#black cloak envoy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buckets-and-trees · 3 months ago

Text

Chosen, Part 7: Offering

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: You have arrived at the altar, it is time for the offering, and you finally come face to face with James Buchanan Barnes.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting, sleeping drugs

CHAPTER Content Warnings: cult elements - human offering for a ritual; light smut: intimate touching, teasing, breastplay, cum swapping/tasting, consent is mildly dubious; public nudity/on display for others; exhibitionism; herbal enhancement/explanation of herbal enhancement in the system

Notes: You might get some answers to some questions in this part... but I make no promises!

Previous: Procession | Series List

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

In your final approach to the altar, you notice someone standing behind it, shrouded in shadows.

As you reach the dais, he steps forward into the moonlight. Your breath catches in your throat as you take him in.

Standing tall and commanding attention, his powerful build is cloaked in flowing black robes that only enhance the sense of strength emanating from him. He’s the only one in black. His longer, dark hair frames a face that can only be described as painfully handsome, with chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, covered with rugged stubble. But it's his eyes that truly captivate you. Piercing blue orbs locked onto yours, sending an electric current through your body. With his intense gaze, he seems to see right through you, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence.

This is James Buchanan Barnes, the enigmatic founder you've heard so many whispers of and have so many questions about.

James' eyes never leave yours, but as you draw closer, you notice something glinting behind him in the moonlight. Just over his left shoulder, there’s a gleam of blue-ish black that pulls your focus for a brief instant, eyes departing from his, before going right back. He tilts his chin slightly, and you sense he’s interpreting your momentary distraction.

The stone altar, though simple, is intimidating by virtue of its purpose. It sits on a raised dais, bathed in moonlight. You start to see that the dais and altar are both adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with what looks like moonstone. Candles flicker around its base, casting dancing light and shadows that intermingle with the glowing orbs Steve and others have brought with them.

Steve and Natasha guide you to stand at the foot of the dais before the altar, facing James. The circle of masked figures presses closer behind you, their soft humming growing in intensity, the air thick with anticipation.

James raises his hands, and silence falls over the gathering.

“Welcome,” he announces simply. His voice is deep and resonant, carrying easily through the clearing as he commands the attention of everyone assembled. His eyes sweep meaningfully over everyone, before they lock back on you, and the energy in your body surges again. You wonder if everyone else is so affected by his stare.

He’s nothing short of captivating.

"Step forward," he commands softly, eyes fixed only on you.

Steve and Natasha gently direct you to stand before the altar. Your legs feel timid as you ascend the few steps to the dais. As you draw closer, so does he, his robes trailing behind him. He looks down at you, his intense gaze never waver, and you can see his eyes more clearly - a swirling mix of blue and gray that seems to shift in the moonlight.

"Do you understand why you are here?"

You give a single, slow nod, not ready to test your voice in this moment.

"You have been brought here by my envoys to participate in an ancient ritual," he continues.

“Envoys,” he says, briefly looking past you to Steve and Natasha, “you may present this human oblation.”

Natasha and Steve swiftly ascend the steps behind you, coming to stand on either side of you once more.

“We bring this soul as an offering for the ritual,” Steve says, loud enough for everyone in the clearing to hear, “an offering to celebrate your power and glory, an offering to further your noble pursuit to reclaim your destiny.”

The two then move with practiced grace, their hands reaching for the ties of your cloak, and together they loosen it.

“She has been chosen and prepared with diligent care,” Natasha speaks, “and we, the appointed envoys among your devotees, present her not only as an offering for the traditional ritual of this full moon, but believe her a worthy oblation for the rites of elim, at your discretion.”

As they speak, a knot forms in your stomach, tightening with each word, your trepidation flaring back up.

In a swift motion, they pull the cloak away from your shoulders, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

But now in only the delicate chemise, it’s not the rest of the crowd assembled that you worry about seeing you like this, only him.

Your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes roam over you, especially knowing there's nothing underneath the midnight blue silk and lace, and the slits feel dangerously higher than they did before. His gaze lingers over the curves of your body, and you swear a small smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“What say those assembled? Could she be elim?”

That word again - elim.

Behind you there are murmurs of assent.

“Then place your oblation on the altar,” he says.

Your envoys step closer. Natasha leans in close and lightly touches your elbow. “Step out of your sandals,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve extends his hand to help you onto the immaculate surface of the table. The surface is smooth and cool to the touch. It’s a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with intricate designs of gold and moonstone adorning its surface. It gleams in the bright light of the full moon, and you feel a sense of awe wash over you as you climb up onto its surface. Instinctively, you sense that should kneel and sit back on your heels. You fold your hands softly in your lap, then lift your gaze once again to the founder.

“Are there eleven among you who will seal their witness on her behalf?”

Your pulse races.

What does that mean?

Why eleven?

And what does it entail?

But grace and confidence, Natasha steps forward and says, “I present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.” Tenderly, she places a finger below your chin and gently turns your head towards hers. Her warm lips press against your right cheek in a soft, lingering kiss. The moment feels sacred and powerful, as if the entire world has stopped to bear witness to this act. You can feel the weight of her act, solidifying your journey down this unknown path.

Steve moves to your other side as Natasha steps back. Steve takes a deep breath and says, “I, too, present this offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim,” before turning your head and leaning in to press a his kiss to your left cheek. His lips feel slightly chapped against your skin, and you can smell the mint of his breath as he pulls away.

Then others step forward, one by one, alternating between the right or left cheek - right for the women, left for the men, but their words are slightly different, each of them saying, “I affirm the offering and seal my witness for her ascent to elim.”

Yelena, Thor, Sam, Bruce, Wanda, Scott… These are all people you met at some point through this process.

Their witnessing vows happen steadily, without pause, but you can’t stave off the next worry that enters your mind…

What if eleven people don’t seal their witness?

As the witnessing continues, you find yourself overwhelmed by the sensations and emotions coursing through you. Each kiss, though chaste, feels intensely intimate in this charged atmosphere. The warmth of their lips against your skin, the softness of some and the roughness of others, touches on your arm or shoulder or back as they seal their witness, the subtle scents of each person as they lean in close - it all blends together in a heady mix that leaves you dizzy.

The one thing you grasp onto is counting the witnesses, and after the eleventh, you hold your breath, and look back to James.

During the witnessing, you realize, Steve and Natasha have taken up positions at James' sides. Steve stands to his right, his posture straight and proud, while Natasha flanks his left, her stance graceful yet alert. They form a striking trio, their energy palpable even from where you kneel on the altar. The moonlight and the orbs cast an ethereal glow around the trio, making them appear almost otherworldly.

The clearing has fallen into an expectant hush, the only sounds the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.

James steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze is relentless, and you feel heat rise up your neck. He reaches out, his hand hovering just above your cheek where the last witness sealed their kiss. You can feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

"The witnesses have spoken," he speaks, his voice low and resonant. "You have been deemed worthy of the rites of elim."

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand finally makes contact with your skin. His touch is electric, sending sparks coursing through your body. You lean into it instinctively, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

"Do you accept this honor?" he asks, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you reply, "Yes."

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. "Then let us truly begin."

He draws away from you and begins to circle the altar, and begins to speak, louder for everyone assembled to hear every word. “You kneel on this alter, chosen and prepared, deemed worthy by eleven witnesses of my devotees.”

His voice is rich and warm and alluring. There are echoes of thoughts you think you should be having, wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into, whether or not you’ll be safe - or alive - come sunrise, what the ritual will entail - but they’re all so muted and fleeting, unable to compete with his oratory prowess.

“But now it is now mine to determine whether you are to be elim or only an offering. Regardless of my judgement, the ritual demands your body as a willing sacrifice to me in the light of the full moon. As an offering I will consume energy from your pleasure and then send you away with no memory of this night; but if I deem you to be worthy to the elevation of elim, you will be bound to me for eternity.”

He’s circled you twice while he spoke, and stands in front of you now.

“Are you ready?”

He’s larger than most men, his stature tall, shoulders broad, chest colossal, and arms and what you can see of his legs thick with corded muscle. He would be dangerous given his mere physical presence, but coupled with his enigmatic charisma, and the power radiating off him? Impossible, unthinkable to resist.

And a growing part of you does not want to.

You nod.

He leans forward, placing his palms on the altar, coming closer to you. “Spread your legs for me,” he commands.

You bite your lip, but slowly, you obey.

As you part your knees, the chemise slides up your thighs, revealing more of your soft skin to James' intense gaze. His eyes flicker down, taking in the sight of you, before locking back onto your face. A small, pleased smile plays at his lips.

"Good," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that shoots heat through your veins.

Without breaking eye contact, James reaches out and trails his fingers along the inside of your thigh. His touch is feather-light, barely there, but it leaves a trail of fire in its wake. You can't help the small gasp that escapes your lips.

"Sensitive," he observes, his smile widening slightly. "That's very good."

His hand continues its journey upward, pushing the chemise higher as he goes. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, his fingers caressing the crease at the juncture of your hip, but not going to the spot where you’re aching to be touched, and you whimper.

He chuckles. “Not yet.”

James' fingers continue to tease along your inner thighs, never reaching where you desperately want him to. The anticipation builds with each caress, and your body starts to tremble. You struggle to keep still, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Patience," he murmurs, his voice low and hypnotic. "We have a little time yet before the full moon reaches its apex."

He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he speaks, and these words are only for you. "Tell me, do you want this? Do you want me?"

The heat of his breath against your skin makes you weak. You can only manage a breathy "Yes" in response.

James pulls back slightly, his piercing gaze locking with yours once more. There's a hunger in his eyes that makes your heart race. Slowly, deliberately, he brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“Put your hand between your legs and show us all what’s there. I can smell it,” he assures you, “but I want everyone to see how ripe you are with desire - especially you.”

Your pulse quickens at his instruction. Though part of you feels exposed and vulnerable, another part thrills at the idea of obeying him, of showing him just how affected you are. With trembling fingers, you reach down between your legs.

The moment your fingers make contact with your slick folds, a soft moan escapes your lips. You're wetter than you realized, your arousal coating your fingers as you part your labia. The cool night air hits your exposed flesh, making you shiver.

James' eyes darken as he watches you, his gaze intense and hungry. "That's it," he murmurs approvingly. "Show me how ready you are."

With trembling fingers, you raise your hand, presenting it to him. The assembled crowd murmurs in appreciation, but you barely notice them. Your focus is entirely on James, on the way his eyes devour you. He catches your wrist gently but firmly, bringing your fingers to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting your essence, and a jolt of electricity courses through you.

"Exquisite," he murmurs, releasing your wrist. “Now taste yourself.”

Your heart races as you bring your fingers to your lips, hesitating for just a moment before parting them. The scent of your own arousal fills your nostrils, musky and sweet. Slowly, you extend your tongue, tasting yourself. The flavor blooms across your taste buds - tangy, slightly salty, with an underlying sweetness that surprises you. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation as you suck your fingers clean.

“Have you tasted yourself before?” he asks, and you give a small nod. “But tonight your nectar tastes different, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Your system has taken well to the essence of the Luna’s Tears,” he explains, tracing one of the blooms in your flower crown. “It was in your water at lunch, in your tea, in the oils of your bath.”

Your jaw drops slightly, a rush of thoughts barraging your mind at this revelation.

“It soothes and primes those offered up for the ritual. But your body has become attuned to it in a potency we’ve never seen before. I’ve smelled it in the pheromones of others, but never in the slick dripping from a cunt.”

James's eyes burn with intensity as he continues, his voice low and husky. "Your body craves it now. Craves me. The Luna's Tears have awakened something primal within you."

You feel a rush of heat course through your body at his words. Part of you wants to deny it, to resist this pull, but you can't. Your body is humming with need, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

"Now, let's see just how responsive you've become," he says, his voice low and commanding.

James' hand descends to your chest. His touch is feather-light at first, tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone. Then, with agonizing slowness, he trails his fingers down to the swell of your breasts. The thin silk of your chemise does little to dull the sensation of his calloused fingertips against your soft skin.

James' hand cups the gentle curve of your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the thin fabric. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Let's see how you react to this."

With a swift motion, he pulls down the top of your chemise, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples harden instantly, and you shiver, from the chill, from knowing you’re exposed for many in the clearing to see, but most of all from the intensity of James' gaze.

He leans in, his breath hot against your skin, and takes one nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his tongue contrasts sharply with the cool air, and you gasp at the sensation. His teeth graze lightly over the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

Suddenly James retreats, and you can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment. He steps back, his eyes still locked on yours, and begins to slowly undo the fastenings of his robe. Your breath catches as more of his sculpted chest is revealed with each movement.

“True and noble followers,” he says, tone loud and resonant, “my judgement aligns with those who bore witness, and she will be elevated to elim.”

The few dozen around you begin to hum and murmur again, the words of a song in an ancient tongue.

You bite your lip, and he inclines his head, scrutinizing you.

“A question burns in your mind,” he assesses. “Ask it.”

You wonder if he can he read your mind by some supernatural power, or if has he learned to read you already. You put all your effort into keeping your voice even as the the words, “What is elim?” fall from your mouth.

"Oh, sweet girl," James says, his voice a low, rich timbre that sends a shiver down your spine. "Elim is a sacred bond, an eternal connection between myself and a chosen few. It's a destiny reserved for those who prove themselves worthy, those whose essence resonates with mine in a way that transcends the physical realm."

As he speaks, the others continue their song, and he continues to disrobe, revealing more of his chiseled physique. Your eyes are drawn to the play of muscles under his skin, the way the moonlight casts shadows across his broad chest and defined abdomen.

"Through this ritual, you will become more than just an offering," he continues. "You will be transformed, elevated to a higher state of being. Your body, your mind, your very soul will be attuned to me in ways you cannot yet comprehend."

The robe falls away completely now, pooling at his feet. He stands for another moment, the song of his followers crescendoing, and when they reach the climax of the refrain, he claps his hands together, there’s a streak of lightning across the sky, and the blue light of the orbs extinguishes completely. A hush falls over the clearing, now bathed only in the bright moonlight and the scattered groups of candles around the dais.

“It is time,” he proclaims, extending his arms wide, and your heart truly stops as he finally reveals himself.