#rumlow x reader

[fluffyprettykitty]

Pursuit

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x agent female reader

Word Count: 850 words

Outline: The man chasing you is the one who 24 hours ago was softly rocking you in his arms.

Warnings: swearing, violence, manipulation, guns.

Author's Note: This is my entry for @nekoannie-chan's 1K Kitties Writing Challenge. I used the prompt' “Why not kill? Everyone has their issues.”. Annie you are such a sweet presence in this community, I love your writing and your love for Rumlow :) It's set during the second captain america during the scene where the shield building is collapsing.

Main Masterlist ・❥・Brock Rumlow Masterlist

"Fuck."

You curse out, kneeling down on the floor as you feel the strong hit from the bullet on your bulletproof jacket. Two hours ago SHIELD was the good organization you knew and worked for and pleaded your allegiance to. Now Captain America was speaking to the mic calling for help and that HYDRA had long taken over what you long knew as real. All these lies, this deceipt, all your sacrifices, it was all for nothing.

It made your heart cold but it beat faster than ever. You shut your eyes holding the gun back in your hands firmly and make your way down the hallway. You had to strike back. Against the one who has toyed with you most of all.

Brock Rumlow.

One of the most decorated, resilient, and expert agents of SHIELD, and of course he was with the bad guys. You should have known. You should have been smarter, you should have noticed something different. You were sleeping next to him for god's sake. Sharing dreams and breaths and half-eaten sandwiches on your way to work. He even invited you to move in with him and still, you hadn't noticed anything different than the life you were living.

A good devoted citizen is all he looked like to you and now there he was standing on the other side of that door, calling your name taunting you, and telling you to 'baby, please come on, hydra doesn't prisoners, you're practically one of us. You know you've always been.'

You were a woman of morals, you'd never betray yourself, your ethics, or your own country like that. He must have known. He should have known. Unless he truly thinks what he is doing is right.

Did he?

He pushes the door open and grabs you by the throat, you kick him repeatedly trying to overwhelm him, to get stronger than him. You were well trained but the problem is that he is the one who had trained you, he knew all of your tricks, all of your micro-movements and when he grabbed your hands pinning you against the wall, his hot breath inches away from your lips, all you wanted to do was plead with him.

'Why is he doing this, why wasn't shield enough for him, how could he have done this to you' but you keep silent, staring at each other, eyes gazing back at black eyes. He is waiting for you to speak first, so he can retire your words, you don't know what to say, but you know what to do.

You spit right in his mouth and use that one second it takes him to collect himself to escape, run faster than before and try to make it out of the fallen building. He comes after you warning you that you never get away, he'd never let you get away, not alive. And you know in your heart he means that. He wants you to be his side, no matter how twisted that might sound. Maybe there's an emotional connection there, maybe he truly loves you.

If he was capable of love.

You were a woman of morals. Flashbacks to your life growing up, attending the army, reading books, reciting hymns come to your head as you are running, his heavy boots continuing to chase you, the constant sound being the only one that keeps you from immersing yourself into the reverie.

You manage once again to put a door behind you and you both stop, heads pressed against the glass to take a couple of breaths and that's when you finally speak to him. Finally echoing all of your thoughts in just one short sentence.

"Why?" You spit out, firm on your tongue, no fear detected.

"Why HYDRA?" He asks you and you know, if anything he'd stop chasing you to have a philosophical conversation you knew that.

"Why be a killer?"

“Why not kill? Everyone has their issues.”

You shut your eyes, and you feel your bones aching. How different life feels right now, how words are echoing through your head, little things reminding you of a better yesterday.

"We are supposed to help people."

"We are trained assassins. C'mon, baby, use your brain. Or did you think all these people you've killed are inferior to you?"

"We do what we do to preserve the peace. To help others, to protect others." That's the truth. That's what you know. What you've always known.

"HYDRA can bring the peace you so much crave. It's all the same in the eyes of the victim. Expect they can no longer defend themselves."

"How long?"

"I've been part of this?"

"Yes."

"Before I was even born."

You stare at his black eyes and know in the next moment you have to make a decision. There is no escaping him, he would just send people after you, or them, now or ever. Either you jump off the building to your potential death or join him.

You blink, you've made your decision.

a/n: yes this is an open ending :) choose your own adventure!

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary!

[nekoannie-chan]

New Year’s stuck

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 511 words.

Summary: Will you and Brock be able to make it to New Year's dinner on time?

Warnings: Train stuck

A/N: This is my entry to @ghostofskywalker​ MXRFF’s Holiday Prompt Challenge with the prompt #31:

"New Year’s kiss."

@saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum  @hallecarey1   @nana1000night​ @talia-rumlow​ @mylifeispainandiloveit @writingshae @alexxavicry  @azulatodoryuga​

A snowstorm was falling in the city; you were amazed. That meant snowmen, snowball fights, and endless fun. Of course, Brock was not pleased; he appeared to despise the snow.

"Of course, the snow bothers me; I can't use my bike," Brock complained for the third time in the day.

"Come on, Brock, it's fun."

"No, it's not; I’m cold the whole day; I can't use my bike; the workouts are slower; the transport is slower," Brock kept complaining.

"You sound like Rogers' grandfather," you sneered.

"What?"

"What you heard," you said.

"I think someone will clear all the snow that accumulates in front of our house... alone," Brock said, using that tone of pretending to be furious, even if it wasn't true.

"Then you'll take care of today's dinner... alone," you challenged.

Before he could answer, Steve came in for Brock to sign the last mission report, and you took advantage of the meddling to leave.

Hours later, Brock looked for you; they still had to finish cooking New Year's dinner. When they looked around, they realized they couldn't leave on the bike because the roads were closed due to snow, and the only way out was through the subway.

Brock gave you that typical look of his with which he hinted at the classic "I told you."

"Don't you dare, we can still get home; we will take a train, and you will see that it will be a spectacular dinner."

"If we walk, we'll get there faster," Brock said.

"No, better as I say," you insisted as you pulled him toward the entrance of the station.

However, just halfway through their time trapped in the snow inside the subway car, Brock turned to see you with the faces of a few friends.

"Are you still happy with your snow?" he questioned.

"Oh, come on, Brock, it's a bit of snow; in no time the train will move forward and we'll get home," you replied while still smiling.

"I don't think we'll get there before our guests," Brock complained.

"Oh, well, I don't know what you're worried about; Jack has keys; they can come in."

"We will freeze to death."

"Don't be dramatic, they just have to remove some snow from the tracks and the train will move forward."

Mobile phone batteries were gone; they were still stranded on the train with no way to communicate.

"Well, it could be worse; we could be in the middle of a mission and everything is going wrong," you said abruptly, trying to lighten the mood as Brock looked at you with disdain.

Brock smiled triumphantly, possibly using another mode of transportation in the same way they would have arrived or been stuck anyway. He saw his watch; it was less than a minute before midnight; they were going to be very, very late for dinner.

He took you by the shoulders and kissed you. You were very surprised. Usually, Brock doesn't act that way; you are always the one who surprises him.

"Happy New Year, love," he said after kissing you.

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Summary: You're part of the Strike team and join Captain America as he tries to live his new life in the 21st century. [Reader is NOT Hydra]

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Rumlow being a dick. Mentions of death. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Happy New Year! This the first chapter in a new series I'm starting! I'm not sure how long it's gonna be yet, but I know it's gonna be longer than Broken. These series is about an alternate universe where the reader exists and lives through the events that happen in the MCU. A lot of the details will be changed to insert the reader, a lot of the lines said by other characters will be changed to be the reader's and I've also made up a lot of things and scenes and added them, trying my best not to change the official timeline and the main events. I hope you enjoy this and all chapters to come!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You heard the boss, newbie, text Romanoff and tell her to pick up Rogers.” Rumlow taps his knuckles twice on the table for emphasis before getting up and exiting the conference room.

You make sure he doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes at the now old nickname before writing ‘New mission, need you at the jet in one hour. Asshole wants you to pick up the old man in spandex’ on your phone and sending the message to Natasha, then you get up and make your way out of the room.

“Armory.” you say as you enter the elevator. 

“Confirmed.” the elevator voice says as the doors start closing. 

You suit up for the mission just assigned by Pierce and go to the jet to start doing the checkups you know the rest of the idiots on the STRIKE team won’t even think about doing. 

After making sure everything’s ready and in order, you can do nothing more than wait for everybody else.

Natasha and Steve get there exactly an hour after your text. 

“Right on time.” you point out.

“It wasn��t a coincidence, YLN.” Natasha smirks, making you laugh.

“Cap.” you greet him with a smile that he returns. “Y/N.”

The rest of the team meets you a few minutes after. “Ready for take off.” Rumlow says to the pilot and the jet takes off.

Once you get close to the target Rumlow starts briefing Steve and Nat. “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asks.

“A billion and a half.” Rumlow answers.

“Why so steep?” Steve questions frowning.

“Because it’s Shield’s.” you answer promptly, ignoring the scowl on Rumlow’s face that disappears almost immediately.

“So it’s not off-course,” Steve says, understanding flashing in his eyes as he glares at Natasha “it’s trespassing.”

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” Natasha offers.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”-Steve seems really annoyed now.

“Relax, it’s not that complicated.” Natasha simply says.

“How many pirates?” Steve’s attention is back on the screen.

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc.” Rumlow pulls up the photo of Batroc on the monitor and looks at you expectantly, making you roll your eyes.

Of course you’re the only one who actually looked through the files.

“Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. The guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.” you fill everybody in, although it was obvious most of the guys aren't listening. At least the Captain is.

“Hostages?” Steve questions you, but Rumlow cuts in.

“Mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” he shows his picture. You’ve seen Sitwell around headquarters, he seems pretty close with the STRIKE team. Not that you hang out much with them outside of mission, or at all for that matter. “They’re in the gallery.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asks more to himself, and he has a point. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Y/N, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pots, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

Yep, he’s definitely in Captain mode.

“Ay ay, Captain.” you salute with a smirk that mirrors Natasha’s while Steve gives you a fake annoyed look.

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow says but you’ve already started getting ready and stopped listening to him.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says into his wrist communicator.

“Seven secure.” Natasha replies. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really.” Steve answers, making both you and Natasha laugh while the pilot lets you know that the drop zone is coming up.

“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.” you point out, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha.

“That’s why I don’t ask.” he fires back

“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pushes.

“Too busy!” He yells over the wind as the door opens and then he jumps. 

You and Natasha both roll your eyes and look at each other smiling, not needing to talk to understand the other.

You barely register Rumlow and Rollins commenting on Steve jumping without a parachute before grabbing one for yourself and jumping alongside Nat.

You and Natasha have known each other for a while now, all the way back since she was first brought in by Clint.

You trained with both of them, went on countless missions together (yes, including Budapest) and you would’ve been right by their side in New York if you hadn't been on an important undercover mission and had strict orders directly from Fury not to blow your cover.

After that you got assigned to the STRIKE team by Alexander Pierce, though you still have no idea why. But orders are orders so you’ve been working with the idiots ever since.

But you and Natasha are thankfully still pretty close and your down time is spent mostly with her, sometimes also visiting Clint and his family at his farm.

 Nat’s still annoyed at Clint about naming his only daughter after you, middle name but still, and not her. But to be fair, you have known Clint longer, a fact that always amuses both you and Clint to bring up.

You’ve just landed when you hear Rumlow saying “you seemed pretty helpless without me” to Steve.

“What about the nurse who lives across the hall from you?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, she seems nice.” you add.

“Secure the engines, then find me a date.” Steve says in his captain voice.

“We’re multitasking.” Nat tells him before turning to you. “you take port, I’ll take starboard and we’ll meet at the rendezvous point”

“Copy.” you say and make your way to the engine room on the right side of the ship. You start taking down guys and can hear Rumlow saying they’re ready in position.

Just as you finish with the last guy you hear Steve calling your name. “What’s your status?”

“Port engine room secure.” you answer.

“Good, make your way to help Rumlow with the hostages.”

“Roger that.” you can almost hear him groan in annoyance as you smile while following his orders.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” you can hear her grunt while she fights through the comms. “Status, Natasha?” 

“Hang on!” She says as she keeps fighting. “Starboard engine room secure.”

You hear Steve countdown from three and then the team moving in on the targets, you get to the rendezvous point just in time to see Rumlow rounding the corner with the hostages on his tail.

“Hostages en route to extradition.” he says in his comms as you look around for Natasha.

“Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.” you let Steve know while helping take care of the hostages.

“Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Y/N and protect the hostages.” he receives no answer and at this point you get a little worried. “Natasha!”

You want to go looking for her but you know better than to leave your post, and you’re also very aware that Natasha can take care of herself. 

So you keep protecting the hostages while listening intently to the comms where you can hear Steve fight, then you hear a voice you assume it’s Batroc’s talking French and are even more surprised to hear Steve answer back in French. Impressive.

You can hear him fighting again and then you finally hear Natasha’s voice but don’t pay too much attention to the conversation, bringing your entire focus on the hostages now that you know she’s okay. 

You’re helping people into the life-pods when you hear an explosion go off somewhere on the boat. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you hear Natasha’s voice again and let it go, feeling even more relieved after hearing Steve too.

The ride back is very uncomfortable as you help Natasha with the minor injuries from the explosion, Steve refusing help and insisting that he’s fine, and in the mood he’s in you’re certainly not about to argue. 

As soon as the jet lands he stomps away angrily and you share a concerned look with Natasha, worried about what he’s gonna do next. 

You help Nat to the medbay and leave her there when she assures you she’s okay and to not make a fuss over her.

So you make your way to the usual conference room for debriefing but when you get there Rumlow very smugly assures you that you’re not needed at this meeting. 

You’re used to being left out of meetings with the STRIKE team and Pierce by now, since you’ve been forced to join you’ve been left out of more meetings that you’ve attended, but it still bothers you sometimes.

Still, at least you don’t have to spend too much time with those neanderthals. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

So you just make your way to the Armory to put away your gear and then the locker room to change and go home for what you think is gonna be the rest of the day.

-

A few hours later you find yourself in the hospital where the STRIKE team has been called in the middle of the night because, guess what? Someone tried to kill Director Fury. Or, as it turns out, succeeded. 

You’re behind Steve, Natasha and Hill alongside Rumlow and Sitwell, watching Fury flatlining and the doctors calling it.

You want to go with Nat to see Fury, be there for her knowing she cared about him as much as you do, but obviously Rumlow has to be a dick and order you to stay put. And, whether you like it or not, he’s your boss.

He rudely interrupts Nat and Steve’s conversation telling him they need him back at headquarters and you can already tell something’s suddenly off.

As much as Rumlow can be an asshole, he’s never been openly rude towards Steve.

You can hear Sitwell in your earpiece telling the team to bring Rogers in for questioning as he and Rumlow get closer.

“STRIKE, move it out.” he orders but you don't start moving until Steve’s by your side, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile. 

When you get to the Triskelion Steve is taken to Pierce’s office and you get ordered to go to Forensics and check into the evidence found on the roof, then go to Operations Control and wait for there for further instructions, so you do. 

When you get to the control room you see Sitwell concentrated on a particular screen so you get close trying not to get noticed and see Steve fighting STRIKE and SHIELD agents in the elevator. 

You barely have time to understand what’s happening before he’s throwing himself off the elevator and lands on his shield near the entrance of the building. Thankfully Sitwell’s “Are you kidding me?” covered your quiet “holy shit.”

You’re in the room when Sitwell gives the orders to track down Rogers to all the Agents and when he’s done, you discreetly follow him and the rest of the STRIKE team out the room.

For a bunch of guys who work for a top secret organization they sure suck at knowing when they’re being followed. 

No one talks until they get to a deserted corridor. “Pierce is going to kill us. Rogers has the flash drive and can use it to find Zola. You fucked up big time letting him go.” Sitwell sounds pissed.

“Take it easy, four eyes.” Rumlow sounds just as angry “You’re not the one that got punched by a supersoldier.”

They keep talking about the flash drive and Steve and Pierce and Zola. That name sounds familiar but you can’t remember for the life of you where you heard it from.

Then it hits you.

Zola was a former Hydra scientist from World War II, turned ally when the war ended. Thank god the Howling Commandos were hot so you actually paid attention during that particular history class. 

You're about to turn away so you won’t risk getting caught eavesdropping when you hear your name being mentioned.

“Someone should keep an eye on her.” Sitwell says, making you worried of becoming the next Shield target, but Rumlow proceeds to ease your worries.

“That’s a waste of manpower. The whole reason she’s even on our team was so we could keep a closer eye on Rogers, but she just spends all her time with Romanoff.” 

So that’s why Pierce assigned you to the STRIKE team.

Yeah, you’re closer to Steve than most people but it’s not like you’re best friends, you sometimes hang out outside of work but most of your interactions are mission related.

You decide you've heard enough to kind of put together what’s going on, but there’s not much you can do to help Steve yet, not knowing where he is. So you stick to following the STRIKE team, praying that your absence in the control room goes unnoticed. 

STRIKE gets a hit on Steve’s location and you follow them in your car to a mall but think better than to follow them in, waiting patiently outside. 

After a few minutes you see Steve and Natasha in their not so well thought out undercover outfits and, once again, the Captain surprises you by hot-wiring a car. 

You follow them, more discreetly this time, knowing Natasha and Steve would be better at realizing they’re being followed. 

You get to an old army camp in Wheaton, New Jersey and are about to follow them in and make yourself known to them, but before you can get out of your car you hear the plan the STRIKE team has through your comms.

The idiots never even thought about using a different channel. Of course Rumlow would underestimate you this much. 

So you decide to drive deeper into the trees surrounding the camp to make sure you’re not visible and wait, knowing Steve and Natasha will need a fast getaway. 

You can do nothing more than watch as a missile hits the bunker and the helicopters start coming. You want to go and help them, make sure they're okay, but you will yourself to stay put and not give away your position. 

When you can faintly see Steve’s figure, almost running with what looks like Nat in his arms, you finally turn the car on and drive coming to a stop right in front of him and startling him to a stop on his tracks.

“Get in.” you urge him, and he seems wary of you, rightly so. “Come on, Cap, they can’t know I’m here!”

He seems to decide to risk trusting you and delicately sets an unconscious Nat down in the back seat before getting in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as his door is closed you drive away as fast as you can, heading back to Washington and you can feel Steve’s eyes on you.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he finally says after a minute of silence, his eyes never leaving you. “You’re part of them, after all.”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but trust me I’m not one of them.” You glance at him and you can tell that he’s not convinced yet, so you go on. “I didn’t even know who ‘them’ were before today. Apparently the reason Pierce assigned me to the STRIKE team was in hopes to get closer to you. He overestimated how close we actually are. If Natasha was awake right now she would tell you how much I hate working with those assholes… You can trust me.”

You take a look at the rearview mirror and see Natasha, but her relaxed face does nothing to ease your worries. 

Steve seems to pick up on your concerns as his features soften and, ever the hopelessly optimistic, he chooses to believe you.

“Okay,” he says, “what do we do now?”

“We have to get you somewhere safe” you check your mirrors as much as you can, making sure you’re not being followed “I don’t know any safehouses outside of Shield's radar. We need a place we can go that they know nothing about.”

“I have an idea.” he says, you glance at him and see him already looking at you, so you nod.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 195 & 196

A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 35 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Morning Cravings - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ethereal Part 5 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Thoughts - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan

Revenge - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan

Late Night - (Andy x Reader) - @katherineswritingsblog

It Was Sunday - (Bucky x Reader) - @ellemj

Wrecked (Part 3) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim

Competition 2.0 - (Lloyd x Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Love and Flowers - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Ethereal Part 6 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Reconnect - We’ll Always Be Friends - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Switched Sides part 5 - @deliciousangelfestival

Flood - (Bucky x Reader x Steve) - @biteofcherry

Alone again - (Jack R) - @nekoannie-chan

Evermore: Prologue - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Evermore: Part. One - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Lost in the Dark (Part 2) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

Helicarrier - (Steve) - @nekoannie-chan

Your Mark On Me - Part 7 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Monkey See, Monkey Do - Chapter 15 - @spectre-posts @what-is-your-plan-today

Indecent Proposal (1) - (Stucky x Reader)- @holylulusworld

Promises To Keep - (Andy x Reader) - @americasass81

Winning - (Brock x Reader, Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Advantages - @nekoannie-chan

The Tarzan to my Jane - (Ari x Reader) - @nicoline1998enilocin

Release Me Pt. 4 - (Andy x Reader) - @labella420

Opportunity - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

In the Boss’s Grip - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Teased and Tied - (Bucky x Reader) - @rookthorne

Aftermath - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Two Bosses Part 11 - (Ransom x Reader) - @labella420

Wrecked (Part 4) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim

Just Like That - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Collared part 39 - @spnexploration

Collared part 40 - @spnexploration

[itwasthereaminuteago]

I come bearing slutty thoughts.

Imagine Rumlow coming home from a mission where he got hurt and in that moment, all he could think about is not returning to you.

And ehm... when he gets home, he shows you just how much he loves/needs you 😜

(I hope this won't get flagged 🤣)

Alrighty sweet stuff, it's finally here (so sorry about the wait)! Good god he's a beast isn't he? Happy Sunday to you I hope 😁

|| Kissed by Death ||

Brock Rumlow x female reader

Tags/warnings: just love and (unprotected but on BC) smutty appreciation.

He didn't call, didn't think to let you know he would be back today, tonight. His mind was solely on a single track, focused on his own one mission.

With the water running over your ears when you're washing your hair you don't hear him come in, only gasping as you suddenly feel hands on your waist and the press of his body against your back.

“Brock!” You turn in his arms, not only surprised to see him home but also still almost fully clothed under the spray of water. “You're back, I wasn't expecting-” your warm smile only lasts a moment as you take in the pained look on his face, excitement turning to concern. “Oh my god, what's wrong? Are you hurt?” You ask, scanning his form for anything obvious, your worry only increasing at his continued silence. “Brock, please tell me.”

Out in the field that day he'd almost fucked up. A literal gnats ball hair away from getting his head blown off because he had been too cocky, too sure of himself in a dangerous situation that the near brush with death had knocked sense back into him with the force of a blow from a sledgehammer. It was the sense that he might not be able to come back home to you again if he acted that way again. That vile feeling had twisted in his guts, gripped him hard and mercilessly, the singular thought that he could lose you driving him to you as fast as possible once the mission was over. No other members of his STRIKE team had witnessed what had happened and so didn't question him bursting straight out of the briefing room after giving the absolute bare minimum communication necessary. He felt like he'd taken you for granted up until now. Felt like a failure. He needed you now. Craved your grounding touch, the feel of your soft skin against him, your mouth on his to remind himself how lucky he was to still be alive.

He lifts a hand to your face, cupping the side of it as his bourbon-brown eyes rake slowly over your nakedness as if he's seeing you for the first time. You let out a muffled whimper as he leans in, kissing your lips with such fierce desperation that you're panting hard when he eventually lets you surface for air and guides you both out of the spray of water. You help him when he begins to strip, your fingers slipping over the buckles and snaps as you both work in-between breathless clashes of your mouths to rid him of his tactical gear that is eventually flung into a wet heap in the corner of the bathroom. He's sucking possessive marks into the skin of your neck up with you pinned against the wall as you palm his thick length through his sodden boxers, trying to tug them down at the same time as he's reaching between your thighs with eagerness making you moan at his sure touch.

You touch him too, your hands skimming over his wet skin feeling him flinch slightly as you explore and find the inevitable fresh bruises and cuts with dismay.

“Brock,” you gasp out as his lips cover your face with kisses and he carefully slides his fingers between your folds, gathering your slick arousal and dragging it up and over your sensitive bud. The words almost catch in your throat as you question him.

“Brock, talk to me! What happened? You're scaring me…please!” you grab hold of his wrist to stop him.

He’s gruff but quiet as he finally answers, eyes dark, almost black and you recognise the deep need in that gaze. “Sorry I scared ya baby, don't you worry. I just had to see you, couldn't wait.”

You nod and slowly release him, knowing that he'll tell you when he's ready, and instead of pushing any further you arch your body into him as he drops down to his knees propping your leg over his shoulder as he puts his mouth on you. Your fingers grasp to hold on to something, anything for balance as his tongue delves between your folds, lapping and licking, curling up inside to savour your sweet taste. He's never going to let you fall, supporting your ass with his big hands as you lose yourself in the feel of his mouth working you up and up, the sensation only made more intense by the shower steam slicking your bodies. Your head thunks back against the wall as Brock flicks the firm tip of his tongue over and around your throbbing clit taking you higher and closer to a crescendo, your thighs quivering around his face. He's looking up at when you open your eyes and look down at him, listening to your moans and whines and watching your mouth drop open when he pushes two fingers up inside your tight walls and fucks you with them.

“Baby you gotta come for me, please, please baby you're so fucking good to me… I wanna make you feel so good-” his mouth is back on you, thick fingers curling gently as he draws them back out of your cunt and then straight back in. Each thrust of them almost punches the air out of your lungs as he takes you right up to that sweet edge.

He groans loud with you against your core as you let go, feeling you squeezing and creaming around his fingers, licking it all up as you pant and shake with the intensity. When he carefully lets you down, you circle your arms around his neck, pulling him in and holding yourself up on wobbly legs at the same time as you taste yourself on his lips. He's still hard and heavy against your stomach, swearing under his breath as your fingers then wrap around his length and slowly start to move your hand up and down.

“Let me take care of you, now.” your soothing voice melts into his ears. But that's not how it's supposed to go. He's the one that's gotta show you what you mean to him, how you're the only damn thing on his fucked up brain when it comes down to the dirt and blood of it all. He stops you, scoops you up in his arms and out of the bathroom into the bedroom, fuck the fact you're both dripping wet he doesn't give a shit about the sheets all he cares about is you.

“You need to know,” Brock's tone is level and serious as he lays you down on the bed. “you got to know you're everything to me, yeah? Everything.”

You gently rake your hand through the top of his hair where it's longer, curling your hand around the back of his head and lightly scratching your nails at the shorter shaved parts. He's not yet admitted to you how he really feels, that he has this love for you, it's raw and new, but it's definitely real.

“I know, baby.” you assure him, pulling him closer. You're so sweet for him, better than he deserves as you lay back and guide him inside you.

“Brock-” the warmth of your breath brushes his neck and he dips his head down to kiss your shoulder, listening to the way your breathing hitches as he sheathes himself all the way to the hilt.

“Oh fuck doll, feels so-” Brock makes a sound you've never heard him make before, almost a whimper as you move your hips up to meet his slow thrust. You clasp your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him close to you as you move as one, your skin still damp from the shower. You hum in agreement, your parted lips slotting perfectly together, still tasting yourself on his tongue as it tangles lazily with your own.

The muscles of his arm are obvious as he holds most of his weight above you, his free hand caressing it's way up the side of your body, the rough pad of his thumb rolling over your peaked nipple. Your back arches and you hike your leg up higher and lock it around him as he keeps on rolling into you at a steady pace that's already got you well on your way to seeing fireworks. It's not a rare thing that he's so tender with you, far from it, but the Brock you see at work is the completely opposite side of the coin and every time you're together this way you can't help but feel special. He bares himself to you, makes you feel like a goddess, gives you more than you could ever ask for. And he feels exactly the same way. He must have had some dumb luck that you fell for him just as he did for you. He's always been seen as a bit of an asshole, most weren't quick to trust him, but not you. You trusted him with your life and that's why he was home this instant with you. You kept him on track, had seen something in him that must have been worth sticking around for, and he was intending on spending all the time he could making sure that was true.

“Thought I was a fucking goner today,” he grits out, “I was a fucking idiot.”

Your eyes snap back open at his confession, searching him for more.

“Brock, you're here, you're okay, that's all that matters.”

“But I need you doll, need to be with ya and that can't happen if I wind up dead.”

You grab his face in your hands, focusing his attention again. “Then don't die.” You tell him, giving him a smile before you kiss him deeply.

He shakes with a burst of laughter and then as you lean up and graze your teeth over his jaw hisses with pleasure. He grins, his hand cupping your jaw, watching as your eyes flutter closed when he fits his hand around your neck with a tiny amount of pressure, just the way you like it.

“Mm, that's my good girl.” Brock praises with a husky whisper, moving his hips faster now pushing a desperate mewl of his name from your lips. “So good for me, don't deserve you…”

You can feel your second orgasm building, moaning out as Brock shifts his hand down your body to reach between you and rub his slick fingers over your clit.

The sound of you purring his name under him and the telltale twitch of your thighs draws him right along with you, pulling his cock almost all the way out of your pussy before plunging back deep inside. As you start falling apart around him he snaps his hips faster, shallower until you're clenching and squeezing over and over and he gives you everything he's got, releasing inside your soft heat with a deep moan of your name.

You're both panting as he carefully withdraws and rolls to your side, and as you half drape yourself over his spent body, you can't help smiling as you peck his cheek, turning his face towards you and kissing him over and over.

“Thanks for coming back to me.”

He lets go of a relieved sigh, like the weight of his guilt has been lifted by you saying that.

“I'll keep comin’ back, baby. Don't you worry.”

[selcouthaesthetics]

You seemed pretty helpless without me

Frank Grillo as Brock Rumlow Crossbones

[e-dubbc11]

Hot neighbor Rumlow that you see in his yard like this one day. That's it. That's the ask 🥵💦

My lovely Lily,

You have so many great ideas roaming around inside that brain of yours and I love that you share those ideas with me and trust me to bring those ideas to life. So you wanted neighbor Rumlow? Here he is! I really hope you like it and thank you for always sending things/ideas to my inbox and for just being such a good friend ♥️♥️♥️

Hey, Neighbor

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: None, really. A couple of swear words, fluff, some smooches, mentions of infidelity and divorce.

Word Count: 3.7K-ish

Summary: You’re newly single and start looking at your neighbor differently.

A/N: I don’t really have much else to say that I didn’t say above. Brock is fun to write for and even though she hasn’t read it yet, Lily said she’s already game for a part 2 🤣 I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The early morning sun peeked through the very small opening in between your bedroom curtains. The warm rays beamed into your room, directly onto the foot of your bed where your dog, Beast, was sleeping peacefully.

It was Saturday and he seemed quite content that he also did not have to wake up early this morning however your internal clock never let you sleep in too much. Waking up with the sun was a lot better than being jolted awake by an alarm while it was still dark outside though so you reveled in the restful sleep you had last night.

You rolled over to look at your clock. It was 7:00 AM, birds were happily chirping outside your window, and you couldn’t wait to get up to do…nothing. It had been over a month since you had a free weekend and all you wanted to do today was relax, maybe start the new book you just bought, or just do whatever you felt like doing.

The house was quiet.

Since you finalized your divorce eight months ago, it had been very quiet but most of the time you didn’t mind. You thought maybe there was something wrong with you because you didn’t really have a problem being alone, sure there were times where you were lonely but you still didn’t mind being alone…maybe you actually preferred it.

You didn’t have any children so the divorce was quick and easy, he let you keep the house because he was moving in with his girlfriend, the one he was seeing while still married to you.

Yeah, that felt like a punch to the stomach. How could you not see it coming? Were you that blind? You thought you were happy together but it was all a lie, a lie that had dragged on for the past two years. It was humiliating and you felt like everyone knew he had been cheating on you except for you.

Even though they weren’t, you felt like everywhere you went people were looking at you, talking about you, and feeling sorry for you. But you were better off without him and you had everything you wanted right now.

You lived in a nice house, had a good job, friends, family, and your dog. What else did you need right now?

Coffee…coffee is what you needed.

“C’mon Beast…time to go outside, buddy. Let’s go.” You said, patting him on the head as he blinked his eyes and yawned, showing you all of his teeth.

After your divorce, you went to a local shelter because you wanted a dog for protection and companionship as you were now alone in your house.

When you walked in to where all of the kennels were, at first none of them felt like “the one” but as you moved toward the end of the rows of kennels, a young gray and white pitbull pushed his nose through the hole in the cage door and started wagging his tail, aggressively. Whimpering, he licked your fingers when you held them up to the kennel, he was such a sweet boy.

“What’s his story?” You had asked the employee.

“Not much to tell really, this guy has had a couple of homes but each owner said they didn’t really have the space for bigger dog like him and couldn’t give him the attention he needs.” They replied.

You had a decent size home and nice big yard for him to run around in so the decision was made that he was coming home with you and Beast smiled for the entire ride to his new home.

He did his little happy dance with his front paws before you opened the door and as soon as you opened it, he took off running for the very back of the yard where he did his business. As he sprinted back toward you, he stopped quickly in the middle of the yard to bring you his ball that he loved for you to throw for him.

The air was still slightly chilly as it brushed against your exposed skin. Your sleep clothes left little to the imagination, maybe you were still not fully awake yet, but you looked down and realized you were out in the middle of the yard in a thin strap tank top and shorts, with no bra on which of course is when your neighbor stepped outside to get onto his motorcycle.

You didn’t know what he did for a living but he was always out until crazy hours of the night or going in on weekends. You didn’t think he was a doctor; his wardrobe didn’t exactly scream “healthcare professional” but anything is possible. Dressed in all black wearing combat boots, he walked out of his side door with a scowl on his face and a furrowed brow.

His side door faced your yard and he actually did a double take when he saw you standing in the yard, half naked, playing with Beast so you gave him a little wave and a slight smile. He seemed a little flustered and quickly waved back but in an awkward manner.

His name was Brock Rumlow and had just come home from work the day you were moving into your house so he introduced himself to you and your then husband.

At the time, you didn’t really pay that much attention to what he looked like but now that you were single, you had noticed that Brock was quite handsome in a grouchy, angry sort of way.

Brock had dark brown hair, days old stubble on his face, and his eyes were a warm golden brown like the color of amber or whiskey. It was one of the first things you noticed about him when he introduced himself.

But you’ve had little interaction since besides the occasional “good morning” or a wave here and there. You felt yourself staring as he climbed on his bike and sped off down the street. You probably wouldn’t see him again today.

“Beast! Inside, now. Go on, time for your breakfast.” You said, holding the door open for him.

The temperature outside warmed up nicely since this morning and after cleaning for a little while, you decided you were finished with that for the day and were ready to relax with your book and a cup of tea. Part of the reason you bought your house was because it had a reading nook. You had always wanted one and you finally had one, it was your favorite place in the house.

With Beast asleep on the floor next to you and your tea resting on a little table behind your head, you were fully immersed in your book. Since it was such a nice day outside, you had opened the windows to get some fresh air and the curtains swayed as the cool breeze blew in through the screens.

You were so lost in the story, you almost didn’t hear Brock’s motorcycle pull back into his driveway. That’s strange. Usually when he left for the day, he was gone until sometime in the evening but you didn’t think much of it and went back to your book.

The reading nook faced Brock’s house and at one point you looked up from your book to rest your eyes and look out the window. To your surprise, when you looked up, Brock was standing in his driveway…and he was shirtless.

“Holy fuck.” You said out loud.

Oh shit…hopefully he didn’t hear you.

He was quite the specimen, warm tan skin, tight arm muscles and abs you could wash clothes on. How have you not seen this before? It couldn’t be the first time he’s been outside without a shirt but then again, he usually isn’t home during the daylight hours where you could see him clearly.

Beast picked his head up off of the floor as the words escaped your lips and he cocked his head to one side as he looked at you.

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” You said narrowing your eyes at him. “I didn’t know he was hiding that body underneath his clothes. How could I?”

You felt a little crazy talking to your dog like he was a person.

It looked like Brock was doing some stretching. Biting down on your thumb, you continued to stare out the window, hoping he was too far away for him to notice you gawking at him. With your thighs clenched together, you inched closer to the glass but you weren’t paying attention to how close to the glass you were.

Your forehead hit the glass with a slight “thud;” Brock looked up from his stretches and looked in your direction, thankfully you were quick enough to duck away from the window.

The pillow cradled your head as warmth rose to your cheeks and you watched as your book, resting on your chest, rose and fell with your nervous inhales and exhales. Beast had started to bark when he heard the thud against the glass. You tried to get him to stop by whisper yelling at him.

“Hey! Ssshhh, stop it! It’s just me!” You said.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, you saw Brock had gone back to his stretching. It looked like he was getting ready to go for a run. Beast finally stopped barking and Brock took off down the driveway.

You watched him until he was out of sight; finally, you could breathe easy but now you were wondering if he had noticed you watching him. You didn’t think so but it was still a possibility especially after the dog started to bark.

Maybe you were done reading for now.

**********

Since you had the entire day to yourself, you had the time to make your grandmother’s spaghetti sauce. You were the only one she trusted the recipe with and each time you made it, you reminisced about all the times you helped her make that sauce.

It would cook on the stove all day and your reward for helping her was she would give you a small bowl filled with sauce and a couple pieces of Italian bread for you to dip with. You would always get to have some before anyone else did, it was one of your favorite memories of her.

To get even more fresh air inside the house, you had opened the front door and kept the screen door shut plus Beast loved to sit in front of the door and watch people and cars go by.

While stirring the sauce, your back was toward the front door when Beast started to whine and scratch at the door. You figured he just saw another dog walk by; he loved to say hi to every person or animal that walked by the house.

He barked then scratched at the door so hard that he nudged it open and ran outside. You turned to see the screen door ajar and swaying back and forth.

“Shit! Beast! No!!” You shouted after him.

After you ran outside and down the driveway, you looked around for him and finally found him licking Brock’s face just past your mailbox.

“Oh my god, Brock I am so sorry! He just pushed the door open and ran out before I could stop him.” You said apologetically.

Brock was kneeling down next to Beast, gently patting his head.

“Oh that’s alright, doll. He’s a good boy, he just wanted to say hello. Didn’t ya boy?”

The smile on Brock’s face was probably the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen on him which made you smile.

“Well thank you for catching him for me.” You said.

You then did something very out of character. You had always been very shy and quiet but you liked Brock and you definitely couldn’t eat that sauce all by yourself. So even though it made you feel nauseous, you decided to ask him anyway.

“B-brock? W-would you like to come over for dinner tonight? I, well I made my grandmother’s spaghetti sauce and I forgot that it’s enough to feed a small army.” You said, struggling to get the words out.

He looked shocked and didn’t really know what to say, like it was the first time he’s ever been invited to dinner.

“Oh…thank you y/n, but I’m all sweaty from my run just now.” He said, politely.

You noticed the sweat glistening off his body and on his forehead. It was hard not to notice. He really was extremely handsome, especially when he smiled.

“Well you have plenty of time to shower and change. I’m not quite finished cooking yet.” You said.

Brock looked a little uneasy, almost like he didn’t want to hurt your feelings by telling you no. You finally felt ready enough to talk to another man in a way that’s not platonic and you were terrified that he was going to say no. And then to think you would be reminded of that rejection every time you saw him after that.

Glancing down at the ground, you thought maybe it would be easier if you didn’t look at him. Maybe you could keep the tears from stinging the back of your eyes but he surprised you with his answer.

“Well in that case, I’d love to, doll.” He said softly.

Butterflies formed in your stomach and the words that fell from your lips were a little shaky but you managed to get them out without stumbling too much.

“O-ok. Great! I’ll see you in about an hour then.” You said. “Come on, Beast. Let’s go, ya troublemaker.”

**********

Not wanting to look like you were trying too hard but still wanting to look put together, you put on a pair of jeans and changed from a white t-shirt to a black one in case the clumsy version of you decided to show up and get marinara sauce all over yourself. You kept the minimal makeup look you had on from earlier in the day and kept your hair back.

Brock knocked on your door exactly an hour later, Beast helped you greet him at the door by barking and wagging his tail. Brock had brought over a bottle of wine which was very sweet of him.

“Hi Brock…Beast, get down! I’m so sorry…oh, thank you for the wine. That’s very nice of you…BEAST, get down! I know you’re excited that someone else is in the house.” You said.

A slight smiled stretched across his lips as he looked at you with his honey colored eyes.

“I had a grandma once too…she taught me never to show up any place empty handed. I woulda got ya some flowers too but I only had an hour.” He said with a wink.

Brock was dressed almost exactly like you were. Black shirt and jeans but he was wearing black boots; he looked incredibly handsome.

He took one look at the dining room table and admitted to feeling a little underdressed. You had set the table nicely with placemats, cloth napkins, and candles. You didn’t think it was overly romantic but maybe he did and you were afraid you might scare him away but it didn’t.

“Do you need help with anything?” He asked.

You were caught completely off guard by that question. Your ex-husband didn’t help much with the cooking or anything, really.

“Oh! Thank you, I think I’m all set though. Actually, you can open the wine…let me just find the corkscrew.” You said.

**********

Surprisingly, Brock was very easy to talk to. The wine probably helped a little but you had a feeling that maybe he wasn’t as angry as he appeared to be sometimes. Eyebrows pulled together in a straight line, lips pressed together, the gruff raspy tone to his voice when he said “good morning…” maybe he just didn’t want people to know that he’s actually kind of sweet and soft.

“I’ll admit, I was a little surprised when I saw your ex movin’ out. I thought you two had a decent marriage.” Said Brock.

With raised eyebrows, you said, “Yeah well, I wasn’t having sex nearly as often as he was sooooooo.”

Brock looked surprised as you confessed your ex had cheated on you.

“Wait…he cheated on you?” He asked.

“Brock, I feel like everyone else knew except me, like everyone on the street was looking at me differently. I felt really ashamed.” You said with a hitch in your voice as you looked away from him.

Tears welled up in your eyes quicker than you anticipated and before you could prevent one from streaking down your cheek. It was slightly embarrassing because you didn’t know your neighbor all that well and now you were crying in front of him.

“Hey, hey y/n…it’s ok.” He said softly as he gently brushed the top of your hand with his calloused fingers. The rasp in his voice was so sexy. “If it makes you feel any better, I had no idea and I doubt anyone else knew either. Plus…just…well, fuck that guy.”

You weren’t expecting him to say that; it caught you off guard and you let out a little laugh.

“Ya know what? You’re right…fuck that guy!” You exclaimed with a wide smile.

The two of you finished the bottle of wine and Brock insisted on doing the dishes, he actually looked cute with the dish towel draped over his shoulder which, you couldn’t help but notice, was filling out that part of his shirt nicely. Was it the wine that was making you warm or was it him?

You continued to talk for a while longer before Brock got up to leave. You really didn’t want him to go though.

“In my line of work, they don’t really care that it’s Sunday. I have to get up early tomorrow.” He said.

Nodding your head, you replied. “Oh of course. I understand.”

You followed him over to the front door, he turned to face you, and said, “Thank you for this, y/n. It was really nice, haven’t had a home cooked meal in awhile so thank you again.”

Your bodies were close, sharing the same air and you could smell the wine on his lips as he spoke.

“You’re very welcome, Brock. I’m sure I’ll still be eating that sauce for days but thank you for trying to help me make a dent in it.” You said, nervously.

Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it was going to burst out of your chest. You knew your skin would be warm to the touch as your heart beat faster and faster.

“Well…goodnight y/n.” He whispered.

His warm breath brushed against your ear, the air between you felt thick, like you could cut it with a knife and you wanted him to kiss you so badly.

You replied. “Goodnight.”

He walked out and turned back once more to wave and smile at you.

Before you closed the door, Beast whimpered while staring out at the street. He was probably wondering where Brock went.

“He went home, buddy. He doesn’t live here, ya know.” You told him with a slight smile but in a disappointing tone.

As you closed the door, Beast whined again and you whispered, “I know, I wanted him to kiss me too.”

After your shower, you decided to read a little more. The lights in the house were dimmed, the only bright light in the room was your book light and you had only been reading for about 20 minutes when Beast let out a low growl. You looked down at him, his tail started to swish back and forth then started to whine.

“Ya know for a big bad pitbull, you whine a lot like a little baby. What is it?” You asked.

Immediately after you asked that question, there were three loud raps against your front door. Confused, you put your book down, threw the blanket off of your legs, and walked over to the front door. Beast followed you, wagging his tail.

Brock was leaning against the screen when you opened the front door.

“Hey doll, I uh…well, I forgot something.” He said, opening the screen and stepping inside.

You looked up at him, then looked back over at the dining room chair, still a little confused.

“Oh…I don’t remember you bringing a jack—“ You tried to say before he cut you off.

Brock’s lips collided with yours, as he closed the door behind him. Suddenly your back was against the wall, running your fingers through his thick brown hair, while your lips parted, giving his tongue access to your mouth.

He was a really good kisser.

Brock’s chest was pressed firmly against yours, so you were pinned in between him and the wall. He was so strong but it felt amazing to have your body pressed against his. He nipped at your jawline and peppered kisses up and down your neck while soft moans escaped your lips.

Beast stood on his hind legs and lunged toward you and Brock like he was missing out on something. He was whining.

Breathing heavily, you pulled away and smiled at Brock. Your cheeks were warm and you could feel how red they were.

“I think someone else wants a kiss.” You said. “Careful, he has a fast tongue.”

Brock bent down so he was level with Beast and he glanced up at you. “Yeah, he ain’t the only one.” He said with a wink.

You covered your eyes in embarrassment.

After giving Beast gentle pats to his head, Brock stood up and closed the gap between your bodies. He cupped your cheeks, leaned in, and kissed you again. These were gentle kisses, soft and sweet and his stubble lightly brushed against your skin.

It had been awhile since your lips had touched someone else’s, his kisses sent shivers down your spine and gave you butterflies in your stomach. These were feelings you haven’t had in a long time; you were nervous but willing to give it all another chance.

“Dinner at my place next time, doll?” He asked.

A sly smile stretched across your lips as you purred into his ear.

“Only if we can have dessert first…neighbor.”

Others that might enjoy: @munsonownsmyass @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @k-marzolf @redstarsandnightmares @nutmeg17 @gijos @randomlittleimp @nekoannie-chan

If I tagged you and you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again. As always, thank you again for reading!

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

The Color of Blood [2]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: angst, canon level violence, cursing, oh did I mention angst?

Word Count: 3,372

Summary: In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

There were some people out in this wild, wild world who didn’t know what it was like to slowly wake up with a concussion, in an unknown room, surrounded by people who meant you harm. Unfortunately, you were not one of those people. Double unfortunately, you were finding yourself in that position again.

You blinked your blurry eyes a few times, trying to make the world stop spinning, and when things finally did become clear it took you a second to remember what had happened. Not the being attacked on a bridge thing. The suddenly being able to see color thing. You couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of shock. The room around you was so vibrant and sharp. It made you wish you had the time to fully absorb this new view of the world.

You didn’t though because suddenly you were being hit in the face again.

With a hiss of pain, your head snapped to the side and before you could do anything someone roughly grabbed the front of your shirt and yanked you off the ground into a seated position.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Rumlow grinned at you.

“Being stuck staring at your ugly mug,” You spat at him, “I kind of wish I was back in the world of the dead.”

The traitorous agent chuckled, “Oh, don’t say that. I thought we were friends, Agent.”

“That was before I found out you were HYDRA scum.” This time you literally spat at him.

Rumlow threw you aside with a growl as he swiped at his face. You threw your foot forward to kick out his knee. He crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain and you got up to run past him, but his rough hand wrapped around your ankle causing you to hit the floor again.

Your already concussed brain groaned at the impact, but you didn’t stop swinging. You kicked your leg out, trying to make contact with Rumlow’s stupid face, but he army crawled across the ground until he was lying on top of you. His hands pinned down your wrists as he sat on your hips.

Rumlow gave you a sickening smile, “No need to play rough.”

“Fuck,” You spoke between clenched teeth, “You.”

“You wanna know what I just got back from?” Rumlow replied.

“Therapy?”

Rumlow’s hands tightened around your wrists, “I was out burying your little friends.” You felt your entire body tense as your jaw clenched down. “Don’t worry. I remember exactly where we put ‘em. Just in case you wanna visit their unmarked graves one day. That is if we don’t put you beside them.”

“God, you just talk way too much.” You growled. There was no part of you that thought Brock Rumlow of all people had finally brought your friends down. Maybe it was blind faith, but you were sticking by it.

The sound of a door opening made Rumlow push up off of you, but you held back on going onto the offense. The door had swung open because a whole new squad of HYDRA goons had strolled in. At the head of the pack was Alexander Pierce. Somehow seeing him in color made you hate him all the more.

Pierce called out your full name then hummed with a polite smile. As if he was casually running into you at SHIELD headquarters rather than looming over you as the hidden HYDRA thug in charge. “I am so happy to see you here.”

You shakily got to your feet, in a defensive position, “You come a step closer, and I will kill you.”

“There’s no need for that.” Pierce clicked his tongue in disappointment.

Alexander Pierce had been your hero. You hadn’t worked with him personally in quite some time, but he was the one to recommend your recruitment to SHIELD in the first place. Where the world saw anger, chaos, and delinquency, he saw potential. He got you into the field agent academy and put you on the path to who you were today. Nick Fury’s pride and joy was Natasha Romanoff. You were Alexander Pierce’s.

He stopped a few steps in front of you and the only thing holding you back from clawing his face off were the agents right behind him with guns. Pierce stuck his hands into his suit pockets, “I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m not sure why the asset brought you here, but I couldn’t be happier. You belong here. With us.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, but you do.” Pierce smirked. “Why do you think I recruited you in the first place? I saw exactly what you could be from the start. You can do the world a lot more good from this side than the one you’re on.”

You scoffed, “Says the man who’s planning on slaughtering a few billion people.”

“Necessary sacrifices.” Pierce shook his head in disappointment. “Sometimes if you want to change the world you have to get your hands dirty. I taught you better than to think so small.”

“You didn’t teach me shit.” You snapped. “Your name might be on my entry paperwork, but I am not your puppet, and I never will be.”

Pierce sighed and you watched him move his jaw to the right and left as he thought. You recognized the look of irritation he wore. He nodded once and Rumlow was on you again. The agent grabbed you by the back of the neck and shoved the end of his handgun to your temple. The older man stepped closer again so he was right in your personal space, “Why did the asset bring you here?”

“He’s your asset. You tell me.” You replied with a raised eyebrow. Telling him the truth about your apparent soulmate seemed like a very bad idea. Pierce must have recognized the determination in your eyes. He clenched his jaw and walked toward the open door to the left, opposite from the one he came into. Pierce made a motion with his hand and Rumlow dragged you after him. The next room looked like it used to be the back of a bank. The walls were covered in small, locked vaults. In the center of the room though was a strange set up. A chair surrounded by technology. In said chair though, was your soulmate. The Winter Soldier. Men in lab coats fluttered around him, but you couldn’t look away from the man in the chair.

The Winter Soldier was shirtless and slumped over with a look of confusion and fear on his features. It didn’t suit the mental image you had constructed of who this man was. His eyes were blue. That stood out to you. Red and blue were the only two real colors you were able to recognize and name at this point. The Winter Soldier’s blue eyes were mixed with some form of gray making them look stormy. It was hypnotizing, but the pain in them was distracting. Your eyes slid away from his eyes to where the metal arm was hooked to his body. Ugly, red scars decorated his shoulder where metal met flesh. It looked painful.

“Sir, he’s unstable.” One of the men working on the computers said, “Erratic.”

It was only then that you started to connect dots. They called this man an asset, yet he was seated in some sort of contraption, confused and lost, while his fellow agents had him surrounded at gunpoint? That seemed less asset and more prisoner to you. It also bothered you that you recognized his face still. It was familiar, at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Mission report.” Pierce said. The Winter Soldier stared ahead at nothing. As if he were in a daze. “Mission report now.”

Pierce slid his glasses off, sliding them into his coat pocket, then he stepped forward to stand in front of the Soldier. He bent down just a bit and after a beat of silence the older man backhanded the Winter Soldier across the face. You physically flinched at the motion as your heart raced in your chest. You weren’t sure if your reaction was from watching your supposed soulmate get so casually slapped or from the gnawing fear in your stomach that something was very wrong here. This entire situation wasn’t what you originally thought it to be. The Winter Soldier looked back to Pierce, more life in his eyes, “The man on the bridge. Who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment.” Pierce replied.

The Winter Soldier’s voice was softer than you thought possible, “I knew him.”

Pierce rolled a stool over and sat down, “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century…”

The traitorous old bastard continued to talk, but you stared at the Winter Soldier’s face. Steve had frozen in shock. The Soldier knew him. Finally, it dawned on you. The realization felt like a sucker punch to your chest, all the air seemed to be knocked out of you. Of course, you recognized his damn face. You had just been at the ‘Captain America and the Howling Commandos’ exhibit with Steve just earlier this week.

“You’re Bucky Barnes.” You cried out in shock.

The Winter Soldier—no, Bucky’s eyes snapped to meet yours as if he was just realizing you were in this room too. Pierce barked out a curse to you, but Rumlow was the one to punish. The man slammed the butt of his handgun into the side of your face and threw you to the ground. His boot kicked your gut before you could even focus on the throbbing of your face. The blow to your temple left your ears ringing again as you tried to focus, and the next sound that came to you was yelling. You glanced up to see that Bucky had lunged across the room to you and he now held Rumlow by the man’s neck as he crushed him into the wall.

Rumlow was gasping for breath, clawing at the metal hand crushing his windpipe, while Pierce screamed at all the soldiers to not shoot. Nothing the old man or the scientists said made your soulmate stop. Rumlow’s face was turning blue and his desperate movements were slowing.

Pierce held a gun to your face, “Say his name now. Get him to stop.” You glared back at Pierce, lips pressed tightly together. He could shoot you if you wanted. You’d die happy with your last sight being Rumlow suffocating to death. Pierce locked his jaw then turned to hold the gun to the back of Bucky’s head. Your eyes widened. “Now, Agent!”

You had no other options. You were backed into a metaphorical corner.

“Bucky!” You called out.

Steve’s old friend released his grip on Rumlow. The agent fell to his knees gasping for breath while Bucky backpedaled in shock. You didn’t know what they did to the poor man, but he looked so lost. It was like every other moment he was trying to grasp where or who he was. Other agents grabbed him, and he didn’t fight back as they dragged him back to the chair. Before he could sit back up, they clamped metal rungs over his arms to lock him in.

“What the fuck was that!?” Pierce roared at you. He reached down and yanked you up in anger, “Why the hell did he bring you here with him!?” Pierce just stared you down and you tried to keep your face as blank as possible, but you could see the gears turning in his head. His eyes widened after a moment and you prayed it wasn’t for the reason you thought it was. Pierce nodded once and walked over to Bucky. He pointed the gun at him again, “What color are his eyes?”

You shook your head, “How am I supposed to know that?”

“Tell me the color of his fucking eyes.”

“I don’t know!” You yelled. Pierce wouldn’t shoot his asset, right?

Pierce lowered his weapon and you held back a breath of relief. Instead, the man motioned to one of the agents, “Start cutting off fingers on his right hand.”

Your eyes blew wide in panic, more than a trained agents’ probably should, but it was a scientist that spoke up, “Sir—!”

“He can still complete mission a few fingers short!” Pierce barked.

An agent walked over and pulled a knife from his belt. You tried to hold back, but the moment the agent’s knife pressed against Bucky’s skin you blurted the word out, “Blue!” Pierce gave you a sinister smile and you your entire chest ache. “He has blue eyes. Please don’t— Pierce, please.”

“Soulmates.” Pierce nodded with a chuckle. “Wow. Who would’ve guessed it? Your fated soulmate is a man who should’ve died 70 years ago. Huh.”

“What did you do to him?” You seethed.

“We made him the perfect weapon.” Pierce shrugged. He sat back down onto his stool. “The real question is… now what?”

“Sir.” The head scientist, you assumed since he had spoken the most, stepped forward with a gleam in his eyes, “I think we can use this to our advantage. We’ve been running into roadblocks with the asset. The longer he’s out of cryo, the harder it is to control him, but with his soulmate here…”

You clenched your hands into fists. Absolutely not. You’d die before being used as a part of this man’s torture. Your soulmate’s torture. Your thoughts were interrupted when an arm suddenly wrapped around your throat and lifted your feet off the ground. You clawed at the arm, knowing it was Rumlow behind you based on his angry growls in your ear, and tried to kick back at him futilely.

Bucky strained against the locks around his arms, his blue eyes burning with rage, and the scientist motioned to him, “See!”

“Rumlow.” Pierce said, but the man’s arm tightened around your throat. “Rumlow!”

Finally, you were released and when he dropped you, you stumbled to your knees gasping for air. You forced yourself to look up and your eyes met Bucky’s again. The rage had simmered into misery. You weren’t sure how present he was, how aware of the situation around him, but the sadness in his eyes was dreadful. Bucky was broad and large, significantly larger than you, but he looked so small in that chair. You had never felt such a strong urge to pull someone into your arms and whisper comforts to them. This wasn’t a man you knew. Not really. No more than the facts Steve told you or the fact that he was your soulmate, but you ached to bring him relief.

“Prep him.” Pierce commanded.

The scientist shook his head, “He’s been out of cryo freeze too long.”

“Then wipe him and start over.” Pierce replied and you watched as Bucky’s face crumpled in a mix of defeat and pain.

“Please, sir, I’m telling you.” The scientist tried to argue. “We use his soulmate to our advantage. His mission isn’t a success? Then she’s punished as well. The mission goes perfectly? He’s rewarded with time with her.”

You shot a glare to the scientist talking with his stupid bow tie. If you survived this, if you got the chance, you were gonna beat the shit out of him right after you dealt with Rumlow and Pierce.

As you mentally planned his fate, Pierce walked back over to you and reached his hand out. You refused to flinch as he let his hands trace the side of your face. He shook his head, “A stick always works better than a carrot. Wipe him now.” His lips curled up into a cruel smile. “And you, Agent, I want you to watch. You only just met, but I hear soulmates can bond extraordinarily fast.”

He gripped your chin tightly and snapped your head to watch as the scientists began to move about. The one with a bowtie grabbed a black mouth guard and brought it over to Bucky. Your soulmate’s jaw clenched briefly, eyes flared in determination, as he opened his mouth and let the scientist place the mouth guard in. They pressed a button, the seat lowered just a hair, and the large, metal circle behind him began to spin downward. Bucky’s chest was heaving with each breath.

You struggled against Pierce’s hand, “No. Don’t!” The arms of the circle stretched out as electricity bounced from site to site on the inner surface of the arms. The inner surfaces closed in to cover portions of Bucky’s face. You tried to tear yourself away, but your body was too weak to get the momentum it needed, “Stop it!”

The metal plates clamped down on Bucky’s face and you could briefly hear the humming of electricity. That sound was immediately washed out by the sickening screams coming from your soulmate. It was gut wrenching. Watching a man be tortured was rough, you had dealt with that before on a mission gone bad, but this was different. This was in a league of its own. You felt hot tears roll down your face as you clenched your eyes shut. That did nothing to drown out Bucky’s screams though. For the remainder of your life, however long that might end up being, you’d never be able to forget that sound. You’d never forget the absolute pain and agony and despair in every single scream that filled the air and cut through you like a hot knife.

And it just kept going and going and going.

It felt like a million years had come and gone.

Pierce let go of your face and you collapsed to your hands and knees. The scene had ended. Whatever it was they did to him had ended, but the screaming hadn’t. You could still hear it echoing in your head. Bouncing around your skull. Pierce knelt down beside you with a hum, “This is your last chance. Reach your full potential. Come with me. Help me change the world.”

You forced your head up so you could glare at the old man kneeling beside you. Never had you hated someone as much as you hated this man. Your training told you what you needed to do. Play the game. Tell Pierce what he wanted to hear. Go along with him until you found your moment to end him. You knew that. You knew that, but God, all you felt right now was rage. Your blood boiled under your skin. Your fury wouldn’t let you play this smart. You couldn’t even pretend to appease this man.

Regardless of what the consequence would be, you lunged forward and clawed at his face. Your nails caught his skin and dragged down enough to leave three long scratches down the side of his right face. Pierce howled in pain and then kicked you in the face. You went sprawling onto your back, blood pouring from your now broken nose.

“Such a waste.” Pierce spat at you. You groaned in pain and sat up just enough to watch as Bucky was released from his chair. The old man used his pocket square to blot at the bleeding scratches on his face. “Soldier?”

“Ready to comply.” Bucky said in an emotionless voice. It wasn’t Bucky anymore. It was the Winter Soldier again.

“You will kill Captain America. You will not let him reroute the helicarriers.” Pierce said gruffly. He glanced over at me and threw his bloody pocket square at me, “But you can start by killing her.”

You watched Pierce and Rumlow, along with the other agents, stalk out of the room without even a single look over their shoulders. Your face still ached, and you could feel blood running down the back of your throat. You slowly turned to look back at your soulmate to see he had risen from the chair and was now staring down at you. The stormy blue eyes were cold and lifeless. He began to march toward you while clenching and unclenching his metal hand.

You scrambled back as he continued to march toward you.

There was no recognition in his eyes.

Just malice.

Just the mission.

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[buckyalpine]

Pretty Little Thing Part 9

18+ Minors dni

Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage)

Other characters: Sam, Peter, Steve, Thor, Nat, Clint, Loki, Walker

Here is part 9. Things come to a head when Rumlow took back what’s his, but were you ever really his to being with? Also time for a character reveal. 

Warnings: forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, violence, kidnapping, fluff

(Some bits of this felt a little rushed but I really wanted to get this part out because I’m also working on part 10!) 

Word count: 2.4k

Part 8 

If Rumlow wanted to come after you, then he should have come after him.  

Bucky replayed the video from the security footage around his property. Rage pumped through his veins, seeing your limp body tossed over Rumlow’s shoulder, throwing you into a van and screeching off. You were supposed to be safe with him. The clicks of guns and the sound of loading of bullets filled the room as the rest of the team suited up to come find you; Bucky was done with peace. He tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants, the screen of his phone lighting up with Nat’s number.

“We already checked two of his other warehouses, they’re empty. He might’ve taken her to the storage at the docks; Barton and I are headed there now”

Sam, Thor and Steve followed Bucky out of his office, making their way to the vans where Peter was already waiting, his jaw ticking.

“Peter, stay here with May” Bucky was about to send him back inside, but Peter shook his head, his stance unwavering. “Parker, it’ll be danger-

“No, I’m coming” He shrugged, pulling away and climbing into one of the SUV’s, impatiently waiting to put a bullet through someone. Steve could tell by the way Bucky swallowed thickly, something was eating at him. He twirled his knife between his fingers, a habit it picked up when he got nervous.

“Spit it out punk”

Bucky shook his head but Steve gave him a pointed look, staying rooted in place until his best friend told him what he was thinking.

“I love her” 

“Mind telling me something, everyone wasn’t already aware of”  Steve snorted, shaking his head.

“If anything happens…make sure she’s taken care of. Save her first”

Steve wanted to argue and tell him everything would be fine but he knew it was pointless. He nodded while Bucky’s jaw clenched as everyone else jointed, ready to leave.

“I’m killing him” Bucky’s voice was a growl, his body tense while Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze as they got into the back, the SUV doors slamming shut.

“C’mon, let’s go get your girl”

*****

Loki and Walker looked at each other while Rumlow paced around the room, growing more and more unhinged by the second. He had all his men surround the building, while Loki and Walker were assigned to guard you. He grinned, watching your eyes flutter open, your head throbbing from the sedatives he pumped you with.

“My pretty little thing”

You winced, your hands numb from the harsh ropes digging tightly into your skin. You were tied to a metal beam in the middle of a warehouse, the walls made entirely from concrete; no one would hear you scream. The faint smell of metallic copper and alcohol lingered in the air; you knew exactly where you were. His favourite place for business deals. The easiest place to dispose bodies. You felt bile rise in your throat as he brushed his lips against your temple, his body pressing against yours.

“Did you miss me doll?” You refused to meet his eyes even when he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. A permanent scar ran down his face from when you had hit his face with a bottle. His hot breath fanned on your, groaning as he inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume. “You smell good, so good.  Look at what you started sweetheart, this mess I have to clean up, all because you couldn’t keep your legs closed” Rumlow tsked, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I lost a few of my men already, all just for you”

“This isn’t my fau-

The sound of his hand slapping your cheek echoed through the room, his chest heaving. You wanted to spit in his face, tears stinging your eyes, your skin hot from where his palm met your cheek.

“It is your fucking fault” He hissed, his teeth grazing your cheek. “You’re MY wife, MINE. YOU’RE MARRIED TO ME, I’D RATHER SEE YOU DEAD THAN LET HIM HAVE YOU” Walker flinched, watching Rumlow raise his hand to strike you again but Loki grabbed his wrist before he could touch you.

“If you kill her now, we lose leverage” He whispered, tugging Rumlow a few steps away from you. You rolled your eyes, smirking to yourself, enjoying the reactions you got from him. If you were going to die, might as well make him suffer too.

“He. Can’t. Have. YOU” Rumlow growled, his hands balled into fists; he knew he had to keep you alive until Bucky got there but he wanted to wrap his hands around your throat so badly, flashes of you spread out and moaning for him clouding his mind.

“He’s already had me” You sneered, licking off a drop of blood that tinged your lips. “I might be married to you but it’s him that I want”

“Boss don’t let her get to you” Walker warned, hearing the screeching of tires approaching the area. His heart was already racing, he knew he’d signed up for many things but dealing with Bucky’s blood lust wasn’t one of them. Loki grabbed Rumlow and held him back while you continued to taunt him, not holding back on a single thing you let Bucky do to you.

“You know I let him cum wherever he wants, dripping all over his bed”

“You better stop y/n” Rumlow hissed, but you didn’t care, your eyes locked with his.

“I know how he tastes”

“You fucking whore” Loki had to drag him back as he tried to lunge for you again, his hand desperate to reach for his gun.

“I let him fuck me the first time I stayed with him. He didn’t even have to ask”

“YOU FUCKING BITCH-”  Before he could fight Loki to get to you, the faint sound of gun shots caught his attention, pulling away from Loki, his lips curving upwards. “You’re little boytoy is here” He sneered, locking and loading his gun, striding over to grasp your face in his hands.

“First I’m going to kill him in front of you” His lips brushed your cheek, while his other hand trailed down your body, grasping the soft flesh of your thighs. His breath fanned on your neck, moving to whisper in your ear, gripping the back of your hair “then I’ll show you how a real man fucks”

*****

“PARKER, WILSON, GO COVER THE NORTHERN SIDE” Steve shot down the men that charged towards them while Bucky shot two perfect rounds into the two guards at the front, before taking down a few more of Rumlow’s men. There was no slow build up; as soon as the cars screeched to a halt, the echoing of bullets rang through the air. Sam and Peter sprinted off to the front of the warehouse; Peter was going to make use of every single bullet he loaded without leaving any to spare. Nat and Clint had already covered the south wing while Thor and Steve joined Bucky’s side, searching for you.

The three men made their way down the dimly lit hall way, straight to the main metal doors that led to the center of the warehouse. Bucky had never felt fear and anger like this before, where he could feel his blood coursing through his body. He didn’t care what happened to him, killing Rumlow was a secondary issue; he just needed to see you alive and breathing.

As soon as they reached the doors, he burst through them, chest heaving, jaw clenched. You were the first thing his eyes fell on; you were alive. Cuts and bruises littering your body, you clothes were nearly in shreds. He couldn’t stand the way you were tied up, dark bruises from where Rumlow had his hands on you scattered on your arms and thighs but right now all that mattered to him was that you were alive. Loki stood near you while Walker joined Rumlow’s side. Rumlow grinned at the three men, his mind conflicting between killing Bucky on the spot or making him watch while he took you apart. 

“Are you here for someone Barnes”

“My girl” 

Walker felt an eerie chill watching Bucky silently stalk towards them, his eyes completely dark, void of emotion. His finger was already on the trigger, itching to put a bullet in Rumlow’s mouth but he wasn’t going to risk anything with you still there. Ironically, Rumlow felt the same; he couldn’t have you die in a shoot out when he didn’t get his way with you yet. His eyes switched between Steve, Thor and Bucky, all three men armed. He had to get you out first, before killing them off. 

“Loki, take y/n, GO, GET OUT”  Rumlow commanded, unwilling to let Bucky or any of his men rescue you when he finally got you back. He kept his eyes locked on Bucky, his chest heaving when he continued to stalk towards him. “Banres, don’t take another ste-

Rumlow whipped his gun out, his blood running cold when he heard the click of a pistol from behind him, the cold metal suddenly against his temple. Loki pressed it against Rumlow’s head, his lips curved upward into a smirk.

“Loki, what the fuck are you doing” He hissed, his eyes growing wide, feeling the barrel press further into his skin.

“I’m simply doing as I was asked” Loki smiled, while Walkers eyes grew wide, swallowing thickly, leaving Rumlow’s side and inching towards the door. 

“Brother” Thor nodded at Loki, before blocking the exist, preventing Walker from escaping.

“Who the fuck asked you to do this” Rumlow spat, his blood running cold at the satisfied smirk Bucky had on his face. 

“My boss James Barnes” Loki whispered, nearly cackling, he could practically hear Rumlow’s heart race “I don’t suppose you looked into my last name”

“Laufeyson” Rumlow growled through gritted teeth, his empire slipping from under his teeth. 

“I see you never heard of the Odinson brothers” Loki tsked, while Thor snorted as his brothers mischief. “Now drop the guns”

How anger surged through Rumlow, dropping the gun on the floor while Loki kicked it over and stepped aside, allowing Bucky to have his way. Steve rushed over to you, taking you off to the side while Bucky finally lunged for Rumlow. Sam and Peter ran into the warehouse having cleared what was left of the other guards. 

“You shouldn’t have taken her” Bucky threw a punch to his jaw, earning a satisfying crack, while Rumlows rings cut through his cheek. Bucky kicked him from under, sending him to the floor, unable to hold back anything any longer. 

He hurt you.

Bucky’s fist connected with his face repeatedly. 

Took you from him. 

Abused you. 

He made sure Rumlow’s vision was clouded with blood, he didn’t even have the right to look at you. 

His sweet baby.

You didn’t deserve any of this.

He broke each of his fingers with a satisfying snap, the pained cries only adding to his satisfaction. 

He’d never let that monster touch you again. 

“This ends now-

Bucky winced, feeling the knife slice into his side as Walker plunged it into him  before getting shot down by Peter. 

“You’ll- Rumlow grinned, blood staining his teeth.”-You’ll never get my wife” he hissed, gasping for air when Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. “I’m-I’m the one that-the on that married her” 

“You may have married her but I love her” Bucky threw Rumlow to the floor, catching the gun Steve tossed to him, pointing it between Rumlow’s eyes. “You’re never hurting her again” 

5 bullets. 1 would have been enough but the  4 were just to be sure. 

“Dispose of him” Bucky ordered, while Sam and Peter happily dragged Rumlow’s lifeless form off to the side of the warehouse. Bucky ran to you where you sat with Steve, tears streaming down your face looking at the blood that soaked his side. 

“M’here baby, look at me Angel, you’re safe”

“James!” You were hardly able to stand, but you pushed yourself to your feet, your hand pressing against the gash on his side. “You got hurt because of me-

“Shhhh, y/n, careful” His arms wrapped around you, slipping his blazer off and wrapping it around your body. You tried hard to stay standing, your knees giving way, letting him scoop you in his arms, setting you down on one of the crates.  “I’m here for you angel”

He looked over your body to see if there were any injuries he missed, but you were impatient. You just wanted to be in his arms again and take care of the cuts that now littered his body. 

“James, please, you’re bleeding” You tried to plead with him but he smiled softly at you, carrying you in his arms again. 

“Hardly a scratch angel” Your arms clung around his neck, breathing in his scent, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as he carried you back to the van. “Lets go home doll”

You could finally go home. 

He was your new home. 

Steve, and the rest followed behind while you clung onto him for dear life, refusing to let go, sitting in his lap as he sat in the back. You were joined with Thor, Peter and Loki while Sam sat at the front with Steve. Your heart raced, seeing the man who Rumlow had guard your locked room for days. Granted, something about him never made you feel unsafe. You remembered the many times he had stepped in before Rumlow could touch you. Bucky felt your body tremble slightly, rubbing your back soothingly, kissing your forehead. 

“I sent Loki to watch over you angel. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know what he was doing to you” You peeked over at the man with dark raven hair, an apologetic smile gracing his face. 

“James sent me to watch over you after Rumlow locked you away. I apologize for not telling you anything or being able to do more. We didn’t want him growing suspicious and endanger you” 

“Thank you” You whispered, snuggling further in Bucky’s hold. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him again. You knew he would keep you safe. You fell asleep, tucked in his arms, stirring awake again when you felt the cool night air hit your skin. He held you close to him, carrying you up the drive way and through the doors of his home, taking you right to his room so he could take care of you. Just like he always did. 

“Welcome home my sweet doll” 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Private Show

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon/dubcon, cheating, body image issues and insecurity, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find your husband at the strip club but he’s the least of your concerns.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: @slyyywriting​ had to fuck me up today.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tom Nook loves collecting rent. Take care. 💖

Why are you here? Are you crazy? Has he finally driven you over the edge?

You drop your head into your hands, elbows against the steering wheel as you try to collect yourself. As if it isn’t humiliating enough. It’s the last straw. You can’t do it anymore. You won’t. 

You suck in a shuddery breath and sit up, gripping the ridged leather of your rusty beater. You see the silver Lexus, his new baby just across the lot. The flashing marquee with the woman in shock at her own nudity mocks you, casting red through your windshield. Your lip trembles, hold it together, bitch.

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants still damp with dishwater, the loose cotton tee barely hidden beneath an unzipped hoodie, and a pair of scuffed Walmart sneakers. You’re at home, scrubbing dishes, cleaning up his dirty socks, cooking a dinner that will only go cold, and he’s out here in his overpriced sportscar dropping money on strippers.

A cold trickle flows down your spine. Well, why wouldn’t he? You let yourself go. You’ve become the ratty, miserable, tired wife who can barely keep the floors swept. You wake up, go to work, come home and clean, then have nothing left to give him. The extra pounds don’t help either. You tug up the hem of your shirt and trace the new stretch mark.

Disgusted, you force yourself out of the car. You still have a shred of dignity. You snap the door shut and shove the jangly keys in the hoodie pocket. You drag your hands down your face and shake out your arms, building your nerve.

You march across the lot and approach the bouncer standing by the doors. His arms are crossed over his large chest as he gives a grimace to the world. He notices you and his square forehead wrinkles. You almost want to turn and run.

“’scuse me, ma’am,” he stops you with a raised palm, “you in the right place?”

You inhale and nod, “yes,” you tilt your chin up defiantly, fingers twiddling as doubt nips at your scalp, “my husband is inside.”

The words wisp from you and leave your chest hollow. Saying it out loud twists the knife to the bone. The man lets out and ‘ah’ but not much else. He tuts as and shakes his head, turning to open the door, “no fighting,” he warns.

“Just a bit of screaming,” you assure him as you bluster through, hands balled as you cling to your anger. Yes, be mad, that’s easy. 

You stomp inside and stop short, looking around at the spectrum of colours; fabric, lights, glitter, bottles, flesh… You’re dizzy as you keep searching, standing on your toes as you try to see past the bodies sat along the bar and those clustered around tables. A few men sit alone, throwing money up on the stage as women twirl and spread their legs. How many of them are married?

You see him. Brock. The scoundrel. Your teeth chatter and you gulp as your eyes singe. You want to run away. You want to go home and cry into your pillow. No, it ends here. Tonight.

“Hey, honey,” a waitress startles you, “oh, uh,” her surprise is obvious as she takes you in, “need a drink?”

“Maybe after,” you answer quietly, “thanks.”

She bats her lashes and gives a tremulous grin, “alright, sweetie.”

She quickly retreats, approaching a paying customer with a shimmy of her chest. You roll your shoulders and push your head up. You want that rat husband to feel the same humiliation that scours your stomach. Strippers, really? He told you he was working late.

You make yourself move. Your heart pounds as you tramp across the room, past tables of chattering men, through the din of music playing along to the movement of naked bodies. Brock lifts his glass as you near, noticing too late as his dark eyes hang off the blond hanging upside down from a pole.

“You bastard,” you snarl as knock the glass out of his hand, “you fucking liar!”

“Woah, woah,” he raises his hands, “uh, honey,” he greets, “what are you–”

“What am I doing here?! What–” you huff, head spinning, “is this work now? Hm? You lied to me. You left me at home to clean up after your lazy ass and you're spending our money on this?”

“Our money?” He scoffs.

“Oh shut up! I can’t believe you! Actually, no, you know what, I can,” you sneer, “why the fuck did I ever marry you?”

He chuckles darkly and stands, slowly, sinisterly. The way he does to win all your arguments. Just close enough to make you anxious.

“Let’s not do this here.”

“No, no, let’s do it here because you’re not coming home.”

“Ha, I’m not? Not allowed in the house I pay for–”

“I work too-”

“You make pennies,” he retorts, “go home, honey, I’ll be there soon for dinner.”

“No, no, don’t even–”

“What the fuck did you think I was going to do?” His eyes fall down your body, “look at you. You’re not hiding anything special. I needa do this–” he gestures to the dancer, “just to get hard for your fat ass.”

You reel, the air knocked out of you. Your determination dwindles and you look around. You’re being watched. The performers can hardly keep up their routines as their eyes stray to the scene. A surge of shame erupts to fury.

“Fuck you!” You hit Brock in the chest, “fuck you!” You hit him again. He doesn’t even flinch. His indifference riles you further and you swing for his face. You’re pulled back before you can connect.

“Woah, lady,” an arm wraps around your middle, “settle down, no fighting in here–”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” you growl as you claw wildly, “I’m going to–”

“Sweetheart,” another voice rises as another man appears, “come on, let’s pack it in.”

You grab at the arm around you, tugging on it without result. Brock rolls his eyes, “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t think she’d just show up–”

“I don’t give a fuck, get out,” the man says. He puts a hand on his hip, pushing back his dark jacket as he rubs his short stubble.

Slowly, sense returns to you and cools your angry adrenaline. Suddenly, you're horribly embarrassed. You stop and cover your face, “oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’ll go– I don’t know what came over me–”

“Not you,” the man intones out of the side of his mouth, “you.” You drop your hands to your chest as he points at Brock, “and don’t come back.”

“What– I didn’t do shit,” your husband snarls, “she came in here and–”

“You think I don’t see this all the damn time. Get out.” He pivots dismissively, Take the lady to the backroom and get her a drink.”

“No, no, please, I’ll go,” you insist, squirming as you try to free yourself.

“You’ll have a drink and calm down, sweetheart,” he waggles his finger at you then points to the ceiling, “Sam, take care of this asshole.”

Another man comes around and reaches for Brock’s arm. Your husband pulls away gruffly, “I can leave on my fucking own,” he snips, “don’t send that bitch home. She can sleep on the curb.”

Your lip trembles as Brock storms out, kicking over a chair as the man, Sam, follows to see him out. You clutch the string of your hoodie as the man at your back releases you.

“I’m so sorry. I– I didn’t– I wasn’t thinking,” you say.

“John,” the man snaps his fingers.

The man at your side once more takes your arm and tugs on you. You peer around then drop your eyes to the floor in shame. You let him lead you away, eager to hide from your rapt audience.

“Alright, alright, back to business,” the man, some sort of manager you assume, calls behind you.

You’re taken down a hallway to one of the private rooms and your escort flicks on the In Use light before showing you in. He doesn’t say a word and neither do you before he shuts the door. You sigh and look around, the space cast in a gentle violet hue centered around a small stage. 

You tread hesitantly along the carpet and around the curved couch. A knock comes and you peek over as a woman in a short red dress enters with a tray with a bottle of Jack and two glasses. You watch her cross the room and set it on the low round table. You don’t know what to say so you let her go without a word.

You pace and chew your thumb. You could just go. No one would notice. Besides, why keep you here? Shit, what if they’re calling the police?

You rush for the door but it opens before you can reach it. The man, the one in charge, enters, shutting the door with a flick of his wrist as you nearly collide with him. You step back and wring your hands as you stare at him. He smirks as he watches you.

“What’s the hurry, sweetheart? Sounds like the old man won’t be staying up.”

“Um,” you swallow and cross your arms, trying to hide yourself. Compared to the club of primped, pretty women, you must stick out horribly, “I should go–”

“I told you to have a drink,” he nears and waves you towards the couch, “come on.”

“N–” you begin as he grabs your shoulder before slowly sliding his arm over it. He turns you with him and walks you across the room.

“Sit,” he points to the arched cushion, “the least you can do after coming into my club with that shit.”

You pull away and lower yourself to the couch. You hunch forward as you fold your arms over your lap, “I’m sorry–”

“I get it it, sweetie,” he goes to the table and breaks the seal on the bottle, pouring the dark whiskey into the crystal, “I’ve had this place for a while, I know men, I know most of the ones who come here shouldn’t.”

He caps the bottle and takes both glasses. He comes back to you and offers you one. You thank him with no intent to drink. He straightens and takes a long sip.

“Almost feel bad taking their money,” he mulls, “sorry, sweetheart, I know that’s not too nice to say right now.” He strides around casually.

“I… are you going to call the police?” You ask at last, cradling the glass of whiskey.

“If I was, you wouldn’t be in here,” he flicks his fingers at you, “not too hard to mop up some vodka. No harm, no foul.”

You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.

“Drink,” he demands, “I’m being pretty generous, so don’t test it.”

You raise the glass hesitantly. You take a small drink of the bitter liquid and it burns down your throat. You cough and cover your mouth. As you look up, he comes back to you and sits.

“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. That moron you call a husband should be,” he shrugs and takes a deep swig of his whiskey, “makes me wonder why they can’t just appreciate what they got.”

You laugh darkly and drink to smother your smart comment. He watches you and you shy away. He pushes against the bottom of your glass and floods your mouth with the whiskey. You choke and pull it away from your lips, hiding the overflow with your hand before wiping it away with your sleeve.

“How long?” He takes your hand away from your mouth and touches the ring on your finger.

You look at the gold band, “five years in June.”

“Ah,” he clucks and stretches to set his glass down, “not exactly what I meant. How long’s it been since he fucked you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, that’s why he’s here. Why you’re here–”

“I don’t even know who you are,” you stand and look for a place to put your drink. 

He grabs your wrist, “finish your drink and answer the question.”

You yank on your arm but his grip is firm. He tugs you until you’re forced back down. You twist your arm in his grasp and he squeezes, a warning.

“Bucky,” he states, “I own this place. Now, sweetheart, you wanna be proper, fine, what’s your name?”

You stare at him. He slowly lets you go and you rub your temple. Well, what the fuck else are you gonna do? You can’t go home. You murmur out your name.

“Alright, and my other question.”

You take a drink. A big one. The glass is empty. He takes it from you as you swipe your hand across your lips to dab away the dribble. You blow out as your stomach swirls.

“Nine months.”

“Nine–” he puts down your glass and sits back to face you, “nine months.”

“Shit,” you shake your head and examine your hands, “I can’t blame him so please, I know why. You don’t have to say it.”

“Why?”

You frown, “it isn’t that hard to guess.”

“I don’t know, tell me.”

You scoff. You turn your face away and furl your fingers as you bite back tears. This if fucking humiliating. 

“Look at me,” you whisper.

“I’m trying, sweetheart, but you’re hiding.”

You huff, “please, I would rather just go sleep on the street.”

“Babe, alright, I’m not being mean here. I’m not teasing you,” he shifts closer and his hand rests on your lower back. You wince. It feels like it’s been years since you’ve been touched, even just like that. “Looks like you break your back at home, you deserve appreciation for that. Shouldn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

You clench your jaw as you look down, his other hand toys with the open zipper of your shirt. You pull your arms in and hug yourself.

“Why… am I here?”

“Sweetheart, you’re still a woman under all this. Your husband’s too fucked to know it.” His finger tickles up your sweater and he plays with your hoodie, “I’ll take a good fucking bet that you could be up on one of these stages.”

“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.

“I mean it,” his thumb brushes your jaw, “prove me wrong.”

You go rigid and grab his hand. You try to push it away and he twines his fingers through yours. He pulls your hand over and kisses the back of it.

“Well, am I wrong?” He purrs as he clings to you.

Your throat constricts as you meet his gaze. This man is hitting on you? With his eyes and his jawline, his cheekbones. You laugh cynically.

“You are wrong and I’m married.”

He lets go of your hand as you face forward. His hand lingers on your back still and crawls under your hoodie. He tugs at the elastic of your sweats and you yelp in surprise, you’re not wearing any underwear.

“Looks like a fine ass to me,” he snickers.

“Hey,” you shove him away, “what the fuck?”

“I’m not convinced,” he says.

“What?”

“I’m not convinced you’re the problem, sweetie, so you’re gonna have to show me that I’m wrong. Right now. You show me you’re not hot as fuck.”

You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”

“Take those fucking clothes off,” he leans in to growl in your ear.

You gasp as his lips tickle your cheek, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You shiver as he brushes his fingers along your neck. He grips your jaw and presses his mouth against you as he speaks.

“You come into my fucking club and make a fucking scene like that, sweetheart,” he growls, “you want to put on a show, finish it.” He stands, dragging you up with him as he squeezes your jaw painfully, “go on, stage is right there.”

“Bucky,” you grasp his wrist, “I’m sorry–”

“Ah, ah, shhh,” he hushes you, “no more talking.”

He spins you, stopping you with hands on your hips and nudges you towards the stage. You trip as he lets you go and stumble forward. You stare at the platform, the single step up, not very far from the couch at all. Close enough to see everything.

You look at the door as you wiggle your fingers. You can go. Run for it. He startles you as suddenly his hand is in your pocket and he fishes out your keys as if reading your mind. He throws them across the room and they fall into shadow.

“I got a man outside anyhow, so let’s go, sweetheart,” he claps his hands as he falls onto the couch with a rush of air.

“I don’t–”

Music rises from the speakers, interrupting you. You turn to watch him place his phone screen down beside him and lean back. He spreads his arms across the back of the couch as he sways one leg.

You face the stage again and brace yourself. You can’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t dance. You’re hideous.

“Just gotta shake your ass a bit, sweetheart, really, it’s not rocket science,” he goads.

You climb onto the stage, eyes skittering evasively as you try to figure out what to do next. You awkwardly lift your foot and slide off your sneaker, then do the same to the other. You kick your shoes away as you pace nervously to the beat.

“Give it a bit of sass, baby,” he intones and you glance over, his hand on his thigh as he keeps one arm over the couch.

You turn and grab the front of your hoodie. You look at the ceiling and shimmy a bit, easing your sleeves down your shoulders. You get caught in the fabric and untangle your hands from the cuffs before finally flinging it away.

“Please,” you clasp the loose fabric of your tee, “I can’t–”

“You can,” he insists as his fingers tap on his leg.

You huff and look at the wall, trying to focus on the rhythm. You don’t feel very sexy. Your skin is hot with embarrassment but the heat is far from pleasant. You raise the hem of your shirt, baring your stomach as you hope the lighting hides the rippled lines around your hips. You unveil your white bra and swipe the cotton past your head.

You drop the shirt and give a spin, if only to hide a cringe. He gives a low groan but you’re certain it’s a laugh. You face him as you hook your fingers in the elastic of your sweats. If you get it over with, he’ll have his fun and send you off.

You roll down the top of the pants, rocking your hips as the music guides you. You push them down your pelvis, the cool air raising bumps all over you. As the fabric falls lower, you turn your back to him and tug it down past your ass. You drop them to your ankles and step out of them.

You reach back to unhook your bra, wiggling your bottom. You unclasp the back and ease the straps along your arms. You add it to the mess across the stage as a low shudder underlines the music. You turn, shyly, scared, and face him again.

You still, unable to even try. You can’t pretend. You don’t belong here. He’s making that clear. You came in here and now he’s showing you what’s what. Your lips part as you look at him, his hand on his crotch as he bites his lip. You blink dumbly.

You hide your body with your arms, “can I go now?”

“Go where?” He breathes as he squeezes himself, “we’re not done.”

“I…” you tuck your chin down, “please–”

“I’m hard as fuck, sweetheart, you’re not gonna leave me like this,” he drags his hand away to reveal the bulge in his pants, “so come here and take care of it.”

You gape at him. No. You’re married. And he’s a stranger.

You look down at your body and muster what’s left of your courage. You let your arms hang straight, letting him see everything. Heat spatters across your flesh, from nape to heel, sinking into your core. You quiver, for a moment confused by the plucking that feels so familiar and yet, not.

You urge yourself forward, feet flat and uncertain. Your thighs brush together as you step down from the stage and you let out a wisp. Bucky purrs as you come closer and reaches out to take you by the hips. His thumbs graze the raised flesh of your stretch marks and you latch onto his wrists.

“Please–”

“Please,” he echoes and pulls you between his knees, leaning forward to kiss the imperfections, “beautiful.”

You swallow and shake your head, “don’t lie to me.”

“I don’t fucking lie,” he breathes against your skin, teeth grazing hotly, “mm, you are so fucking hot…” he tilts his head back to look at you, his hand trailing up to grope your chest, “I told you I was right.”

Your tongue swipes between your lips and you watch how he fondles you, the doting of his hand as he rolls his thumb around your nipple. He snakes his hand under your arm and pulls you with him as he sits back. He guides you to straddle his lap.

His touch explores your torso and his breath fans over your chest. He twirls his tongue around your nipple and takes it in his mouth, suckling as he cups your other tit. He plays with you, his mouth replacing his other hand as he leaves a smear of spit across your skin. 

He kneads your ass as he rocks your hips against him. He hums, the vibration thrumming through you, as he grinds you against his crotch. He snarls and falls back against the couch.

“You make me wait any longer, sweetheart, and you’re going to ruin my pants,” he rasps and nods to his body, “get on me.”

You look down at him, his jacket wide to reveal the dark shirt taut across his broad chest. You shakily put your hands on his pecs, feeling the firm muscle and letting them wander down his hard torso. You watch your hands as if they’re someone else’s. 

You stop at the button along his fly. He growls and bucks his hips in encouragement, bouncing you. You pick open the button and zipper, brushing along his bulge and eliciting a gritty snarl. You push down the top of his boxers and reach beneath to wrap your fingers around him. He groans as you pull him out, stroking him as you admire his thick length.

“More than you’re used to?” He chuckles as he runs his hand along your thigh.

You lift yourself on your knees and angle against him, pushing his tip along your folds. He catches your chin and pokes his thumb along your lip as you guide him against your cunt. You lower yourself, stretching around him little by little. You stop halfway and whimper.

“Oh, baby, I know you can do it,” he cradles your face, “come on, just a little more–”

You sink down completely and he gasps, squeezing your head between his hands as he throws his head back. He sneers between his teeth as you grasp his shoulders and let out a billowy breath. You whine as you rock against him.

“Sweetheart,” he snickers as he pulls his hands away, “fuck.”

He grips your hip and tilts you, leading your motion as his eyes descend your body. You follow his pace, slipping a hand down to his chest as you moan. You’ve never been so full, so free. It’s wrong but you feel nothing but delight.

He dips his other hand down and bends his fingers along your clit, toying with you as he keeps your moving. You whine as your core pulses and the pleasure laces around your nerves, drawing them tighter and tighter. You roll your eyes back and hum as you suck in your bottom lip.

“You feel how fucking wet you are for me,” he rubs you faster, “I thought I told you not to ruin these pants.”

You groan as you carry your tempo, curling your fingers into his shoulder as his hand trails up your back. He grabs the back of your head and pulls you close, kissing you and swallowing up your moans as he keeps his fingertips pressed to your clit. You quaver as the tension winds to a fever pitch.

You tear your mouth from his and clutch his head between your hands as you cum. You cry out as you rest your lips against his hairline, shaking as the release flows from you. He grunts and hooks his arm around you.

He flips you onto your back as you exclaim. He pushes into you as deep as he can go and pulls back, thrusting sharply so you whimper. He slides back, pausing, then slams in again. He does it over and over, slamming in harder and harder as your walls cling to his long strokes.

“You even remember his name, sweetheart?” He puffs as he pounds into you, his hand stretching across your throat, “tell me, baby, who’s your daddy?”

You groan and push against his hip as he ruts, hammering you into the cushions. The world tilts and spins around you, your anger, your doubts, all lost to the whirlwind of his fucking. You clasp his thick arm and whine.

“Tell me, baby,” he demands as he squeeze your neck.

“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”

“Who am I, baby?” 

“Daddy,” you drone and your head lolls in another wave of ecstasy, “daddy, please, daddy…”

[fluffyprettykitty]

Potentiality

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x shield agent female reader

Word Count: 1900 words

Outline: You have been training under Rumlow for a couple of months now, but he never seemed satisfied with your performance until you ask him why.

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21+. Rumlow is 40+), power play, pet names (kid, little girl), degradation, spanking, semi-public sex, humiliation, anal fingering, mirror sex, spit as lube, penetrative anal sex, come eating, ear biting, rough body play, generally rumlow is mean and rough.

Author's Note: This a little bit more unhinged and a little different that what I usually do but I'm really happy with it!

Main Masterlist ・❥・Brock Rumlow Masterlist

NSFW UNDERNEATH THE CUT. MINORS DNI.

Shield headquarters, noon. 

You try to go faster, switching from every exercise effortlessly, acing every test and scoring better than anyone else in your class. Yet he was still not satisfied. You watched him as he shook his head after every movement, after every perfectly executed technique, even when everyone else gave you perfect scores, he only sighed and told you ‘ he expected better from you.’

Brock Rumlow was your boss and trainer, a tall, chiseled, broad-chested, and brunette man who looked absolutely menacing. You had joined the shield academy only a year ago but your progress and your talents were quickly noted so you ended up here today getting trained by him.��

But he didn’t seem impressed with you. 

Not at all.

Not even in the slightest. 

He always had some sort of complaint, some kind of observation to make. 

Today you were feeling frustrated, utterly and utterly frustrated. When he picks up his files to walk outside the training room, you call after him, grabbing his arm. 

It only takes one quick movement from him, to hold you by your throat and push you against the wall. Something about this sudden burst of power had your legs closed together. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t dreamt of him every night and day since you two had first met.

“What do you want, kid?” 

You struggle a little under his strong grip, gazing deep into his almost dark eyes. You love being in this exact position but you can’t let him know.

“I want another chance. You know I aced that stupid test. “

He rolls his eyes and lets you go, turning around with a chuckle.

“Hey, you know I’m good, stop ignoring me!”

“You’re good. Sickeningly so. But there’s zero original bone in your body. Very predictable and not at all spontaneous or innovative. Unfit for any mission.”

He doesn’t even turn to look at you as he presses the elevator button, the doors opening for him to get it. 

“I am not predictable!” You protest and walk after him inside the elevator.

“You are the most fucking predictable person I’ve ever had the displeasure to meet.” He announces and turns around staring at the door, pressing his floor button, and setting his bag between his legs. 

You are seething, heat rising in all of your body and that’s when you reach out for the stop button. Once you press it, he manhandles you again, grabbing you by your shirt at the back of your neck and pushing your body against the elevator mirror, your bag falling off your shoulder to the ground.

“What the fuck do you want?”

You realize you let out a moan when he does so, only when you hear him chuckle.

“You’re unfit for any mission because simply you are just too horny.” He smirks as he says so, and you can see it against the foggy mirror.

“No, I’m not!”

“You are going to deny that? What you think that I am stupid and I can’t understand when a little girl has her little pussy in a twist for me?”

Oh, it sounds like music in your ears. You feel both a wave of desire and a wave of embarrassment washing over you. His hand on your back moves further down to your ass cupping it.

“You think I don’t know how soaking wet your pretty pussy must be right now?” His hand feels big and rough against the thin fabric of your training shorts and he begins to rub the palm of his hand against your ass line. “Bet she will be much nicer to me than you are.”

“I…” You wanna say something, you wanna protest, you wanna beg him to touch you more but you also don’t want to seem so desperate, so you stay like this, arching your back for him, praying he is going to touch you more.

“I don’t really care about your pussy.” He circles your asshole with his middle finger, feeling so big against your now responding hole, his ear so firm against yours, hot breath feeling your mouth. 

“I want that ass that can’t seem to stop begging for attention. Tell me do you think I don’t know you ordered a suit a size smaller? That you bend and lean down and shove your ass down anyone’s faces?” He chuckles. “So fucking desperate for attention. Can’t find any pathetic little boy to fuck you?”

“No-no…” You whisper, your hands keeping your body from crashing against the mirror.

‘’Pathetic.” He bites your earlobe as he pushes his finger down your asshole over your fabric. “Wearing the tiniest fucking thongs so I can look it. Do you think I like desperate girls?”

“I…” He rips the fabric apart and then spanks your ass hard.  “No, I fucking don’t.” His movements suggest otherwise though, he spits on your ass, as it’s perking up for him and so he begins to circle your asshole with his finger round and round and round until he pushes it inside and starts moving it inside and out.

“You ever been fucked in the ass before?” It’s very obvious what his favorite place to fuck is.

“Yes.” You moan out, the pleasure is going to your head already. 

“Of course, you have, you little whore.” He pushes the finger deeper inside you scissoring it around. It feels so good, you shut your eyes as he seems to be setting a rhythm, scissoring you around with two of his fingers until is finally time. 

You hear the sound of a package being ripped off and you momentarily wonder if he ever thought about fucking you before. Why was he walking around during a training session with condoms in his pocket? 

Your eyes must look confused inside the mirror as he decides to explain but you can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. Maybe he was planning to fuck someone else.

“I like clean things. I am a man of tideness.” He smiles at you through the mirror and then places the condom on his length, spreading the pre-cum down the length of it first. He looks big and lengthy and you know he definitely doesn’t wear underwear either. 

He keeps his hands firm on your hips as he pushes his cockhead inside, praising you for your tightness in his own way. 

“Damn I never thought a little whore could be so tight. Knowing how you looked at me like that, I thought you’d be fucking yourself with every dildo you can find.”

Looks like he has never been inside your room thankfully. Your little dildo collection was ever-growing. 

Then he gets brutal and meaner. He started slower pushing his cock inside you, allowing you to adjust, but once he knew you could take him, he grab you by the back of your shirt again and pushed you down on the floor. You struggled to keep your hands still but you know this was his punishment for your alleged non-existent spontaneity. 

He is big, and he can overpower you easily. Gripping your waist tightly as he thrusts hard and fast inside your, raising his shirt up with his hand and gripping it with his teeth, obviously wanting to watch his cock swallowed by your ass. Your pussy was dripping on the floor and so far he hasn’t made any movements towards it or even looked at it. You wanted to protest about it but you knew he wanted to punish you for something. 

He keeps it like that fast and rough and animalistic, fucking you like how you deserved to for not being good enough. According to him. And then he pulls out and pushes you against the floor, turning you around to face him.

Finally, you think to yourself and reach out to kiss him. He responds to it and it feels passionate and hungry and sticky until he pushes you away from his lips. He grabs your legs, places them on his shoulders, and pushes his cockhead inside your asshole again, ignoring your pussy completely. 

You try to balance yourself on your hands, and you admire how utterly gorgeous he looks like that, with sweat dripping down his neck and his face getting redder. You were very happy you were the one responsible for that. 

You also knew that he kept you like this cause it would be difficult for you as well to touch your pussy. His thrusts went back to slow motion, as he looked at you, waiting for you to budge or to beg. 

Little did he know that you loved getting fucked anyway, every way. 

He pushes your shirt up, revealing your breasts to him finally and he shakes his head when he sees them. “Were you pulling your nipples desperately hoping you’d get to fuck me?”

“How!” He cuts you off by slamming his body against yours and then picking up a very fast pace. He was rough, his hands grabbed your waist, as he watches now your breasts jiggling fast up and down with his movement. Your hole felt incredibly tight for him and he knew he was getting close to finishing. 

“You wanna cum too?” He bites his bottom lip as he is using your body for his pleasure and you nod desperately as you finally utter the one word he longed to hear. 

“Oh, please, please, please, let me cum.” 

By the way, he laughs, you know very well you shouldn’t have said that. And with a few more slow strokes, he shoots his seed inside the confinement of the condom, and you can feel it as it makes you feel warmer. Your pussy is desperately wet and aching, as you are watching him finish and twitch his neck and his body tremble above you.

“Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.” He scoffs and pulls his cock out, your legs trembling as he pushes them down, he takes the condom off, as you are settling on the floor watching him, and throws it at you. Confused you take it between your hands and stare at the liquid. You can taste it. You don’t need permission. 

Brock is breathing heavily as he sits next to you, watching your movements. As you tilt your head back and raise your arm, to let the liquid fall in your mouth, he quickly presses his palm against your pussy. The cum starts falling inside your mouth as he rubs your clit making you cum with a loud groan of his name. 

His cum truly feels like heaven to you. He stays with you in the elevator cuddling you and kissing your forehead until you are ready to face the world again and he even fixes your clothes for you by lending you a second pair of trousers of his from his bag. 

When you both exit the elevator half an hour later, he shoots you a ‘do better’ and leaves for the higher-ups' offices. Momentarily you think about who he could possibly be fucking up there and for the rest of the day, you can feel him everywhere. 

The next day he goes back to ignoring you. Expect now you knew how to get his attention.

for updates please follow @fluffyprettykittylibrary, my inbox is always open!

[nekoannie-chan]

Next door

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader. Steve Rogers X Reader (past).

Word count: 770 words.

Summary: Your partner died in car crash a few years ago. You never thought you’d fall for anyone ever again. Until a new neighbor moved in next door.

Warnings: Steve is dead.

A/N: This is my entry to @caplanbuckybarnes’ Summary Challenge #5.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanieie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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The kettle rattled, you sighed, poured the hot tea into the cup, and you sat down. You didn't even know why you kept waiting for Steve to come through that door after he had gone for a run, but he wouldn't.

Sometimes you had nightmares about that car accident you had years ago after your last mission together.

He promised you he would always protect you, and he did. He made sure you survived.

After what happened, you couldn't bear to stay in the same division, not without your husband and teammate.

However, you kept hoping that he would walk in the door as he used to every morning, that you would have breakfast together, and then go to work waiting for the next assignment, but it never happened.

There was no way you could forget him.

However, that morning, something different happened. You started to hear noises in the apartment next door, which had been empty for almost a year. You felt hope; maybe Steve had survived and had amnesia, and now he was going to live in the apartment next door and you would help him.

You put the cup down, walked out quickly, and frowned as you saw the kind of furniture they were putting in; it was definitely not Steve's style.

"Hello," a male voice said behind you, causing you to startle.

You turned to see who it was; he didn't even seem to have the decency to introduce himself. Maybe you knew the person. "Do I know you? "

"We work in the same place," he answered as if it were obvious and the most normal thing in the world.

You raised your eyebrow; you didn't remember. No one from work lived in your building, although sometimes Natasha and Clint visited you.

"Rumlow, Strike Team Commander," he replied, extending his hand.

"Oh, right, what are you doing here?" you asked. Steve sometimes got to go on missions with them, although you’ve never worked with that team and much less now that you were in another division.

"I'm going to be your neighbor," he declared.

You gave a forced smile; you weren't very happy, especially since your hope had just disappeared.

Maybe you had to accept what everyone was telling you—Steve wasn't coming back.

"Hey, I was wondering if you had any salt you could give me," Brock asked you when you opened the door.

"Sure, give me a minute."

You closed the door; maybe you were a little paranoid, but it seemed that your new neighbor was looking for any pretext, even the silliest one, to come to your apartment and see you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, and the only thing that was happening was that he was just getting settled and didn't even know where the supermarket was.

You saw that the light intensity was varying on the bulb, Steve was supposed to have fixed that a few years before, you went to see where the fuse box was, but at that point, you were out of electricity, although you didn't know how to fix the flaw anyway.

You left the apartment, walked to the next door, and stood for a few seconds in front of it. You had just realized that Steve always fixed all the malfunctions, but you never thought about what would happen if he were gone.

"Y/N? Is everything all right? "

"Ah, yeah, I… I… I have a problem with the electricity."

You didn't even have to explain further; he immediately went to work fixing the problem. You offered him a beer after the power was restored.

"Thank you, my hus... Steve always took care of fixing all the glitches," you said, and you thanked him.

"I’m sorry what happened to him."

An awkward silence fell; it seemed like he was the first person you let be a little closer since Steve happened, since even with Natasha and Clint you didn't talk that much, and most of the time it was just being silent or pretending to help you with some S.H.I.E.L.D. stuff.

"Do you have anything to do on Saturday?" Brock asked suddenly, and you shook your head and said, "Then we'll go to the movies on Saturday."

You looked at yourself for the last time in the mirror, in less than ten minutes he would knock on the door of your apartment.

Your last date was many years ago, so you felt nervous, especially because you didn't think you could fall in love again after losing your husband. But you were still young, so it was time to move on with your life.

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3

Summary: You find out the truth about Fury and, after he brings you up to speed, you make plans to take down Hydra for good.

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader, platonic!Nick Fury x F!Reader, platonic!Maria Hill x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Pierce being a dick. Mentions of death. Mentions of fighting and fire arms. The Winter Soldier, he's a warning. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The ride is quiet until Steve, who was shocked into silence until this moment, says “It was him.”

You look at him on your right but his gaze is to the floor. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

“How's that even possible?” Sam says from in front of Steve. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”

“Zola.” Steve answers without skipping a beat. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…” he trails off, looking up at Sam.

“None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha says and you turn your attention on her.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” You're too busy looking at Natasha’s palling face to be sad for Steve.

“We need to get a doctor here.” You say, your eyes landing on the blood on her shoulder, which apparently Sam noticed too.

“We don't put pressure on that wound,” he says, turning to the agent next to him “she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The guard pulls out an electric rod and looks like he's gonna use it on Sam but, suddenly, he pokes the other guard with it.

You're all so fucking confused until the guard takes out his helmet to reveal a groaning Maria Hill.

“That thing was squeezing my brain.” she looks at all of you while you let out a breath of relief, but she lands on Sam and then looks back at Steve, pointing at him. “Who’s this guy?”

“Long story” you say and, when she narrows her eyes at you, you roll your own. “I’m handcuffed too, I’m obviously on your side.” you say while raising your cuffed hands and raising an eyebrow.

She softens but relented only after receiving a nod from Steve, confirming what you're saying. 

She helps you escape and soon you're entering a seemingly abandoned facility, Natasha leaning on you for balance.

A man you recognize as one of the doctors that were operating on Fury runs towards you and you frown. 

What the hell’s going on?

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint.” Hill says to the doctor.

“Maybe two.” Sam adds.

“Let me take her.” the doctor says, but Maria stops him.

“She’ll want to see him first.” she says while she leads the way, the doctor helping you carry Natasha. 

Hill takes you to a room where you’re all shocked to find Fury lying in a bed, alive.

“About damn time.” he says and you almost cry after hearing his voice.

You all sit down and, as the doctor starts to work on Natasha’s wound next to you, you all listen intently as Fury explains what’s going on.

“Lacerated spinal column,” he ends by listing his injuries “cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache.”

“Don't forget your collapsed lung.” the doctor says from Nat’s other side.

“Oh, let's not forget that.” Fury says sarcastically “Otherwise, I'm good.”

“They cut you open,” Natasha says, you knew she took it hard after all. “your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B.” He says like it was obvious. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve voices what you're all thinking.

“Yeah.” you add, obviously hurt. “Why not just tell us?”

“Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful.” Hill answers for him.

“Can't kill you if you're already dead.” Fury seems amused with himself, then gets more serious. “Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.”

You try not to take that too personally and, glancing at Natasha, you can tell when she meets your eyes that she's trying to do the same.

-

Fury gives you guys some time to process everything before you move to a room with a table to start strategizing on how to move forward.

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury says while looking at a picture of a young Pierce. “He said, Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” He finishes looking at you guys.

“We have to stop the launch.” Natasha says, ignoring Fury’s last remark.

“I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore.” He says while opening a case containing three chips.

“What's that?” you and Sam ask at the same time, glancing at each other.

“Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet,” Hill says, turning her computer around and showing you “they'll triangulate with Insight satellites becoming fully weaponized.”

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury cuts in.

“One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational” she hesitates for a moment “a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We need to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left-” Fury gets cut off by Steve.

“We're not salvaging anything.” he says sharply. “We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” Fury says defensively.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends.” Steve has his Captain voice on and you know there's no room for discussion. “SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Nobody else says anything, just watching back and forth from Fury to Steve.

“And how many paid the price before you did?”

“Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Fury says after a moment.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” He's almost glaring now. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”

“He's right.” Hill simply says, nodding.

Fury looks at Natasha, but she simply stares back and he knows he’s not gonna have any help from her, so he turns to you.

“You’re okay with this, Agent?” he asks you and you don’t even have to think twice about it.

“We took an oath to protect people, Fury.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “If taking down Shield does that, and I believe it does, I’m game.” you shrug. 

He then turns to the last person in the room.

“Don't look at me.” Sam says, also shrugging. “I do what he does, just slower.”

You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.

“Well,” He starts, sitting back and sighting, looking at all of you before staring back at Steve. “It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.”

After you make our plan, Steve goes outside for some air. You and Sam watch him leave, then look at each other, a silent question hanging between you two.

“You go.” you tell him and he nods before following after the supersoldier.

When you turn around you’re met with Fury and Hill’s curious looks and Natasha’s smirking face.

“What?” you say annoyed, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“You and Wilson, huh.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Romanoff.” you tell her as you sit back down. “He’s a nice person, you know as well as I do how rare it is to find that in our line of work.” your gaze shifts to the table but you can still feel their gazes on you.

“You couldn’t have known, YN.” Fury says, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes snap up to his, he's never called you by your first name.

“I should’ve, Nick.” you exchange the favor. “All the closed meetings, all the shady attitudes… I should’ve seen it. I’m trained to see it.” you're frustrated with yourself, with all the adrenaline out of your body now you’re left only with guilt.

Surely if you’d have seen it sooner you could’ve done something. Maybe the outcome would’ve been different.

“They tricked all of us.” Nat says, glancing at Fury and resting her hand on your shoulder.

“You’re a good agent,” Hill interjects, “don’t doubt yourself because of those traitors.”

“You’re right.” You nodded after a moment, putting your hand on top of Nat’s on your shoulder and looking back at Fury. “You’re all right.”

As you finish the details of the plan, only one thing is missing.

“How do we get the Director there?” Hill asks after Sam joins you, informing you that Steve went looking for a uniform, whatever that means, and would meet you there.

“Uh, I have an idea.” you says, leaning back in your chair and smirking.

They all suit up and leave after making sure your comms work.

“Be careful.” you hug Natasha before they leave “All of you.” you add looking over her shoulder at Hill that nods and Sam that grins and then winks at you.

You go back to the room where Fury is and he asks, “So where’s our ride?”

“On its way.” you simply say, checking your phone.

You can hear the others through the comms as they meet up with Steve, his own voice coming to your ear as he puts his own earpiece in.

“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.

“Awe, you miss me already, Cap?” you say and can hear the other’s laughter.

“You wish.” you can practically hear his eyes rolling.

“I do wish.” you answer, laughing. “I’m with Fury, don’t worry we’ll be there in time.”

You’re both suited up too when you hear loud noises coming from outside, Fury gives you a confused look but you just smile and wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you lead the way to the roof.

A helicopter lands and the pilot gets out and makes his way towards you, shaking your hand before heading downstairs where a car is waiting for him. You make your way to the pilot’s seat and Fury takes the co-pilot’s seat.

“Where did you even get this?” He questions you after putting on the headphones while you start the helicopter, ready for take off.

“You’re not the only one with connections, Director.” you answer, glancing at him with a smile and can hear him laugh next to you.

The whole time you can hear the team’s conversation, everything’s going according to plan thankfully, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet.

Just as you hear Natasha say “don’t worry, company’s coming” to who you assume is Pierce you land the helicopter on the landing pad.

You and Fury make your way inside and Pierce is nothing short of surprised at seeing Fury alive, much to your delight.

“Did you get my flowers?” he says sarcastically and, when Fury only glares at him, he turns his attention to you. “Agent.”

“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.

“I'm glad you're here, Nick.” he turns his attention back to him.

“Really? Cause I thought you had me killed.”

“You know how the game works.” Pierce says, as calm as a sociopath.

“So why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury has to know.

“Cause you were the best and the most ruthless person I ever met.”

“I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you know where I learned that?” He doesn’t give him time to answer, clearly enjoying his evil mastermind speech. “Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick, if you have the courage to take it.”

“No,” Fury says, taking Pierce to the retinal scanner, guns on him from both Nat and you “I have the courage not to.”

“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.

“You don't think we wiped your clearance from the system?” Pierce says smugly.

“I know you erased my password, probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” he takes off his eyepatch to reveal his scarred eye and you grimace. “you need to keep both eyes open.” 

They both look into the retinal scanner, with Fury using his injured eye.

“Alpha Level confirmed.” The computer says “Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.”

You can hear Steve and Sam talking in your ear as you hold Pierce at gunpoint while Nat finishes uploading the files online.

Sam saying to Steve that he’s heavier than he looks makes you smile, Steve answering “I had a big breakfast” makes you almost snort because Sam made him that breakfast, but you stay professional.

You hear Sam apologizing to Steve after being grounded, his suit broken, and then Maria telling Sam that Rumow’s heading your way. Sam says he’s on it and then you hear Steve trying to plead with Bucky before he starts fighting him.

“Done.” Natasha finally says “And it's trending.”

Just then Pierce sets off the pins he gave the council members, causing it to burn a hole into them. You, Natasha and Fury point your guns at Pierce but he turns to Natasha.

“Unless you want a two inch hole in your sternum, I'd put that gun down.” Natasha doesn't back down though “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.” 

You all reluctantly lower your weapons.

You can hear Sam saying “Man, shut the hell up” and frown, then you hear him fighting probably with Rumlow and you sincerely hope Sam lands some good punches.

“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asks into his radio.

“Sixty-five seconds to satellite link. Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now.” you hear the response.

You hear Hill counting down too. “Thirty seconds, Cap!”

you can hear Steve get out a strangled “Stand by.”

You hear him struggle, then he says “Charlie-” but gets interrupted by a gunshot and you hold your breath, already imagining the worst and barely hearing Pierce talking into his radio.

Just as they’re about to give the order to fire you hear Steve again saying “Charlie locked.” and you feel like all three of you let out a breath of relief at the same time. Although your relief is short lived as you hear Steve telling Maria to fire.

You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.

“What a waste.” Pierce says, disgusted at the sight in front of him.

“Are you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?” Nat says as smugly as she can with an active weapon pinned to her chest, but Pierce is having none of it.

“Time to go, Councilwoman.” he grabs her arm “This way, come on. You're gonna fly me out of here.”

“You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.” Fury tells him as they start to leave.

“You already did.” Pierce glances back at him “You will again when it's useful.” before he can even finish the sentence Natasha activates a small disc that emits an electric shock through her whole body and disables the pin, giving you a chance to kick the phone out of Pierce’s hand while it reboots. 

Fury takes this time to pick up a gun and shoots twice at Pierce, then walks over to you as you kneel next to Natasha who’s unconscious on the floor.

“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”

“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.

She slowly opens her eyes. “Ow.” she lets out, before looking up at you two. “Those really do sting.” 

You let out a breathless laugh and help her up, glancing back at Pierce dying behind you, a quiet ‘Hail HYDRA’ coming out of his mouth.

You help Natasha into the helicopter, before taking the pilot’s seat again, Fury next to you.

“Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!” you hear Sam say.

“Sam, where are you?” Natasha asks him as you try to look around for him.

“41st floor, north-west corner!” he sounds like he’s out of breath.

“We're on it, stay where you are.” You say, making your way to him.

“Not an option!” You can hear him pant like he’s running and as you look up you see him jumping out a window, so you tilt the helicopter just enough to allow him to slide in through the door sideways, and then you straighten just as fast, getting out of there just in time as the whole building comes down.

“41st floor! 41st!” Sam yells once he’s caught his breath.

“It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” You yell back at him while glancing behind you as he glares at you.

“Hill, where's Steve?” Natasha says in the comms “You got a location on Rogers?”

You fly around the wreckage, all of you trying to locate Steve although it feels almost impossible with all the damage left by the Helicarriers. 

How can you find him? How could he even be alive after not only that fall, but all of the pieces still falling from the sky? He could’ve been knocked out, he could be at the bottom of the Pontomac, slowly drowning-

“There!” Sam interrupts your pessimistic thoughts as he yells and points at a figure along the shore of the river. “That’s him!”

You land as close as him as you can, running out with Sam beside you, Nat and Fury a little behind. As you get close you see that it is indeed Steve, kudos to Sam for his falcon eyes. 

The more you get close the more you worry, he looks bloody and beaten. When you’re finally kneeling next to him, you’re praying that he’s alive.

Sam’s hand flies to his neck and you can tell he lets out a relieved sigh, before turning to you. “He’s got a pulse.” he says and you mirror his action.

You pick him up together and take him to the helicopter, placing him inside while Nat takes the pilot’s seat this time and goes straight to the hospital.

-

With Steve being in the hospital and Fury being technically dead, the joy of being summoned at a committee hearing falls on you and Natasha. After being sworn in, the Committee General asks the first question.

“Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?” You and Natasha look at each other and she answers.

“We don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country's expected to maintain its national security now that he, and you, have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”

“HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence.” you interject.

“Many of which you both seem to have had a personal hand in telling.” you hate to admit it but he’s got you there.

“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service record, both for this country” Scudder then looks directly at Nat “and against it, that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” he says and it takes everything in you not to snap at him as you clench your jaw.

Natasha can see it in your face as you look at each other, so she goes ahead and talks first.

“You're not gonna put me in a prison.” her eyes are still on you “You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?” You know she's asking you to finish her sentence.

“Do enlighten us.”

“Because you need us.” you say without missing a beat, looking away from Natasha and directly into the man’s eyes. “Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it.”

“So if you want to arrest us, arrest us.” Nat says after a pause.

“You'll know where to find us.” you finish. 

You both get up and walk out, exchanging a small smile that's quickly hidden for the benefit of the cameras.

-

A few hours later you and Natasha get to the cemetery just as Fury’s walking away, smirking at each other when you catch the end of his sentence.

“You should be honored, gentlemen.” you say as you get closer.

“That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Natasha finishes for you.

“Not going with him?” Steve asks you as he meets you halfway.

“No.” you both say at the same time.

“Not staying here?” only Natasha answers this time.

“Nah. I blew all my covers,” she glances at you “I gotta go figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while.” he points out.

“I'm counting on it.” She smiles. “That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She hands Steve a file. “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”

“She's not a nurse.”

“And you're not a SHIELD agent.” you say and he smiles.

“What was her name again?” he asks.

“Sharon.” Natasha says and you add. “She's nice.”

Natasha kisses Steve on the cheek, hugs you and when she turns to walk away, he looks at you.

“Your face looks better.” you notice. “Well, as good as it can look, considering...” you trail off vaguely motioning to his face with a fake disgusted look and he laughs.

“Yeah, the serum can only do so much.” you laugh too, but then you hear Natasha and you both turn to her.

“Be careful, Steve.” she tells to him “You might not want to pull on that thread.” 

And with that, she’s gone.

“You’re not going with Nat?” he asks you as you turn back to him.

“I figured you might need a hand.” you nod to the file in his hand and Steve opens it as Sam walks up to you guys while you steal a glance yourself at the photo of Sergeant Barnes in it.

“You're going after him.” Sam says and it's not a question, it's a statement.

“You don't have to come with me.” He says, his eyes on the file.

“I know.” Sam says, after a moment of silence you finally look away from the photo of 40s Bucky and you see both men looking at you expectantly.

“Chasing a 96 year old brainwashed assassin?” you says, a smile starting to grow on your face “Sounds fun.” you state and Steve nods.

“Really?” Sam deadpans. “What are your weekends like, YLN?”

You only smirk at him in response, then you both turn your attention back to Steve, his eyes back on the file.

“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Weeks 193 & 194

Welcome to weeks 193 & 194

A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 30 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

I Will Always Wait For You - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Made for Me - epilogue - (Bucky x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Crossing the Line - (Bucky x Reader) - @thestarkinternship

Invitation - (Steve x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Two Flames - (Steve x Reader) - @labella420

In the Court of the Shield and Star - Chp 1 - (Steve x OFC) - @hollybee8917

Nurse - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Hero’s Welcome - (Steve x Reader) - @labella420

Second Hand - (Steve x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Double Trouble - (Stucky x Reader) - @marvelavengerspovs1

Exhibition - @nekoannie-chan

Housewarming - (Steve x Reader) - @the-iceni-bitch

Hello - (Steve x Reader) - @cockslutpadalecki

Unintended Encounters - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

All His - (Curtis x Honey) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Sergeant Snuggles - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Fugitive - (Steve x Reader) - @lokischambermaid

Daily battle - @nekoannie-chan

Everything You Want - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Cuddle bug - (Steve x Reader) - @nicoline1998enilocin

What did I forget? - (Brock x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Make A Wish And Blow … - (Steve x Reader x Bucky x Brock) - @americasass81

Recognition - Part 4 - (Captain Hydra x Reader) - @labella420

TOL - I'm your daddy now (2) - (Lloyd x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Seasons Stuffies - (Bucky x Reader) - @rookthorne

Built Differently - Full of Surprises - (Stucky x Reader) - @rookthorne

Collared part 37 - @spnexploration

Collared part 38 - @spnexploration

Finding Home (3) - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet - Chp 5 - (Curtis x Honey) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

[ramp-it-up]

Taste

Pairing: Mob Boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic); Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic); Brock Rumlow x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: around 4K

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Childhood hoods, childhood crush, childhood nicknames based upon appearance, young Brock, Steve, Bucky and Sam, skinny Stevie Rogers, sibings being sibings, bratty behavior, Angst, allusion to underage drinking and crime, toxic parents, protective bothers, allusions to underaged drinking, bratty behavior, a punch in the nose (accidental), bloody nose, shirtless Sam, kind of innocent reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) loss of virginity, pain during sex, p in v, raw sex (wrap it or don’t tap it), praise kink, after care. This entire fic is comprised of two flashbacks.

A/N: This is in the same AU Try a Little Tenderness and The Representative, and comes directly after Addicted To You. The AU is called This Thing of Ours.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were ten years old, it was 2002, and you were spending the summer in Brooklyn at your father’s house. 

It was long before the mob war that he created which separated your brother Brock from his best friends. 

And it was a time that would change you forever.

The July afternoon was hot and so was the block. Music was blaring from the speakers of someone’s radio and there was a buzz in the air: adolescence, ambition and a potential for violence. 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book/Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up/Where them gangstas at?/ Where them dimes at?/They shootin'! Aw, made you look

They called you Bunny because of your teeth and your size. But you were a scrapper and could stand up for yourself. Your father taught you that. 

You also had a smart mouth, and roasted anyone who dared talk about you or your family. 

Your mother taught you that. 

When you came to your father’s house while your mother took her annual girls trip that summer, you found that your big brother was suddenly different. Gone was the quiet gangly 12 year old who drew up plans for world domination in composition books in his room; a wiry 13 year old who had friends who were just as scrappy and hungry as he was had taken his place.

Little Stevie Rogers never backed down from a fight. That’s where his best friend Bucky Barnes came in, backing him up when Stevie was against the wall. Brock was the kid with vision, the one who had a plan to get them where they wanted to be.

In power.

Your brother tried to ignore you, but you trailed after him because there was nothing better to do. One day, you sat in the stoop and watched him and his friends working to open the fire hydrant across the street from your dad’s house.

Your brother felt your eyes on them as you hugged your knees.You were a sight, bushy hair, glasses, braces, and an intense look on your face. He felt bad. 

For a second.

“Why don’t you go on over there and play dolls with Shandy and “n’em, Bunny?”

You glanced over at the girls playing on the next stoop, their braids wilting in the sun. They were playing with stiff dolls with stiff plastic hair and legs that didn’t bend. Not your scene.

You just poked your tongue out at him and moved to stand in the water now dripping out of the hydrant, your strawberry sneakers with the bows getting drenched. You smiled down at them, thinking of how mad your mother would be.

“Aw, c’mon Brock. She ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Let her have some fun.”

Bucky’s blue eyes shone down at you and you pushed up your glasses and looked up at him, squinting in the sun. Stevie’s bony elbow bumped into yours as you hopped to avoid the bruising gush of water along the pavement as they succeeded in their quest.

“Sorry.”

Stevie smiled at you. He really was a nice boy, even though he was pugnacious. Bucky was a smart ass, however.

“You don’t want her to melt, do ya? Your old man would skin you alive.” 

Stevie and Bucky laughed as Brock scowled. He didn’t have time for benevolence or little sisters. He had plans. He shook his head.

“Focus. We gotta stick with the plan. Sammy Wilson is coming over to talk about what’s happening tonight, and she doesn’t need to be around.”

You flipped Brock off behind Bucky and Stevie’s back, and he just scowled harder at you. No matter what you did, he didn’t engage with you like you wanted him to. How boring.

Bucky whistled. 

“Wilson is fast. That dude can run his ass off.”

Sam was on the track team at the high school down the block.

“I can beat him.”

Stevie puffed his bird chest out and Brock and Bucky laughed at him. You felt bad. 

“I believe you Stevie.”

He grinned at you and ducked his head.

Brock rolled his eyes and you flipped him off.

He pointed back at you.

“I’m sick of you. I’m telling Dad.”

You thrilled at the attention.

“Go ahead, I’ll tell him what you’re up to.”

Brock grabbed you by the shirt, snarling.

“You better not say a fucking word.”

You pulled away and landed on the pavement, your knee skinned. You kneeled, bending over to look at it, and to keep your tears inside, when you heard the voice of an angel.

“Need some help?”

You looked up into a face haloed by the sun. You reached for the hand that was offered and stood up to look into the face of 14 year old Sammy Wilson. And you were done for.

That gap tooth smile, those eyes. That skin.

You stared at him as you registered laughter around you. Sam spoke again.

“You okay?”

He seemed like he really wanted to know how you were.

“Y-yeah.”

He chuckled.

“You better clean that off.”

Sam took your hand and led you back over to the hydrant. He kneeled down, cupped water in his hand and cleaned off your knee.

“Sssssss!” 

It stung.

“Sorry. But it’s for your own good.”

You felt warm, and not just from the heat, as you let him take care of you.

You stared at him as he finished.

“That’s the best I can do. You need to get a band-aid.”

“Okay.” 

You would do anything he said. Sam looked up at you and it was like the air was sucked out of your body. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but it intrigued you.

“No problem. I got a little sister at home. Sarah. Just looking out. You gotta be careful.”

He smiled as he stood up and walked away. 

You watched him move over to the other boys, forever changed because that’s when you fell in love with Sammy Wilson.

You spent that last summer in Brooklyn as the unofficial mascot of the Savage Crims, the newest gang on the block. Steve, Bucky, and Sam adopted you and you became scout, lookout, and spy. It was the best summer of your life.

Your mother moved to Los Angeles that fall and took you with her. She started dating more legitimate businessmen, meaning the same type of men as your father, just with generational wealth and privilege.

It was a different world than New York. You went to fancy private schools and learned how to play the game. You were now a “friendly black hottie,” sidekick to the main character in every scene. 

But you were smart. 

As you grew older, you watched and learned and played the part, and soon, you were running the game. By the time you graduated from high school, you were the center of attention, just the way you liked it. 

Your mother was engaged, and you and she were on the cusp of something she’d dreamed of her entire life: being iconic.

You started your first two years in college at UCLA, but you convinced your mother that fashion was how you would enable yourself to meet the best type of men, and that Parsons School of design in New York was the place to be. 

You acted as if you were uninterested in reconnecting with Brock, who your mom thought hadn’t contacted you in eight years aside from telling you that your father had died.

You convinced your mother that you wouldn’t venture off the island of Manhattan, and she believed you because she was in the midst of applying the full court press on her man.

The truth was, you and Brock kept in touch regularly, and you were eager to see your brother again. 

And his friends.

So you flew back East in 2012, 10 years after you left, butterflies threatening to fly out of your mouth as you landed at Laguardia. 

After a few weeks in the city establishing your dominance, you showed up at the boys’offices unannounced. He knew you were in town, and told you about how successful he was now, with the help of Bucky and Steve. 

And Sam. 

You were going to go see just how successful everyone was. 

And how lucky you could get.

“Who the hell is that?”

Bucky peered at the camera about the buzzer to the brownstone. Steve came over to look as well.

“It can’t be… Brock, c’mere.”

“What is it? We’re trying to work out this next shipment…”

Brock looked at the camera as Sam watched his jaw drop from the table.

“Who is it?”

“Fuck! That’s Bunny!”

Brock backed up as Steve pressed the buzzer. He opened the door to wait for you to climb the stairs.

“Stevie!?” 

Your excited shriek was muffled as the now beefy blonde picked you up immediately to twirl you around into the loft space.

You stood back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

“Wow! You have filled out.”

“I must have learned from you…” 

Steve looked you up and down when you heard a roar in your ear.

“Bunny!”

Bucky gave you a bear hug to where you couldn’t breathe. You pounded his back and punched him in the pecs when he let go. You caught your breath and then turned to Brock, whose eyes were shining.

“God, you’re grown up. You’re not my little Bunny anymore.”

“Shut up, stupid.”

You embraced your brother, surprised at your emotion. You were choking up, about to sob in his arms.

“I missed you.”

You whispered into his shirt.

“Missed you too, kid.”

You let him go and you dabbed at your eyes. You heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Sam standing next to you.

“Hey Sammy!”

You tried to make your voice light, so as not to betray your feelings. You’d replayed this moment in your mind a million times.

He was a man now. And damn. What a man. Tall, dark and handsome. But with that same smile. 

Sam tried to be cool. Brock was right. You weren’t little any more. A full grown woman. He tried to not check you out because he knew Brock was watching, but damn. You were beautiful. All over.

“Well? Can I get a hug?”

Sam unfroze himself.

“Of course.”

You seemed to melt into him, your breasts pressed against his chest, his lats seeming to mold around you. He could do this all day. 

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s raised eyebrow and he released you, stepping back and over to the table to try and pretend that all of his senses were not tuned on you.

“How’s Sarah?”

Sam smiled.

“Good. You should call her.”

You smiled back

“I will.”

Bucky interrupted.

“Tell me all about your socialite world, Ms.Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Rumlow ‘til I die.”

You locked eyes with Sam.

“Who does a girl have to screw to get a drink around here?”

You joked and the room fell silent.

“No one.” Brock deadpanned. “And you’ll wait another year until you’re legal.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, like everything is legal up in here.”

It was just like old times: you giving them all hell. Although Sam’s hell was different now. 

Bucky handed you a bottle of water.

“Thanks Buck!” 

You sat and crossed your legs across from Sam and Brock.

“So. How’s things?”

You four talked for hours, ordering pizza from Sal’s and shooting the shit. It was almost midnight when they drew straws to see who would take you home. Sam drew the short straw. 

Lucky him.

You rode in the passenger seat of Sam’s BMW, arms folded across your chest, an adorable bratty pout on your delectable lips. He’d been watching that mouth all night, torturing himself with visions of those in various places on his body. He was getting hard. 

Sam stifled a moan which he tried to play off.

You jumped a little when he growled at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”

You turned toward him, mad.

“First of all, I’m not a little girl any more.”

“Yeah, Right.”

It sounded dismissive, but Sam was really just agreeing with you.

“Second of all, y’all really drew straws to take me home?”

You glared at him as he laughed at your outrage.

“I’m not the little tagalong from years ago. I didn’t even need you to take me home. I could call anyone to come get me. To come get this.”

You held up your flip phone and indicated your body. Sam’s dark eyes took you in and felt possessive. Holy shit, he was in deep. 

“I’m sure you got lots of hardheads after you.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and looked back at the road as he drove to The Village.

“We’re busy men, Bunny. We got important work to do. Brock will be working for a couple more hours, Bucky is running the streets, and Steve probably has a date right now…”

“At 1 am? You mean a booty call.”

Sam continued, ignoring you.

“But what will never change is us protecting you. We’re family, Bunny.”

You pushed his head and he glared at you.

“Same little boys is all I see. Important crimes, you mean.”

You huffed back into your seat, your breasts bouncing in your spandex dress. Sam fought to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’ll show you a little boy. Don’t try me, Bunny.”

You turned back to him, batting your eyes, but your attitude on 1000.

“I’d love to try you Sammy.”

Sam had the urge to take you by the throat and slide you up and down his dick, but he just squeezed the steering wheel harder, trying to ignore you. 

“Hey Sammy.”

He sideyed you. Your voice was too sweet.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, don’t be a prude. I drank all the time in Europe this summer.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Europe, and I don’t give a fuck.”

You sat back in your seat, grumbling and frustrated. He would never see you as anything but little Bunny. By the time you got to campus, you didn’t even wait for Sam to park before you jumped out. He caught up with you, long legs gaining ground quickly. He grabbed your arm.

“Hey!”

“Let me go!”

You turned around and popped him in the nose by reflex.

“Shit!” 

Sam held his face and doubled over.

“Oh, my damn! I’m sorry Sammy. Let me see.”

“Stop…”

Sam pulled away from you and as his hands moved, blood spattered all over his shirt and the concrete below him.

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Sam was moving away.

“Just.. leave me alone. I’m okay…”

“No you’re not. I’m sorry Sammy. Come up to my place. Please. I’ll clean you up.”

Sam opened his watery eyes to see your remorseful face and let you lead him up to your apartment, up three flights of stairs. You took him immediately to the bathroom and you washed him up, giving him a wet washcloth and telling him to lean his head forward, indicating the toilet.

Sam sat down and did as he was told, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You sat on the floor below him and stared up at him, hugging your knees.

“I’m so so so so sorry Sammy…”

He looked at you, silent, and continuing to pinch his nose.

You stayed with him for 15 minutes until he stopped bleeding and stood up again, cleaning up a bit more. You felt so bad.

You stared at his shirt as he stood.

“Jeez, Sammy, take that shirt off, let me soak it.”

Sam remained silent, but took off his shirt.

You bent over to get some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, scrubbed the shirt a little, then soaked it in cold water.

Sam was watching your ass, almost feral at the fact that you were such a brat. You needed to be tamed. But you were Brock’s kid sister. He was so torn. 

“You can grab a sweatshirt out of my –” 

You turned around toward and stopped mid thought, mind blank at the sight of Sam’s shirtless form.

“Holy shit.”

Sam gave you a lopsided grin.

“You keep sweatshirts in your holy shit?”

You didn’t even hear the tease, just licked your lips as you stepped toward him.

“Sammy?”

Sam gulped and tried to calm down. But the look on your face was everything at the moment. He knew he probably should have, but he didn’t stop you as you entered his space. You reached your hand up to his nose.

“Are you ok?”

“I think so.” 

Sam reached up and manually shifted his nose. 

“Probably just broken for the third time. Been in a couple of scraps.”

Your fingers entwined with his and you brought them to your lips. Tears started to slide down your face.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry. I’m ok.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and then leaned back.

As you looked up at him, he whispered, “So damn beautiful, Bunny…” 

Suddenly, he was kissing your face, collecting your salt water with his lips. Then, he pulled away.

“What are we doing?” 

You began to nuzzle his palm, while your hands reached for his pecs.

“Stop thinking so much, Sammy…”

“Thinking’s what got us into this..”

You nodded.

“D’you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”

Your eyes followed your hands as they traced his chest, then his sternum down to his happy trail. His stomach clenched at the sensation. He was too far gone.

“How long?”

“From the first time someone tried to be with me sexually. I never really wanted to, I mean I’ve messed around, I can suck your soul out, but I’ve never wanted anyone inside of me.”

You were tracing his hard on outside of his pants, your face upturned now.

“Are you trying to say that…you’re…”

You nodded again.

“You were always in the back of my mind, Sam. I only want you.”

Sam tilted his head downward and captured your lips in a kiss, as though it were inevitable.

You both drew back and then your lips crashed together again, your bodies pressed up against each other urgently.

The kiss was everything you ever imagined and everything Sam didn't know that he wanted. Your hands went for his belt buckle. At that moment, Sam placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him.

“We can’t do this.”

You nodded, stepped back and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re one of my brother’s best friends. No need for you to pop my cherry or anything.”

You two stared at each other. Then you licked your lips. Sam cocked his eyebrow, trying to restrain himself from the animalistic urges your filthy mouth gave him.

“You little brat.”

Sam grabbed your neck to pull you close to him. He reached down to pull your skirt up and he rubbed your ass like he was trying to shine it. He then put both hands on you to spread your cheeks apart. Your wetness was evident in the sound. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed.

“Sounds like you really want this.”

For once in your life, you were speechless, and Sam reached down and angled your head up so he could look at you.

“I need you tonight Sam.”

You kissed him again and tried to get on your knees. But Sam stopped you and led you over to your bed.

“You’re the queen right now.”

You pulled off your dress and stood there in your bra and panties as Sam pulled you toward your bed to lay beside him, his hand caressing down the side of your body. 

He moved his fingers over the lace of your bra to find your nipple, and when it was discovered, he pinched it to see your reaction. The way your eyes closed halfway and your mouth opened was everything. He reached behind you to expertly unhook your bra and looked down on you.

“You're so beautiful.”

And he dipped his head running his tongue around the edges of your areola, making your nipple rock hard against his breath. Then, he started sucking in earnest, his huge hand going to tweak and play with the other. You threw your head back in earnest, the feeling in your cunt growing with each pull of his mouth. You started moaning.

“You mean to tell me…. That no one has ever… had the pleasure…”

Sam asked the important question between having his mouth on you. He couldn’t get enough.

You shook your head and furrowed your brow. It was taking you out of the moment. Sex was just a means to an end for you up until now.

“I suck them off, and they’re satisfied. S’not a big deal….. Ahhhhh.”

Sam stopped what he was doing to look into your eyes. 

“It is a big deal, Bunny. You deserve everything.”

Sam tenderly kissed your lips as he pulled your panties off, and then returned to your breasts. Tears slipped down your face to the pillow beneath your head as he finally parted your legs. His hand, led by his long middle finger slid down your wet, wet folds to play in your slick. 

“Mmmmmm. That’s that shit I like.” 

Sam rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations reached your nipple, causing you to arch into his mouth and hand. Sam’s fingers worked your clit and you could feel it get hard and plucky. You heard the sloshing wetness of your arousal. So did Sam. He pulled off to look at you again.

“You ever play with yourself?”

The look on his face was part possession and part genuine concern.

“Of course. But not this goooddddd…. Shit Sam. I just hit it and quit it…. Fuckkkk that feels good.”

Sam was plucking your nipple with one hand and rubbing your clit in expert circles with the other, watching the ecstasy on your face as you neared your peak. 

“C’mon for me now. Cum. right here in my hand…Yes…. That’s a girl…”

It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Holy mother of……ssshhhhhhiiiiittttt! Sam! Fuckkkk fuck fuck fuck!”

You tried to grab his hand to move it away, but he was strong. Oh so strong. He didn’t stop.

“Sam… I… Sam stop..I can't…”

“You can, and you will. Take it. You’re tough. You can take it.” 

You convulsed as your pulses slowed down and you tried to relax.

“That’s a girl. Just give it to me. Let me have it. Love that shit. You’re beautiful right now, you know that?”

You calmed under his praise and got into the groove of his pleasure.

Sam’s fingers started exploring you, one of them sliding easily inside you, so he added another, but when he reached the second knuckle, you clamped down hard.

“Shit, Bunny. You’re so so tight.”

Sam looked at you with lust and you could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, his precum making a mess.

“Thought that first one would have loosened you up. Looks like you need at least one more.”

Your eyes grew wide as he slid down your body, fingers still inside you, but now his mouth clamping around your clit, which was still sensitive. Your knees closed around his head and he pried them off with one hand.

“Take it Bunny. You deserve.”

It was the last thing he said before he destroyed your soul with his mouth. He licked and sucked and lapped, and his fingers slid inside you and curled the spark of pain muted by the fireworks behind your eyes as you came harder than you ever had in your life, including a few minutes earlier.

“Hnnnnh, hunnnnnnhh. Sam…”

He was kneeling up now, grabbing for his pants and a condom. When you saw the foil packet, you stopped him.

“No Sammy. Wanna feel you.”

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Mom put me on the pill when I was 13. It’s like a vitamin now. I’m good.”

Sam nodded and his thumb went to your still vibrating clit as he swiped his head in your viscous slit. He managed to pop his thicker-than-you-thought head inside you, but you yelped in pain as he tried to slide in.

He leaned down, arms on either side of your head as you clutched his shoulders.

“You good?”

You nodded, tears in your eyes as you smiled.

“I want it, I need it. Give it to me.”

Sam looked at you, shook his head and smiled.

He slid inside you slowly, seeming to grow wider and longer with each inch that he gave you. The burning between your legs was soothed by his praise and tender kisses on your forehead.

“There you go.  Feels so so good for me Bunny. You’re doing so good. I can’t believe this… Make me wanna cum already. This pussy is so tight. And so good. Better than I’ve ever had…”

Sam relaxed you, and you began to enjoy that he was taking you apart. When your moans matched his thrusts was when he started to give it to you, his will power waning.

You were the epitome of desire.

He hiked your leg above his hip so that he could dig deeper and his thumb found your clit again.

“One more Bunny. Just one more…”

He felt you flutter around him and he gripped the base of his cock. 

“Sammy….”

“Yes… oh… fuck yes….”

“Ohhh! Ah!”

Your cream gushed around him as you came and Sam grunted and let go inside you.

“Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk aahhhhhhh ahhhh. Fuck!”

Sam felt like he his balls would never empty and he slumped on top of you, feeling your arms snake around him to hold him.

“Mmmm… Sammy.”

He could hear the smile in your voice. He leaned up off of you and kissed your nose, looking into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You smiled at him and Sam’s heart was gone. You had it locked up.

“Better than okay.”

He kissed you again.

“Stay right here.”

He went to the bathroom, coming backwith a washcloth and tenderly cleaned you up. You heard the bath running.

“You’re going to be sore.”

“Yes. I’m going to feel you for a week.”

Sam grinned and you saw his cock come to life. You smirked and gingerly moved ot get out of bed.

“Join me in the bathtub Sammy. Wanna try the wet and wild….”

Sam was hypnotized by the sway of your ass.

He didn’t think of the implications of what just happened. He’d had a taste, and his hunger was voracious. He just wanted you.

And that would become a problem.

Reblogging is always a good thing if you liked it.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Feels Like Tonight

Summary: You finally gain the courage to leave you narcissistic husband and fall into the hands of Tony Stark.

Word Count: 853

Warnings: mentions of abuse, gaslighting, running away, mafia au, rape, flangst, murder, smut, mafia au

“Yeah, that’s right, baby girl, just like daddy taught you,” Brock moans as he pushes deeper into your mouth, wallowing in the warmth that it brings around his cock. “Gods, you're so good to me.”

You try your absolute hardest not to cry as you can hardly breath at this point, your nostrils nearly coming in contact with his body the deeper he pushes himself.

Within minutes, your eyes were nearly impossibly blind as tears brimmed your vision, making you wish that your torture would end sooner rather than later. As he forced himself deeper down your throat, instinctively you scraped your teeth against him, causing him to lash out at you, forcing himself away from your attack.

“:You bitch! What did you just do?!” he glared down at himself, running his hand along the drips of blood. “I’m going to kill you for that!”

You had only moments to react as he lunged at you onto the bed. Luckily, you managed to roll away from him one second faster. Grabbing the lamp next to you on the table, you managed to crack the item against his temple, causing him to stumble back onto the bed in a daze. Taking the chance to leave, you grabbed your purse and jolted out of the bedroom. Fishing for your car keys as you ran into the garage, you kept a close ear out to listen to any noise that indicated your husband’s tread. 

You hardly started the engine before your car door was ripped open, the only thought in your head was your final breath as you gazed into the eyes of your once endearing husband, Frank Castle Brown, eyes full of hatred meeting your own fearful gaze as his hand squeezed your throat tightly. 

Waking up, you noticed the bedsheets were warm. The sun was beaming through the slits in the curtains. Wiping away the sleep from your eyes, you gazed next to you to see your husband asleep next to you, his face scratched up and scabbed over. Hardly remembering the struggles of the night before, you leaned over and swiped a soft kiss to his forehead, watching as his eyes fluttered open. For a brief moment, the soft expression of longing rested on his cheeks before the devil took hold of his bearings.

Flinging himself out of bed, he marched out of the bedroom, leaving you to ponder in your own thoughts. Memories swarmed back into your mind as you curled in on yourself, pulling your blanket wrapped legs close to your body.

You knew you had to get out of the house safely, without him suspecting anything. You knew you had to survive. Frank held friends and acquaintances all over the acuity; surely someone would know someone who would know another person that could help you escape the never ending nightmare that was your relationship.

You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didnt notice Frank had reentered the room with a bowl of cereal for you. Nudging you with his elbow,you met his now soft gaze before he leaned over and kissed the top of your head. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” he mumbled against your hair before patting your cheek lightly, causing you to flinch. 

Frowning, he sat next to you, never taking his gaze away from you. “Are you okay?”

Knowing what’d happen if you mentioned the happenings of the night previous, you swallowed your fear and nodded, carefully taking a bite of cereal. You knew you had to find help as soon as possible. Noting that your cell phone was on your bedside table on the charger,  you reached over for it before placing your thumb on the security tab. Trying to remain casual, you humed a small tune , knowing that he was watching every move you made.

“I’ve sent one of the boys to replace the lamp,” he leaned his elbow on the bed, his straw burning every inch of your skin. “I’m sorry about my reaction that last; the pain was unbearable.”

“I’m sorry for biting you,” you mumbled, barely glancing up at him.

“What do you say we go out for a morning stroll, hm?” He asked gently, gliding his fingertips against the outline of your thigh on the blanket before leaning over and kissing you.

“You stink like sex,” you tried to joke with him, not knowing that would cause a chuckle out of him in agreement.

“I’ll take a shower and you can get dressed, hmm?” He kissed your knee once more. “How does that sound to you?”

Nodding in agreement, you watched tensely as he pushed himself away from the bed and marched over to the connecting bathroom and closed the door, leaving an inch.

Looking around desperately, you quickly put a pair of jeans and a shirt on before locating your sneakers. Tiptoeing out the door, you quickly and silently made your way to the garage and slid into your car. Hardly waiting for the vehicle to warm up, you sped out of the garage.

Recklessly, you swerved in and out of traffic, hardly avoiding several collisions in your attempt to get away as fast as you could. The pain of the abused from the previous night started spreading through your panicked body. All of the abuse, the gloating, the gaslighting, you knew today was your last effort to find freedom. You knew you had to find solace soon, anywhere. Stopping desperately on the side of a busy city road, you rested your head back, not noticing the frantic vibrations of your cellphone that sat in the cup holder. 

You’d hardly noticed you’d fallen asleep until you heard a light tapping on you car window. Jump;ing in fright, you turned your head, only to be met with a worried man’s face in your view. Rolling down the window, you apologized and explained you were exhausted and you’d be on your way.

“You’re Rumlow broad, ain't you?” the man asked, eyes flitting over your features. “What’s he got you doin’ out on the streets by yourself, sleepin’, eh?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, fear filling your heart at the mention of your husband's name. “Do I know you?”

“Sorry, my apologies, ma’am,” he reached into the car window and held out his hand.” Name’s Parker, Peter Parker. I work for the man that runs the slums down here, ma’am.”

“You’re one of Stark’s crew?” You asked, a rush of panic flooding your body. You certainly didnt notice you’d fled into the enemy’s territory.

“Yes, ma’am, is everything okay?” He asked. “You look really shaken up. Is everything-” He became quiet when he heard his own cell phone blaring out. Never taking his eyes away from you, he answered his phone. “Boss, you know about Rumlow broad getting attacked by one of your own? She’s pretty shaken up and looks rough.” A moment of silence. “A’ight, I’ll bring her in.”

Feeling your eyes grow wide in realization, you shook your head as PArker opened the door for you before extending an inviting hand out to you. “This looks like a serious matter, ma’am, and you’d have to be a lunatic to come into Stark’s territory lookin like that, ma’am. He’d like to ask you some questions.”

“I can’t- my- my - Brock would kill me.”

“Ma’am.” He urged, nearly grabbing ahold of your arm to prove the urgency of the matter. Without seeing a way out, you grabbed your cell phone and followed PArker out of your car. Following him into a small shop, you turned to face the ground, desperate to not make eye contact with anyone in your sight. You’d be in deeper shit if Rumlow’s gang knew where you'd l;anded yourself.

Following the young man to the back of the shop, you noticed an entirely different atmosphere in the air; cigar smoke and soft music blared out. Taking a chance to gather your surroundings, you’d notice you’d landed yourself in the small den of your husband’s greatest enemy; Anthony Stark.

What the hell have I done?

You followed Parker further back into the place where you walked through another door, this time, the air smelled of clean laundry. You noticed the silence in the room immediately as you followed the young man in front of you.

“Boss,” Peter introduced as he stood to the side, extending an arm to the man himself. Not expecting the warmth of the facial expressions of the bearded goatee in front of you, you squirmed on your feet. “This seems to be Rumlowe’s broad, looks shaken up. See the marks on her neck there?”

Quickly looking down to hide the abuse, you shuffled on your feet, desperate to get the atten tiomn away from you. Instinctively, you flinched as Stark stood away from his chair, ushering the younger man out of the room.

“You need a shower,” he observed. “And a nice meal.”

“No thank you, Mister Stark.” you mumbled, shaking uncontrollably, knowing that it had only been the pair of you present.

“I’m not asking,” he urged gently. “Whatever Rumlow had done to you, I will make him pay back tenfold. I don’t care that you're broad. You deserve the decency of a loving husband.”

“Stark, you’re his ultimate enemy,” you argued with him. “The pair of you never got along. It’s always been on sight with the pair of you. I Can't let you threaten my husband this way. Are you out of your mind?”

“Takes one to know one,” he pointed out. “We’ve had a long history before you stepped into the picture, Y/N,” hearing him say your name caused a shiver to crawl down your spine. “I don’t care that we’re enemies; you need a good clean up and whatever it seems that he does to you in private cannot just be for entertainment purposes.”

“Stark, I shouldn’t be here,'' you swallowed a lump for fear.

“Are you hungry at all?” He asked, soft voice a mysterious concept to your ears. Shaking your head, you pouted. “Well I’m going to ask one of my girls to assist in bathing you and getting medicine for those wounds.”

Great, you thought, another demanding man. But you couldn’t argue. You’d been suffering pain for far too long in the relationship. You knew you’d help. You knew you’d be well taken care of in his care, not even knowing how you’d know that for a factual statement. 

Hours pass by and you’d notice how relaxed you’d been in Stark’s care. You’d been fed a wealthy lunch, listened to the softest of classical music, even spent time with his henchmen playing board games and watching a movie or two. You’d come to realize that you’d been on the wrong side of the war all along. You’d realize that the freedom you held in this moment was worth it.

But still, you couldn’t help but to feel as though Stark wanted something more from you. For fuck’s sake, the man brought you back to his own home, allowed you to bathe in his own personal jacuzzi bathtub, and met so many of his maids and butlers, you’d hardly remembered their names by the end of ther night. 

It was over a week that you’d finally seen Stark once more in his own barracks, dressed in finely pressed checkered suits and a hat to match. He’d appeared in your bedroom doorway, leaning on the wooden arch, looking as pleasant as ever. 

“Mister Stark,” you greeted, immediately standing out of bed and walking over to him. “I’d like to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s no need, Y/N,” his featured dorned a sly smile. “Your presence in my graces have been a pleasant surprise.”

“I’d like to thank you for all you’ve done for me, if I must?” You asked, pulling at his belt buckle, not knowing the outcome. The last time you’d taken a man first, he’d wound up smacking you across the face in a heated moment. 

“Nonsense!” He grabbed your wrist and brought it to his lips, his gaze never leaving your own as his lips swiped the palm of your hand. “You will never again be subjected to the torture and punishment at the hands of your husband again, my dear.” 

“What do you mean?” You asked.

With a merciful smirk, Tony clicked his fingers and a moment later, a man walked into the room, holding photographs in his hand. 

“Now before you take a glance at these photos, I should warn you, they’re gruesome.”

Nodding, you took the photos in your hands and shuffled through them; emotions flowing through you with each passing photograph. Bloodied clothes sprawl out onto what was once your wedding bed, the disfigured face of your husband glared out from another photo. Blood poured over another photo. Blinking up in disbelief, you felt a relieved smile pulling at the corners of your mouth as you lunged at Tony, only to throw your arms around his neck in gratefulness.