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kamaria-sweet-writes · 11 months

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Totally wanting more of this story please.

Werefox (Harcourt) x human female reader ~ part 1

You're twelve when you hear your mother yelling outside.

"Get out!"

You scamper into the backyard to see her shooing the scrawniest werefox you've ever seen away from the chicken coop. He's got egg yolk clinging to his chin. His sunset orange ears are pinned to his head as he deftly dodges your mother's flailing dishcloth and leaps over the fence, disappearing into the brush.

"But Ma!" You wail, "he's cute and hungry!"

"Such creatures are a pestilence. Besides, dear, you can't keep him as a pet. He'll grow just as big as you, and he's no true animal."

You pout for the rest of the week, but she doesn't budge, like any sensible mother. The little werefox had a den nearby, you figure, so you set out to find it, taking two eggs from the coop. His den isn't hard to find. You've seen fox dens before he looks like he hasn't learned how to create a proper and safe den. As you step on the crunchy leaves surrounding his home, his head pops out of his den like a jack-in-the-box and he stares at you.

"Hello," you say, tromping forward without much thought to your safety. "I brought you eggs!"

He cocks his head to the side. You put the eggs on a leaf close to him and watch him snap them up, crunching on the shells and licking his lips.

"Can you speak?" You ask him next.

He watched you silently, ears swiveling. You glimpse a worn, scruffy collar around his neck and reach out to hold the tag. He squirms and shivers, but lets you have a look.

"Harcourt? That's such a fancy name," you laugh.

"I was a circus pet," he blurts out, eyes widening like he can't believe he just spoke. "I-I ran away!"

"Well, nice to meet you," you say and give him a big hug, breathing in the dusty scent of his fur. "We're going to be best friends!"

So, that's how you made your unlikely friend. Nine years later, he's still runty and lanky, although he's almost as tall as you if he stands. You're still very good friends, even if he is a stubborn little shit and refuses to leave his den most of the time.

"I'm going to stop bringing you food," you tease one hazy afternoon as you watch him scarf down the ham and cheese sandwich you brought him.

"Then I'll steal your eggs," he says, licking his muzzle and then licking the taste of ham from your fingers, his sharp teeth nipping lightly at your skin.

"You already do that. You're lucky the hens are laying a surplus, otherwise, my mother would notice."

"I trade for the eggs though," he protests.

"The baskets of fruit that appear on our doorstep? I'm pretty sure you steal from the neighbor's orchard," you snicker.

He narrows his golden eyes at you and huffs.

"Never mind me, stolen fruit tastes sweeter." You tuck up your skirts and get on your hands and knees and crawl into his den uninvited, because you know he won't mind. "Oh, you enlarged it! And you took my advice and got some bedding- is that my spare quilt?!"

"Stop fussing already," he grumbles, squeezing in after you. "You don't need it. It gets cold out here."

"But you could have asked. Wait a second... No wonder I couldn't find these panties. You took these two!"

You burst into laughter and nudge him playfully with your foot. "You didn't even try to hide them. Shameless."

"You're not mad?" Harcourt curls up in a ball and tucks his nose into his tail, peering at you.

"No, but why did you take them?"

"They smelled good and they make me feel funny."

You slap a hand over your face. "Oh my god, it's almost like you grew up in the wild by yourself... Oh right, you did."

"What? Did I say something wrong?" He asks, perking his head up.

"Er, so what do you do with my panties? Just drape them over your nose and go to sleep?"

"First I chew on them."

"So I can see," you raise your eyebrows at the holes in your undergarments and drop them on the ground.

"I think there's something you're not telling me," Harcourt says.

"Definitely. You'll figure it out when your first mating season comes around," you reply and lie back against the quilt, staring up at the dirt ceiling.

A couple of roots are bared to the gaze. You learned long ago that it was best to keep your eyes closed in his den, otherwise, you'd get dirt in your eyes. You close your eyes now and Harcourt scoots closer, plopping his head on your stomach. You run your fingers through his fur, which is always silky now thanks to the brush you gifted him.

"Do humans have a mating season too?" He asks.

"Not really. But we are expected to pair off with another human and have babies. My mom has been talking about it since I turned eighteen. She's worried that I'm getting too old."

"Are you?" Harcourt sniffs. "You smell young to me."

"I have no idea what you mean, silly. I'm only twenty-one and I think there's plenty of time yet. I don't fancy any of the men in town because they're forceful with what they want. At this point, I need a stick to beat them off with."

"I can guard you," Harcourt offers.

"Oh no, don't do that. If you think my mother is bad, then you're not prepared for the men in town. Some of them might try to shoot you."

"Hmmm, it's why I stay away from humans," Harcourt murmurs sleepily. "They all want to shoot me or cage me up."

"A pity," you murmur back.

You end up dozing off with your hand still in his fur. Harcourt sleeps like he's still a kit, draping his body over you, then curling up at your side, and then nuzzling into his tail, constantly moving. You think nothing of it until you're completely woken up by his tongue rasping over your skin.

"Oi, I took a bath this week. I don't need another one," you grumble sleepily.

He purrs deep in his throat and licks your arm again, his body caged around you like he's a motherly cat.

"Hey," you cry in proper protest as he moves on to your hair. "Stop it."

"You always smell so nice," he purrs. "You smell nicer than your panties."

You huff out a laugh. "You're clueless, you overgrown fox-child. Release me, if I don't head home now, my mother will send someone to find me."

"Fine," he grumbles. "Don't take so long to visit next time."

"I won't," you promise as you scramble out of his den, shaking leaves and dirt out of your hair and clothes.

You look frightfully dirty and sneak back to your house and up the stairs to change before your mother catches you. For the next few days, you're incredibly busy. The harvest is in and all your time is spent preserving, canning, salting, drying, and pickling. You leave a few gifts tucked in a secret corner of the coop for Harcourt. The nights are becoming warm and the crickets sing. You wonder when the mating season begins for foxes, and when you'll see any more of them.

You know they're there, but they just don't live so close to human towns. In that way, Harcourt is a bit of an anomaly.

The next morning, you're taking in the morning eggs when you notice something strange. The chickens are milling around their coop, staring at something underneath. You crouch down to have a look and come face to face with a slender female werefox. She's crammed into the tiny space, which doesn't look very comfortable.

"Hi," you say. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know," she replies, and with a grunt of effort, she crawls out. "I was hiding from a male. I did not want to mate with him and he chased me all the way here. He did not dare to come close to the house so I have been hiding here until he goes away."

She lifts her muzzle and sniffs the air. "He is gone now," she says in satisfaction.

Her golden eyes fall on you and she says,

"I do not scare you, human?"

"No, I have a werefox friend who lives nearby."

"Yes, the lonely one. I have scented him around your house," she says. "He must like you to guard your property like this."

"I guess," you smile and glance back at your house. "I can't promise my mother will be happy to see you here, though."

"I need a place to sleep and a reliable male to den with. This fox friend of yours, he is good?" She asks.

"I would say so, yes."

"Then take me to him," she says, placing the soft pads of her paws against your arm and squeezing. "I would rather choose a male than be forced to pick one."

"I understand how you feel. Let me put the eggs away, then I'll join you."

Together you take the secluded path through the forest. Your new werefox acquaintance flits around you like a butterfly, listening for danger and cocking her head to the sound of rabbits or squirrels. You've never seen a female werefox before and you can't help looking at her breasts. The six of them are much more obvious than they would be on a male werefox, with rosy pronounced nipples like she's already had a litter or two.

When you get close to Harcourt's den, she bumps into you and stops you with a paw on your arm.

"Be aware he is in a rut," she says. "He may bite us and chase us."

"This is his first one," you say. "Does that make it any better?"

"No," she said. "He might not even realize who you are. He will want to mate with you."

"But that's what you're here for," you say quickly. "Let me look at him."

"I will wait." She grabs your cheeks and holds your face still, rubbing her muzzle against your neck and giving you a little lick. "I cannot promise what he will do to you when he scents me on your skin," she says. "Be cautious."

You trudge towards the den and stop a few feet away from the entrance.

"Harcourt?" You call out.

The growl you receive in response is immediate and none too friendly.

"Someone is in a mood," you mumble.

You crouch and crawl into the den, praying he doesn't bite your face off. Harcourt is curled up in an aggravated ball, his nose pushed into his fluffy tail for comfort. He glares at you.

"Are you okay?" You ask, looking him over.

He looks scrawnier than usual like he hasn't been hunting.

"No," he growls. "You didn't come and visit me."

"I'm sorry, there's been so much work to do in the house that I couldn't find any time to steal away," you sigh. "You didn't come for any of the gifts I left you."

"I can't. I'm miserable," Harcourt huffs. "I'm hot all over and I'm leaking everywhere and I've wanted to bite you and do things I cannot fathom. I was afraid I'd hurt you."

"Oh," you smile. "You're precious."

"I don't know what is happening to me!" He snaps, his ears pinning back. "And I ask that you leave me be until I am myself again."

"I can't do that," you say. "If you don't get any help you're going to be like this for a long time."

Harcourt blinks and uncurls his slender body, tail whisking against the quilt.

"You mean, it's never going away?"

He looks mournfully down at himself, at his pink cock that has poked out of its sheath and rubs against his belly, plastering the fur there with precum.

"No," he whispers. "But I can't stay like this! I can't sleep, I can't hunt, I can't even groom myself properly because it hurts."

He turns to look at you with dilated pupils. "You have to help me," he whimpers.

Before you can answer, the female werefox crawls into the den, and Harcourt freaks out, hissing and ducking behind you.

"Woah, calm down, she's with me," you say.

"I come in peace, little one," she says. "You're much younger than I thought you would be. Inexperienced. My name is Nitaki."

She looks around the den and wrinkles her muzzle.

"Get out of my den," Harcourt huffs. "Leave me alone."

She crawls forward, brushing her muzzle against your cheek. "The human is a friend to you?" She hums.

"She's mine," he snaps.

"Um," you begin, but neither of them pays attention to you as they face each other with wrinkled noses and bared teeth.

Nitaki stares him down imperiously until he gives up and looks away with a whimper. Whining your name, he attempts to scoot back to your side, but she blocks him off.

"I want only one thing from you. To end this cycle of heat."

"I-I don't know how," Harcourt says anxiously, nostrils flaring as he takes in the cacophony of scents from both females, so different and yet so alike.

It makes him disoriented and dizzy.

"I will teach you," she says, prowling closer.

He leans away, even snapping when she gets too close. Frustrated at his rejection, she spins around and locks her eyes on you.

"It is your human female you truly want, is it not?"

Harcourt's pupils widen more than you had thought they could. His tongue lolls out of his mouth and his sides heave.

"Yes..." He says.

"Um, that's not-" You begin, but Nitaki flicks her ears and holds out a paw to you.

"Join us," she urges. "And we can all get what we want."

"But I..."

"Please?" Harcourt says, his claws digging into the quilt as his cock throbs against his belly. "I want you."

You're still hesitating when Nitaki pounces on Harcourt, knocking him onto his back. He growls and tries to push her off. But the Nitaki is stronger than him, a true alpha female. She keeps him down and ignores his squirming, leaning down and placing her teeth around his neck. He goes still immediately and his eyes roll wildly as he whimpers.

"What are you doing?" You ask.

"I want him to submit to me," she mumbles against his fur. "I do not have patience for teaching."

Once she's satisfied that Harcourt is subdued, she rolls off of him and gets on her hands and knees, displaying herself for him. Perhaps her pheromones finally penetrate his dumb skull or he finally realizes what he's meant to do. Either way, he crawls up to her, sniffing the air. He growls and bares his teeth, fumbling at her hips. She flicks her tail out of the way and shuffles her knees open wider, waiting.

You can see how wet she is.

"Human, help him," Nitaki commands. "Are we shall be here for the rest of the day."

Silently, you move over. Harcourt jumps a mile when you take his cock in your hand. It's different from a man's, pink and slippery and with a slightly flared head. It looks huge, throbbing menacingly in your palm. Harcourt whimpers, and his body trembles. You guide him to the female werewolf and feel her lubrication wet your fingers as you press him in.

It doesn't go exactly as you had imagined. Nitaki is content to drive her hips against him and does most of the work while he shivers and clutches her hips. When he cums, it startles him most of all. He tries to pull out, but she grabs his paws and pulls him against her back, unrelenting. He gives up and leans heavily against her, panting.

Finally, she pulls away and shakes herself off. Harcourt slumps onto the quilt, dazed. His cock is still throbbing and leaking cum lazily.

"Good luck with your little runt," Nitaki says to you. "I have what I needed."

With that, she scrambles out of the den and leaves the two of you to your own devices.

"Harcourt? Are you okay?" You lean over him.

His eyes open and he grunts. "I want to do it again," he says. "But with you this time."

─────────────── · · · · ✦

So stressed right now, ngl. Reblog/like if you want me to write part two of this crazy shit!

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Pure genius. I only wish Steve walked in on them lol.

Hands Off: Bucky x Reader (AU)

Summary: You’re Steve’s cousin and he has some rules when it comes to you that Bucky isn’t a fan of. Mainly, that he can’t have you.

Part 2

Words: 1517

Notes: cursing. Wrote really fast. hope it’s ok. Comments are always appreciated.

Hands Off

“Stay away from her!”

Steve had said a lot of other things in that little speech of his, but Bucky only remembered the part he liked the least.

“Stay away from her! Don’t hit on her!”

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Amazing! Loved every word and can’t wait to see what happens next. Kudos.

Title: Take cover

Pairing: Winter soldier/Bucky barnes x reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: dark themes, stalking, obsessive/protective behavior from Bucky, Bucky is semi delusional/mentally unstable, fluff (in the end), reader is a bit naive, post-CATWS, Bucky on the run, fluff.

Summary: you discover someone has been watching you, - but like a guardian angel or a viscous stalker? You’re about to find out.

“I know what you’re doing.” You called out to the man hiding in the shadows. “Leave me the hell alone.”

For weeks you had noticed something off with your daily routine. You felt watched, - like someone had their eyes following your every movement as you went about your days.

It was about a week in where you caught a man walking the same route as yours a distance behind you. It wasn’t the first time you had been followed, - in fact you could have sworn you were followed by three men a while back but they disappeared after a second glance. This guy was someone else entirely though.

You had never seen him before, and while it could have been merely a coincidence that he was taking the same routes you take on a daily, that reassurance was quickly crossed out when you started to test him, - to see if while you stood still he’d walk right past. But he never did. When you stopped or slowed your tempo, so did he. When you walked a different route, so did he.

It was beyond creepy, and it didn’t help that he was dressed basic with his cap hiding his face and a brown jacket. Only thing that made him different from other men was his longer dark brown hair and his taller figure. Not many men in town were quite as tall as him, which made you feel even more threatened.

As you became more aware of him, you stopped taking afternoon strolls and tried your best to be in crowds to feel safer. It didn’t work much as he never seemed to loose track of you though. Walking into your favorite cafe didn’t stop him from waiting around the area to continue his stalking as soon as you got out. You didn’t think he could have a job with how much time he was occupying following you from work to back home.

You thought of going to the police, but in this town in particular there was little to no such luck of getting actual help from the police, let alone a stalker case where the guy in question could argue he’s just walking around by his right to do so. So, it left you with two options; either hope for the best of not getting murdered (or worse) by your stalker or confront him.

The 5th week was your last straw, and you decided to go with the confrontation as you were standing outside of your apartment, eying directly at the man who had done nothing but walk after you.

The man was stunned when he heard you, not leaving his spot, - as if he couldn’t believe he was caught. When your eyes at him told otherwise, he left the corner of the next block building, slowly walking towards you.

He mumbled, “I’m sorry, I was just…”

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” You interrupted with a harsher tone.

This seemed to make the man agitated, and he reached out his hands in surrender. “No, please! Don’t! I have a perfect explanation for it all. Hear me out, - I won’t get any closer to you.” He offers reassurance, not making you any less scared but he sounded convincing enough to give him a chance of explaining himself.

First thought that came to mind was he could possibly be working for secret service, or something like that. Crimes had been on the rise in this part of town, and there had been rumors of FBI lurking around to check after illegal activity. But what could you have possibly done to make yourself seem suspicious?

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think. I promise, I would never. The reason why I’ve been following you all this time is to protect you, Y/N.”

How does he know my name? You had to wonder. “Protect me?” You repeated his answer in question. “What’s that supposed to mean? From what? Who are you?” You added questions, emphasizing the last one.

The man swallows before he answers, “My name is James but friends in my past used to call me Bucky, - I think. And I’m protecting you cause…there are a lot of terrible people around than you realize. People who would want to hurt you. I knew the moment I saw you that I was meant to protect you from those people.”

He thinks his name is that of what he told? Trying to protect me from terrible people? His answers confused you even more. He must be on something, and it freaked you out knowing you were dealing with a crazy person. “Y-You should seek medical attention. I don’t think you’re in your right state of mind -!”

“You don’t understand!” He interrupted you and broke out. “You’re the only thing, - person, who brings consistency to my life. Me using hours and nights looking after you, to make sure you leave for work and come home safe gives me a purpose. I… - I have nothing left to live for.”

Your lips fall a little, sad as you had only heard those lines in fiction used typically of that one hopeless character clinging to the last branch of hope before it all falls for them. Why did you have to be so sympathetic? You had no idea who this man was. One thing for sure, he was a fucking stalker.

You should call the police as you speak, but you don’t want to.

Why didn’t you want to? Why weren’t you running into your apartment and locking the front door? Why did you want to get a closer look at him?

“Sir, I…”

“Call me Bucky. Please.”

“Bucky, listen…I don’t know your life story, but this isn’t healthy. This is obsessive. We don’t even - you don’t even know me!”

“I know enough to like you.” He argued. “I know you like animals, - you sometimes trail off from your main path home over to the park to watch the dogs play there. You order any sweets at the cafe but only if there’s strawberry or vanilla in it, - strawberry milkshake, vanilla shortcake, - you name it. I know you’re a good person, always opening the door for the elderly by the library and voluntarily help stack books by the shelves. I have caught you smiling when you read romance novels. Those seem to be your favorite genre. You live alone, no siblings or parents in the picture that I know of. You’ve always been…alone, for as long as I’ve been watching after you. That makes the two of us in a sense.”

Why did he have to call you out like that? Sure, it was nothing but the truth. You didn’t have people you could call friends at work, and you had long ago lost contact with your friends from college. Also, you did in fact have no siblings but you did have parents - you just weren’t on speaking terms at the moment.

You were alone as one could possibly be.

You didn’t know what you could add to what he had said as it was mostly true, but you didn’t need to as Bucky continued, “First time I laid my eyes on you…three men walked behind you in that lonesome street in the evening. I know you saw them cause you turned around once. They had knives in their pockets, and one of them had a rope. I was only a small distance away when I heard them say ‘let’s get her’. So, as you made the corner, I beat them up, one by one. Because like I said, I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you. You don’t deserve that at all. You deserve to be safe. That is why it’s you. It may sound dumb but I believe it was fate. I feel at peace when I know you’re okay, and I can’t remember the last time I felt that. He doesn’t allow peace in my mind, but he seems to make you an exception.”

You’re simply taken away by what you had been told. So your gut instincts were right, - you were followed then too, except apparently they hadn’t just disappeared. Your stalker took care of them.

Bucky let you process in silence till you started to get closer to him as you asked him all of a sudden, “Are you armed?”

“No…- well, I do have this…” Bucky reveals as he removes his jacket carefully, showing the metal arm he has forcibly attached to him. Your mouth parts a little, your eyes widening at the sight before you turn to look at the ground.

“You don’t have a place to stay?” You ask.

He shook his head with a sigh. “No. But I’m used to it.”

You look up again, offering the unexpected, “Come. I have an extra mattress in my apartment. You can use that while we figure out your situation.”

Bucky looked up at you in awe, beyond shocked of what you had just suggested. If it wasn’t dead quiet at this time of hour, he would have assumed he heard you wrong. “But why? I thought you said that…”

“I have heard of you, you know. That metal arm of yours with the red star…you have been around for quite some time, yet you haven’t aged. My uncle who worked for the military knew about you as he was a witness at the Hotel Inessa where an assassin with a metal arm just like yours committed a massacre. Ever since that day he used the next years connecting the dots to previous cases, and he told me all about it once. That was before…he got taken out within the base. No one knew for what particular reason but I always knew. And what do I know, he was right. You’re real. You’re the winter soldier.” You conclude, putting Bucky on the spot as he realized just how small the world was.

The odds of someone outside of government officials knowing of his past was unlikely, yet here he was, the one person he found purpose with knew about it. He didn’t like it. She must think I’m a monster, - rightfully so, he thought. “I don’t know what to say…I-“

“You didn’t kill him.” You cut him off, “Person of interest was described to have two human arms. He was presumably a Russian spy within the base and took it upon himself to take out my uncle before more came out about what he knew.”

He shrugs, “Still…it doesn’t make sense why you would allow me into your home, - now knowing what I’ve done, what I was controlled to do. It was still me. So again I ask…why?”

“Because, I need answers,” you reasoned. “And knowing what I’ve learned about you, you would have taken me out a long time ago if you had plans to do so. And it’s clear to me that you’re a bit out of it but from what I understand, seeking psychiatrical help is out of the question for you. So let’s help each other. You’ve been in hiding, right?”

Bucky nodded again, “They’re still after me, you know. I can’t drag you into my mess.”

“Well, you have been good at hiding so far, and if something happens you’ll protect me, right? Like you’ve done all this time.” You remind him.

He smiled shyly as he let out a quiet ‘yeah’. He was sure he would keep doing that with his life.

With that, you let him into your place, not aware that this was only the beginning of a heartfelt relationship with the ex-winter soldier himself, - one that would bond the two of you for eternity.

N/A: I know this was short but there might be a part two for this if I’m feeling up for it! Let me know what you liked and if you’d like a next part.

Hearts & Reblogs are very appreciated! Thank you!

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Omfg this kid! I love Jordan and Bucky together. The apple juice and whiskey swishing had me cackling

Catch Me If You Can 2

Mob!Bucky x single mom police officer

I am so happy you all loved these two so here is more from this AU. I had the story half in mind but wasn’t sure if people would feel it, once again, LMK if you want more!

Warnings: fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning

You woke up to the smell of fresh coffee, sun pouring in the giant room, your body still aching from the night before but the peaceful rest proved to be helpful. You smiled at the steaming cup that sat by your bedside table, picking up the hand drawn card that was placed beside it; giant heart coloured red was in the middle with the words Get Well Soon decorated in bold letters. You grinned, opening the card to read your sons hand writing.

Dear mommy,

Get well soon. Uncle Bucky says he took good care of you and that you’ll arrest him once you’re all better. He bought me a kinder egg. He seems nice. Maybe give him a running head start.

Love and kisses and cuddles,

Jordan

PS: Can we stay a little longer? Peter is still trying to beat me in Mario Kart

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Counting my pennies presently to see if I can afford one of these spots. This author does amazing work.

A little redo of my commissions. Now available via Ko-fi too!

If interested, please PM me or check out my Ko-fi here!

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Why do I love him so much?

Mistake

Pairing. Dark Bucky Barnes x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Rule number one in your relation - never try to leave Bucky.

WARNINGS: Violence; Toxic Relationship.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

His metal fingers squeeze hard against your throat, his hold unwavering even with your nails weakly clawing at him. Your eyes roll, your body desperate for air.

Bucky clicks his tongue, faking a pout.

“Aw, my baby can’t breathe?” he mocks you, but you can’t bring yourself to care about his tone. Not when your lungs are painfully burning, strength leaving your body at an alarming pace.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before trying to rat out on me, babe. I don’t appreciate my girl being sneaky around my back.” he growls, all hints of mockery now gone.

His grip tightens and you cough, the lack of air hitting cryptic levels as you start to hyperventilate.

Bucky reaches closer, nuzzling your nose with his in an almost endearing gesture, one that contrasts with the evil position he has you in.

“Never again, okay? You’re not pulling that type of shit ever again, understood?” his voice is dead serious, ignoring how you struggle. You can barely say a word but Bucky somehow understands your submission, finally releasing you.

You fall on the ground with your body completely limp, your throat burning as precious air finally fills it.

“You better not repeat this again.” he orders, darkness looming over his face as he looks at you.

“Cause next time, you won’t get off the hook so easily.”

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Is there such a thing as wholesome smut? I’m pretty sure this author just wrote it.

Some Alpha: Part 8

Fandom: Marvel (ABO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

Warning: smut - fingering

A/N: slowly and surely. we’re getting close to the mating chapter!!!

Bucky couldn’t make it to your class today. He was called in for work early to supervise some trial runs. Despite you being so understanding and supportive of Bucky, he still felt like he was failing you. Even though you had a smile on his face and made him promise to come by after he gets off of work, he still couldn’t help that he was disappointing you, and he hated that.

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Oh no! I don’t want him to lose his softness.

Some Alpha: Part 4

Fandom: Marvel (ABO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

A/N: Yes, THE Lance Tucker.

Bucky didn’t like that you were on your suppressants again. He loved the intoxicating scent of cinnamon and vanilla coming off you. But he also knew that you needed it for your safety, which is top priority above all else. Fuck whatever he wants. He just wants you safe. But occasionally, he’ll get a real whiff of you and it’ll just render him speechless and frozen.

“Bucky? Helloooo?” you’re waving your hand in front of his face.

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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These two are adorable!

Some Alpha: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel (ABO AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

warning: smut under cut

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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You have me on the edge of my seat with this one. Kudos.

Heal - I

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader (female)

MASTERLIST

🦅 Summary: As a nightmare doesn’t ease up, you have no choice but to take the plunge and try to wake Bucky.

Warnings: Descriptions of sexual assault, violence, forced knotting and claiming/marking, trauma, bond breaking, angst, injured reader, near death experience, lots of emotions, smut

Word count: 1,725

You were well accustomed to Bucky's screams in the night. Although they were a regular occurrence, they still made your bones shiver and forced you to clamp your hands over your ears to try and block them out. You usually held your breath until you heard Steve barge into his room to calm him down, but you still found yourself sleepless in the hours remaining until dawn.

Part of you wanted to run for the hills. Part of you wanted to slide into his bed and wrap your arms around him, pulling him against your chest and whisper sweet nothings into his messy hair. That part was bigger, but it was also more terrifying. Because even though every part of your anatomy gagged for the only alpha you had only truly wanted, you were also shit scared of him. Not of the Winter Solider, which most people were, but of him. Of Bucky. Of the rejection you'd know you'd have to face if he knew how you felt. Because even though you knew he wasn't actually your alpha, and you knew he would never be interested, you weren't sure you could survive actually hearing him say it. Which was the reason why you kept your distance and protected your sanity.

But tonight was different. Steve was on a mission, accompanied by Sam, Natasha and Tony. That meant only you and Bucky were sleeping on your floor of the compound, with Bruce and Clint a level below and Thor away in Asgard. So when those petrifying sounds ricocheted through your skull, you knew you were the only one to hear them. Which meant you had no choice. You had to go to him.

Your legs were trembling beneath you as you inched towards your bedroom door, opening it as quietly as possible and shuffling through without lifting your socked feet off the floor. Your chest felt like it was about to explode as your heart boomed with such ferocity and you had to keep reminding yourself to breathe as you fumbled your way towards his room. You chewed on your lip as you rested a hand on the doorknob, bracing yourself what you might be about to enter into. You knew that sometimes Bruce had to come and sedate him, and there were even times when both Steve and Bucky had emerged the next morning with busted up faces from having a physical fight. Sure, you were a well trained agent who never usually shied away from a fight, but this was different. You knew you'd never be able to hurt Bucky, even if he was the Winter Solider. Put in that situation, in the situation you were in now, you were just a vulnerable omega who couldn't even stand her own ground.

Another shrieking cry jolted you out of your thoughts and you whimpered involuntarily. This was not the cry of a violent man, but that of someone in extreme pain. Without hesitation, you flung the door open and ran in, taking barely a second to survey the layout of the foreign room before you were at the beside. Bucky was still asleep, his eyes screwed shut as he grimaced and panted. Sweat coated his forehead, his hair sticking to it as well as the pillow that had started to slide up against the headboard as he tossed and turned.

"Bucky-" you could barely hear yourself over the sound of the blood coursing through your veins, which meant he certainly hadn't. You cleared your throat, barely trusting yourself to try again, before speaking up. "Bucky!" This time you leant forward, shaking his damp shoulders to try and bring him back to reality. "Bucky its okay, you're okay. C'mon, wake up for me, you're okay", you brushed the hair from his face, cupping his cheek. You were pushing back the panic that was forming at the proximity you were to him and you instead used it to your advantage, touching him in the ways you had only dreamed in order to bring him out of his own.

Just as you were about to consider that this was a losing battle, Bucky froze. His eyes flew open and you let go of his face, stumbling backwards in shock. "Bucky, I-". Suddenly you were back where you started, a trembling mess whose instinct was to drop to her knees and submit to her alpha. He sat up straight, staring straight at you as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.

"Y/N?" He tilted his head slightly and squinted in the darkness as you tried to sustain a whimper. Your stomach was churning and you clamped your legs together as you willed the slick to retract.

"Are you okay?" you whispered with a gulp. He nodded, relaxing slightly as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Yeah. Thank you."

You nodded and started to glance around the room, unable to look at him any longer. You had awoken your alpha from his precious slumber without his permission, and although you knew that was the right thing to have done, your hormones were saying otherwise.

"Are you okay?" You were surprised to hear the words come out of Bucky's own mouth, but as you glanced over at him and noticed his flaring nostrils, you hung your head in shame. He could clearly smell the panic that was overtaking your body and you probably reeked of omega right now. Sure, you'd never explicitly hidden your status from your colleagues, but you kept it private, dealing with your heats yourself and using your suppressants discreetly. You chewed on your lip once again, this time tasting blood as you nodded and tried to compose yourself. With a sigh, Bucky pulled back the bedsheets and beckoned for you to come forward.

"C'mon, you can't just stand there. I feel terrible and you need to relax. Hell, so do I. Come here, will you."

You were frozen on the spot, not entirely sure what he was asking. He sensed that, closing his eyes for a second as he snorted under his breath.

"Omega. Come and sit with me."

Well now you had no choice. You practically flew off the floor and under the covers, welcoming Bucky's flesh arm as it snaked around your back and you curled up into his shoulder.

"Sorry," you mumbled without looking up.

"Don't be," you felt Bucky's stubble brush against your cheek as he shook his head. "I forgot how scary a tormented alpha can be. Let alone a tormented alpha who used to be a brainwashed assassin. You should have just let me ride it out."

"I couldn't do that," you rushed out, already starting to relax and feel more comforted than you had in a long time. His scent was intoxicating, and although he still smelt of fearful memories, it was still comforting to you because it was distinctly him.

You lay like that in silence for a while longer until at some point, you drifted into oblivion. It was a dreamless sleep, wrapped in your alpha like you'd always wanted.

Until it wasn't. While you might have been calmed, Bucky was not. He hadn't fully come out of the nightmare, and he had hoped that having you against him would help that. Admittedly he was ashamed the omega he'd been pinning for since coming to live at the compound had to see him in that state, but he couldn't pretend that having her in his bed was a completely knew kind of comfort. Except Bucky hadn't shared a bed with another in over 40 years, so when he inevitably slipped back into that same nightmare, the feeling of a warm body against his disorientated him. It was strange and it was not supposed to be there. The only reason it could be there was if it was going to harm him.

Your eyes flew open the second the cold metal squeezed your windpipe. You wanted to call for Bucky, but it was no use; the creature hovering above you was not him. Yes, it was his body, but his mind was asleep, and the pieces that still remained of the Winter Soldier had pushed forward to the surface. You tried to claw at his hands, at his face, at anything but it was no use. He was a pent-up alpha assassin, fuelled by an artificial super serum. You were no match.

As you wined through his grasp, the nightmare-frenzied Bucky started to take in the girl beneath him. The omega beneath him. She wasn't here to murder him; she was here to test him. Maybe she was a gift, or maybe she was a slave. Either way, she smelt amazing, and his body was yearning for her. His toes curled as he reached down and freed his throbbing penis, letting it rub against her bare legs.

You cried out as you suddenly realised what was going on. He wanted you. Not in the way that you wanted him, but he wanted to take you. To have you. To violate you. You tried to break free as much as possible, weakly kicking against him and pulling at his hair, but it was no use. Although he was no longer choking you, his metal hand remained stern around your neck to hold you in place, applying just enough pressure to halt any cries that tried to escape. His flesh hand meanwhile was pawing at you, squeezing your nipples hard before fisting your vagina. What only hours ago had been crying out for him was now locked up and trying desperately to reject his efforts, which only made him try harder.

"Bucky, please" you mumbled but it was no use - he was gone. This was not your Bucky. Your Bucky would hate himself for this. Your Bucky would certainly never want to look at you again after this. Just as you started to drift away, to blur out what was going on and sink into nothingness, you felt the full force of his penis lurch into you and you had no choice but to succumb to his thrusts. It wasn't until after he had ridden you so hard you bled that he let his knot pop and he sunk his teeth into the tear-soaked gland just below your jawline. Only then did you fully collapse into the darkness.

🫀Part II

To be added to my Bucky taglist, comment below

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Cackling maniacally at Bucky getting schooled by feisty omega

Mr. Grumpy (1)

Summary: Bucky hates omegas. You change his mind.

Pairing: Alpha!(Mobster)Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers

Warnings: angst, language, a/b/o, grumpy Bucky, scenting, feisty omega, mentions of erections/knotting/kidnapping

Square filled: Bucky Barnes

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Mr. Grumpy masterlist

13 k Followers ‘Lucky #13’ Celebration masterlist

“Not again,” Bucky Barnes, the kingpin of Brooklyn grumbles. “Steve, can you take care of that needy omega. I bet she will come here and crawl onto my lap.”

“Buck, that’s the waitress,” Steve shakes his head when you walk toward his friend to take his order. “See, she’s wearing the new uniform.”

“That’s a black dress and,” a deep guttural noise leaves the alpha’s throat when you step closer. “Heels. She doesn’t look like a waitress.”

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Freaking perfect. I need more of these two.

knife party [knife play part 2]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 7,355

Warnings: ABO, lots of bodily fluids, magical healing vagina, mild angst, dirty talk, claiming, mentions of blood/injury, stealing cars, a whole rainbow spectrum of Bucky, and knotting.

Listening to: This Is Love by Air Traffic Controllers

Summary: Part 2 to this. They're on the run and Bucky goes into rut.

Author's Note: Well. Someone asked if I'd continue knife play... and I kinda messed up my wip list and needed something to post, so, here's part 2 to knife play.

A while ago I made up my own ABO rules with a friend, and I still use them. ABO is so much fun.

want to be tagged? lemme know.

my masterlist

"Who sent you?" the Winter Soldier asked as he marched toward the forest, stepping over one of the guards he'd just killed.

You had to avoid one of the bodies, almost walking into him, as you replied, "SHIELD."

He didn't seem to like that answer but didn't stop as he barreled onward into the woods. You struggled to walk next to him, deciding to go behind him and let him make a path through the dense underbrush. After a few minutes, you asked, "What are you going to do?"

"Run," he replied, and you had an idea.

"You could come with me," you offered, and he stopped.

Turning to face you, his face the picture of determined rage, he only said one word, but you didn't argue, "No."

You weren't as scared as you'd been, but he was still intimidating. It wasn't until he looked around that you were able to ask, "What's the plan?"

He was walking again and didn't answer you. Part of you wanted to demand answers, but you also didn't want to push your luck. What was worse was that you didn't want to leave him, and you wanted to stay with him if he wouldn't return with you. It probably had more to do with him fucking you not even fifteen minutes ago, but you weren't some horny Omega trying to please a potential mate. As terrifying as that had been, you'd seen something change in him and couldn't abandon him.

Your abilities also meant you could control your own hormones. Your heats were easy, practically nothing compared to other Omegas. And that meant that your baser urges were easier to ignore. The idea that his dick was so good you'd throw your career away was laughable. But the look in his eyes after killing those guards was different. Your idea that he was an experiment solidified, and you weren't going to just let him fend for himself.

A couple of hours later, you were doing your best to keep up with him as you crept around the edge of the tree line. He hadn't said a word the entire time, but neither had you. You were worried he'd demand you leave or make it so you didn't have a choice but let him go, so you did your best to be helpful and quiet.

As he was breaking into a car, an old Volks Wagon Beetle, he looked your way for the first time in a while. Pulling open the driver's door, he left it open and walked around the front of the car. You hesitated for a moment, but once it was clear that this was your invitation to go with him, you took it.

You got in and asked, "Screwdriver?"

The Winter Soldier just grimaced, which was fine. You twisted in your seat and dug in the back, almost giggling when you found a toolbox. Sitting back in your seat and holding a flathead screwdriver up, you got to work. You were backing out and on the road only a few minutes later.

"Aren't they going to be looking for you?" you asked. The silence in the small car was probably going to drive you nuts.

He'd been staring straight ahead, ignoring you while you tried and failed to get the radio to work, but you saw him turn his head out of the corner of your eye before he said, "Yes."

"Okay," you said, knowing this was not okay, "I have to find a place with a phone, then—"

"No," he cut you off but didn't say anything else.

You were getting frustrated and explained, "I have intel and need to tell my contact where to pick it up."

"Burn it," he offered, staring out the windshield again.

"No," you said, imitating his monosyllabic bullshit, but added, "You want everyone trying to find us when we go back to grab it?"

He didn't reply, but you knew you won. Despite not explaining his plan, you decided to let him know what you were going to do, "I already dropped it. I just need to let them know where and that I'm going on leave. They'll already know about… you, so I need to let—"

"Or they assume you're dead," he said, the longest sentence yet.

You thought about this and said, "Shit. That's better than what I was thinking. Fine."

The silence returned, and the sun was going down. Every few hours, he would ask you to stop next to a parked car, siphon the gas, and it was back to driving. By the time the sun was coming up, and it was clear that you were getting tired, he broke the deafening silence again.

"Next left," he said, and you wondered if you'd be able to fall asleep before he filled the tank.

To your relief, he directed you to a parking garage and instructed, "In the back."

You passed out almost as soon as you killed the engine. Driving for nearly 14 hours after trekking through a forest was hard when you had music and someone to talk to, but you'd had neither. Thankfully, he waited for you to wake up on your own instead of jerking you awake.

As you stretched out the tension and stiffness in your back from sleeping in a car, you asked through a yawn, "Do you... eat?"

All you got in return was a glare, and you'd started to understand his stilted communication: that glare was an affirmative. Relaxing into the seat, you said, "I need food, and coffee would be a good idea."

He moved, leaning over in his seat, before holding a wad of cash out to you.

You took the money and looked at him warily, "You just carry this on you?"

Again, he glared, but this one was a negative. You could figure out later how he got the correct currency; you only cared about getting something in your stomach. A few miles later and you were parking next to a small bakery. He waited in the car, ducking down as you went inside.

The bakery was cute, and you were able to get not only food and coffee but directions to a nearby store. Back in the car, you took a long drink of the hot coffee before you started driving.

"Wrong way," he said, but you shook your head.

As you took another wrong turn, according to him, you pointed out, "You can't go around dressed like that."

Another stop, and you were back at the car, tossing a bag at him, "We can burn that stuff later."

You had parked out of the way behind the clothing store you'd just been in. After handing him his new clothes, you started changing. Neither of you looked like civilians, which would be a problem, but you'd just solved it. When you pulled the new sweater over your head, you were met with his blue eyes staring at you.

"Get changed," you said as you pushed your pants down.

He stood for another moment before nodding and pulling his shirt off. He'd turned around as he started to take his belt off, and you studied the scars on his back. If you hadn't already known that he'd been a science project, the state of his back would have had you asking what happened.

Tearing your eyes away, you grabbed his discarded clothes as he pulled on the red shirt. Tossing the bag filled with things to burn later into the backseat, you waited next to the driver's door for him.

You had questions, but they could wait. For now, getting whoever used to be the Winter Soldier somewhere safe was more important. He mirrored your position, opening the passenger door and leaning against the car as he said with a grimace, "Thank you."

That was not expected, and you shrugged it off before asking, "What's next?"

"We hide," he offered, looking around before he added, "We should get moving."

🔪

His name is Bucky, well, James Buchanan Barnes, but that came much later. He hadn't seemed to know he even had a name until a week after the escape. You didn't push him for information at first, too worried that it might set something off or just piss him off. Now you know better.

The Winter Soldier had been terrifying, but Bucky was a pushover, sort of. He was still scary, but you weren't worried about setting him off. Getting close to six months on the run and almost four of those months being completely isolated in the middle of nowhere Canada, you didn't think you'd enjoy the simplicity of being on the run.

He'd wanted to hide out in a city. Yes, hiding in plain sight and blending in would be easy, and so would getting food, but going entirely off the grid would be better for the long term. Bucky didn't resist and enjoyed certain aspects, like chopping wood.

Getting the abandoned cabin back to livable conditions had been a bit of a struggle, but worth it. The dense trees surrounding the long-forgotten building made it unlikely for anyone to find it accidentally.

Plus, he'd been right about SHIELD assuming you were dead. Legally, you'd been dead since the day your mission went pear-shaped, but it didn't bother you. This meant no one was looking for you, and you didn't have to hide like Bucky did, but it also meant you didn't have to go full Unibomber in the woods. You could go into town and buy supplies or gas up the car, and no one seemed to care. They were just happy for the business and only asked the usual questions. Where you from? You just visiting? Do you know this person or that person? Nothing you couldn't handle.

By the time the snow started, you and Bucky had settled into a nice routine. You'd go into town every other week; the trip there was a few hours, so you didn't like going more often than necessary. The typical day started with breakfast, and then you'd go hunting or do some chores, followed by Bucky chopping more wood than was needed while you dealt with any additional chores or cooking.

Once you figured out who he was and realized he had no idea, you borrowed some books from the library. He didn't seem happy when he discovered that he was an infamous fallen soldier, but it didn't bother him for long. Bucky still didn't talk much, but he was making progress. Whoever he was before HYDRA was probably long gone, but this new person wasn't that bad.

The only point of contention was you abandoning everything. Bucky did not like it, and when you were particularly curious about him one night, he told you just to go back to your real life. Obviously, you hadn't, but you knew that this troubled him. Eventually, he'd get over it, or you could take him with you. If you explained who he really was and what was done to him, maybe things would be different. But he is far from being ready for that, and not because you like playing house with him.

The first time you met had not been discussed, not even hinted at, but that didn't mean you didn't think about it. Or want to do it again. Out of the tactical gear, Bucky was delightful to look at. You were aware that you could dose him again, but that was wrong. Bucky was barely accepting that you wanted to be in the middle of the woods with him; you didn't need to trick him into bed. Plus, he didn't seem to understand what you could do, and he didn't want to talk about it. Besides, if anything were going to happen, it would be a long way out. Luckily, your heat didn't seem to affect him as long as you keep your levels in check.

You glance out the window; he's still chopping wood without a coat, only that red shirt you bought him ages ago and a pair of jeans while the snow is falling heavily around him. The cold didn't seem to bother him, and you weren't complaining about the view. As much as you'd deny it, you did enjoy quiet moments like these. The distant sound of the ax splitting a log as you surreptitiously watch him while pretending to read a book in case he caught you. He'd insisted that morning that you take a break, and you hadn't pushed back. If Bucky wanted to do all the chores while you read, then who were you to stop him?

You nearly panic when you watch him slam the ax down and rush toward the door. He didn't move quickly unless he needed to, and running to the cabin? Never. No reason to run here unless you wanted to.

He burst through the door and looked terrified but didn't say anything. Slamming the door behind him, he walked toward the sink and got a glass of water.

"What's wrong?" you asked, getting up and putting your book down.

All he did was shake his head as he refilled his glass. You slowly approached him, but that seemed to startle him. He spun to face you, panic all over his face as he said dismissively, "Nothing." Then he rushed past you, nearly knocking you on your ass, before he slammed the bedroom door.

As you tried to follow him, just to find out what was going on, you heard the lock click. With a sigh, you knocked on the door and started to ask, "What's going—"

"Nothing!" he shouted from the other side, "Leave me alone!"

"Moody ass," you muttered, giving the door a kick before going back to the kitchen. Whatever happened, you'd find out eventually, and you decided to clean the glass he'd used while making yourself another cup of coffee.

When you sat down again, it was clear that you wouldn't be able to read, not that you were before this. The sounds coming from the other room were distinct, but you didn't understand why. It took you longer than you'd like to admit to realize what was happening, but once you did, you were pounding on the door, "Let me in, you stubborn asshole! Goddamit, Bucky! I can help, but you need to talk to me!"

His only response was a frustrated moan and the furious sound of male masturbation. You tried to calm your voice because you knew you hadn't done anything to set him off. The fear that he'd been on suppressants since the 40s was your focus as you cautiously asked the door, "When was your last rut?"

It took him a little bit, but he replied, "Before the war… I think."

"Shit," you couldn't hide your reaction.

"I'll be… fine," he struggled to speak, the odd slapping noise picking up speed, "Just, fuuuuck… just leave me alone."

"I can hel—"

"No!" he shouted, something heavy hitting the door, "Leave me alone!"

"Bucky, I—"

"Stop talking!"

🔪

For two days, you waited. Bucky didn't come out of the bedroom, he didn't eat or drink, and you were pretty sure he wasn't even sleeping. You'd been so focused on keeping your heat to yourself that you hadn't noticed how his scent had changed. With two days of sitting and waiting under your belt, you were pretty sure he'd been trying to hide his rut from you. The last couple of days before this, he'd been spending as much time away from you as he could manage. It wasn't noticeable, just him offering to do things that kept him out of the cabin and away from you.

You'd tried pointing out that he was being an idiot. This was the one thing your ability was helpful for, and he was choosing to suffer. You weren't about to offer to help him in any other way, although you were not opposed to that; you could at least settle him down so he could sleep. You might even be able to make it so he could give his dick a break and eat something without even being in the same room. Too bad he wouldn't even let you explain.

The same hormones and pheromones that could drive someone insane with lust could also calm them. It was as easy as keeping your own heat under control, but you wouldn't do anything without him asking. You weren't being petty; you wanted his consent. After that first time and the mental gymnastics you went through, you never wanted to force him to do anything ever again. Even though you were literally built to help someone through a rut, you weren't going to make him do anything he didn't want to.

You knock on the door every few hours and offer him a meal and some water, but he's refused all of it. The smell of him permeates everything. At first, you'd only noticed it when you were near the door, but now it was seeping into the wood. This cabin would probably never smell the same.

You check the time and figure you can wait a little longer before trying to get him to eat again. He's been quiet for about an hour, and you hope he's sleeping. Then you hear the lock click. Sitting up in the armchair, you watch as the door slowly opens, but only a few inches.

From inside the dark room, you see Bucky's exhausted face. You can only see part of it, but it's clear that he's drenched in sweat and running on fumes. His right hand grips the doorframe, and he leans on it heavily as a wave of his scent rushes out of the room. It's so much worse than before, he smells rancid, and you don't know what to do as his tired eyes meet yours.

Before you can even think of something to say, he speaks, his voice hoarse and weary, "Please."

It takes a second for what he said to sink in, but once it does, you scramble out of the chair and rip your shirt over your head. Tossing it behind you, you say, "I can explain later. You just need to relax."

You get to the door and already have a steady supply of calm the fuck down coming off you, and you see his face relax as he pulls you into the bedroom. You hadn't expected that, but you realize, probably too late, that you should have at least explained why you took your shirt off.

Turning to rush through your explanation, you are struggling to not stare at a very naked Bucky, but you're only able to mutter, "Hormones… doesn't work if my... um... covered— you're just whole-ass naked."

You yelp as he spins you around and pins you to the bed. This was not like the first time. Your ass is in the air, and you know he misunderstood you, but you aren't mad. You'd thought about this so many times in the past six months and didn't want to push him, but there would be consequences. Along with your control over your body chemistry and others, you were also very fertile and currently in heat.

"Bucky, you need—oh, fuuuuuck," you tried, you really did, but he was too far gone to listen to you, and finally having him inside you again felt too good.

Despite your efforts to control your heat, being around a rutting Alpha seemed to negate that, especially when you'd fantasized about that same Alpha doing precisely this. It was impossible to remember that you needed to explain... something to him, but you could deal with that later.

His thighs flush against yours, arms wrapped around your waist, and he starts to grind against you as he mutters, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…."

"S'good," you whimper before he starts to move.

Very different from the first time, Bucky thrusts are fluid and immediately rough. He's pounding into you and grunting each time he bottoms out. And this time, he is getting his entire length inside you. All you can do is take it as you feel him press his forehead between your shoulder blades.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck—fuuuuuuuuck," he was chanting with each thrust, then shouted as he came.

You feel his cock jerking inside you and wait for his knot, but it doesn't come. His breathing is still ragged, but he seems calmer. You increase the pheromones you're letting loose, but feeling him like this is distracting.

"Sorry 'bout that," he whispers against your back, his hands stroking your sides, "Next time'll be better for you, doll."

"What?" you ask, stunned at how his voice sounded on top of everything else. Was that an accent? Did he always have an accent and just never spoke enough for you to notice it? And what accent was it?

He chuckled, and you were officially freaking out as he said, "C'mon, doll, round two."

Then he pushed you over and up to the middle of the bed, settling between your legs. He moved you so effortlessly you can't do anything but gawk at him, and it gets somehow worse: Bucky's smiling. A wide, unabashed smile as he ducks his head before he says something. You don't even remember what you had to tell him, let alone how to listen—comprehending language? Nope. Nothing. All you can do is stare at him because he's also still balls deep inside you.

It isn't until he repeats your name a couple of times and the smile starts to fade that you realize you missed something, "What?"

"You okay?" he asked, the smile back, and everything's okay again.

You nod, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Seem a little distracted," he says as he rolls his hips. You bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning, but your body betrays you. Bucky's head drops as he feels the rush of slick.

"Try this again," he says as he leans closer and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

All you can manage is to nod then his lips are against yours. You didn't think you'd remember your own name at this point, and then he starts to move again. As he rolls his hips lazily, his lips part, and you feel his tongue run along your bottom lip.

You give in, moaning as he kisses you. It isn't until you feel his teeth as he tugs on your bottom lip that you notice how loud you are. Breaking away, you whisper, "Sorry."

Resting his forehead against yours, the unfamiliar but delightful sound of him laughing has you trying to look up at him as he says, "Nothin' to apologize for. 'M tryin' to make this good for you, and you make such pretty noises."

"It's so good," you whine, gripping the back of his neck to keep from pulling his hair. You'd offered to cut it a few times, but he refused. Now you're struggling to resist grabbing two fistfuls and pulling to see what kind of noises he might make.

He shifts above you, his left hand behind your knee and pushing it toward your chest as he thrusts with more purpose. Soon the dark room is filled with the sound of his body slamming against yours, and you lose your inner battle at leaving his hair alone.

Bucky moans as you tug on his hair, then he's fucking you faster as he says, "C'mon, doll, lemme feel it."

"Fuck," you barely gasp the word out as you start to cum.

"Good girl, keep it going, don't hold out on me," he says, pushing himself up so he can drive his cock into you harder.

Your back arches as Bucky's thrusts start to get sloppy, and he collapses on top of you, "Gonna give you what you want. Fuck, little cunt isn't gonna let me go until—oh, fuck."

He takes a deep breath before his mouth falls open, and his body shakes. The sigh he lets out as he falls on top of you isn't from just cumming, but you don't have the brain power to analyze it right now. Feeling this full and with his body pressing you into the mattress, you are having a hard time caring about anything else.

You giggle as you feel him pressing his lips to your neck, the stubble on his cheeks tickling you. He pushes himself up, biting his bottom lip as he looks you over. His eyes drag over every inch of you that he can see, and his usual grimace is replaced with a very different expression. You'd seen this before, you were sure of it, but never on him, only in pictures from a history book, and those pictures did not do him justice.

"Always took me a while to knot," he said, the weird accent back again, "But you don't seem to mind."

As he flops onto his back, dragging you with him, you sit up and look down at him. His hands are on your thighs, running up to your hips, then back down to your knees, as he winks up at you, "You look good like this. Might be my favorite, but this needs to go…." Bucky's voice trails off as he leans forward and unhooks your bra, then he falls back on the bed with a sigh, "Yeah, this is much better."

That same look on his face, and you were struggling to figure out what was going on. Instead, you focused on what you would call this particular expression. Smug? No, but it was close, maybe confident? Cocky? Fearless? Arrogant? You know it doesn't matter, but it's so different from who he'd been while you've known him. And why was he talking so much?

"You need a break, doll?" he asked, pulling you out of your head.

You'll figure this out later. Or Bucky might go back to normal once his rut passes, but it doesn't matter. You shake your head and decide to enjoy this, "Not yet. Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Callin' you what?" he asked with a grin.

"Doll," you clarify, even though he knows. You don't think you'll mind if this is what he's like from now on. This playful, flirty shit is fun once you get used to it.

His hands slide up your thighs and around your hips to grip your ass. Pulling you down as he pushes his hips up, he lies, "I never called you that."

"Must have misheard you," you shoot back, leaning forward so you can roll your hips, "My mistake."

His back arches and he moans, "Just like that, doll. Do it again for me?"

You can't help but laugh, and you also don't stop. Setting a slow but steady rhythm with your hips, you aren't as distracted as before. Feeling his hands leave you, you get the urge to slap him as he folds them behind his head. You look at him and want to call him an asshole, but that smile is back. He has no business being able to smile like that.

"Don't stop," he says, thrusting his hips, and you realize you'd stopped.

Bucky had used a little too much force, and you fell forward but caught yourself before you smacked your head against his. Your face is only a few inches away from his, and he whispers, "Show me what those hips can do."

When you didn't move, he repeated his action, thrusting a little harder this time as he asked, "Never been on top before?"

"What?" you asked, very confused and distracted by too many things to count.

"It's easy, doll," he cooed, the hands on your hips started guiding you as he moved under you, "Just relax and—"

"I know how to ride a dick," you grit out, planting your hands on his chest a second before you snap your hips. The look on his face was worth the amount of effort this was about to take.

To your delight, he didn't seem as cocky and didn't put his hands behind his head again as you fucked him. The urge to put a hand on his throat kept sneaking into your head, but you resisted; he didn't make it easy, though. If he wasn't staring down between your bodies and running his mouth about how good you take him, he was looking up at you and biting his bottom lip. Soon, he was moaning and gasping as he watched you, and then he started meeting your thrusts.

His hands were still on your hips as he fucked up into you; this small amount of power he took back had him running his mouth again, "Gettin' close, doll?"

All you did was glare at him as you panted. Of course, you were close, but you couldn't talk about it; you were busy.

"Your little cunt starts grabbin' me when you get close," he said, his voice hoarse, but his movement didn't falter, "C'mon, use me."

"Oh, fuck!" you shout as you grind against him.

Bucky's grip on your hips tightens, lifting you off him as he keeps going, "You know better than to stop, doll."

Your arms give out, and you collapse on top of him, gripping his shoulders as he uses the leverage to his advantage. Tucking your head against his neck as you cry out because you're still cumming, you hear him say, "Good girl, there's my good girl. Keep going. Give me a little more, just a little more. Need to feel you cum fo—fuckfuckfuckfuuuuuuck…."

His fingers dig into your hips as he pushes himself as deep as he can into you. It isn't until you finally start to regain control of your brain that you notice he still hasn't knotted you. Propping yourself up, you can't help but grin when you see the blissed-out look on his face. He might not have knotted, but he was definitely satisfied for a while.

"You need water," you whisper before kissing his cheek, "And food."

Before he can grab you, you are off the bed and heading out to the kitchen. You hear him groan as you get two glasses and pull out some of the sandwiches you'd made earlier. All that nervous energy while you stood vigil outside the bedroom had you preparing so many things, and now it wasn't going to waste and made taking a food break much easier.

Bucky, still naked, sat at the small table as you placed a plate and glass in front of him. He takes the water first, chugging it, before asking, "How'd you make these so fast?"

You, also still naked, roll your eyes as you grab his glass, "I made them yesterday while you were busy."

As you refill his glass, he asks, "For me?"

"No," you say as you place the glass in front of him, "Some other asshole who didn't know he was in rut."

"I knew I was going into rut," he shot back before taking a bite of his sandwich, "Just didn't think it'd be this bad—damn, this is good."

"It's peanut butter and jelly. Calm down," you say as you start eating.

Bucky is focused on eating and quiet for the first time in a while. It isn't until he finishes his second glass of water that you notice how quiet it was before. He sets the glass down, his eyes are on you, and he smiles.

"Need another sandwich?" you ask, knowing you shouldn't talk with your mouth full but being the subject of his undivided attention is more than you can handle.

"No, thank you," he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, still watching you closely. Bucky seems to be thinking before he says, "Maybe something else if you don't mind."

"Sure," you say as you try to swallow, taking a drink of water before you ask, "What do you want?"

That life-ruining smile is back, and you know you fell into a trap. The smug bastard winks at you as he says, "You." Then he's between your legs.

You're still holding half a sandwich as he gets your legs over his shoulders. The sandwich falls from your hand as Bucky ducks his head and starts to lick. Leaning back in the wooden chair is not comfortable, but it's necessary as the hand that used to have a sandwich plants itself on the back of his head.

It doesn't take much before he figures out what to do, and you're cumming again. He lifts his head, his face covered in your slick, and asks, "Did you cum already?" When all you did was glare at him, he shrugged, "Says a lot more about you than it does me, doll."

"You did it again," you point out, wondering if he knows how different he's acting.

Straightening his back and eye level with you, he reaches to grab the back of the chair and pulls you closer, his face too close as he says in a dangerous voice, "I didn't do a damn thing."

"Bullshit," you whisper. You aren't scared, not even close, and push Bucky a little further, "What about how I just fucked you says I'm a "doll"?"

Cocking a brow, he asks, "You really wanna know?" You nod but hold your breath as he moves even closer. His lips brush against yours as he whispers, "Too bad, doll."

"Bucky!" you shout, slapping his chest as he laughs.

He stands, then picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bedroom, "We have more important things to do, doll. Quit asking ridiculous questions." Setting you on the bed, he kisses you, then says, "Present for me, doll."

You have to fight back the squeal of excitement. As much as you wanted to know why Bucky wasn't just calling you 'babe' like most would, you were hoping you might finally get his knot. There was this nagging feeling that you forgot something very important, but if it were so important, you wouldn't have forgotten it.

Ass in the air and resting on your elbows, you didn't try to look behind to see him. You knew he was there, and he'd take care of you. Instead of his hands or his cock, you feel his lips and tongue again. Arching your back and pushing against him, you whine, "That's not fair."

He pulls away for a moment and says, "No, it ain't."

You sigh as he tries to get his tongue as deep inside you as he can manage before he's back to teasing your clit. It doesn't take much before you're gripping the sheets, then he pulls back. You try to see why he'd stop when you were so close, but feel him push two fingers into you and don't care.

"Probably a bad time to ask, but," he starts, sliding his pointer and middle finger deep inside you, "How far are we taking this?"

You know from his tone what he's really asking: are you going to let him claim you? Right now is not the best time to make these sorts of decisions, but it isn't like he's some stranger. It's Bucky. You technically died for him and left your whole life behind for him. Why not give him this too? If it means you get to fuck him again, then there isn't a downside you can see. It would make staying in this cabin a lot more interesting.

"As far as you want," you say, not giving him any parameters other than those he gives himself. You might be dick drunk, but you could still be clever.

His thumb circles your clit, as he asks, "You sure 'bout that, doll?"

"Very," you moaned, your orgasm coming back with a vengeance.

Before your orgasm takes over, he's kneeling on the bed behind you. This isn't like when you came into the room or even when you were on top. Bucky is calm, almost lazily fingering you instead of trying to get his cock inside you as quickly as possible. It wasn't you trying to manipulate things with your ability, either. You had sort of forgotten about trying to keep him calm.

Hearing him sigh as he removes his fingers and lines his cock up with your entrance, he speaks like this is your last chance to back out, "I'll make it good for you, doll. Promise."

As he fills you, he moves closer, bending at the hips to drape his body over yours. With his chest pressed against your back and an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you close, he kisses you between your shoulder blades before he whispers against your skin, "'M gonna be good for you, doll."

Something about that has your brain trying to think through the heat haze, but it's hard and becomes nearly impossible as he starts to thrust. Already you can feel the band around the base of his cock beginning to swell, and you know he's going to knot this time.

Your brain feels like it's melting as his knot starts catching every time he bottoms out, making both of you moan once he gets it inside you. Whining as you start pushing back, desperate to make him feel good, to help him.

He's kissing up to the back of your neck, and then you feel him start to lick; you know what's coming. You tilt your head, showing him that you don't just want it but are ready for him to claim you. When he drops his head, resting his forehead against the junction of your neck and shoulder, you whine, "Please, Bucky…."

Bucky lifts his head, still thrusting steadily, but manages to say in a ragged voice, "No going back."

For a moment, one oddly lucid moment, you laugh as your mind races. This was a lot more than not going back from getting claimed. You were far beyond the point of no return with him, and you didn't want to go back anyway. Some part of you knew that you couldn't go back months ago when he cornered you on that mission, and the freedom of giving in to him was so much better than you could have imagined. Neither of you were human weapons now, and you didn't want anything else but to stay in this shitty little cabin with him. Even without all the other shit that led you to him, you'd still choose Bucky. Now all you had to do was say that without completely killing the mood, "Do it, coward." Close enough.

"Mine," Bucky growls as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

You're rigid under him as your orgasm rips through you, and you feel slick gush out of you around his cock. He bites harder as you feel his knot swell, locking him inside you, then his cock throbs as he starts to cum.

You focus on trying to breathe. It's all you need to do right now, but it's so hard. You don't notice that you're making noise until you feel Bucky release you. The bite stings, but you don't mind; it's helping you think. You've been knotted before, but nothing about Bucky is easy to manage, and his dick was almost too big without his knot adding more girth.

Nearly cumming again as he starts to lick the claiming mark, you hear him sigh before he starts absently grinding against you. He can't move much like this, but it still feels good. Then Bucky rolls both of you over. He holds you close as he asks, "How you doin', doll?"

"So good, you?" you reply and feel Bucky's dick noticeably throb in response.

You both laugh, and then you remember what you didn't think you forgot. Your mouth suddenly goes dry as you try to stay calm, and you ask, "Do you want to wait till that goes down before I give you bad news or…."

"No such thing as bad news," he says, pressing his lips to your neck.

"Yes, perspective, but—"

"If it's about your heat, I already know," he says, derailing your panic. Despite this revelation, he keeps saying, "You've been driving me nuts for the past two weeks with how good you smell. Couldn't stop thinking about making you mine."

There is no way he could know that. You were so careful, you knew that suppressing your heat wouldn't be a long-term solution, but you could do it once without a problem. You didn't notice you stopped breathing until he turned your head and made you look at him as he said, "Heightened senses, and you worry too much."

You sighed, "You could have said something."

He pressed his lips to your forehead before settling behind you, "I figured you knew about me and were trying to keep it to yourself."

"Wait," you said as you remembered something else. Doing your best to turn to look at Bucky, you ask in a rush, "Why are you talking so much? And what's with the accent?"

"Dunno," he said, pushing himself up and kissing you, "Just… feel like me again." Then his hand drifts down your body and settles over where his cock is trapped, and you both sigh.

You refuse to assume anything, but if he knew that you were in heat, he must know the risk of what you two had done and still were doing. With a carefully measured voice, you say, "Yeah, that might be a problem."

He didn't even hesitate before he spoke like you were talking about getting a new car or toaster, "We have some time. Grab a few medical books from the library, and we should be good."

"You are handling this so much better than I am," you said, unable to hide the shock in your voice.

"And you don't seem to remember that you saved me," he said so casually that you nearly broke your neck to glare at him. Before you could demand he explain it, he says, "Plus everything else you do. The least I can do is not be a dick about knocking you up."

Stunned into speechlessness, Bucky simply smiles and kisses you before he says, "And now you're mine." He kisses you again, then whispers, "My little Omega."

Completely overwhelmed and utterly demolished by what he said, your body puts the final nail in this coffin. You whimper as you cum, rocking your hips against him. This is way more than you can handle, and you assume that it's some combination of being claimed and still knotted, but you know that's not what did you in.

Bucky is unphased, kissing your shoulder as he enjoys the moment before you calm down. You lay there in silence for a few minutes before he asks, "How's the wood?"

"Um…" you say, trying to figure out how to answer, "...good? You're bigger than I remember."

You can feel him laughing, but still can't get away or backtrack before he says, "Thanks? I meant the firewood."

"Oh, we should be good for a few more days," you say, giving up on trying to recover from any of this. Bucky broke something in your brain, and he would just have to deal with it.

"Good," he says before he starts moving around. Settling between your legs, he starts grinding his hips against yours.

You aren't mad but stunned as you ask, "How do you still need more?"

He shrugs, but that life-ruining smile returns as he says, "My mate's in heat. Gotta give her what she needs."

"Anyone ever told you you're a bit much?" you ask, but reach up to pull him closer.

"Yes, many times," he says before he presses his lips to yours, then pulls back with a sigh, "This goes both ways, doll."

"What does?"

"You're mine," he says, kissing you again, and you feel his knot start to go down, but he's still hard. He rolls his hips, and you feel a mixture of cum and slick leak out of you before he fills you again, "And I'm your's."

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

Text

This was intense in all the best ways!

revenge of the kinks #10 - kinfe play (Winter Soldier x Reader)

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 4,437

Warnings: ABO, dark!Winter Soldier, cannon divergent, espionage, superheroes, weird superpowers, mild violence, angst, dubcon (but that’s if you didn’t know what the MC is thinking, and you do.. So.. only dubcon if you squint), and… smut.

Listening to: Rev 22-20 by Puscifer

Author's Note: Okay... I might have a problem. Please, read the warnings and I'd like to point out I'm not making anyone read this. Choose your own adventure, my guys. But this was also a lot of fun. Happy Halloween, ya sloppy bitches.

want to be tagged? lemme know.

my masterlist

Taking a steadying breath and pressing yourself flat against the cold concrete wall, you waited until the two guards passed. You were smirking to yourself as they walked without even looking back. You weren’t exactly the sneakiest person, but that’s why you got this easy assignment. Get in, get the files, and get out. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. It was like they weren’t even trying. Slipping down the dark hall behind the clueless men toward the room.

The sickly smell of antiseptic hit you first as you got the door open. The room was floor-to-ceiling white tiles with the same concrete floor. There was an exam table with stirrups and straps in the middle of the room that made you nervous, some industrial lighting fixtures, and a desk with a leather stool.

You’d never been a fan of doctors, especially those who worked in buildings like this, but you wouldn’t be here for long. In and out, that was the plan, and the plan was going so smooth. This whole mission had been surprisingly uncomplicated and was going well. You wondered if you’d get some sort of reward, maybe a bonus for absolutely nailing it.

You did your best to focus as you walked toward the simple wooden desk. It was hard to take your eyes off the bloody exam table, it was nearly impossible not to fixate on all the blood, but that wasn’t you’re problem. Kneeling, just in case, you searched the drawers and found the files you’d been sent to collect. Slipping them into your bag, you were done. The only thing left was getting out, and that just meant going back the way you came. You were crushing this spy shit, and your supervisor was worried because you knew barely any Russian. It was laughable.

Closing the door behind you had been necessary, but now you weren’t going to be able to tell if there was anyone on the other side. You waited and listened, but there wasn’t any sound, no footsteps or voices, only silence. You shut your eyes, resting your head for a moment against the cool tile wall, before gripping the handle and slowly opening it while hoping for the best.

“Fuuuuck,” you hissed as you made direct eye contact with one of the guards that had passed you. You hadn’t been tracking the time or their route; you didn’t think you’d need to be that careful.

One guard was shoving the other; the taller one that had seen you was muttering in Russian, his eyes wide with shock. You’d have a few seconds to handle them before they set off an alarm or called for help, and you used that time to run at them.

The short guard didn’t even turn around, scrambling away from you and shouting something, he seemed scared, but you were focused on the taller one. As you cocked your fist, his hands went up to cover his face before you made contact with the side of his head, and he went limp, slumping against the wall. Glancing down the corridor, you watched with a sinking feeling as the other guard disappeared around a corner at least twenty feet away, still screaming his head off.

Running as hard as you could, you’d barely made it to the opposite end of the hall before the lights all went red, and there was a panicked voice over the intercom. Mentally kicking yourself for not learning Russian, you did your best to backtrack and hope you got out.

But you knew hope wouldn’t cut it, and you ripped off the protective fabric along your neck and arms. If you were cornered, you wouldn’t be for long. You’d unload enough pheromones to take down an entire battalion, which would be enough to knock out the predominantly beta crew that worked in this building. Things hadn’t gone entirely to shit, and if you made it to the exit, you wouldn’t have to use the only thing that set you apart from others.

With your shitty plan ready and your arms and neck fully exposed just in case, you took what should have been the last turn to find a dead end. The door that should have been about thirty feet down the hall, the one you knew you’d entered through, was gone, and this corridor seemed shorter. Cautiously walking toward the wall as bile rose in your throat, you realized it was reinforced metal and must have come down when someone hit the panic button.

There were a few doors, but none would be an escape route. This building didn’t have windows and only a handful of doors that led outside. You started to panic when you heard footsteps approaching. They weren’t quick or light like the panicked guards; they were slow and heavy, determined and filled with purpose. You tried to get into any of the rooms, anything to get away from whatever was coming your way, but it was too late.

He, because as much as you didn’t think he was human, it was definitely male, stopped in the middle of the intersecting halls, boxing you into what was maybe a ten-by-ten foot box. A black mask covered most of his face, but even in the red light, you could see that it wasn’t designed with you in mind. A gas mask, or whatever it was, wouldn’t do much against you as long as he had skin exposed.

Slowly he started to approach, his boots making a heavy, echoing clunk with each steady step. You were backed against the metal barrier but couldn’t do anything yet; he needed to be just a little closer before you could do anything.

You were listening hard, not just for an increase in his breathing or a change of pace from the man approaching you, but for more people; they had to send more. Right now, you could hold this guy off on your own for maybe a few minutes, even if he was somewhat intimidating. Some people in your line of work seemed desperate to be the meanest or craziest person in the room, but you knew what they really were: slaves to biology. It didn’t matter how stoic or sadistic someone was, alpha or omega. Even betas weren’t exceptions. It was also gross, but you didn’t care about that right now.

It wasn’t until he raised his left hand that you realized how screwed you were. The voice over the intercom was still rambling, but now the words cut through your thoughts; it was in English now, “Evacuate! The Asset has been released! Evacuate!”

As you heard the plates of the metal arm, you looked at the face that was still covered and panicked. Everyone had heard rumors about this guy, but he couldn’t be real. There was no way that they would keep him at this medical facility, and they wouldn’t just sick him on some unknown threat. They had to have soldiers or some sort of police force on staff, aside from the unarmed rent-a-cops that ran from you. Unless it was a medical facility and there wasn’t anyone else to protect them. That would be insane. But that would explain why you’d been given this particular assignment: no armed guards, no one was supposed to be an actual threat. You remembered it on the briefing as you tried to melt into the unyielding metal behind you.

Without another thought, you used the only weapon you’d ever had when he was a few feet away, almost an arm’s length away. Out of fear, you closed your eyes and unleashed everything you had. You were an omega, but that’s where your abilities came from; your biology was weaponized. Not even another omega could resist when you let loose the stores of pheromones. On a good day, you could render a regular person to nothing but a writhing, cumming mess in a few seconds, again, ew. Depending on how much you released and how many people would determine how long and how severe the effects were.

You hadn’t just let out enough to subdue someone; you completely emptied yourself, but the inhuman assassin bearing down on you was nowhere near a regular person. You’d never done this before, and the last time you’d gone too far, you’d nearly killed a dozen people, but this guy wasn’t stopping.

You caught the glint off the knife he unsheathed in a ludicrous display before you were slammed against the metal barrier. The blade against your throat, digging into your skin, overwhelming pressure against the cartilage, but nothing else happened. Frozen in this moment, you held your breath as you were pinned to the barrier, hoping that whatever he was going to do would be as simple as a knife across your throat and bleeding out in a few minutes.

But nothing happened.

Flinching as his left arm started to move, you were shaking against the cold metal as he brought the metal hand to his face. The sound of that arm, the whirring and clicking, had your stomach clenching. The idea of those metal fingers touching you, hurting you, was more than you could stand, but that’s not what he was doing.

The black mask that covered all but an inch below his hairline was tossed aside. You barely registered the clattering of the heavy mask on the floor with what you were now looking at. No one had ever seen the Winter Soldier’s face, but you were on the receiving end of the world’s shittiest staring contest.

You couldn’t tell exactly what color his eyes were in the flashing red lights, maybe blue, but they could be green, but you knew the look on his face. Even if the Winter Soldier was a killing machine, he was very much male, still human, and most likely an alpha based on his build alone.

A new terror washed away the fear of the knife at your throat or the legendary assassin holding it there: he wasn’t incapacitated. If anything, he seemed to be thinking, and the longer he stared you down, the more you realized he looked confused.

With the building being evacuated along with who you’d just given a nuclear dose of fuck-me-pheromones, there wasn’t going to be an easy exit. You’d trained, you could fight. Against even a trained alpha, you could do enough damage to get away, but you’d never anticipated this. No one could have. This wasn’t what you were supposed to be dealing with ever; you didn’t even have a real weapon. No knives, guns, nunchucks, a couple of throwing stars, not even a purse with a brick in it or a pillow case with a few bars of soap; you had nothing. The closest thing you had to a weapon you’d just used, and he didn’t even seem to flinch. The Winter Soldier was just a story to the few who even knew about him, and even those who’d encountered him and survived would brush off any concerns. Hydra didn’t release this particular nightmare unless absolutely necessary, and only to overthrow a government or something.

You had nothing left in the proverbial tank, not that it would have done anything, and you couldn’t fight him. Blinking for the first time in what felt like an hour, your eyes refocused on his, and it was quickly becoming apparent that you wouldn’t need to fight.

The lighter iris of his eyes was receding, engulfed by his pupils until they were fully dilated. You heard his breathing become labored, and the metal arm moved too fast, pushing you harder against the barrier and knocking the breath out of you.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his as he moved closer. His body against yours felt like you were going to be crushed between him and the barrier, then his hips jerked toward you. The only coherent thought you had was that there were worse ways to die; at least he was cute, even if he did look at you like you could be lunch after he was done with you. Good bone structure was still important, right?

Trying to stay calm was thrown out the window as his lips parted, and in a hoarse voice, he rasped out, “Mine.” He sounded like he didn’t talk much, but that’s not what you were focused on. The metric fuck-ton of pheromones you’d hit him with had done their job. It’s the only reason he was simply holding the blade against your throat and hadn’t moved it.

The metal hand firmly planted in the middle of your chest tensed before it dropped down to the front of your pants. He tugged at your belt, pulling it away from your body but not enough to break it and his brows furrowed. You knew what he wanted, and it would be less stupid to cooperate, but only slightly.

One of the reasons you sought out this particular career path was your need for risk. It was hard to think of something dumber or more life-threatening than letting the Winter Soldier take out his pent-up sexual frustrations on you, but you couldn’t deny that spark of curiosity. It might kill you, but you had a chance, a tiny one, of surviving this. The danger slut in you was practically purring at the idea of what he wanted, even if it was entirely your fault that he wanted anything other than to kill you.

You gave him a slight nod, anything more and the blade at your neck might break the skin, and your hands were on your belt. You were alarmed that he hadn’t just torn your clothes off but hopeful that he wasn’t completely out of it. His coherency startled you, but it was clear that he wasn’t just some well-trained assassin. He might not be like you, born with some sort of fucked up ability, but he’d definitely been through something that changed him. More than brainwashing, but less than being created in a lab. He was an experiment but was still human enough to be susceptible to you.

Before you were able to finish unzipping your pants, he was pushing them down. The fabric dug into your thighs as the knife left your throat for a second, and part of you missed it. You should probably see someone after this, the knife at your throat should have scared you, but you’d liked it.

He only switched it to the metal hand. You didn’t dare look down as he mimicked you, undressing just enough, while he almost delicately dragged the edge of the blade along your cheek, and you liked this too. You really needed to see a shrink if you survived this, maybe daily appointments.

Again he spoke. This time it was more like a growl, “Mine.”

The heat from the parts of him that you were only vaguely aware of snapped you out of whatever hold his intense gaze, and the knife had had. Your eyes dropped to see his fingers wrapped around the biggest dick you’d ever seen, and the beginning of the band around the base confirmed that he was an alpha. You weren’t excited; if anything, you were pretty sure he’d break you in half with it or worse: make a new hole that could accommodate him.

Then he was kicking at your boots, and you complied, widening your stance as much as possible. He stepped between your feet, bending his knees as he stroked himself with his flesh hand while lining himself up.

His breathing was ragged as he pushed between your legs, the heat from the head of his cock forcing your hips forward, welcoming him. You didn’t fight your body; you needed your instincts to help you survive what he might do to you. It didn’t escape you that he seemed to be running on nothing but need; he didn’t seem to care that you weren’t presenting. He didn’t need any of the usual mating formalities. All he wanted was release.

You didn’t even have a moment to prepare yourself as he dragged along your folds before forcing his way into your body. Even though you weren’t a virgin and you’d taken your fair share of knots, without any prep or even your heat to relax you, there was a distinct sharpness as he tried to fill you in one thrust. He met resistance, and you nearly cried out in relief when he stopped. Something had finally gone your way, and he probably wouldn’t fuck you to death. Yeah, this would probably hurt, but no more than a usual night with a rutting alpha. You could handle this, maybe even enjoy it, but you wouldn’t tell anyone about that part.

The awkward angle, his mechanical determination, and your body not responding appropriately might frustrate him, which would be bad. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think that you wouldn’t die and that this was nothing compared to what else he could be doing to you, but your body didn’t seem to care.

He paused, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath, and pulled back. This flipped some magical switch in your body to finally start producing slick, and you were able to open your eyes when he started moving toward you again. This time was different.

His jaw was clenched, face screwed up in concentration, everything about him seemed strung so tight that he’d snap at the slightest change, and he was focused on where his cock sank into your body. As tempting as it was to lose yourself in the moment and possibly enjoy this, you weren’t stupid. He could cum, even knot you, but that wouldn’t save you. Right now, the only plan was to keep him distracted because that would keep you alive, and for maybe a few hours, the only possible distraction you had was between your legs.

“Alpha,” you whined, forcing yourself to sound as weak and defenseless as you could with only one word.

The Winter Soldier’s head jerked up, and you would swear on all the money you’d ever seen that he looked concerned, maybe curious. He didn’t speak, but he did stop moving. You pressed your luck, hoping what you’d done to him would cloud his mind enough as you begged, “Please—Fuuuck!”

His face went stoic, and he slammed into you. The angle didn’t seem to matter as you felt his hips pressed hard against your own, the heavy-duty material of his pants digging into your thighs. Your mouth was open wide in a silent scream as he leaned close, his forehead resting against yours, and he repeated himself, “Mine.”

The knife you’d forgotten about was at your throat again, but not like the first time. With the tip of the blade under your chin, you could either follow its lead or let it dig into your jaw. Even though he was too close for your eyes to focus properly, he wanted you to look at him.

He rolled his hips, grinding against you. His girth was enough to cause an unfamiliar but pleasant burn, but that friction made this almost nice for you. It wasn’t bad, but you knew it could get worse once he started moving again.

Feeling what you were hoping was your slick starting to drip down your thigh, you swallowed thickly before you said in an unsteady voice, “Yours.”

You could never be sure, and it didn’t seem possible when you thought back on this moment, but you thought you’d seen him smile. Not a full smile, only one side of his mouth perked up, just the corner. Regardless, it was gone as soon as it had come, if it had even been there at all.

He raised his head, towering over you, and the metal hand pulled back. Another stupid flip of the knife, and it was at your throat again. He was resting the blade against the side of your neck, and you could feel your skin pressing against the sharp edge as your pulse raced. That shouldn’t have you gushing around his length, but here you were: knife at your neck and slick running down your legs. Maybe you needed to see a few people if you survived, this was not normal, but you liked it.

His right hand, the still scary but not as scary one, dropped to your stomach. He was pushing against your lower abdomen as his hips pulled back. He only moved back a few inches before he slammed back into you. You knew that the liquid making the squelching noise as he bottomed out was slick, it had to be because you weren’t in pain, but that could just be the adrenaline coursing through you.

Without grace, he started to fuck you. His movements were stilted, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing or couldn’t relax enough to let his body do what it wanted, or there was some disconnect between his mind and his body. He picked up the pace, grunting as he slammed into you, and a new fear reared in your mind: they might have done something to stop his rut or suppress his presentation altogether.

Trying to think how long the rumors had been going around about the Winter Soldier, you were panicking. Breathing hard as he fucked you, you watched his face as his lips curled and he bared his teeth. It had been at least a few decades, maybe thirty years. That’s why it had been so ridiculous to think he was real; no man could keep that up for so long unless they’d done something to him. Suppressed his rut, basically castrating him, maybe tried like so many others to replicate that fucking shit they’d given Steve Rogers. Even one of those options was horrific, but mixed with what you’d done? You might be fucked in a few new and exciting ways, and none of them resulted in you surviving.

As his grunting turned to a consistent growl and his face contorted in rage, you couldn’t do anything as you watched him come undone; he was unhinged. The blade at your neck hadn’t moved, but the hand pressed against your body was. Pushing hard against you, even if he was feral, you knew he’d still try to get what he needed.

The constant push and pull, the seemingly neverending friction, was affecting you. The pressure under his hand only made it more intense, and you knew that you would cum soon. Your mind was miles away while your body gave in to him.

Then his hands moved too fast again, scaring you as they gripped your hips, then he started pulling you toward him. The strength he seemed to use effortlessly had you scrambling to hold on to something as he thrust into you while wrenching you toward him. Your hands gripped the front of his tactical gear to keep from losing your balance.

The steady hum of the metal plates, the thundering of his hips meeting yours, the sloppy, wet sounds, and his deep growling were all you knew. You didn’t know when you’d started, but you were cumming, and it was nothing compared to what he was still doing to you. Any thinking you had been doing was done. The only thing you knew was this, and it was glorious. Your back arched as he pulled you harder against him, jerking your hips back and forth on his thick cock as he continued to buck into you.

“Mine!” he howled, pushing as much of his cock into you as he came.

You waited for his knot for a few dreadful seconds, but it didn’t come. He was panting, his flesh hand had moved back to your lower stomach, and you realized he was saying something. Simply repeating over and over, barely above a whisper with each exhale, he said the same word, “Mine… mine… mine….”

A shudder ran through him as he pulled out, his still-hard cock quickly tucked into his pants as he took a half step back. Lifting his head, he averted his eyes; you would have slapped him had he not still been holding a knife, or you know, wasn’t the Winter Soldier. Hormones or not, he could still rip you apart.

He had the audacity to look almost sheepish while you leaned against the metal barrier, your pants down, and his cum dripping out of you. Rage was starting to boil inside you when he finally looked up. In a matter of seconds, everything changed.

The knife was back at his side, secured in its sheath, and he was pulling your pants up. Jerking at them roughly, you tried to help, and his hands left you. He took a whole step back this time, shaking his head before looking around. Once his eyes were back on you, taking stock of you, it seemed, he tilted his head back the way he’d come and started walking.

You knew he was supposed to kill you, but you couldn’t resist following him. A few feet behind him and to his right, you were still uneasy around the inhuman arm.

Barely a minute later, he was holding a door open, daylight pouring in as he motioned for you to go through it. It had been so easy, the building was empty, and he seemed to know his way around. But there was no way that he was helping you escape. This had to be a trap.

You’d watched him almost lose his mind, but he pulled it back, and now he was staring at you impatiently. Muttering, “Fuck it,” to yourself as you walked past him and outside to theoretical freedom. Every fiber of your body was on edge as you passed him, waiting for the inevitable, but it didn’t come.

The door slammed close behind him, and he was walking again. He didn’t even look back as you let him go ahead of you. He knew that you’d be behind him. There were more guards who started approaching the Winter Soldier. They shouted in Russian, gesturing with guns in your direction before they dropped to the ground.

You only saw him holstering his gun, and it dawned on you: he was escaping. He wasn’t getting you out; this probably had nothing to do with you, just a happy accident. You still had what you’d come to that isolated building for, but now you had questions. Running, you were at his right side and glanced at him and found out two things: he was scared, and his eyes were a stunning shade of blue.

🖤

Part 2

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

Text

So in love already

Reset - One

Желание

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 5.7k

You wake to the fading image of his beautiful smile and the sound of heavy footsteps, signaling the beginning of your new life of nightmares.

Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, character death, swearing, description of injury, blood

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: I'm so excited for this first chapter!! Please let me know what you think <3 huge thank you to @candlelight-letters and @cwbucky for beta reading this for me!!!

Chapter 2

The first time you saw him, you thought he couldn't be real. You'd heard the stories, the legends, but they were just that. Stories. They had to be. His gaze could burn cities. It could sear through flesh.

But he's real, oh he's real. And as he drags you through what's left of the safehouse, reduced to rubble, you find a sense of peace. It washes over you like a river, cool and soft. You know that today is the day you will die, but you will have died fighting for what you believe in. You gave your last full measure of devotion to SHIELD, to the Avengers, to the people who will not just sit back and let their world turn to ashes.

Your legs give out after a few miles, so he carries you. He is not gentle; he tosses you over his shoulder and doesn't bother to shift you when his bones and gear dig into your abdomen. The world looks so different up here with your new perspective.

You should have known that the plan wouldn't have worked. You should have known they weren't bluffing about their secret weapon. You were naïve. A crime punishable by death.

His boots crunch against the cracked pavement, and for a moment, you close your eyes and imagine that you hear the footsteps of Steve. He was always coming to your rescue, even when you didn't need it. Always gotta be there for my best girl, he'd say. He'd hold you close and protect your back. He was your partner in every sense of the word, but he was so so much more.

Now, he's buried in that pile of rubble.

A small groan escapes your lips. It's the first sound you've made in what feels like years. He doesn't react, walking with what you can only describe as a pep in his step as if you are nothing to him. You must be; he doesn't seem to have human emotion. When he stormed into the safehouse, the mask that covered his face did nothing to protect you from the fire in his eyes. There were fifteen of you in that safe house, fifteen people who fought tooth and nail.

It wasn't enough.

He was faster, stronger. You thought he was going to kill you right there, but instead of bringing the knife down into your chest, he lodged it into your arm and tossed you to the side. You landed hard against the wall and could do nothing as he slaughtered your friends. Your family.

Steve had burst through the door a moment later; someone must have pressed a panic button. Hope bloomed, and for a moment, you thought maybe he could save you. He found you bleeding against the wall, but before he could get to you, he was intercepted. The men fought, nearly equally matched.

It was like watching Zeus and Hades battling. You'd never seen such feats of strength before. Steve tried to appeal to the man inside his opponent, someone long gone. Steve eventually got the upper hand, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't have known that a detonator had been set off and that a moment later, the building would be reduced to a pile of rock.

As the walls collapsed around you, you felt yourself being pulled out. The grip on your arm was painful. Your wound oozed and throbbed.

Your captor wordlessly stared you down as you found your footing. He tied your hands together and pulled on the rope, signaling the beginning of your walk.

Judging by how much the sun has set, you've been walking for a few hours. He doesn't seem to get tired, even with the weight of your body on his shoulder.

You've been silent the entire time. You don't have any fight left in you. It disappeared when you watched Steve's face fall, realizing that he'd lost. America's hero, Captain America, stared death in the face, and that's when you knew there was no winning.

When the sun has fully set, he moves you off his shoulder. The world flips, and blood rushes in your ears, flowing back to your arms and legs. When your vision clears, you see a large black SUV.

Hands push you into the backseat, landing with another pained groan. Your stab wound throbs more, and a fresh wave of blood flows down your bound arms.

Your captor sits in the front passenger seat beside the driver. They exchange a few words in Russian and the engine whirrs to life.

The car is nearly silent, and though you try to force yourself to stay awake, you know you've lost too much blood. Black specks creep into your vision, and you succumb to the warmth of sleep.

Cold. Everything is so cold. Shivers wrack your body, and no matter how tightly you squeeze yourself, you can't get warm.

Another wave of chills washes over you, and your eyes slowly open. You see unrelenting gray stone all around. No door, no window. You have no idea how they got you in here.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a panel in the wall opens, and there he is.

The Winter Soldier.

He stares at you, blue eyes piercing your mind. None of the stories you've heard say anything of mind-reading abilities, but the way his eyes roam over you sends doubt shooting through you.

"Get up," he says. The low timbre of his voice sends fear ripping through your veins. Despite the shooting pains in your body, you push yourself up to stand. The stab wound in your arm has been wrapped in some sort of dressing, but you had bled through it a long time ago. The once white bandages are brown and bloody.

You walk over to where he stands before collapsing. He forcefully grabs your arm and drags you through the damp hallway. You try to memorize the turns.

Left, left, right, left. But then your vision spins, and you lose track. You must make a noise because the Soldier huffs then mumbles something under his breath. He is the only constant; his masked face never fades from view. You want to speak, to say something to him, but the words die on your tongue. The Soldier is in his element. This is his home, there is nothing you can do or say that will stop him now.

Eventually, you reach a large room and come to a halting stop. The Soldier's demeanor changes. He straightens his spine and breathes deeply before stepping inside.

You feel bile rising in your throat when you see Alexander Pierce seated smugly in the center of the room. He is flanked by Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins.

SHIELD worked for years to keep him out of power once it was discovered that he was with Hydra. You thought he was dead until a few years ago when he relaunched his attacks. With his knowledge of the inner workings of SHIELD and his secret weapons, it was almost too easy.

Your heart pounds in your ears as the Soldier drags you to where Pierce sits.

He pushes you down onto the ground, landing with a thud. Pierce laughs, the sound echoing in the nearly empty room.

"Mission report," Pierce says, a hint of his amusement still present in his voice.

"Raid on SHIED safe house successful. Confirmed deaths of high ranking members of the SHIELD resistance movement." Pierce nods, and it takes everything in you not to vomit.

"And the Captain?" He presses, rubbing his jaw. Pierce's eyes rake over you, and you can practically feel him poking and prodding you. Though you're fully clothed, you feel naked in his presence.

"Confirmed death." The Soldier pulls something from his pocket and tosses it to Rumlow. The star patch from the center of Steve's uniform, torn and ragged at the edges.

Rumlow looses a laugh and hands it to Rollins.

"Good work, Soldier." You see the way the Soldier puffs up his chest at Pierce's words; he thrives off the praise.

"Who's the bitch?" Rollins asks, leering down at you. A new wave of nausea rolls through you.

"A prisoner, as requested." You feel the Soldier's eyes drop down to you. You know you look pathetic.

"The Captain's plaything," Pierce remarks. Plaything. The word is so dismissive of everything you and Steve have. Had . Since the first day you joined SHIELD all those years ago, he had been so sweet.

He trained you and ensured you were the strongest person in every room you walked into. Other than him, obviously. On harder days, he would hold you close and tell you how much he loved you. "I've never seen anyone so beautiful, sweetie. You mean the world to me."

Even when Hydra ambushed the government, and you were all sent to different parts of the country, Steve still made sure you knew how much he loved you.

Even when each Avenger fell at the hands of Hydra, he still made sure you were safe.

"What're we supposed to do with her?" Rollins asks, dragging you back to the present. The memories of Steve and a time before the pain were a welcome reprieve from your current reality.

"She knows the inner workings of the resistance. She will be instrumental. How was she on the journey here?" Pierce directs the question to the Soldier.

"Compliant," the Soldier replies coldly. Rumlow steps forward and crouches down in front of you. He brushes a strand of hair from your face in an almost caring way, but the look in his eyes is anything but.

"It's a shame she didn't put up more of a fight. I love to break them." Rollins chuckles and joins Rumlow in the crouched position. You try to avoid their eyes, but Rumlow grips your chin.

"You really want Steve Rogers' sloppy seconds?" Rollins jeers. A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and it seems to just spur him on. He reaches out a hand and swipes the tear from your cheek. Rollins brings his thumb to his lips and tastes your tears.

He groans and rolls his eyes. "So fucking sweet. I get it now." You wish you had the fire of fight in your gut; you wish you could feel the anguish of rage in your chest. But you don't. You just feel empty. Maybe that's what happens when you're truly open, when you've lost everything and have nothing left to live for.

"Bring her back to her cell. We'll begin her training tomorrow." The Soldier nods and pulls you away from Rumlow and Rollins. He gives you only a second to stand before he's dragging you back to your cell.

He throws you into the stone room, and you groan at the impact.

"Please," you whisper. Your voice is hoarse and rough from not being used. "Please. "

"I don't know what you're begging for," he says, towering over you. His hair falls in his face, and you think that in another life, he could have been beautiful. Maybe he could have even been kind.

"You don't have to–" He steps into the cell, and your words die on your lips.

"Begging is pointless. I will do to you what I want. Rumlow and Rollins will do to you what they want." You feel wetness on your face. You're crying. The Soldier steps away, and the panel shuts you inside the cell.

Only when you hear his heavy footsteps fade do you allow the sobs to overtake you. They wrack your body and tear you apart.

Eventually, when you've run out of tears, when you've exhausted everything you have, you fall asleep.

You dream of your first date with Steve; he'd taken you dancing. He'd held you close during the slow songs and swung you around during the fast ones. Laughter spilled from both of you and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

He'd pulled you out into the street after and kissed you like you were the only woman in the world. He told you that you completed him, you made his world go round. He told you that he would be with you always; you'd never be able to get rid of him.

You wake to the fading image of his beautiful smile and the sound of heavy footsteps, signaling the beginning of your new life of nightmares.

The next week is the most painful week of your life. Every day, the Soldier drags you from your room. You are given a tasteless bowl of food twice a day. Once before your training, and once after.

The training is nothing like what you'd done at SHIELD. The Soldier straps you into a large chair and places a rubber bite piece in your mouth. Each time he does it, you stare into his eyes and search for something, anything, but you never find it. Once he is sure you are secure in the chair, he steps back beside Rumlow, who oversees your 'training'.

Rumlow presses a few keys on a computer, and the torture begins. You're shocked at increasing levels, each more excruciating than the last. You only get a few seconds between the shocks before the next begins, but every second you're able to, you watch the grin on Rumlow's face grow. You swear the lust in his eyes increases each time you get shocked.

The number of shocks is never the same; you can't discern a pattern. You do know, though, that when Rumlow decides to stop the torment, your vision floats with black spots. Your head swims with confusion, and you don't have the strength to walk.

From what SHIELD knew about Hydra, you understand that this is how they created the Winter Soldier. They electrocuted him until all the human inside was gone. You're not sure why they would want to do that to you, but most days, you're too exhausted to think about it more.

What you do know, though, is that they are trying to break you.

A few moments later, the Soldier comes to collect you. He cuffs you and drags you through the hallways. It takes you all night to recover, and when you wake in the morning, your body aches, but your thoughts are mostly clear.

It's agonizing and never-ending. Every day for an entire week, you endure it. By the eighth day, you're a shell of the woman you used to be.

After finishing your food, you brace yourself for the sound of the Soldier's footsteps, but they never come. Instead, a different person comes up to your cell. The panel slides open and Rumlow sneers when he sees you.

"You look fucking disgusting. Get up." You shudder as you push yourself up off the floor. After he cuffs you, you follow Rumlow down the hallway, curling in on yourself every time someone passes. No one looks your way.

You take new turns down new hallways until you reach some form of a locker room. You fill with dread when you see the block of showers.

You look at Rumlow as tears brim in your eyes, but he just laughs. "Strip and shower. There's soap and shit on the shelf. Make it fast; we have places to be." You shake your head. You don't want him to be there. Your tears fall and wet your cheeks. They've already broken you down so much. Why bother humiliating you more? How does he expect you to undress when your hands are cuffed together?

When you don't start taking your clothes off, Rumlow takes matters into his own hands. His rough, calloused fingers tear at your tactical gear, tugging it from your shoulders. You cry out and try to step away, but his grip on you is tight.

"Rumlow," the Soldier's voice booms from the door. You spin around and find him stalking toward you. Rumlow groans and rubs his hand over his jaw in annoyance.

"They let you out of your cage?" He crows, continuing to tug at your clothes. The Soldier steps forward and grabs your arm, pulling you from Rumlow's grip.

"You weren't supposed to bring her. She's mine." You shiver at his possessiveness. Rumlow's eyes darken, but he doesn't fight with the Soldier.

"Be quick. Pierce wants her clean and dressed before seeing her." Rumlow leaves the bathroom, heavy boots thundering on the way out.

The Soldier turns and lets his eyes roam your body. Your shoulders are exposed, but nothing else has been revealed. His gaze is cold and calculating, not lustful like Rumlows had been.

"You need to bathe," he says plainly.

"I can't take off my clothes if my hands are restrained," you reply quietly. Over the past week, you've tried to appeal to the Soldier's humanity. You quickly found that he has none.

"I can't do that." His voice is stern. He isn't taking any risks with you.

"Then how am I supposed to take off my clothes?" You hate the way your voice wavers. The Soldier removes a blade from his belt and flips it through his metal fingers in response to your words.

You flinch away from him as he brings the blade toward you.

"Stop." His fingers grip you, and he cuts away your gear. You shut your eyes and hold back your tears at the sound of your clothes ripping from your body. A few times, his blade grazes your skin, but he never cuts you. The cold metal sends shivers through your body as you try to stay as still as possible to avoid being nicked. Before long, you're naked. The air is cold, and goosebumps erupt on your skin.

Without letting his eyes drop, the Soldier guides you to the shower. He turns on the water but doesn't give it time to warm before moving you under the stream.

The water is cold, and it stings your skin. The Soldier steps back and turns so you can have the illusion of privacy. Since your hands are cuffed in front of you, you can reach onto the shelf for the shampoo and soap.

It feels good to lather the product into your hair; it's been caked with dirt and blood since the day you'd been captured.

You find it more challenging to wash your body. The strain of contorting your body makes your stab wound ache. It takes you longer to scrape all the dirt and dried blood from your skin, but once you're done, you feel just slightly more human.

Once you can't prolong it any longer, you turn back toward the Soldier.

"I'm done," you say, shuddering. The Soldier doesn't respond; instead, he steps away and returns with a stack of clothes and a towel. He hands them to you, keeping his eyes on yours. "Thank you." The Soldier shakes his head and turns away.

After you dry off as much as you can, you slide on the underwear and pants he'd given you. They're too big, but you have to make due. You're not sure how you'll get the shirt on, though.

You shuffle toward the Soldier apprehensively, but it's your only choice. He turns when he notices your presence and furrows his brow. It's as if the scowl is permanently etched into his face. You feel the urge to press the lines with your thumb to soothe them. When the Soldier takes the shirt and bra from your fingers, you snap out of the trance.

He unlocks one of your hands, and you feel your fingers tingle as blood flows back to them. The Soldier wordlessly helps you into the undergarment and then the shirt. His actions are slow and careful; he makes sure not to touch you in the process.

"Pierce is expecting us," he says as he cuffs you again. They're tighter this time, but you don't say anything. You know he won't loosen them.

The Soldier walks you through the hallways, your bare feet slapping quietly on the linoleum floor. Eventually, you reach an elevator that takes you and the Soldier down to the facility's lowest level.

Alexander Pierce, Jack Rollins, and Brock Rumlow all turn to look at you when the steel doors slide open. Your steps falter, and the Soldier keeps pushing you forward.

"Put her in the chair so we can get started," Pierce says, regarding you with prying eyes.

The Soldier pushes you down into a metal chair and moves your restraints from handcuffs to the wrist cuffs on the arms of the chair. These cuffs are leather, but they are somehow tighter than the handcuffs.

Rollins stalks over to you and runs his hand along your jaw back into your damp hair.

"You gonna be a good girl for us?" He asks, squeezing your face with his calloused fingers. You whimper, and Rollins squeezes tighter.

"All right, all right, that's enough, Rollins. Let's get started." Rollins tucks your hair behind your ears before stepping to your side.

"So," Pierce begins. "You were part of the resistance. We understand that you were an integral member of SHIELD's forces, working quite closely with Captain Steve Rogers." You wait for him to ask a question, but it doesn't come. He's just spewing facts about you to you. You've been trained to withstand interrogation and torture techniques, but Pierce's tactic doesn't make sense.

You respond with silence and try to stare down Pierce.

"Do you know of other safehouses?"

You don't move. You don't even breathe. Pierce nods to Rollins, and before you can react, he brings his fist down on your face. Blood fills your mouth, and your lip stings. He hasn't broken anything, but you doubt he'll hold back.

"We know of the existence of ten SHIELD safe houses. Where are they?"

You spit the blood from your mouth. It lands with a splat on the floor.

Rollins replies by punching you again. This time, he clips your cheekbone, and the pain radiates through your skull.

The Soldier grumbles something to Pierce, but the older man brushes him off. You wonder if he's defending you.

"I thought you were gonna be a good girl for us," Rollins coos mockingly.

"I don't know," you croak. Pierce shakes his head, clearly unhappy with your response.

"Lying only will make this worse for you," he says, standing and walking over to you. He crouches down, so he's at eye level with you, and you try not to shrink away from him.

"I swear I don't know," you whimper pathetically. From the corner of your vision, you see Rollins roll out his neck.

"I know you think you're protecting your friends, but I promise you're not." Your hands have gone numb, and your legs tingle. You can't give up anything, no matter how uncomfortable you are.

"I don't think she's gonna talk, Pierce," Rumlow voices from a few feet away. You glance over at him and try not to cower away from his gaze.

When Hydra first took over, you saw the violence caused at the hands of Brock Rumlow. He performed nearly every public torturing session and even a few executions. You don't even want to imagine what he has in mind for you.

Rumlow and Rollins switch places, and your blood runs cold.

"Is Nick Fury alive?" Pierce asks, changing his line of questioning. You haven't seen Fury in a year; you've only heard whisperings of his existence.

"I don't know," you say, trying to feign confidence. Fury trained you better than this; Steve trained you better than this. When did you become so weak? Steve would be disappointed. You steal your face and school your emotions. You need to be better than this.

"She doesn't know," Pierce echoes. He nods to Rumlow, who raises his fist and brings it down on your stomach. You groan loudly and slump over as much as your restraints allow.

"When was the last time you heard from Nick Fury?" You shake your head and take deep breaths, but Rumlow doesn't give you a chance to recover before he grips your hair and yanks your head back.

"Answer the question."

"I don't know." Another blow to the stomach.

"You need to focus," Steve said, running his fingers through his hair. He shuffled around the ring, always so light on his feet despite his stature.

"I am focused, Steven; we just have different goals." You wiggled your eyebrows and watched that mountain of a man blush like a teenage boy. You took the opportunity to sweep his legs out from underneath him. With just a few moves, you had him pinned to the mat. Steve was much stronger than you, he could've gotten out from beneath you if he wanted to, but he didn't.

"Was this your goal, sweet girl?" He asked, panting. He couldn't help but let his eyes settle on your lips, but you didn't mind. Not one bit.

"Maybe," you teased. "And what're you gonna do about it?"

"Fucking bitch." Your jaw rattles with another punch.

It goes on for hours. Pierce asks a question, you don't have an answer, Rumlow or Rollins beats you. After a while, you become numb to their blows. All you can focus on is the calm gaze of the Soldier. His blue eyes stare into you, examining and picking you apart.

When the interrogation finally ends, Pierce dismisses Rumlow and Rollins. He turns back to you and forces you to lift your head to face him.

"You are strong but not strong enough to live through this. I want you safe and healthy. I'm not going to kill you. Next time, answer my questions. You will be pleased with the results." His voice makes nausea roll through you. His breath is hot on your face.

"I don't know anything," you whimper, blood dripping from your split lip.

"I will find out what you know whether you're conscious for it or not. I'm not a monster, but I'm not a good man. You won't like my methods." With those parting words, Pierce looks at the Soldier and nods. The Soldier hauls you out of the chair and doesn't even bother to cuff your hands. You're too weak to fight. The world spins around you as he drags you back to your cell.

He sets you down on the small cot you'd been given a few days ago and pushes your hair from your eyes.

The Soldier pulls a cloth from a pocket in his gear and wets it in the pitcher of water in the corner of your cell.

He wipes the blood from your face but never meets your eyes. He makes sure your wounds are as clean as they can be before laying you down and checking your stomach.

The way he touches you and treats you is cold and medical, but you try to twist it in your head to be kindness.

This could be kindness; his fingers could be gentle as they brush your skin. His eyes could be soft when he sees your wounds. He could hold you in his arms, warming you during the long cold nights.

He's so close to you now that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off his body. You glance into his eyes, and for the first time since the interrogation room, he stares back. Maybe there's something left in there, something human.

Conflict swims in his eyes, and you can see his jaw tensing.

"Thank you," you whisper. The Soldier's gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. He stands with a start and pushes away, exiting the cell and shutting the panel behind him.

Somehow, the man who has brought you to Hell is the one saving you from the flames.

The Soldier drags you to a new wing of the compound; it smells like sweat and the tang of blood. You enter a room that looks eerily similar to the training area in the Avengers compound. For a moment, you can hear their voices, cheering each other on as they spar. You can practically see Steve leaning against the wall, waiting for you to join him.

The vision is ripped away when the Soldier pushes you to the center of the ring. He unlocks your cuffs and steps back as you rub your wrists. You glance around, the only exit is blocked by the Soldier, and you doubt you'll be able to get past him. He must suspect your thoughts because he quickly types in a combination of numbers on a keypad, and the large door slides shut, locking automatically.

"You trained with SHIELD," he says, voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes," you reply quietly. You're not very stable on your feet, you haven't gotten good rest in days,

"You trained with Captain America." The Soldier spits out Steve's title as if it were poison on his tongue. Your eyes flit back to the spot where you'd imagined Steve to be, and your heart thuds in your chest.

"Yes." The Soldier grunts out something you don't understand, but you don't care. Your eyes are still fixed on the wall. You imagine Steve wearing his favorite white tee, a pair of sweatpants, and his baseball cap. The brim of his hat covers his eyes just enough to where he can get away with watching you in ways that were, in his words, "untoward."

Natasha brushed off her hands after taking down a young male agent. She helped him up and shoots you a wink, knowing you loved watching her spar. Steve stood beside you, his thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. He always needed to be touching you somehow, holding your hand, touching your leg; he needed the connection. "70 years on ice will do that to a guy," he liked to joke.

"We're up," you said, tugging him into the sparring ring. Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest while you attempted to wiggle your way out.

"What if we just went for a walk instead," Steve whispered against the top of your head. You laughed and slipped out of his grip.

"You're just saying that because you don't want me to beat your ass, Cap," you teased. Steve raised an eyebrow at your word choice, and before he could chastise you for it, you added, "I know, I know, language." That earned you a smile.

Steve realized you weren’t going to give up, so he joined you in the ring, and you began to dance around each other. For being so big, Steve was pretty graceful. He was good on his feet and was always so aware of what he was doing. Most people sparring with him never saw his blows coming, but you noticed his tell.

He smiled, big and bright. Every single time.

You don't see it coming. The Soldier's foot slams into your stomach, and you fall back. Hard. The wind is knocked out of you, and your head slams against the ground. It's padded slightly, but it still hurts. Your healing stab wound throbs, but you ignore it. You need to get up before he kicks you again.

The Soldier steps back and gives you a moment to stand. You feel his eyes on you the entire time. You wish you were dressed better; all you're wearing is the oversized shirt he'd given you after your last shower, a loose pair of tactical pants, and your worn combat boots.

"You're distracted," the Soldier says, taking off his mask and vest. "Didn't they teach you better, куколка (little doll)?" You don't know what the word means, but his eyes widen when he says it, it must've been an accident.

You don't reply. Instead, you take a few deep breaths. It's clear that you won't get to leave here until you fight the Soldier. You notice that he doesn't have any of his usual weapons strapped to him, so he must be planning on hand-to-hand only.

The Soldier begins to circle you, starting the familiar dance of sparring. He's about the same size as Steve is – was – so you know generally where all the best spots to go for are. You try to tell yourself this is the same as sparring with Steve, only now your opponent has a metal arm, and you don't know his tells.

He strikes first, and you attempt to block the blow with little success.

It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. He strikes, you try to block. Anytime you try to attack, he beats you to it, but you refuse to give up. As long as you're on your feet, he hasn't won. You're bleeding and bruised, but that faint image of Steve keeps you fighting.

The Soldier steps back and grabs a knife from his pile of gear. The blade flashes in the harsh light, and you flinch at the sight of it. He smiles, and the darkness of his expression shakes you. You watch as he tosses the knife on the ground, sending it skidding toward you. It comes to a stop at the toe of your boot.

Tentatively, you reach down and pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hand. You feel the Soldier's eyes searing into you, and when you meet his eye, you see the hunger. His tongue swipes along his lower lip, and you swallow dryly in response.

You move first, stepping toward him. He doesn't get a weapon for himself, so you have a slight advantage now. To get him with the knife, though, you have to be close. He'll have a better chance of hitting you.

It takes a lot of maneuvering, you take a lot of hits from him, but eventually, you feel the knife graze along the Soldier's flesh arm. The gash isn't deep, it's superficial, but it's something.

The Soldier flashes you a terrifying smile; it makes you freeze in your tracks. He uses the opening to bring you to the ground, straddling your waist and pressing you into the floor. The air rushes from your lungs, and for a moment, the Soldier is the only thing to exist in your world.

His cold blue eyes stare into you, and it's as if he can read your mind. He wets his lip again, and you track the movement. The hunger in his gaze grows as his metal fingers swipe at the blood around his wound.

With him so close, you can breathe him in. Despite living in the damp compound, the Soldier smells like pine trees, like a forest in spring.

"You're strong, куколка," he says, voice low. "But you need to be stronger if you're going to survive this."

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

please let me know if you'd like to be added to my taglist must be 18+ General tags - please lmk if you do not want to be tagged for this series

@/peaches1958 @prettylittlepluviophile @writerwrites @w0nderw0mansw0rld @hawsx3 @meetmeatyourworst @harrysthiccthighss

Series tags - 18+ only!! must have age in bio - message me to be added <3

@/cwbucky @emmabarnes @w0nderw0man-reading @summerofsnowflakes @winter-soldier-101 @littlered6307 @peaches1958 @callingsergeantbarnes @fandoms-writings @prettywhenicry4 @zombiexbody @trinitytheinfinityromanoff @cjand10 @buckybarnesandmarvel @red42985 @thats-a-gaybie

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Oooh loving this angsty piece.

Loving him was never enough — B. Barnes.

summary: you allow yourself to feel the loss and the hurt of his betrayal— but after this, you promise yourself; no more. this time, you leave bucky barnes. this time, you put yourself first.

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: cheating, ANGST, more angst, allusions to pregnancy, cursing.

part 2 to this

the party was in full swing downstairs; another celebration for a reason you no longer bothered to remember. from the third year of your marriage, banquets and gatherings were a part of your week, either with your husband's business associates or simply just friends getting together for the sake of appearances, it was a chore itself to try and keep up with the latest reason for a celebration of such caliber.

yet you have always played your part well; smiling, cheering, and raising toast when needed be. you've also perfected the charade of a loving husband and wife, sharing ocassional whispers and laughter, perhaps even a lingering kiss; and sometimes, they were welcomed. sometimes, you do feel the tenderness as he gazes at you. you feel the butterflies whenever he would whisper something cheesy on your ears. even the touch of his lips upon yours were enough to renew hope, until, come another day.

but recently, you've only ever been feeling the heavy weight of dread on the pit of your stomach. something ominous, something akin to resentment ; an emotion you've never entertained, despite his numerous indescretions. his blatant disregard for the sanctity of your marriage has finally caught up with you.

bucky finally exhausted your love.

because as you stared at him, in his act of something so sinful, molding his body with another woman, fucking into her with wild abandon; it was like a bucket of cold water has drenched you.

you were suddenly all too aware of your surroundings, and your grip on the knob loosened, only enough to close the door back again.

the frames rattled, the occupants of the bed stilled, and only the patter of drifting footsteps filled the silence.

the same time bucky's blood ran cold in his veins.

you slept in what felt like, the best ten fucking hours of rest; awaking with the bright sun peaking from the spaces of the curtain, even the birds chirping happily, and for the first time in a really long time, you woke up with a contented sigh.

you were back in your old home, it's much smaller in size, and comparatively less luxurious than the estate you lived in, but it was home. and it was yours. something that could never be tethered to the man you called your husband.

automatically, you checked your phone for emails; several missed calls and text messages from bucky himself were what welcomed you, yet you opted to ignore them, instead checking in with your close friend and one of new york's finest; andy barber.

barber: will you be free to come to the office at around ten? i can discuss your options, and we'll have to go through the paperwork to sort out whatever you need to do.

barber: also, while we're at it; i'm proud of you.

for what felt like hours, but couldn't have been more than ten minutes, you thought back to your back and forth correspondence the night prior— thinking, had you really made the decision to leave him? was it real this time?

could you live without him?

you'd pondered about the prospect most of your marriage, ultimately coming to a conclusion that it was difficult to eject james out of your system. he was your entire world and existing without him was a thought that couldn't even exist in your orbit. and ultimately; can you really live the rest of your life, chained to a man so warped up in his own selfishness without making the effort to actually consider what you may be feeling?

can you continously gaslight yourself into thinking that he loved you; in his own, twisted way. that he was only so weak of a man to deny the temptations and wants of his flesh— were you not so tired, and broken down by his false promises, that you ache, deep in your soul.

when will you realize that the only person who deserves unlimited forgiveness was yourself, and not the man who promised you forever; but stomped and ran over the tattered pieces of your heart.

your hand touched upon your stomach, a protective instinct blaring noisily in your head; you have not only yourself to think about now.

years of trying had not once bore to fruiton until now— you wipe the hot tears streaming down your face, a sob echoing in the stilness of the room. why was your love so cruel to you? why was it that you had let things go this far with a person such as james?

you cry out. torn and heart wrenching cries as you let yourself feel the years of betrayal, and heartache, promising yourself that this will be the last.

soon.. you hope; soon, you will no longer cry for him.

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kamaria-sweet-writes · 1 year

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Omfg I don’t even know where to start with what I love about this because I love it all. Thank you for writing for us.

Good Girls Grown Up

Word Count: 4.3k

Note: This takes place approximately three years before the current timeline of Ex Wive's Club

Warnings: anxiety, feelings of not being a good enough pairing, slight angst, insecurities, soft! Lee (because that is a warning), bullying, mentions of an unwanted child, angst in children, gaslighting.

“Mayor Bodecker, what do you think you are doing?” she whispered softly as her husband’s nimble fingers worked their way sinfully inside of her sleep shorts. Lee hummed thoughtfully, pressing his erection against his wife’s backside. His fingers dipped inside of her, and she moaned. Her eyes flickered closed and her core clenched around the familiar digits, “Lee…oh, fuck…”

“Such improper language for the first lady of our little town.”

She giggled as he nipped along her neck. Instinctively she bucked her hips against her husband’s hand, his calloused palm dragging deliciously against her clit. Lee’s own hips pressed forward once more as he was filled with need for her, “Lee…oh, Lee…who cares about language…”

“You’re right,” he agreed thoughtfully. She whimpered when his fingers pulled out of her, and his hands worked needily on her sleep shorts. She was quick to stop him, and he frowned. She turned her head ever so slightly so that she saw him in her peripherals. He wore a nervous look, “what’s wrong, Em?”

“Lee…the kids…” she sighed, “it’s Easter…they’re bound to barge in…and the triplets…”

Lee looked over to the extra-large bassinet, where his three youngest babies were sleeping soundly. He sighed to himself, “you know that ‘he’ misses being inside of you, sweet pea…”

“Lee, we have nine little babies now…not six…and four of them have the ability to barge in without their siblings carrying them.”

“Just one taste,” Lee all but begged, his nose gently touching that of his wife’s. She turned around in his arms, giggling at him. He frowned a little bit more and she wrapped her arms around his neck, “c’mon sweet pea…we’ve done this since we moved here…I taste you before we start our festivities…it sets my whole day right!”

“Your insatiable nature is the reason we have nine children, mayor!” she teased.

“Oh, it’s not for lack of trying, sweet pea,” Lee smiled, wrapping his arms around his wife, “if you’d let me as much as I wanted to, we’d easily have double the number.”

“Lee Bodecker!” she squealed.

Lee smiled, “c’mon sugar…there was a time when you were the same…I remember quite frequently when we were freshly married, you were askin’ for my Bodecker baby juice all the time…”

A new blush rose to her cheeks and Lee shot her a flirtatious wink, “oh I still do want it…but I think we need to seriously consider you getting snipped first…”

She watched the color drain from his face, “snipped?”

“Lee, we have nine babies…”

“What happened to double digits, Mrs. Bodecker?”

“Nine children happened!” she sighed, admitting it aloud, “I don’t know how you’re in your 40’s and manage to keep up with them. I’m only in my 20’s and they leave me exhausted every night…”

“You want me to hire a nanny to help you out?” Lee asked, a concerned tone taking hold of his voice, “sweet pea…I cou-“

“I’m not saying that, Lee,” she said quickly, cutting him off, “I just-“

“Sweet pea…I don’t want you feeling like you are run ragged by the babies…we got more than enough money to be hiring help!” Lee offered. He watched how silent he was for a moment, and in that instant he knew that there was a bit more to how she was feeling.

He started piecing together all the little hints.

They hadn’t been having as much sex.

She was less flirty, and always talking about being exhausted.

Sometimes he’d get home late and she’d already be passed out in bed, the children tucked away.

Lee waited patiently, “baby…talk to me…just say the word and we’ll do it.”

Em bit her lip, “you wouldn’t be mad?”

Lee felt his heart ache. He held his wife a little bit closer and reached up to tip her chin up so that she was looking directly at him, “why would I be mad, sweet pea? We have nine amazing babies together…you gave me that amazing gift! Hell, you agreed to marry me and let me make nine sweet, beautiful babies with you. Let me do this for you, baby…”

“I think I need help, Lee…” she admitted with a nod. Lee nodded in response and wrapped his arms around her.

“We’ll hire some help, baby….and I-I’ll look into a vasectomy.”

“I-I don’t want to go to school today…”

Jake frowned, looking down at Evie as he served up the pancakes and French toast he’d made for the kids. His youngest two seemed oblivious to the tension in the room as they munched on their breakfast, but Jake and his eldest son were tuned into Evie’s distress, “why not, Eve?”

“I just don’t want to go!” she muttered, poking at her food, “can I stay home today? I-I think I need to stay home. My tummy hurts!”

“Look, kiddo…we talk about our feelings in this household…you know that! If you’re feeling sick, we’ll make a doctor’s appointment and get it figured out, but that’s not what it sounds like. So do you want to talk about it? If not, we’re going to school today!” Jake said firmly as he placed the pan back on the stove. When she didn’t respond he put the spatula down and turned around, speaking into the Bluetooth in his ear, where his team was going over the groundwork for a mission, “Clay…pooch, I’m going to have to call you guys back…”

He tapped the side of his Bluetooth without waiting for a response, and then looked to his adopted daughter, “you going to tell me what’s going on, Evie, or do I have to play twenty questions?”

Her jaw tensed momentarily, and her eyes glistened. She looked to Tyler and he went to speak but she ran away from the table. Jake looked between his sons and daughter. Layla and Jacob shrugged, the three and four year old not entirely sure what was going on, while the second grader Tyler bit his lip and looked away from his father. Jake watched his son’s actions, and he sighed when the little boy refused to make eye contact with him.

“Tyler…”

“Evie asked Michael to play with her at recess yesterday…and they kissed underneath the slide…”

He fought off the instinctive protective urge that made him want to smack the young Barber boy silly in lieu of hearing the rest of what his son had to say. He waited, but Tyler remained silent. Jake’s brow furrowed, “and…”

“Some of the other kids said that Michael only kissed her because he felt bad for her,” he admitted, still biting his lip as he told his father the story, “Evie got sad when they asked why he’d feel bad for her…”

“What did they say, Tyler?”

“That Michael only did it because he feels bad that Evie’s real mom didn’t want her…” he said quickly, “that you and mom only took her in because her mom was going to throw her away! They started calling her a garbage baby.”

Jake looked down the hall, heartbroken over what his son had just told him. They’d had a long journey fighting for Evie, and she was wanted amongst the Jenson clan more than anything, “you know that’s not true, right Tyler?”

“Of course I know that!” he said as though it were the most obvious piece of information he ever heard, “I told Evie that we love her and that she should tell you and mom, but she said no…she tried to talk to Michael and he wouldn’t even look at her.”

Jake’s jaw tensed, “that little shit…”

“Dad…am I in trouble?”

“No bud,” Jake said with a shake of his head. He reached over and messed with his son’s hair, “you aren’t in trouble.”

“I pushed Michael when he ran away from Evie…”

“I’ll be right back,” Jake said quickly, disregarding the claim that his son made, “you did good in protecting your sister…do me a favor and make sure Layla and Jacob eat breakfast!”

“Okay daddy…”

Jake rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall to where Evie’s room was. His heart ached as he heard the little girl crying from the other side of the door. But before he could so much as speak when he burst through the door, he saw that his wife already was there sitting on the bed, with Evie sitting on her lap and sobbing against her chest.

“It’s okay, Evie,” Maddie sighed, gently smoothing down her half-sister’s hair, “don’t listen to those mean kids at school…”

“They said my real mommy didn’t want me! They called me a garbage baby,” she sobbed, “and Michael went along with it. Michael is my boyfriend! And he didn’t stand up for me.”

“Well I’m going to talk to Sasha and Andy after I drop you off at school-“

“Mommy no!”

“Baby…that’s not right,” she sighed, looking into her half-sisters chocolate orbs, “no one should say that. And if Michael really was your boyfriend he would have stood up for you. You said Tyler stood up for you, right?”

“Uh-huh…”

“People that love you will always stick up for you, baby!”

“But my real mommy didn’t want me!” she argued, “no one wants me…you and daddy just feel bad for me!”

“Don’t you ever say that again!” Maddie said firmly, holding the little girl at arm’s length. Maddie’s tears reflected Evie’s and both of them refused to move a muscle, “I don’t want you to ever say that again…”

“But it’s true!”

“I want you!” Maddie said quickly, a tear streaming down her cheek, “I want you so desperately to be part of the family Evie…our mother was a mean woman…but I wanted you so badly. I fought for you!”

“We fought for you!” Jake agreed from the door.

Both Evie and Maddie looked teary eyed at Jake. Jake felt like his throat was closing up, seeing two of his girls in so much pain, but he pushed himself further into the room. He dropped to his knees, “Evie…Maddie and I want you…Maddie and I adopted you when we got you here…remember?”

The little girl nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

But the trio was shocked when they heard another voice from the door.

“We want you too, Evie!” Tyler proclaimed, “You’re my big sister…you’re all of our big sister…”

“Sissy!” the three-year-old Jacob chirped. Layla nodded in agreement, rocking back and forth on her feet.

“We love you, sissy!”

Evie sniffled and Jake led the charge, wrapping his arms around both Maddie and her. The Jensen babies were quick to join in and they all began to reaffirm the love that they held for Evie. Maddie sniffled and Jake’s eyes caught hers.

‘I love you!’ she mouthed.

And Jake tearily smiled, wondering how his life managed to go so right.

“Hey…”

Cami looked up from her desk, surprised to see Sam standing there with kindergarteners Jamie and Stephanie, and his own four-year-old daughter, Kaya. She bit her lip, unable to hold back the smile from her lips, “well hey there guys…what are you doing here?”

“A few of the guys were working on some new prototypes for the wings on my suit…”he said with a shrug, “picked the girls up, and was going to take them down to the tech lab since the daycare closed down for the day…”

“Again?”

“Your newborn brother can be thanked for that…” he said while holding back a chuckle. Cami frowned, nervous to ask. Sam bit his lip, “apparently one of the women was playing with him, and he wouldn’t let go of her finger…”

“Oh no…”

“He snapped it!”

Cami gasped, “No.”

“Was pretty funny watching Buck come and get him…” Sam admitted, “but it’s better than Mel coming down. You know she would have made those poor girls feel bad for it. Your dad just looks sad when he tries to fight over it.”

“Oh god…is he arguing with them again?”

“Baby, it’s the second time James injured one of the workers…”

“He’s a serum baby…they know that they’re supposed to not stick their hands in his face,” she sighed, “he’s got super strength. I mean, Jamie and Stephanie are a lot more mild-mannered than him, and me and Steve were there a lot more…I mean, he cut down on the missions he took, and I didn’t work for a while when I had them…mom is a counselor with those groups and dad’s never slowed down. James is bored! Of course he’ll break bones and test waters if someone allows him to.”

“Doesn’t do that to your mom!”

“Mom does have a way with Barnes boys…” she laughed to herself, “she puts them in their place, and quick!”

“Mommy come with us!” Jamie begged, interrupting the adult conversation.

Stephanie and Kaya agreed, “Come down to play with us!”

“Mommy’s busy babies…I have a lot of work I need to do!”

“Please!” Kaya asked, running up to Cami’s desk, “we wanna show you a card we made…we made cards!”

“A card?”

Sam nodded, pulling the attention away from the girls, “they made you and Nia a card because mother’s day was coming up next month…”

“You girls made us cards?”

The girls giggled, excitedly nodding along. A chorus of squeals met her ears, “and I have to come down with you guys?”

“Uh huh!”

“YEAH!”

“Come with us, mommy!”

“See my mommy?”

“Yes, Kaya, we can stop at the medical ward and see your mommy too!” she agreed, lifting the young Wilson girl up, “after we drop daddy off to go play with his wings, we can see mommy Nia!”

“Daddy us uppies too?”

Sam smiled, lifting Jamie up first, only to pass her off to Cami, who balanced her on the other hip, and then he turned to Stephanie who was giddly awaiting to be picked up by him.

“Uppies!” Stephanie giggled.

“Yeah, yeah!” Sam smiled, lifting her up, “now you three are stuck with us!”

“YAY!” Kaya giggled.

“Mission Accomplish!”

“To tech!” Jamie demanded.

“Yep,” Sam nodded, already starting out the door, “Mission accomplished girls. We got mommy out of the office! Now lets go play with Uncle Tony’s tech and then we’ll see your mommy Kaya!”

The girls were a mess of giggles, chattering excitedly the whole way down to the tech wing, but as soon as Sam let them go to try on the wings, the girls all lost interest.

It didn’t matter that he was the new Captain America, or that the wings were easily way bigger than them. The girls were far more excited by the prospect of showing off their cards.

They had jointly handed off their card for Cami, but the twins insisted that they take the card up to Kaya’s mom. Sam was okay with the idea, seeing the girls were already starting to get a little bored being forced to be in the space that wasn’t friendly to a child.

So they quickly made their way up to the medical wing. Doctor Cho had told Cami that Nia was off in the office, catching up on paperwork.

And surprised she was, when Cami opened the door to the office, and three little girls were bunched up beside her, rushing on in.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind,” she said quickly as the girls ran to the front of the desk, “Doctor Cho said it was okay and we wanted to surprise you!”

Nia smiled, genuinely taken back seeing her little girl excitedly peering at her from over the edge of the desk, “You…wanted to surprise me?”

Cami smiled at how surprised Nia actually looked. She looked from her daughter to her one time best friend, tears lining her eyes. Kaya was giggling, the four-year-old holding out a mother’s day card that was nothing more than a bunch of scribbles to her.

“Momma, you!”

“She’s handing it to you, momma!” Cami smirked.

Nia rushed around the desk and knelt down to her daughter, overwhelmed by the emotions that she’d felt. She reached out, her hand stroking her daughter’s cheek, before pushing back to tuck some of her curls behind her ear, “it’s beautiful baby.”

“Love you momma!”

Kaya nearly threw herself against her mother, her tiny arms wrapping around her as much as they could. Nia leaned into her daughter’s touch, “oh baby…thank you.”

The card lay nearly forgotten between the two of them for a few moments.

“If you’re willing to spring yourself from Dr. Cho for a bit, we could go and grab lunch with the girls. Sam is testing some new wings in the courtyard.”

“Do you wanna grab some lunch, baby?” Nia asked.

Kaya nodded excitedly, “We go lunch with mommy and momma.”

“Yeah baby!” Nia confirmed, “let’s go grab some lunch.”

Sasha bit her nails, unsure of what to do. She sighed, taking a deep breath as the doctor looked at her, “there’s nothing wrong with your daughter, Mrs. Barber, or so it appears, but we’ll know more after tonight.”

“See, I told you,” Andy smiled reassuringly, “Ashley is doing great!”

“Andy, she’s wetting the bed and screaming in the middle of the night…” she said worriedly, “last week she stopped breathing.”

“You thought she stopped breathing.”

“You don’t have to deal with it,” she grumbled, “you sleep like a rock, Andy…”

“Baby…”

“Well, the two of you will have a night off tonight at least,” the doctor attempted to joke, “the sleep study should reveal any issues that she’s been having and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Andy and Sasha shared a look before turning their attention back to the doctor, “you mean we can leave her here?”

“She’ll be monitored the whole night. You two are free to leave. The sleep study will end and we’ll have the results by nine AM.”

“Why do you have to discredit everything that I do?” she spat, the left overs to the dinner she, Andy, and Michael had enjoyed, now being put away.

Andy frowned, “what are you talking about, Sash?”

“The doctor’s office, earlier..I thought Ashley stopped breathing,” she remarked, “no, Andy…I didn’t think it happened. It did happen. I was check-“

“Here we go again,” Andy growled, cutting her off, “you check on the kids through the night and you spotted her in a second where her breath hitched. You didn’t have to go rushing in and make it seem like you were saving her life, Sasha. Ashley was fine. You scared her when you woke her up like that”

“I’m not crazy, Andy…she did stop breathing!”

“Look, I get it…the kids weren’t your first option, but you’re going overboard, Sasha,” he said angrily, his arms crossing over his broad chest. He leaned against the counter and glared at her, “but we had Michael. You walked away and left me with him. He turned out fine. When you came back, you agreed to a second child. You wanted Ashley just as much as I did. You can’t keep going back and forth about this.”

“What the hell are you saying, Andy?”

“You need to get help,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders, “I was talking to Bucky and the guys about it bec-“

“You were talking to Bucky?” she growled, “why the hell were you talking to Bucky and the guys about our relationship, Andrew?”

“Mel’s a counselor baby!”

“Don’t baby me,” she replied angrily, “this is not a situation you can just ‘baby’ your way out of. You were talking about me to the guys…”

“I think you could really help from the support groups that Melissa helps run.”

“I’m not going to that, Andy…we tried it when I went through the postpartum with her, and it didn’t work,” she answered, her defenses building up because of her anger, “my meds are good, and I evened out!”

“You haven’t,” Andy declared, “even before the other week when Ashley supposedly stopped breathing, you were doing things, putting her through unnecessary tests. There’s nothing wrong with our daughter, Sasha…”

“Andy yes there is!”

“No, there isn’t!” he argued, “now here’s what’s going to happen, Sash…because I’m fucking tired of this. Tomorrow morning, when we pick up Ashley and the doctor says there’s nothing wrong with her, you’re going to drop it. No more testing. No more scaring her. We’re done with this endless, needless chase.”

“Somethings wrong, And-“

“SASHA if you don’t drop it, I’m going to drop you…plain and simple. Stop looking for things to be wrong!” Andy said definitively, “because the only issues that exist are the ones that you’re creating!”

“I don’t want to do it, Ari…”

Ari smiled, watching as his wife held their eldest, balanced on her hip, “you’ve already done it once, my love…but if you’re really upset about letting Isaac going to kindergarten in the fall, we could always-“

“Oh no, Levinson, I know where you’re going with that,” Britt smirked. She was quick to cover Israels’ ears, even though the sick kindergartener was in a deep sleep against his mother, “and watch that mouth of yours daddy bears…we’ve got baby ears nearby.”

Ari licked his lips and eyed his wife’s form, her sleep shorts leaving her thighs bare, while the fabric of the cami was pushed down ever so slightly from Israel leaning against her chest, “well…he is asleep…we could put him back down in his bed.”

“Ari…”

Ari sighed, knowing how much she missed spending her days with her growing children. She’d been far too busy at the law firm with her father lately, and had begun missing out on mile markers like Israel losing his first tooth and the Thanksgiving play. And she’d missed Isaac learning how to tie his shoes. And their youngest…Britt was heartbroken when she missed Arianna’s first day of daycare just so that she could get some socialization with children other than her two older brothers.

“I know mommy bear!” Ari agreed, coming in close to his wife. He reached out and took Israel out of her arms, and the little boy snuggled against his father, adjusting quickly, “you wanted to go back to work though…”

“I thought I would be okay…”

“We can talk to your dad together if you want,” Ari offered, “I’m sure he’d underst-“

“No…we can’t bring it up!” she frowned, “you know how much issues he’s having with Sasha…”

“But if this is affecting you this much-“

“Ari…dad doesn’t need the stress…I-I’ll get through it,” she argued quickly and quietly, following her husband as he went to Israel’s room and laid the five year old down, “I just didn’t know that I’d miss spending this much time with the kids…and I mean, one of us has to work…you retired from the embassy. And-“

“Hey…calm down,” Ari said gently. She stared helplessly up at him while he held her by the shoulders, “you are an amazing, intelligent woman, who is a force to be reckoned with, in and out of the courtroom. But you are just one woman. You need to take care of yourself just as much as you want to take care of everyone else. If not being home is getting to you this much that you need an out, I’ll go back to work. I have contacts, and I could pick up as an independent contractor…and I can do it all from home.”

“I can’t just leave dad in the dust…”

“You’re not…and he’ll understand that. You’re a junior partner, and you’ve done so much for him with the law firm. You could still consult. You could work from home if you really want. I’m sure your dad would appreciate you being the one who looks up the background for his cases. He’d love to have some free time. You could step down, and do the leg work,” Ari said kindly, “you’ve always loved that best about being a lawyer anyways.”

“I have…” she admitted, thoughtfully thinking it over, “god, I really have.”

Ari smiled, “see…and you could spend more time with the kids…and with me…”

“There it is,” she teased, “the real reason he’s helping out…”

“Hey…if I get to taste that honeypot more often, who knows,” he shrugged playfully, “I may convince you of a fourth child yet…”

“Ari…”

“That’s not a no,” he smirked, finally letting go of his wife and sauntering out of the room. Britt felt a sense of relief as she thought about what she and Ari discussed. She could talk to her father, and if she really needed to, she knew that Ari would go with her as well and she wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than taking care of herself and her family, “you coming to bed, mommy bear?”

Britt giggled, finally exiting her son’s bedroom. As the door clicked softly behind her she was surprised to see Ari’s shirt in the middle of the hall, leading towards the open bedroom door. As she walked and picked it up, she spotted his sleeping pants just around the corner of the door.

“Ari…”

“Come to bed, mommy bear….daddy’s got a little of his own honey waiting for you…”

Britt giggled a little bit more, her previous anxieties washing away as she lightly jogged down the remaining length of the hall and into her bedroom. Her eyes nearly bulged out as she shut the door. Her husband was laying naked on the bed in front of her.

“Well hello there, mommy bear,” he smirked huskily. Britt’s eyes raked down his muscular, hairy frame. The rasp in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and her thighs instinctively clenched. Her mouth went dry as she watched him stroking his already hard cock, “should we make a little extra time to let mommy bear feel good?”

“Oh I think she more than deserves it!” she purred, sauntering towards her husband as her fingers worked on pulling her camisole off.

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