called "idiot rules" that are only in place for idiots. The Thing You're Not Supposed To Do can be done safely, but since an idiot can't do it, they have to officially prohibit it from everyone. And if you do fuck it up and end up eating shit, you're best off dusting yourself off, hoping that nobody saw you, and never tell anyone that you even tried, so they won't find out that you're an idiot.
Any time I see a wild warning label my mind immediately goes “who actually fucking did that????” Because good god I’m dumb but I’m not ‘takes medication I know I’m allergic to, and is shocked I go into anaphylactic shock’ dumb.
Pretty sure my IUD is doing something it shouldn’t be doing (I’m cramping and bleeding I feel like I’m dying) but thanks to the American healthcare system and the fact that I only get paid once a goddamn month I can’t really afford the $50 copay to see a doctor. Yay.
Kat woke the next morning with her body aching, not from exhaustion, but from the storm raging beneath her skin. The memories were sharper than any nightmare: Bucky’s mouth hot on hers, his hands rough and knowing, the way he’d left her trembling and wanting more.
She showered until the water ran cold, scrubbing at her skin like it could erase the way she’d melted under his touch. But the bruise on her neck, a dark smudge barely hidden by her collar, mocked her every time she glanced in the mirror.
When she stepped into the kitchen, the air shifted instantly. Sam sat at the island, scrolling through his phone, oblivious. But Steve looked up the second she entered, his blue eyes landing on the mark peeking out from under her collar. His gaze darkened, just slightly, just enough.
Bucky leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand, smirk firmly in place. He looked relaxed, but his eyes flicked down her body like he was still mapping every inch.
“Morning, princess,” Bucky drawled, voice low and edged with amusement.
“Watch it,” Steve said, his voice a quiet, lethal calm that made Sam’s head jerk up.
Kat froze between them, feeling the weight of their eyes like a vice. She mumbled a greeting, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. But as she turned, Bucky’s words drifted after her like smoke.
“Rough night?” he asked softly, too softly. Only she and Steve heard.
Steve’s fingers clenched around his mug, the ceramic creaking. “Careful, Buck.”
Kat didn’t wait for more. She fled to the gym, trying to lose herself in the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the treadmill. The sweat on her skin felt like penance, but it couldn’t drown out the heat simmering low in her belly.
Steve followed not long after. She felt his presence before she saw him, the way the air seemed to tense when he entered. He stood beside the treadmill, eyes sharp as ice.
“Cut it,” he said simply.
Kat slowed to a stop, breath ragged, chest heaving. Before she could step off, he caught her wrist, firm but not painful, and held her still.
“What’s going on with you and Bucky?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was something dark coiled beneath it.
Kat tried to pull back, but his hand tightened, thumb brushing over her pulse. “Nothing,” she lied, her voice small, unconvincing.
Steve’s eyes narrowed. He stepped in closer, crowding her, his other hand coming up to cradle her jaw. His touch was careful, too careful, as if he was holding something fragile he might break. His thumb traced her lower lip, feather-light, but his eyes burned.
“I don’t think you understand what he is,” Steve murmured, voice low, eyes flicking to her mouth. “I just want you to be careful.”
Her breath caught. His face was so close she could taste his words, feel the heat rolling off him like a storm. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just the two of them.
His lips hovered over hers, so close she could almost feel the phantom press, but then Sam’s cheerful voice echoed through the gym doors.
“Hey, you two done flirting yet?” Sam called, blissfully unaware.
Steve’s mask slammed back into place. He stepped away so quickly it felt like a slap. Kat stumbled back, the loss of his heat leaving her cold.
The day crawled by with unbearable tension. Sam left on errands, Nat was off with Clint, Tony hadn’t returned, and Steve had gone to a late meeting with Fury, leaving her alone in the apartment with Bucky.
She tried to lose herself in a book, but the sound of the door creaking open made her heart jump, rising from her bed nervously as her eyes met stormy blue.
Bucky stepped in, shutting it behind him with a quiet finality that made her stomach drop. He looked casual, jeans, henley, but his eyes were anything but.
“You looked so pretty last night,” he said, voice low as he prowled closer. “All I can think about was how you tasted.”
Kat’s breath hitched. She backed up a step, but he only smiled, like a wolf savoring the chase.
“This is wrong…” she whispered.
“Then tell me to stop.” He stood inches away now, eyes locked on hers, daring her to push him away. She didn’t. Couldn’t.
He crowded her against the wall, hands braced on either side of her head, caging her in. His mouth crashed onto hers, fierce and consuming. Her mind blanked, senses reduced to heat and taste and the soft growl in his throat. His hands roamed, one warm and rough on her waist, the other cold and unyielding as it slid up to her throat, not squeezing but resting there with a promise.
A noise in the hall snapped them apart, footsteps, low voices. Steve was home.
Bucky pulled back, breathing hard, but his eyes gleamed with dark amusement. “Later, princess.” He left her room with a smirk, the door open to the hallway
Steve’s voice cut the quiet like a blade. “Stay away from her.”
Bucky didn’t even flinch. He looked at Steve slowly, smirk still in place. “Or what? You gonna fight me?”
The hallway was too narrow for the rage simmering between them. Steve stepped forward, dark gaze trained on Bucky, his expression carved from ice. His voice was low, soft, but it carried the weight of a bomb.
“Don’t. Test me.”
Kat peeked her head through the still open bedroom door, heart hammering. The air felt like it might combust, the silence between them sharp enough to draw blood.
Bucky’s eyes flicked to her, then back to Steve. “You think you can protect her from herself?”
Steve’s jaw flexed, his hand shooting out to grab Bucky by the shirt, slamming him into the wall. The impact rattled the pictures in the hallway, the sound loud in the tense silence.
“You don’t get to touch her,” Steve hissed, voice silky and deadly quiet.
“Looks like I already did,” Bucky shot back, voice just as soft, just as lethal.
Kat’s eyes filled with tears. “Stop!” she choked out, her voice cutting through the storm.
Both men froze. She shook her head violently and bolted for her room, the door slamming shut behind her like a gunshot.
She collapsed on her bed, sobbing. The memories twisted inside her, Hydra’s cold hands, Bucky’s burning kiss, Steve’s hungry eyes. Everything felt tangled, broken, unstoppable.
Her fingers found the knife under her pillow, cold steel grounding her even as her mind fractured.
She whispered to herself, voice shaking, tears hot on her cheeks. “I can’t do this…”
On the other side of the door, the super soldiers stood in silence, chests heaving, eyes locked.
Steve spoke first, voice low, calm, but edged like a blade. “Stay away from her.”
Bucky’s answering smile was slow, feral. “Not a chance.”
The game was no longer hidden. And Kat was the prize.
Imagine being sick and finding an old family recipe for a chicken soup but the second you add the last ingredients to the pot it starts to billow smoke and the next thing you know there's a seven foot tall demon standing in your kitchen offering to kill your ex. And when you tell them no, they offer to fuck you instead.
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