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jen-with-a-pen · 11 months

Text

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on.

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was.

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go.

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin.

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand.

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.”

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare.

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head.

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz.

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve.

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared.

You’d never seen Steve scared before.

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors.

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned.

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!”

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in.

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver.

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster.

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–”

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation.

The lights went next.

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close.

Too close.

Another BANG! Then another.

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you.

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in.

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean.

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue.

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment.

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare.

The intruder’s steps stopped.

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous.

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!”

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue.

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold.

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights.

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground.

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway.

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time.

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors.

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor.

You were fast, but he was faster.

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself.

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash.

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords.

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils.

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood.

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium.

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release.

“You owe me what’s mine –!”

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor.

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck.

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!”

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life.

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better.

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter.

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.”

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway.

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though.

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in.

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof.

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras.

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again.

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand.

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face.

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky.

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you.

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial.

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches.

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey.

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you.

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone.

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable.

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless.

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine.

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time.

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt.

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come.

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

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konigsblog · 8 months

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Dbf!makarov 😮‍💨

// legal age gap, somnophillia, dbf!makarov

mmf', you're always trying to capture his attention. being a virgin means that you're easily sensitive, so when he drags you onto his lap and see's how wet you get, how easily you're turned on, he can't help but chuckle. at first, you weren't interested, thinking you're too young for him, till you woke up to your panties stained, cumming all inside them :(

he knew you were a dirty slut when you bent over in thise tiny shorts, giving him a perfect view of your ass. “грязная шлюха, что ты думаешь делаешь?” definitely gets you drunk and makes you all wet and sensitive, greedy for his meaty cock, your dad away on a business trip and giving you him an opportunity to fuck deep into your swollen pussy :( fucks you so roughly; choking, slapping and spanking. full and heavy balls smacking against your tight ass and making you squeal from the impact, silenced by his large, calloused hand pushing your head down against the couch, whimpering with each thrust bringing you closer to your release till you came all over his abdomen!!!

you're so ashamed to have lost your viriginity to an older man, sucking him off slowly before he face fucks you for being too slow :( “глупая девчонка, ты даже не знаешь, что делаешь.” making you scream, gag and sob with each thrust he made, balls slapping against your drool covered chin, hanging and musky and making you all desperate and needy for his attention :(

“dumb baby, look at you... fuckin' needy and desperate, god, what would your father think if i told him how you were all over me and swallowin' my cock whole whilst he was away?”

#makarov x female reader #makarov cod #makarov x reader #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #orla speaks #call of duty modern warfare #makarov call of duty

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lickinglemons · 2 months

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ЭТО КОНЕЧНО ГЛУПАЯ ЛОКАЛЬЩИНА, НО Я ВСЁ РАВНО ХОЧУ ВЫЛОЖИТЬ ИБО МНЕ ХИХИШНО

#мор утопия #pathologic

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casualbos-bir · 3 months

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Ну и пускай, пускай, что ты наивная, Немного глупая, смешная, осторожная, А ты ведь тоже кем-то так любимая, И для кого-то самая хорошая.

Ну и пускай, немного неуклюжая, Не первая красавица, а всё-таки Ты для кого-то самая красивая, И для кого-то самая весёлая.

Ну и пускай бываешь слишком скромная, И что с того, что ты порой угрюмая, Есть кто влюблен в глаза твои бездонные, Немного грустные, холодные и сонные.

Ну и пускай, не знаешь в жизни многого, И может даже шутишь невпопад, А для кого-то взгляд твой стоит дорого, И смех твой словно в жажду водопадНу и пускай, пускай тебе всё кажется, Что ты увы не так уж хороша... Но для кого-то самая любимая, Но для кого-то вся его душа.

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vikomdynasty · 4 days

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✒️Спящий волк: переплетающиеся судьбы [15/?]

📑 ⇦ | ⇨

📌 Простите за такой резкий переход событий, но я не захотела показывать и описывать абсолютно каждый шаг. Этот эпизод и так дался с огромным трудом. Продолжение в процессе. Считайте, что Стару пришла анонимная СМС-ка о необходимости срочно прибыть в нужное место и он, конечно же, бросился сломя голову туда... На этот счет у меня и правда были идеи, но я решила не делать пару незначительных кадров. Вполне возможно, что его попросила о помощи Ребекка, либо написал кто-то из друзей.

Текст диалогов:

Где-то посреди Честнат-Риджа. Ребекка: *безуспешно пытается освободиться* Равновесие: *раздраженно вздыхает* Хватит рыпаться. У тебя все равно ничего не выйдет. Ребекка: Чокнутая! Отпусти меня! Равновесие: Не раньше, чем он явится. Ребекка: Кто он? Ты вообще нормальная?! Людей похищать средь бела дня! Ещё и вырядилась как фрик какой-то! Ты не из психушки ли часом сбежала? Равновесие: Не испытывай моё терпение. Ребекка: Ой, напугала. Подойди ближе и узнаешь на кого напоролась. Равновесие: Не скаль зубки зря, глупая волчица. Ты меня этим не напугаешь. Ребекка: *пытается обратиться* Почему я… Равновесие: Что? Не можешь обратиться? Ребекка: Чертова ведьма! Дай мне только добраться до тебя... ??: Что тут происходит? Равновесие: *самодовольно усмехаясь* А вот и главный виновник. Как и предсказывалось. Твоя натура неизменна.

#brokenagesims4stories #thedormantwolf #vikom gen3 star #vikom gen3 #vikom dynasty #династия виком #brokenagesims4 #sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 dynasty #sims 4 story #simblr #simblog #симс 4 #симс 4 скриншоты #симс 4 династия #симс 4 история #симблер #симблог

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trofysisters · 2 months

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Катя

Питомцы требовали много внимания, из-за чего их воспитанием приходилось заниматься не только Сашке, но и Кате.

(The pets required a lot of attention, which is why not only Sasha, but also Katya had to raise them)

Лучше бы они уделяли больше времени дочери, которой грозило бы отчисление из школы за ужасную успеваемость, но завтра уже выпускной бал. А ведь Карина старалась на уроках, даже подготовила доклад по истории, от которого одноклассники пришли в восторг. Кто же знал, что игра "Assassin's Creed", сюжет из которой Карина использовала, не основана на исторических фактах. Вредный учитель поставил двойку, еще и после уроков оставил за разговоры.

(It would be better if they devoted more time to their daughter, who would be threatened with expulsion from school for terrible academic performance, but tomorrow is the prom. But Karina tried hard in class, even prepared a report on history, which her classmates were delighted with. Who knew that the game "Assassin's Creed", the plot from which Karina used, was not based on historical facts. The harmful teacher gave her a bad grade and left her after school because of her talking)

Увидев вернувшуюся из школы грустную дочь, Катя рассказала ей несколько анекдотов и с чувством выполненного материнского долга удалилась. Вот только настроение у девочки не улучшилось. Она по-прежнему не чувствовала себя нужной и любимой.

(Seeing her sad daughter return from school, Katya told her several jokes and left with a feeling of fulfilled maternal duty. But the girl’s mood did not improve. She still didn't feel needed or loved)

Несколько часов спустя, когда Сузи опять начала громить квартиру, Карина обнаружила, что осталась с собаками одна.

(A few hours later, when Susie began trashing the apartment again, Karina saw that she was left alone with the dogs)

Родители решили развлечься в городе и отправились в подпольное казино, где много лет назад Сашка проиграл почти состояние Пиковой Даме, но в этот раз с ним была его верная супруга.

(The parents decided to have fun in the city and went to an underground casino, where many years ago Sasha lost almost a fortune to the Queen of Spades, but this time his faithful wife was with him)

Кто опять проиграл? Сашка! По крайней мере, проиграл он Кате, и пострадала только его гордость. Долго обижаться на жену он не мог, ведь они сильно любили друг друга.

(Who lost again? Sasha! At least he lost to Katya, and only his pride suffered. He could not be offended by his wife for a long time, because they loved each other very much)

Отыграться Сашка решил в танцевальном конкурсе, но проиграл более молодому Филе. Да, Сашка, мы знаем, что мешает хорошему танцору!

(Sasha decided to win back in a dance competition, but lost to the younger Filya. Yes, Sasha, we know what hinders a good dancer!)

А вот Катя снова была на высоте и выиграла этот конкурс. Хоть конкурировать пришлось не с мужем, а то он бы опять обиделся.

(But Katya again rose to the occasion and won this competition. At least she didn’t have to compete with her husband, otherwise he would have been offended again)

В это время Карина проклинала дурацких собак, свою жизнь и непутевых родителей, убирая за питомцами.

(At this time, Karina, cleaning up after her pets, cursed the stupid dogs, her life and her unlucky parents)

Зато на следующее утро она шла в ��колу с отличным настроением. Прощай, глупая учеба и злые учителя! Кстати, сегодня выпускной и у Ады.

(But the next morning she went to school in a great mood. Goodbye, stupid studies and evil teachers! By the way, today is Ada’s graduation)

Карина договорилась с подружкой пойти на бал вместе. Ну их, этих тупых мальчишек. Они отлично повеселятся и без них.

(Karina and her friend agreed to go to the ball together. They don't need these stupid boys. They will have great fun without them)

Сашка вновь предпринял попытки воспитать собак, но те только делали вид, что очень сожалеют.

(Sasha again made attempts to punish the dogs, but they only pretended to be very sorry)

Бросив это гиблое дело, он уделил внимание жене. Дочка вернется домой поздно. Так почему бы им не развлечься?!

(Having abandoned this disastrous business, he paid attention to his wife. Their daughter will return home late. So why shouldn't they have fun?!)

Супруги отправились в недавно построенный Игровой центр.

(The couple went to the newly built Game Center)

С первого взгляда было понятно, что Центр облюбовали дети и старики. Супруги так сильно увлеклись настольными играми, что время пролетело для них незаметно, и вернуться к приезду дочери они не успели.

(At first glance, it was clear that the Center was chosen by children and old people. The couple became so engrossed in board games that time flew by unnoticed for them, and they did not have time to return in time for their daughter’s arrival)

Карина получило огромное удовольствие от бала. Они с подругой даже выиграли главный приз за парный танец. Омрачило вечер только вручение аттестатов в конце.

(Karina really enjoyed the school ball. She and her friend even won the main prize for a couples dance. The only thing that marred the evening was the presentation of certificates at the end)

Не видать Карине стипендии в университете. Еще и заплатить придется, чтобы приняли на первый курс. А вот Ада была вполне всем довольна.

(Karina will not receive a scholarship at the university. She will also have to pay to be accepted into the first year. But Ada was quite happy with everything)

#sims 2 #devchata #katya #karina

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maaaryyyyx · 3 months

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Барбара: Алло, подъем. Когда ты найдёшь нормальную работу?

Габриэль: Я же сказал, что скоро! Что непонятного?

Барбара: Не надо на меня орать, понятно?

Габриэль: Я не ору, а громко говорю.

Барбара: Я не вижу, чтобы ты громко говорил. Ты орёшь.

Габриэль: Потому что ты постоянно пилишь меня этим вопросом. Сказал же, что скоро. Ты сама была против того, чтобы я работал в ветеринарной больнице. Пока что мне достаточно платят в баре.

Барбара: По твоему мнению этой суммы достаточно? Габриэль, нам едва хватает, чтобы оплатить аренду дома.

Габриэль: Зачем ты опять пилишь? Меня раздражает постоянное давление с твоей стороны. Пилишь, пилишь, пилишь. У меня уже дыра в голове из-за тебя. Прошло 2 месяца, а ты всё также пилишь и пилишь.

Барбара: А меня раздражает, что ты не можешь обеспечить свою женщину! Из тебя вышел дерьмовый мужик, Габриэль. По твоему о такой жизни я мечтала?!

Габриэль: Тогда собирай свои вещи и проваливай. Найди себе нормального и богатого, ты же явно достойна большего. Можешь даже вернуться к этому сутинёру, от которого я тебя спас. Благодаря мне ты смогла переехать и начать делать всё, что тебе вздумается.

Барбара: Хорошо. Отличная идея.

Габриэль: Ты хреновая девушка! И матерью ты будешь хреновой, если вдруг вообще станешь.

Габриэль: Куда ты собираешься?

Барбара: ...

Габриэль: Я задал вопрос. Ответь!

Барбара: Подальше от тебя.

Габриэль: Ты никуда не пойдёшь. Убирай вещи по местам и пошли ужинать.

Барбара: Ты вообще соображаешь, что делаешь? Габриэль, мне надоело.

Габриэль: А мне надоело твоё отношение ко мне.

Барбара: Глупая была идея соглашаться стать в будущем твоей женой, глупо было пытаться быть с тобой, глупо было начинать тысячу раз пытаться быть снова вместе. Ты не слышишь никого, кроме себя. Тебе всё равно на меня и моё мнение. Тебе всё равно на то, через что мы прошли.

Габриэль: А ты думала обо мне, когда делала аборт? Думала обо мне, когда начала пить противозачаточные? Думала обо мне, когда пошла в университет и на работу? Нет, тебе было всё равно. Я всегда думал о тебе. Тебе плохо? Я идут тебя поддерживать. Ты хочешь в университет? Хорошо, иди. Хочешь в Комореби? Ладно, переедем. Не хочешь, чтобы я общался с Мими? Ладно, без проблем. Даже когда тебя изна...

Барбара: Не смей говорить это...

Габриэль: Когда тебя изнасиловали по твоей же вине, я пришёл к тебе, поддержал тебя и закрыл глаза на всё.

Барбара: Ты думаешь, что я хотела этого? Думаешь, что я знала..

Габриэль: Ты работала добровольно в проституции, Барбара. Хватит винить во всём меня! Хватит! Я устал от тебя и твоих слов.

Барбара: Я сделаю тебе одолжение, Габриэль. Не вздумай появиться в моём поле зрения, иначе я вызову полицию. Ты сказал достаточно и этого хватило, чтобы понять, что я сделала неправильный выбор, когда доверилась тебе. Ты самый глупый человек, которого я встречала на своём пути.

2 недели спустя...

Мими: Габриэль, ты здесь?! Прости, дверь была открыта.

Габриэль: Ты пришла.

Мими: Более сотни пропущенных на телефоне меня вынудили. Где твоя девушка? Почему ты в таком виде. Что черт возьми здесь произошло?

Габриэль: Я мудак. Она ушла. Я урод и наговорил столько дерьма. Я не хотел!

Мими: Хорошо, тише. Я здесь, всё хорошо.

Габриэль: Пожалуйста, Мими, будь со мной. Не уходи, пожалуйста. Мне тяжело, очень тяжело. Я устал.

Мими: Хорошо, останусь, но если ты думаешь, что я запасной вариант, то сразу забудь об этом. Я такого не достойна.

Габриэль: Нет, стой. Ты не запасной вариант, Снежинка! Прости, всё запуталось. Я запутался.

Мими: Что ты сделал, Габриэль?..

...

Мими: Да, конечно. Ну и натворил ты дерьма. А вы хоть любили друг друга?

Габриэль: Я не знаю...не знаю, я...мы...Я не знаю.

Мими: Ну...

Габриэль: Я начал встречаться с ней в школе, когда нужно было забыть о тебе. А потом я влюбился и готов был сделать для неё всё. Меня душит этот город, эта страна, эти стены. Меня буквально убивает всё, что здесь есть.

Мими: Эй, тише. Я рядом, не переживай, хорошо? Я буду рядом пока ты не придёшь в норму.

Габриэль: Я должен умереть.

Мими: Ну нет, не неси бред. Ты достаточно много выпил, чтобы решать – жить или не жить.

Габриэль: Поехали со мной?

Мими: Что?

Габриэль: На ранчо. У меня хватит денег на одну сторону, я куплю нам билеты. За дос не переживай, мои мне помогут.

Мими: Ты пьян.

Габриэль: Нет, я почти трезвый. Помнишь, ты обещала мне, что всегда будешь рядом? Прошу, будь со мной в этот период времени.

Мими: Хорошо.

Габриэль: Нет, прости. Не бери этот бред в голову, я эгоист и думаю только о себе. У тебя тут всё: работа, друзья..

Мими: А там у меня будешь ты.

Габриэль: Я?..

УРААААА.ОФИЦИАЛЬНО.ЭТО.КОНЕЦ. Понимаю, что возможно вы в шоке, что всё закончилось ТАК...но с Мими мы познакомимся ближе в следующей главе.

#симс #the sims cc #sims 4 cc #симс 4 персонаж #sims 4 story #симс 4 династия #sims 4 gameplay #симс 4 челлендж #династия симс 4

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frotea · 1 month

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I was inspired by a Russian song called "Sucks", specifically the first words of the song, which translates to -

To your weird new girlfriend I'll sprinkle some love

From the glass straight into the blood

I also like one part of the song because I can see Sans saying it with a chuckle. He says that Aliza could have forgotten about the monsters a long time ago and lived a peaceful life, but she sticks her hand in the trap again.

This translates to -

Looking at your actions

Realizing I was wrong

Staring into your eyes, feeling sad, I say 'azaza'

We got no relationship, only a stupid sense of obligation

But it looks like you're enjoying

Being attached

Твоей новой стрёмной девушке подсыплю я любовь

Из бокала прямо в кровь!

Из бокала прямо в кровь!~

Да, вдохновила песней "Отстой" от Ники КраснаЯ

Так же мне нравится одна часть песни, ибо при ней я так и вижу как Санс с издёвкой это произносит. Говоря так что она могла уже давно забыть о монстрах и жить спокойной жизнью, но она снова суёт свою руку в капкан

Оценив свои поступки

Поняла, что неправа

Посмотрев в твои глаза, приуныла, сказав слова "азаза"

У нас не отношения, а глупая обязанность

Но тебе походу нравится

Быть привязанным!

Спасибо @venelona за перевод песни! Я очень этому благодарна!

#sans #undertale_au #sketh #horrortale #aliza #horrorend #horrorend sans #horrorend aliza

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tshadyy · 1 month

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Sketch Shang Tsung🐍

My Telegram Channel!!

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk fandom #Мортал комбат #mk #mortal kombat shang tsung #mk shang tsung #mortal kombat fandom #shang tsung

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terraelbus · 16 days

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[just a stupid thought that popped into my head]

As soon as the Dreamberrys started dating, Ink definitely made jokes about incest or said, “Incest runs in the family,” several times. After all, the apple brothers were created in the likeness of Swap, so in a sense, Blue is Dream’s father

[просто глупая мысль, которая пришла мне в голову]

Как только Дримберри начали встречаться, Инк точно несколько раз шутил шутки про инцест или приговаривал "Инцест - дело семейное". Ведь яблочные братья создавались по подобию Свапа, так что в каком-то смысле Блу отец Дрима

#utmv #utmv hc #utmv headcanons #ink sans #dream sans #swap sans #star sanses #dreamberry #swap x dream #dream x swap #dreamtale brothers #dreamtale twins #dreamtale

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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your pegging fic with bucky was SO FUCKING GOOD. can you please do another one?? like im literally so into it i was drooling the whole time

as for plot, just making him cry again LOL and overall just having him be a mess because

we love that for him.

thank you thank you thank you!

Bro I am so sorry I have no clue how this escalated. You have another free Bucky railing fic that doesn’t include my brain going wild. But he do be crying and a complete mess. Thanks for asking and I hope you are at the LEAST entertained!

Goes along with Praise Kink

Shadowplay - Joy Division

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3,882

Tags: TW‼️WHUMP, DEAD DOVE, UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS, OFF SCREEN SUI‼️, Everyone is crazy, the reader is having a Hydra Life Crisis, Lots of ass play, pegging(m!receiving), fem dom, reader is ace spectrum, Bucky is a crybaby overstimulated touchstarved Angel, praise kink, slight dacry, angst ANGST ANGSTTTTT, switching pov’s like me in bed, they do a little Russian it’s called they do a little Russian, Hydra!Reader

A/N: idk man I’m just a vessel, also just liked the idea of there being a lead up to Buckbuck being like I Cannot Compute Anymore You Assholes then his boyfriend Steve saves the day💞 HC: Pierce likes Bucky be in emotional pain so sends him to her thinking he’ll kill the reader. Translations under cut

Russian translations: Милый (dear), блять (bitch/whore), глупая девчонка (foolish girl), Малыш (baby/bb boy), Умница (good boy), да (yes), хуй (cock), Трахни меня (fuck me), командир (commander), Спасибо (thanks/ty), зимний солдат (winter soldier)

To the center of the city where all roads meet, waiting for you.

To the depths of the ocean where all hopes sank, searching for you

The asset knew he had to report to his Komandir. That’s what happened every mission. They tried to tell the asset that Rumlow was his handler now. Rumlow was not his handler. Komandir was. But she had been gone for some time and he needed her back. The strike team leader was reckless and too bloodthirsty, not calculating enough. The asset could not say that out loud.

He trudged through dark alleys and poorly lit streets, rain pelting down on his leather tactical gear.

Nice Komandir. She was nice. The asset had unregulated emotions for her. He needed maintenance badly. First, the asset must give the mission report to her. The fake handler would be monitoring for the asset now, with their dogs and strike team.

Strike team would not find the asset. He will return himself after reporting to Komandir. The asset got intel on her whereabouts. She was relocated in New York under a new alias. The asset could almost smell her, see her, if he focused enough.

His boots slapped through a puddle before launching up a fire escape. The rain poured down harder— threatening to fill up the alley like an ocean. The asset would swim until his lungs gave out. The Director couldn’t take her away, putting her in an swarm of people or in the deepest cave. Because the asset would find her. She had to be locked up. She would never leave the asset.

They took her— he’d decided earlier after reporting to the pretender. The asset’s morale was sinking fast under Rumlow. That’s when the Director informed the asset on his Komandir. The Director had waved a hand dismissively, “Go find her then, do what you must and come back.” He didn’t understand but went out anyways.

I was moving through the silence without motion, waiting for you.

In a room with a window in the corner, I found truth.

Soldat climbed higher and higher until he was outside her window. He’d memorized it over and over and over and over. The asset grappled onto the thin balcony with a jump, using the moment to swing himself onto the platform. His covered eyes gathered the limited surroundings. A couple of flowerpots, an ashtray on the windowsill, and her familiar face gaping in the window.

The asset wanted to weep, kneel, receive her perfect touch. The asset only got stabs, bloody thrusts, and punches between his bloodshot eyes. Then wiped and put on ice. Although he hadn’t been put on ice much since transitioning to the United States. They had lots of people to get rid of before that. So the Director wiped him more often.

The window opened and her familiar rasp rang out in the rainy night, “Sweet soldier. You must be cold. Come in.” The asset nodded dumbly, shoving himself precariously through the window, contorting his broad shoulders and thighs to get through. Inside was a silent, thinly furnished room.

Cigarette stubbed beside the couch, the television playing something. His blues caught on a blanket and book, her handgun laid on top. Air blew the curtains softly from the window in the corner. The asset whimpered, “Where did you go Komandir?,” he fell to padded knees, “I cannot comply when Rumlow doesn’t have clearance for mission report.”

She cooed and stood tall as always, only clad in a thin gown. Komandir’s lips turned down at the mention of Rumlow. Her hands brushed his cheeks. Off came the goggles, then the mask. The asset’s wide blue eyes followed her obediently. One of her calloused thumbs strummed against his stubbled jaw. She said, “Sweetheart, I’m not officially your handler, not your Komandir anymore.”

He nuzzled into her hand, lips already wobbling. Why would they replace the best Komandir? She learned from Vasily Karpov, Vasily from…from. He couldn’t remember— there had been so many. One that smelled of aftershave and two older men with glasses that made him feel very cold.

She sighed, “They said I wasn’t worth their time sweet boy. I had to go.” The asset believed her, Komandir always told the truth. She knelt down and smiled, tears welling in her eyes. “You’re a star, precious, you shine so bright that not everyone can keep up with it.”

He replied, a ghostly whisper if anything, “The left me to Agent Rumlow. You couldn’t stay under him?”

Fear laced her stern features for the first time. The asset grew uneasy. His programming was screaming, “Maintenance! MAINTENANCE!” Her heart rate spiked rapidly while the agent fumbled for words. He gripped her wrist to bark, “You defected then! You defected like a coward and left me,” a sob tore his throat, “with them!”

His silver hand wrenched Komandir‘s other wrist towards him, her grunting in pain. Her breasts heaved as she panted. The asset glared her down, so many emotions swirling he felt he may explode. She lied to him. Why would she lie to him? Her star.

“Soldat. Status Report please,” she quavered.

Soldat’s tight shoulders relaxed minutely as he listed off, “Physical functions one-hundred percent. Maintenance required as soon as possible. Confusion, dangerously elevated norepinephrine, panic, traumatic response, and- and-,” he bit his tongue to stare. Komandir’s face was wrought with grief.

She murmured, climbing into the asset’s lap, “I need you to slow down comrade. It’s just you and me right now,” she pet his long locks to elicit that chest deep purr, “Can I tell you what happened while I get you clean sweet boy?”

The asset’s lids dropped at her soft body, familiar scent, and wise words. His plump lips trembled while whining, “P-please. I-I’m becoming…defective.”

“I know,” she soothed, “I know.”

In the shadowplay, acting out your own death, knowing no more.

As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor.

As the former agent pet her broken star her chest constricted with emotions. Pierce knew. The bond between asset and handler had grown entirely too close. He’d spat at her, “That thing is a weapon, not a puppy for you to coddle.” She wanted to tell the Director that a person could only go so long under this treatment before snapping completely. Render them useless to the plan. Whatever that may be.

Surprisingly Pierce had demoted her down to the lowest strike team squadron and elevated the prick Rumlow to be the next handler. The Director’s shiny teeth looked like fangs as he spoke, “I’ll keep you around because of your…skills. Any infractions you’re dead.”

So the former Komandir was a grunt again, under Strike Team Omega. They mainly went around sabotaging small terrorist cells. Soldat whined under her hand again, the woman tilting his wide eyes up. She frowned. Poor baby looked so broken, so lost. He had no clue he was going to leave here without his Komandir.

“Take off your gear, precious,” she ordered.

The Russian divested soldat of his guns and knives, laying them out on a neat line. She asked, “How much are they putting you on ice sweet boy?” His blues grew disoriented as he thought. Mechanical as ever, Soldat’s hands divested his leather top.

“Not much. More wipes. Something is coming.”

Something was coming. Maybe not now but in a couple of years. Pierce had something big. There was a reason scientists were holed up in one the hangars, crews building day and night. So they were over-using the soldier to make sure nothing crept out.

She thumbed the seam of scars along the asset’s prosthetic, the other’s hands jolting at the sensation. His pretty lips opened to whimper. Komandir unbuckled his belt and hummed, “They demoted me. I was with a lower strike team. I couldn’t take it anymore. W-without you I cannot provide anything useful for the greater cause.”

The woman remembered her last point. They were in Zagreb celebrating after a arms dealing commune was torn to shreds. Instead of going home, the team helped themselves to the women in trafficking. Assassins, warriors— dancing fools with these broken women. The former handler left and didn’t look back. She knew nothing. Hydra had a purpose once. It grew rancid just like everything else.

And with cold steel, odor on their bodies made a move to connect.

But I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.

Alone in the world again. The Komandir wandered and wandered. Somehow always getting roped back into the underbelly of civilization. She told the silent asset about it. He seemed just as lost contemplating free will.

“I joined a couple of syndicates, former KGB, some widows. I moved around the states and just found no one had a goal. I just try to get by now, my sweet. It’s not pretty out there.”

She wiped her nose, “And to think I’d always dreamed of having you to myself forever. Sick. Selfish.”

I did everything, everything I wanted to.

I let them use you for their own ends.

Tears welled in Komandir’s eyes. She pulled his huge frame close and cried into greasy hair. “I should have got you back, kept you safe, get Hydra back to stage one,” her voice cracked, “I don’t know. I just ran and left them to break you down even more. I-I-I-I’m so sorry Милый, I’m so sorry.”

The Russian knew how this would end. She would die and be a remnant of something unattainable. Perfect was unattainable. Soldat was the closest she would witness and that’s enough. She stroked his wide back with gentle circles, sobs dying.

Soldat’s voice was a dull rasp in the pitch room.

“What would you have me do, Komandir?”

He looked so hopeful. Rage filled her heart, cracking and blistering from exposure. Run with me, start anew, kill that блять Pierce. The woman sat back and put on a smile. She purred, “I would have you relax and let me take care of you, sweetness.”

The asset nodded, unlacing his boots, plates in his arm clacking and humming. The woman thumbed his delicate nose, the thin skin under a once bright blue eye. She whispered, “Such a pretty soldat, perfect soldat.” Silent tears slid down her face. Vasily was probably in a hideout shaking his head. глупая девчонка.

She said, “I’m going to get the bath running, just lay your clothes out and join me,” she shushed his panicked noise, “Just around the corner Малыш.” She padded through the small apartment, ignoring the state of it. Soldat likely cared.

The former agent ran it scalding hot, throwing some lavender in there. She readied a towel and fluffed it. The bath tub was small, but she wanted to pamper her perfect star anyways. She worried her lip, he seemed to be cracking, bad. Too much time off ice and repeated wipes have not been studied. Komandir had never heard him speak so much, all that raw emotion.

Soldat’s hulking frame shadowed the doorway. Knelt down the Komandir beckoned him over. He gracefully clambered into the tub, sitting down with a grimace.

“Too hot?”

“No. I like it hot,” he murmured.

Her eyes roved the beauty of his body, stopping on heated cheeks, full lips, bulky chest, and that beautiful cock. It laid on his belly, a deep red and leaking. His balls were tight but she could see the stress, the heaviness of it. Supersoldiers needed to cum much more than the average man.

The woman grabbed a cup and dunked it to fill it up. Her other hand cupped his knee, thumbing the soft inside. Soldat whimpered again, dark lashes fluttering. She poured the water over his oily dark hair, doing it again until it was soaked.

“Lean up baby.”

She poured some cheap shampoo into her palm, lathering it up. The asset groaned deep in his chest at the contact— nails scritch-scratching away the oils and dirt. He stated, “I’m not supposed to remember you.” His watchful orbs looked up.

“You’re not supposed to remember that you’re not supposed to remember, Умница.”

He bit down on his lip and warbled, “I’m s-scared Komandir. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

You’re falling apart.

“Shh, baby, in the moment now, in the moment.”

He stilled but Soldat’s eyes had that ingrained wide-eyed fear. She washed the suds out and combed through the tangles, earning some pretty sighs. The Komandir found herself lecturing, “What the Americans do not get…you have to make sure your weap- agents are clean and cared for.”

She hissed while scrubbing his wide shoulders and neck, littered with yellowed bruises, “They don’t take care of their prized fist, that’s why poor soldat is feeling down.” He nodded along, shoulders relaxing minutely. Komandir washed down his arms, digging out the blood encrusted into the plates.

She did the rest methodically: Wash the feet, move down to the toes, calves, thighs. Stop. Soldat was mewling and squirming, face trained on her. His lips wobbled, brow furrowed in agony. The asset whined, “Komandir, please, need your touch, help me.” She ran a hand slowly down his trembling belly, palming the swollen cock.

“Soon, Малыш,” she promised.

His bitten lips pouted, but her good boy always listened. She stated, “I was blind that Hydra would keep the original goal alive. I felt more confident leaving knowing that. But I was wrong, sweet baby. You’re the key and they don’t know it.”

Komandir pulled out a straight razor and shaving cream. She shaved his stubble while continuing, “You will be the one to change Hydra. Burn it into the ground or rise above the sham it’s become. That’s your reality, and the time will come. You must not fail now dear soldat.”

He steeled himself, relaxing under orders, vague as they are. She knew Soldat knew he had to wait for the perfect moment. The brunette thanked her in the softest voice when she wiped off his newly cleaned cheeks. The woman cooed, “Never seen a prettier baby. Turn over so I can get everything.”

By the time she’d cleaned and prepped the soldier out he was a mess. He’d come once already, scrabbling at the tile and wailing in ecstasy. Poor thing wasn’t done. Now dry, her perfect soldier rutted against her soft, soft thigh. His pink lips were sealed around her nipple, whining and suckling.

She pulled at his long locks and said, “As a gift,“ she tapped his cleft chin, “Do you want your Komandir to fuck your sweet hole?” The Russian wouldn’t mention it was a final gift. He babbled in multiple languages but the message was clear— fuck me. She smiled down at his teary cheeks and cooed, “Eager baby. I’ll show you what it’s like to be fucked. Not like those jackasses.”

“Mmmh-pleaseee,” the brunette wantonly begged. He rutted against the bedding while the Komandir moved to a chest in the room. The asset drooled, spreading his thick thighs to draaag his achy cock against the too-soft material— eliciting an annoyed whine.

“Almost there my star,” she laughed. There were some noises of clipping and leather. To their ears it sounded like a gun belt or harness of sorts.

She clicked the heavy black silicone into place. There was no other side to stimulate the woman. Same as it always was, it was her precious boy’s pleasure to take, not her own.

Ambling over to the bedside she asked, “Front or back sweetheart?”

“Front, front, front!,” he babbled.

“Okay. When you see me and change your mind just say so baby.”

He made a confused gesture but flipped onto his back, exposing that pretty pink cock again. Drool actively collected on his plump lips at the sight of Komandir’s strap. He obviously had never seen anything like it. Scarred hands gave it a slow stroke, fingers barely able to meet around the girth.

“Well?”

The asset whined her name thinly, begging for her to take him. She climbed upon the bed one knee at a time, hand on the cock, eyes heady and glued on the trembling soldier. She purred, “Are you sure you want it? Reaaaally think baby boy, there’s freedom of choice under all that mess.”

She tried to play it across seductively but the true meaning was laid bare. Soldat’s eyes flicked about the heavy silicone, throat bobbing in anticipation. He began to speak, faltered, frustrated tears welling up. Finally with his head down the soldier croaked, “Please, want you, please.”

“I’ve got you.”

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

She stripped off the gown and tossed it to the dingy carpet. The woman crawled between his legs and kissed a path up to his waiting mouth, puckered tightly. He was vibrating with need, huge arms circling around Komandir’s slim waist. He closed the gap, licking into her open lips.

The woman seized Soldat’s throat with a loose grip, just to stabilize the inevitable freefall. The brunette’s lips were insistent, demanding— like he was trying to take her soul. She moaned lowly, twisting around his probing tongue easily, lips wetly smacking. She nipped his lip playfully, squeezing his veined throat.

The soldier cried out, teeth gnashing against hers as he kissed and kissed and sucked. The soft skin of Komandir’s belly rubbed against Soldat’s achy need, sending pin pricks of pleasure to overstimulated nerves. When she suckled on his tongue, the titanium arm shifted with a shrill whine.

She pulled back breathless, patting the hand once round Soldat’s throat on his sweaty chest. He mewled in frustration, rutting his cock into the air, no release on the horizon. The Russian cooed, “More kisses soon needy boy. You want my cock in you, да?”

Soldat nodded, tears dripping like a leaky faucet down his red red cheeks. The assassin spread his legs wide open, tucking heels against the meat of his ass. Komandir crooned, “Look at you, precious thing, all open and ready for my хуй.”

“Трахни меня! Fuck me!,” he sobbed.

She shushed him with a slight slap to a muscular thigh, wrapping them up around her hips afterward. A once-manicured hand guided the fake cock to the asset’s pink hole, glistening and ready with slick. He babbled, “Oh please- need it, командир, please!”

Without a pause she jabbed the entire length into his eager ass, pretty soldat crying in relief, ripping his big hands through the shitty sheets. She thrust into him deeper, before pulling out with a lurid squelch, then diving back in twice as hard.

The Komandir poured all over her anger, heartache, stupid stupid love, agony into the brutal fucking. The asset’s brown locks bounced around as he drooled and moaned like a slip of a thing getting her pussy split in half. He was in paradise. The woman grunted, smoothing her palms up his ridged torso, “Singing so sweetly baby, you feeling good star?”

“Y-yes,” he choked on his spit, “Gonna cum!”

She cocked her head in surprise, not missing a beat, “So soon, after I milked you out in the tub too? Greedy babe.” More tears leaked at the humiliation, the asset pulling her on top of his writhing body. He nuzzled into her sweaty hair, panting, “Mmmfuck, more, always more, never enough from you Komandir.”

Finding her own eyes growing wet the woman fucked him harder, shaking hand rolling his still swollen balls around. The asset mewled in her hair, getting it sticky with spit. His back was tightly arched as he clung to her. Behavior one wouldn’t see out of a six foot, two-hundred something pound killing machine.

He whimpered, “M’cumming, cumming for you, fuck!”

She seized his newly shaved chin and pressed damp foreheads together. The Russian breathed, “C’mon then, paint me up my precious. Good boys like you get to cum all they want.” He fell apart beautifully, all violent twitches of big muscles and the bloody biting of lips. Cum plastered her belly and even tits. The asset cried for his Komandir, trembling as she licked his tears up.

A feeling of time slipping struck the woman in the chest. In a fervent frenzy she coaxed him onto his belly, the soldier still dazed from the earlier release. The woman propped his ass up, praising the greatest creation of Hydra through her tears.

Die between his beautiful thighs.

She slid back into his sore hole, thumbing around the rim as she watched the stretch. Soldat snuffled, “Спасибо, Спасибо, Спасибо.” The brunette rutted back onto her brutal thrusts, bracing himself on his arms. Constant noises dried his mouth out but everything felt so good. His Komandir, back again to take care of the asset.

The Komandir was drilling his sweet spot dead-on now, moaning softly in delight. She pulled at her precious baby’s engorged cock and cooed in his ear, “Taking me so well, that’s my boy. I love you. You’re going to do big things,” he sobbed and spread out sluttily, “Bigger than me, Rumlow, Director, the whole lot of them.”

The asset was mewling and babbling, nose runny from how overwhelmed his body was. Everything felt like it was getting fucked on his touchstarved body. The cum getting forced out of his balls was spreading all over Komandir’s bed. But he was listening to her words, trying to, hard when he was about to explode.

“Promise me зимний солдат,” she whispered, “Promise me that when the chance comes you take it, okay sweetling? Do it for your Komandir who loves her star very much.” The woman couldn’t hide the crack in her voice at the end. Those gorgeous blues gazed at her like she was good, whole, someone who hung the moon and stars.

“глупая девчонка”, Vasily would say.

The woman kissed his blubbering lips to stop herself from crumpling. He panted, “I promise, I promise Komandir. I will cuh-comply.” He was puffing out weak cries now, twisting underneath her clumsy strokes. She swiped her thumb over the red hot tip of the asset’s cock and watched him spill for a third time, crumpling with a cracking wail. Only a bit spurted out this time.

The Komandir pressed her lips to the center of his spine, chest heaving. She sounded like a broken machine at this point. “Promise me, promise me precious star.” He wept, “I promise, I do, I love you, always follow my Komandir.”

The once prideful woman knew that was the last words her boy should utter. She eased out of his overtaxed hole, shushing him and holding on to that sweet little mewl for dear life. She took off the harness, aware of the soldier waiting. The woman would cuddle up for now, letting the soldier gather her up in his warm embrace. She snuggled tight, imprinting this moment into her soul.

His breath petered out into slow puff, mumbling ‘love you’ sleepily. The Komandir slid from his embrace, padding to the kitchen. Her heart was eerily calm. She knew this had to occur for the greatest creation of Hydra to rise above. His pain would fuel the fire of the future.

She scrawled out a letter, sweet as could be, apologizing for everything. The woman knew she deserved death. She wouldn’t make him do it. Ripping off the Hydra insignia necklace she kept on her neck was placed on the letter.

The woman moved the the couch and grabbed the gun. Shift, click, pray for me soldat, pull.

To the center of the city in the night, waiting for you.

#READ THE TW AND TAGS #answered asks #bucky is touch starved #ws bucky gets his ass rammed #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #hydra trash party #hydra reader #angsty angst angst #songfic

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