#Brock Rumlow fanfic

[e-dubbc11]

Thank you so much, Katherine! I had missed writing for Brock also, I think maybe I made up for it with this one 🤣

I’m glad you enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading and sharing my darling friend ♥️😘

Get Home Safe

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

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: Oh where to begin…well I guess first and foremost SMUT!(18+ PLEASE or I’m telling on you!) P in V protected sex, oral(F! Receiving), masturbation, couple of swear words, drinking, reader being a smartass(HI!), confession of feelings, and of course some fluff

Word Count: 4.7K-ish(little longer than normal)

Summary: Brock and Reader work for SHIELD. She has a massive crush on him and thinks she hides it pretty well, but she doesn’t. He, on the other hand, hides it very well until the whiskey hits.

A/N: Uh, none really, other than it’s been a minute since I’ve written for Brock and I’ve missed it. 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. 💕💕 💕

He stared at you from across the bar.

His amber eyes perfectly matched with the whiskey he was drinking. You didn’t really care for whiskey, you preferred bourbon and yes, there is a difference.

He looked like he had a tough day.

Both of you worked for SHIELD, however his job in Operations was more important than yours in Communications and EVERYONE knew who he was. Meanwhile, if there was a gun held to his head, he wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. You were nobody.

STRIKE team leader and one of the senior instructors at the SHIELD Academy of Operations, Brock Rumlow was mesmerizing to watch, as well as powerful, strong, and imperious.

Sometimes you’d go for walks around the training facility just to try and get a glimpse of him. Dressed in black from head to toe, his t-shirt clung to his muscular body like it was painted on. His defined arm muscles were tight like piano wire as you clenched your thighs together while watching him instruct new field agents.

A surge of heat rushed to your face as your heart began to race. You could almost hear it in your ears beating fast and hard like a bass drum as he firmly instructed his students while they sparred with each other.

Your mind wandered, daydreaming about what it would be like to have Brock’s strong hands roam all over your body, his thick fingers pressing into the soft skin of your outer thighs, and his tongue tracing down your stomach to your most sensitive area.

You weren’t even really supposed to be down there but you were drawn to him like a magnet and when he wasn’t out on missions, he was in the training facility so you always tried to get a peek when he was there.

Laughter erupted from down the hall, disrupting your trance. You quickly stopped yourself from biting down on your lower lip and hurried back toward your desk.

Brock rarely made his way to the Communications floor but when he did, you tried your best not to make eye contact but you would steal glances at him when he wasn’t looking. He had warm tan skin, golden brown eyes, days old stubble along his chiseled jawline, and dark brown hair, almost black.

His angry sex appeal had all the women on your floor talking about how badly they wanted him or what they would do to him, some of those dirty thoughts even made you blush.

You and your co-workers went out for drinks once a week and this was the first time you had seen Brock outside of work.

As he took sips of his whiskey, he continued to stare at you and one of your friends took notice.

“Rumlow’s staring at you.” Said Bailey.

You replied sarcastically, “Well maybe I owe him money.”

Of course she didn’t pick up on the sarcasm so she said, “Well, do you?”

“I was being funny, Bailey. No, I don't owe him money.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Well, then why IS he staring at you?” She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

You both tried hard to make it look like you weren’t talking about him.

“I haven’t got a clue.” You said.

“I see the way you look at him when he’s on the floor, ya know.” She blurted out.

Mortified and defensive, you replied, almost choking on your drink, “What?! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh you don’t know? Biting down on your bottom lip, looking up from your computer through your lashes hoping he won’t see you, eyes following his every move. But I don’t know what I’m talking about, right?” She said with a wide smile.

Bailey was one of your good friends so you really didn’t want to lie to her and you hadn’t told anyone about your crush on Brock.

“Ok, so what if I have a crush on him? It doesn’t matter. He has no idea who I am and do you have any idea how many women on our floor want a piece of him? They’re prettier than I am, anyway.” You said, looking down into your nearly empty glass of bourbon. “Look at him. He’s sexy as fuck and I’m…well…just…me.”

You took the last sip from your glass as Bailey gently touched your arm and said, “Sweetie, how long has it been since Oliver?”

Shrugging, you replied, “I dunno…a year and a couple months, maybe?”

“See, you need to get back out there! And don’t talk about yourself like that! You’re beautiful. You’re just a little shy, is all.” Said Bailey. “Let’s get you another bourbon!”

You shook your head vigorously. “No, no, no, I only have one bourbon while I’m out. Any more than one and it gets dangerous. Bailey…BAILEY!!”

**********

You managed to stop Bailey from getting you another bourbon and switched to beer. Brock continued to hang out with his friends and he was on his third whiskey.

The bar, a little more crowded now and a little warmer inside than you’d like it to be, so you told your friends you were going to step outside for a minute. The autumn air should cool you down quickly.

“I said I’ll be back; I’m just a little hot, that’s all.” You said.

About thirty seconds after being outside, you got a text from Bailey.

Rumlow just paid his tab, he’s leaving!

Shit.

He was on his way outside, you weren’t prepared, and you started to feel warm all over again. The door opened behind you and he stepped outside. Looking over your shoulder, he stumbled a little when he walked and searched for his keys in his jacket pocket at the same time.

The last thing Brock should be doing is driving.

“The hell is my bi-bike?” He grumbled, slurring his words slightly. “You se-seen my bike, doll?”

Doll.

Brock held the straps to his helmet in his other hand.

You couldn’t let him drive home in his condition.

God, even drunk he sounded sexy.

“Ummm, may-maybe you shouldn’t drive, Brock. It is Brock, isn’t it?” You asked, playing dumb like you didn’t know who you were talking to.

You tried to keep him talking while you ordered an Uber. Now you just had to figure out a way to take his keys from him and get him to take the Uber home.

“Yeah, yeah…that’s me. You’re that pr-pretty little thing that works upstairs in C-comms, right?” He asked.

“I dunno…there are a lot of pretty women upstairs in Comms.” You replied.

Brock shook his head and pointed his finger at you, “But y-you are the prettiest one, doll.”

Oh boy.

Quickly, you looked down at your phone because you didn’t want him to see you blush. The Uber was five minutes away so you decided to play a little dirty in the form of being extremely flirtatious. Bailey always said you could teach a class on flirting because you did it so well.

So you inched closer to him, making the gap between your bodies smaller and you only hoped he didn’t feel the heat radiating off of your body. You’ve never been this close to him before. He was even more handsome up close. His honey brown eyes looked tired and half open and you could feel his breath against your eyelashes with the smell of whiskey on his lips.

You lowered your voice to a breathy whisper, reached out and placed your hands on his muscular chest.

“Really, Brock? I’m the prettiest on the Comms floor?” You whispered into his ear.

Brock dropped his helmet; it landed with a thud on the sidewalk as his hands tightly gripped your waist and pulled you in closer to him. This wasn’t exactly the scenario you dreamed of at night.

You wanted his soft whiskey colored eyes to be focused on you, not half open with him slurring his speech like he was right now. But you loved having his hands on you.

You glanced at your phone once again. Three minutes before the Uber would be here.

“I do. I really do, sw-sweetheart. You’re the only reason I g-go up to that floor, ya know.” He said.

His confession made your stomach flutter and sent a restless shiver down your spine but you couldn’t let him know you had a crush on him too, not yet. He wouldn’t remember. Actually, he probably won’t remember any of this either.

“You had a lot of whiskey tonight, Brock. Did you have a rough day?” You asked in a high pitched sweet voice, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Ah, a little bit. I don’t really wanna talk about it, y/n.” He replied.

He knew your name.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a car coming toward the sidewalk so you had to act quickly.

“Would you…care to talk about it back at my place?” You asked with a wink. “My ride’s here.”

You managed to grab his wallet and keys from his pocket as you started to walk backwards toward the car, his hands still firmly planted on your waist.

“I-I’d lo-love to, doll.” He replied.

Just as he leaned in to try and give you a kiss, you opened the door, managed to move out of the way and pushed him into the car. You closed the door and before he realized what was happening, you aggressively banged on the window while you simultaneously picked up his motorcycle helmet.

The driver put the window down, you tossed Brock’s helmet, keys and wallet at him, and said, “Take him to the address on his drivers license, I’ll tip you an extra 20. Thank you! I’m sorry, Brock. I just didn’t want you driving drunk! GO!”

The driver took off. You watched as the car drove to the end of the block, stopped at the stop sign and took a right. Brock was gone and on his way home to sleep off the whiskey and you were happy you possibly saved him and others from getting hurt tonight.

Your only hope was that he wasn’t too upset with you.

After enjoying the rest of the evening with your friends, you went home to shower and go to bed. Only it was difficult for you to fall asleep because you couldn’t stop thinking about Brock. Did he make it home alright? Was he angry with you? Would he even remember what happened?

In the gathering darkness, you just stared at the ceiling listening to the cool autumn winds outside your window blowing the fallen leaves across the ground.

You would have to wait until Monday to see Brock again. Hopefully, he’d use the weekend to think about what happened and realize that you did the right thing by shoving him in that car and not letting him drive home.

Hopefully.

**********

The weekend went by fast as it usually did and before you knew it, Monday was here again. You were NOT looking forward to going to work today and the thought of running into Brock made you extremely nervous.

With your head down, you scanned your badge and headed straight for your desk without stopping for small talk with your co-workers. Bailey knew what happened on Friday because after you put Brock in that Uber, you went back inside, had another drink and told her everything.

It made you feel better to hear her say you did the right thing.

“Have you seen him yet this morning, Bailey?” You asked nervously.

Bailey shook her head and replied, “I haven’t but that doesn’t mean he isn’t here.”

“Great.” You said. “He’s probably furious with me. Not only did he confess he has a crush on me, but I tricked him and sent him home. Hopefully, he got his bike back at some point this weekend.”

“Sweetie, you DID do the right thing. That’s not how you wanted to share your first kiss with him.” She said.

You wanted to believe her but you couldn’t help thinking that Brock was angry and that you embarrassed him but you just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt or hurt anyone else.

You didn’t see him walking around your floor for over a week and you didn’t dare go down to the training rooms to see if he was there. You really hoped he was on assignment somewhere and not staying away because of you.

That was the last thing you wanted.

You always went to the same bar for your weekly outing with your friends from work. Scanning the bar as you walked in, you looked around for Brock but he wasn’t there. A few of his friends from the STRIKE team were there and as you took sips of your drink, you kept an eye on the front door, hoping that maybe he would show up.

But he didn’t.

At the end of your evening, you said goodnight to your friends, watched them walk away and just as you hit the button to order an Uber, the light turned green and the bus across the way took off, revealing a ruggedly handsome man, leaning against his motorcycle and he didn’t look happy to see you.

“I wanna talk to you.” Said Brock in an angry tone.

Feeling nervous but trying not to sound it, you replied, “So talk, Rumlow.”

“Come over here, doll. NOW!” He shouted from across the street.

You didn’t want him to think he could intimidate you or that he could snap his fingers and you’d do whatever he said.

“Say please and I’ll think about it!” You demanded.

Brock rolled his eyes. The street light he was standing under highlighted the gold in them while you watched as he glared at you with a narrowed expression. You know he didn’t like being told what to do. He was always in charge but right now you were holding all of the cards.

“Please, y/n. I really need to talk to you.” He said, almost shyly.

After checking in both directions, you slowly walked over to him to join him under the street light, next to his bike. Now that you were close, you noticed Brock let his beard come in a little more and he looked incredibly handsome in his black leather jacket.

“Ok, what’s this about, Rumlow?” You asked.

“You had no right to take my keys and shove me in that car!” He yelled.

You folded your arms protectively across your chest and couldn’t believe he had the audacity to say that to you.

“Oh I didn’t? Or are you just upset that I caught you off guard and bested you? You could have gotten hurt, Brock! You could have hurt someone else! You know this!” You scolded him.

Shocked at your words and tone, Brock replied, “I’m not a child, sweetheart!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t act like one!” You yelled back. “Ya know, you could have just said ‘thank you.’ Actually, you SHOULD just say ‘thank you.’”

A sly smile stretched across his lips but it quickly disappeared as his jaw tightened and his cheeks flushed with anger. Brock moved closer to you, his nose practically touching yours, while you glanced down to see his chest expand and contract like he was trying his hardest to not let his anger get the best of him.

“You make me nuts, ya know that?” He said.

“And I still haven’t heard a thank you, Brock.” You replied calmly. “My ride’s here, I gotta go.”

You climbed into the car, closed the door, and watched him fade out of view as the Uber drove down the street and toward your house, but Brock was waiting for you when the car pulled into the driveway.

“What are you doin’ here, Brock?!” You asked in a frustrated tone.

Brock placed his helmet on the seat of his motorcycle.

“I told you, I wanted to talk to you.” He growled.

Your Uber driver intervened.

“Are you alright, miss? Do you want me to wait with you while you call the cops?” He asked.

“Ya know what, why don’t you just keep drivin’, pal! Alright?!” Snapped Brock.

“Brock, stop it!” You said and then turned to your driver. “Really, I’m fine. It’s ok.”

The driver acknowledged you were ok and drove away, leaving you and Brock standing in the driveway, alone. His eyes softened and the tension left his lips.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Can we please just talk?” He begged.

Starting to walk toward the door, you turned to Brock and replied, “It’s a little chilly out here. You wanna come inside? I have coffee, tea, beer, liquor…all the things.”

“Whatever you’re having, doll.” Brock said softly.

You gave him a slight smile.

“I like having lemon tea after my nights out with the girls.” You replied.

He smiled back and said,

“Lemon tea, it is then.”

**********

You stole glances at him while he looked around. The way he ran his thick fingers across the back of your couches, staring at the pictures you had in frames everywhere, and the way his lips curled up into almost a kind smile when he saw a framed picture of you as a little girl above the fireplace on the mantle.

It was hard to believe that Brock Rumlow was inside your house, your nerves kicked in again and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks while the butterflies in your stomach started to fly in large circles.

Maybe hot tea wasn’t the right choice but it was too late now.

Holding two mugs of tea, you carefully walked over to him.

“Have a seat. Here ya go.” You said, handing him the mug. “Careful, it’s really hot.”

“Thank you.” Replied Brock.

Sarcastically, you asked him, “So…what do you wanna talk about? We’re having a lovely fall this year, aren’t we?”

Brock set his mug on the coffee table and replied, “You’re such a smartass.”

“Still waiting for that apology, Rumlow.” You said.

Brock decided to try and change the subject.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, y/n. Ya know that, right?” He growled.

Confused, you asked, “What are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t see you? Standing outside the training room, watching me, crossing your legs every time I grab someone by the throat and slam them down on the mat, biting down on your lower lip when I’m addressing the agents. I am trained to see EVERYTHING around me, doll! So yeah, I do see you.” He stated.

Busted.

Apparently, you weren’t being subtle at all if Bailey AND Brock noticed.

“Anything else?” You asked with a hitch in your voice.

He inched closer to you on the couch.

“Are you telling me that you didn’t want me to kiss you that night?” Asked Brock.

You felt his breath coast across your skin, all of your rational thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds in a windstorm as his intense gaze stroked over you like he was looking for a weakness.

“Not like that, I didn’t. You were drunk, Brock. Besides, I didn’t think you would remember it anyway.” You said.

Brock brushed his rough knuckles across your cheek causing you to exhale shakily.

“What about now, sweetheart?” He purred into your ear.

The way he was looking at you right now was difficult to resist but you didn’t want him to think he could just change the subject without giving you the apology you deserved.

“I…want…” You started to say.

Brock moved in closer for a kiss but you cut him off and finished your sentence.

“I still want that apology, Brock.” You whispered in his ear.

You watched his hand drop from your cheek to the couch before he growled as he stood up and walked away from you to cool off from you bruising his ego.

“Doll…YOU are the most frustrating woman!” He yelled.

Watching Brock seethe with anger only made him more desirable and you not-so-secretly loved getting under his skin.

“Just two little words, Brock.” You said softly.

Setting your tea on the coffee table, you stood up and slowly walked over to him. Brock was facing the wall, your lips close to his ear as his shoulders moved up and down in sync with his deep breaths.

He turned to face you, his lips ghosted over yours as he hissed in your face, “FINE! You win, sweetheart! You were right and I’m sorry! I was drunk and yes, I’m happy you cared enough to not let me drive home! Are ya happy now?!”

It was immediate that the wet spot formed on your panties and goosebumps erupted across your skin at the way Brock yelled in your face like that. Shocked at your own lack of restraint, your lips crashed against his as you pushed him up against the wall and quickly removed his leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor.

He covered your mouth with his own while winding strands of your hair around his thick fingers. You drew in a sharp breath as his tongue slipped between your lips to tangle with yours and you choked on your need for him before he pulled away.

“Most people are nervous around me but you’re not, are you, doll?” He asked.

He nipped down your jawline to your chin and left little love bites down your neck before his lips found yours again.

Visibly shaking, you replied, “Not right now, I’m not. I’ve dreamt about having your lips on mine like this.”

You felt his breath drift down your neck and shuddered when he replied, “Where else do you want my lips, sweetheart?”

Firmly pressed against his body, you could feel Brock’s hardening length against you, his hands tightened on your waist as a wicked smile stretched across his lips and he gazed at you with his warm honey colored eyes.

Only slightly teasing him, you replied, “Oh…I think you know.”

You didn’t want Brock to be gentle. You wanted him to take control and toss you around like a rag doll in every way he knew how. You weren’t just attracted to him because of his handsome face, you loved the harsh and commanding tone to his raspy voice, the way he possessively gripped your body and traced his calloused fingers across the soft skin of your stomach.

As shy as you presented yourself in public, you loved nothing more than matching feral energy with a man like Brock. He wasn’t wrong when he mentioned how you crossed your legs every time you saw him grab someone by the throat or bite down on your lower lip when he barks commands at other agents.

You loved it.

Pushing him toward the bedroom, Brock practically ripped the buttons off your jeans and tore your shirt in half. You pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing his hard as marble chiseled body underneath. You were right. His tight shirts didn’t leave much to the imagination to what was under them.

It was still hard to believe Brock Rumlow was in your bedroom, half naked, and feasting on your body like a wild animal. He traced his tongue along your collarbone and closed his lips around your nipple, ripping the air right out of your throat and making your voice disappear.

Tightly clutching the pillow underneath your head, your voice cracked as he nipped at the sensitive skin of your stomach, pausing just above your core before aggressively burying his face in between your thighs.

There was no mistaking that Brock was growling loudly into your pussy causing you to whimper at feeling him hum against your clit. Your fingers tangled in his thick dark hair, gently tugging on it as your orgasm began to build. Brock’s beard scratched at your inner thighs, making you wetter and ready to explode.

“Come for me, sweetheart. I wanna taste you.” He purred.

With your orgasm building steadily, burning heat merging in your stomach, your walls delightfully tightening while he continued giving you the tongue fucking of your life, sucking and licking at your overstimulated bundle of nerves like a man starved.

His strong hands prevented you from closing your legs around him as you hit your peak with his name fleeing from your lips. Your vision went shockingly white as he inserted a finger, turning your brain to pulp, and pumping it with rhythm, keeping you wet and ready for more.

With a piercing dryness in your throat and trying to catch your breath, you managed to shakily say, “B-brock. Fuck me.”

“That what you want, doll? Huh? Tell me again. Use those words, baby. Tell me you want me inside you…now.” He commanded.

You whispered, “I want you inside me, Brock…now.”

As you eagerly watched him remove his jeans, his cock sprang free and a smirk played across his lips as he watched your fingers replace his as you pleasured yourself, waiting for him to come back to bed.

After slipping on a condom, Brock watched you for a minute before you beckoned him back into your bed. He climbed on top of you, licked your own taste off of your fingers, captured your lips again, and slid into you with ease.

He pushed into you hard, making you cry out, and burying himself to the hilt. Brock fucked you rough and deep into the mattress, hitting just the right spot over and over again, capturing one of your breasts again, and biting down slightly as he listened to the strangled moans escaping your lips, and loving it.

The heat between the two of you is stifling but it only made you want him to be closer to you, deeper inside of you, and hitting that spot that made you see stars.

“I wanna hear you, sweetheart.” Brock commanded, his voice was ragged, and his fingers were digging into your hips. “Tell me this is what you wanted, y/n. All those times you were watching me, did you wanna be underneath me like this? Takin’ my dick like a good girl.”

A breathless moan fled from your lips, into his ear as you replied, “Y-yes, I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time, Brock.”

One of his hands gently wrapped around your throat like a necklace as you rutted your hips up to meet his and matched your movements with his. Brock continued to slam into you, each thrust brought you closer to your release, and the heat between you was almost overwhelming.

Your walls began to tighten around him, a low gravelly moan fled from his lips as his rhythm became quicker and desperate. He was close, the sinful noises you made into his shoulder were music to his ears as you tightly clenched around him with a cry of his name followed by his release close behind.

He collapsed on top of you. Breathing heavily, his lips crushed against yours once again as your fingers glided through his soft hair.

“Fuck, doll.” He uttered.

As you tried to catch your breath, you replied with a wide smile, “You’re welcome.”

Brock chuckled.

“Such a smartass, baby.” Said Brock.

He planted himself next to you, letting his fingers gently dance up your arm, and you brushed his beard gently with your thumb. Brock kissed the palm of your hand, closed the gap between your bodies and planted a soft kiss on your lips.

He could tell you wanted to say something.

“What’s on your mind, doll?” Asked Brock.

You really liked him and hoped he felt the same way.

“Does this mean I can still come down and watch you in the training room?” You asked with a shy smile.

He smiled back and replied, “You gave me a better workout tonight than I’ve had in a long time. Of course you can, sweetheart.”

The rasp in his voice was so sexy, listening to him talk was making you wet all over again.

“I like you, Brock…obviously.” You said, shyly.

“I meant what I said that night, y/n. I think you are the prettiest woman in Comms, probably the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. So obviously, I like you too, doll.” Replied Brock.

You straddled him and said, “How ‘bout you have a drink with us next week? I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

He cupped your cheeks and his lips collided with yours while his hands tangled in your hair.

Brock replied with a smirk, “Only if you stay with me, sweetheart.”

You kissed him back and said with a warm smile, “I’d love to.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @staley83

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @randomlittleimp

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!

[magicalqueennightmare]

Familiar Stranger

Brock Rumlow X Reader

Yall I found this abandoned in an OLD folder so 🤷‍♀️

When Rick's group is cornered by the saviors you offer yourself as the pound of flesh Negan is owed to save your people but a familiar face is amongst your enemies

You had no clue who these assholes were nor what their plan was for all of you. They had the upperhand, your crew was outmanned and outgunned. That knowledge mixed with looking down the line up at Maggie who was pregant and in pain, Daryl who had visibily been injured and Carl who still had so much life ahead of him even in this world was the only thing that made you go along with being told to get on your knees.

You chanced a look around trying to get some sort of an idea just how many were surrounding all of you. Your stomach felt as heavy as if a slab of concrete was settled in the pit of it. There were so many bodies, men far enough back from the headlights of the trucks parked throughout the clearing that all you could see of them were their silhouettes. Too many to count and far too many to fight.

One stepped in front of the line up leering at you before turning his attention to Rick. You watched his demeanour, how everything from his hair which was greased to the out of date mustache screamed pervert. If you knew you wouldn't cause harm to become of anyone else you would've been tempted to kill him for the hell of it. "Alright we got a full boat lets meet the man" He announced and that got your attention.

Your eyes followed him across the clearing to where the RV had been parked. He knocked on the side of it then walked back over to stand with some of the men obviously awaiting whoever was about to make their presence known. The door opened and a man walked slowly down onto the dirt. He was around Ricks height wearing a leather jacket and carrying a wicked looking bat over his shoulder that had been meticulously wrapped in barbed wire under other circumstances you would've called him attractive but at the moment your aunt's voice saying how lucifer was the best looking in the garrison rang through your ears as if she was sitting right next to you. "Pissing our pants yet?" He asked with a smile that you ached to knock off his face.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close" he continued as he started to cover the ground between where he stood and where all of you had been lined up for the picking. "Yup. Gonna be piss pants city here real soon" you knew all of this was an intimidation factor but you refused to cower when he met your eyes. "Which one of you pricks is the leader?" He asked skimming his eyes across your faces. "Its this one. He's the guy" Perv revealed pointing to Rick. Baseball bat stopped in front of Rick and smiled "Hi. You're Rick right? I'm Negan and I do not appreciate you killing my men" Negan took a breath then added "Also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people. You killed more of my people. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is"

Negan looked over all of you again before his eyes went back to Rick "but I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes" you felt bile threatening to come up into your throat. Negans words held an unspoke threat you knew was going to be horrible and bloody.

He smiled and took a step away from Rick "See Rick no matter what you do. You don't mess with the new world order. The new world order is this and it's really very simple so even if you're stupid which you very well may be. You can understand it. Ya ready?" He looked around then smiled "Here goes. Pay attention. Give me your shit or I will kill you"

He moved to walk down the line making sure to look all of you who raised your faces in the eye "Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now" you felt your mouth fall open in shock when he continued "You have shit. You give it to me. That's your job. Now I know that is a mighty big nasty pill to swallow but swallow it you must"

You met Michonnes eyes when Negan stopped in front of Rick again. She was scared "You rule the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe I get it but the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact you are pegged more so if you don't do what I want and what I want is half your shit and if that is too much you can make, find or steal more and it will all even out sooner or later"

He stepped back to look over all of you again and you tried to see Daryls face but he was looking down. Negan continued to walk back and forth down the line as he talked "This is your life now. The more you try to fight back the harder it'll be. So someone knocks on your door. You let us in. We own that door" he was in front of Daryl and you were finally able to see how pale your friend was.

Negan moved to be back in front of Rick "You try to stop us and we will knock it down. You understand?" He moved closer to Rick cupping his ear as if he couldn't hear when Rick refused to respond "What? No answer?"

He stepped back to address all of you again and by now his voice was grating I n everything inside of you. "You all didn't think you were gonna get through this without getting punished now did ya? I don't wanna kill you people. I want you to work for me. Can't do that if you're dead now can you?" You cut your eyes up hoping maybe there was someone you could at least insure the injured made it out alive until he added "But you killed a whole damn lot of my people. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that you're gonna pay. So now I'm gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you"

Your eyes flew from Rick to Glenn to Carl to Daryl then finally Maggie and Michonne. When you'd had no group they'd taken you in and had become so much more.

Negan held up his bat "This is Lucille and she is awesome" you took a breath preparing to get his attention on you should it come down to it. Then he said the words that you had already put together. This entire cat and mouse game was for him to pick who to kill.

He stared down Glenn then Maggie and Abraham before pointing to Carl "You've got one of our guns. You've got a whole bunch of our guns" he crouched down in front of Carl and you allowed yourself a moment of pride to see Carl was staring him down. "Shit kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little" "If you wanna kill someone get on with it. Hell I'm to the verge of volunteering to not hear you talk anymore" your mouth moved on its own over ridden by the aunt like bond you had with Carl.

Negan stood tucking the gun he'd taken from Carl into his waistband then walked over to be standing in front of you. Out the corner of your eye you saw the crowd of his men moving as someone worked their way through but you couldn't allow your attention to be split. Negan crouched in front of you and smiled "You are a god damn live wire ya know that? If looks could've killed from you I would've been dead the minute i stepped out. What's your name?" "Y/N" you all but growled and once again noticed his men moving around. He licked his lips slowly then nodded "Y/N darling it'd be too much of a waste to kill you"

He stood up and moved down the line and you suddenly had an urge to bathe. Someone holding basically everyone you cared about hostage flirting with you felt just dirty.

When he stopped in front of Maggie and said "Damn you look shitty. I should put you out of your misery now" Glenn hollered "NO" and jumped out of line only to be dragged back by the man with a half burnt face.

You fought every urge in your body to make a move towards Negan but you didn't for fear of harm becoming someone else. "Get him back in line" he spoke about Glenn then looked around "Don't any of you try that shit again. I will shut it the fuck down. It's an emotional time I get it so first one's free"

He looked at Rick who the gravity of the situation had appeared to have fully hit "Sucks don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit" a realization hit Negan as he pointed to Carl "This your kid right?" Then laughed "This is definitely your kid"

You knew Negan was trying to force a reaction from Rick who broke and hollered "Stop this" he turned to Rick and shook his head "Do Not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody. Everyone's at the table waiting for me to order"

He glanced back towards you and smiled "I got an idea" your felt your hands start to shake either from fear or adrenaline as he started "eeny meanie miney mo" pointing lucille at everyone in turn. You were praying for the first time in years. When he stopped in front of Abraham a small part of you felt a strange mixture of relief and guilt. "Looks like you're it"

He looked around before turning back to Abraham "You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell you're all gonna be doing that"

When he raised Lucille you screamed "NEGAN WAIT" He froze and looked back at you "Y/N would you like to address the class?" You met Carl's gaze then said "You want your pound of flesh. I get it. I've got plenty. Take it from me" he grinned in a way that was more predator than man "What are you offering darling?" You stood up ignoring hands grabbing at you "me for my people"

"Hell no" you heard someone say from behind you and froze in your tracks. You hadn't heard that voice since about six months before the world as you knew it came to a screeching halt. You turned slowly forgetting even Negan and the situation at hand momentarily. He looked almost the same as he had the day you said your goodbyes. His dark hair was a little shaggier but everything else was the same. He even still had that same chain peeking out his shirt collar, handsome enough it hurt and made you question your morals. "Brock?"

"Hey Doll" He spoke as if the world hadn't ended, as if he hadn't tore your heart out your chest and as if he wasn't on the crew of the men holding your people at gun point. "Hold up..Rumlow how do you know our little live wire here?" Negan asked his attention having been drawn from the prospect of bashing in Abrahams head to the drama clearly threatening to unfold.

"She was my girl before the world went to shit" his eyes never left yours as he spoke. Negan let out a low whistle which made you look back at him "Well shit..Y/N darling you're just full of surprises aren't ya?" Your head was spinning. All of this was simply too much. You could feel soo many eyes on you at that moment. Your entire group and half of Negans was staring you down. You knew his men were sizing you up while your group was probably just as thrown as you were.

"Well Brock seems your girl here has a set of brass ones. She's offered herself up to save her people" you spoke without thinking and flinched at your own voice when you said "I'm not his. He left me before the dead started walking. These people here? They're the reason I'm alive. My life is my bargaining chip and mine alone" you felt more than heard Brock move behind you and took a step to the side before he could touch you because at that moment you were certain just the barest brush of his hand would cause you to crumple and you had to stay strong.

"Rick what do you say? I mean I can kill Y/N but god damn a woman like that would be a fucking waste indeed or I can kill carrot top and take her as collateral to insure all of you hold up your side of the deal" dying you'd agreed to but there was no way you were being taken prisoner. You had seen what this group was capable of and from Brock being with them you knew he'd changed since he was yours.

Every one spoke at once. "I'm not a fucking trophy. You want me dead bash my head in but this ain't turning into capture the flag with me being the star role" you spoke staring Negan down you were sure it was a dying man's last hurrah but at least you wouldn't be on your knees. "He ain't fucking killing you Y/N" Brock sounding so protective over you made you fight the urge to close your eyes from the flood of emotions threatening to pull you under. You'd gladly trade it back in for the fear and disgust you'd simply been feeling.

"I ain't letting her trade her Iife for mine" you felt guilt flood through you for the moment of relief at Abraham being chosen over Carl or Glenn. "Kill me. These are my people. I'm supposed to protect them" Ricks voice was steady when he spoke but you could see the horror in Michonnes and Carls eyes.

"Enough of this shit" you all but growled and snatched the knife from the top of your boot seeing the flash of recognition in Brocks eyes. You put the sharp blade to your throat and leveled your gaze at Rick. "He wants one of us dead so I'll oblige him" Negan gave a sharp nod of his head and a shot rang out a half second before Brock was on you easily over powering you and getting the knife out your hand. You screamed in horror as Abrahams lifeless eyes stared across the clearing, a single bullet hole between his eyes.

Brock tucked your knife into his waist with one hand holding you against his chest despite your struggles. When your knees gave away he went down with you. "Here's the deal to all you shit heads take it or no one will leave here alive. Daryl and Y/N come with us. I like their spunk. All of you get to work and we will come to Alexandria next week for our first batch of goodies"

"Leave her and Daryl alone" Rick warned as was met with Negan pointing a gun at his head "Did I god damn stutter?" "Rick it's alright" Daryl finally spoke meeting your eyes and you nodded ceasing your fight against Brock. "We'll be ok" you managed and Negan smiled and clamped his hands together. "Well this has been a fruitful night indeed"

He looked at the guy with a half burnt face "Dwight take Daryl to the van" then looked at you "I'm guessing you'll wanna ride with Rumlow" you let Brock pull you to your feet and glanced back at Rick who barely nodded. They would fight somehow you knew they would fight.

Brock pulled you towards a dark blue truck and opened the drivers door "get in" you climbed in almost mechanically. Too much had happened in too short of a time from being hijacked by Negan and his so called saviors to the only man you'd ever truly loved coming back seemingly from the dead.

"Here" Brock speaking broke you out your own head and you realized he was holding your knife out hilt first. "Was yours first" your voice cracked as you took the ka-bar and slid in into place in your boot. He watched your movements before turning the engine over in the truck and starting to drive. A long silence stretched between the two of you befire he broke it by saying "Whyd you keep it?" You could feel tears prickling your eyes but didn't dare close them for fear of seeing Abrahams lifeless body staring back at you again. "It was the one thing I had left of you" you answered honestly feeling the tears flow down your face.

Brock opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it right back. You knew he was watching you with those eyes that were the color of whiskey. Just as warm and just as addictive. You had loved his eyes from the moment you met him. You leaned your head back staring up at the roof of his truck. After a moment his hand brushed against your leg and when you flinched away from him he let out a breath "I'm sorry about your friend but honestly I would've seen them all dead before you. I thought you were dead once already and I'm not reliving that"

"Too bad I wasn't" you replied and got a warped sense of accomplishment at seeing his jaw tighten at your words. "You'll be staying in my quarters. Was Negans idea to bring you because it's clear what those people mean to you and you to them but even if you hate me I'm going to protect you as much as I can"

There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to scream, to cuss, to hit him hell even jump out the truck but if your presence bought time it was worth it and you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't still have some sort of love for the man sitting across from you even if he was a virtual stranger. "I won't fight" you said and saw him relax a bit until you added "for now"

[mandyyvibes]

June bugs, even though it was barely May. He guessed maybe their sense of time felt as displaced as his, like the universe was playing some huge joke on both of them.

[lokiswifeduh]

Don't leave me

Pairings- Mob!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary- The aftermath of the shootout was here. And Bucky has to come to terms with the results of the life he introduced you to, and what revenge he would ensue.

notes- this is a part two to Doll, please. I hope you guys enjoy the ending!! Please let me know your thoughts!! Thank you for reading loves!!

Warnings- angst, talk of guns, drugs, kidnapping, abuse, torture. major gore. sad Bucky, hurt reader, hurt/comfort, gunshot wounds, medical talk, revenge.

WC- 3k

catch up here (part one)

masterlist

"Doll, please."

I saw her look up at me with those doe eyes. Those big beautiful eyes painfully gazing into mine. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to turn her away from the bullets that were sure to fly our way, but I couldn't move my hands. In this moment I couldn't protect her.

I felt the sob rip from her throat. There were only ten seconds left.

"I vowed to stand by your side, Buck." She looked back to the ten guns pointed in mine and her direction. I could see a stray tear slip down her cheek as her hands shook, her nails digging into her palm as she tried her hardest to release my wrists from the painful wire digging into them.

Suddenly she dropped the knife, jumping into my lap. Her hands wrapped around my neck as her legs surrounded the back of the chair, encasing my upper body. "NO! Doll, please!!" I felt her hit the knife in my thigh with hers, but I ignored the pain focusing on what in the world she thought she was doing.

The men cocked their guns. But in that moment all I could think about was how to get her off of me. I needed her to run, to fight back to do something. Not to protect my body with hers. I couldn't let her.

"Doll!! Stop!! Get up!!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as she tucked my head into her chest, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck, not letting me move a muscle below her. She shook her head, my tears soaking her shirt, mixing with mine and her blood. "I won't let you die." She attempted to shout but at that moment her voice was the quietest I'd ever heard it.

I tried to whisper back when suddenly shots rang out through the warehouse. My head popped up, prepared to die with the love of my life. I wouldn't let her do it herself. I would not live without her. Not if I had a choice.

But in that split second, I realized the first bullets that went flying weren't from Rumlow's men, it was from Steve, Sam, and my men, shooting at the ones who threatened us.

"Doll, we're gonna be oka-" But my words were cut short as two bullets flew into her. She screamed. Her vocal cords grinding together in the most painful way I'd ever heard. I felt my heart rip in two as her body shook against mine, arching her back as if that would stop the pain.

But she kept her head down, arms shaking yet still holding onto me. I would have cut my hands off if I had the strength to rip through the restraints. A sob tore from my throat, "Don't do this to me."

She finally lifted her head, my beautiful wife looking at me with such care and tenderness. As if she hadn't just been shot twice, and wasn't using all of her strength to hold onto me for dear life.

A small drop of blood trickled down the side of her mouth as her teeth were painted red. "I love you, James Barnes." She cupped my face in her hands, tucking me back into her chest as her grip seemed to loosen, "Till forever and always."

The words we both said to each other on our wedding day. "Doll, please." Her hold on me finally failed as she fell, but thankfully into the arms of Steve, before her head would've slammed into the concrete.

My second in command looked at both of us. Tortured and bloody. I held in my tears as I looked at Sam, leading a pair of medics through the door.

"Rumlow will pay." The wire from my wrists was snapped in half thanks to Peter, a new, very terrified recruit. I shot down immediately onto my knees, holding her head in my hands as the paramedics loaded my wife onto the stretcher. "Don't leave me."

I made eye contact with Steve, "I will have him and that traitor's head."

_________________

You lay in the hospital bed, your whole body practically wrapped in soft white bandages.

You could feel the pressure of something on your thigh as you tried to open your eyes. It wasn't working. Why couldn't you just open them?!

Try something else, you thought.

You moved your hands, the feeling of someone else's palm in yours made your heart start to race. You could remember little parts over the last three days.

Bucky was kidnapped.

Steve was put in charge.

You were kidnapped.

Natasha was working with Rumlow.

The torture.

The pain.

Your husband's face as you used yourself as a human shield.

Being shot.

Suddenly you heard screaming and saw bright lights. A heart monitor was beeping louder and faster at each passing second.

Realizing the screaming was in fact your own, you started to breathe harder. You finally could open your eyes!

Your surroundings were blurry at first. There was a familiar figure in front of you. Sounds were muffled but began to come back into focus.

"Doll?! Sweetheart, you're okay."

You shook your head, looking around in panic before realizing you were in fact back at home, in your bed. Bucky beside you. Your husband, holding your face in his hands.

"B-Bucky?" Your voice was raspy and your throat felt like sandpaper, rubbing together from underuse.

Involuntarily you started to cough, holding a hand up to your throat which only caused more pain in your back to bloom. "Ah," You groaned, swallowing before resting your head back on the pillow.

You felt Bucky's hands leave your body, but only for a second as he held a straw to your lips. "It's just water doll. I need you to drink this for me." You nodded, feeling a pounding in your head as you sucked down the refreshing liquid. The coolness soothing your throat like rain in the desert.

"Good girl." Bucky gave you a soft smile, taking the straw away from your mouth as you finished the water.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you regained your vision, looking around.

Monitors, medical equipment, and an abundance of flowers and cards filled your and Bucky's bedroom. Light shone through the window as you squinted, shooting over to look at Bucky who just gazed down at you worryingly.

You looked him over, seeing the cuts and bruises that adorned his face. His lip was split in multiple places. His thigh was wrapped in gauze and his wrists were bandaged. Looking down, so were yours. Actually, it seemed your entire body was.

"Are yo-," You swallowed, "Are you okay?"

Bucky took a moment before letting out a laugh. "You're asking me if I'm okay, doll?" You nodded, confused.

"Sweetheart you're the one who's been unconscious for three weeks and has two bullet wounds."

You twisted your hips a little, feeling the agonizing, shooting pain of the very real bullet wounds. Groaning, you whispered, "So that definitely happened, good to know."

Bucky ran his hand down the side of your face, sitting in the chair that was placed beside your shared bed. "I'm the one who's supposed to protect you, doll." You gulped, "I- I couldn't let you die, James."

Bucky closed his eyes, laying his head down on your thigh as he gripped your hand in his. "I would've rather die than see you in this state, sweetheart."

You lifted your other hand, running it through his untamed hair. "Don't say that, Buck." But his head lifted, making you notice his bloodshot eyes and the way tears streamed down his face in harsh lines. "I won't live without you, doll." He shook his head, a tear dripping onto the hospital blanket "I would rather die a thousand times over and over in the same painful way than see you in such agony, my love."

You held back tears, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breath. "I couldn't- no. I wouldn't let you die like that, Buck." You looked at him once again, "Not at the hands of Rumlow. Not because of me." "This wasn't because of you, doll-" "But it was!" You shouted, making you cough slightly, not used to using your voice for this long yet. "Rumlow took you because he wanted to hurt us- because he wanted me." You cupped Bucky's jaw in your hand, "Because I chose you." Bucky gulped, "I've never been so scared." You softly laughed, thinking of all the shootouts, drug deals, and interrogations Bucky went through on a day-to-day basis.

But he shook his head, hearing your chuckle. "Seeing him hurt you and torture you the way he did." Bucky's eyes went dark, "I've never wanted to hurt someone so bad just to ensure you made it out of there safely." You tried to speak up but Bucky kept going. "And look at you now. You're laying here, with two gunshot wounds, fingernails ripped apart, and a busted-up face."

Tilting your head, you looked at the mirror that stood in front of your and Bucky's bed; genuinely taking in your appearance. You in fact did have a busted-in face. Your lip was split. Your eyebrow was stitched as well as your nose. You had bruises covering every inch of your skin and your hair was in the worst shape you had ever seen.

Gulping, you looked away from the mirror, making Bucky take your chin in his hands, guiding you to look him in the eyes. "But you're still the prettiest doll I've ever seen." He moved, bringing his lips to yours in a soft yet long-awaited kiss. "My best girl."

It hurt to smile but you did, bringing your hand to his face, gently rubbing over the matching bruises that mirrored yours. "I love you, James."

"I love you, doll."

________________________

The next few days were agonizing.

You could finally stand up on the third day. But not without terrible pain shooting in every nerve ending of your body.

Bucky helped you with everything. From showering to cleaning your wounds. He was quite the nurse when it came to you.

But unfortunately about a week after you woke up, the violence hadn't ended. There were still some loose ends to tie up.

Slowly walking down the stairs and into one of the main rooms, everyone's attention went to your hobbling frame. "Doll?" Bucky sped over, Steve immediately pulling up a chair so you could take a seat.

As you sat down you noticed a large bruise on Steve's jaw. You knew Bucky would eventually be mad at him for not properly making sure you stayed out of the mess and violence of it all. But you were hoping it would've been a stern lecture, not a punch.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bucky whispered. The room stayed completely silent as Steve, Sam, and the rest of Bucky's men kept their backs turned, giving you two some privacy.

"I know you're planning to retaliate against, Rumlow."

Bucky nodded, taking your face in his hands as you fidgeted with the string of your sweatpants. Well, Bucky's sweatpants.

"I don't want you involved again, doll." He glanced back at Steve for a moment, "Not after what happened."

You shook your head, "I need him to pay for this, Buck." Your body shook with anger, "I want his fucking blood." Bucky was slightly startled, never seeing this much hatred in your eyes. You were always his sweet wife. You made the men cookies, and you organized charity events for the homeless shelter down the street.

Sure, you knew how to use a gun and fight if you had to. But seeing this much agonizing resentment on your face, scared him. But he knew you wouldn't let it go. He sure as hell wasn't.

So he let you know the plan, and what was going down.

______________

"Steve? We good?" Bucky touched the earpiece, hearing an affirmative. The mob had infiltrated Rumlow's mansion only one week later, killing every single man who stood in their way. Shoot on site. Was your husband's order as you and he waited to enter the mansion, making sure only Rumlow and Natasha were left.

Two of Bucky's men opened the doors to the mansion. The sight of the place made you cringe slightly. Soldiers were dead on the ground everywhere. Blood painted the floors and staircases like a stain.

"Top floor, back left bedroom."

You heard Steve's voice echo through the earpiece as you and Bucky made your way up.

His hand never left the small of your back, making sure you were covered at all angles with men following behind and in front of you, rifles pinned for every aspect of an attack.

"You alright, doll?" Bucky whispered, his hand on the door that would lead you to Rumlow. You nodded, ignoring the dull pain in your back. "I need this to be over with." Your husband kissed the crown of your head, nodding to his men as they busted down the door, guns held high.

But the sight in front of you made you smile.

Rumlow was beaten down, cowering in the corner of the room as Natasha stood in the corner, you could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear she caused you as she ripped your fingernails to pieces.

"Brock Rumlow," Bucky spoke in a deep voice, pulling on a pair of black gloves, before handing you a matching pair.

You slipped them on, hand placed on the knife that was strapped onto your thigh, just above the black jeans you had on.

Steve and Sam patted Bucky on the back, looking toward you with respect. "Have fun, you two." The blonde spoke, before exiting and closing the doors behind them.

"P-please, Barnes." Rumlow pleaded, "Have mercy."

Bucky was about to laugh before Natasha beat him to it. "Oh, please. You two really think he was the mastermind behind all this?" You looked over at the redhead in the corner, your former friend.

"If he's not, does that mean you are?" Your voice carried through the room, a newfound confidence making you raise your head high.

Natasha grinned, "And here I thought you never would've survived." You tilted your head, "Two bullet shots and I'm walking four weeks later." You pulled the gun from your other holster, "I can't say the same for you after this." You pointed it right at her forehead.

"Come here," Bucky moved forward, knowing you had Natasha pinned with the intent to shoot; dragging Rumlow up as two of his men held him on his knees.

"Nat, please. Do something." Rumlow begged, making you let out a laugh under your breath. "Do you think she's really in the position to?" You saw her move forward slightly, making you cock your gun, "One more step and I blow your fucking brains all over these white sheets."

Bucky grinned, loving this color on you.

"You really thought you could take my girl from me?" Your husband kneels in front of Brock, pulling out a knife from his belt. "What did you call her after breaking her nose? Oh, that's right, a 'lovely specimen."

Bucky's smirk dropped, nodding at the two men holding Brock down as they forced his mouth open. Brock shouted and yelled as Bucky gripped the end of his tongue, pulling it from his mouth and slicing it clean off from the base with his knife.

Brock wailed and cried as another soldier brought over a jar filled with a yellow liquid, opening the top so Bucky could drop the tongue in. He closed the lid, holding it up high as he watched Brock's mouth fill with blood. "What a lovely specimen."

"You two are fucking sick." Natasha, sneered, making you grip the knife from your own holster, throwing it and landing it right in her hand that was held in the air. She screamed, falling to the ground and back up until her back hit the wall.

You kneeled down, gun still pointed in her face, "Talk again and next time your tongue will join his in the jar." Your former friend gulped, nodding as you smirked.

Bucky gripped the front of Brock's shirt, making his back touch Bucky's chest as he held a knife to his throat. "Anything you wanna say before I kill you in front of your girlfriend, Rumlow?"

You laughed, slightly, making Bucky huff in humor. "Oh, that's right. You can't" He whispered the last part before slicing a clean and deep cut across his neck, blood pouring out as he collapsed to the ground, whimpering and sputtering in pain as he bled out, his eyes on you in fear as he eventually stopped moving.

Natasha looked back at you, still clutching her bleeding hand into her chest. You kneeled down, "Why, Natasha?" She shook with terror, hardly being able to force the words out. "Why did he have to pick you?!"

Your brows furrowed in confusion, "What?" Natasha scoffed, looking over at your husband, then back to you.

"Before you came along I thought he could love me. But then you showed up, taking all Bucky's attention. I never stood a fucking chance." You laughed, sighing before standing and walking over to Bucky, placing a hand on the back of his head before smashing your lips against his in a heated kiss. He groaned, biting your lip and making you moan into his mouth.

You chuckled, still holding the back of his head in your hand. You lifted your arm, perfect aim.

"No, Natasha. You never stood a fucking chance." One, two, then three shots rang out through the room as you planted two bullets in Natasha's head, and one in the chest.

Dropping the gun, you saw her body slump to the ground. Dead.

Bucky turned you away from the scene, bringing your face into his hands as both of you had unshed tears in your eyes. "It's over, doll."

You nodded, holding onto his hands as they held your face. "Can we go home, Buck?" He nodded, bringing your face into his chest as he walked you back through the house and into the car. "We're going home, doll. I'm never leaving you."

End

__________________

part one (read first)

masterlist

Taglist:

@yeahyeahyeah23-blog @rinniereads123 @shortnloud @julvrs @unaxv @sapphirebarnes

[e-dubbc11]

Giddy up! Soft and smexy, I enjoyed this ♥️

Blue Bonnets

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x Female Reader

Word Count: 1720

Summary: What if Brock left Hydra and retired on a Ranch?

Warnings: Smut & Fluff

A/N: This idea came from @americasass81 and my muse was happy to write it.

A/N 2: Thank you to @lfnr-blog-blog-blog for beta reading this. All mistakes are still my own.

The header was made by me.

Reblogs & Comments are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

The sun was slowly setting over the horizon as Brock sat on his porch and took in the beauty of it all. The bluebonnets were coming in nicely this spring and he wondered how long they would stay. If you had asked him years ago if he would leave Hydra for a simpler life, he would have laughed in your face. Hydra at one point was the only thing keeping him together and gave him what he thought was family. Time presented its moment and he learned of all the things Hydra was capable of doing and all the lives they would take. That was when he was done with them and took off on the run. Brock watched as you rode your horse back to the house you both shared. As you start putting the horse up for the evening Brock can’t help but reminisce on how he got here.

After months of being on the run, he was able to finally make it to a small town in Texas. He was expecting to pass through just like every other town he drifted through but instead, he found you. He remembers the first time he saw you. You were at a local bar with your friends dancing in your dress, cowgirl boots, and hat. He was at the bar in the corner watching as you swayed your hips to the country music that was playing. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and by the end of the night, he would have your number. 

When you were done dancing you made your way over to the bar. You ordered a beer as you tried catching your breath from all the dancing. Your eyes glanced around the bar and you spotted Brock sitting alone, nursing a beer. He was handsome in his plaid black shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, hat sitting low on his head, and jeans that were hugging him in all the right places. You grabbed your beer and slowly walked over to him.

Brock’s eyes never left yours as you slowly walked over to him. He took a swig of his beer just as you approached him. He placed his beer on the table and gave you a smirk. You then introduced yourself and sat down in the chair next to him. Brock tilted his hat your way and introduced himself. “I’m Brock, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You instantly know the accent is not from around these parts but you are intrigued with him. As you both drink your beers slowly you make small talk. He gives you a little background that he’s from New York and had a job that just went in the wrong direction with his values. He is currently just enjoying life as a drifter but he may want to see what this town has to offer. The answer was good enough for you and you explain to him you have a ranch just on the edge of town. You were looking for a ranch hand and if he needed some work he could come by in the morning. With a grin on his face, he agrees that he will stop by. 

The rest of the night goes by in a blur and before you both know it the bar is shutting down. Brock paid both your tabs and offered to walk you to your truck. He holds the door open for you as you head outside into the cool night. When you reach your truck you turn to him and say, “I had a wonderful night Brock. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.” You lean in and give a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Brock was taken aback by how gently you kissed him and lord knew he would love to pull you in for a passionate one. But for now, he’ll wait as he knows this is the beginning of something special. You both part ways for the evening leaving him to think about what the future could bring if he stayed.

The next day Brock showed up on your ranch and watched you exit a house. Today you are wearing a lightweight plaid shirt over a tank top, jeans, your boots, and a hat. You looked ready to start your day. You walked over to him, looped your arm in his, and instantly started giving him a tour of your property. You showed him the house you came from which was for the ranch hands for them to stay if they didn’t have a place. Then you showed him the rest of the buildings on the property. The tour took an hour and by the time you were done, Brock was agreeing to be your new ranch hand. 

From then on you two became inseparable, working hand in hand on the ranch. Brock worked hard to prove this was something he could do. No longer was he a Hydra soldier now he was Brock the rancher. He even got to eventually call you his woman after a few months of working together. Life was going in a direction he never imagined and he was in love with you. One night you were both getting the barn settled for the night. When he cornered you near the hay bales. His touch was light and desperate. You jumped up into his arms and wrapped your legs around his waist. He kissed you passionately and deepened the kiss when your mouth parted. It seemed he kissed you forever but he pulled back so you both could take a breath.

“I want you sweetheart so badly. Let me make love to you.” Brock whispered against your lips.

Your head was nodding before you could answer. “Please I need to feel you inside me. I-I have waited so long for you to ask.” You begged him to take you and Brock smiled at you. 

Brock carried you to your house as you placed kisses on his neck while occasionally nibbling on him. Brock couldn’t help the low groans that left his mouth from what you were doing. Finally reaching your bedroom Brock lowered you to your feet and stood there staring at you. “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can’t wait to make love to you.”

You slowly start to undress along with him and before you know it you’re both naked. You can’t help but admire his muscles on display along with his large cock. Gently Brock pushes you to the bed and you inch your way up the bed while he follows you. As you fully lay down Brock spreads your legs and lays in between them. Seeing your glistening pussy on display for him he can’t help but go in for a taste. 

The first pass with his tongue had you begging for more. Your fingers slipped through his hair as he skillfully took you apart with his tongue. Every pass of his tongue, every suckle of your clit had you arching into him, moaning his name to the heavens. Brock then pushed two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out while he played with your clit with his mouth. His fingers sped up as he sucked on your clit and that’s all you needed to cum for him. Brock finally stopped when you started to shake in his hold from overstimulation.

Slowly he crawled up your body until he was face to face with you. “How do you feel sweetheart?”

You smiled big at him. “Like I’m on cloud nine. I need more. Please make love to me.”

“Anything you want sweetheart you can have.” Brock wrapped his hand around his hard cock giving it a few strokes before he lined himself up to your wet pussy and started to push into you. Inch by inch he slowly sank into your tight cunt and leaned over you with his arms on either side of you to hold him up. His strokes were soft but firm at times. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he rolled his hips into you. Both of you let out groans and moans with every thrust into you. Brock leaned down to kiss you on your lips, capturing your whimper of how good he was feeling inside you. His thrusts started to pick up and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room along with your moans. Within moments you were crying out your release as he started to chase his end. A few hard thrusts into you and he was cumming inside you, painting your womb in his release. Both of you were panting from the exhaustion of your lovemaking. You pulled his face towards yours and started to kiss him. Never have you felt this way with another man before. 

A few minutes later Brock pulled out of you and walked to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he walked back he had a towel with him and he sat on the bed cleaning up the mess you both made between your legs. After he was done he threw the towel in your dirty laundry bin. Brock crawled into bed with you and pulled you close to his chest. He kissed your face and settled in. 

“I’m in love with you sweetheart. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Say you will be mine forever. Say it and I promise that you will never want for anything. I will love you until my last breath.”

Your eyes welled up with tears as you answered him, “I’m in love with you too Brock. I promise to stay with you forever. You’re my everything.”

Brock’s arms wrapped around you and you both drifted off to sleep.

This seemed like an eternity ago as Brock watched you pick some bluebonnets with your little girl who was now three years old. Again if you would have asked him if he thought this was his future he would have called you crazy. Today he is happily married and has a daughter that looks just like you. The ranch, no you have saved his life. You gave him a home, a new family, and a future.

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@talia-rumlow

[scandinavianfairytale]

All kings fall

Pairing: ex-Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Uprising, getting caught, death toll: 4 so far, forced kiss

A/N: Part 2 :)

The day of coronation arrived. The plan was set in detail and the decoys were ready. Just as Leo predicted there was more than one volunteer. In fact, there were so many, you had to choose who will join you in the first line of defense.

“I think you’re supposed to be downstairs and give a speech.” Bucky joked as he joined you on the rooftop of the HQ. You glanced at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say. We all know why we’re doing this and what is in store for us.” You exhaled, nerves getting the better of you.

“Steve usually always gave a talk.” Bucky reminisced.

“I don’t think that’s the best comparison given the situation.”

“Perhaps, but at one point in our lifetime, he was good. I think we could all follow the lead of that man.”

You clicked your tongue at that.

“I know Steve loved you. You brought him back to the present and he saved me. There is still some good in him.” He pressed.

“Bucky!” You yelled in frustration, shutting him up. “You need to stop thinking that the Steve you knew is still alive. There’s no Steve, there’s just Captain Hydra. He didn’t save you because you’re his best friend, but because he wanted to use you in his own way.” Sharply inhaling, you continued. “And he certainly didn’t love me. Not in the way you are trying to convince me. He played a role and deceived us all. He killed Tony and took control of his technology, twisting it into this killing machine that is now killing people that your soldiers called family. Steve is dead. All there’s left is the man that needs to be overthrown and possibly killed.”

“Look. I get what you are trying to say, but I will always have his back. If it means that I need to catch him and throw him in prison to set him straight, that’s what I will try to do.”

“Even if it’ll get you killed.”

“Hey, some gamble still needs to be present.” Bucky smiled and you returned his smile.

“Come on, let’s get our soldiers and let’s start this uprising.” He said after a few moments of silence.

~The decoy squad~

Looking at the volunteers, you wondered about their lives before Steve turned evil. Thinking back to 17 days before, you looked at Timothy.

“Ma’am, I lost my parents, my friends and I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We are at war and we are fighting for our lives. It’ll be my pleasure to fight by your side and it’ll be my honor to die for the cause.” Timothy said as the first volunteer. He still wore his friend’s army jacket. Several people stood up then and formed a line. Your jaw quivered, these were people that lost everything because of your ex-boyfriend and they were ready to give their lives in order to get back their independence. Even if it only meant dying on their own terms.

“So…” you coughed, gaining everyone’s attention. “Bucky joked that I should give a speech. But I feel like that will be too basic. But maybe right now, that’s what we need – to feel a bit basic.” Pausing and meeting Bucky’s eyes, you continued.

“I know you all know what we’re walking into. In the best scenario we will be captured and thrown into prison. In the most probable case we will die. I’m aware that you know this. But I just wanted to say thank you for standing here. For going through the last eight months with us. Thank you for trusting us and I hope that we will see the end of this resistance. I pray that we will be successful.”

Everyone nodded and a few said their own prayer.

~In the city – coronation~

“Captain, the festivities are beginning. It’s time for us to make an appearance.” Thompson entered Steve’s penthouse overlooking the city.

“Perfect. Are the agents stationed around the venue?”

“Yes. I made sure that only the best are on guard.”

“Then let’s make me king, shall we?” Steve smirked.

King Steve. It had a nice ring to it. When he first thought of it, he thought it was tacky. But if history taught him anything is that a man can do whatever he wants, if he submits everything and everyone to his will. And he did that. So why not make himself king? There hasn’t been a king of the US ever. Might as well start a kingdom.

Taking the podium, he looked at his followers and the people too afraid to fight back. He smirked again, taking in a deep breath.

“Thank you for joining me today. Today will go down in history of the new world as I declare America as a kingdom and myself as king.”

“You can’t do that!” Someone in the crowd yelled. Steve chuckled and suddenly a bullet shot out of thin air, shooting the woman that interrupted the speech.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Steve smiled again, taunting the people before him. “Guess not. Then let’s continue.” He walked to the chest that stood on the podium.  Taking the gold crown from it, he put it on his head and walked back to the microphone.

“I do promise to be a merciful ruler.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he continued. “As long as you stay in line.”

“Let the festivities begin.” Steve smiled as cannons shot out confetti. As the first blast shot out, Steve felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. Immediately Brock and Thompson were next to him, all three observing their surroundings.

Suddenly a rain of bullets shot out from different directions, all targeting the podium. Thompson was the first one to fall, however Brock and Steve were too quick. Brock used Thompson as a shield, to jump off the podium and into the mass of people. The bullets stopped and Steven was quick on his feet, running in the direction from which the first bullet was fired.

He could see his agents running in the other directions and he knew that whoever was stupid enough to try and attack will soon be captured and dealt with. He will make an example of them. As he made it out of the crowd, he knew he’ll be an open target, but Steve also knew that the shooter will also reveal their location. He will gladly make himself a target to get his hands on the traitor.

Like clockwork, he heard the shot and evaded the bullet just in the nick of time.

“Whoever you are, you’re not very smart. Don’t you know who I am?” Steve taunted.

“I know you’re somewhere close.” He smirked, making the shooter nervous as they moved from their position. Unfortunately, Steve was quicker and as the shooter stood up, a kick was dealt at their side. The man collapsed, clutching his side as the rib broke from the impact.

“You must be stupid to think that you’d outrun and outsmart a super soldier.”

“Boss. You won’t believe who I just caught.” Brock’s voice called from the ear piece.

“I caught one too. Make sure that whoever is still alive, stays alive. I want answers and I want to make sure something like this never happens again.” Steve responded back and grabbed the man lying on the ground.

~Penthouse~

“Well, well, Sweetheart, I thought I’d never see you again.” You froze as you heard his voice again. It’s been eight months, but his voice still made you freeze. Steve deposited a bloodied Timothy next to you and sat on his couch. Motioning to Brock, he dragged you in front of Steve.

“I knew we’d meet again.” He leaned down to stare at you. Defiantly you raised your chin.

“Congratulations, maybe you should open a psychics shop and do readings for other people.”

“I see you still have a mouth on you.” Steve leaned back, unamused.

“Did you think I’d magically change my personality?”

“Well, I hoped that you’d come to your senses by now and join me.”

“That will never happen.” You glared at him.

“I can be quite persuasive. Besides, your little revolt failed, what’s left for you now?” He chuckled at your resistance.

“I will never stand by your side again, Steve.”

“It’s King Steve, even to you.” Steve grabbed your chin, kissing you forcefully.

“I would rather die than to call you that.” You spat at him.

“Get used to it, Sweetheart. This is the new reality.” He smirked at you.

“Don’t you know your history? All kings fall and you will too.”

“I’m tired of your bullshit.” Motioning again to Brock, he picked you up by your tied wrists. “Get her out of my sight. Once she’s ready to behave, you can bring her back.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! :)

The GIF belongs to the creator & the crown picture was taken off the MMA official site :)

So...yes, I will write another part at least :D I am finally having some fun with writing again 💙 Inspiration today was this song :)

[insidekatmind]

Masterlist

Other series/movie

Bucky Barnes

Mission

Erik Killmonger

Mine

Brock Rumlow

HYDRA

Distraction

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

Masterlist

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It must have been very difficult for Brock to ask for help. We know he's not that guy. And it would be difficult for me to say no 😉

I enjoyed this, Annie!

The return to darkness

The return to darkness

Title: The return to darkness.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Brock Rumlow X Reader.

Word count: 379 words.

Square: 23 “Whumpee turned caretaker.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: After being abducted to HYDRA, Brock helped you, now he needs your help.

Major Tags: Mention of injuries.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @fandom-free-bingo Valentine’s edition.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

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

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) 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 people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. 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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It had been a while since your escape from HYDRA and you still missed the one person who had helped you. One day, while organizing some files, you received an unexpected call. Brock Rumlow's name flashed on your phone screen.

It had been years since you had last seen each other since he had helped you escape.

You sat up, your fingers brushing the phone.

“Brock?”

“It's... it's Brock,” the voice on the other end of the line trembled. “I’m hurt. Really hurt. I need you to come over.”

Without a second thought, you hung up. Whatever it was, you needed to be there. Brock had been many things in your life. But what mattered most at that moment was that he needed you.

When you arrived, Brock was on a makeshift stretcher, his face covered in a cold sweat, his breathing ragged. The wounds were deep and visible.

You approached him slowly.

“Brock...” you called softly to him.

His eyes widened slightly, recognizing you. “You? I thought you were gone... that...” His voice faded, and you saw him close his eyes.

You leaned toward him, touching his injured arm carefully, knowing he wouldn't let you near unless he was too weak to object. “I'm here. I'm going to help you.”

With bated breath, Brock nodded but spoke no more.

Following days.

You spent long hours in the room where he rested, sometimes reading quietly, sometimes just watching his body try to heal.

“I don't know how...” Brock began one of those nights when you were both in silence.

“You don't have to say anything,” you replied.

“What happened, everything I did.... I don't know if I deserve...”

You reached over and took his injured hand gently. “Brock,” you said softly. “You're not alone.”

The room filled with a tense silence, and for a moment, Brock closed his eyes.

“Why do you do it?” he asked.

“Because I owe you,” you said without hesitation. “Because, despite everything, I still care.”

The same fondness you had once felt for him was still there, underneath all the suffering, the scars and the lies. 

“Thank you,” Brock finally whispered.

And in that moment, all that mattered was being there for him, just as he had been there for you at your worst.

[painted-doe]

Hi, hope you are well. 💜

Just wanted to ask if you are writing anything right now?

Hi anon! I sure am!

First, the WIPs that are partially posted already:

Obviously gotta finish The Barnes Files. That one's my top priority right now.

I still need to finish and post the final chapter of the far side of the morning.

And then there's A Candle in the Window, which has been sitting sadly at 1/3 chapters for the last couple of years.

And then I've got the following ones in the works that you haven't seen yet, but hopefully will over the next few months:

Untitled: A crossover with The X-Files in which, in the mid-1990s, Agents Mulder and Scully are put on the trail of a mysterious killer with a metal arm...

There Are Such Things: The one where Karli Morgenthau survives that gunshot, kind of gets adopted by Bucky Barnes, and it ends up weirdly fixing everything for both of them. Eventual SamBucky but it's minor; the focus of the story is the found-family sibling relationship that develops between Karli, who needs to figure out who she wants to be, and Bucky, who's walked this same path before and is his best self when he's got a little sister to look after.

Lagniappe: I've mentioned this one before but won't start posting it until it's more complete. Bucky Barnes rescues a badly traumatized dog, and together they figure out that maybe people can be trusted after all.

Keep the Moon Awake: Look, we all have to write a post-CATWS recovering!Bucky fic. It's, like, tradition. In this one, Rumlow ends up tracking down Steve and Sam and joining forces with them out of mutual need; he's a nasty piece of work, but he knows the Asset and can predict his movements, and in return he needs the protection they can provide. And so they reluctantly team up with him out of desperation to track down Barnes -- before the leaking radiation from the nuclear technology in his damaged arm kills him and everyone around him.

Diptych: They had always lived in Westview, and it had always been perfect. And Westview continued to be perfect until Bucky woke up one night shaking and rolled over to ask Sam, in a small voice, whether either of them had ever been on a train.

Untitled: Valentina de Fontaine shows up on the Wilsons' dock one day and half-triggers some latent programming in the Winter Soldier in an attempt to reclaim him -- but something inside him decides Sam's his handler rather than her. No one is happy about this. SamBucky.

Want to know more about any of these WIPs? Send me an ask! I love talking about our blorbos (and it gets me in the writing mood).

[rolandtowen]

oh - my - god - keep - me from going lunatic, chapter 8

chapter summary: We catch up with some of the other Avengers. The team begins planning an offense against HYDRA.

Read on Ao3 or under the cut!

“Sir, a text from Staff Sergeant Wilson.” 

Tony squints at the clock on the wall of his lab. 6:07am. Maybe it's not that early for an Airman to be up and around. “Read it to me, J?” Tony asks as he thumbs through some design sketches. 

“Certainly, Sir. ‘All hands on deck. Meeting today, 1pm. Barnes remembers.’ The text was sent to all Avengers, plus Maria Hill.” 

If Sam was looping in Hill, then shit was about to go down. Not to mention the use of ‘Barnes’ over Bucky. The question is, how much their resident ex-assassin remembers. Tony appreciates the heads up, but he'd really prefer to not have to hear firsthand about how his parents died today. Or any day, actually. 

He'd suspected, of course, that it wasn't just a car crash. Especially after Fury had brought him into the fold of SHIELD, and Tony had learned just how much spycraft and espionage good ol’ dad had his hands in. Making enemies and making weapons are a package deal, as Tony knows all too well. 

When Steve and Natasha told him about the Zola algorithm, what it said about his father and Peggy, he couldn't believe it. No, that's not quite it. He didn't want to believe it. He'd heard vaguely of Operation Paperclip before, a passing historical anecdote whispered about over whiskeys with fellow scientists. Nazi butchers were quietly relocated to the States, hired by the government, and people were surprised that SHIELD had been compromised?

Tony's still turning it over in his head, trying to reason how much his father really knew. Howard's signatures appear in the Winter Soldier files, but on designs only. There's no indication that he knew what his designs were being used for. And yet, the man also hired Arnim Zola, a man so depraved Howard should have seen it coming a mile away. So what does that say about Howard?

As he pulls open a hologram of Barnes’ arm, Tony stomach lurches at a sudden realization. Howard used to have his coworkers over for coffee in the evenings – salons, he'd called them. The men would gather in the large living room and discuss everything from global relations to high temperature superconductors. Tony had, on occasion, spied into the room from the top of the stairs, peering down through the balusters to catch what scraps of dialogue he could. 

And if Howard had brought his coworkers, that meant – Arnim Zola had been in his childhood home. Had sipped coffee from his grandmother's fine china and made conversation with his mother. The man responsible for their deaths had been invited in. Zola -- his body at least -- had died by the time Tony was born. But nevertheless, the thought of Arnim Zola, who committed many crimes against humanity -- and many crimes against one human in particular -- even crossing the threshold into his childhood home made Tony's skin crawl. 

He wonders if Hill had known, before she'd gotten her hands on the Winter Soldier files – or if the assassination of Howard and Maria Stark had been a surprise even to her. He should be angry, he knows. He should be outright pissed. And yet, for the past few weeks, he's been sheltering the man that killed his parents. 

It’s like this. A weapon doesn't choose where it's pointed. And that's what HYDRA had reduced Barnes to, through years of programming and conditioning and burning damn holes in his brain. Tony had been in captivity in Afghanistan for, what? A few weeks? And he'd almost cracked. Barnes had been captive for twenty years before his first mission, despite HYDRA's incredibly persuasive methods. The man had fought back for twenty years, then broke fifty years of brainwashing to defect from HYDRA to protect Steve. Paying for his recovery is the least Tony Stark can do. 

“J, place a double order for everyone's preferred version of caffeine to be delivered to the meeting.” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

*** 

Clint had heard chatter that Avengers Tower had a new guest, but he hadn't had reason to return to New York until a mysterious text from Sam Wilson, Rogers’ most recent recruit to the team. He doesn't love that there's another guy on the team with a bird gimmick, but regular guys are limited, he supposes. On the bright side, at least he has another normal human being to rant to in the post-mission ice baths. 

Natasha has been…vague, to put it lightly. But Clint has been able to piece together that the Avengers have acquired another ex-assassin for deprogramming: one James Buchanan Barnes. Honestly, he’s surprised he hadn’t been called in earlier, due to both his experience with Natasha and Loki. He’s been on both sides of this scenario – the deprogrammer and the deprogrammed. 

He still can't quite wrap his head around SHIELD being infiltrated. Sure, some people had felt kind of slimy, but that comes when you're working with paramilitary types. He could buy Rumlow and Rollins being HYDRA, but Sitwell? That squirrely little guy? And Pierce? Jesus, how high up does this thing go? 

Natasha hasn't been…forthcoming about her emotional state, but Clint can imagine it ain't pretty. He feels a certain level of guilt – he'd been the one to convince her to join, after all. We're the good guys, he'd told her. Clint couldn't have known, but still. She thought she was doing some good in the world. 

If he'd read her coded texts right, she'd even stepped up to act as the Soldier's “handler”. Clint can't even imagine touching that with a ten foot pole. It's still too raw, too real for him. He still rushes to the bathroom after his nightmares to check for unnaturally blue eyes. His mind still doesn't quite feel like his home. Like the last owner left behind mold and mildew. 

Cut off one head and two more will take its place. 

Good. Clint's thing has never been cutting off heads. More like shooting straight through them.  

So when his phone pings on the kitchen counter and Laura reads it out to him, covered in a tangle of limbs and children, Clint knows he has to go. Mind control recovery is unfortunately, one of his specialties now. He presses a kiss to Laura and each of the children, before pealing out of the driveway in the farm truck. Destination: New York City. 

***

“So, I’ve called you all in because we have a major development,” Sam says, standing at the head of the conference table. He gestures for Bucky to speak, and he gulps a few times before he can start, his flesh hand tracing the wood grain of the table. 

“I’m regaining my mission-related memories,” his eyes stay fixed on the table as he speaks, all too aware that Tony Stark’s eyes are on him. “I remember everything from now to – to the 60’s.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Stark shift suddenly, and he has to take a breath before continuing. “I–I want HYDRA gone. I want to give you everything I know, so you can destroy them.” He pulls out the papers he’d been furiously scribbling on for the last five hours. “I’m trying to write down everything I can, but I – there’s just so much –” 

“Barnes,” a level voice addresses him. He looks up to see the newcomer – Barton – peering at him. A sharpshooter in both thought and action. “What is the most significant threat we should neutralize first?”

“The others,” Bucky says without hesitation. 

“Others?” Steve sits forward in his seat. “Others, like you?” Bucky notes how Hill's head whips towards him. 

Bucky nods. “I wasn’t the only Winter Soldier subject. In the 90’s, HYDRA obtained five more doses of serum. Five more Winter Soldiers were made.” He looks up to see Steve’s face has paled, and the blond whispers something to Natalia, whose face remains impassive. 

“And where, exactly, did HYDRA obtain five doses of supersoldier serum?” Stark asks, his tone of voice flat. Like he already knows the answer and is dreading the confirmation. 

“December 16th, 1991, this Soldier was deployed to extract the serum from Target Howard Stark. No witnesses,” Bucky recites, his eyes firmly fixed on the wood grain of the table in front of him. “No survivors.” 

Stark stands, rounding the table to get to the Sol – Bucky. “Tony,” Steve warns. Stark stops in front of Bucky, who braces himself for a blow. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I do want you to answer one question for me.” Stark crouches down to try and catch Bucky’s eye – “ look people in the eye when they address you, that’s what polite folk do,” a woman says, warm hand on the back of his neck – and Bucky meets his gaze with trepidation. “Do you know, was Howard Stark an active member of HYDRA?”

Bucky shakes his head. “He was never designated as an ally.”

“Did you ever see him participate in the Winter Soldier program?” Stark's eyes bore into his, and Bucky notes absently that they’re watering. 

“Never,” he whispers. 

A spell is broken by the word, and Stark lets out a long breath. “Okay, okay – that’s all I needed.” He rises, his knees cracking. “Carry on with the meeting, I just – I need a moment.” And he’s out the door, silence falling over the conference room again. A firm hand from Sam is on his shoulder. Warm. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam murmurs. “Tony’s just…got a lot on his mind.”

“Where are the other Soldiers now?” Natalia asks, blessedly changing the subject. 

“Siberia.” There’s a shuffling of papers, and Bucky finds the one he’s looking for. “Here. GPS coordinates will take you to a landing pad a half-mile away. Last I saw them,” he shudders, has to think for a second, to compose himself. “They were – unstable. Didn’t respond well to the programming. I had to…” he trails off, whispers of a memory percolating in his mind. “I had to protect Handler Karpov during an escape attempt.” 

“What happened to them, after?” Steve asks. 

“Frozen. Cryotubes. Like – like me. But as far as I know, they were never woken up. But then, I was transferred to America.”

“HYDRA dissolved in Russia soon after that,” Natalia notes. “You may be the only person alive who still remembers them.” 

“They’re in the manual,” Bucky says immediately. “Whoever has that manual would know. It has their codewords too.” 

“The red book? We have that, secured it at the same time we raided the Vault,” Steve tries to assure Bucky. 

“True,” Natalia agrees. “But, we cannot guarantee that no one peeked at the other Winter Soldiers’ information when, well, operating Barnes.” She turns back to Bucky. “After your transfer to America, did you have any other handler other than Alexander Pierce?”

“Commander Rumlow was placed in the position of secondary handler, but I had no primary handlers other than Pierce.”

“Well, shit,” Sam breathes. “Would Rumlow have had access to the manual as a secondary handler?”

Bucky wracks his scattered memories. “It was permitted if required by protocol. If Handler Pierce could not be present, Commander Rumlow was the designated handler.” 

“I told you he was creepy,” Barton jibes at Natalia. He turns to Hill, a beseeching look on his face. “Please tell me you detained him.”

Hill shakes her head, speaking for the first time in the meeting. “He’s in the wind. We looked in every possible hospital for him, given he’s likely got extreme burn wounds, but – nothing.” 

“Well, he’s certainly in a position where a couple of supersoldiers would be advantageous,” Barton says grimly. “When do we suit up?”

“I’m writing down everything I can, but it’s going to take a few days. Everything is still,” Bucky waves his hand around his head. “Disordered. I can’t tell what happened chronologically unless I know the exact date.”

“Writing down – wait, you’re not coming with us?” Barton looks between Bucky, Sam, and Steve. 

“I can’t – I can’t come with you,” Bucky apologizes, his gaze cast to the table once again. 

Barton quirks his head to the side. “Why not? You’re the best man for the job.”

“The trigger sequence,” Steve says quietly. “If we run into anyone who knows the Soldier’s trigger words – like Rumlow – they’ll be able to control Buck all over again.”

“Oh, damn.” Barton sits back in his chair. “I’m sorry, man. So, are we planning an extraction, bringing them back here?

“No,” Bucky says with an urgency so sudden that it shocks even himself “You can’t – you have to kill them. You can’t save them. They’re not…like me.”

“How so?” Barton tips his head to the side again. 

Bucky looks the marksman square in the face. “They volunteered.” 

***

“Hey,” Steve's voice breaks the silence in the elevator after the meeting. “I just, I know that wasn't easy for you, being with so many people, talking about that stuff – but I'm proud of you.” Something warm blooms in Bucky's chest at the words, but he doesn't know why. “Do you want to still do our music hour, or do you wanna crash?” 

Bucky quirks his head to the side. “Crash?”

“Uh, nap or something. Not do anything, basically,” Steve explains.

“That's a thing?”

“That's a thing,” Steve confirms. “A thing you can do.” 

Bucky takes his spot in the blanket puddle on the couch. “I don't think I need a crash?” He picks up one of the books Steve had brought the other day. 

“Got any requests then?” Steve turns his back to Bucky, fiddling with the turntable. 

“The one without the words,” Bucky says. He doesn't think he can take many more words today. Too much talking. Too much listening. 

“Goodman, huh? Good choice,” Steve says, chuckling a bit at his own words. The turntable crackles to life, and something about it quiets Bucky's mind, starts pulling his memories into a neater web. 

“One more thing I gotta ask, Buck.” Steve rests his sketchbook in his lap, unopened. “We decided, someone's gotta stay with you. I mean, Bruce knows the most about your medical care, Sam's the best with the mental health stuff, guess it depends on what you think is best.” 

Bucky's still having a hard time with that. The thinking for himself bit. What little discretion he had at HYDRA was mission-focused. He had to be able to make choices in the field. But everything else was…taken care of, even if he hadn't been a willing participant. Here, there's still rules, boundaries, but – it's exhausting. Choosing. Deciding. 

His brain is tired. 

Your body knows what it wants, Sam had told him. So he tries, not to think of the rational or logical possibilities. Tries to think of what he wants, and his body makes it pretty damn clear. He doesn't know why – and ain't that a long list – but he feels safe with Steve. His first night without nightmares in the Tower had been because of Steve. Steve hadn't let any of the scans or technicians hurt him either. He'd explained why Bucky couldn't go on the mission, had saved Bucky from the shame of explaining – yet again – that he's a passenger in his own mind. 

Moreover, he knows Steve can hold his own against him – against the Soldier, still lurking in the back of his brain. He cannot say the same for Sam or Natalia. He hasn't seen Bruce's capabilities yet, and he knows Barton is only human. So he asks Steve, as protection for himself and everyone else: 

“Can you stay?”

[e-dubbc11]

Hello my darling Annie!

I love this gif! Thank you for participating in my celebration and sending in your asks, I really appreciate you as a friend. I hope you like what I did here. Thank you again for reading and sharing my fics, it really warms my heart ♥️

I didn’t know if you wanted this for Brock or Leo so I just went with Brock, I hope that’s ok ♥️

Glasses

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

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x F! Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ Please! Or else I’m telling!) swear words, little bit of angst, and fluff

Word Count: 1.6K-ish

Summary: You’re introduced to a co-worker by literally bumping into him. He wasn’t very nice to you but you noticed he can’t seem to stay away either.

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 gentle knocks on your door caused you to look up from the pages of your book and set your cup of tea and your glasses on the end table next to you. One side of your mouth curled into a slight smile as you walked over to the door to let him in.

Brock always knew you were awake if the dim light from the living room lamp was glowing in the window. You were getting used to these late night visits but the first time it happened was a complete surprise.

Both of you worked for SHIELD but he was the field agent, a leader and you were just a technical aide that worked for the Statistics division. You knew him to have a very tough exterior, he was gruff, and bold which was very apparent when you literally crashed into him on your way into work one morning and he snapped at you.

“Maybe you need new glasses, sweetheart! Eyes up next time, Missssss…” He pinched your badge in between his thick calloused fingers so he could read it. “Miss y/l/n.”

His voice was firm, raspy, and…incredibly sexy.

After that encounter, you’d catch him on the floor where you worked a number of times. He must have not only noticed your name on your badge but also the department you worked in. He had no reason to be there, he was a field agent, why was he wandering around the Statistics floor, and why did he watch your every move?

“Have a drink with me.” His voice commanded.

Brock managed to sneak up and sit next to you while you were reading on your lunch break.

Not even looking up from the page, you had replied, “You’re not my boss, Rumlow. You can’t tell me what to do.” You stole a glance at him before pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose and returning your gaze back to your book. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Have a drink with me…please.” He asked sheepishly.

Again, not looking up from your book, you lightheartedly replied, “Ok.”

After agreeing on a time and place, he started to walk away before turning around and asking, “You know who I am?” Remembering you called him by his last name a few minutes prior.

This time you lowered your book to look at him over your glasses and with a sly smile replied, “Everyone knows who you are…Brock.”

He walked away trying to hide the smile you put on his face.

**********

You purposely showed up a little late to make him wait for you, then ordered and took a shot of tequila, thanked him and walked away. Brock’s eyes never left your backside as he watched you walk out of that bar, loving and hating the fact you made him look like a fool. You may look like a shy little book nerd but he didn’t know who he had messed with snapping at you the way he did.

Later on that night was when you got that first set of knocks on your front door. Confused and surprised by someone knocking on your door late at night, you got up from the couch to investigate. Looking through the peephole, you saw Brock leaning against your doorframe, waiting patiently for you to open the door.

“You left me lookin’ like an asshole, doll! Open the door, I know you’re there.” He said.

Glaring at him from the other side of the door, you flung the door open and said, “You said it, I didn’t. What are you doin’ here, Rumlow? And how do you know where I live?!”

Brushing the stubble on his cheeks, he continued to look down before slowly bringing his gaze up to meet yours. Brock’s eyes reminded you of the gold you would see in a summer sunset or the color of Tennessee honey whiskey. They were beautiful.

“The answer to your first question, sweetheart, is I asked you out for a drink so I could apologize for snappin’ at ya the first time we met. I didn’t wanna admit that maybe I wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’. I’m sure you don’t need new glasses. And the answer to question number two is, we work for SHIELD, ya think I can’t find out where people live?” He said softly.

Brock wasn’t trying to turn you on, he really was just trying to apologize, but he was sexy, irresistible, and had you clenching your thighs together so tightly, that you thought you might fall over.

Biting down on your lower lip, you let him continue.

“So if ya didn’t drink and run like ya did, I could have apologized proper—“ He said before you cut him off.

Pulling him inside by his jacket, his lips were on yours as fast as the door slammed shut, his thick fingers tangled in your hair and his teeth nipped at your jawline and down your neck. You started removing each other’s clothes and haphazardly tossed them onto the floor, making your way toward the bedroom.

Brock “apologized” over and over again that night. He did it with his talented fingers, with his tongue, and with his cock. His apologies didn’t stop until your vision had gone white, until your voice cracked, and until your knees quivered when you tried to stand up. His kisses were hungry and demanding, and the desire burning behind his amber eyes matched the craving you had for him.

The cries of passion he pulled from you left you breathless and he was insistent on leaving you without a voice. Your sinful moans turned him on, made him completely feral, and the pleasure he gave you crashed over you in waves.

Brock Rumlow was definitely the animal in bed just like you thought he would be.

Shaking from overstimulation, you managed to say, “All I was really looking for was an ‘I’m sorry,‘ Brock.”

He pinched your side and lightly bit down on your bare shoulder while trying to hold in a chuckle. The STRIKE team leader that most people were afraid of had a soft spot and that soft spot was for you.

“I can see your pretty eyes better without your glasses.” He had said.

You replied, “Well…I don’t need to wear them ALL the time.”

And now here he was again gently knocking at your door, looking sexy as fuck in his black leather jacket, and silently begging for a piece of the fruit he’s tasted so many times in the past few months.

The way his hands confidently roamed over you, it was always a surprise where they would go next. Would he pin your wrists above your head so he could fuck you deep into the mattress, or let you climb on top so he could firmly press his fingers into your hips as you rolled them over his? You loved to watch his teeth bite down onto his lower lip as you rode him before pulling him in close, grasping at his muscular shoulders and back to feel him hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

With his movements becoming faster and more erratic, you knew he was close as your walls were tightening around him, your pussy so wet that he slid in and out of you with ease before drenching his dick with your release and he chased his own orgasm.

And no one knew. At work, no one knew the leader of the STRIKE team spent his down time with you, the slightly nerdy girl from Statistics, and that he worked tirelessly to make you come as many times as possible, in as many different positions as possible, on every single flat surface he could find, and wanting to hear you scream so loudly, you would wake the neighbors. You didn’t care if they did know but maybe he did; however, you were too nervous to ask him.

You didn’t ask because no one made you feel like this and you didn’t want it to go away.

In the faint light of your bedroom, you watched him put on his gray t-shirt, his muscles tight like piano wire, and his eyes wide with worry. As the shirt drifted down his toned torso, you wondered what he was thinking about, and why did he have that look of worry on his face?

Wrapped up in the bedsheet, you continued to stare with a wicked smile on your face, and he smiled back before saying, “Had a bit of a rough day today, doll.”

Propping your head up with your hand, your smile disappeared and asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

“I didn’t know if we were doin’ that kinda stuff, sweetheart.” Said Brock.

Patting the spot next to you on the bed, you replied, “We can if you want to, Rumlow. Have a seat, tiger.”

Brock smirked and climbed on top of you until you were flat on your back, your hands traveled up his arms and landed around his neck.

“Can I take you out on a date?” He asked. His voice was extra scratchy from the workout he gave it a little while ago.

You slid your fingers through his dark brown hair and asked with a wide smile and sarcasm dripping from your voice, “Oh you wanna be seen with me? What will people think, Brock?”

“Well, I want everyone to see that I have the prettiest girl…with or without her glasses.” He said with a wink just before he claimed your lips with a gentle kiss.

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, the man made you blush…hard, and you had to finally admit to yourself that you were smitten with him.

“I’ll go out with you, Brock. Now kiss me and tell me all about your bad day, maybe I can make it better.” You said with a warm smile.

He pinched your chin in between his forefinger and thumb and replied, “You always do, sweetheart.”

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @randomlittleimp

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!

[alfafacose]

I ammm not a writer at all but I made a little thingie about the drawing

He felt like heaven, was the only thought going through the assets mind. He felt like the warmth from a flame, like smudged memories of a man who’d laughed and held him like this. He felt too good to be true and the assets hands trembled where he touched him, not used to being used for anything other than pain. He bit his lip to muffle desperate little thank yous from escaping, knowing it would only make the gentleness fade faster.

His handler held him so gently, he couldn’t believe these hands were the same that slapped bound prisoners, that gripped the assets arms and snarled sharp instructions into his ear. But now those same hands were holding him. And he sank into the touch. Knowing it could be taken away any moment, as was his handlers right. But for now he could close his eyes and pretend it was someone else holding him and he was far far away.

Aww!!! I fucking love every single word of this! -chef kiss-✨Thank you 🖤

here the related drawing:

[mandyyvibes]

For Reasons Wretched and Divine

Chapter 7: “It Will Come Back.”

But the moment its mask fell, the moment Rogers looked at it…

“Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

@catws-anniversary

[e-dubbc11]

Stumbled upon this and thoroughly enjoyed it! Smexy hubby Brock Rumlow is a mood for me right now! 🥵

Only You

Pairing: Brock Rumlow x Reader

Word Count: 1277

Summary: After a long day at work Brock comes home to you and a romantic night that you planned.

Warnings: Smut, Oral (Fem) and fingering

A/N: Thank you to my beta readers @pigwidgeonxo & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @music-culture-mythology (any mistakes on spelling & grammar are my own)  Divider by @firefly-graphics​

A/N 2: This has been something I’ve been meaning to write for a long time. Thank you @americasass81​ for encouraging me to write this when I wasn’t sure.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Keep reading

[azulatodoryuga]

HAIL HYDRA

Characters: Captain HYDRA & Brock Rumlow Warning: dark fic, homicide, smut. Dedicated to: @nekoannie-chan

HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen, and the HYDRA leaders who managed to escape were few; some had been captured by S.H.I.E.L.D. or killed.

“I refuse to take orders from dogs,” the man spat, glaring hatefully at the three agents, especially Steve, who was supposed to protect him to meet Pierce.

“What a shame,” says Y/N. Brock shoots the one who was once his superior straight in the head. It's funny how not long ago we were following his orders, but everything changes,” says the mutant with no expression on her face.

“Now only Pierce is missing; the rest will be easy,” assures Steve.

“Are you sure Barnes gave you the right information?“ Brock asks.

While Steve assured him that the Winter Soldier was on their side, he didn't trust the Soldier's loyalty to them, as he was ultimately trained to obey at an extreme level.

“I told you, they'll be here tomorrow; they just won't be there,” Steve replies in annoyance, pointing to the corpse.

“As with the other idiot who was in my care...” answers the mutant, calling the attention of both men.

She extends her hand towards him, and the acid shoots out of her hand, completely disintegrating the corpse.

“But at least we'll do the part where we and some of HYDRA will be there,” she approaches Steve, holding his arm while leaning on it with a dazzling smile. “I trust you, so I'll trust Barnes' word as well,” Steve smiles with satisfaction.

“Let's go back to the hotel,” Brock suggests. Tomorrow night we'll finish with Pierce and start with everything.

“Very well,” the woman approaches Brock now, holds his chin, and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. I'm hungry.

Back at the hotel, Steve, Brock, and Y/N are in bed having dinner, but not exactly food.

The lewd noise that causes Steve's pelvis to collide with Y/N's floods the room along with the moans of Brock by the swinging of the mutant to lick and suck his member, releasing one or another grunt or moan.

It is amazing to both men the stamina of the woman, their woman. Regardless of the strong thrusts Steve gives her and how her small body (in comparison to her men's) trembles, she keeps doing an excellent job with Brock.

“Keep going,” Brock orders her, throwing his head back and letting out a loud grunt as he climaxes. Steve stops for a moment; the mutant slowly releases Brock's length from her mouth as she slowly spits out his semen, giving the black-haired man a shudder—the mutant smiles in satisfaction at his expression.

Steve grabs Y/N's wrists with a little roughness, placing them at Y/N's sides, lifting her a little without taking her knees off the bed. He begins to ram her with greater speed and depth than before, increasing the moans and grunts of both, but the Y/N's noises are uselessly silenced by Brock's lips that in turn caress the woman's cheek while the other one massages her clitoris.

She feels the knot in her stomach grow until she finally climaxes. Brock pulls away from her to let her breathe, but Steve keeps moving.

“Come on...” he begins to encourage between gasps and grunts. M-my... Cap-Captain “And with those words, Steve could have his orgasm, filling the inside of his partner.

“Rest a little bit, “Steve tells her while he releases her, letting Brock take her in his arms to lie down on the bed.

A few minutes have already passed, and the Y/N is lying in the middle of her two men, enjoying the caresses and cuddles they give her. But they are interrupted when Brock's cell phone starts to vibrate. Brock rushes to check his cell phone to be able to return to his kissing and caressing session; however, the news he received from his friend, without a doubt, is important.

“Jack and most of the team will arrive before Pierce tomorrow and the rest of the groups and teams together or after him.

“It couldn't be better; we'll soon have control of what's left of HYDRA and make it even bigger and stronger than it was.

“There's no doubt about it, though; the only problem is that not everyone is an ally of ours, but that can be solved one way or another,” Steve argues.

“You said it yourself, honey... it can be solved one way or another,” assures Y/N with a cynical smile. While HYDRA had fallen and some leaders had managed to escape, that didn't mean she would continue to obey their orders, because how stupid and incompetent did they have to be to allow that to happen, and yet they expected them to believe that they themselves would rebuild what once was? Of course not; she would take the reins along with Steve and Brock to make sure HYDRA was stronger and more powerful than it once was in the past.