#phoenix's posts

[fucking-hydra]

okay, i really want to get back to writing (because i've been in a hell of a slump), but i really want to know what y'all want to see on this blog. the fluffier stuff? the more violent stuff? hydra husbands or stucky or starker? what are we all feeling tonight in this chili's

[fucking-hydra]

Longing

Some soft ish Bucky/Rollins, with a little background Bucky/Steve and Hydra Husbands. Just something in our head that needed to be written down (and might become a whole series? who knows).

Warnings: Brief references to abuse and trauma.

The door opens, and Jack raises an eyebrow, straightens his posture slightly. “Rogers think that sending you in would warm me up?” He asks, and Bucky laughs hollowly.

“Nah, Stevie damn near used the trigger words himself just to stop me from coming in here. Only thing that stopped him is he didn’t want to be like you.”

Jack doesn’t wince, but it’s a near thing. He inclines his head, a small acknowledgement, then waits for Bucky to continue.

The only sound is Bucky’s metal fingers tapping lightly on the wall behind him, a strange mix of patterns. Jack picks out some morse code, American Sign Language, the tune of a couple of those old 40s songs Rogers used to hum unconsciously, and the rapid tap of Bucky’s trigger finger firing on reflex.

“What can I do for you?” Jack says finally, and Bucky’s gaze snaps up from where it had drifted to the floor, wide eyes blinking rapidly at Jack before his head ducks again, eyes fixed on his shoes.

“I… I just need…” Bucky starts, arms coming up to curl around himself. “I just want to…” He exhales shakily, forces himself to meet Jack’s eyes, if only for a few seconds. “Please don’t make me ask for it.”

Jack pushes his chair back from the table, suddenly grateful for the lack of restraints (he’d come voluntarily, so they hadn’t be necessary), and places his hand on his knee, palm out towards Bucky.

Bucky is across the room and on his knees nuzzling into Jack’s hand so fast that Jack can barely register the movement, and Jack lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, brings his other hand up to stroke through Bucky’s hair. Bucky whines softly, burying his face in Jack’s knee, and for a moment it almost feels like before, like nothing’s changed.

It takes a few minutes before Bucky raises his flesh hand, runs his fingertips across the ring on Jack’s hand. “He’s alive, you know,” Bucky says quietly. “Still in ICU, but alive.”

Jack nods. “Yeah, I know. Waited until I could confirm that before I came here. Had to know.”

There’s a long pause, and Jack almost misses Bucky’s words. “He scares me.”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.” “You don’t though. I trust you. You’re safe.”

Jack shakes his head. “I’m not. I hurt you too.”

Bucky makes a noise, shakes his head. “No. You helped me. You didn’t do what he did. It wasn’t the same.”

Jack grabs his chin, forces Bucky to meet his eyes, ignores the way Bucky gasps, eyes wide with fear. “It was the same. I enjoyed it. It doesn’t matter what I did after.”

Bucky swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “I love you.” His voice wavers, words barely above a whisper.

Jack smiles. It’s not right for him to say it back. He doesn’t care. “I love you too.”

The door bursts open, and they both look up to see Steve stomp into the room, Natasha slipping in beside him.

“Natasha has questions for you,” Steve says to Jack, staring right through him, “Buck, I need to talk to you.”

Bucky nods, metal arm tapping three times at the side of Jack’s leg, out of Steve’s sight. It’s an old code, one that Jack and Brock had taught to Bucky, to Winter, a simple message for when they couldn’t say it out loud around other people: ‘I love you.’ Jack gently scratches Bucky’s scalp three times, repeating the message back, and Bucky stands, follows Steve out of the room.

Natasha smiles at Jack, nothing friendly about it, as she settles into the chair across the table from him. “This won’t take long.”

Jack settles into his chair, ready for a long night.

[fucking-hydra]

Happy thought: Mpreg!dog!Winter resolutely refuses the temptation to jump up on the couch, no matter how often his new handlers test him, so Handler Steve joins Winter on the floor. No previous handler has done this, so there are no rules about it. When Handler Steve coaxes Winter onto his back, Winter complies, and Steve rubs his tummy. In the 3rd trimester, when Winter is uncomfortable all the time, Steve spends a lot of time on the floor, rubbing his aches away and telling Winter he loves him

ooooh yes!!!! god i love your thoughts and ideas so much 🥺🥺

Winter never complains. Good dogs don’t whine, complain, or beg, and Winter’s a good dog. He knows when to disobey an order, no matter how many times his new handler, Steve, pats the couch and asks him to come sit. He sits at Steve’s feet, nuzzles against Steve’s hand or knee, but never gets on the couch. He was well trained never to sit on furniture, and he doesn’t intend to break training now, not when he’s been given such nice carpet instead of cold concrete floor to rest on, when he’s been given a dog bed instead of a crate. He knows to take what’s given, nothing more.

Pains as the pup kicks and shifts inside him are nothing new, but the pup is getting bigger, stronger, and it hurts more when it kicks inside him, and he winces, but doesn’t whine. Good dogs don’t whine. He must tense though, or maybe it just shows on his face and his new handler is observant.

“Come up here, Buck, it’ll be more comfortable,” Steve urges, but Winter stays at his handler’s feet. No. He knows this is a test, that he’s being humiliated and tested because he’s shown weakness. That’s nothing new. That’s what happens with all of his handlers. They have to test him and his resolve to behave, to comply with orders.

Steve sliding off the couch behind him is new. The confused murmur of his handler’s teammates only adds to Winter’s confidence that this is unusual behavior for a handler. Steve gently taps Winter’s side, coaxing him to sit up so Steve can settle in, sliding Winter back into his lap. Steve rubs at his tummy, and Winter makes a soft noise, barely audible to a supersoldier and inaudible to anyone else, and Steve hums.

“Feel good?” He asks, and Winter hesitates slightly before nodding, wondering if Steve will stop because it feels good, or if Steve will punish him for hesitating to answer.

“Good,” Steve says instead, rubs and presses gently on Winter’s belly, and Winter leans back against him for a second before he realizes what he’s doing, immediately straightening again.

“Have him lay down on his back, it’ll help,” Clint says, and Steve looks up, gives him a quizzical look, Winter watching curiously as Clint shrugs.

“Knew some pregnant women at the apartment building I was in before I moved here. It helps, takes the strain off the shoulders and back.”

Natasha seconds the statement, so Steve moves back a little, tells Winter to lay down. Winter complies, trying to understand why his handler would work so hard to make him feel better. It takes a few moments of Steve rubbing at his belly and praising him to realize that it’s probably meant to help the pup, and that makes sense, that his handler would want the pup to be as healthy as possible. If Winter is calm, relaxed, and well taken care of, the pup will come out healthy and happy too, and be ready to be the next asset. Reassured of the purpose of all the kindness, Winter relaxes, lets himself enjoy this.

[fucking-hydra]

Hi! When you’re feeling better would you mind a Winter fic where he’s treated like a dog and licks Brock and jack when he’s happy. Kinda fluffy trash, if that makes sense :)

hello hello!! sorry for the long wait!! that makes sense! let’s see what we can do <3

“Hey Winter, fetch!” Brock steps through the front door and tosses something at him, and Winter sits up on his knees, catches it in his mouth and bites down, yipping when the object squeaks. His entire body wiggles with excitement, and his tail wags. Jack laughs from his place on the couch, smacking Winter’s ass over the plug, and Winter whines softly, drops the toy in Jack’s lap and licks his hand, whines again when Jack scratches gently behind Winter’s ears.

“Did you even look at what your master got you?” Jack asks, and Winter shakes his head, watches Jack hold the object up. it’s a small rubber disc, painted with a red and blue stripes and a star. Winter looks at the star curiously, then glances toward the star on his arm.

“That’s right, good boy,” Jack praises, ruffling Winter’s hair, and he barks, sits back to look at the toy expectantly.

Jack tosses it down the hall, but Winter stays facing Jack, well trained by now. A long pause, Winter wiggling with anticipation, before Jack finally gives in.

“Okay, fetch,” he says, and Winter bolts down the hall, brings the toy back just as Brock sits down beside Jack.

Winter jumps up, jerking his head to the side to toss the toy at Jack before plopping himself in Brock’s lap, licking Brock’s face.

“Gross,” Brock groans as Winter barks and yips at him, slobbering all over Brock’s cheek and ear. “How come he only does this to me? Why doesn’t he slobber on you?”

“Because he knows I’d beat him senseless if he did it to me,” Jack says calmly, and Winter whimpers softly, curls slightly closer to Brock.

“Point taken,” Brock concedes, pulling Winter back by the hair. “Win, if you can settle down for just a few minutes, I’ll give you a treat.”

Winter perks up at that and stops his attack on Brock’s face, slipping off the couch to lay with his head on Brock’s feet and his hip against Jack’s feet.

“Thank fuck,” Brock says, and Jack laughs.

“C’mon, let’s get the business talk out of the way so the pup can have his treats.”

Winter picks up the toy that Jack tosses back by his nose, careful not to squeak it too loud while his owners talk.

[fucking-hydra]

Are we being soft tonight? Can we see Steve help dog!Winter hold his baby for the first time?

that's such a soft idea holy shit, we can absolutely see that:

(TW: dehumanization (as expected), concerns regarding child/infant abuse, because I don’t know how to do anything by halves.)

“He doesn't even realize he's human, Steve, what if he tries to pick him up by the neck with his teeth, huh? What then?”

It’s the most distressed he's ever seen Tony, and it’s only Tony’s display of emotions that stops Steve from snapping.

“He’ll be fine, he takes anything I say as an order, I’ll just be sure to tell him not to hurt him and he’ll obey,” he says, tries to swallow the pain of the words.

Tony’s expression falters with a flash of guilt, but he responds anyway. “One of us should go with you. Just in case something goes wrong, so we can get George out of there.”

Steve nods. “You can come with, if something happens you can summon the suit, right?”

“Of course. Well, no time like the present, right? Let’s go show him his baby.” That’s all the warning Steve gets before Tony starts walking out of the room. He follows before Tony changes his mind.

Winter curls up in his bed, sighing softly. He hasn’t seen the pup in weeks, but he hopes its training is going well. He’s not sure what he’d do if the pup was misbehaved, what his handlers would think of the pup, and think of him for creating something so bad. He doesn’t stress too much; handler Steve will know what to do, seems like he’d have a firm enough hand if one of his dogs ever acted out. Winter can’t be certain though; his handler’s never had to fix any of his behaviors, so he doesn’t know what Steve’s method looks like.

He’s broken from his thoughts when there’s a gentle tap on the door frame, and Steve and Tony enter, Steve carrying a bundle of blankets.

“Hey Buck, we brought someone for you to meet,” Steve says gently, and Winter sits back on his heels, looks curiously at the blankets.

Tony stays closer to the door, but Steve crouches down beside Winter, pulling the blankets aside so he can see a tiny face, eyes closed in sleep, one paw gripping the blankets.

“His name’s George,” Steve says quietly, low enough that the pup won’t wake up, “but I figure you can rename him if you want.”

Winter shakes his head violently. He would never dream of going against his handler’s wishes for the pup. He eyes Tony by the door. Is Tony meant to be George’s handler, since Steve already has a dog?

“I thought you might like to hold him,” Steve says, and Winter nods, knows that maybe it’s selfish, but he wants to hold the pup at least once before Tony or Steve takes him away again.

He holds out his paws, and Steve places George carefully in his arms, watches as Winter draws the pup in close, supporting him with the metal arm as he runs the other paw as lightly as possible over the little one’s forehead. He leans down, and he hears a warning “Steve-” from Tony, but he ignores him, nudges George’s cheek gently with his nose, then sits back, holding the pup out for Steve to take.

Steve takes him back, a weak smile on his face. “We can bring him back any time you want, okay? He’s just still young, needs a lot of attention and care right now.”

Winter nods. All dog are most easily trained when they’re young.

“I love you Buck, okay? I’ll come back soon to bring you food.”

They leave, and Winter curls back up, smiling despite himself. The pup is doing well. He did well.

[fucking-hydra]

i’m too drained to function take some rambling whump thoughts instead

whumpee immediately taking a submissive position next to their caretaker, only to have the caretaker freak out about it, and the whumpee’s heart is shattered because they assumed that the caretaker would be their new owner and they’re terrified because before they submitted to whumper the whumper used to torture them, so being submissive means not being hurt

whumpee making themselves throw up after caretaker feeds them because they don’t want to gain weight because whumper always talked about how beautiful and thin the whumpee was (or complained and degraded whumpee for being fat)

whumpee who has become so accustomed to bland, tasteless food that food with any kind of seasoning makes them vomit/burns their mouth/throat

whumpee that begs to be hurt because they’ve become accustomed to associating pain with love

whumpee that hurts their caretaker during a nightmare and proceeds to have a full mental breakdown and won’t calm down until caretaker, after repeatedly trying to comfort whumpee, finally snaps and hurts them (and immediately regrets it, especially if whumpee thanks them)

whumpee that has been forced into hurting other people (as well as being hurt by the whumper) and now assumes that to love someone you have to hurt them/be hurt by them

whumpee that needs to be enclosed spaces to feel safe, and being in anything but a cage, a box, or a small corner with barriers around them sends them spiraling

whumpee that cries completely silently because noises were punished

whumpee that is no longer able to cry

[fucking-hydra]

cast your mutuals as marvel characters

honestly anon i’m not even sure who all my mutuals even are (the curse of using side blogs), but uhh here’s the few people i know for a fact i’m mutuals with:

@volchikosti: Clint Barton (but Matt Fraction’s 616 Clint specifically)

@hydras-white-wolf: Carol Danvers

@kingroux: Bruce Banner (probably a mix of 616 and MCU Bruce)

@crown-filth: Tony Stark

@namenlosngerminal: Peter Parker (Tom Holland’s, specifically)

@hydra-trash-gal: Scott Lang

@peterparkers7evilexes: Loki Laufeyson or Stephen Strange? but not Bendydouche Cucumbercrap’s version of Strange, we don’t respect that actor in this house

@black-polarf: Sam Wilson

@glittercrow3: Steve Rogers (CA:TWS Steve specifically)

(please don’t snipe me for the characters i picked i have No Idea what i’m doing Ever)

honestly because of how sideblogs work i don’t know really know who else i’m mutuals with, but to my followers: my main is tired-disabled-and-in-pain, if we’re mutuals please let me know!! come talk to me!! i love friends Please

and if we’re not mutuals but you wanna be, tell me!! again, i really want friends, please :”) i just only have like one (1) braincell and i only use it for infodumping about my hyperfixations/special interests

[fucking-hydra]

listen i have never proofread anything in my life it’s just like that