#Winter Soldier au

[fanaticsnail]

FUCK ME SNAIL!

Donquixote Rosinante: Winter Soldier AU

I am frothing at the mouth over this idea because he deserved so much better than death

not saying that being a winter soldier is better but at least he wouldn't be dead

I am deceased 💀

KNOW THAT I WANT TO WRITE IT SO BAD, HONEY BEE. I know it'd be a lot of work, but I can just hear the little:

"Cora-san?" Law asks with wide eyes, taking a step back and staring up in horror and awe at the man he once knew. His lip shudders at the anguish and pain the ghostly shell of familiarity overcame him at the man before him.

"Who the fuck is 'Cora-san'?" The man clad in black asks coldly before resuming his onslaught of bullets and deflecting attacks from the Heart Pirates rising to their captain's defence.

The voice rang in his mind, causing Law to focus on the tinea whistle recalling him to his youth. Bepo shaking his shoulders while protecting him from harms way did nothing to break him out of his visage. All he could see in place of the man striding towards him with heavy foot-falls was a single phrase that haunted him to this day.

"Leave him alone. He is free." Before a flurry of bullets punctured his minds eye.

Bepo was struck away from his captain with a single whipped gun-lash. A captain who was too distracted by sitting in his memory to notice. A captain who's eyes were now focussed on the black leather military pants in front of his sitting position.

"I'm... I'm your friend," Law tried one final time, peering up at the blonde man who began reaching for him through eyes that reflected nothing but emotionlessness.

"You're my mission, nothing more."

JUST RAAAAAAAAAA. I don't know what to do with this plot swirling around in my head. Do we want it to be a reader fic, or a truly Canon divergent fic focussed on these two meeting up again? There are so many scenes I could write. The "I knew him" before another mind wipe. My gosh. Can you imagine??

[dvchvnde]

EXCERPT: JOHN PRICE, WINTER SOLDIER AU.

You're still getting used to the sight of him—bare faced in patches: the beard shorn off into a mere shadow of what it was before; a choice he'd made for himself after scrubbing down in a long shower, refusing any help or medical aid—and he doesn't make it any easier for you in these brief, uncomfortable stages of acclimation you suffer through.

Hands lashing out into dead air. Fingers catching, unyielding and firm, on your skin. Nails—split and jagged; regrown in patches after being ripped off over and over again (for hree years, is the mocking whisper snaking along the nausea when you look at the pinked-tinged beds)—burrowing into your flesh. Anchoring you in place as he bends down, moulds his frame around you. Malleable shadow eating you whole.

Indomitable.

John Price was always an intimidating man.

Towering. Broad. Gruff. Surly. Mean old man was often thrown around amongst the new recruits, ones too scared to voice what they really thought:

Miserable fucking bastard.

His weight thrown around like an extension of himself—all raw, barely contained anger trembling out through the cracks. Lashing thick, brutal lines across his forehead. In the sharp, downward tug of his mouth tucked behind a bed of brunt umbre hair.

He was difficult to deal with on a good day, even when he'd offer that mocking smile of his. A parody of geniality—lips split upwards like a crocodiles maw.

(come, come, put your hand inside this beasts jaws; he won't bite—)

As fucking if.

You've only known him in pieces. Patches. Barely enough to make a whole picture, but you could still fill in the empty spaces with that grizzled anger of his that seemed to roll off of him in waves.

(no wonder he burns so hot—it's all that fury.)

Mostly, he'd come to dress you down in front of everyone watching. Snapping at the sight of your desk—organised chaos a true oxymoron (and for the most part, that seemed to be what he thought of you: a moron)—and how you handled files, and how you waltzed around like you owned the place—

and do you, sweetheart? do you own this place, mm? is that why you never listen to a goddamn thing i tell you?

All-in-all: a miserable fucking man.

And one made of sharp, brutal contradictions. Paradoxes layered over each other. Sealed with fury—of the righteous, pragmatic kind—and reinforced with an utilitarian core. Forlorn hope in the distinct shape of a man, one always readying himself for a pyrrhic victory (but a victory, nevertheless).

Easy, in hindsight, to deal with when you knew how to navigate the frothing gyre of anger and juxtapositions that made up the man who brute force, physicality, to get what he wanted.

By sharp contrast, the version of him who stands before is more enigmatic than the mangled mess of savagery and labyrinthine defenses. Almost unknowable. Unfathomable.

Even more so when he lifts his hand—scarred up, still blistered and bruised from fighting his way through fire and kin to get to you—and presses those mangled knuckles to the swell of your cheek, as tender as a man like him could ever allow himself to be, and runs a soft, shallow line down the side of your face. Eyes—still that same, dizzying blue—darken into liquid sapphire as he stares at you. Inexplicably soft. Lids crested. Half-mast in pleasure as if staring at your face was relaxing. Comforting.

Something swirls in those deep, endless lagoons. Some implacable emotion—all at once too much; too heavy���frissoning over his feature. A paroxysm. You can't catch it. Can't define it.

It's unquantifiable. Unknowable. And yet—

You know, instantly, that John Price would never look at you with something this archaic, this intense, brimming up like geysers in the endless spill of blue that can't seem to look away from you.

This man is not John Price.

But when he pulls you into a kiss—one softer and sweeter than you'd ever imagined the infamous captain could ever be capable of—you let him.

In fact, you kiss back.

And you'd really rather not think about what that says about you.

[l0standn0tf0und]

James Buchanan Barnes ☆ fic recs p.3

part 1.

part 2.

part 40s.

♡ = smut, 18+ only

bucky with a partner who isn’t quite…right

bucky and touch headcanons

all these things that I've done

bloodstains and daydreams

how's retirement, bucky?

scars to your beautiful

complaining by bucky

silver and garnet

good morning

in my dreams

almost kisses

gentle kisses

filthy fingers

cold metal

the life

♡closer

♡rinse cycle

♡enlivened mornings

♡bucky's second first time

♡helping bucky stay grounded by riding him

All credits and support to the authors: @hesthermay @fandoms-writings @collaredsoldat @angelltheninth @buckybarnesandmarvel @mrs-bucky-barnes106 @mercurial-chuckles @tom-holland-parker @buckys-metal-arm @eufezco @buckys-wintersoldier @aquaticmercy @embbarnes @brunchable @gaysindistress

masterlist

[hersheysmcboom]

Sonic: Maria, are you okay?

Maria: (on the verge of tears) oh yeah, I never been better.. better.. (Maria breaks into sobs as the wachowskis tried to comfort)

[dragonpyre]

Got bored so I rotoscoped some Winter Soldier au

Commission info ko-fi

[devilish-frog-3]

"Bucky?"

"Who the hell's Bucky?"

Officialmood your Winter Soldier au will not be forgotten

[unholyhelbig]

Around season 4: Skye/Daisy Johnson. Reader is a Winter Soldier like Bucky and has been part of the team since the beginning. Reader’s has always been there for the team especially Daisy, and has a huge crush on her, painfully watching on as she goes out with different people. Now the Reader needs help but doesn’t want it, what will Daisy and the team do?

Title: No Control (Daisy Johnson x Female!Reader)

Words: 2452

Trigger Warnings: Blood, mind control, manipulation, night terrors, talks of death, horrible grammar (Let me know if I should add more)

[A/n: Okay, I may have deviated from the prompt just a little bit, but in my defense, this is technically my first time writing Reader/Daisy Johnson so I had to feel it out a little!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The rope dug into your skin like a nasty row of teeth, biting at the skin, drawing a flourishing flash of bright blood. The image made you pull harder in a vicious tug of strength. Your jaw ached, tasted thick of metal. If you could just get out of this stupid chair, this horrible cell. It was much too small for your liking.

Quake, Daisy as you knew her, watched you with a lifted eyebrow. Her fingers were curled around the iPad that connected her to the controls of your containment. She grimaced, a wetness building in her stare.

When your struggle against the ropes had proved fruitless, you glanced up at her through wild, unkept hair, chest heaving. “What did you do to me? Why can’t I get out of this? Let me out of this!”

It felt like you were underwater, your chest heavy with discontent, even when you went slack in your binds. The first inkling that something was wrong had been swallowed down, the nightmares that ripped through your subconscious and pulled you from sleep.

For weeks, you’d wake up drenched in your own sweat as you tried to draw any type of air into your lungs. It often ended with you sitting, exhausted and scared, in the kitchen of the compound. First, you’d drink a cup of tea, then you’d pace and drink another, before finally succumbing to exhaustion on the common room sofa.

Agent May had found you the first night, just before dawn. She didn’t’ poke or prod, instead, she gently woke you and wordlessly gestured back towards your bunk. Other agents would be walking in and out, scourging for breakfast and their own fix of caffeine.

Those dreams- those nightmares- would soon leak into your everyday routine. As you sparred with Bobbie, you’d thrown a particularly deadly right hook. It was the color of her eyes, the seafoam dusty grey that you’d always found so endearing flashed and ripped into his gaze.

You’d drawn blood and stumbled back on the blue mat. Other recruits gaped at the two of you, floating by the edge of the training room. Bobbi pulled her fingers from the laceration on her cheek, already forming a bruise.

“I’m sorry,” came your whispered response. You grabbed your bag from the nearby bench, louder this time “really, I’m sorry.”

Bobbi called after you as you pushed open the doors of the training room and shoved through agents until you made it to the safety of your room. Except, it didn’t’ feel much like safety anymore. Your fingers were shaking, and your knuckles had a smear of dried brown blood, Bobbi’s blood, against them.

It had been years, nearly a decade, since you’d first been approached by Phil Coulson with his grandiose idea of forming a team to take down hero-level threats within SHIELD, because after all, everyone needs a backup plan. And while you’d been hesitant at first, that single decision in a Montanna bar changed the course of your life. Changed your isolation tactics, the person you had once been.

SHIELD was your family. They’d slowly ebbed away the distant memories of what had created you in the first place: the brainwashing, the torture, the misguided loyalty was all on the backburner. You’d forgotten just how cold it was.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

Without warning, the icy hand of your captor was closing around your throat once more, but this time, you were surrounded with people who you cared for. The thought of hurting them had you hunched over the bathroom in your room, retching whatever mint-tea concoction you’d swallowed down hours before.

At one point, you blacked out, and when you came to, when you finally pulled yourself from the scent of bile and blood and regret, you were here. They’d moved you to a containment unit and restrained you with ropes that did no favor to your already aching body.

Your fingers were still coated in blood, too much to be from your outburst in the gym. And while you still panicked, while you were still choked with fear, there was a calmness about the situation. If you were in here, you weren’t out there. With them.

“Whose blood is this?” you asked.

“Hard to say,” Daisy replied. “You did quite the number. It’s hard for agents to fight off a super soldier, you know?”

Your jaw began to ache as you pressed your teeth together, peering at her through strands of sweat-caked hair. The rope wouldn’t hold you for long, but the containment unit would. There was an electric buzz from the forcefield strong enough to hold back ten-thousand super soldiers.

Daisy had a tepid stare trained on you that made you squirm. You tested your strength against your binds, pressing and pressing until the frayed edges drew blood, dripped down the tips of your fingers until the floor was puddled with it.

A laugh bubbled up in your throat. You lolled your head, trying to loosen up your shoulders. Everything was weak and fuzzy and above all else, you felt the hiss of someone’s voice in the back of your mind. Eyes seeing through your eyes, hands gripping past your own.

There was a poison to Daisy’s voice “You just leveled a room full of twenty-five agents and you’re laughing?”

She’d clicked off the iPad, set it aside. Daisy stood and crossed her well-toned arms over her chest. God, even in your disillusioned state, you were acutely aware of your feelings for her. They’d been festering under the surface for a better part of the last three years.

“No, no… I just…”

With an extra tug, the mass of rope fell to the ground in a heap of ties and caked blood. You couldn’t distinguish your own from those of the agents that you be felled. Your fingers worked at the lacerations.

“You’ve got a very motherly tone right now. I mean, you’re scolding me, actually scolding me!”

“What do you expect me to do, y/n? What I witnessed in there was one of the scariest, most startling things I have ever seen and you expect me not to scold you? What the fuck is going on?”

Her voice cracked during the last sentence and your heart tugged at the sound. You’d heard it before as she sunk to the floor years ago when Lincon had perished, and when she’d succumbed to the fear of her own powers growing out of control.

The part of you that was still you didn’t want to cause that pain, and most certainly didn’t want the fear to take over. You stood, approaching the barrier. It was the only thing between you both, and it was highly charged.

You’d been tempted to touch it, to place your hand against the electricity save for the pain. Instead, you started pacing back and forth, the length of your makeshift cell. “This is where we held Agent Ward, isn’t it?”

She didn’t’ answer, instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat as you examined the metal frame bed and the cameras that were situated around each corner of the cell. Part of you swelled with pride, being confined in the same spot the biggest threat to the team had been in. You quickly drowned the thought, shaking your head.

 “Does it bother you? Watching two people you love fall down the same path?” The words had slipped past your lips before you could quell them. Instead, you tutted “You’re well on your way to a pattern, young lady. One more good-looking sociopath and you’ll collect all three.”

“Don’t,” Daisy snarled “You need to tell me what’s wrong. This isn’t you.”

You stopped pacing, lilting your head to the side as you stared at her. She was itching to leave, and you wanted her to. It would make all of this easier. Your entire body itched too, wanted to give in to the full control. It wasn’t something you were willing to do in front of Daisy.

“Do you know how much control I have to practice on a daily basis, Zee? Just a little more strength than usual and I rip a cabinet door off. I shatter a mug. I punch a co-worker in the face. It’s a constant push between what’s right to do and what I was designed to do.”

“So what? You decided you’re done watching your strength? That doesn’t warrant an attempt at massacre.”

“You don’t get it!” You punched the barrier, reveling in the feel of electricity that moved through your fingertips, your arm and elbow until it dissipated altogether. She flinched but didn’t step back. “When Hydra… why Hydra trained me it was all I knew. I would wake up, follow orders, and be put back to sleep before I could even register what I had done. Who I had killed, what I destroyed.”

This was something you had refused to talk about. Coulson knew the gist of your containment, of your de-programming because that was all listed in your SHIELD file. But the true horrors of your ordeal were a mystery to the entire team. It was behind you. He was behind you.

“A SHEILD team raided one of Hydras bases and I was there. I was willing to go without a fight and Hydra was willing to leave me there to absolve for their sins.” You chuckled at that, shaking your head “There was months of imprisonment, of interrogation and then deprogramming. And finally, finally after years of trying to prove myself to Director Fury, and Agent Hill, they cleared me for duty. Cleared me to join Coulson’s team.”

You let yourself plop down onto the metal chair, suddenly too exhausted to remember why you were fighting so hard in the first place. Daisy clenched and unclenched her jaw. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Two years of deprogramming doesn’t make up for a lifetime of torture, of molding me into the perfect killing machine.” You swallowed hard “I played my part, I ignored the feeling of being watched, the dark thoughts that tried to break through into my new, good, life. I fought every single day to make sure all of you were safe and unharmed and… suddenly, suddenly the people who were controlling me got stronger.”

Daisy shifted, uncrossing her arms “You’re saying you’re still under Hydra’s control?”

“I’m saying I wasn’t strong enough to fight off their hold on me. A few months ago I started blacking out and the nightmares, they got worse. But everyone was finally settled, finally happy. We were happy”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Daisy’s voice waivered “Y/n, one of the perks of having a girlfriend is being able to talk to them, to tell them things. You should have come to me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could keep things under control.”

Daisy let out a long sigh and lowered herself back into her own chair. Her elbows resting on her knees. She bounced her leg, staring at you with those deep brown eyes that you could drown in. Somehow, her being there, was enough if only for a moment.

“I have to tell Coulson.”

“I know,” you said.

“He’ll know what to do. We’ll get through this, y/n.” Her words were whispered, eyes glassy with emotion. “I love you. We all do. This is just another challenge, okay? We’re here to help.”

“I admire your perseverance, Daisy, but the hold hydra has on me. It’s bigger than me, it’s bigger than us.”

She swallowed thickly “You don’t mean that.”

But you did, didn’t you? Your skin felt like it was on fire and you wanted nothing more than to peel it off strip by strip until there was a new layer glinting under the industrial lights. Anything to stop the uncomfortable feeling of not being in your own body. You’d gotten to complicit under the watchful eye of SHIELD. Hydra didn’t like that, and at this point, neither did you.

It had been so easy, so simple to rip through those agents as they aimed red dots at your center. You didn’t care if they fired their weapons, you hadn’t a care in the world and it was freeing.

It was hard to wager that with the sad look your girlfriend was giving you now. Her fingers were tapping against her knees, hardly a perfect interrogation technique. It was hard not to crave her touch, her mouth hot on yours. Even if you did give yourself up to Hydra entirely, there would always be Daisy.

You lilted your head, narrowing your eyes at her. She’d be just as easy to break; just a little bit of homegrown brainwashing and she’d be by your side again. Both of you dripping in blood. A power like hers, resting under her fingertips, would be invaluable.

Standing, you gently touched the barrier separating you both. There was a subtle electronic buzz that moved through your fingertips and up to your elbow. It was warming, a constant comfort, almost. “Darling, we could make all of this go away. Just the two of us.”

She lifted her hazel stare from the tablet in front of her, reading your vitals like an open book. They were steady, you were sure of it. There was curiosity in her stare.

“Do you remember the house in Vermont we talked about?” You dragged your fingers against the barrier, a blue trail following fast. “The two of us can forget all of this, forget SHIELD and Hydra. We can go there, start a family. Isn’t that what you want?”

You could read it in her expression, it was exactly what she wanted. But Daisy Johnson was no fool. Despite your terse begging and manipulative tactics, she remained calm. One knee was balanced on the edge of the chair, the other foot planted firmly on the floor.

“Rae’s Restaurant… the floorplan that we drew out on the back of a placemat. Two stories, a nursery, and office. A massive backyard. I remember it well.” Daisy stood again, facing off against you with nothing but an electrical panel holding you back. “This isn’t the you I imagined it with. Where is the kindness? The selfless woman that I fell in love with?”

You gritted your teeth. “Gone. Nothing but a fabrication, baby. I’m just offering you one last chance to join me. I have no reservations about destroying you right along with this entire organization.”

Daisy swallowed hard, trying to quell the lump in her throat. She refused to let herself cry. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I do love a challenge.”   

[kaseikiwi]

my friend and i were talking abt middle school interests and they went “satosugu! winter soldier au… with gojo as steve and geto as bucky” and i went insane

[ashfault]

Winter Soldier AU

This au the rightfully owned by @ruinkiwi !

I can say.. I am now attracted to Ballister as winter soldier thanks to you. I love winter soldier and seeing someone make an au that combines BOTH of my favourite boys...

You know I had to draw him. (Clearer picture when you press the image TvT..)

[buckgasms]

Pom, it has plagued my mind and now it must plague yours. Alpha!Winter Soldier using you as his own person cocksleeve...

Darling, this is such an old ask and I apologise for how long it has taken me, but I just wanted to do it right, so it took me somewhat longer that intended 😅. It has indeed plagued my mind! I hope I can make up for the wait with the very long filth that follows!

Because oh my god YES.

This will be dark with elements of dub-con & non-con so please proceed with caution or avoid if it's not your thing ❤️

Zayka means bunny in Russian because of course he has to have a pet name for us 😂

Imagine if during a mission he spots you? He's hiding somewhere looking for his target, and as he scopes out the area you walk into his line of sight?

And something primal lurches in the pit of his stomach that tells him, he has to have you, as soon as possible.

He points you out to his handler's and they make arrangements. They know sometimes the soldier needs release so they don't argue. As long as the job gets done right?

🌑

You awake in a room unfamiliar to you. Your head pounds as you try and remember what happened. You were just walking through the park when a shot rang out. Everyone fled in different directions and as you ran out of the park.... You were intercepted... Two men in black military gear were calmly walking towards you... Then a sharp pain... Then nothing...

You realise suddenly that your own clothes have been replaced with a hospital gown and nothing else. Your body starts shivering with adrenaline and cold wondering what the hell is going on.

As you try to move the door unlocks and swings open. A huge man with a silver arm and piercing blue eyes is standing there in front of you. He only has a pair of black trousers on but even as the door is being locked again he is stripping them off as you cower on the floor.

"Theres been a mistake" you croak. "I shouldn't be here, I'm not... Please, I don't understand."

He walks towards you and drops to a crouch, running a hand across your cheek and assessing you. "Yes. It's you. I wanted you..." He rises, offering a hand which you don't accept, trying to shuffle away from him as quickly as you can. He threads his flesh hand into your hair and pulls, not hard but enough to stop your movements.

"Be good, be good for me and I'll make sure they let you go. Be bad and I promise nothing. I need you.... It needs to be you."

He sounds almost desperate for you. Like his control is only surface deep. You look at him and see pain behind the strength he easily displays. You glance around. No one is coming to help. Maybe if you're good....?

"Ok..."

With that he lets go of your hair and scoops you up in his arms carrying you to the poor excuse for a bed and places you down with more gentleness than you were expecting. He immediately removes your gown and pushes your thighs upwards, giving him direct access to your heat.

"Perfect" he murmers before diving down and licking and sucking at your cunt. His tongue dips in and out of your heat, then he sucks at your clit before shaking his head and stimulating your whole pussy.

Despite your lack of willingness, it is extremely effective and before you can even catch up, he has you on the edge of orgasm in moments. But he's not giving you that yet.

He grips your ankles and spins you, so your head is now hanging off the bed, inches away from his crotch. "Take it out and suck it" he orders and when you don't move he lands two harsh swats to your thighs. As you cry out you are moved into action. His dick springs free and you grip it before guiding him into your mouth.

He groans and stutters a little before his metal fingers are probing into your folds. The cold, hard metal sends shocks through your body as he chokes you simultaneously. "Fuck, good girl." He growls as his hips slide steadily into your mouth. Drool and tears mix on your face as he fucks your cunt with his fingers. Your moans and wails are muffled but the sensation on his cock sends him feral.

"Knew it had to be you. Fuck, made for me zayka" he growls, his cock pressing further down your throat as he brings you to a earth shattering orgasm. He over stimulates you, until you are flailing your legs to escape his touch.

"Easy, easy now" he says, removing his fingers and pulling his cock from your mouth. You lay, twitching as your body recovers from your climax but he's nowhere near satisfied.

"Up zayka, hands and knees"

You shudder and move slowly into position but he isn't satisfied so moves you again, his little ragdoll to play with. He pushes and pulls you until you are laying on your back, watching as his cock taps on your folds.

"So wet for me hmm? Made for this aren't you?" He waits until you nod, then sinks in, hand around your throat as he sheathes himself all the way. You both emit a long moan at the feeling before he starts pumping his hips again, skin slapping against yours as he fills you up.

Your hands flail around, gripping his metal hand that's fixed around your throat, scraping at his chest. He swats it away. "Touch yourself little slut. Play with yourself or I'll bind your hands" He growls and you can only obey, tentatively rubbing circles with one hand while your other paws clumsily at your breasts.

"Good girl, my good girl"

His praises have such a confusing effect. As much as this is wrong, you want to please him. He's making you feel so good. It spurs you on, with the hope that it will keep you alive. You want it to end. But you never want it to end.

Your walls clench tightly around him and he groans, emptying himself into you as he keeps fucking you to your second, intense orgasm. When he pulls out he watches as his seed drips from you, mixed with your own release and he rubs it together, taking a taste and moaning.

Finally, you think it's done. You curl away and wait for him to leave, but instead strong hands turn you back over. "Not done" he states and drags you to lay on your front, not before you catch a glimpse of his already semi-hard cock.

"I can go for longer than most kayza" he explains as you feel his cock press against your sensitive folds, dragging up to your puckered hole. You whimper and he reaches around, squeezing your breasts and shushing you. "You're doing so well... Be good for me..."

You whine as he sinks back into your puffy folds and holds there. Relishing the feeling of your spasming walls. You barely notice as he spits on to your ass and rubs it around before sinking his finger in slowly.

"Have you been taken here?" He asks, and you nod slightly, "just once" you mutter and he tuts. "This belongs to me now. You and your pretty holes are mine." He lands a slap on your skin and you cry out as he slides out of your pussy and into your ass.

He dips in and out of both holes, using your wetness to ease his entrance into your tight hole. The pleasure mixed with the pain drives you senseless, bucking your hips as he sinks further and further in. Finally he is fully seated and both of you are panting, a fine sheen of sweat covering both of you.

You feel his hand sink into your hair and pull you upwards so your back is pressed to his chest. "Taking me so well... Knew you could..." He ruts upwards, fingers rubbing mercilessly at your clit as he fucks you. You are sure you black out at his fingers slip into your folds and curl towards your g-spot making your whole body tremble. He groans in your ear as you whine, desperate for release again. He sucks bruises into your neck and shoulders, occasionally sinking his teeth down to leave impressions in your skin, marking you as his.

"Please...please" you beg as you teeter closer to your limit of pleasure. "Come for me, come as much as you want... Going to fill up your holes kayza..."

His talented fingers and never ceasing cock drag you to another peak and he holds you tight in place as your jerk and squirm through it. He growls again as he comes in your ass, holding himself in place making sure you don't lose a drop.

You fall to the mattress again and can't help the exhaustion that takes over your body. He climbs over you and drags your body to his. "Sleep kayza, more later..."

🌑

You awake to the feeling of fingers in you, and find his cock being guided into your mouth. You squirm and cry but he shushes you and threatens a spank. "Suck and I'll make you feel good..."

You take his cock in your mouth and he wraps his thighs around your head, trapping you in place as his tongue and fingers delve into your pussy. The focus on breathing removes any other thought from your mind, focusing you onto one task and blocking out the fear that is now dissolving in your stomach. For his part he works your body like he's known it for years, kissing your folds, nibbling and biting your sensitive thighs and curling his finger gently inside you.

His cock tightens before he releases in your mouth, almost choking you in the process. It's clear he has no intention of releasing you until you are dragged to another climax, your walls now intensely sensitive as he curls his finger beyond what you can take, until finally he releases you from the headlock and your body falls backwards.

He hovers over you, hands pressed either side of your head. He presses sloppy kisses to your face, almost like he's forgotten how to. His lips drag over your skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in his wake. He pulls back to look at you. "Open your mouth" he says and you comply. "You swallowed it?" He growls and you nod, feeling suddenly embarrassed even though you shouldn't.

"Next time hold it, I want to see it..."

Your cheeks redden and you shiver again. Next time? You felt sure it was almost over. But the look on his face suggests not. He follows up by spitting in your mouth and squeezes your cheeks, making it drop over your lips and chin.

"It's like you were made for me kayza... So perfect.... So soft and sweet..."

🌑

He let you sleep for a while, and during that time he was summoned. They spoke in Russian and he took on the role of submissive. He nodded and was led out of the room with heavily armed guards.

Maybe while he was gone they would set you loose? You didn't know anything, you were innocent.

But you waited hours. At some point a meal was shoved through a flap in the door. You waited for a moment but your hunger took over and you scrambled to the door and ate whatever mush was on the plate.

You wrapped a blanket around you and sat cold and silent. You didn't know which was worse. Waiting for him or being with him. You tried to understand how you let yourself surrender to him so easily. You felt like you did nothing to stop it, but what could you do? No one was here to help you and at least he seemed to care about you... In his own way.

🌑

You heard thundering footsteps heading down the corridor outside your door. With a short pause it was suddenly open and he was back in the room. You sat there staring at him as he stood staring at you.

He shrugged off his clothes and walked towards you. "Show it to me." He said, gesturing to your lower half but you couldn't move. "Kayza, be good or I can be bad..." You exhaled and dropped your thighs open and he hissed as your swollen pussy leaked out his release. He dipped his hand down and rubbed making you whimper at the touch.

Once he was naked he laid back on the bed next to you. His hands drifted over your body where you sat until he was pulling you into place, sitting on his body. "I can't, it's too sensitive..." You pant as he lifts you up by the thighs and guides you to sit on his fat cock.

"No, no, you take it, you can..." You can't escape his grip as he drags you down with one hand and guides his cock into your heat. Your hands grip at his chest and you cry out as he stretches you. You gasp for air and he just holds you still, shushing you as you are overwhelmed.

"You're made for this. Look at you... Still taking me all the way..." He lets his soft hand drag over your body, squeezing here and there, pinching your nipples until they are swollen and sore from his actions. He rolls his hips experimentally and even he can't cope with the way your walls clamp down on him. "Fuck, that's right... It's just want you like huh?"

He stops again, letting you calm down before rolling again. He keeps this torturous pace, stopping and starting until tears track down your face and the only thing keeping you up is his hands around your throat.

"Did they touch you while I was gone zayka?" He whispers, hands squeezing slightly tighter, hips thrusting slow but deep. "N...no...no." He growls again as your eyes roll in your head. "Tell me why... Why did they leave you alone?"

"Because....ah..b...because I belong....to you."

He drags you forward and crashes his lips to yours in a primal kiss, you return it clumsily, moaning in his mouth. His hand reaches round and presses into your ass as he ruts. "That's right.....mine."

🌑

Time passes, probably days but they are a blur to you. He leaves and returns once more, the rest of the time he uses you, holds you and occasionally you sleep.

Until one day he goes, and he's gone for a long time. Your only sign of life is the weird meals that pass through the door every several hours.

Eventually someone opens the door. Not the soldier. A guard of some type. He throws a gown at you and leads you to a quiet room with a scary looking chair. Are they going to kill you now.

Despite the horror of the situation, you find yourself wishing for him. At least he was gentle, these guards did not look gentle.

Suddenly he is marched into the room and thrown into the chair. You watch horrified as he is strapped down, a glassy look in his eye. He looks at you briefly, a flare of possession and recognition shot towards you.

"We are going to wipe his memory, but we can't deny the effect you've had on him. Kept him much calmer than the others before you." A guard explains as doctors whizz around the room, pressing various buttons.

"If he remembers you, little kayza," he mocks, "then you can live. If not..." He cocks his gun near you and you shiver. An impossible fate lies ahead of you. Death or life, but what kind of life would it be?

You are forced to watch on as he screams during the process. Tears track down your face in fear, for both of you. Clearly he is as much a prisoner as you.

Finally the ordeal ends. They speak to him in hushed tones as various plates of metal are removed from his body. You are pushed forward into his eyeline.

Your heart is in your throat as he stares at you. Will he remember?

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Smth smth rhaenicent winter soldier au alicent is the winter soldier

[airflowolf]

Hydra AU. maskless version under the cut

[kamiko1234]

Okay but like, imagine a Winter Soldier Spider AU. After Spider is captured and Qzuaritch gets him out of that mind-reader torture device, the RDA realizes that there is no way to get any valuable information out of Spider. But they also recognize that he can be a very valuable asset with his top-notch physique and knowledge of anything Pandora. So instead of allowing Spider to run around as a glorified tour guide for the recoms, they decide to just break the poor boy into compliance. And since this is a Winter Soldier AU "break him into compliance" means putting him through some frankly said horrific torture. He's starved, beaten, hurt- probably but through that mind reader some more times to mess up his mind enough for the RDA to mold. Spider tries to resist ofcourse, putting up a valiant effort through everything the RDA does to him. He does not make any part of this easy- but even someone like him has his limits. And with absolutely no hope of rescue, Spider breaks. He gives in. He's a teenager and he's utterly exhausted, he just couldn't put up with it all anymore. The RDA won over Spider- or better, over Miles. Because Spider no longer exists. His name is Miles Soccoro, and he is loyal to the RDA. He has no memory of the time before the RDA, and he has to fulfill his mission no matter what. Find the traitor Jake Sully and his family, then end their lives.

[waywardstoryenthusiast]

Was watching Fellowship of The Ring the other day, and I had a thought: Has anyone done art or a story of Boromir as the Winter Soldier? Cause I feel that would be a fun (heartbreaking) AU.

Either Aragorn or Faramir as Captain America.

I just really love the mental image of the reveal scene.

"Boromir?"

"Who the hell is Boromir?"

(Course, Boromir is the one with the round shield (in the movies) so he could be Cap. But then Faramir would likely be the Winter Soldier. Oof, that's worse.)

[utterimmolation]

SPOP WINTER SOLDIER (kind of) AU

Trying to inspire myself to finish this one by sharing:

She gasps for breath, staring wide-eyed up at the equally exhausted looking foe. One minute she'd been on top of a tank, staring out as the Rebellion "barracks" were engulfed in flame, trying to place the uncomfortable feeling in her gut as soft-looking cadets(?) fled the area with their equally soft-looking commanders.

The next, she'd had a name for that feeling: vertigo. The sound of something not unlike acid rain on a shingle, accompanied by the smell of flowers and something like the rare sugar cubes Shadow Weaver rewarded her tea with on an especially good day was the only warning she got before pudgy hands seized her tail and world shifted in a haze of pink. Her organs lurched and she didn't even try to lash out at what had to be a princess as she collapsed to the ground, more focused on trying not to hurl her guts out.

"Call off your attack Horde Scum!" The princess shrieked, hands glowing with ominous fluorescent power. She didn't look too steady herself, her glittering, nauseous-looking pink curls matted with ash and sweat.

Still, she had the advantage, given that she had hands full of some kind of shimmering magic and the ability to seemingly pop in and out of existence at will and Catra had…well claws were all well and good but she had a feeling that it wouldn't be enough. Maybe if she could distract them, she could get in a swipe, as soon as it stopped feeling like her tongue was too big for her—

A dark blur on her peripheral is all the warning she gets before something dark and tall and strong slams into the stout princess looming over her and seemingly body-checks the pinkette halfway across the battlefield.

Feline eyes widen as they absorb the sight looming of them: a humanoid, armored in the black and grey of the Horde, sickly green wings menacingly emblazoned upon their chestplate. Steel plates clink and shift over thick armor weave as straining, muscular shoulders and arms ripple and strain against their confines. Muscled thighs that look capable of crushing stone between them flex in armored combat pants. Steel-toed boots crush smouldering grass and ash under this powerful frame. The lower half of their face is sealed beneath a toughened plasteel vented mask. Blond hair cut short at the top nestles upon a military undercut. And between the two…

"You," Catra breathes and she swears the steel-blue orbs peering back at her flicker with recognition. For a moment, all sound stops. For a moment, the world seems to pause. For a moment, all Catra can do is gaze into the very, very pleasing eyes (and arms and legs and neck and—) of this warrior and think: beautiful.