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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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