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MCU Kink Bingo #4
Title: What Did I Do to Deserve You? Link to AO3 Square Filled: G-1: Pampering Ship: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Major Tags: None Summary: Steve walks into Bucky's apartment on Valentine's Day. He didn't expect all the candles, or flower petals, or the mood lighting. Who knew his boyfriend was such a romantic? | Modern College AU Word Count: 3,741 Created for @mcukinkbingo
Reassurance
Title: Reassurance
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13793475
Square Filled: N4: Avengers Cuddle Pile!
Ship: None (Gen)
Rating: General Audiences
Major Tags: None
Summary: Following a hard battle, the Avengers rest, and make sure one of their own is okay.
Word Count: 1895
Created for @mcukinkbingo
Full Text Below:
Steve shuffled into the common room sluggishly, his feet dragging along the carpet. He should get a shower, but really, all he wanted to do right now was sleep. Still, the need to check on his teammates after the battle was persistent, and they’d all show up here eventually.
“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky muttered from his sprawl on the floor, his flesh arm thrown over his eyes and his metal one limp on the floor. It had taken a severe beating, and Steve was sure that Tony would get right on fixing it. In the morning. For now, the genius was probably so sleep-deprived that he’d end up blowing the lab sky high if he tried to tinker with anything.
“Mmph,” Steve replied, dropping down next to his friend, one arm flung over Bucky’s waist. “Wake me when I’m dead,” he managed to mutter. Bucky hummed in agreement, but otherwise didn’t move.
The sound of shuffling feet paused in the doorway, and Steve felt someone observing him and Bucky. “Oh, excellent. Heat,” Tony mumbled, staggering forward. A moment later, he was dropping down, directly on top of Steve’s back. Steve squeaked, his spine going tense as Tony’s freezing fingers tucked themselves against his back. Tony’s sigh of relief almost drowned out Bucky’s chuckle. Almost.
“Got some for you, too, Freezer Burn,” Tony told him blithely, then shifted. This time, Bucky made a pained sound, and Steve realized that Tony was now at an angle across the both of them, his hands still pressed to Steve’s back, and his feet off to the side - on top of Bucky.
“What the hell, Stark,” Bucky whined, though he made no moves to push the other man off.
“Yeah, turns out the ocean is pretty fucking cold this time of year,” Tony said almost conversationally, but Steve could hear the faint tremor in his voice, even as Tony’s teeth chattered. He slumped further against the floor, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been fast enough to stop the….acid, or whatever the hell it had been, from eating through Iron Man’s armor before a giant tentacle had slammed him into the water. Tony had been quick enough to call another suit to him - and War Machine had kept the giant kraken-snake hybrid occupied by shooting it in the eyes - and had managed to pull himself back out of the water within a few seconds, but it had been terrifying there for a few minutes.
“Ah, friend Anthony!” Thor greeted as he strode into the room, his exuberance almost painful to the men collapsed on the floor. How was it possible for the Asgardian to still have so much energy?! He had practically toasted the thing from the inside out with a huge bolt of lightning. The smell had been sickening. “It is good to see that you are well enough to have joined our Shield Brothers in their rest. Is there room for one more, perchance?”
“Knock it off with the perchances, and take a load off,” Tony told him, one hand sliding out to beckon at Thor before burrowing back to its spot between Tony’s chest and Steve’s spine.
“Thank you, my friends,” Thor exclaimed before settling himself nearby. He still smelled of storms and electricity. Steve could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise, electricity tingling across his scalp and shoulders.
“Dammit, Thor,” Bucky complained. “Why the fuck do you still have so much energy?”
Thor’s laughter rumbled through his chest as he settled on the floor by Steve. Tony promptly rolled over and dropped his head on Thor’s lap. “I find battle invigorating!” he exclaimed. “Do you not feel the same?”
Tony whined. “No, I don’t feel the same,” he grumbled. “Flying is exhilarating. Inventing a new element is exhilarating. Battling a giant demon squid-hydra hybrid is not fucking exhilarating!” Thor laughed again, joined by Steve while Bucky just mumbled his agreement.
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Sam asked, strolling casually into the room and eyeing the small pile of Avengers on the floor. “Giant demon squid-hydra hybrid?”
“I’d flip you off, but that would require actual effort,” Tony muttered. “You can call it whatever you want, I don’t care.”
Sam grinned, wandering into the kitchen and rummaging around in the fridge for a few minutes. The fridge door clinked, and a moment later, Sam dropped a pile of water bottles near them before settling himself on the floor, his back leaning against the couch behind him. He cracked open one of the water bottles and took a long drink, then let his head drop back against the couch. He stretched his legs out, burying them under Bucky’s thighs. The Soldier just glared at him, but didn’t bother moving, and Sam smirked.
“What’s this? Are we having a cuddle party and nobody told me?” Clint demanded, dragging a tolerantly amused Natasha into the room with him. “Not fair!” he protested.
“Oh my god, shut up, Katniss,” Tony told him. “How about you make yourself useful like Wilson here and get us some food?”
Clint laughed as he dropped next to them, pulling Natasha into his lap. “Sure! Jarvis, order us the usual post-mission feast, would you?” he asked.
“Of course, Agent Barton,” the AI replied politely. “Expected arrival is thirty-five minutes.”
“Thanks, J! You’re awesome,” Clint complimented him. Tony forgave him and moved enough to roll one of the water bottles his way. “Thanks,” Clint said, cracking it open and offering it to Natasha first, before taking a sip of his own. He rolled slightly to the side so that his shoulder was pressed against Sam’s. “So...that majorly sucked,” he said at last.
Tony snorted. “You think?” he asked sarcastically. “The Mark Forty-Seven is not made for underwater battle. If I had know that was going to happen, I would have brought the Rubber Duckie.”
There was a long moment of silence as the other Avengers contemplated the words that had just come out of Tony’s mouth. It was, naturally, Clint who then demanded, “Rubber Ducky? Do you really have an armor nicknamed Rubber Ducky?” When no answer was forthcoming, he turned to yell over his shoulder, “Does Tony really have a Rubber Ducky armor?”
“Stop saying Rubber Ducky, you sound like a two-year-old,” Rhodey told him; but he answered anyway. “Yes, Tony has an armor he designed solely for underwater combat. He nicknamed it Rubber Ducky.”
“I fail to see why this surprises you,” Natasha told Clint, her hands scritching lightly against the blonde’s scalp. “He has robots he built that he named DUM-E, Butterfingers, and U. I don’t know why you would expect the armors to be any different.”
“I’d resent that if it wasn’t true,” Tony admitted.
The eighth member of their little group wandered into the room and observed them all with mild consternation. “You do realize that there is actual furniture in this room?” he asked. “Very nice furniture, even.”
Tony lifted his head, his extremities finally warming up, thanks to super soldier heat output. “Well, yeah, but there’s not enough room on the couch for all of us,” he pointed out. “Which sort of defeats the purpose of a cuddle pile.” There were various murmurs of agreement from the others, and Phil just sighed quietly and walked over, eyeing the sprawled out Avengers again before shrugging and dropping to the couch, stretching out along its length. One of his hands reached down and brushed against Clint’s back, a small anchor to the rest of the group. Clint smiled, turning his head to kiss the inside of Phil’s wrist, while Natasha shifted enough to wrap one hand lightly around the Agent’s ankle.
“Excellent,” Tony murmured, noting that only one Avenger was missing. “Jarvis, where’s Bruce?” he asked, hoping that the other man would decide to join them tonight. The Hulk had been needed to take down their opponent this time, and that meant that Bruce might not be wanting anybody else’s company now.
“Bruce is right here,” he man in question spoke up as he entered, carrying a pile of familiar boxes with him. “The food arrived on my way up,” he added, dropping the boxes of pizza onto a nearby table before scooping up another bottle of water and dropping down to the floor, close to the rest of the group. Tony immediately abandoned the two soldiers in favor of rolling over and wrapping his arms around Bruce’s waist. Bruce looked down at him with a fond, quiet smile, one hand sliding upwards to run through Tony’s hair. The genius practically purred, making Bruce chuckle.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving,” Sam spoke up, groaning as he climbed to his feet, earning a protest from Clint as his support was suddenly taken away. “Anybody else?” he offered magnanimously. He got a chorus of enthusiastic approval and huffed as he started putting pizza on plates and handing them around.
Bruce accepted a plate for both himself and Tony, his hand moving from Tony’s hair to the back of his neck and then sliding down his arms to brush along his fingers. “Still cold?” he asked quietly, concern evident in his tone.
“A little,” Tony admitted, not able to lie to his best friend. It wasn’t like Bruce couldn’t feel how chilly his hands still were. “It’s a lot better now, though,” he added. “Steve and Buckaroo helped.”
“I’m sure,” Bruce murmured wryly, then looked up with a murmur of thanks at Phil, who had gotten up from the couch to offer them the afghan that sat along the back of it. Accepting it, Bruce dropped the heavy blanket over Tony and urged him to sit up so he could eat.
Tony grumbled at losing his comfortable spot, but sat up, shivering as the cooler air of the room hit him before the blanket settled back around his shoulders. Silently, Bruce shifted so that he leaned against Tony’s left side, a warm line of heat. Steve stood to help Sam distribute the pizza, handing out the last couple of pieces before dropping back to the floor, this time behind Tony, his legs on either side of Tony’s hips.
Once he was settled, Steve looked at Bucky pointedly. The Soldier rolled his eyes, but scooted over so that he was seated on Tony’s other side. It was sorely tempting to be a dick and sprawl across Tony’s lap, but since Tony had been hit with the acidic spit while knocking Bucky out of its way, he supposed he could at least loan his body heat to the other man.
Tony raised an eyebrow at him, then rolled his eyes, making it clear that he knew exactly what was going on, but he didn’t move from his position leaning tiredly against Bruce’s shoulder.
“Oooh! Are we cuddling Tony now?” Clint asked, as excitable as always. Natasha simply stood up and moved over, settling herself back down by Tony’s knees. Tony gave her a tired smile of thanks, then let his eyes drift shut. He was barely aware of the remaining Avengers moving to curl up around him, a show of solidarity and support. He was safe and warm and full, surrounded by people that he’d risk his life for, and that would do the same for him.
Safe in the middle of the Avengers Cuddle Pile, Tony slept.
A Brief Respite
Title: A Brief Respite
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13681113
Square Filled: Gi: Nick Fury x Phli Coulson
Ship: Nick Fury x Phil Coulson
Rating: General
Major Tags: None
Summary: Phil closed the door behind him with a quiet click, shutting out the busy New York City traffic. Taking a moment, he allowed himself to lean lightly against the door behind him and close his eyes, but just for a second, and then he was straightening up and toeing off his shoes before heading further into the apartment, removing his jacket and tie and dropping them casually over the back of his armchair.
Word Count: 1965
Created for @mcukinkbingo
Full Text Below:
Phil closed the door behind him with a quiet click, shutting out the busy New York City traffic. Taking a moment, he allowed himself to lean lightly against the door behind him and close his eyes, but just for a second, and then he was straightening up and toeing off his shoes before heading further into the apartment, removing his jacket and tie and dropping them casually over the back of his armchair. Clint would have been aghast if he’d seen it, the normally pristine man rumpled and exhausted. But Clint would probably never see him again, even if he did find out that Phil was alive.
“Long day?” a low, gravelly voice asked from the doorway to the kitchen.
Phil shrugged. “Not longer than usual,” he admitted. Then he grimaced. “Reyes did manage to fry half the instruments in the cockpit, so we’re grounded until the system can be repaired.” And yet, somehow, nothing that had been destroyed in the blaze had prevented them from landing safely.
“An accident?” his companion asked sarcastically, moving further into the room and resting a broad hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.
Phil gave his friend and lover a tired smile. “Depends on who you ask, I suppose,” he answered truthfully. Ghostrider would probably admit, smugly, that he’d done it just to get off the plane for a bit. And while Robbie wasn’t exactly in control of the demon riding him, the Ghostrider usually didn’t come out to play unless there was terminal justice to be doled out. Phil rather suspected that the sudden failure of the generator had more to do with Robbie’s interest in their resident hacker. He seemed rather enamored with Daisy, and Phil honestly wasn’t sure whether he should encourage it or not. He had to keep reminding himself that Daisy was an adult and could decide for herself if she wanted to be involved with Reyes and his demon.
“That would explain why you’re here, and not down in Paraguay,” Nick Fury replied neutrally, moving up behind Phil.
With a sigh, Phil allowed himself a moment to just lean back into the other man, letting Nick support them both. He felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head and murmured appreciatively. “Dinner?” he asked hopefully, though he made no attempt to move away. Even if he couldn’t voice it yet, it was nice to be home for a few days, and nicer still to come home and have somebody waiting for him.
“ETA ten minutes,” Nick informed him with a wry grimace. Phil chuckled; of the two of them, Phil was usually the one who cooked, even if it was only simple dishes. Nick preferred to let somebody else do the cooking, though his paranoid personality usually meant that delivery was restricted to a small number of businesses and very specific delivery drivers, following a very thorough background check.
“Well, whatever the reason, it’s good to have you back,” Nick told him solemnly, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder before pulling away and prowling towards the front door of the apartment, where he’d wait for their food. And woe be the driver that showed up even a minute late. “Might want to get a quick shower,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Phil grimaced, but didn’t disagree. Even with the amenities on the large military transport aircraft they called the Bus, a proper shower with heated water was something of a luxury.
Padding towards the bathroom on socked feet, Phil was grateful when he saw the towels on the warming rack and soft, comfortable clothes nearby. Stark might tease that Phil had been born in a three-piece designer suit, but when he was home, Phil preferred to lounge around in baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt that was big enough to hang off his shoulders.
Phil’s shower was perfunctory at best as he washed off the grime and exhaustion of several weeks of stress and frustration, chasing Inhumans around the world in the hope that they could get to them before more hostile parties did. In the last three weeks, they had managed to save eight, but had lost another five before all was said and done. This small reprieve was a greater relief than Phil was willing to admit in the face of those he had failed.
When he was done, he toweled himself off with the large, warm blanket, smiling when he realized that Nick had chosen his favorite one - a red, white, and blue one with Cap’s shield on it, and got dressed, sighing as the heated cotton slid over slightly damp skin.
Stepping out, he sniffed appreciatively, smiling when he realized that Nick had ordered food from the little bistro about two blocks away. Their paninis were excellent, as was their wine selection. “Capri?” he asked hopefully, walking into the kitchen where Nick was busy getting food onto plates. Phil paused for a moment, then relaxed, tension easing out of his shoulders. Usually, they didn’t bother with transferring the food to plates, preferring to just eat them out of the containers they came in, but it was obvious that Nick had something more specific in mind tonight, and Phil watched as the other man cut their paninis into smaller, bite-sized portions.
“Grab the wine and a couple of glasses, would you?” Nick murmured, focusing on the meal. Phil did as he’d been asked, bringing everything into the living room and setting it on the table in front of the couch before pulling the table closer and then settling himself comfortably on the couch. He was too old to do this on the floor, but they made do.
Nick handed Phil the plate when he came out, and Phil held it while Nick settled himself on the far side of the couch. Nick took the plate back, and Phil scooted over, settling so that his back was pressed against Nick’s chest. “Comfortable?” Nick asked with quiet amusement. Phil hummed back, enjoying the closeness. Most people only saw the gruff, paranoide exterior, but Phil knew better. For those that Nick cared for, he was fiercely loyal and viciously protective. He was also incredibly gentle.
Nick speared a bite of the panini on a fork and lifted it to Phil’s mouth. Phil let his lips part just enough that the food could slide in, and he groaned in pleasure as the taste hit his mouth. Capri Paninis were his absolute favorite, and Nick’s chuckle rumbled down Phil’s spine. “It must have been a really rough ride,” Nick murmured, taking the next bite for himself while Phil chewed, enjoying the line of heat along his back and the outside of his legs.
“You have no idea,” he managed to mumble before accepting another morsel. “I feel like I’m running in circles with no actual goal.” Phil really hated not having a plan. Not that plans always worked - people like Stark and Thor tended to throw a wrench into the works just by existing - but he usually had a generalized idea of what he was getting into. With the Inhumans, the plan was just to get there and then wing it and hope Daisy and her small team of fellow Inhumans could get the job done.
“You can’t save everybody,” Nick reminded him, holding up another forkful. Phil frowned, and Nick pressed the fork against his lips, carefully. Phil opened his mouth with a sigh, accepting the truth of Nick’s statement. He was only one man with a small team of people with very little outside report. Ever since SHIELD had collapsed under the weight of Hydra’s exposure, their influence had become negligible. It would take time to rebuild the organization, and in the meantime, the Inhumans’ plight would not wait.
“Enough about that,” Nick decided. “Sheila got a new cat. She named it Thor.”
Phil relaxed at the obvious change in topic, knowing that Nick didn’t actually give a damn about how many cats Sheila had - she was up to nine now, he was pretty sure, and she kept naming them after Avengers - but that he was giving Phil something else to focus on, meaningless gossip. A bite of salad was next, and Phil twitched at the sudden sharp taste of the house dressing. Then it was back to the panini, and the occasional sip of wine, and Phil allowed himself to do what Nick wanted him to do. He drifted, listening to the rumble of Nick’s voice without actually paying more than the barest attention to his words. None of it was important right now, and while he’d be able to recall it perfectly later, there was nothing pressing about it.
Instead, he focused on the rise and fall of Nick’s chest where it pressed against his spine, the shift of muscle as the other man fed him small bites of food, or reached for one of the glasses of wine. He wasn’t required to talk, or to feed himself, or to do anything but accept what was given to him. It wasn’t a ritual that the two of them indulged in often, Nick’s impatience clashing with Phil’s need to have some sort of control over any given situation, but when they did, it was fantastic.
Eventually, all the food was gone, and Phil blinked slowly back to awareness. Behind him, Nick hadn’t moved more than was necessary to put the plate on the nearby table, and his arms were now wrapped loosely around Phil’s waist, resting against the warm skin of his stomach. It was quiet in the apartment, but it was a comfortable silence born of long-standing familiarity. Soon life outside would intrude again, and Phil would start planning for the next rescue mission while Nick did whatever it was he did on the ground while Phil was away. But right now, there was just warmth and a gentle touch and a full belly, and Phil allowed his head to drop back and rest on Nick’s shoulder. “Better?” Nick asked him, and Phil hummed his contentment, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused.
He felt a gentle kiss pressed against his temple, and then Nick was urging him off the couch. Phil went without complaint, and Nick herded him towards the bedroom. “Get some sleep, Phil,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
Phil dropped easily to the bed, allowing Nick to manipulate his limbs as the other man pulled the sheets and comforters over him before leaving the room. He left the door open, though, and Phil could hear him moving around in the living room and kitchen, cleaning up after themselves. He vaguely felt like he should be helping, but his body was like a lead weight, heavy and unresponsive, and so he just let himself float there, occasionally dozing off only to be awoken by the clink of silverware against glass or the low murmur of the dishwasher.
After a short stop in the bathroom, Nick made his way back into the room and under the comforter. Phil dredged up enough energy to roll towards him, and Nick hauled him the rest of the way in, his head coming to rest on Phil’s chest, over his heart. Nick had confided in him once - and only once - that after Phil had come back, before they’d woken him from the medically induced coma, he had spent the better part of a day lying just like this, listening to Phil’s heart beat, clinging to an impossible miracle.
Nick’s weight pressed him a bit further into the bed, and Phil’s eyes drifted closed without his consent. But that was fine; he was home, and they were safe. The rest of it could wait until the morning.
He might not even write Reyes up for the inappropriate handling of agency equipment.
Probably.
A Safe Space
Title: A Safe Place
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13342515
Square Filled: B1 - Nesting
Ship: Tony x Bucky
Rating: Mature
Major Tags: None
Summary: Nesting: The act of cuddling and other such public displays of affection in an open area. Also, the act of settling yourself into a cozy convenient corner of your bedroom and surrounding yourself with all the comforts of your many vices. Also, the act of leaving small stashes of your things in various places in a random and unorganized manner.Or: Bucky has a safe space of his own. Tony likes to spend time in it.
Word Count: 3683
Created for @mcukinkbingo
Full Text Below:
When Bruce moved into the Tower, Tony made a space just for him. He had a lab – three labs, actually – and an entire floor to live on. There was a room for meditation, and another that could be locked down if Bruce transformed. There were exotic teas from the world over, and a library stacked floor to ceiling with books that covered every genre and subject imaginable. There were tablets and holo-displays and servers keyed to his unique gamma signature. It was everything Bruce could have ever wanted, and far more than he’d ever dared to hope for.
As the rest of the Avengers trickled in, one or two at a time, Tony did the same for them. Clint had a full-size shooting range; Natasha had a dance studio. They shared an armory. Steve had a gym and a track that could be raised or lowered, or have hurdles or pitfalls. He also had a room filled with things from the forties, and tech that was a bit more old-fashioned and less complicated. He had a library as well. Thor’s room was done in as close a proximity to Asgardian décor as Tony could figure out from the vivid descriptions the blonde prince enjoyed regaling them with.
Tony’s floor, however, was as Spartan and cold as if nobody lived there at all. The furniture was sleek leather, the technology high-end. The fridge and bar were always stocked, the bathroom always pristine. Even the bedroom looked like nobody slept there, though the whole team had seen him go up to the Penthouse to sleep off a four-day engineering binge.
Tony’s workshop was the exact opposite, though, covered in half-completed projects and decorated with drawings made by the bots. There was a mini fridge and a comfortable couch. Tools were scattered about in organized chaos that only Tony and his bots seemed to understand. Snacks were hidden in drawers and on shelves, and the stools and chairs were designed with comfort in mind.
The Avengers rarely had cause to go to the Penthouse, which was why it took them so long to notice the changes. It started shortly after Barnes moved in, warily following Steven into the Tower, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger. Tony had taken one look at the soldier’s cybernetic arm and had practically kidnapped the man, spending hours with him in the workshop.
Barnes, one he’d realized that Tony had no intention of hurting him or experimenting on him, was content to stay down in Tony’s workshop with him, playing with the bots and pestering Tony about modern technology. It turned out that Barnes was a bit of a science nerd, and Tony was all too happy to answer his incessant questions.
Steve was the first one to realize something was going on when Bucky stopped sleeping in the floor that Tony had set aside for him. Questioning Jarvis proved fruitless as the AI adamantly refused to break the privacy protocols set in place by Tony, stating only that Sergeant Barnes was not in danger, nor was he a a danger to any of the Tower’s residents.
Steve cornered Bucky a few days later after one of their morning runs, and Bucky cheerfully told him to mind his own damn business. Steve opened his mouth to press the issue, but Bucky ignored him in favor of greeting Tony, who was staggering drunkenly down the hall.
“You’re a mess,” Bucky told him, gripping his arm carefully and steering him away from the wall he’d been about to run into. “C’mon, bed.”
Tony looked up at the soldier and gave a long, slow blnk, swaying on his feet. “Hm?” he mumbled absently.
“Bed,” Bucky repeated in mild exasperation. “Y’know, that monstrosity you’ve got up a coupla floors?” He was grinning, not bothering to hide his fond amusement at the genius’ apparent confusion. Steve just watched in mild consternation, knowing that he was missing something, but not sure what.
Tony blinked. “Oh, yes,” he agreed. “It’s a very nice bed.” He tipped his head to the side and gave Bucky a smile that Steve wall all too familiar with. “Your Nest is better, though,” he added. Steve could hear the capitalization.
“Buck-“ he started, but the other man glared at him so darkly that he snapped his mouth closed abruptly.
The soldier turned back to Tony once he was satisfied that Steve wasn’t going to interrupt, his expression softening as he gave the genius a pleased smile. “You really think so?” he asked.
“Yep,” Tony nodded, leaning tiredly against Bucky. “’S comfortable.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Bucky told him. Steve was left to stare after them in stunned surprise as the two men made their way down the hall and to the lift.
“Hey, Buck?” he called, just before the two men entered the elevator. Barnes looked back at him curiously, and Steve sighed. “Try to get him to sleep more than two hours, yeah?” he asked, as close as he could manage to giving them his blessing.
Bucky’s grin was blinding. “Yeah,” he agreed, just before the doors to the lift closed on them, whisking them away.
Away from the prying eyes of Captain America, Tony straightened up with an exaggerated yawn, stretching enticingly so that the hem of his tank top lifted, revealing a strip of tanned skin by his waist. He grinned wickedly at Bucky, who was smirking back at him. “Think that did it?” he asked.
Bucky shrugged. “He’s been side-eyein’ me for days now,” he grouched. “I figured it was ‘bout time we helped him out a bit. I hate seein’ him worry like that, like he’s scared I’ll run off if he asks me somethin’.”
Tony leaned into him more firmly. “He’ll be fine,” he reassured him. “Besides,” he pointed out slyly, “I’m pretty sure we just smacked him over the head with a sledgehammer.” Bucky’s metal arm slid easily around his shoulder, a familiar weight by now. “So now what?” Tony purred seductively.
Bucky nuzzled against him, pressing lips to the top of Tony’s head. “Well, Stevie did suggest that I try to get you sleep for ‘more than two hours’,” he suggested hopefully.
Tony snorted. “Gotta wear me out before that,” he shot back.
Barnes moved suddenly, before Tony could react to the change in position, gripping him at the hips and shoving him back against the wall of the lift, one firm thigh sliding between Tony’s legs. “Oh, I plan to,” he growled teasingly, a hint of challenge in his gaze.
Tony grinned. “Oh, excellent,” he sighed happily. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, not the least bit surprised when the soldier got a double-handful of his ass and lifted him clear off the floor as soon as the doors opened, carrying him out of the lift and through the Penthouse to the bedroom. And to Bucky’s large, comfortable nest.
Barnes had been so skittish when he’d first arrived, and Tony had set Jarvis to monitoring him – discretely, of course. Mostly so he’d know if he needed to run interference with Steve, since the blonde idiot was far too reckless with his own safety. Besides booby-trapping his quarters, Barnes had taken to sleeping under the bed. At least it was clean, and Barnes had only busted up on cleaner bot before he’d realized that they were harmless. Still, Tony had fixed the bot and reprogrammed it to only attend to Barnes’ rooms when he was in the gym or the shower or something. There had been on further incidents.
Gradually, items had started to go missing from around the Tower. Mostly Steve’s stuff, of course, but also some of Tony’s, surprisingly. It had taken him a while to get up the nerve to confront Barnes about his thieving habits, but the soldier had sheepishly admitted that with his enhanced senses, he needed to surround himself with comfortable, familiar things. It was something that Hydra hadn’t allowed, but now that he could indulge without fear of punishment, he couldn’t seem to stop. Soft blankets that scented of Steve. Fluffy towels and plush pillows. Old, worn flannels. They all made their way to Bucky’s room.
Tony had kind of understood why he’d taken Steve’s stuff – the guy had been his best friend for forever, and even know, Steve only wanted to help Barnes. But that still didn’t explain why some of his own stuff had gone missing. Until Barnes had pointed out that the whole Tower belonged to him, that the Tower was, in its own way, a fortress to protect those inside of it. And so Barnes had quickly come to associate Tony with protection and safety. Especially after spending so much time in the lab, and seeing the weapons and armor he made for the team, to aid and protect them in battle.
Even so, he’d continued to sleep under the bed, despite Steve’s best efforts to the contrary. Even Sam had tried speaking to the soldier, but it hadn’t done any good. Not until Tony had asked Barnes what he needed in order to feel safe. And Barnes, perhaps surprised that somebody was actually asking him what he needed rather than trying to tell him, had admitted that he needed to wake up not alone. It couldn’t be Steve, though, because despite Barnes fighting his conditioning, Steve was still an unfinished mission, and Barnes wasn’t willing to risk waking up as the Winter Soldier and actually killing the other man.
Tony had considered that for all of thirty seconds before suggesting that Barnes come stay in the Penthouse. Jarvis watched over Tony, and the armor was never far away, should it be needed. It had taken about a week of coaxing, but Barnes had eventually agreed, and had brought his nest up to Tony’s bedroom. It was actually a mutually beneficial arrangement, because knowing that Bucky needed somebody to be there when he woke up actually led to Tony going up to bed more often than not. Sometimes he even managed a couple hours of sleep while he was there.
And then, one night, Tony had suffered a nightmare. He couldn’t even remember what it had been about now; Afghanistan or space or having his heart ripped out or drowning. It didn’t really matter. But he had woken up screaming, and Barnes had grabbed him and brought him to the nest and curled up against him, just holding him until he’d quieted. Tony had slept undisturbed for a solid six hours, far more than he usually got these days.
After that, it had become rather commonplace for the two men to sleep in the nest that Bucky had built. The soldier had even started adding a few items from the other Avengers into the nest. The first time Tony had found one of Bruce’s slightly large button-ups buried under a pile of soft blankets, he’d laughed. And then proceeded to kiss Bucky senseless.
There had been some painful conversations made in the nest, too, the two men curled up so that they faced away from each other, as Bucky admitted to having killed his parents, as Tony admitted to having known about it for years prior. Tony had spoken haltingly of Howard and Obie and the Ten Rings, and Barnes had spoken of the war and Hydra and cryo.
Today, though, there would be no talking about the hard, painful things that each of them had been through, no confessing of sins or absolution of them. Just love and patience, and skin against skin.
Tony was squirming impatiently before his lover had even set him down. “Just…here….lemme,” he growled, helping Bucky shove both their shirts over their heads. He lifted his hips obligingly so Bucky could tug his sweatpants down and off, then sprawled out on the blankets, watching with avid delight as Bucky efficiently removed his own jeans – by virtue of tearing them with his metal hand, the zipper breaking and a button dropping down into the nest. Tony palmed it, then burrowed his hand under a bunch of pillows and blankets before releasing it, leaving the button as just another part of the nest, like the various wires and knife sheaths and leather straps that were already there. He preferred the blankets and pillows and clothing, himself, but this was Bucky’s Nest, and if he wanted to have knife sheaths and straps from Steve’s uniform – before Tony had improved it yet again, of course – then that was fine, too.
Propped up on a mound of pillows, Tony enjoyed the teasing, tickling sensation of the faux fur against his spine and sides as Bucky dropped to his knees, pinning Tony with one leg on either side of Tony’s thighs, looking down at him with dark, predatory eyes. Tony looked back just as intensely. “You know, I could get you real fur pillows,” he pointed out reasonably.
Bucky grinned. “Naw, I like the fake stuff,” he said, leaning down to drop a kiss on Tony’s upturned lips. “Nothing got killed for it.” And there was something darker in that statement, something that they’d probably talk about eventually. But not today.
Tony reached for his lover. “Fine, then,” he mock-groused. “Keep it. But I get to choose the next addition.” And hadn’t that been something of a surprise, discovering that he also enjoyed nesting? He’d always thought that the terms related only to mothers-to-be, bustling about the home preparing it for a newborn. But to his knowledge, his mother had never bothered, content to let the servants handle everything. And this was different, anyhow. This was creating a safe space and surrounding themselves with family and friends, even when those members weren’t actually present.
“Sure,” Bucky agreed. “As long as it isn’t somethin’ stupid.”
Tony just laughed, already picturing his fluffiest robe, crimson with a gold trim. It had been something of a joke-gift from Rhodey, but Tony loved the stupid thing and had worn it often when he’d been alone in the Penthouse, after his breakup with Pepper. There had been something comforting about the soft warmth of it. Kind of like Bucky’s nest, he supposed.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” he teased.
Bucky huffed in mock-annoyance, but shifted so that his body rested firmly on top of Tony’s, skin to skin. His metal fingers were tracing idle patterns on Tony’s right shoulder, sending tickling shivers down his arm. “Enough talkin’,” Bucky told him, then suited words to action and kissed him, hard and possessive.
Tony moaned happily into the kiss, squirming under Bucky’s bulk, relishing in the pressure and heat radiating off the other man. Barnes was like a furnace, making the nest warm and comfortable. He let his legs slip a bit further open, drawing Barnes further down on him. “Lube?” he murmured as Bucky trailed a line of kisses and sharp nips across his chin and down his throat. Bucky latched onto the cord of his throat and started pulling blood to the surface. His right hand fumbled around the raised, padded edge of the nest before coming up and showing Tony the small bottle of lube.
Tony hummed approvingly, his hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, resting on his head while the other man gave him a hickey to rival all hickeys. “Possessive son of a bitch, aren’t you?” he said happily.
Barnes answered him by flipping open the cap and somehow managing to get the lube on his fingers without dumping it. “Hm…dexterity,” Tony murmured.
Bucky muffled his chuckle against Tony’s throat. “Motivation,” he countered, fingers already teasing at Tony’s hole, calluses catching on the rim and making Tony gasp at the slightly rough sensation. “Not gonna mess up the nest before I get a chance to mess you up in it,” he leered.
Tony arched, pressing back and down into Bucky’s touch, hoping to entice him to go faster. Instead, Bucky pulled away entirely, and Tony let out a low growl, his eyes narrowing at the other man. Bucky just twisted away, leaning over the edge of the nest – and giving Tony a very nice view of his ass and the muscles in his back and shoulders and thighs – and grabbing something.
“Turn over?” he suggested coyly, turning his head to meet Tony’s gaze and smirking when he realized that Tony wasn’t watching his face at all.
Tony sighed, aggrieved, but did as he’d been asked, twisting over onto his front and lifting himself up on hands and knees. He generally preferred to be able to see his partners, to make sure they were enjoying themselves, but this way could be fun, too. Bucky draped himself over Tony’s back, his weight pressing down on him and forcing Tony to use both arms to hold himself up. Bucky’s cock pressed enticingly against Tony’s ass, and the genius shoved back, trying to get the other man to do something.
Bucky settled something below Tony, who glanced down and laughed at the ugly, yellowish-brown towels. He was sure there was a proper name for the color, but the fact remained that it was ugly, and therefore could be incinerated. And it would keep them from messing up the nest. Probably.
Bucky shifted again, lube-slicked fingers circling Tony’s hole again, occasionally dipping inside. Tony huffed. “I don’t have all day,” he pointed out. “I’ve got a board meeting in the morning, so if you want to get any sleep tonight, you should probably pick up the pace,” he suggested.
He got a sharp nip at the dip of his spine for his trouble, but Bucky moved them along, sliding the first finger inside and crooking it before dragging it back out slowly, letting it catch on Tony’s skin on the way out. Tony sighed in pleasure, his head dropping. He was tempted to reach down and stroke himself, but Bucky’s metal hand resting between his shoulder blades stopped that; the bastard would probably knock him off-balance if he tried it.
Bucky’s tongue was tracing random designs on Tony’s skin, teeth nipping occasionally, and Tony squirmed impatiently. “Always so impatient,” Bucky chided, but his tone was amused, and Tony just turned his head to smirk at him.
“Or maybe you’re just not that good, soldier,” he challenged. Bucky’s eyes darkened, and the next thrust of his fingers – they were up to three now, when had that happened? – pressed ruthlessly against Tony’s prostate, making him shudder and jerk forward with a grunt, sparks shooting through him as he trembled, his arms nearly collapsing under him.
“You sure about that?” Bucky teased him, pressing a gentle kiss to the dip in his spine. His other hand pressed down on Tony’s back, encouraging him to drop to the bedding as Bucky straightened up, pulling his fingers free and slicking himself up before pressing in, as careful as ever. Tony whined, but didn’t try to push back. Bucky had explained, very seriously, that he’d hurt so many people over the years as the Winter Soldier that he never wanted to hurt anyone ever again, in any way. And he was a lot to take in all at once without at least a little bit of pain, so Tony let him set the pace. To reward him, Bucky fitted his metal hand against Tony’s left hip to support himself, the fingers cool and slick against Tony’s sweat-soaked skin.
Once he was fully seated, Tony panting below him with the urge to just move, Bucky reached around and gripped him firmly, and then started moving, his thrusts pushing Tony forward into his grip and then back again, chasing after the pleasure. The pillows below him had been scattered, and Tony’s cheek was pressed to a soft fleece blanket that smelled of gunpowder and Old Spice – not the modern-day stuff, but the original. The kind that Tony imagined his grandfather might have worn, if he’d ever known the man. There was also the fresh scent that accompanied fresh laundry, but it was muted, subtle. The blanket smelled of Bucky, and Tony turned to press his nose against it, breathing in the scent of the man that was all around him, in and over and holding him secure.
Bucky was murmuring words of praise and devotion into his skin, and the words swept through Tony, making him shudder with him. He might have been begging, his words muffled by the blankets, but Bucky knew what he needed. He always knew. His grip tightened, and he slid his metal hand down, stroking the cool metal lightly up Tony’s chest and across his nipples before coming to rest lightly on the side of his throat. There was no threat there, no inherent danger, but Tony could hear the soft shifting of the metal as the tiny plates shifted, calibrating to keep from pinching, and he cried out as he came, feeling Bucky stiffen behind him, giving a few more hard thrusts before coming as well, a cry wrung from his throat even as his orgasm tore through his body.
Bucky’s weight settled heavily against Tony, who turned his head enough that he could breathe, but otherwise didn’t move, enjoying the weight and the warmth. “Mmm,” he mumbled in appreciation. Bucky answered with a grunt, and Tony smiled.
After several long moments, and before Tony got too terribly uncomfortable, Bucky pushed himself up with a grunt and staggered in the direction of the bathroom. He came back with a wash cloth and cleaned Tony up, then tossed both the wash cloth and towel across the room, in the general direction of the hamper, before settling back down on his side. Tony rolled into him, content to let his lover hold him, his face buried in the other man’s throat.
Bucky rummaged around for a moment before tugging up yet another blanket and draping it over the two sated men. “Mmm…like cuddling,” he admitted quietly.
Tony grinned, burrowing further down in the nest so that he was completely surrounded by comforting scents .
“Yeah,” he agreed, already halfway to dozing. “Me, too.”
MCU Kink Bingo #3
Finally got around to posting another one! Dear God I went silent for a while.
A Place That Looks Like Home
Link (AO3): http://archiveofourown.org/works/13447791
Square Filled: O-4, Sex in Virtual Reality
Ship: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes
Rating: Explicit
Major Tags: None
Summary: They’d discussed it in an abstract way. Well, Wanda had interfaced better with the technology and explained the options to Bucky. Wakanda leads the world in so many technologies, and virtual reality seems to be one of them. He can’t be physically freed yet, but having a third-party ‘room’ to exist in, apart from the sometimes-hell of his own mind, is something he’d taken only slightly reluctantly. Steve was going to jump in, ready or not, and Bucky trusted T’Challa plenty. It’s different thinking of it in theory and actually living it, though.
Word Count: 4,389
Created for @mcukinkbingo
MCU Kink Bingo #5
Title: A Reason Link to AO3 Square Filled: O-3: Heat Sex Ship: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Major Tags: None Summary: It’s Steve’s first heat since coming out of the ice. So why isn’t he with his mate? Word Count: 5,213 Created for @mcukinkbingo
First venture into A/B/O. Sorry?
Side note: How the hell is everyone else doing this? I’m like a nervous wreck anytime I post anything, wondering why everyone hates it. I start doing percentages in my head of hits vs kudos. I do deep breathing for crying out loud! Major props to this crazy-brave community, posting like mad and being awesome and confident about it.
Til the End
Title: Til the End
Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13342650
Square Filled: I1 - A/B/O Breeding Kink
Ship: Steve x Bucky
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Major Tags: Dub-con, borderline non-con
Summary: After the Winter Soldier recognizes Steve on the bridge, Hydra decides that they need to bind him completely. To an Alpha. Things don't go quite as planned.
Word Count: 2978
Created for @mcukinkbingo
Full Text Below:
The door opened again, and the Winter Soldier wanted to scream. He couldn’t, though, couldn’t scream. Not through the gag in his mouth, thick and choking him so that he could barely breathe, his body trying desperately to take in oxygen through his nose, even as his body writhed, covered in cum and his own slick. Blood ran down his neck, flowing sluggishly now, but it was only a matter of time before another of Hydra’s Alphas bit him again, sinking through flesh and trying to force a bond as they fucked him raw. His body was covered in cuts and bruises resulting from the Alphas’ fury at repeated failures. The Soldier didn’t know why they couldn’t bond him; he was an Omega, they were Alphas. He was a tool of Hydra. It should work. He wanted it to work. If it would only make them stop their assault.
But with each new failure, the Alphas grew more aggressive, more brutal. And the Soldier had no way to fight it, even if he could batter his way through his programming to do so. He was chained down, his legs held wide open, his body curved painfully, giving him no leverage, no strength to try and break the chains that bound him as Alpha after Alpha came and fucked and knotted and bit him savagely, occasionally giving him a sharp shake and tearing the wounds open just that much further.
And still, the Soldier’s body wouldn’t relent, the Heat forced upon him and making him half-crazed with need. He’d been silent at the beginning, when his handlers had told him that he would be bred and bonded with an Alpha of their choosing, responding only that he would comply. He’d known it to happen before, in military units, the arranged bonding of an Alpha Soldier and an Omega Support Specialist; or the forced bonding of an Alpha soldier with the Omegas of a conquered town. This was nothing; it was to be expected. He served Hydra, in whatever way they wanted him to serve.
But it wasn’t working, and no matter how much they beat him or fucked him, he didn’t know why. He wasn’t bonded. He knew that much; they had checked. And then they had made absolutely sure, tearing away everything that would have left even the smallest doubt, until he was just an Omega, a passive body waiting for a big strong Alpha to come claim him.
“We’ve got something special for you this time, Asset,” the familiar voice informed him, still harsh with suppressed rage. Brock Rumlow had been the first Alpha to try and claim him, and the first to fail. He seemed to think that it was the Soldier’s fault, that the Asset had done something to keep the bond from working. But he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. The Soldier would comply. He had to.
“Well?” Rumlow prompted, but he wasn’t speaking to the Soldier now, and the Soldier whined, more slick spilling from his raw, swollen hole and sliding down his thighs to join the mess below him.
“You couldn’t even clean him up first?” a voice demanded, filled with anger and a sort of possessive, dominating edge that the Soldier recognized. He knew that voice, and his body jerked in its restraints. He wanted to yell at the owner of that voice, to tell them to go away, to get out while they could.
“Aw, look at it,” Rumlow laughed. “If you want to try and clean that mess up, be our guest. It’s stubborn, refuses to be bred like a good little Omega. If you’re lucky, it won’t kill you.” Another laugh, and then the thud of the door as Rumlow left, leaving the Soldier alone with the new Alpha.
“Dammit,” the Alpha muttered, pheromones quickly filling the room. The Soldier scented the air, surprised that this Alpha could overpower the scent of so many others. How had Hydra gotten hold of an S-Class Alpha?
Cold hands touched the Soldier’s flanks, and the Soldier jerked, unable to keep himself from trying to pull away even as more slick slipped out of him, reacting to the scent of Alpha. “Fucking Hydra trash,” the voice muttered darkly, too low for the cameras to pick up on, but the Soldier heard it, registered its meaning even as the Alpha retreated a ways. The Alpha wasn’t Hydra. He didn’t serve Hydra. He shouldn’t be here!
The Soldier let out a warning growl; I know what you are, you’re not one of us, you’re an imposter!
The Alpha snarled back. I am an Alpha. You will respect me! The Soldier subsided; the Alpha was correct. Even if he wasn’t a member of the organization, Hydra had brought this Alpha here. Perhaps he was affiliated with them somehow? The Soldier didn’t know what sort of outside contacts Hydra had, but it would make sense that they would have access to other Alphas. And if a bonding worked, they could always keep the Alpha here, could make him part of Hydra.
The Asset whined; he didn’t want this Alpha to become part of Hydra. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was for the same reason that he seemed so familiar. Maybe the Soldier knew him from somewhere.
“Shh, Bucky, it’s all right,” the voice soothed, and the Soldier shuddered. Bucky….who the hell was Bucky? Was he Bucky? He rolled the name around in his head for a while, only half paying attention to the Alpha who was at the door, demanding something in a low, angry voice. The name was familiar. Maybe he was Bucky. Or had been, in a previous lifetime. He didn’t know.
The pheromones grew stronger again as the Alpha approached him, and this time, when he touched him, it was with a cold cloth, rough against his abraded skin. “Couldn’t even manage to find warm water, I suppose,” the Alpha muttered, and Bucky realized that the Alpha was trying to clean him up, trying to erase the other Alphas from his skin. He didn’t protest when the Alpha pressed a little too hard against a few bruises, or scraped against a raw cut. “Sorry. Sorry,” the Alpha murmured. “Just a bit more.” Hands were at his throat, cleaning away the blood from the bite marks the other Alphas had left.
“Hah. They tried real hard, didn’t they?” the sarcasm was thick and heavy, the tone carrying the hint of an accent. Brooklyn? The Soldier remembered that voice, it made him think of Brooklyn. But why?
“Mmee?” he said, his voice strangled through the gag.
“Shh, Buck,” the voice murmured again, low and right next to his ear, presumably so Hydra couldn’t see him. “We don’t have much time, the reversal won’t work for much longer. I’m sorry about this, but we’ve got to get you out of here. Do you understand?” A hand was pressed against the back of his neck, fingers tangled in his long hair. To anybody watching the cameras, it would look as if the Alpha was pressing on his neck, forcing him to drop his head lower in submission.
The Soldier still didn’t understand, but he was starting to get an idea of what the Alpha wanted. He whined through the gag, his body shivering under the light pressure of that hand, of the scent of Alpha. But more than that, something inside of him was clamoring for attention, telling him that this would work, that it had to work. He gave a small nod of consent, as much as he was able with his restricted movements. He was sure they would’ve put a leash on him if they hadn’t needed access to his neck and throat.
“Good boy,” the Alpha murmured, his scent growing impossibly stronger with his arousal. “You’re so pretty, gonna look so good carrying our pups, yeah?” he said, the blunt head of his cock already pressing against the Soldier’s ass, slick easing the way as he shoved inside. “Gonna take you home and protect you and the pups, gonna have a family of our own,” he crooned, one hand fisting in the Soldier’s hair, forcing his head back, his back arching uncomfortably as the Alpha fucked relentlessly into him, larger than the Soldier might have anticipated based on the Alpha’s smaller stature.
He moaned in pain and agreement, tears tracking down his face as sharp fingers dug into his side, nails leaving crescent marks in their wake. The Alpha’s scent filled his nose, made him keen and shudder with wanting, with something almost like hope, if the Soldier ever allowed himself to feel anything as useless as hope. Please, please, please. Alpha. He wanted to beg, to whine and curse and scream and plead, but he could do none of that, could only force air into his lungs, could only take what the Alpha was giving him.
The Alpha was ruthless in his search for release, hitting the Soldier’s prostate on every thrust because of his girth rather than any actual attempt to give the Omega pleasure. “Gonna bond with you, Buck, gonna be your mate.” The Soldier grunted, his cock swelling under the assault, despite the fact that he was exhausted and hurting and confused. “Good boy,” the Alpha praised. “My god, Buck, do you even know what you look like, all spread out and waitin’ for me?”
The Soldier hadn’t been waiting for him, hadn’t been waiting for anybody in particular, but the thought obviously pleased the Alpha, judging by the possessive satisfaction in his voice. The Soldier pushed back as much as he could, groaning when the Alpha slid just that much deeper. “Oh, Bucky, yes,” the Alpha sighed, his pace increasing. “So pretty, all spread out and leaking, just waiting to be bred, to be claimed. And they tried, huh? Tried to breed you, to bond you, to fill you with their pups. But it didn’t work, it couldn’t. Because even like this, you remember me. You remember our promise.”
The Alpha froze, shuddered, then shoved forward rapidly, once, twice, three times and he was coming, shoving himself as deep as he could go, so that his knot pushed past the Soldier’s rim, locking inside of him as the Alpha swelled. Breath against his neck, and the Soldier knew what was coming, was ready for it.
“’Til the end of the line, pal,” the Alpha said, and the Soldier wailed through the gag as the Alpha bit him, as memories flooded through him. The man on the bridge, but smaller, like the Soldier remembered him. A blonde, scrawny Alpha with fire in his eyes and blood on his teeth, angry at the world for making him such a weak Alpha, for making him unwanted.
Mostly unwanted, the Soldier acknowledged as he felt the first stirrings of a successful bond taking root, the Alpha’s scent changing even as his own did, making them compatible to each other, souring their scents for anybody outside of the two of them and their pack. He settled into his bonds, exhausted, ignoring the sounds coming from outside – they weren’t important.
“Cavalry’s here,” the Alpha – Steve – muttered, his nose pressed against the Soldier’s throat. “Gonna get you out of here. Are you with me, Bucky?”
The Soldier – no, Bucky, he was Bucky Barnes – huffed through his gag. “Oh, sorry!” Steve apologized, reaching forward to remove the gag, making them both groan as his knot shifted inside of Bucky. “Stark is never gonna let me here the end of this,” Steve sighed.
Bucky worked the ache out of his mouth and jaw as he came back to himself, the bond helping to re-establish a baseline, helping him to break Hydra’s hold over him. No doubt, if a Hydra Alpha had been successful, he’d still be the Soldier, loyal to his Alpha, his handler, and thereby loyal to Hydra through affiliation. But Steve Rogers, little guy from Brooklyn, wasn’t Hydra. He was a fucking Avenger.
Bucky groaned. “Gonna make me an Avenger, Stevie?” he rasped, his throat dry and sore.
Steve chuckled, and Bucky whined, more slick sliding out around Steve’s cock and down his thighs as the pleasure sparked through him. “Stop that,” he complained.
“Sorry,” Steve murmured. The sound of explosions and screams could be heard outside, followed by the roar of some large beast. “As soon as I can, I’m gonna get you outta here,” Steve promised. “You can’t be comfortable.”
Bucky snorted. “What’s comfort gotta do with anythin’?” he asked derisively. He’d been in worse positions before as the Soldier, this was nothing. He’d be fine until his stupid Alpha’s stupid knot deflated enough for the lug to pull free. Speaking of size, he narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were bigger,” he said at last.
Steve’s voice was tired when he answered. “I was. Am,” he corrected. “But Tony reversed the serum temporarily. Long enough to get me in here. The hard part was convincing Hydra that I could do what they couldn’t, and that I sympathized with them.” He sounded positively disgusted, and Bucky felt his lips twitch up in an unfamiliar expression.
“Yeah, well, dunno how you convinced them you were anythin’ but you,” Bucky said, “but I’m grateful for it. And I’m gonna smack the shit outta you when we get outta here,” he threatened.
Steve shifted with a quiet, “Oh,” and Bucky prepared to have him pull away, but instead, he felt the knot inside of him grow impossibly bigger. The hands that had been on his waist grew, as well, and it was the weirdest sensation to feel the little guy revert back to the larger Captain America that Bucky cried out, his body clenching involuntarily against the cock inside of him, pressed firmly against his prostate.
“No,” he said faintly, realizing what had happened. The serum reversal had worn off, and now Captain America was knotted inside the Winter Soldier in the middle of a fucking Hydra compound. “You idiot,” he growled.
Steve reacted by shoving forward, slipping into him impossibly further, and Bucky whined, realizing that the Captain was ready for round two. The knot slowly deflated, and a rush of slick slid out, Bucky’s Omega scent rising to meet Steve’s Alpha one. “Oh, Buck,” Steve sighed, thrusting inside him, both of them ignoring the chaos happening right outside. “You’re perfect, you can take it. Take everything.”
Bucky nodded frantically. “Yes, Alpha,” he agreed. “Take everything. Anything,” he promised, pushing back as best he could.
Steve sped back up with a groan. “Gonna breed you again,” he growled. “And when we get home, gonna lock ourselves on my floor and fuck you stupid. Gonna fuck you right through your heat, breed you like a proper Omega.”
Bucky was whining, embarrassment and desire raging through him, twisting up inside his stomach and chest and brain, whirling in a cacophony of sensations. “Yes, Alpha,” he replied. “Please, please, please. Breed me. Fill me with your pups. Gonna be such a good Omega.”
Once the haze had worn off, they’d probably actually need to have a talk about what each of them expected from each other, but right now? Right now, all Bucky cared about was pleasing his Alpha, was taking everything his Alpha had to give him, giving his Alpha everything he needed. “Please, Alpha,” he whined, baring his throat in an obvious plea.
Steve growled, his thrusts growing more erratic. He pulled out entirely, wrenching himself free as he came, cum splattering along Bucky’s ass and up his spine, dripping down his thighs to join the mess of slick and cum already there. Teeth locked on his throat, and Bucky screamed out his own orgasm, his vision whiting out, the Heat seeping from his skin.
When he came to, he realized they were moving. He was wrapped in a blanket – cape? – and held in Captain America’s arms. He looked up into a determined face, and Steve caught his gaze and gave him a quick, reassuring smile. “You with us, pal?” he asked.
Bucky blinked, then nodded. “Yes. Put me down,” he insisted, hearing approaching footsteps. Steve did as he’d requested, and Bucky realized that there were others around them.
“Oh, man, I did not need to see that,” a scruffy-looking blonde complained, knocking an arrow into a crossbow before sending it straight through the heart of one of the approaching soldiers. The next arrow went through the eye of another man. Hawkeye, then, the Avengers’ archer.
A lithe redhead slipped by him, dancing on light feet as she took down a handful of enemy combatants in moments. “Oh, I don’t know,” he purred. “He is a super soldier.”
Steve’s shield arced above her head, taking out half a dozen soldiers before pinging against the wall and flying back into Steve’s hands. “Enough talk!” he snapped. “Move!”
“Delivery for Murder-Bot there!” a mechanical voice said, and Bucky snarled as a red and gold suit of armor flew past, dropping a pair of sweatpants and a handful of weapons at Bucky’s feet.
“You must be a Stark,” he observed, slipping on the pants and grimacing at the feel of cum and slick sticking to the fabric. Still, it was better than running around a Hydra base completely naked, and he picked up the weapons gratefully. A couple of knifes that he handed to Steve, and a set of handguns with extended cartridges. They weren’t Hydra-issue weapons.
“Oh, look at the genius,” Stark muttered sarcastically. There was a roar further down the corridor, and the walls shook around them. Stark cursed, then took off towards the sound of the noise. The rest of the Avengers followed, and Bucky? Well, he followed his Alpha. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight, that’s who he followed.
Besides, Steve still owed him a proper breeding.
MCU Kink Bingo #2
I messed with my Tumblr because I know nothing but like to pretend I do, so now I’m reposting my stuff JUST IN CASE.
Title: Puerta Entre de la Vida y Muerte (Gate Between the Living and the Dead)
Link
Square Filled: I-4, Trope: Holiday Fic
Ship: Steve Rogers / Bucky Barnes
Rating: T
Major Tags: Canonical Character Death
Summary: Steve Rogers is on a cross-country trip when he stops in a small, southwestern town. Sometimes what you're looking for isn't so hard to find.
Word Count: 3,642
Created for @mcukinkbingo
