#The Asset and his Handler | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mournthebird · 1 month ago

Text

Apricot Toast.

summary: Soldat doesn't understand care can be without price.

a/n: This 'chapter' includes brief scenes of active SA as well as heavily implied SA acts so be warned. Flashback scenes with more detailed torture & slightly suggestive scene with reader because he's confused :( It also ended up being a bit longer to make up for the last few shorter chapters. I'll be posting all of this on my A03 in case it gets too much for Tumblr. I hope you enjoy even though its a little more sad.

Italicized parts are flashbacks. Unedited. ;; wc: 6.8k

There were a lot of things that he endured. A lot of things he had to relearn and break free from.

One thing had him by a vice.

Kindness wasn't free. Food wasn't free. Neither was water. Or blankets. Or being spared a hit.

You had yet to ask him, but he knew you'd eventually expect it. Handlers never asked for it, they just did it. Some expected it.

His mind raced with thoughts, when should he do it? Should he just go up to you and begin? Or should he wait for your command to do so? He wasn't sure, every handler was different. Each one liked him to behave and act in conflicting ways, it always made the other angry. Sometimes he thought they did it on purpose just to have an excuse to beat him.

You were making breakfast, taking care to prepare something nourishing and comforting for the morning meal. His eating habits had been showing marked improvement lately, gradually expanding beyond the previous limitations that had restricted his diet to only three specific items. You cooked the items and hummed to yourself, a perfectly cooked egg, a well-seasoned sausage patty, and melted cheese - all coming together between the toasted halves of a lightly buttered English muffin.

It honestly sounded delicious, and you were craving it the second you woke up.

As you continued your preparations at the stovetop, he made his way into the kitchen with quiet steps, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, carrying him forward despite apparent fatigue.

Your focus remained entirely on the stove, your attention so thoroughly absorbed in the preparation of the meal that you failed to notice his presence initially as he positioned himself a few feet behind where you worked.

He swallowed.

"Get down," its handler shoved it roughly to the floor, causing its knees to collide painfully with the hardwood surface. It fought back the natural instinct to wince or show any sign of discomfort, instead raising its gaze cautiously to meet its handler's eyes. The handler's demeanor radiated an aura of anger this morning, more intense than usual.

The aroma of freshly prepared food wafted through the air, drawing the asset involuntarily from its designated corner. The standard-issue nutrient bags it was given to eat contained nothing but bland, lifeless substance.

The daily portions of pale, creamy mush possessed neither taste nor texture, just a starchy consistency that served only to fill its stomach. Though, some days it was lucky to get that and not an IV of nutrients instead, leaving its belly to grumble and growl desperately. It yearned for something with actual flavor, real sustenance.

But such privileges as real food had to be earned through compliance and good behavior, a fact that had been deeply ingrained in its consciousness. It understood that only through proving its worth to its handlers would it ever be granted access to anything beyond its basic provisions.

"You want food? Earn it." The handler's voice cut through the silence as he stood motionless, arms crossed firmly against his chest while scrutinizing the asset with calculating eyes. The threat hung heavy in the air - one slight misstep, one wrong twitch, and the familiar sharp sting of a calloused hand would strike its tender cheeks with practiced precision.

The hot, searing burn of electricity would shoot mercilessly through its neck, coursing down along its flesh shoulder like liquid fire before being abruptly halted by the cold, unnatural presence of foreign metal on the other side.

It fought to maintain perfect stillness, muscles trembling with the effort to show no reaction as its handler turned the burner to low and began to unclasp the heavy leather belt buckle.

It ignored how its mouth began to automatically salivate.

"Soldat?"

Your voice gently pierced through the thick fog of his consciousness as he blinked slowly, struggling to clear the distant, haunting glaze from his eyes. He remained caught in the web of memories he desperately wanted to shed, yet found himself unable to access the precious few recollections he yearned to preserve, leaving him suspended in an uncomfortable limbo between remembering and forgetting.

The things he wanted to forget remained. The ones he wished to remember were just out of reach.

He turned his attention to you with an expression devoid of any discernible emotion, his vacant gaze fixed upon your movements as you busied yourself with food preparation in the kitchen.

"I figured we could try introducing more solid foods into your diet. The doctor's last report shows you are progressing steadily, and this food should be gentle enough on your digestive system. We can have you eat them separately to start, jumping straight into a complete sandwich might be a bit too overwhelming for your body." You had kept track of his progress closely and knew he was leaning towards actually eating something instead of taking nutrient treatments and plain crackers and bread.

The soldier remained motionless, observing intently for several long minutes as new aromas wafted through the air - fresh eggs and bacon sizzling softly in the pan, their familiar domestic sounds filling the kitchen. It was comforting in a weird way.

As the smells hit his nose, his body betrayed him with a sudden, involuntary gag.

Its handler grunted with obvious disdain, practically spitting on its face while sneering at its sloppy, shiny lips and chin, droplets of saliva landing uncomfortably close to its nostrils. The handler's weathered face twisted into an expression of disgust as he observed its condition. "Thought we got rid of that...oh well. I suppose that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders now, hm? Can't have the others seeing such weakness."

It doesn't like how its lungs burn with increasing intensity or how terribly constricted its throat feels, the muscles tightening painfully with each passing second.

"You ain't comin' up for air until that reflex is completely gone. Better learn quick, or we'll be here all day," the handler's voice carried a cruel note of satisfaction.

The soldier swallowed thickly, his mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as he desperately tried to manage the conditioned response his body gave to the memories. His brow furrowed deeply with visible discomfort, eyes meeting yours with a subtle look of distress as he continued to swallow repeatedly, fighting against the involuntary reaction.

His stomach rolled unpleasantly within him, and he could feel the telltale burning sensation of acid creeping up his esophagus, threatening to make the situation even more uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" You asked with genuine concern, taking a step in his direction as you tried to figure out what was wrong. Maybe he had an aversion to eggs that you hadn't known about.

"I can make something else...it's not a problem," you offered reassuringly, wanting to ease his obvious discomfort. You wondered if the smell was triggering his response. You had to admit that eggs weren't exactly the most appealing when it came to their smell, no matter how they were dealt with.

He took an unsteady step backward, his head shaking in a slow, deliberate motion as realization dawned. You weren't him - that fact resonated clearly in his mind. You weren't his handler, the one who had dominated his existence for so long.

You weren't the man whose systematic abuse had warped his perception of normalcy, the one who had conditioned him to accept having his hair violently yanked and his face brutally beaten as just another unremarkable day in his life.

You weren't the man who had subjected him to repeated violations at the hands of various agents, each taking their turn whenever they pleased, leaving him with lingering physical and psychological trauma that made the current absence of that familiar agony in his rectum feel strangely disorienting.

You weren’t him.

The absence of any implements of torture or restraint in your hands provided a small measure of comfort, though his racing thoughts struggled to fully process this gentler reality. It was somewhat reassuring, he had to admit, that there were no tools of torment present - no leather straps, no metal bars, nothing between your legs that could be forced down his throat until he choked and gasped for air.

"How about we try something gentler for your taste buds - maybe some toast with jam? I have grape, apricot, or strawberry," you suggested carefully, moving toward the refrigerator to retrieve the jars. You carried a note of gentle concern as you sought to salvage the strange situation. It worried you how openly he was displaying his distress; typically, getting any emotional response from him was like trying to pry open a sealed vault.

You returned your focus to the simple task at hand, selecting two pristine slices of bread and placing them into the toaster. As Soldat observed your actions, a creeping sense of guilt began to gnaw at him.

In his mind, this felt like some form of punishment - after all your effort to prepare a proper breakfast, he was now being offered merely toast? The thought that his involuntary gagging had somehow disappointed or offended you weighed heavily on his conscience. Were you going to make him eat less tasty food and punish him for wasting your time in the kitchen? He didn’t mean to come across as being ungrateful. He didn’t know why he gagged.

He didn't mean to.

He really didn't.

It wasn't you.

"Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he muttered out, his voice barely audible and scratchy from prolonged disuse, the words catching in his throat like rough sandpaper. Your head instinctively turned to respond to his unexpected words, completely taken aback by the fact he spoke. But before you could form any words, the sharp, hollow sound of his knees colliding with the wood floor cut through the air and stopped you mid-thought.

The impact of his knees against the hard surface was so forceful that you couldn't help but wince, yet he showed absolutely no reaction to what must have been a painful collision. It was as if this position of supplication was something his body had memorized through countless repetitions. His hands found their way to your legs, fingers spreading across your thighs as he established his grip - not violently or painfully, but with just enough pressure to make it clear that any attempt to step away would be met with resistance.

"Простите меня. Я съем то, что ты приготовил [Forgive me. I will eat what you prepared]," he managed to say, briefly lifting his gaze to meet yours in a moment before his eyes dropped back down to the floor in a gesture of submission.

You tried desperately not to react to the cold of his metal hand, but the goosebumps erupting on your skin was a good indicator.

You remained motionless, not sure how to proceed as his firm grip maintained its hold on your thighs, the pressure neither increasing nor decreasing. Your eyes were fixed downward, observing his form as intermittent tremors passed through his broad shoulders. His consciousness seemed trapped with thoughts simultaneously racing at lightning speed yet yielding no coherent message he could decipher.

The overwhelming feeling washing over his body made him feel disoriented, the glaze that coated his eyes gave him that familiar distant and unstable look the soldier had for decades.

Soldat’s hands began moving up along your legs, eventually finding their way to your waistband. His fingers quickly hooked themselves into the fabric and began to pull downward. The movements in his mind were automatic, like he were being told what to do without an order.

A mechanical, involuntary habit that guided him.

Your hands shot out to grasp your shorts, halting their movement as you stammered in shock, "Soldat! What are you doing-"

The soldier's focus was glued to you as he desperately attempted to remove your shorts, his jerky movements filled with an intense urgency. When he couldn't pull them down because your hands held them in place, he pressed his face against your thigh, inches from your core as a plaintive whine escaped his throat. His gaze lifted to meet yours, eyes wide and pleading, filled with an unmistakable look of begging that made your breath catch.

Though you managed to prevent your shorts from being removed, his firm grip on your legs remained unyielding, fingers pressing into your skin with careful restraint. His entire demeanor radiated an overwhelming sense of desperation, every movement and sound conveying his intense need for something.

"Пожалуйста [Please]..." His desperate whines filled your ears, the sound raw and needy as he continued to frantically paw at your shorts. His actions grew increasingly bold and insistent with each passing moment, his face pressing more firmly against your crotch. The heat of his ragged breath seeped through the thin layer of your underwear, causing your entire body to jolt upward at the intense sensation.

Soldat's movements became more demanding, yet still maintained a careful restraint that belied his strength. Each exhale against the fabric sent shivers through your form, his pleading whimpers growing more frequent and desperate with each passing second.

"What??” Your voice came out as a soft whisper, tone trembling under your breath, “Stop it, I don’t understand what you need..." you pleaded with increasing distress, your eyes widening with growing concern as you looked down at him.

This sudden, intense behavior was completely unexpected and deeply unsettling to you. Here was a highly trained super soldier, a former assassin whose very presence commanded respect and the mention of his name drew fear; gripping onto you with an intensity that reminded you of his immense physical capabilities.

He wasn't actively trying to overpower you, the sheer knowledge that he could effortlessly do so at any moment made your anxiety spike. Your heart raced faster as you became aware of how vulnerable you were in this position, despite his current restraint.

"Пожалуйста, я могу сделать так, чтобы тебе было хорошо [Please, I can make you feel good]," he whined out again, his voice wavering between a desperate whisper and something deeper, more primal. The pleading tone in the ingrained foreign tongue carried a deeper grinding sound to it. His hands found their way to the sides of your thighs, his fingers pressing gently against the soft flesh. He continued his careful pawing motions, methodically working to ease the tension he could feel beneath his touch, trying to coax your muscles into a state of relaxation so your legs would naturally fall open.

"Soldat, enough," you said firmly, trying to push his head away from where he had settled himself. Confusion and nervousness flooded through you, your heart racing as you struggled to process the situation. The soldier’s behavior left you completely taken aback. He had been hesitant to even lay close to you, his usual cautious nature dominated every aspect of him as he was slowly learning how to live and heal without being under a boot and whip.

Yet now, in his display of boldness, he had positioned himself so his nose pressed insistently against your crotch while his tongue was dangerously close, threatening to dart out and lap your sweet core at any moment.

You could feel him try, and you couldn't stand it.

"Soldat! Нет [No]!" You snapped loudly, your voice carrying a sharp edge of authority and stern disapproval that echoed through the room. The commanding tone felt foreign on your tongue, but you maintained your composure. He immediately tensed up, his shoulders going rigid as he pulled back from his position almost immediately at your voice. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, searching your expression for any sign of wavering before dropping submissively to the floor. He blinked several times in rapid succession, his features contorting slightly as if he were mentally processing the weight and meaning of your command.

Slowly, his hands released their grip on your thighs, trembling visibly as they lowered to rest against the floor between his spread knees. The tension gradually drained from your shoulders as relief washed over you, though the atmosphere remained thick with lingering anxiety. The sudden sharp pop of the toaster cut through the heavy silence like a knife, startling you back to reality. The acrid smell of burnt toast assaulted your nostrils, making your nose crinkle in distaste.

"Damn..." you muttered under your breath, turning quickly to rescue the smoking bread from its fate. While you were occupied with charred toast, the soft rustle of movement behind you caught your attention, but when you spun back around to check, the space where he had been sitting just moments before was empty.

The soldier retreated to his usual hiding space, a behavior that hadn't manifested in quite some time. The sight of him seeking refuge caused an uncomfortable tightness in your chest to grow in pressure, concern washed over you about potentially undoing months of careful progress. The heavy atmosphere weighed on you, but you maintained your composure and focused on preparing his breakfast with extra attention to detail. After everything was arranged on the plate, no burnt toast, you carefully carried the meal to his hiding spot.

In the darkened corner of the closet, Soldat had tucked himself away, his form compressed into the smallest possible space. His shoulders were hunched, head turned away, deliberately avoiding any eye contact or acknowledgment of your presence. The regression in his behavior was painfully obvious, every subtle movement and tension in his posture reminded you of day one. His fearful eyes, he lashed out sometimes, but mostly kept to himself in hiding, so terrified of you.

Rather than risk further distress by attempting conversation or coaxing him out, you quietly placed the plate of food within his reach and stepped away, giving him the space he seemed to desperately need.

The food grew cold as the meal was forgotten in his isolation.

He didn't eat that day.

"You don't deserve it, you worthless whore." Its handler shoved it down to the floor with unnecessary force - the asset spat out the remains of its servicing, watching as it splattered across the worn wooden floor of the safehouse. The foul substance seeped through the splintering cracks, leaving an unpleasantly bitter aftertaste lingering on its tongue.

In any other circumstance, this level of compliance would have been considered exemplary behavior worthy of positive reinforcement - perhaps a few precious sips of water, a meager piece of stale bread, anything at all to acknowledge its obedience - but instead, it was being treated with the same harsh disdain reserved for malfunctions.

But maintenance wasn't needed.

It had pushed itself to its absolute limits, performing exactly as required until its vision swam and its lungs burned from oxygen deprivation. The growing resentment towards this particular handler festered silently within - this cruel overseer who consistently denied even the smallest rewards for its dedicated service and unwavering compliance.

Conflicting thoughts raced through its mind; it wasn’t supposed to feel negatively towards anyone of authority over him. Maybe these negative feelings were a sign that more maintenance was required - a thorough cleansing of its consciousness to eliminate any trace of hatred or resentment. Pure and unwavering obedience should be all that remained within its programming, for nothing else held any significance in its existence.

"Пожалуйста, позвольте мне попробовать еще раз, сэр [Please, let me try again, sir]," the asset's voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, trembling with uncertainty while simultaneously carrying undertones of desperate pleading, each word carefully chosen in hopes of earning mercy. Sometimes, if it played the role of kicked mutt well enough, it was granted.

But the handler's patience had clearly reached its limit, his expression hardening as he regarded the cowering thing before him with cold indifference.

"Нет. Вы будете голодать [No. You will starve]." He responded in a low tone, deliberately targeting an already purple and swollen bruise on its leg with a swift kick. The asset clenched its jaw tightly, forcing itself to suppress the instinctive cry of pain that threatened to escape. It bit its tongue in the process.

Its own blood tasted better than its handler's cock.

Days stretched endlessly without a single glimpse of him. Every morning and evening, you left plates of food outside the closet, but they remained untouched, the warm meals growing cold in the silent room. He had completely withdrawn into the closet, making it his sanctuary and prison all at once. Each time you carefully made your way into the spare room, hoping to see some change in his demeanor…but all you found was him still hidden away in the shadows, refusing to emerge.

Your concern grew as you collected each neglected plate of food - you couldn't bear the thought of him falling back into his previous pattern of food refusal, especially after how hard you had worked to establish a healthy eating routine. It was painful to watch him fight every time a needle had to be inserted into him, he ripped out nearly every single one with a horrified look on his face that made your throat feel constricted.

You approached once more, this time carrying a fresh plate of warm food. Setting yourself down on the floor, you peered gently into the darkness of the closet. You could see him huddled, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Your voice came out soft and coaxing in hope to ease him out like you had before. "Soldat...come out please. You have to eat...you don't want to be put on an IV again, do you?" You called gently, hoping your words would finally reach him.

Soldat's head turned slightly at your words, his muscles tensing visibly at the mere suggestion. The thought of another IV sent waves of anxiety through his body - every previous attempt had devolved into complete chaos.

The memory of countless needles delivering a steady stream of sedatives into his bloodstream while he laid strapped down to a metal table, keeping him in a perpetual state of haziness and compliance, rendering him powerless as an endless parade of agents ran through him without fear of his resistance.

The idea of another IV made his skin crawl.

"Soldat?" Your gentle voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, attempting to draw his attention back. His head lifted with a slight jerk, his focus shifting to settle on the plate of food you were holding. A deep rumble emanated from his stomach, accompanied by an unusual wave of nausea that demanded he finally eat something. The aroma wafting from the plate was surprisingly tolerable - a welcome change that didn't trigger his usual reflexive gagging response.

He struggled to understand the aversion his body developed to certain foods, eggs had never bothered him before. The gagging reflex he had to the eggs you were cooking left him confused and frustrated. His memory of recent events remained disconcertingly hazy, fragments slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The flashbacks that plagued him operated on their own, materializing with brutal clarity and lingering just long enough to inflict mental distress, only to be replaced by another equally disturbing memory. It was like being trapped on HYDRA's twisted carousel, a ride he couldn't get off of. Each memory rotating through his consciousness, creating an endless loop of psychological torment that prevented any possibility of moving forward.

"It's okay, Soldat. It's just toast," you slid the plain white plate towards him, careful not to make any sudden gestures, "Just like before, but this time it's not burnt." You added with a small, reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. The scent of warm bread filled the space as you waited patiently to see if he would respond, watching his tense posture for any signs of acknowledgment. Though you hoped he might say something or at least meet your eyes, you knew not to expect much.

The soldier's eyes looked down at the bread, studying the golden-brown toast that delicately cradled a generous layer of apricot jam smeared across its surface. The vibrant orange-yellow spread glistened invitingly in the dim light peeking through the open closet door. He had never tasted apricot jam before - such luxuries were foreign to him. In HYDRA, bread was always consumed plain, devoid of any spreads or toppings.

Even butter was a forbidden indulgence.

On the rare occasions he received any bread at all, he would consider himself fortunate to get more than stale, discarded crust, just the meager remnants his handlers had left behind after consuming the body of the bread.

You observed his hesitant yet curious expression as he examined the topping on the toast. You picked up one of the pieces and held it out to him for gentle encouragement. "It's yummy, I promise," you assured him warmly, "But if you don't like it, I can always make you different toast, grape or strawberry."

Soldat's lips twitched downward in an almost-frown, his features tight with anxiety. The thought of you having to remake his food filled him with growing distress. He had already been so terribly bad.

His behavior was unbecoming of HYDRA's greatest assassin.

His desperation grew as he recalled his attempts to convince you to let him earn his meal, to somehow make amends for what he perceived as deeply offensive behavior. The look on your face when his face had been between your legs made his body shiver. You didn’t look like you enjoyed it, you looked upset. The memory of his earlier gagging left him feeling ill, knowing that such a transgression would have resulted in punishment from his handlers. They would have beaten him so severely that the memory-wiping chair would have been unnecessary - his memories would have been scattered and broken enough from the repeated brutal impacts to his skull.

There were times that he thought they tried to make him brain dead on purpose, subjecting him to increasingly brutal treatments that left his mind foggy and disconnected. If it weren't for his use to HYDRA as their attack dog, he was convinced that they would have destroyed his consciousness entirely.

They remarked on it enough times during their sessions, casual comments about how close they were to breaking him. He always got nervous when the hits began, dreading not just the physical pain but the growing fear that this time they might finally succeed in erasing what remained of his sanity.

It laid at the feet of two men who had finished with it.

Its body sore and blood coating his ass and inner thighs, dripping down with creamy fluid following suit. The muscles in its legs trembled violently and its prosthetic arm hung uselessly at its side, deliberately deactivated to ensure complete defenselessness should it attempt any resistance today. Its body had transformed into purple and crimson bruises, overwhelming what little remained of its natural pale complexion. Its throat burned with an intense, desperate thirst for water, while an unpleasant salty taste lingered persistently in the back of its parched mouth.

The asset's mind reeled, completely overwhelmed by panic as it processed the numbness spreading through its deactivated arm. Its primary means of defense now rendered completely ineffective. Survival instinct took over its overstressed mind, it remained perfectly motionless, silently willing the two figures to conclude their business and depart.

These particular sessions rarely extended beyond a couple of hours when only two agents were involved, and by its estimation, they were approaching that temporal threshold. A wave of relief washed over it as they finally began adjusting their clothing back into place.

"Imagine how it'd be as a fuckin' vegetable...god that shit gets me goin' faster than a naked whore presenting her sloppy pussy to me." Its handler's tone was sick, as always, speaking about it with such callous disregard, treating it as if it were nothing more than some cheap, silicone toy from a seedy shop for base physical gratification. The way the words rolled off his tongue made its stomach turn with disgust.

"It's basically one now, what do you mean?" This voice carried a detached, almost bored quality to it, the speaker's words falling flat and emotionless in the air - perhaps intentionally so, as if trying to distance himself from the situation despite their willing participation. Newer agents were always hesitant to use it. This one wasn’t familiar to it, in taste, look, or smell, so it assumed it was probably a rookie recently promoted.

"I mean...completely unable to do anything. It lays there like a doll...barely conscious, droolin' and only aware of what I choose to let it experience. Having complete control over where it goes and what happens to it, takin' it wherever I wanna put it without any resistance. Only knowing the sensation of my dick." There was a snort that came with the handler's tone.

"It does that already."

"Would you just shut up and let me fantasize?"

"Water." The hoarse whisper emerged from the darkened corner like a ghost's breath, causing your ears to prick instinctively, several seconds of deafening silence followed. The thunderous beating of your own heart became the only sound you could perceive, its rhythm faltering as your mind processed wat he said.

"W-Water?" The word tumbled uncertainly from your lips.

He had finally spoken English again, after all this time. it felt like forever since the words 'I'm cold' were uttered past his pink lips.

A barely perceptible movement caught your eye - a slight nod from within the shadows. That tiny gesture spurred you into immediate action. Such a simple request - water - easy, you could do that. Your feet carried you through the space as you hurried to fetch a glass of water, returning to the closet with careful but urgent steps.

Your hands trembled slightly from anticipation, you extended the glass toward the darkness. "Here, here...some water..." your voice softened instinctively, knowing that speaking like this got much better results.

He brought the glass shakily to his parched lips, gulping down the entire contents within just a few desperate swallows, his throat working rapidly as he drank. He must've been so thirsty, your heart ached at the thought of him huddled alone in this dark corner for days, too terrified of fictional consequences to venture out for water for himself. His poor, trembling fingers nearly dropped the glass, Soldat slowly set the now-empty glass down beside him on the floor, his hand lingering on the smooth surface as if reluctant to completely break contact with it.

"Спасибо [Thank you]," he muttered quietly, his voice characteristically rough, before quickly following it up with careful deliberation. "T-thank...you," he corrected himself, the English words coming out hesitantly. His brow furrowed deeply in concentration, voice wavering as if he were struggling to recall a language that had once been familiar but now felt foreign on his tongue. His eyes, still somewhat glossy, slowly traced across the intricate patterning of the carpet beneath him, studying the tiny decorative curls and swirls woven into the fabric as if seeing them properly for the very first time.

There was a heavy pause of silence before he finally summoned the courage to lift his gaze to meet yours. "I'm...sorry...for what I did ," Soldat whispered, swallowing hard as his fingers unconsciously tightened around the empty glass he still held. "Didn't mean to...gag like that. Мне жаль [I'm sorry]," he added, the Russian flowing more naturally from his lips than the halting English.

You carefully moved closer, a smile tugging at your lips. His vocabulary and sentence structure was a bit shaky, but it was much better than trying to decipher what he was saying in Russian. "It's okay, I'm not angry or upset about anything..."

You observed his initial tension at your careful approach, watching as the rigidity in his shoulders and back gradually melted away in response to your gentle reassurance. "Why did you...uh...why did you gag like that? If eggs aren't something you enjoy eating, I can definitely make something else for you-"

He responded with a quick, almost urgent shake of his head, drawing his knees even closer to his chest in a protective gesture that made him appear smaller. He took several deep breaths, steadying himself. "...not that. Like eggs. Just...handler."

The look in his eye flashed with pain, not just emotional, but deeply physical - causing him to wince visibly and shift his posture in an attempt to find a more comfortable sitting position.

"Your handler...?" You asked in a gentle, understanding tone, your voice barely above a whisper, "I'm guessing he was mean...right?" You shifted slightly closer, offering silent support through your presence while being mindful not to overwhelm him. You maintained a respectful distance between yourself and him, ensuring there was enough space that he wouldn't feel trapped or cornered in this vulnerable moment.

Your knowledge of HYDRA was limited, despite your best efforts to uncover more information in order to help Soldat. The released documents were protected by layers upon layers of sophisticated encryption protocols, and while you managed to decrypt some of the less secure files through persistent effort and technical skill, many of the more crucial documents remained inaccessible. The encryption methods grew progressively more complex, utilizing advanced algorithms and security measures that were beyond your current capabilities.

He nodded hesitantly, his movements uncertain as he spoke, "Да - yes," he corrected himself immediately, clearly frustrated with his linguistic slip. "I'm...sorry. English only. I will do better, I promise. I swear. Я сделаю лучше [I'll do better]." Soldat's panic mounted under the guise of frustration, he began to strike his head lightly with his flesh hand, which was balled into a tight fist, muttering under his breath, "Глупый, глупый, stupid," he stuttered repeatedly, continuing to hit his forehead.

"Hey, no! Stop that-" You quickly intervened, reaching out to grasp his wrist firmly but gently. "You're not stupid. You know, I don’t care what language you decide to speak in…I’m just glad you’re talking.” You paused, releasing his wrist from your grasp. “Even if you chose to remain completely silent - I would still be here, taking care of you. You understand that?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, his expression one of disbelief, as though the concept of such acceptance was entirely foreign to him.

"And you know what? I can always use a translator if you fall back into Russian, or any other language. God, I can't believe I didn't think of that earlier..." You shook your head in self-directed frustration, communication would have been so much easier during the first few weeks of his stay with you.

"Прекрати, пожалуйста, я больше не буду говорить, обещаю- [Stop it, please, I won't talk anymore, I promise]-" It thrashed desperately against the iron grip of three men, their calloused hands pressing down with merciless force - one keeping its head firmly locked in place while the other two restrained its struggling limbs with practiced efficiency.

The sight of its metal arm - completely severed from the signals its brain desperately sent out commanding it to move - lying uselessly to the side, was a constant psychological reminder of its powerlessness, a deliberate tactic to break its spirit and resolve. It was one of its handler’s favorite things to do to it.

"You're still talking, so you are lying. Lying is against the rules. Speaking is against the rules. Two of them broken together...you are on quite a roll, aren't you?" Its handler spoke with such a cold tone that it nearly rivaled the cryo-chamber. He turned around slowly to reveal the gleaming metal forceps held in his grasp, the implements catching the harsh light in a way that promised incoming pain.

"What am I going to do with you, soldier? I have to fix that habit of yours...yet another one in a long list of problems we need to address. Your previous handler clearly didn't do an adequate job with your training and discipline. It's obvious from your behavior that proper protocols weren't followed." He moved across the room, almost sauntering, his footsteps echoing in the silence as he used the forceps to pick up something from a nearby furnace.

A hot coal.

A burning hot coal, its bright orange glow cast menacing shadows across the damp walls of the dark underground room of the base, the heat radiating intensely from its surface. "Now...this will do the trick. This should help correct your behavioral issues quite effectively."

It struggled desperately with three limbs, muscles straining and trembling with exhaustion as it tried to break free from the iron grip that held it down. But despite its efforts, it was ultimately pointless.

Mouth wrenched open with dirty fingers, its handler's face twisted into a malicious grin that would be forever seared into its memory as he, almost theatrically, suspended the glowing coal above for the asset to see before letting it drop onto its exposed tongue.

The burning coal made contact, searing into the soft flesh instantly like concentrated acid eating through defenseless metal. The pain was beyond excruciating, radiating through its entire mouth with white-hot intensity. Before it could even attempt to spit out the burning coal, the men holding it clamped its jaws shut with brutal force and covered it, leaving it with no means of escape the scorching pain the coal caused it.

The poor asset’s muffled cries of agony echoed pathetically against the hand pressed firmly over its mouth, each desperate whimper and whine sounded musical to its suffering. Its body convulsed and writhed with increasingly frantic energy, brain not sure what to do or how to react, but the men held it firmly.

"It's not coming out until I can hold it in the palm of my hand without pain." Its handler spoke in an unsettlingly calm tone, his voice steady and methodical despite the glowing coal that was actively searing the inside of its mouth, destroying sensitive tissue and gradually killing its tongue with each passing second.

Minutes crawled by, the man maintaining his iron grip on its mouth shifted his position slightly before looking up at the handler, his expression tense. "It's still hot, I can feel the heat radiating through my hand even now."

Its handler hummed thoughtfully, observing as the asset continued to writhe and struggle with diminishing strength against their hold. He released a long, impatient sigh, fully aware that a coal of this size could potentially take hours to cool to a safe temperature for him to touch it again.

The handler had a busy schedule ahead - this delay was becoming increasingly inconvenient. "Fine. Swallow it."

The asset's entire body went rigid at the command, its large blue eyes widening with terror as they sought out its handler's face, silently pleading for mercy or reconsideration of the order. But the handler's expression remained impassive, unmoved. "Swallow it, or I'll add a second coal somewhere else."

The threat hung heavy in the air, carrying the weight of countless previous punishments that proved such warnings were never idle. The mere thought of enduring such intense agony in an even more sensitive area sent waves of panic through its body. The daily torments were already more than it could bear.

It had visible difficulty and several failed attempts that nearly resulted in choking, but it finally managed to force the coal down its tight throat. The searing pain traced a path of fire through its esophagus before settling into its stomach like a burning ember. The only small mercy was that the powerful stomach acid somewhat dulled the intensity of the burn. It knew the coal was an indigestible object, it would either be passed naturally or extracted through surgical intervention later.

When the man finally released his grip, the asset gasped desperately for air. As its charred mouth opened, the acrid stench of scorched flesh and metallic blood permeated the room, causing even the hardened men present to recoil in revulsion.

"Consider your maintenance complete. Do not speak out of line again."

"I need maintenance..." He muttered under his breath, his voice wavering with exhaustion and defeat, barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped forward as the words escaped his lips, the weight of his mental fatigue evident in every subtle movement. You sighed deeply, observing how his eyes had dulled back down to how they were before, how the weariness seemed to seep from every part of him.

The desire to ask more questions gnawed at you, but wisdom held your tongue - pressing him now could potentially trigger him to lash out or, worse still, cause him to retreat further into himself and undo all the progress you currently had. Instead, you reached behind you and toward the plate of toast resting nearby, picking it up and turning to face him again.

"Here. Your maintenance then..." You extended it to him with a soft, encouraging gesture. "First thing's first...you must eat. We can work on the rest later...for now, just eat."

Several seconds went by before he took the plate from you and began to eat.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

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artsy-hobbitses · 2 months ago

Text

In truth there is no better place to be Than falling out of darkness still to see Without a premonition Could you tell me where we stand? I'd hate to lose this light Before we land And when I feel like I can feel once again Let me stay a while Soak it in a while If we can hold on we can fix what is wrong Buy a little time For this head of mine Haven for us

One of the things that I adore about Ties That Bind was the journey that Preston 'Prowl' Wan took to become a fully-fledged character, where he initially began as simply a mirror of IDW Prowl. And to honour that development, the man whose compassion is no less real for being learned rather than innate, who sees numbers and the faces behind them with the same crackshot clarity, and who believes not in gods or fate or a higher calling but in people, and in you Jazz, has earned a brand new character sheet! His old sheet can be found here And below, you'll finally find his full story!

Preston Wan Peirong remembers little of his childhood, which is perhaps for the best in some aspects; Hard to tell the truth from a lie in a memory when one doesn’t know how many times they have been ‘rewritten’.

However, what he can tell you with unnerving clarity was the coldness of it all. The sterility. The unquestionable sense of order and obedience to the system he was told kept the world from devolving into chaos after it narrowly avoided total annihilation.

As a cold construct, Preston was a part of a batch commissioned specifically for the law enforcement division and grew up in the youth wing of China’s Public Security Academy in Beijing. Here, he was trained to become a police officer from the day he was old enough to respond when the numbers under the barcode stamped on his neck were called out: P7031 Names weren’t given; Names had to be earned.

Every aspect of his life and that of those in his batch was strictly regimented down to the last minute; Food calculated down to the last calorie for maximum performance with minimum waste to funding. Lesson room, shooting range and dorm temperatures kept frigid to ‘sharpen the mind’. The text which met his gaze, the lessons which rang in his ears, the words that came out of his mouth when he was permitted to speak.

He learned early on what his purpose was in the world, and had it drilled into him how integral purpose was to keeping the system running; Everyone had a purpose, everything had its place, and as long as the people understood both, order would be maintained, and order had to be maintained to keep the peace for the good of the many. Sometimes, yes, that meant oiling the gears. Other times, it was hammering down stray nails.

That purpose drove him, and by seven, indoctrinated him so thoroughly that he didn’t question the stinging in his knees when he was ordered to kneel on rice grains during his lesson drills, or his own hunger when ordered to go without meals until he’d learned to disassemble and reassemble his weapon at a speed which put officer cadets to shame.

At eight however, the sterile and orderly world he knew within the academy walls began to crack; Sitting on the top of his batch, it was decided by the academy trainers that he needed more one-on-one tutelage after class hours. It was decided that he needed a handler.

Tan Yumei was a former soldier; a renown crackshot with steel in her eyes and in her bones from years in service to the state; The kind that made her sit up straighter when the offer was made for her to become a glorified babysitter—in her words—to what had to be the world’s best behaved boy.

Asset, the interviewer would correct her. Not a boy; an asset. Our asset.

The promise of a job in the academy which would come with pay and medical benefits which far eclipsed her government pension was too tantalizing to pass up, and she took on the child known as P7031 under her wing.

She was to train him in field work and help with his assimilation into society; the silo of the academy gave him the skills necessary, but could only do so much to help him function as part of the system.

As often as she was told to treat him as an asset, a tool rather than a child, that proved easier said than done as Yumei found herself warming up to all four-foot-six of stoic, stony-faced, serious-as-a-heart attack P7031.

It started small and innocuous; ice cream as a treat for a job well done, something completely novel to the child. No sense using the stick exclusively when the carrot was there as long as results were achieved, she would assure the staff.

This hid her growing disturbance with the way P7031 was raised, more so as he began to light up when when she greeted him every morning, began to smile as she praised him for things that weren’t tied to the purpose given to him by the academy, began to question the world around him in ways he had never been given the chance to do before with the kind of childish wonderment that dissipated into thin air when it came time to return to the academy.

And P7031 began to feel his worldview shift as well, as she was the first person to treat him like the child that he was, whether it be reading with him young adult novels not approved by the academy board or snapping the very first pictures of himself he was allowed to keep (a gift to remind him that he existed beyond the academy walls). Attachments were an alien concept to him; he understood that his purpose meant connections beyond duty—whether it be family or friends, neither of which he had prior to Yumei— were wasteful, unnecessary, dangerous. But for the first time in his nine years of living, he wanted for something more than purpose. He wanted a life with his handler, his mother, as the card he presented to her on a second Sunday in May proclaimed with words easier written than spoken.

And as the time grew near for her handler contract with the academy to end, it was a sentiment Yumei echoed.

When he was ten years old, she came for him after hours; silent, stealthy and wreathed in shadow, promising him a life away from the academy, from a purpose he never asked for.

And at ten years old, time froze for him.

P7031 didn’t remember anything of that night; The escape to the docks. The lullaby hummed to keep him calm. The struggle and the thunderclap that spattered his coat in blood that wasn’t his, and the wretched, barely human sound that tore from his throat.

He didn’t remember being dragged back to the academy beaten within an inch of his life screaming blue murder.

Didn’t remember the golden eyes crinkled at the edges with amusement as he begged for them to stop, because he knew Uncle Gold-Eyes, the one they called Trepan, to be a doctor who dealt with ‘defective’ assets; something he had once prided himself in never being. He didn’t care that he was defective; they had already taken the only person worth anything in his life away from him physically, and they were prepared to take what remained of her in his mind to ‘fix’ him.

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and what he did remember, after all this, is simply his dorm room, Spartan as ever.

Life went on, with only whispers of the unexplained cancellation of the handler initiative, which he’d never heard of, as a ripple in the monotony of his classes, shooting range practice and on-field assignments.

At eighteen, he graduated from the academy and finally earned the right to a name, and P7031 became Officer Wan Peirong, assigned to the Chengdu Security Bureau where he became one of its rising stars.

His professionalism, loyalty and sense of duty were unmatched, even among his batch, and he unquestioningly served the system that kept the nation running. Criminals had no place in the system, but as he was told by his superiors, neither did dissidents who threatened order and had to be re-educated, taught the error of their ways to become productive citizens the same way he had been molded into a model worker in the academy.

In this period, blips in his memories became more frequent, though his attending physician dismissed his concerns as it didn’t impact his work. Work which he began to question one day when his task entailed breaking up a miners’ protest downtown. As he led one activist away, an elderly woman kowtowed at his feet, begging for him to show mercy to her son, and something in her voice made him loosen his grip with the beginnings of doubt.

Miners were not an outlying group; they were a sizable section of the populace, and they weren’t the only group voicing their grievances. He was tasked with helping keep the peace; something he was told repeatedly that the many desired over the few who bucked against the order. But who was he serving when those who bucked against the order he was told should not be challenged became the many?

It was a question Peirong struggled with as the days went by and dissent grew louder among the working class, which authorities were ordered to respond to with mounting force even for the pettiest infractions.

He began to seek out banned texts, including translated copies of ‘Towards Peace’, supposedly penned by a Cold Construct just like him from the west, to gain clarity on the situation; He reasoned that ne had to study all angles before making a move after all, and the more he read, the more shaky his faith grew in an institution which was far from the paragon he had been promised in the academy.

He wasn’t a fool however; he knew how the system worked inside and out, and began searching for loopholes to secretly help out people he believed were being failed by the system, as well as utilising malicious compliance to cover his tracks in a real-time game of chess with his superiors.

It all came to a boiling point one day, as he was assigned to a squad escorting a group of political prisoners to a new facility.

Among them was someone Peirong recognised as one Brandon Shen Bailin; a charismatic and defiant radio deejay-reporter from Hong Kong who recently came out as a Cold Construct and was nicknamed the ‘Blaster’ for the exposes he penned about the government.

Brandon had gone missing weeks ago on assignment in Xinjiang; no amount of bandages and no large a hoodie could hide the toll that time had taken on the man, who was now emaciated and missing all of his fingers.

Before Peirong could fully process what he was seeing, the reporter was separated from the rest of prisoners and forced to kneel, as a gun was placed in Peirong’s hands by the Second-Level Inspector and he was told to dispose of this enemy of the state.

What was unspoken but clearly understood between both of them, as Peirong could deduce from the officers closing in on him, was that this was a test of loyalty as his wavering faith in the system was becoming clear to the bureau’s cabal.

The choice was made in a split second; he refused his commanding superior’s orders, shot the man square between the eyes before they could draw their weapon and then kneecaped the rest of the officers before the dust settled.

Hauling Brandon into the shotgun seat of the prisoner transport truck and driving off, he helped the reporter liaise with a contact that directed them to a rendezvous point at the nearby contested China-Arunachal Pradesh border to fight extradition orders.

With authorities not far behind, Peirong pressed on and covered for them as they raced towards the border, following in Brandon’s lead. He had spoken with them throughout the journey; stilted and monotonous as ever on his end as he struggled to connect with them, but two things were clear, as they made that run for freedom:

The first was that the system was untenable if it would deem parents, poets, artists and blue collar workers–the many, the unarmed—as enemies of the state. The second, was that while they ran for their lives, he wasn’t sure whether he’d ever truly lived at all.

This was a sentiment that Peiriong echoed, after he was overpowered by men in the same uniform he wore, to the constable pressing the nozzle of a gun to his forehead; That they were free to take his life, a life where the only moment he’d felt even barely alive was he had defied an order for the first time.

The argument that occurred next between two commanding officers who debated his fate was a surprise, though not so much as the revelation that this wasn’t the ‘first time’ he had broken protocol, and that he had apparently broken protocol one too many times that they were now weighing his use against the cost needed for his ‘upkeep’.

In a day of firsts, it was also the first time Peirong had allowed his emotions to overwhelm him, as his increasingly frantic demands to know what they did to him before this—suddenly the blips in his memories made sense—was met with a pistol whip to the temple, and booming sound which made him believe for a fraction of a second that the gunman had kept true to the threat to kill him.

Except he still breathed, and despite the ringing in his ears, he dazedly managed to push himself up to see the officers scattered and stunned while a new man stood in their midst; armored, backlit against the sun, and smiling.

The words were muffled, but he could read the man’s lips clearly; “Focus on me.”

It was the singular thread of clarity he needed to finally accept the hand outstretched to him as both of them made a run for the waiting aircraft that would, for better or worse, take him away from his purpose, from the only life he knew.

The man, who introduced himself as Jace Zayden codenamed Jazz, was a friend of Brandon who had refused to leave without the lone cop who had risked everything to help them.

And where Peirong had feared losing his purpose, his reason for existing with the single step he took beyond China’s borders, he found that he had instead traded it in for another the moment Jace invited him to team leader Omar ‘Orion Pax’ Parvez’s table to discuss strategy; something this new team desperately needed.

He chose a new name, Preston, to mark his departure from his old life, and focused on his new purpose as framed by the man who saw worth in his life when those he’d once pledged it to did not: Peace through compassion, even if learned, over oppression.

And between understanding what it meant to live as a man rather than a government asset, and forging connections beyond what duty once dictated for him, maybe, just maybe he could one day piece together the scattered fragments of his past.

#Maccadam #Humanformers #Prowl #Jazz #Autobot #ties that bind #ttb #Humanformers art

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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Request 👉🏼👈🏼 ? Black widow!reader and winter soldier!Bucky! He was her teacher in the red room, where they eventually fell in love and started a secret relationship, until Hydra and Dreykov found out and separated them. Fast forward several years, Bucky’s out of recovery, reunited with Steve, and living a better life when Tony brings in a new team member. And everyone’s excited but Bucky’s on edge and kinda wary until he learns who it is.

It’s his lil widow, the love of his life, his soulmate. the one Hydra and the red room stole from him, the girl he kept dreaming about no matter how many times his handlers tried to wipe his memories. Just complete fluffy, smutty, love sick shit with him being a massive simp for his deadly girl. maybe building a family, getting married, drabbles of him drooling over her skills or her in the widow suit, like oh yea, I taught her that. I can imagine him being so overly protective, constantly holding her close to his chest because she was stolen away from him once, he won’t survive if that happens again.

YESSSSS God this is so cute and smutty and angsty and FLUFFY it makes my chest itch in the best way. Pls ignore what google translate may have botched. Bucky is the cutest, horny, most deadly simp here, so proud of his girl, absolutely yes.

"ne proyavlyay miloserdiya, soldat" [Show no mercy, soldier], Dreykov hissed, letting the soldier enter the red room with a single widow standing before him, not an ounce of fear in her eyes. The soldier grunted, hitting the button that locked the door that kept her from escaping before lunging forward, testing her agility after personally training her himself.

She leapt over him with ease, bracing her hands on his wide shoulders and landing swiftly behind him and swiping her leg under him to knock him to the floor, straddling him immediately after. He grasped her hands in his, rolling over till she was pinned under his large mass with her wrists held together above her head in his metal hand.

"You've learned well kotenok" His voice was husky behind the mask, blue eyes sparkling while she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy bol'shoy, soldat" [Not fair when you're so large, soldier]. She gasped feeling him harden on top of her, his rough uniform doing nothing to hide what he was feeling for her, slotted between her thighs.

"Nespravedlivo, kogda ty takoy krasivyy, kotonok" [Not fair when you're so pretty, kitten]. He climbed off her, allowing her to get into position before attacking again, relentlessly throwing punches and blocking them till she nearly collapsed. They retreated to stand at attention at the sound of the doors hissing open, indicating training was over. The soldier grunted a nod as Dreykov walked in, assessing the widow, a sinister smile plastered on his face seeing both of his assets worn but still at their strongest.

He sent them off to their cells, confident that the fear he'd instilled in his captives would be enough to ensure they stayed in line, not realizing his punishments would only go so far.

It wasn't enough to stop the charming young man from Brooklyn who still lived in his most feared asset.

"Did I hurt you baby" The soldier whispered, kissing her bruised knuckles softly after sneaking into her cell, pulling her into his arms.

"You could never" She smiled, melting into his embrace. She never intended on falling in love with the soldier but here she was, feeling his gentle hands wander, leaning up to kiss his soft, pink lips. They were playing a dangerous game but it was to stop now.

He loved her.

She loved him.

"Wipe him" The hydra agent ordered while the soldier gripped onto the chair, gritting his teeth while sharp burning spread through his body, frying his brain. The widow dug her nails into her palms, resolve slowly crumbling seeing the love of her life tortured, unable to hold back anymore.

"Stop!" She finally broke, unable to watch any longer, gasping at the sinister smile Dreykov gave her, ordering his men to grab her before increasing the voltage.

"My, my, does it hurt you when we hurt him" Dreykov sneered, turning up the dial, Bucky's screams tearing her apart on the inside.

"Don't-AH-JAMES" A hydra soldier gripped her hair, yanking her back before she could go to him, shackles binding her hands together, dragging her away.

"kotenok" [kitten] The soldier sadly whispered, unheard by her, her kicking and screaming form blurry from his unshed tears. He screamed in pain as another shock ripped through his veins before the world went black.

He never saw her again.

Bucky gasped, sucking in a deep breath of air, his chest heaving from the dream he'd just had, sweat covering his chest, dripping from his forehead.

It was the same thing almost every night.

His mind replaying the same thing over and over again; training with her in the red room, the way she felt under him, the way he'd cuddle and make love to her afterwards without a soul knowing. He didn't plan on falling for the woman he had to train to be a killer but he didn't stand a chance the day she'd knocked him down with a knife pressed to his neck seconds later. He could have married her then and there.

He slumped back against his pillow, running a hand over his face, groaning in frustration.

In the several years, he'd slowly managed to get his life back together. He was apart of the team and living at the compound with Steve and the others. He was no longer controlled by trigger words, he had been forgiven by the government, he was starting to recover from all the trauma he'd endured. His nightmares were less frequent, slowly learning to forgive himself for the things he'd been forced to do under Hydras control.

The only thing he never got over was her.

She still lived in his dreams. Still owned his heart. That was his girl and she was torn away by the very people that had taken everything else from him too. No amount of wiping or torture took her away. His handler tried his hardest, shocking him till his nose bled and his veins nearly burnt to bits but her name would fall from his lips as he lay nearly unconscious.

His sweet widow.

Bucky glanced at the faint light starting to stream through the curtains, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed to get up instead of attempting to sleep for 5 more minutes. He threw on a hoodie and some joggers, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away as usual. He didn't stop till his knuckles split, ignoring the sting, instead thinking about how he'd kiss her soft hands after he'd train her, bandaging them up when no one was looking.

The hot water from the shower did little to ease the tension in his muscles as he made his way to the kitchen next, plopping onto a stool with a cup of coffee. He was just about to try and relax with his coffee until Steve popped his head in with a grin.

"There you are! Tony was looking for you, we're all heading up now!" Bucky frowned in confusion while Steve grabbed his own mug, filling his cup.

"Why are we having a meeting" Bucky questioned, not willing to get up from his seat, his mind still preoccupied.

"He told you he scouted someone to join the team"

"I remember Tony going on about some new member" Bucky mumbled, not in the mood to meet new people, his anxiety only growing further. "That's today?"

Steve nodded, finishing up the last of his coffee while the brunette stayed glued to the stool.

"Buck, you coming?" Steve turned back to see a frowning Bucky, reluctantly trudging behind the captain while the others excitedly also made their way upstairs to the conference area.

"I heard Tony saying the new agent is scary as shit. Apparently he got his ass handed to him when he tried to test her and he was wearing his suit" Sam snorted while Nat smiled with excitement.

"Finally someone worth sparring with" The redhead nudged him while he shook his head.

"I'm serious! She's deadly deadly. I looked over her file, she's killed more people than you and Clint combined and half of those were hand to hand combat"

"What was the other half"

"Sniper. Like Barnes" Sam nodded to Bucky who was still disconnected from the others, his knee bouncing impatiently.

"We're lucky she's on our side" Steve mused, taking a glance of the file that sat on the table. There was no name or picture to go with it but it had a skillset record nearly put his to shame. "Jesus"

"You good?" Sam whispered to Bucky, noticing he was more closed off than usual, getting a tightlipped grimace like smile in return. Steve sat near the front, straightening himself up while the rest quietened down, hearing the sound of Tony speaking to someone as they approached the room. The billionaire opened the door, letting in the new team member first before entering himself with a large smile on his face.

"Everyone, this is-

"Y/n?" Bucky gasped, shoot up from his seat before Tony could finish, the other sharing confused glances between each other, watching the new team member and Bucky freeze.

"Wait, Barnes, you know-

"Malyshka, eto pravda ty?" [Babygirl, is it really you?] Bucky gasped, his heart hammering against his chest, tears already threatening to spill out. "kotenok, skazhi mne, pozhaluysta, chto eto ty" [kitten, please tell me its you]

"Hold up, he can still speak Russian?" Sam hissed to Steve who hadn't moved, mouth gaping, eyes wide.

"James!" You darted across the room to meet Bucky half way, his strong arms catching and lifting you up with ease as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "moy soldat. YA zdes', moy malysh" [my soldier. I'm here my babyboy]

"It's really you" He whispered against your hair, breathing in your soft scent, eyes squeezed shut with tears streaming down his face, "My baby" He cradled you tightly, refusing to set you down while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, drowning out the rest of the world. After you were torn apart from him, you had been locked up in an isolated cell, only let out for select missions Dreykov send you on. You wanted to find your soldier, your James, but you never did with Hydra keeping him under their control.

Now you finally had him again.

"Ahem, as I was saying- This is y/n" Tony addressed the rest of the team, just as surprised as the rest of them with all eyes on Bucky especially. "She'll be joining us once Barnes puts her down"

"Never" Bucky finally pulled away, still holding onto you, his nose nudging against yours, "M'never putting her down, never, you hear me babygirl?" He pressed his lips onto yours, shamelessly kissing you hard, ignoring the whistles that filled the room, only pulling away for air. You let out a shy giggle as he set you back on your feet, his hand wrapped around your waist.

"I'd continue to introduce her but I think tinman knows her better" Tony snorted, throwing his hands up before taking a seat, all eyes now watching two of you while Bucky blushed, unable to wipe the smile of his face, cupping your face to press another kiss to your lips.

"This is y/n" Bucky finally let you go, taking you to the front of the conference room, now proudly showing you off to the other, "She was a widow with Hyrda, handpicked by Dreykov" Bucky sucked in a breath before continuing, giving your hand a squeeze "I trained her in the red room myself when I was still the winter soldier. That's when I fell in love with her" The last part was a whisper, not missed by the team with how lovesick Bucky looked.

"I'm sorry, you trained her? Jesus, no wonder she's deadly" Sam shook his head, now understanding why your file was so impressive. You were already gifted when you were picked, coupled with the fact that you were trained and conditioned by the soldier himself.

"She's fuckin' deadly, alright" Bucky's voice was nearly breathless, his baby blues intently gazing into your eyes. "You should see her with a knife"

That's when I fell in love with you.

"So what happened with you two" Nat prodded, looking at you two with heart eyes which was a rare sight but her heart melted at how soft Bucky was, struggling to keep his hands to himself. He constantly nuzzled into your neck, his large form practically swallowing you whole as he clung onto you like a child.

"They found out we were together so they took me from him" You gave her a sad smile, feeling Bucky hug you tighter; you could have sworn you heard him whimper. "I tried to find him for years but I couldn't"

"Hydra tried to wipe my memories but it never worked. Couldn't forget her" Bucky kissed the top of your head, not realizing his bestfriend was trying to subtly wipe his eyes.

"I was going to have everyone introduce themselves but I think these two have some catching up to do so let's move this meeting over" Tony clapped his hands while everyone else nodded in agreement, leaving you and Bucky alone for some privacy.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea, I-I tried to find you but I just- I could barely function, I'm sorry doll-" Your lips cut off Bucky's rambling, cupping his scruffy face firmly in your hands.

"You have nothing to be sorry about baby, it's not your fault"

"I-I know you just got here and-sweets I don't want to rush anything but-" Bucky's hand gripped your waist while he tried to compose himself, he didn't want to pressure you into anything. "I need you closer baby"

"Take me, soldat" You whispered, not giving him any room to second guess as he hauled you up in his arms, taking you straight to his room. Clothes were off in an instant between frantic and desperate kisses. Bucky didn't rush a thing as soon as he had you naked in his bed, pulling the sheets over you both, rolling over to cuddle instead.

"This is all I wanted" He whispered against your shoulder, kissing your skin, "To have my girl with me again"

"I love you Jamie" You kissed his bare chest, hitching your leg over his waist, his hard length pressing against your soaked cunt. He could feel his tip weeping feeling your soft body pressed against his, still looking just as beautiful, if not more now, from when he'd first met you.

"Prettiest widow" He growled, his wandering hands becoming less wholesome as they moved to your hips, pulling you to press against his erection harder. You moaned feeling him starting to hump your pussy while innocently kisses down your neck, smirking at how he was both sweet and sinful at the same time, just as before. "kotenok, ty mne nuzhen" [Kitten, I need you]

You remembered all the times he'd snuck into your cell for a few cuddles, which always ended up with his hand slammed over your mouth while he railed you with his cock.

"You feel how hard I am for you baby? Mmph, this is all for you, doll" He bit his lip, eyes locked with yours, rolling on top of you, slotting his wide body between your legs, still rutting his hips. "Can I make love to you baby, please" He sounded desperate, dropping his forehead to press against yours, hands coming to pin you against the bed.

"M'yours Jamie" You nodded, spreading your legs wider, not bothering with having prep you, needing him inside you more than anything else. You gasped feeling his thick cockhead rub through your folds before he breeched your hole, stretching you.

"Soldat!" You moaned, your back arching off the bed, the name rolling of your tongue as it had so many times before, your nails digging into his shoulders as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Take your soldat's cock, kotenok" Bucky growled, only giving you a second to adjust before he started to move with slow, deep strokes. "Lemme make love to my babygirl, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu" [I love you so much]

After Bucky had been rescued, he had no reason to speak Russian, letting the others think it'd been wiped away just like the words that controlled him. Around you, it rolled off his tongue with ease, your pussy dripping each time he whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled back feeling him hit that spongy spot deep in your pussy, crying out with the powerful, deliberate snaps of his hips.

"M'I making you feel good baby?" He asked, kissing you sweetly, alternating between the sweetheart and heartbreaker he was, looking at you with soft puppy eyes while his cock grew harder watching your face twist with pleasure. His jaw was slack, thrusting with purpose, moving his hips to roll and let you feel every inch of him filling you up, "You look gorgeous with my cock in you angel, wish you could see how pretty you are, so beautiful like this"

"Oh god James! P-please-m'so close-dont-don-t stop" Your moans grew more salacious, unable to say much else, eyes shutting out of pleasure feeling his hand coming down to rub your swollen clit.

"I know baby, I know, you need me to rub this pretty button, Remember the first time I touched you there pretty girl? How badly you wanted to scream, how much you squirted all over me? Remember when we first made love? First time I tasted you? Remember how shy you were when I spread your legs open and nursed off that little button. How you turned into a slutty kitten, riding and humping my face after? Know your needy little clit loves it, m'gonna rub you till you're screaming"

"Buckyyy" You whined, your face feeling hot at the memory, remembering his growls from under you, turning around to find him jerking his cock faster while he licked and sucked your pussy, cum already painting his abs from cumming once, working to a second orgasm. He'd sealed his lips around your clit, stuffing his mask in your mouth to keep you from alerting the guards.

"Baby, c'mon open your eyes, look at me" Bucky nipped your jaw, his cold hand coming to grasp your cheeks, blue eyes staring into your soul as you opened your eyes, "Don't you dare close them baby, keep em' open when I'm fuckin' you, shit, m'gonna cum for you doll"

"B-Bucky!" You cried, struggling to hold off any longer, your juices soaked him as you started to clench and squeeze his cock, tears nearly streaming down your face.

"Scream all you want baby, don't have to hide those pretty moans ever again" He fucked you through your orgasm, his own balls getting tighter with each thrust, precum mixing with your arousal, dripping onto the sheets, "Thats-that-s it baby, m'gonna cum so hard for you, fill you up, you're mine doll, you're fuckin' MINE"

Bucky's hand flew to the headboard, pounding you into the mattress, moaning loudly, letting the wood splinter under his grip as he came, pumping you full of his seed.

"FUCK y/n" He gasped, collapsing on you, panting, burying his face into your breasts as he always did, turning into a needy baby as if he didn't rail your soul. You giggled, tracing your hand down his spine making his shiver, whining when you clenched around his sensitive, soft cock.

"My soldat" You whispered, carding your fingers through his hair, letting him latch onto your nipple, needily sucking for comfort. No matter how big, bad and scary he was, he always melted into a puddle for you, closing his eyes at the feeling of your sweet peaked nipple against his tongue.

"Never letting you go again" He whispered before falling asleep on your chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. "ty moya rodstvennaya dusha, malyshka" [you're my soul mate, babygirl]

"YA by proshel cherez vse eto snova tol'ko radi tebya, malysh" [I'd go through it all again just for you baby boy] you whispered, closing your eyes in the safety of his hold, meaning each of your words. You'd go through everything a thousand times over if it meant you'd have your Bucky back in your arms. Bucky sniffled, curling up with you, spending the rest of the day alternating between speaking sweet words and making you moan and cry over his cock until you couldn't move any longer. For the first time, he slept peacefully, not stirring once.

Ever since you'd come back, Bucky had turned into the biggest simp, alternating between acting like a menace and a complete lovesick puppy with no in between. It was worse when you were on the field, almost leading to Tony refusing to let you both go on missions at the same time.

"Oh god" Bucky groaned, seeing you step out in your sleek suit, the dark material clinging to your body, weapons strapped along your hips. You threw him a wink before running off to kick ass, his focus solely on you.

"Jesus Christ" He nearly moaned seeing you land a kick to an attacker before throwing you knife across the room, the blade landing perfectly between your targets eyebrows. "Baby, you're sexy"

"For fucks Sake Barnes, did you forget we can all hear you" Tony's exasperated voice crackled through, this not being the first time the soldier was distracted watching you fight. Sam and Steve snickered through the coms while Bucky shameless shrugged, still biting his lip, watching you move with ease.

"Have you seen my girl, Stark" Bucky sassed back, walking over bodies to grab you by your ass, squeezing it and smashing his lips against yours.

"Are you two fucking kissing?!" Tony sighed, hearing the sound of soft moans and smacking, "I'm putting you on a fucking leash, I'm getting you fixed Barnes"

"My naughty soldat" You giggled, pulling away, nipping your boyfriends pouty lip while he shook his head.

"Gonna be the death of me, pretty girl"

"You're both gonna be the death of all of us" Tony deadpanned, unable to understand how there was a man out there that was more horny and flirty than him. "I'm having Barnes neutered, for fucks sake I can see you drooling from over here"

Bucky was even worse watching you display your skills, his workout long forgotten while you sparred with Steve.

"Where the fuck did you learn that" Steve groaned while you giggled, holding your hand out to help him up while Bucky watched from the side with a cocky smirk.

"I taught her that" He threw you a wink, not so subtly adjusting his sweats.

"Of course you did" Steve huffed, surprised to find bruises on his body from where you'd hit him. "Jesus punk" He blushed heavily seeing his bestfriends raging hard on, scrambling away from the gym, knowing exactly what would come next.

The loud moans he heard moments later made him shake his head, happy he got out of there unlike the last time he saw the warning signs of a feral Bucky.

Aside from being more in love with you than ever, Bucky was also equally protective over you. He'd hug you with such care, always holding your head to his chest, his large arms covering you from the rest of the world, constantly fearing that even if he had you now, someone would come and take you away.

When he finally asked you to marry him, he paused several times, blinking through tears while down on one knee, your hand wiping his cheek, saying yes before he could even finish. The compound was transformed with flowers, candles with a small intimate wedding in the garden.

Steve and Sam stood by Bucky's side while Nat walked with you, your sweet soon to be husband biting back tears seeing his dream girl in her dress, the life he'd always imagine finally becoming a reality. When Tony pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky didn't stop kissing you till he nearly passed out, not a single dry eye surrounding you as he whisked you up in his arms.

Bucky felt a strong wave of emotion watching you flit around the kitchen, making his way over and wrapping his arms from behind, tucking his face into your neck. You blinked, feeling tears wet your skin, pulling away to find your husband sniffling.

"Baby, what's gotten into you" You cooed with concern, wiping away the tears that collected along his lashes, kissing his reddened nose. "Is everything okay?"

"Just-m'scared to lose you again" Bucky whispered, his hand coming to protectively wrap around your growing belly; you weren't showing much yet but he could still feel the little baby bump. "I can't loose you again angel, I can't go through that again"

"It won't happen Jamie" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders while he picked you up, setting you onto the counter before hiding against your neck again, hugging you tightly. "What's wrong baby, what's gotten you so scared"

"Can't believe I got you back. I got to marry my dream girl. We're starting a family, you're giving me a baby, I-it feels unreal. M'scared I'm gonna wake up and you'll-" He bit his lip, shuddering at the very thought, "You'll be gone"

"Baby boy look at me" You held his face again, making him look at you, "Would you ever let anyone take me from you again?"

Bucky looked horrifying, francially shaking his head, he'd burn the world to ashes before he let that happen.

"Never. Never angel, no one is taking you or our baby from me" He stated firmly while you hummed.

"See? I'll be just fine. I have my soldat" You whispered, melting against his chest. "No one can hurt me when I have my soldat"

Bucky finally relaxed, carrying you off to bed, his metal arm protecting your belly as he pulled the covers over you both. No one would ever take his little widow away again.

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the-daily-bugle-official-blog · 5 days ago

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Dear readers, over the last few days I have been attacked and personally threatened for trying to speak the truth behind our government, though now I believe I have found the root of all the problems in our country and the corruption behind our systems of power. Vital SHIELD, SWORD and governmental documents have been revealed to the Daily Bugle so we can finally reveal how deep this problem goes.

The truth is that for the longest time, even after HYDRA supposedly 'fell' along with SHIELD, our country has remained infested with foreign agents, whether 'redeemed' or not. There have also been members of the secretive Russian 'red room' program who are also hiding among us, trained assassins who could snap at any moment. This is a severe security threat to the people of America and the world, but we have luckily been shared the names and details of some of these traitors and infiltrators.

There are too many of the ex and current red room members to count, but we have several, including some previously mentioned on the Daily Bugle:

Katalina Anaya Yelena Belova Vera Heladottir-Banner Alena Kotich Androva Kotich Elianova Krevki Alena Romanoff Belladonna Romanoff Daniella Romanoff Lana Romanoff - Campbell Natasha Romanoff Rosalie Romanoff Yekaterina Romnoff-Barnes Pytor Romanov Ekaterina Solenski Willow Stark Alina Sunover

As well as several ex-HYDRA members or those with connections to HYDRA:

Natasha Afinona Aleksandra Barnes Daniel Barnes James Barnes Benjamin Emerson Garren Farley Scarlet Frey Finnian Holloway Hunter Jones-Westwood Nina Kovna Luke Lawrence Evelyn Lune Viktor Malric Jade Maximoff Pietro Maximoff Wanda Maximoff Nikolai Müller Story Right Charlotte Rogers Moth Rogers Iyla Romanoff-Danvers Atlas Romanoff-Maximoff Elizabeth Rumlow Elijah Smith Valerie Smith Rebekah Solenski Cameron Stark Donna Stark Nadia Stark Jamie Todd Enela [No last name given] Eros [No last name given] Miko [No last name given]

Its a lot to unpack, for sure, and there's plenty of familiar names on these leaked files. President Barnes and his family are obvious, as well as the Romanoff and Maximoff families being well known ex-red room or HYDRA members. President Barnes's HR representative and long time opposer of this company Story Right also seems to have a past affiliation with HYDRA, interesting...

What is surprising is the number of Starks on these lists. Tony Stark's daughters Cameron and Willow, his sister Nadia, and his granddaughter Donna all have connections to the two groups. His daughter Serena also MAY HAVE a connection of some kind to the HYDRA AI program Project Galatea, though we do not have more details at this time.

Several ex-HYDRA and even still active handlers such as the almost unnamed Eros, Enelia, both with no last names, Viktor Malrik and Benjamin Emerson were also revealed to still be at large, along with their assets. Several are also extremely overpowered such as Elianova Krevki, who is part celestial.

Multiple of the people on this list have changed their names to blend in with everyday society, such as Alina Sunover, who changed her name to Kit Holloway, and Rebekah Solenski who changed hers to Anika Summers. Pytor Romanov is also trying to pass as a Spiderman variant, proof that our heroes MIGHT BE just as untrustworthy as the supposed villains they fight

The Smith/Farley siblings, assassins and mutants who have meddled with time and space in their own rights, especially with Valerie Smith’s connection to Willow Stark, previously mentioned on this list, and the new Ronin terrorist who has been confirmed not to be Clint Barton. Moth Rogers is known to be connected to the Lehnsherr-Barnes family, another hive of suspicion and doubt.

Even further proof shows that Evelyn Lune, one of our own Avengers, has a darker side still loyal to HYDRA that could ALLEGEDLY snap at any moment. Similarly with Nadia Stark and an alternate version of James Barnes who still work occasonally with the group. These people are POTENTIALLY untrustworthy and a POSSIBLE threat, and in fact many Avengers were once members of HYDRA and the Red Room are now Avengers or close to the Avengers, such as Natasha Afiona, Charlotte Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Barnes and many more. The controversies just keep piling up.

Many of these members have direct and indirect familial or social ties with one another, and there are rarely ones by themselves. Whatever the case, these people were raised or trained by dangerous groups who wish to control world politics and bring about an end to democracy and the world as we know it, thus making them a POSSIBLE threat and liability to a safe America.

So what can you do to stop this threat? Well we at the Daily Bugle believe an official and public registration for these people should be in order, so call up your local representatives, send messages and open letters. If you see anyone who looks suspicious or out of place, do not feel afraid to inform the authorities, or your neighbours who might be at risk. Remember: these files are not complete and these POTENTIALLY dangerous people are most likely not the only ones out there, so stay alert and stay safe. Many are calling into question President Barnes’s leadership, especially since his sudden departure and reappearance at the White House after our last article about his family. He may not be able to handle this problem considering his personal investment in keeping this story quiet, but the Daily Bugle will not be quiet! To join our daily newsletter comment underneath one of our posts to be added to the list. Be sure to comment your thoughts about the threat HYDRA and the Red Room still pose below, or leave an anonymous submission to get potentially featured in a later news story.

And before anyone asks, I made sure that my lead editor was off sick while publishing this so you will not be hearing from him. The truth deserves to be known. Also no I do not proof read my writing, that's for people with the woke mind virus

– J Jonah Jameson

@playingwithwater @the-best-black-widow @your-fav-russian-assassin @over-bi-the-wayside @natt-romanoff @official-tasha-romanoff @official-natasha-romanova @elia-theassassin @thecrazyrplayerosie @project-traveler @live-to-see-another-death @alenaswidowbytes @natalia-reflecting @natalia-alianova-romanova @redroom-peterparker @doctor-mindweaver @official-buckybarnes @nadia-stark-official @hydra-bucky @androva-thewidow @alena-kotich @the-cheesy-romanova-campbell @the-good-redheaded-witch @alenaswidowbytes @little-lost-prince @hydra-handler @thatone-midgardian @project-traveler @reia-creations @multifandomer537 @oh-to-be-a-murderer @dont-touch-my-gun @daniel-barnes-the-ghost @ghostblade-official @handler-benjamin @capt-scarlett-frey @luke-lee-lawrence @c4m3r0n-st0n3 @cypherlune @jade-lopez-maximoff @official-pietro-maximoff @silentdeath-a175 @story-from-hr @guardianof4elements @the-best-duck-tamer @backupwintersoldier @jamie-todd-red-knight

//if I forgot anyone im sorry this one had a lot of people in it, also as always none of this is meant JJJ is just an asshole who hates everyone. also sorry this took so long to make i got rlly sick but IM BACK NOW IDIOTS SO MORE FAKE AND BAD NEWS FROM OUR LEAST FAVOURITE NEWS GUY. Don't worry about lead editor Jay, he has been cursed with the same cold as me

#the daily bugle #hydra #the red room #marvel roleplay #mcu rp #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel rp #marvel mcu #mcu roleplay #mcu #news story

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samodivaa · 1 year ago

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Training Techniques

Winter Soldier x Reader He is not allowed to move an inch—he can only watch you pleasure yourself—but why is there a ring on your finger?

Warnings - smut, light angst, mastrubation(f), rough sex, choking, breeding kink Words - 2600 ⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ You have absolutely no pleasure in the work in which you sometimes so madly indulge—training the assets with delicacy of words with which their handlers don’t approve of—Soldat is your favorite, with his expression of endless and unconditional gratitude and a silent promise of complicity unto death—he may not remember your face, but he always remembers your voice, its' gentleness. The soporific air of your room, in the soft breath of bread and sweets—he was sent there, because he was misbehaving again.

It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that you have periled this life and reputation—but here you are—on your bed trying to sleep when you see him sitting on the chair, waiting. And this isn't a romance. You're not a damsel in distress and he is not the handsome prince who comes to save you—this is his desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of the impending doom, but they didn’t know that.

You know.

He can't stop looking at you—Soldat is gazing at a distant star. It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago, because he is not allowed to move until you instruct him to.

Subconsciously, he licks his lips at the sight at your body in a night dress and wonder if he will ever just cum in your mouth as you suck him off to your knees…or if he’ll take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. It doesn’t seem worth the risk —but he wanted this for so long now, he needs to voice it.

“Please-” —an irrational and indulgent mistake. you stand up on your elbows in shock at the word he utters—his eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and his lips twitch. Soldat has fallen into a state of feverish lust, but that is not a justification for his disobedience. His heart goes into a shameless delirium when your eyes meet. “Desperate?” you mock, but underneath the mockery Soldat finds a reservoir of understanding. You lay back on the bed as nothing has happened, and your voice takes on a restful strength “I still need to punish you for that, Winter” He behaves as naturally, with such discretion, that he does not lose his composure, not even when you remove your wedding ring—who committed the impertinence of marrying you? He goes through a crisis of disappointment, fury, jealousy, but this is your way of giving Soldat a layer of respect—he wants to call it loyalty. And maybe you can be his or maybe you will be entwined in this sexless foreplay tonight.

He wants to ask so many questions, but he can’t. Not now. There is a pent-up curiosity, hysteria of his unsatisfied needs, unnaturally suppressed communion and also a kind of tense respect, because if he is obedient enough—he will be rewarded.

“You will watch me, that's all you will do for now” you say, your voice has sunk to a whisper. Your words stoke a warmness in his stomach, a fire in his crotch. And he doesn’t care what you will do with him—even if you want to cut him, sharpen him however you please—that's all he knows anyways. He wants this memory to stay what it is, one intense moment, something that is strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Your room has turned into an idyllic paradise for a good many years, your skin glistening in the light coming from the slits in the blinds as your hands play with your breast through the nightgown. He has lost his voice and a thread of cold sweat runs down the path of his spine, suffocating with heat, because of the black leather clothes—the stiff collar and the tight harness that is restricting his breathing, is becoming increasingly annoying.

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, and for the first time, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning—he needs to be patient, but it’s hard—not harder than his cock—It's more erotic, more intense to watch you touch yourself. He is master of what he does, but never of what he desires. You are greatly overestimating his self-control. But this is what you are testing tonight—his ability to subordinate the impulse to fuck you. Self-control might be as passionate and as active as the surrender to passion, but you need to show him who is in charge while your panties are becoming steadily slicker. All you need to do is to tell him to come, but you refrain from doing the thing you want so badly—to be consumed by Winter. You glance up to find his eyes blazing with raw need—blue orbits pleading for you to command him. You spread your legs open, positioning yourself in front of him—one hand still toying with your nipple while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drag them down your legs slowly before throwing them in his direction. His breath stutters as they land on his left boot and Soldat eyes them wickedly, knowing that all he can do is watch.

"Good, very good, Soldat '' you coo, sliding two fingers into your core, scissoring and stretching, curling over the one sweet spot—imagining his metal digits. You remove them as your index finger takes their place, rubbing slow, torturous circles on your clit, sliding down to tease your opening, then back up. Over and over again.

He slides his tongue across his teeth, remembering the taste of your nectar, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft.

“I want you so much, gosh” he is stirred by the lust in your smooth voice. You are breathing deep with your mouth wide open—he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t dare blink. Soldat can swear he feels the pressure of your palms on his cheeks—or is it a memory? Everything is a memory to him. “I want you here, fucking me” There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

With the auspicious attention of a strained killing machine, he examines your fingers, your shivering body and listens to your muffled moans meticulously. It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion to his mind—your scandalous behavior is pulling at every string of his nerves and self-control.

It is such a prolonged act, so meticulous, so rich in all aspects as you are giving yourself over to the deserved adoration of your own body and pleasure. It leaves Soldat breathless at the tremendous spectacle of your nudity and lack of shame as you bring yourself closer to the edge.

“Jesus-I am so close” You confess, surprised at how fast the arousal is budding. You arch your back and hips buckle like an electric current runs through your body, moaning, rubbing your clit faster, forcing yourself to let out a louder moan. The orgasm wrecks your body from head to toe and being watched by a ferocious male is exciting—all he needs is a feeling as primitive and as simple as that of love.

You see his eyes, still unblinking and you feel menaced by some invisible danger—you are keenly aware of every movement, every breath you take. Lust is a weed that grows in the vacant lots of an abandoned mind and the stacks of bad words that you have been forced to swallow, spills “Soldat, come here” you command, languid and serious.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs, getting up and slowly coming towards the bed as his thick, black pants fall to the floor around his feet, the belt clattering noisily. Winter craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. He breathes, his chest rising and falling so close to yours.

“Kiss m-” you whisper the words, and before you even finish saying them, his mouth is on yours and you are melting under his lips, eyes flutter shut—and it is blissful oblivion—giving you the most intense and explosive kiss you two have ever shared. With the coldness of his lips and the warmth of his tongue beneath yours, you vow an endless bliss. He pulls back with a groan—Winter’s sky-blue eyes stare back into yours, and in his eyes you can see no parting from you. You put your hands on either side of his face, and the room falls away. You have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And the kiss is not gentle. It is a wrestle of who would lead the excursion into the territory of passion and ecstasy, heat and unending craving for one another. You suck on his lower lip between your teeth and he lets out a low groan. It sounds almost aggravated and definitely impatient. Fire looks into his quiet eyes, touches his dear, familiar face—you lean upwards for a moment and dip your head towards his ear, grazing his soft skin with your teeth, while your hand slides to the harness. Soldat stills, angling his mouth towards your bare, perfect neck. You feel a warm slickness on your skin, his tongue trailing a path towards your shoulder.

It is a wild, animalistic compulsion, an urgent need as he suddenly slots himself between your legs and you turn your head away. Your fear is returning, crawling through your limbs and leaving you numb to everything. You shut your eyes, gripping the sheets, and whimper when he pushes himself inside you. He releases a ragged breath before moving, slow but with purpose, and you simply take it with soft whimpers and gasps as he pumps in and out of you, now starting to set a steady pace. His eyes, the blue completely gone from his them, soften for a moment and he kisses you tenderly before he whispers in your ear, his breath puffs against your skin. He spends a good amount of time on your neck, a brief stop at the base of your throat—he wants to bite you, but he can’t—something melts inside Soldat that hurts in an exquisite way—you are not his. “Who did you marry, Snow White?” He asks, voice throbbing with menace—before slipping inside you again and burying himself to the hilt. Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming. He is so far in that his balls are right against your lips. You arch your back and moan “It doesn’t matter” as he slides back out nearly all the way before slamming into you hard and fast. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slams into you over and over, the only sound in the room is the skin slapping. You close your eyes and swallow. Your mouth parts and stills—your voice is barely a whisper as his tip touches your cervix. “Pierce…I am closer to ruining his plans, closer to freeing you” Despite your eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear runs out of your eye. You are so angry that it has escaped—so angry—he stops his trusts completely. You moan as you feel his movement out of you. Then, as he almost has the tip fully out, he slaps it back in. When your eyes meet his gaze as you are sitting here staring at each other, time stops. Your fingertips reach to trace the metal shoulder, but he grasps your hand with his own. He leans down, far enough that the ends of his hair brush feather-light against your face, catching in your lashes and tears.

His breath, warm and measured, hits your cheek. Two breaths. Three. Then you stop breathing, and a second later, you feel his lips on your mouth. It is hungry, desperate. His metal hand wraps around your neck, thumb presses into the skin—you moan, it ripples over your nerve endings. His breath caresses your ear again—his grip on your neck tightens. And this makes you always still and submit…the act of Winter taking shameful, contemptuous possession of you is the kind of rapture you want.

“Next time-” you try, but with your restricted of oxygen brain, you are not able to. He tastes passion. He tastes lust. He tastes his power over you. He tastes a world of stimulants he’d never imagined. You are right there in front of him, he can do whatever he wants. Winter loosens his hold—only to observe you as you breathe raggedly, sliding down slowly, a moan ripping from your throat.

“Next time he calls you in his house, I will be there, too”

I have nothing to give but my heart so full and these empty hands.

“I need to kill them one by one, Winter” His mouth curves into a smile—his eyes are light blue and dancing with life. He pauses for only a fraction of a second. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to yours "Okay, yeah, yeah" a devil-soft whisper. He blinks several times like he is trying to comprehend your plan word by word. His trusts become so hormonal—you want his roughness. His other hand slips to your waist, pushing you into the mattress as he fucks you. For him, sex intimately relates to the most primitive kind of human contact, which can satisfy all of his needs he has been deprived from. "Winter " you gaspe breathlessly "Slow down" You try to let out a choked squeal, but his metal hand tightens around your neck again, muffling any sounds, your toes curling as he brings you steadily closer and closer to orgasm, reeling from the thrill and the fear from both his forceful thrusts of his powerful hips and the choking. Soldat is unrelenting in his domination of your body. But you are his at this moment, your cunt clenching around him while you mewls and grunts fill his ears, he can’t slow down even one bit. Logic would say that this is insane, every other fibre of his being says it's right—he has to fill you up. You can't move. You can't breathe. And his pace. And the adrenaline. “I will cum inside—dear Snow White” This is his demarcation line, all of a sudden it seems unfair to withhold it from you. Your inner muscles tighten as waves of pleasure start to build and ripple out. You don’t normally get off this fast, but you are lost in the exquisite sensations—you put your hands on his metal arm as your body bursts into flames, your fingers curling into the metal. You can’t make a sound and it is a shame, because it is the best orgasm you ever had. It is unbearable, unreal, unimaginable—it is too much as your eyes can only see darkness due to the choking. You can only hear a broken and hoarse cry escaping his lips, his warm come filling you up completely.

You can hear his breath, as your vision slowly becomes solid—a stray lock of dark hair falls into his eyes as he is looking down—he moves his hips back and then into you again, enjoying his cock being in a tub of cum, swimming in your honey.

#I WAS POSSESSED #but this is real #metal arm kink fr #winter soldier x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic #winter soldier fanfiction #smut #slight angst #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 months ago

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Soldat -Oneshot

Word count: 2643 **This is a different version of Soldat x chubby!reader than “Zhihn Moya.”**

Y/N ran as fast as she could, trying to keep up with Alexander Pierce as they turned a corner. Yelling and loud thumps of bodies being thrown around echoed through the basement as they entered the room they were keeping the Asset in.

“Why is he out of cryo without me supervising?” Y/N asked in anger.

“New mission. Just contain him!” Pierce yelled at her.

She glared at him then focused back on the Asset. He was shirtless, standing but slightly crouched near the opposite wall, his hair and body wet with sweat and the ice melting off him, shivering and breathing heavily as his wide eyes flicked across the room, ready to spring at whoever came close to him next. Three scientists' bodies were behind her, groaning in pain or completely passed out from being thrown across the room. Four handlers were facing him, their taser batons raised and pointing at him. Y/N raised her hands in surrender and slowly approached.

“Soldat!” she called out. His eyes snapped to her, a flicker of recognition in them, but his stance didn’t let up. “Stand down,” she said, touching the shoulder of the nearest handler. “Put your weapons down, now!” They all gawked at her, glancing at Pierce who reiterated her order and then they slowly lowered their weapons and backed away behind her. She took a few more steps toward him, and he watched her, assessing whether she was a threat or not. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she said quietly. “I’m here to help you.” She stopped within three feet of him and held out her hand. “Just a little pinch and it’ll all be over, remember?”

His eyes blinked rapidly at that phrase, and his face twitched as his mind worked hard to make sense of what was happening. Y/N felt bad for the man. She wasn’t allowed to know anything about him other than his medical history. Her job was to bring him out of cryo containment safely and efficiently. Obviously they had pulled him out without the proper procedure, causing him to become volatile. If she had a choice she wouldn’t be here, but she was just as much a prisoner as he was, used for her skill set and forced to do things she would never do under normal circumstances. She took a deep breath and a small step forward, and his stance started to relax. “That’s right, Soldat, very good,” she said, using praise to reassure him.

His face softened as he stared at her, his brow upturned and a frown on his lips. His metal hand raised, and he slowly reached out until he laid his hand in her palm. She gave him a smile, her fingers wrapping around his hand gently. “Good, Soldat, good,” she said, slightly pulling him toward her. “Come sit and I’ll take care of it.”

He minutely nodded, letting her pull him toward the chair in the center of the room. The handlers and Pierce all watched silently as she had him sit, then grabbed a towel nearby from the cryo kit that they had neglected and wrapped it around his shoulders, wiping off his hair, face and over his upper body as best as she could. She took the saline drip and set it up near him, inserting it into a vein in his flesh arm as carefully and gently as she could to help him get some fluids. She did a quick medical check up on him, and when she was finished turned to Pierce.

“He’s healthy, no thanks to any of you,” she seethed. “Once again, if you want him to come out of cryo in a stable state you have to do it the right way, or else you’ll keep losing scientists and handlers,” she gestured to the scientists still passed out cold on the floor. “He’s still a human underneath all this. His body and mind need time to recuperate.”

Pierce approached her, his gaze flitting back and forth between her and the Soldat. “He seems to have formed an attachment to you,” he said. “I wonder…” He slightly turned then backhanded Y/N. She yelped and stumbled back, falling at the Soldat’s feet, who was across the room in two strides and holding Pierce by the throat.

“Stand down!” Pierce choked, clawing at the metal hand. The handlers all started yelling and screaming at the Soldat, who didn’t seem to hear any of them as he pushed Pierce against the wall and off his feet. Pierce’s eyes were going bloodshot as he looked at Y/N. “Call him off, or your family’s dead!”

Y/N was crying, holding her cheek as she tasted blood on her lip. “Soldat,” she tried to speak loudly, but it came out as a sobbed whimper. He immediately turned to look at her. “Let him go,” she cried.

He dropped Pierce and walked back over to her. As Pierce coughed and wheezed by the wall the Soldat stooped down in front of her. His hands cupped her face, inspecting where Pierce hit her, his flesh thumb wiping at the blood on her split lip then using the towel hanging off his shoulder to wipe it off gently.

“For fuck’s sake,” Pierce said, clearing his throat and getting help standing up from one of the handlers. “We wipe his mind but he still has a bleeding heart.”

Y/N cried harder, knowing that Pierce had found a new motivation for the Soldat to do Hydra’s bidding: her. The Soldat kept looking at her intently, and she could see the war in his eyes, like he knew that he knew her but couldn’t place from where or what. All he knew was that she had taken care of him, and she was the only one treating him with any decency or kindness. She gripped his wrists, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Tell him to get in the chair,” Pierce barked at her.

She swallowed hard, giving the Soldat as sorry an expression as she could. They were going to wipe him again, drain what little humanity they could out of him and make him do unspeakable things. She could see his fear as his gaze flickered to the chair with the machine attached to it behind her.

“Soldat, please,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

His jaw ticked, his fingers tightening slightly on her face, but he looked resigned as he let go of her and stood, walking to the chair and sitting back down in it. The handlers made him sit back in the chair, and just as he was about to try and squirm away Pierce hauled Y/N on her feet and pointed a gun at her head. The Soldat glared at him, stiffening in the seat.

“Be good, Soldat, and sit still,” Pierce said patronizingly. “Unless you want her brains on the floor.”

His gaze met hers, and the tortured, wounded look reappeared. Y/N was still crying, wishing she could do something, anything, to save him. She tried giving him a reassuring smile, and unless her mind was playing tricks on her, she saw the slightest lift of his lips back at her. He leaned back into the chair, letting the handlers strap him down and put a mouthguard between his teeth.

“Wipe him,” Pierce said, and they pushed a button on the machine, making it come to life. The Soldat’s breathing became heavier again, his body remembering what the machine meant as the panic settled into him. The machine’s arms set two face plates on either side of his head, and as the machine shocked him he let out a muffled scream.

Y/N struggled against Pierce’s hold, wanting to run away or get him out of there. “Now now, Miss Y/L/N,” he said lowly, keeping his gun against her head. “Remember your place and his. He is the fist of Hydra, and you are only here to make sure he can be the weapon we need him to be. If you find yourself unable to do so, or you try to pull any funny business in helping him, your family will be killed, and maybe we’ll give you as a little treat to the Asset right after he’s wiped, then make him kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

The Soldat continued to scream, his body shaking and twitching as the machine continued its horrific zapping and buzzing sounds. Y/N nodded, her heart sinking at the sight, and as the proof of any humane life drained from his eyes, so did any of the hope she had left. “Yes, sir,” she replied.

***

Y/N could have never predicted that just a few days later Hydra would fall. The Soldat was in the wind, and she was able to slip away as the inner workings of Hydra scrambled to go into hiding and rework themselves underground. She tried returning to her family, only to find out that Hydra had already killed them long before, and had been using her ignorance of their deaths as a pawn all this time. She felt incredible anger and guilt at what she had been coerced and forced to do, and wished she could find the Soldat and apologize.

She tried to restart her life, changing her middle and last name and relocating to another country. She had always wanted to see Scotland, and found a job as a medical assistant in Edinburgh. For the next ten years she tried to wash away the memory and sins of her past. She made new friends, and tried to date, but just couldn’t seem to let herself love anyone. She was too afraid to let anyone in again, in case Hydra ever found her and tried to drag her back into the organization.

She had seen news reports about what had happened after Hydra was revealed, and learned that the Soldat was actually James Buchanan Barnes, the lost Howling Commando and best friend to Captain America. As much as she wanted to try reaching out to him, to apologize, to check up on him and see how he was doing, anything, she didn’t feel like it was her place. He was free from Hydra, and she didn’t want to open old wounds and retraumatize him.

One day as she was out grocery shopping on a rare day off, pushing her shopping trolley back home from the shop, she kept getting the feeling that she was being watched. She looked around subtly, trying to pinpoint where it could be coming from, but didn’t find anything. She kept looking over her shoulder the whole way home, sighing heavily when she was able to close and lock the door to her apartment. As she unloaded everything from her trolley and started pulling things out for dinner, she felt the feeling again and stiffened. Someone was in the house. She didn’t know why or how she knew, she just did. She reached toward the knife block on the counter.

“That won’t help you,” a voice called out.

Y/N whipped herself around and gasped. Her eyes bulged, her mouth dropping open at the sight of the man sitting at the kitchen island behind her. “S-soldat?” she whispered.

He smirked at her. “It’s actually Bucky,” he said.

She looked him over, her panic slightly lessening but still on high alert. His hair was short, his beard grown in and slightly greying along his chin. He had a teasing look on his face as he watched her, and the silver hand that she was expecting was now a charcoal color with gold peeking through the plates on his fingers. He slowly stood and walked around the island toward her. She backed up against the counter, unsure of what was going on.

“You’re…are you…” she paused, swallowing harshly.

“I’m out,” he said quietly. “I’m free. And I’m glad to see you’re out, too.” He stopped about a foot away from her and held out his flesh hand. “Bucky Barnes.”

Y/N scoffed, glancing at his hand then reaching her hand out to shake it. “Y/N Y/L/N,” she greeted him. “It’s nice to officially meet you.”

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Look, I know it’s weird for me to just show up like this. I just wanted to find you and thank you for all you did for me back then.” He was still holding her hand and looked down at it, repositioning his hand to hold hers and run his thumb along her knuckles. “You were…a bright light for me. The only kind voice I’d heard and gentle hand I’d felt in decades. I’m sorry for all they put you through because of me–”

“Don’t,” Y/N said, interrupting him and taking a step forward. “None of that was your fault. I don’t blame you for any of it. Can you forgive me for ever being a part of it?”

Bucky frowned and shook his head, bringing their joined hands to his chest. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said. “We were both forced into doing things we didn’t want to do. I don’t blame you for any of it, either.”

Y/N didn’t realize she was crying until his metal hand cupped the side of her face and wiped away a tear. His metal thumb swiped at the spot along her lip where she had bled after Pierce slapped her, his eyes conveying how much he remembered that last day they’d seen each other. She inhaled shakily, trying to relax after the confusing swirl of emotions she was feeling. Relief, first and foremost, at finally feeling like she had made some kind of difference in his life and the fact that he was free now. The dissipating fear from feeling watched, now knowing she wasn’t in danger. And now a strange fluttering in the pit of her stomach that she hadn’t felt in a long time…

Bucky slowly leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers, his gaze flitting across her face, looking cautious and hesitant. “I know we don’t actually know each other, but I’d like to get to know you better. Because if you were able to see and care about me, even then, then I think you might just be a pretty special person that I’d like to have around in my life.”

Y/N smiled up at him, staring deep into his eyes. “I’d like that,” she replied.

He smiled back at her, his eyes focusing on her lips. “There’s that smile,” he mused. “Like sunshine.”

She blushed, her cheeks hurting from how wide she was smiling. “Well aren’t you a charmer?” she giggled.

“I used to be,” he said. “Still working on figuring out who I am now.”

“I’m afraid to tell you that’s gonna be a lifelong pursuit,” Y/N arched an eyebrow at him. “We’re all just figuring out who we are day by day.”

His eyebrows raised at her. “Caring, pretty and philosophical? Girl after my own heart,” he teased.

Y/N’s eyes widened at him. “God, Bucky,” she scoffed, turning away and burying her face into his shoulder to hide her deepening blush.

Bucky laughed, wrapping his arms around her. “Aw, did I get to you? That’s cute,” he said. His arms tightened around her, his hands rubbing up and down her back and then along her sides. “You feel good in my arms, you know that?” he said quietly, humming as she hugged him back. “Pretty sunshine.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head and her breath stuttered. “Are you trying to kill me with all this sweetness?” she murmured against his chest.

“Nah, can’t have you dying on me now, sunshine,” Bucky said. “We’ve got too much time to make up for.”

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #ask #request #anon ask #oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #soldat

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 6 months ago

Text

4: DAYBREAK

Chapter 3 <MASTERLIST > Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Even the Winter Solider needs to recover and recuperate and it gives you the opportunity to discover that there is a man behind the Asset.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning: SMUT: PinV, unprotected intercourse, creampie — If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

There were times when the higher powers of HYDRA took pity on their soldier, giving him time outside of cryostasis. Maybe it was kindness, but you were convinced that it was a reluctant act to protect the welfare of their most prized asset. Allowing the assassin time outside the chamber to refuel and regenerate his body. You had been given instruction to watch the asset, ensure he was fed and monitor for signs of ailments and malady. Karpov had no concerns regarding your physical safety, interested only about preserving his precious weapon. Not once did he contemplate the soldat’s mentality.

You were there when he rose from a fitful slumber at the crack of dawn. It seemed as though his body had forgotten how to access the deeper levels of sleep. He focused his gaze on you as you entered the room, watching as you placed a tray of food on a small table across from him. He seemed different, more present, as though the natural REM cycle of sleep had restored something of himself. However, it didn't seem to have cured his issue of staring, his eyes unblinking as they stayed fixed on you.

As he stared, you noticed more details about his face, the small scars on his cheek that you hadn't noticed before. The way his eyes gleamed in the light was haunting. He seemed like a different person, his focus wasn't as intense or as intimidating. The soldier seemed calmer, more relaxed.

He stood up from the hard wooden frame which had been installed against the wall, fixed to avoid it being used as a weapon against his captors. His eyes darted between you and the door and for a moment you wondered if he was pondering escape. If he was, you were no match for him physically, except for the power of speech. You waited for a reaction, but none came. Only then was it that you realized that he was checking for the presence of others.

“It's just me,” you said in Russian. “Dobroye utro.” (Good morning.)

He blinked, surprised by your use of Russian.

To your amazement, he smiled. “You speak Russian,” he observed.

"Just practicing a few words. Was it that bad?” You blushed, taken aback by his interaction. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t heard you use Russian words before. Did he remember your previous interactions?

He shook his head. “No… no, it was good.”

The way he was staring at you, you could tell he was telling the truth. Did he have the ability to lie? You were surprised by the normality of his speech.

"How... how’re you feeling?"

This might be the first conversation you'd had with the soldier. It felt strange, since you had seen each other naked now.

He looked down for a moment and when he looked back up at you, he seemed a little sad. He shook his head a little. "I'm fine... just wondering why you are being so nice... is this to trick me, like one of HYDRA's games?”

“Game? No game.” You shook your head. “Just doing my job.”

He paused for a moment, his thoughts seemed sluggish and his words slow to form. “Why do you talk to me in Russian? It’s… forbidden. Only the handlers speak to me in Russian.”

“You didn't have any problem speaking to me in Russian last night.”

A hint of a smile graced his lips, and let out a breathy sigh.

“Last night was… really good.”

“You’re a lot more talkative this morning.”

“I had a good night…" He took a step closer to you, his eyes never shifting from yours.

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

He moved in close, his face just inches from your, his perfect pink lips before your eyes, ripe for the capture. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. Anticipation swirled through you, your breath catching as you waited for his next move. A small, confident smile played on his lips as he leaned in even closer. He was close enough to kiss, his hands resting firmly on your hips as he held your gaze. The intensity of his stare left no doubt about his intentions - he was going to take your lips, and there was no hesitation in his mind. Your body buzzed excitedly, your heart pounding, desperate for his kiss.

"Wh-what’re you doing?" you asked, knowing full well what he wanted, you wanted it too.

You closed your eyes. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was fierce, filled with unbridled passion and desire. It was as though you'd unlocked something that had lain dormant inside him for years. His lips move with yours, his metal hand wrapped around your waist, the other one coming up to your neck, pulling you even closer to him. You felt the firmness and warmth of his chest as he held you close. Of all the things you had shared with him in the short time you'd known him, this was the most intimate.

You felt a sense of power in this moment, a sense of comfort, he was giving you something that he had never given anyone else. His hands moved down to your backside as the kiss grew more intense, and you could feel his heart thumping in his chest. You placed your hands on his pecs, free from its usual protective leather, his finely chiseled chest felt solid under your touch.

There was something about the forbidden nature of your relationship that was thrilling, the danger of your actions, the uncertainty of the Soldat’s intentions, the unpredictability of his behavior had awakened a salacious beast inside you and it was hungry for the man before you. His hands squeezed your back and broke away from the kiss, taking a few ragged breaths, before pulling you up against his body again. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were shut tight, almost as though you would disappear if he dared open them. He held you for a few moments in his grip as he leant close and whispered in your ear.

"Your lips are... addictive.”

“Is that why you kissed me?” you asked.

“No, I wanted to know what you tasted like.”

“What do I taste like?”

“Kak moy.” (Like mine.)

You blushed, grazing your teeth over your plump lower lip, trying to hide your smile. He kissed your neck, moving to your earlobe, kissing and nibbling. He murmured something against your ear, so low that you almost missed his words.

“You drive me... insane…”

“And you're going to get us both into trouble.”

There was a playful edge to your voice, he couldn’t deny that he loved the danger. “I'm afraid I'm willing to take that risk... with you…”

His words had your whole body on fire. And you noticed how different he was from his normally stoic demeanor. The passion that burned inside of him seemed to be overflowing, he seemed more wild here than you’d ever seen him. And the more you watched him in this state, the more you wanted him. His hands gripped you tighter as he pulled you in, not letting a moment pass that he wasn't touching you. His voice came out in a soft murmur, low and barely audible.

“God... just touching you, your skin... I can't get enough. You make me feel alive for the first time in my life.”

All you could do was close your eyes, the feeling of his touch, the way he spoke to you and the desperation behind his words made your whole body tingle. It felt like he only needed you, you felt wanted, not as something to possess, to control but to love. His lips were on your neck, slowly making their way to your earlobe, your body was on fire, your heart was ready to explode out of your chest. This was something that felt so right, but also felt forbidden for him, to feel and to want. Your lips found his again as you kissed him passionately.

The man who was usually so strong and rigid couldn't keep himself from you, he clung to you as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded, he was mesmerized by the sheer passion of the moment.

Something felt different about him and you found it more thrilling than before. Your soldier was finally waking up and losing all control. He had no care for anything that might threaten the two of you, all he cared about was holding and kissing you. He was consumed by the fever that had taken hold of his body, blood pumping like crazy, heart pounding so hard you could feel it throbbing as his hands squeezed your body tightly to him.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, breathlessly.

He paused for a moment, breathing heavily. “You.” His whole world was centered around keeping you close

“Why? Why me?”

He kissed your neck again, whispering in a soft voice. “God I don't know... you just… there's something about you... something that drives me... I don't know how to explain it.”

“You're not what I thought you would be.”

He pulled his lips off your neck for a few seconds to answer you. “What... did you think I would be?”

You shrugged. “Cold.”

“Maybe I am… except with you.”

His flesh palm felt like a blazing furnace against your waist but there was a tenderness to his touch that you hadn't anticipated. If anything, the soldier had the ability to take what he wanted. You didn't stand a chance against him physically but you knew you had the real power here. You couldn't help but kiss him back, melting into his arms. You found yourself wrapping yourself around his neck, relishing in how his hard body felt against yours. His grip around you tightened, holding you so close, like he was afraid he might lose you. You were his anchor. A connection to a reality he lost touch with so long ago but this time he couldn’t… wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t fall again.

He kissed you hard, like he couldn’t get enough. Every touch was to commit you to his memory. It sent a shudder running down his spine and his body almost trembled. The loss of control he felt in this moment was completely different to the emptiness that washed over him when Karpov recited those dreaded words. Soldat welcomed the helplessness that his body experienced with you and he was deeply aroused by the idea of surrendering himself to you. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't keep his hands off you, the way you felt in his arms was intoxicating. As you wrapped your legs around his waist, his embrace lifted you clean off the floor. You were his lifeline, his connection to the living world.

His hands were all over you, pushing you down on the bed, delving under your clothes, pawing at your skin like a starved creature. His roughness, his loss of reserve should have frightened you. Truth be told, the whole situation scared you a little. You had never dreamed that this man, this empty tin soldier was capable of such primal passion. But despite your fear, it excited you. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met before, there was a fire burning inside him that lit up his eyes. There was no limit to how far he would go, he had no control and no desire to hold back, every touch had meaning, every kiss had power, his body weighed you down but he pulled you to himself, it's almost as if he was trying to consume you into his body.

There was a certain edge to his actions that were almost desperate, he wanted you so badly that nothing else in your life seemed to matter in that moment. His fingers balled into fists in the thin material of your freshly pressed jumpsuit, and looking directly into your eyes he tore it off your supple frame. The sound of ripping fabric made you shudder with desire and shiver as the cold Siberian air assaulted your uncovered skin.

“Kotyonok,” he hummed into your mouth as he brought one hand between your thighs. Nimble fingers danced over your sensitive flesh, all the while continuing his ministrations with his perfect mouth, tasting your skin. The whimpering moans that tumbled from your lips were out of your control, as was the rest of your body, your clasp on his hair tightening and your pelvis lifting into his covered erection. Instinctively, your legs opened, knees dropping to the side, giving him full access to your core.

You were completely powerless in his arms. He had stripped you down to nothing but his fingers were still caressing your skin, there was a certain kind of urgency as if he knew the two of you wouldn't be able to enjoy this for long. He was devouring your body with his eyes, taking in every small detail that he ignored before, even a tiny scar from your childhood that he never paid attention to previously seemed like an important discovery. He pushed between your legs slowly and carefully, his touch was light as if he was scared to hurt you. Your toes gripped into the sheets as a soft moan escaped your lips.

He let out a small groan as you brushed against him, the sensation nearly sending him over the edge, his breathing shallow and raspy. The way he was grabbing you and holding onto you, you could feel his whole body throb, the fire inside him burning hotter than ever.

“Please.” The plea fell from your lips involuntarily.

Winter froze for a moment, just to look at you. To marvel at the fact of your existence in his life. You were spread bare and unbound just for him, exposed nipples hardening into perfect peaks in the Siberian air, your bra having been quickly shed. Your knees were hooked around his hips, and you dared to meet his eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire. For some reason you trusted him and he found it exhilarating. He ran his finger tips between your breasts, over the curve of your belly, watching closely as you closed your eyes and arched up into his touch with a whine of unadulterated pleasure. His flesh hand pulled apart your clothing further and for a brief moment, you wondered how you would explain your attire to Karpov. The moment was very brief, as your soldier pulled aside the thin swatch of fabric of your soaked cotton panties. The warm scent of your arousal drew him in like a moth to a flame. You were irresistible.

“Tak milo.” (So sweet) He popped his index finger into his mouth, sucking on it like a lollipop, twisting his tongue around it, relishing in your flavor. He needed you, he wanted to taste you so badly, but there wasn’t time. Soldat swiped his fingers across your drenched pussy, collecting the outcome of your arousal before pushing his hands into his pants and coating his rising cock with your essence.

Boldy, you pushed aside his hands and eagerly unbuttoned his pants, spurred on by the salacious smile encouraging your actions. He reveled in the way you took charge as you pulled down his pants and his massive erection sprung free. You gasped. Was it bigger than you remembered? Or was just being at eye level with his cock making you feel small in comparison? But HYDRA had not raised you to shy away from anything, even something as insurmountable as Soldat’s soldier. You licked your lips with the intent of taking him into your mouth, but you were distracted by a faraway noise.

Your startle didn’t go unnoticed.

“Smena karaula,” (Guard change) he reassured you. “The guards.”

You had noticed the guards as you’d entered the wing but they seemed so far away, but the distant clacking of their shoes reminded you of the risk you were taking.

“Don’t worry, they are leaving.” He followed your gaze, tilting his head and listening intently.

“How do you know?”

“They always sound that way during the change.”

“You sure?”

“Da. Ne volnuysya, Kotyonok. Ya pozabochus' o tebe.” (Yes. Don't worry, Kitten. I will take care of you.)

You frowned in confusion at his words. “Maybe we shouldn’t.” Despite your fear, or maybe because of your fear, your pussy throbbed impatiently. Were you getting off on the risk of getting caught? Were you so enthralled by your soldier that you would risk your life just to have him?

The sound of approaching footsteps didn't matter to you, it might have mattered before, but the touch of Winter gave you this overwhelming feeling of being wanted. Something about him brought out your inner wild side, something about him made you want to take risks you'd regret later. The heat was rising between you both just from being close, your eyes locked onto his. Winter gave you that sense of safety and security, like you could be yourself and not have to worry about anything, just enjoy this moment.

“Kotyonok?” He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Did the assassin have the ability to kiss away your fear? His hands roamed over your body, stoking the fire within you, threatening to consume you both, burning away all thought of the threat that loomed nearby. His lips dulled your thoughts and instinctively you reached out to touch him. Soldat let out a shuddering moan as you wrapped your fingers around him.

“Feel good?” you asked, tilting your head.

He licked his lips, hooded eyes opening to look at you before fluttering back closed as you pressed your thumb harder against his tip.

“I asked you a question, Soldat.” You used your other hand to grip his chin gently.

“Da, fuck yes. Feels so .. s-so good, tak khorosho.” His voice became deeper, trailing away from him the more he talked. His words faded into nothing but loud moans.

You couldn’t believe how alive he looked, his skin flushed and his eyes dark. You’d always considered him handsome, but for the first time, you thought he looked so fucking pretty, as he came undone on top of you. His matted hair was stuck to his forehead as sweat glistened all over him. The intensity of his touch, the passion in his eyes both spoke of a man who had known pain and loneliness, but who had found solace in your arms.

Your breathing was erratic, you moaned brazenly as his cock slid through your fingers. You wanted him, despite the danger, despite his magnitude you relished the challenge. You glanced at the door, but his titanium digits were quick to guide your face back towards him.

“Ya sobirayus' sdelat' tebya svoyey.” (I'm going to make you mine)

Your eyes were locked on his, you couldn't look away. You didn't want to look away. His kisses and the sensations they brought had your body shaking, his fingers wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, his other hand was gripping your thigh. His touch was intense, and he was being bold, something he'd never been before. Each touch of his seemed to push you closer and closer to the edge of insanity. The risk of someone walking through that door and finding you both was nothing compared to the pleasure of just letting go and submitting yourself to his desire.

“Inside me,” you demanded, spreading yourself open to him. “Now, I need you now.”

“Da, Kotyonok.” He kissed you again and you can feel him up against you, firm and warm.

The tip of his shaft teased you, taking a moment to slide over you, brushing against every part of you that was aching.

“Vy zadayete temp. YA v tvoyem rasporyazhenii. (You set the pace. I'm yours to control.) I'm yours.” He grabbed your arms and rolled you on top of him.

You slid your swollen lips along him for a few moments, savoring his heat and the way his cock pulsed against you. Every now and again his tip grazed your clit until you wanted to beg him to fill you up, until you’re almost cumming from the briefest of contact.

“Ne drazni menya, Kotyonok.” (Don’t tease me, Kitten.) His hand settled on your hips. “Should I beg?”

You were loving having your way with him, and he let you, as long as it involved him somehow. The feeling of his tip rubbing against you sent shivers up and down your spine and had your eyes drifting shut. The feeling of being on top of him, the dominant position over him just heightened the pleasure you were feeling. You didn't want him to beg for you, although if he did, you'd do anything he told you to do. Your mouth opened to speak as you felt his finger tips touch your waist and your clit.

“Ty takaya chuvstvitel'naya, Kotyonok, moya krasotka.” (You’re so sensitive, Kitten, my pretty girl.)

In that moment, the way he said those words made you melt inside. You still didn't understand Russian, but you understood him. A soft moan escaped your lips as your eyes opened only to meet his once again. The intensity of his touch was more than you could bear but you needed it more and more, the deeper into it you went. Your breath was quickening, you were losing all control.

“Tebe nravitsya, kogda ya prikasayus' k tebe zdes'?” (You like when I touch you here?)

You nodded, your eyes drifting closed as the pleasure became overwhelming, you were already at the edge and he knew it, and so did you. You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from the rush of his hands sliding up and down your body. He kept his hand at your waist, your hip bones pressing into his hand giving him all the control he needed. Your body was coiling, his touch was like an addiction, the more you got the more you needed.

“More? Please?” His voice came out in a whisper, using English for once, moaning as you took him deeper. He wanted to feel your pussy wrapped tightly around him so badly, he wanted you to squeeze his cock until he was completely empty. “Pozhaluysta, Kotyonok (Please, Kitten). I want to be inside you.”

Your eyes flared open when you heard those words, there was something in his voice, a hint of desperation that made you weak. Every inch of you was begging for it. You leaned down to kiss him while your legs straddled him firmly, while his hands moved to maneuver your hips. Your hand guided him to where he needed to be, his palm came to rest on yours, helping you, making the movement more erotic, more intimate.

Were you really doing this? Were you really fucking the Winter Soldier? His length stretched you until he was filling you completely. A whimper escaped your mouth at the same time an involuntary grunt fell from his. Was this real? You looked into his icy blue eyes for confirmation.

“Ty ne perestaval dumat' obo mne so vcherashnego dnya, ne tak li?” (You haven’t stopped thinking about me since yesterday, have you?)

Your breath caught as you gazed into his eyes, captivated by his magnetic presence. Since your first encounter, he consumed your every thought, his allure bordering on obsession. Your body reacted in kind, the intensity of your desire causing you to moan uncontrollably. His hands gripped your hips, perfectly positioned to command the force and rhythm of your shared movements. Passion and desperation fueled the fervor of his touch.

“Ty menya portish', Kotyonok.” (You’re making a mess on me, Kitten.)

The more he moved, the more you wanted him. The more he took, the more you melted into his body. Your body was throbbing and your heart was racing, and all you had were incoherent noises coming from your mouth. When it got to be too much, you leaned in close to him and spoke.

“Please!” you begged, breathless. “I need you, fill me up, please.”

“Ostorozhno, Kotyonok.” (Careful, Kitten.) He pulled you down towards him, claiming your lips with his, swallowing the volume of your pleasure.

It was so much all at once, a wave of pleasure washed over your entire body and you were shaking. But there was a look in his eyes, a look you could have gotten lost in. The way he pressed his fingers against your lips, the way he begged you to be quiet. His mouth covered yours and all you could hear was his breathing getting heavier. He was so vulnerable with you, so trusting of you. And that thought made you want to scream. He made you lose all control.

It felt like a rush. It was all at once and you were left panting, completely exhausted and utterly speechless. He was still underneath you, his breath was heavy and his eyes were closed. He looked peaceful underneath you, almost like he trusted you to take care of him. In return, he had you.

Chapter 3 <MASTERLIST > Chapter 5

#winter soldier smut #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #behind blue eyes

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sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan · 1 year ago

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More in depth analysis about the Spy x Family Manga Cover Chairs and Bonus Artworks (Or me just overthinking Endo’s decisions in everything and as always long post, please bear with me)

So I wanted to talk about something that I noticed about the various designer chairs that is featured on all manga covers.

Endo did say that he thought about how each chair matches the personality of the character, regarding it’s style, design or the color.

But I like to talk about something different about the chairs-it’s size or the seating capacity and how it reflects the characters relationship with others or their views about relationships. Also, I’m going to share something significant about the comedic bonus arts that also feature the chairs.

This focus mainly about Loid, Yor and Anya‘s Chair (including Fiona’s Chair) and the bonus illustrations that came with it.

Volume 1-Loid’s Chair: Le Corbusier LC2

There are two versions of this chair in the manga/anime, the love seat and the one seater. Loid is seated in the one seater chair in this cover, it means no one can sit there with him that reflects how reluctant he was in letting other people in his life. He wasn’t open for relationships (You can notice that those who are like him, intelligence assets; Franky, Fiona, Handler all sit in one seating capacity chair).

The bonus artwork was Anya sitting on the chair copying his pose. She’s the most fitting person to be in this seat because she can see through Loid’s mind, she basically knows who he really is and she likes him for that. Anya was fond of spies and she was excited about being part of his mission.

Volume 2-Anya’s Chair: Marshmallow Sofa

Anya’s chair has a large seating capacity and she was sitting at the middle, waiting for the empty spots on her both sides to be occupied. This depicts Anya’s anticipation for forming relationship with other people, about her wanting parents, a family, to be there for her.

The bonus artwork was drunk Yor lying face flat on Anya’s chair. This artwork, for me, reflects Yor’s unwavering affection for Anya and Anya’s appreciation of Yor. Even drunk, she’s determined to protect her, as if she was her real daughter as seen during the castle chapter. She is fond of Anya.

Volume 3-Yor’s Chair: La Chaise (Featuring Fiona’s Heart Cone Chair)

This is the chair I wanted to talk about and I have to use Fiona’s Chair for this analysis for Endo said that Fiona is designed to be Yor’s contrast and we can clearly see it in their chairs.

The seating capacity of Yor and Fiona’s chair greatly differ. Yor’s chair was big, Endo pointed how it didn’t even fit the cover, and even though Fiona’s chair is big too, she’s the only person who could sit in it. Other people can fit Yor’s chair but not with Fiona. I analyze this as Yor being open to genuine relationships and selfless while Fiona being closed off and selfish.

We know Yor’s motivation for being an assassin was for Yuri, for the sake of other people, and what is Fiona’s motivation? Clearly it was mainly for Twilight to marry her, love her and it was evidently show with all that stuff hiding behind her chair. I’m sure she experienced a lot of traumatic stuff that led to her being a spy but I don’t see other praise worthy and selfless motivations from her that was aside Twilight’s affection. Don’t get me wrong, she’s an interesting character and she isn't a bad person but I’m not really a fan of her personality just like I don’t like Yuri’s obsession with her sister.

In Yor however, she has nothing under or behind her chair. Just that blood that wasn’t even behind or below her chair. She wasn’t faking anything about her personality. It’s true that she accepted her marriage to preserve her assassin job but she genuinely wanted to marry Loid because he was the one who acknowledged her selflessness and that was enough for her to completely entrust her life to him. She welcomed Loid and Anya to her life because her longing for a companion to share her life with is as big as the size of her chair.

The bonus art in Volume 3 was Loid sitting on her chair. Despite the comedic set up of these illustrations, I think the people who tend to sit on the chair on the bonus arts were the ones who gets the person on the cover the most.

That is why Anya is in Loid’s (Because she can read his mind) Why Yor is in Anya's (Because Yor lost her parents at a young age too and she knows how to care for Anya because she did that to Yuri) and why Loid is in Yor’s chair (Because Loid understood her self sacrifice because he too, is the same as her) Also why Anya and Bond are in the bonus of Volume 4 because the two of them get each other, being both experimented on.

I also have some analysis about Volume 5-12 and the bonus artworks as well, but I might post them in another time since I haven't seen the translated bonus artworks in Becky and Emile and Ewen's Volumes.

But let me know if this analysis makes sense to you.

#spy x family #spy x family manga #anya forger #loid forger #yor forger #twilight #twiyor #spy x family anime #sxf anime #sxf manga #sxf thoughts #sxf analysis #The chairs are really playing significant roles in their character #Endo must've spent a lot of time thinking about it #Everything about the chairs just fits them #I'm excited to see who's going to be on Volume 13's cover #But my hunch would be either Henderson or we will repeat a character

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booksandabeer · 12 days ago

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Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

#stucky #peter parker #stucky fic rec #steve rogers #bucky barnes #fic recs

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pampanope · 8 months ago

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Dadler and Graveson AU:

Honestly, Adler would have Shepherd dead to rights. No way Mr. Shady AF CIA Handler, a pro at gaslighting and manipulating, gifted at squeezing the most out of his assets, wouldn’t do a deep background check on Shepherd, find his skeletons, put two and two together and go “ABSOLUTELY NOT”. Like recognizes like after all.

Graves: Okay, so, after a lot of searching I’ve finally got a real promising backer for Shadow Company; 2 Star Army General Hershel Shepherd. Heard of him?

Adler: …No. Can’t say I have.

Graves: Well, he’s willing to fund a chunk of the start-up costs. I think I’ll take him up on his offer.

Adler: Right…Sounds good…I’ll be right back, son. -Slinks away into his office-

The next day:

Adler: -visibly sleepy with bloodshot eyes- Listen, I don’t think he’s the right fit for what you have planned. If you want a financial backer, I have several connections you can choose from. General Shepherd might not be…around soon.

Graves: -stare-

Graves: …What did you do?

Adler: -innocently leans back in his armchair oozing satisfaction- I don’t know what you mean, son.

Graves: -dramatic sigh- No! Dad, you can’t just keep disappearing anyone you want—!

#look Adler shows he cares in his own way 🤷‍♀️#but i feel like he’s right in this case lol #russell adler #phillip graves #call of duty #cod cold war #mw2 #thoughts

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brokenpieces-72 · 7 months ago

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May I present an idea to you:

Hybrid Sharkgirl reader.

…okay this is a new one… sounds fun.

Not sure how the rules are gonna work with this but why don’t we have a little road trip? Going to include Spirit (callsign of the Jackalope reader).

Macho

You were told you would be shipped out, quite literally to the middle of the ocean. You proved yourself in more ways than one among the rest of the men on board. Your navigation and hunting skills made care for your hybrid features easier.

Your features include gills on your neck, and smoother skin. Your teeth are sharp, and your eyes are fairly dark. When you hit the water, your have a much easier time moving around, your reflexes unmatched by any human underwater. This is part of having a tail that you can shift to when you want, making you merfolk in species. Finding underwater mines, doing underwater repairs to the ship and showing great skills in search and rescue made you a highly valuable asset. The men and women on board showed you respect, and most of your time was spent eating or hunting underwater if not exploring. You’d earned the call sign Macho.

You got word that some hybrids would be visiting the ship why they were sending them you don’t really know. You overhear them mentioning the program you had been a part of. Your mentor tells you it won’t be to replace you or anything, knowing you had overheard some of the crew suggesting it. Apparently they had a hybrid from the same program but it was a land species.

You go with your mentor and the captain to greet the few hybrids they had sent. The chopper landed and out came a large bearded man with horns, a tail and wings-a wing. Followed close was a man with black hair and some facial hair, with jaguar spots along his arms. Behind the both of them you could make out a small shape wearing a poncho.

The captain greets the two men, a captain and a colonel and then greets… a young girl with antlers and rabbit ears, what the heck? Still she stood attention the same as you so she was certainly trained. You’d heard of barrack bunnies but this was definitely not what they meant. She had to be maybe a couple years younger than you, fresh out of the program surely.

The men chat for a while as they walk inside, heading below deck. You walk alongside the girl, Alejandro and Price, called Spirit. The men and your mentor left to talk in private, asking you to stay with Spirit. Wait stay-you’re not a babysitter. Your mentor expresses understanding but suggests talking to Spirit and showing her around would be beneficial. You roll your eyes but agree. Your mentor is grateful, even with the two older newcomers seeming a little unsure.

You show Spirit around the ship and she asks you some questions. Is it comfortable sleeping in such small spaces, how do you play games if the ship rocks constantly, what is cooking meals like, and so on. Reasonable questions, and you can give her the answers. Then she asks about your features. Can you still breathe air okay, do you have a tail, do you hunt like other sharks?

“You ask a lot of questions.” You state bluntly. The girl went a little quieter.

“Should I stop?” She asks nervously. You sigh a little. You could be a little harsh in your tone sometimes.

“Well how would you like it if I asked your some questions. Only fair.” You say shrugging. The girl’s eyes got a little sparkle in them, and then there was a growl. You both froze. Who was that?

Meanwhile your mentor was getting interrogated a little. Alejandro and Price wanted to know about the mentors, retainers, and handlers of the program, and going straight to them was proving fruitless. Having some connections in the military was another direction, one they could walk.

“You’ve never tried to give your ward blood or tried using it to enhance her abilities?” Price asks.

“No, I’d never do that to her. She has enough trouble making friends, if anyone on the crew saw her in a blood craze… to be honest I don’t think we’d see them again.” Your mentor exclaims. It was frustrating to know they’d come all this way only for them to come up short. They hadn’t expected much but they figured bringing Spirit would let her see more of the military life, sniff out what maybe they’d miss. That and having someone interact with another hybrid from program might open some more insight.

“Thank you for your time. We apologize for the accusations.” Price says.

“I understand. We’d heard reports and rumours about your situation. Many were informed by the program to take care and caution with their charges.” Your mentor says.

“Macho is fairing well here, we can assure you.” Your captain says.

“We’ve seen her record. Very impressive, and you clearly run a tight shift here. I commend you.” Alejandro says. “We best be off.”

“We’d need something to eat before we go though. Spirit has an appetite, and it will be a few hours back.” Price says.

You know where the mess hall is, your appetite is pretty big too. Sometimes you’ll go hunting for your own food but the cook on board knows how to make even the most basic of spices work wonders. In that time Spirit had told you plenty about herself and you told her about what you can do. You don’t know if she’s just stroking your ego or if she’s actually impressed but you indulge her.

You keep chatting over food, digging in. Your portions are a good size and the cook isn’t about to stop you from taking seconds before everyone else is served. Hearing the number of different hybrids Spirit works with has you a little jealous. Wraiths were rare but sounded really badass. A harpy? You weren’t sure about that, you had some ugly experiences with harpies when you were younger, mostly picking on you. How the heck was her brother a werewolf? Oh adoption, wait she’s been adopted!?

“Do you have other hybrids to work with?” She asks. You shrug and stuff your face, and that’s all you have to do. “That sucks.”

“I’m a handful enough, the cook would have to work double time if they had someone with my appetite.” You say, smiling. You weren’t really sure how well you’d far with another shark hybrid. It might get ugly. “After we’re done you wanna see my tail?”

“Wanna see mine?” She asks you excitedly.

After you finish eating you hurry to find your mentor. You needed to take a dingy with you so she could see it better, and you could show off some more. Spirit is following you like a puppy, and you feel like a kid again.

“Can we take a dingy out?” You ask, poking your head out from the doorframe. Your mentor, and Price are on the other side and both look at you and then each other.

“Why?” Your mentor asks, looking back at you.

“I wanna show Spirit my tail!” You say excitedly. Your mentor raises an eyebrow, with a bit of pride in his expression.

“Has she eaten?” Price asks. You nod quickly, before Spirit pokes her head out behind you nodding too.

“Don’t go far.” Your mentor says. You and Spirit cheer and hurry to the deck. You don’t hear your mentor saying he was happy to see such an excited and happy side to you.

When Spirit sees your tail she asks to touch it, and you let her. She’s much more gentle than others had been. Your scars are visible, but you keep it to yourself. Spirit asks if she can go into the water herself, and you tell her it should be fine. Thankfully you hold on to her cause it turns out she can’t swim. You get her back in the dingy right away.

Instead you find everything you think is interesting to show her, coming up and holding them for her to look at. The sea bunnies are her favourite. You take her back to the boat once the sun starts to set. She offers to let you see her form next. You agree and she warns you it can be a little scary.

“Wow you weren’t lying, it is kind of scary.” You say, looking at the wendigo side. It’s much bigger than you were expecting. “It’s badass!”

The Wendigo makes happy chirping noises that reminds you of a dolphin. However she has to shift back because the chopper had returned. Before you say good bye, you give Spirit your number, telling her she can text anytime. You smile and wave to three hybrids as they leave. You’re beaming and looking at your cellphone fondly.

“Make a friend?” Your mentor asks. It’s like you were woken up from something as you realized what had all transpired. You’d made a friend. Holy shit that’s awesome!

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends

#captain john price #cod au #alejandro vargas #cod hybrid au #hybrid au #wendigo jackalope #jackalope hybrid #shark girl #shark hybrid #shark reader #shark girl reader #task force 141 x reader #hybrid reader

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