#brock rumlow x reader smut

[insidekatmind]

Distraction-Brock Rumlow

Your breathing is calm, but your heart beats a little faster than usual. You're used to these missions, living on the edge, but there's something about this situation that feels off. Maybe it's the plan. Or maybe it's the fact that Steve asked you to distract Brock Rumlow, the most unsettling agent you've ever met.

"Y/N, I need you to cover for me. I have to talk to Pierce, and we can't afford for Rumlow to get in the way. You're the only one who can pull this off," Steve said to you, his tone serious but his gaze full of trust.

"Do you have any idea how obsessed he is with me?" you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Exactly why I asked for your help. I need time, and you're the only one who can keep him busy," he replied, a faintly apologetic smile on his lips.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't say no. Steve is your best friend, and you trust him more than anyone else.

Now, here you are, in the hallway of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, and Brock Rumlow is standing in front of you. He's staring at you with that look that always makes you want to roll your eyes.

"Rumlow," you say with a forced smile, "can I talk to you in private?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a smug grin quickly spreads across his face. "Sure, Y/N. Where do you want to go?"

"Your office. It's important." Your voice is steady, but your stomach churns at the thought of what you're about to do.

He leads you to his office, closing the door behind him. You sit in the chair across from his desk, trying to appear relaxed, but you know you need to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks, leaning forward with a smile that makes you want to punch him.

You improvise. "I was thinking... have you ever considered stepping out of your comfort zone? You know, doing something different with your life?"

He chuckles, a low, amused sound. "And what do you have in mind, Y/N?"

"Well," you begin, careful not to let your nerves show, "you're always so... intense. Maybe you should try relaxing, having some fun. You know, not everything has to be about work and missions."

Rumlow looks at you, visibly intrigued. "Interesting. And how do you think I should do that?"

You drag the conversation out as long as possible, talking about improbable hobbies, movies he's never seen, and even suggesting a yoga class, all while your mind stays focused on Steve. How much more time does he need?

Meanwhile, Rumlow seems to be enjoying himself. It's obvious he's too distracted by you to worry about anything else happening elsewhere.

While you continue babbling, Rumlow approaches you like a predator and caresses your cheek, smiling at you. You go abruptly silent when you feel his touch on your cheek. His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle, but his gaze is as intense as ever. "You know," he says, his voice low and playful, "you're quite entertaining when you're not arguing with me." He moves closer to you, his body only inches from yours.

You look at Brock in surprise. "Oh, really?" You whisper, hoping Steve would finish quickly. He grins, seemingly amused by your reaction. His gaze travels from your eyes down to your lips, and then back up.

"Oh, yes." He responds, lifting your chin gently. "You get all flustered, trying to prove a point, and your cheeks flush." His fingers trace your jawline, his touch feather-like. You're hyper-aware of his proximity, and you remind yourself to stay calm, to keep stalling.

"It's kind of adorable," he continues, his voice a soft rumble. "And you have my undivided attention, darling." He leans in even closer, his face just a breath away from yours. His smile is still present, but there's something different in his eyes:a hunger, a desire. Your heart quickens, and you remind yourself once more that you're doing this for Steve. Keep him busy just a little longer.

Smile. “Does the great Brock find me adorable?” you ask getting flirty, you were trying to give Steve as much time as possible. He chuckles, clearly enjoying your change of tone. "Adorable and infuriatingly cheeky," he replies, a hint of amusement in his smirk.

He's so close now, his body almost touching yours. His hand is still on your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your jawline. "You've got quite the mouth on you," he adds, "and right now, I'm rather curious about what other uses you might have for it."

You held back so hard not to slap him and you fake a smile by biting your lip. His gaze darkens as he notices your lip between your teeth, and he moves even closer, his body pressing against yours. "Careful, darling," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "You keep biting your lip like that, and I might get a few ideas of my own." His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail, and you can't help but fidget under his intense scrutiny.

His lips hover just above yours, so close that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "You're so tense," he observes, his body almost trapping you against the chair. "What's the matter, Y/N? Is something bothering you?" His hand slides down from your jaw to your throat, his touch both tender and possessive at the same time.

You gulp involuntarily, the feel of his hand on your throat making your heart pound faster. "No, I'm fine," you manage to say, your voice not nearly as steady as you'd like. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you sure?" he purrs, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy circle on your pulse point. "Because you're shaking."

His words send a shiver through you, and he must feel the effect they have on you, because his grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. "And you're breathing pretty hard," he points out, his gaze locked onto yours. He presses his body against yours, his other hand gripping the armrest of the chair, effectively trapping you in his embrace.

His face is just inches from yours, his eyes a deep, dark pool of hunger. "You're usually so feisty, so strong," he murmurs, his voice a rough whisper. "But right now, you're at my mercy, all flustered and trembling." His hand at your throat moves up to cup your chin again, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "I could do anything I want with you like this, darling."

You stopped yourself from slapping again and smiled at him placing your hands on his shoulders moving them sensually. "And do you mind this?" you whisper seductively. His expression darkens with raw lust, and he grips your thigh with his free hand. "No, I don't mind this at all." His voice is low and dangerous, his gaze still locked on yours.

His body is pressed against you, his touch possessive and demanding. "In fact," he continues, pulling your leg up against him, "I like seeing you like this. All hot and bothered, trembling at my touch."

You caress his neck to distract yourself from laughing at his statement. Steve owed you a big favor, you thought. He lets out a low, rumbling sound at your touch, clearly enjoying the sensation. "That feels nice," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded.

He presses you even closer, his body molding against yours. "You know," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "I think I could get addicted to this." Brock slowly runs his fingers over your bare thigh, his touch light and teasing.

"Your skin feels so soft," he continues, his voice growing huskier. "So smooth and inviting." His hand inches higher, moving under your skirt, and his hips grind against yours. "I've been wanting to touch you for so long," he admits, his hand gripping your waist. "Feeling you shiver under my touch, seeing you all flushed and panting."

His lips find their way to your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste your pulse point. "You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, his teeth grazing your skin. "No idea how badly I want to claim you." His hand beneath your skirt moves even higher, his touch burning through you. "I want to mark you, taste you, make you mine."

Close your eyes try to calm your heartbeat with little results. You hated to admit it but his words were turning you on. He chuckles, noticing your reaction. "Can't keep your cool, can you?" he teases, his hand now dangerously close to your center.

"You can't hide it, darling," he murmurs against your skin. "I can feel it, the way your heart is racing, the way you're reacting to my touch." He moves his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble. "You like this, don't you? The feel of my hands on your body, the sound of my voice. You like being at my mercy." "But you won't give in," he continues, shifting so that his body is now fully flushed against yours. "You won't give me the satisfaction of admitting it, will you?" He nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing your skin.

"But I know you want me." He whispers, his hand continuing its slow exploration. "You can try to deny it all you want, but I know you're just begging for it right now." He moves his lips down your neck, nipping and biting at your skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. "You're so stubborn, darling," he says, his voice a rough purr. "So determined to resist."

Brock shifts his body, positioning himself between your legs. "But it won't be long now. You're trembling, panting, and I can feel the heat coming off of you." He grips your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh, and he presses his body against yours, leaving no room for escape. "Just let go, darling," he whispers, his voice a low, sensual command. "Let me take you over the edge. Give yourself to me."

You gasp softly looking at him. His gaze captures yours, dark and possessive, and he smiles a slow, knowing smile. "There it is," he murmurs. "That gasp. That look in your eyes. That's what I wanted to see." He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Admit it, darling. You want me just as badly as I want you." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and almost tender. "You can fight it all you want," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "But at the end of the day, you're mine."

His hips grind against yours, his arousal pressing against you. "And I'm going to make you mine, darling. I'm going to make you beg for it." He's practically pinning you to the chair, his body pressed against yours, his hands everywhere. "I'm going to show you pleasure you've never even imagined before," he promises, his voice rough and sensual. "I'm going to make you scream my name, darling."

“Brock” you try to stop him but your tone wasn’t very confident, your mind was foggy. He growls, the sound low and possessive. "Say it again," he demands, his body pressing even harder against you. "Say my name again, darling."

You shiver at his command, your body responding to his touch in ways you can't control. "Brock," you repeat, your voice a hoarse whisper. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. "That's right," he says, his lips on your neck again. "I want to hear you say it, darling. I want to hear you begging for me."

He begins to kiss and nibble at your neck, leaving hot, wet trails on your skin. "No more fighting, no more resisting," he murmurs, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Just give in, darling. Give in to me." You give in, moaning softly as you cling to him.

He growls again, the sound even more primal and possessive than before. "That's it, darling," he says, his hands roaming your body. "I want to hear those beautiful sounds coming from your lips." Brock lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you over to the nearby couch and laying you down on it, his body covering yours. "You're mine now," he whispers, gazing down at you hungrily. "All mine."

[e-dubbc11]

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!

[itwasthereaminuteago]

I come bearing slutty thoughts.

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

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

(I hope this won't get flagged 🤣)

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

|| Kissed by Death ||

Brock Rumlow x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks for coming back to me.”

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

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

[azulatodoryuga]

All Right

Character: Brock Rumlow X Reader X Steve Rogers

Warning: Smut.

Note: This is present for @nekoannie-chan for birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! It will also be published on my Wattpad. The english version will be exclusive for Tumblr.

—Something is wrong — Brock assures when his call comes back into the mailbox.

—If something bad had happened to him, we would know by now — Jack says, trying to calm his friend as he follows him — Now where are you going?

—Rumlow — Steve called him, and both men turned to him, who was addressing them — I need to talk to you.

—I have more important things...

—It's about Y/N — Steve said Brock stops talking when he hears your name — I can't reach her; do you know anything about her?

Brock denies.

—Not much has happened since we lost contact with Y/N — Jack points out — So I doubt anything will be done for the time being.

—We'll look for her first, and if we don't find her, we'll alert S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jack would take over some of Brock's duties, so Brock and Steve could look for you without any problems.

They go to your office to look for any files or documents that might indicate your whereabouts, but find nothing. They decide to go to your apartment. When they enter the garage of the building, they realize that your car is not there.

They go to your apartment, and Brock opens it with the key that you had given him—something that catches Steve's attention because he also has one, but later he would ask for it.

They look all over the place, and again, nothing

—I've had enough — says Brock, tired of the situation, taking out his cell phone.

—Who do you plan to call?

—I know someone who can help; he owes me some favors, so he won't refuse.

—Finger crossed.

Just as Brock said, his contact didn't refuse to help; they waited a few minutes until his contact called him back, and Brock put the call on speaker.

—It must be wrong; check again — Steve asked incredulously when he heard the address.

—I'm not kidding; we're right in that building!

—I'm serious; it's right there; in fact, as far as I can see, I arrived less than ten minutes ago.

After those words, the front door is heard to open, and both men become alert.

—Hello? — Your voice rings through the apartment. Not having a lock on the door, you knew that Steve or Brock was in your apartment, but you couldn't guess who exactly. The two men almost bolted for the front door.

—Y/N? — Steve asks quietly as he sees you standing at the entrance of the apartment. You're okay — he says, relieved, without stopping his walk.

Before you can ask anything, Steve pounces on you, hugging you protectively. A few seconds later, you feel other arms around your back, and you realize instantly that it's Brock, who hugs you protectively but also a bit possessively.

—Ah, mmm, thanks for the nice welcome, but... what are you two doing here?

—More to the point, where were you? — Brock claims, turning away from you a bit. You were about to answer, but Steve beat you to it, joining in the complaint.

—You didn't mention you were dating — Steve says, imitating Brock's action.

—Let's take it one step at a time — You try to move away so as not to lose your calm due to the nerves of having the two of them so close, without any success.

Neither of them seemed to want to let you go, and clearly, their strength was by far superior to yours. You sighed in surrender before you began to recount what had happened.

—I had to make a trip to another city; the problems started when I got back; my car broke down, and my cell phone had no battery. I was stranded for hours until someone finally helped me. But there was no signal to call a tow truck.

—What do you mean there was no signal? — Steve interrupted in confusion.

—There's no signal everywhere, Steve — you clarified. You knew perfectly well that this erroneous idea had gone through his head.

—What else happened?" Brock asks, curious.

—Well, we had to go to the city to get a signal and call the tow truck, then we came back, waited for the tow truck to arrive, got my car fixed at the shop, came home and found you, and now, can you explain to me: How did you both end up in my apartment?

—I couldn't reach you, and neither could Rumlow; we got worried and decided to look for you together.

You were speechless. You turned to Brock, who nodded, giving you the understanding that what Steve said was true. It was hard for you to believe that the two of them decided to look for you together instead of doing it on their own, even though they didn't get along at all.

—I'm sorry if...

—Don't apologize — Brock said, tightening his grip — The important thing is that nothing happened to you — he continued, and you smiled at him with a warm smile.

—Just out of curiosity — Steve started talking, so you and Brock turned to look at him — Since when does Rumlow have a key to your apartment? — You couldn't help but tense up at that question.

—Why should that matter to you, Rogers?" Brock asked mockingly.

—I asked her, Rumlow. Y/N," he said, turning back to you and waiting for an answer.

—Don't push her.

—I'm not pushing her.

“Here we go again" you thought, and sure enough, they started arguing, with you in the middle... again.

But this time you decided to leave them to continue their pointless discussion and escape. It was easier than you thought. You slipped away to your room. You needed to take a shower; it had been a long day.

You went to the bathroom, but before entering, you saw out of the corner of your eye the two men who kept arguing. You entered the bathroom and got rid of your clothes to enter the shower, relaxing at the sensation of the water running over your body.

You couldn't help but remember the arms of both men on your body, giving you an indescribable feeling of security and tranquility that only they made you feel.

From the beginning, you were in love with both men. Both are attentive and protective of you, but they are very different in many, many ways, and yet you felt the same way about both of them. The idea of dating both men was always in the back of your mind, but you doubted they would agree to have that kind of relationship.

You turned off the shower and rolled up your towel. You left the bathroom to go to your room. On the way, you noticed the silence of the place; Steve and Brock had already stopped arguing, but at what point...

You'd better worry about that now that you're dressed.

You went into your room and got a big surprise when you saw Brock sitting on your bed.

—What are you doing here? — you asked, confused.

—I was waiting for you to get out of the bath — he answers naturally.

—Is something wrong?

—Did you also give a key to your apartment to Rogers? — he questioned you; you weren't surprised by his question per se, but he looked annoyed. Although you hesitated, you nodded, answering his question.

—Why? — he asked, irritated.

—Because he is my friend — you say with difficulty.

—“Friend” — he repeats. You nod again, and he gets up from the bed — Good — he says, and he starts walking towards you, a little intimidating. Your nerves increase as he stands in front of you.

—Brock...?

And before you can ask any questions, he puts his arms around you to pull you closer to him so he can join his lips, or rather, devour your lips.

Your heart begins to pound, and you can't figure out if it's because of nerves or the excitement that begins to take hold of you. But only two options cross your mind: to stop him and ask him for time to clarify your feelings about him and Steve, or to let things take their course. Obviously, you choose the second option.

You place your hands on his chest and try to follow his kiss. Brock's hands run down your back over the towel that starts to fall.

You were about to take it off, but you felt a pair of hands do it for you, realizing something: Brock still had his hands on your back.

You abruptly pull away from Brock, breaking the kiss, turning back, and finding Steve with the towel that he drops to the floor the moment they connect gazes, leaving you completely exposed to them.

—Steve...

Before you can even say anything, Steve begins to devour your lips like a beast. His left hand rests on your right breast, massaging it to his liking, and with the other, he holds your left side, almost touching your other breast.

While Brock attacks your neck, filling it with kisses and a bite or two. His right arm has you wrapped around him, and with his left hand, he eagerly caresses your intimacy, concentrating on your clitoris, making you squirm from the intense pleasure.

You begin to feel a knot in your stomach. Brock realizes your soon-to-be orgasm and accelerates the movement of his fingers on your pleasure point so that pinching makes you reach your orgasm. You let out a loud moan that was stifled in Steve's mouth.

You pull away from him to catch your breath. But your slight rest was interrupted when Brock grabbed your neck roughly, making you let out a small moan.

—Let's go to bed — Brock whispers in your ear, making you feel a shiver down your back.

—You'll be more comfortable — Steve assures you.

Maybe not everything on this day will be so bad.

[talia-rumlow]

A Helping Hand (Hydra Husbands One-Shot) X Reader!

Pairing: Brock Rumlow/Jack Rollins X Reader

Wordcount: 4803

Warnings: Gay sex, Oral sex, Threesome, Graphic smut, but sweet smut.

A/N: This is my entry to @rip1009 and @hydra-husbands summer challenge. I never wrote anything like this before. And I hope you´ll like it. A big thank you to @ladysif8 for her amazing help.

Summary: Brock and Jack wants a baby, so they ask their best friend (Reader) to help out!

HAPPY READING!

You hear heavy footsteps going through the house, almost immediately after you rang the doorbell. For a second you almost regret agreeing to this. Jack is your best friend, he has been for the last 20 years. You were the first one he came out to. Of course you did suspect that he was gay. He was always a good looking guy, and a lot of girls wanted him, but he never acted on it. So you had your suspicions. But you never told him. He'd come out to you in his own time, and you didn't want to push. It wasn't until he met Brock, that he had to reveal his secret. Brock was the love of his life, and a really great guy. They deserved this. You never hesitated when they asked you to do this. But now, standing here, with a bottle of red wine in your hand, hearing Jack's footsteps approaching the door. You can't deny that you have some second thoughts. 

__________________________________

- So, YN? What do you think?

Jack asks. You look from Jack to Brock, and then back to Jack again. 

What should you answer? You look at them again. They both look at you with anticipation. And you can see in their eyes that they want you to say yes. 

- Listen, YN, if you feel this is too….

Brock starts, but you cut him off. 

- Yes! 

You say, without even thinking. 

- Yes?

Jack asks, placing his hand over yours. 

- Yes, Jack! I'll do it. You'll be great parents. I want to help you. Do you have an appointment at the clinic?

You ask, looking at Jack again. He slowly removes his hand from yours. Clears his throat. 

- Err.. Yeah… About that…

Jack starts, looking down on his hands, drumming his fingers together. 

- We can't afford that… So…

He continues. 

- We kinda hoped you'd be open to like…

Brock takes over. Trying to look you in the eye, but you can see that it's hard for him. 

- To what?

You ask, narrowing your eyes. 

- Doingitthenormalway!

Jack says, fast, without even taking a breath. 

- The what?

You ask, reaching for his hand, trying to offer some comfort. 

- Err.. We kinda wondered if you'd…

Brock enters the conversation again, dragging his hand over his face. 

- If I'd sleep with you?

You ask, with a hoarse voice. You feel your heart beat a bit faster. 

- Err.. Yeah..

Jack says again. Trying to look at you. 

- Which one?

You ask, looking at both of them. How long have they been thinking about this? 

- Err.. Both of us?

Jack says, looking at Brock, before he looks back to you. Brock gives you a tiny nod. 

- B… Both… Of you?

You croak. Jack looks at you, nervously biting his bottom lip. 

- Yeah.. I… We both checked ourselves, we're perfectly healthy, and there's nothing wrong with…

He gestures to his crotch. 

- Your swimmers?

You ask, sending them both a little smile. 

- Yeah.. Nothing wrong with those..

Brock speaks again. 

- You don't have to answer right away. Just think about it, okay?

Jack tells you. Tugging his lips up in a nervous smile. 

- Err.. Would you even be able to do it? I mean with me? Aren't you both….

You say, letting the sentence die out. Can gay men even get a hard on with a girl? 

- We're both, all three of us going to be there. I don't think that'll be a problem…

Brock says, pleading you, with his eyes, hoping for you to say yes. 

- Don't you care who's it is? I mean, if I sleep with both of you…

You start, but Jack cuts you off. 

- It'll be ours. That's all that matters. And we both want you to be the mom. There's no one else we want for that role. 

Jack says, gently taking your hand in his, squeezing. 

- Okay!

You say. Squeezing Jack's hand back. 

- Okay?

They both say, at the same time. Smiling wide. 

- Yeah.. I can do that…

You say again. Unsure if you actually CAN do it. But you want to help them. They're your best friends, and they will be great parents. 

- Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!!

They both say, giving you a hug. You hug them back. 

- So, when did you think we were going to do this?

__________________________________

That was three weeks ago. You do want to do this for them. But you've never been with two guys at once before, and on top of that, both Jack and Brock are gay men. You don't even know if they've ever been with a girl before. 

The cerulean blue front door opened, and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread wrapped around your senses, sweet and yeasty. 

- YN! 

Jack greeted you, pulling you into a hug.

- Jack!

You squeaked as his big arms surrounded you. You barely got the bottle of wine moved in time. 

- Come on in, Brocks out back finishing up on the grill. 

Jack said, before he stepped aside, allowing you entrance to their home. 

You’d been there many times before, but it never ceases to amaze you how beautiful their two-story home is. The further you got into the house, the stronger the mouth-watering fragrance got. You weren’t surprised Jack loved to cook; he always whipped up something spectacular in the kitchen.

- Something smells amazing

You commented, handing Jack the bottle of wine. Before peeling out the sliding glass door that led to their fantastic backyard, Brock stood dutifully in front of the grill. 

Brock was perfect for Jack; he’d brought out the best in your friend. The missing piece Jack had no idea was missing; you were thankful he was operating the grill. Now Jack could cook the most delicious and tender roast you’d ever tasted, sweet curry that left a slight tingle on your tongue. But the man should not grill to save his life; gone were the days of dry steaks and burnt burgers.  

You sat at the rectangle-shaped dining room table; Jack handed you a glass of wine. The smokey, red currant flavor danced across your tongue.

- Oh hey, YN!

Brock greeted you as he walked in the door with a plate of steaks. He leans over and places the plate on the table, simultaneously kissing your cheek in greeting. 

It doesn’t take long for the table to be set, seared, juicy cuts of meat, a steaming plate of golden delicious sweet corn, a bowl of broccoli salad with thick, crispy chunks of bacon, fluffy baked potatoes, and golden brown, butter airy homemade rolls. Your mouth starts to water at the sight; Brock stands up, reaches across the table, grabs your plate, and fills it with a little bit of everything. 

- Here ya go, YN 

He says, placing the load plate before you as Jack tops off your wine glass.

The steak is seasoned just right; it’s so juicy and flavorful that the steak sauce isn’t needed. You scoop a bite of the broccoli salad, the creamy dressing for the tiny bits of crunchy fresh broccoli, the sharpness of the cheddar cheese, a touch of sweetness from the dried cranberries, smokiness from the bacon, the spiciness of the red onion, all balanced out. The corn was sweet with a soft butter flavor, and the rolls were by far your favorite, light, yeasty, buttery, and slathered with cinnamon butter.

- Wow, you really went all out on this one.

You say, closing your eyes, to really take in the taste. 

- Yeah? Well, only the best is good enough for the future mother of our child!

Brock replies, taking a sip of wine. 

You eat and drink for a while, talk about everything and anything. Just like you always used to do. Like a normal dinner. But you know it's not. This isn't a normal evening. 

When you're done eating, you help to clear the table. You feel the nervousness welling up in you. Will you be able to do this? Have Jack or Brock even been with a girl before? Are you going to watch them do stuff to each other? How should you react, if that happens? You never took an interest in what other people do in their own bedrooms. But now, you can't help but think about it. 

- Hey, YN! You ok?

Jack asks, gently rubbing your shoulders. 

- Yeah…

You reply. Taking a breath. 

- I'm just…

You continue. But you can't seem to find the right words. 

- We should probably talk about this. 

Jack says, guiding you over to the couch, and hands you another glass of wine. 

Jack sits down next to you, and not long after, Brock sits down on the other side of you. 

- We want you to feel completely safe, YN. So if you don't want to…

Brock starts, but you cut him off. 

- It's not that. I just have a couple of questions. 

You say, quietly. Looking from Brock to Jack. 

- Fire away! What do you want to know?

Jack asks, letting his hand rest on your thigh. 

- How…. How are we going to do this? 

You ask, swallowing. 

- You mean having sex?

Jack asks, jokingly. 

- Have you been with a girl before?

You ask again. Jack shakes his head, while Brock nods. You look at Brock. 

- How was that for you?

You ask. Probably a stupid question. But if you're going to do this, you feel like you need to know. 

- It was….. Different. 

Brock replies. Looking at Jack, as to make sure he doesn't hurt his feelings. 

- Were you… I mean…. Did you penetrate her?

You're usually pretty open about your sexuality, but this situation makes you nervous. And you feel that you should use nice words. 

- I was inside of her, yes!

Brock replies, with a little smile. 

Jack gets up, and you can almost feel Brock tense up. They're sweet. Not wanting to hurt each other's feelings. Maybe they are just as nervous as you are. 

- Let's move this into the bedroom!

Jack says, offering you a hand. You take it, and at the same time, you feel Brock taking your other hand; before they both guide you into the bedroom. 

You sit down on the bed, Jack and Brock do the same. Then you nervously drum your fingertips together. Jack places his hand on your shoulder; gently and carefully put a bit of pressure on it. 

- Why don't you lie down?

He tells you, and you do. Lie down on your back, with Jack on one side, and Brock on the other. 

- Want to tell us what you like?

Jack asks, placing a kiss on your neck. 

- Mmmmm.. That!

You answer, surprised about how good this actually feels. You move your head, to give Jack better access to your neck. Brock slips his arms around you, lifting you up in a sitting position, leaning your back against him; you can feel him taking off his shirt. Jack keeps kissing your neck, and you can feel your lower belly clenching, and your wetness flowing. 

You can't take it any longer, you grab your shirt, getting it off you. Brock opens the clip on your bra, and before you know it, you're down on your back again; Jack and Brock softly playing with your breasts. You close your eyes, as they both let their lips touch your skin. 

- Mmmmm… Ahhh..

You let out a breathless sigh as you feel two pairs of hands caressing your body. Your head lolls back, eyes slipping close, surrendering yourself to their touch. Someone’s hands, you can't tell now, are massaging your breasts as the other slides into your skirt, cupping your sex. You whimper as lips press into your neck and teeth tease the sensitive skin at your pulse. 

- You like this?

Brock husks into your skin. 

- I think she does, baby; she's so wet 

Jack chuckles roughly.

- Mmmm huh...

You answer, afraid to speak, afraid your voice would give out. 

You get lost in the sensation of hands and lips touching, caressing, licking, and sucking. Your blood is buzzing in your ears, making you feel dizzy. It's almost too much; it's intoxicating being between them. 

Their lips leave your body, and you frown slightly at the lack of attention. Brock’s hand on your breast starts massaging again as Jack’s finger rubs your clothed cunt; you open your eyes, blinking through the lusty haze. 

They lean into each other, lips pressed together in a sweet kiss; Brock licks along the seam of Jack’s lips. The blonde whimpers opening up for his husband as Brock dips his tongue in tasting the other man. The kiss turns dirty and fierce; it's hands down one of the sexiest things you've ever witnessed. Jack’s finger presses hard against you; you buck your hips feeling wonderful pressure against your swollen pussy. You bite your lip, moaning as you continue to watch.

- Want to join in?

Jack asks. You can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. 

- Mmmhmm..

You reply; before your lips meet theirs. Holy shit! This is amazing. Their tongues gliding over yours, your tongue between theirs. Soft, wet, sexy. You feel the need to open your eyes, to watch this unfold; but it just feels too damn good. 

Hands roaming over your body, soft moans escaping all three of you. Your bodies rubbing together, grinding against each other. 

- Ngsh.. Fuck!

You breathe out, as Jack's fingers slip into your underwear, and glides down your wet folds. 

- Want to taste her, sweetheart?

Brock husks, removes the rest of his clothes; as Jack removes yours, as well as his own. 

- You ok, with being on all fours?

Jack asks you, with a playful, yet lustful smile. He doesn't have to ask twice. That is one of your favorite positions. If the angle of the guy is correct, this is the best way to do it. At least orgasm wise. You arch your back as best you can, to give Brock better access to you. You don't know how many times he's done this. Hell, you don't even know if he ever penetrated Jack. Do gay men actually do that, or is that just something people tend to think? 

You don't get to finish that line of thoughts at all; before Brock enters you. Slow and careful, and Jack lies down and crawls under you. Aligning his face with your pussy, looking up on Brock penetrating you. Fuck! This is hot. You always thought Brock was hot. But he was gay, so you never thought about him this way. And Jack, well Jack had been your best friend for the last 20 years or so. You NEVER thought about him like this. Not until now. Jack is undoubtedly hot. And his cock, standing proud, right here in front of your face. It's beautiful. 

- Like what you see, sweetheart?

Brock breathes out behind you, slowly, agonizingly slowly moving. 

- Oh, yes, baby! Fuck, yes!

Jack answers under you. You can feel his breath on you. Fuck, how you want to hear him moan. Hear them both moan. 

You slowly lean down, careful not to move too fast, so you'll lose the feeling of Brock inside you, massaging your walls with every agonizingly slow movement. You let your tongue glide over Jack's erection. Slowly from base to tip, before you swirl your tongue around his tip. The taste of preecum hits your tastebuds right away. You slowly lick your lips. 

- Yes, Angel! You do that! Taste him!

Brock's voice behind you. Horny as fuck. And you don't blame him. This feels like sex herione, and you're unsure if you can live with doing this only this one time. You carefully close your lips around Jack, before you slowly start to bob your head. 

- Oh, fuck!

Jack moans under you; as he moves one of his hands up between your legs, letting it glide over you; before he focuses on Brock's balls, caressing them. 

- Shit, sweetheart! Oh, fuck!

Brock moans, thrusting harder. 

- Want to taste her, Jack, Sweetheart?

Brock continues, letting one of his hands glide up your back. 

- Oh, yes baby, please!

Jack answers, and Brock pulls out of you; still keeping his hand on your back. You feel Jack adjusting under you, and even if you can't see; you know that Jack is tasting you off Brock. Fuck you need to see this. You move slowly, careful not to ruin the sight you're about to see. You turn around, and your eyes meet Brock's; before you move them further South. 

FUCK!

Screw the kiss, this is by far the sexiest thing you've EVER witnessed. Jack on his back, swallowing Brock's cock down like he was starved for it. Like you're hypnotized by your two best friends pleasing each other; you move closer. 

- Oh, fuck, sweetheart.. Feels so good..

Brock moans out, as he reaches out for you, gently grabbing some of your hair, bringing your face up to his; devouring your lips in a filthy kiss. Moaning into your mouth, as Jack keeps taking him down. 

You can't help but open your eyes, and look down on Jack. You can't even begin to describe how sexy this is. It's better than any porn you've ever seen. 

- Fuck..

You silently breathe out. 

- Yeah… You like that, Angel?

Brock asks you. You move your hands down his upper body, until you feel Jack's face. 

- Want a taste?

Brock continues; without even answering, you sink down, letting your tongue glide around the parts of Brock's cock, that aren't inside Jack's mouth. You're more turned on than you have ever been before. You can almost feel your juices pouring out of you. 

Brock gestures for you to get on top of Jack. You carefully do so. But when you're about to sit down on him, you remember that Jack told you he'd never been with a girl before. Is he a virgin? At least penetration wise. Asking that question now, will surely ruin everything. So instead of asking, you decide on being careful. Gently grabbing Jack's cock, guiding it to your entrance. The second the fat head breaches you, Jack makes a sound from the back of his throat. Sounds like a good sound. But you still tense up a bit. 

Brock slowly pulls away from Jack; before he leans down for yet another filthy kiss. You slowly let yourself sink further down on Jack, slowly and carefully, until you're fully seated. 

- Fuck, Angel!

Jack breathes out, letting his hands glide up your thighs. 

- Yeah? You like this?

You ask, rolling your hips. 

- Oh, fuck, Angel. So soft!

Jack moans. You love this. Him moaning, Brock watching, as he strokes his fat cock. You start to move more aggressively. And wiggle your hips a bit, in the hopes that Jack'll hit that sweet sensitive spot inside. 

- Ahhh, ahhh.. Shit, fuck!

Jack almost screams the words. Then he plants his feet down on the mattress, grabbing your hips, and starts to fuck up into you. You let out a breathless moan, as you almost fall forward; meeting Jack's lips in a needy kiss. 

- Need to taste you baby!

Jack moans out; then he once again takes Brock's cock down, as he keeps fucking up into you. You can't possibly hold this. The sight of Jack sucking Brock like this, and the sensation of him fucking up into you. 

- Ahhhh.. Fuck me!

You scream out; before you take part in the lip, tongue and mouth work on Brock's cock. You're so turned on, you need to feel something rubbing against your swollen kissed lips. 

- Oh, fuck, Sweetheart! Let her taste me! Do it together!

Brock breathes out over your head. You feel the urge to look up at him. But what you're doing feels too good, so you continue. Letting your tongue glide up and down Brock's shaft, occasionally Brushing over Jack's tongue. Fucking hell, this is it. You're going to cum, and you're going to cum hard. You can feel it in your entire body. 

- Oh, fuck, shit.. Fisskh.. 

Jack moans, as he thrusts into you, in an unsteady rhythm, grabbing your hips with his big strong hands. You squeeze your legs around him, your whole body is shaking. Your pussy spasming around his fat cock. 

- Oh, fuck Angel! Gonna cum!

Jack moans out, before Brock steals the sound from his lips. The sight of them kissing, the feeling of Jack's last deep thrusts inside, before he paints your walls, the sound of Jack moaning into Brock's mouth. It all pushes you over the edge. And you let pleasure take over. You almost lose your balance, your body sways forward; lost in euphoria. Brock's strong arms prevent you from falling all the way down. 

You untangle yourself from Jack; lie down on your back. Brock comes over to you; let his hands glide from your ankles up to your knees, then he spreads your legs seductively. Leaning down; giving you a long, torturously slow lick. 

- Oh, fuck! Brock!

You moan; your head lolls back, your hands grabbing the sheets. 

- I can taste you on her, Sweetheart!

Brock tells Jack. 

- You're so fucking sexy right now, baby!

Jack replies, before leaning into your neck; breathing into it. 

- Ungh…

You breathe out, when you feel Brock's tongue glide over you again. 

- Sweetheart!?

Brock murmurs into your pussy; calling for his husband. Jack plants a kiss on your lips, before moving down between your legs; joining his husband. 

- Fuck Baby, look at you!

Jack breathes out, looking down on Brock's tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot. 

You let out a shaking breath. Just thinking about the two of them looking at you like this, makes you belly clench. You buck your hips. Almost desperate to feel more. Your eyes closed, to magnify your other senses.  

They both have their tongues on you now. Tasting you, occasionally bumping into each other. 

- Ahh.. Fuck! YES!

You moan! 

You feel Brock moving, sitting up between your legs. Jack's tongue glides over your clit. Followed by The tip of Brock's cock, gliding down through your folds. 

- Please!

You whine. Putting your hand on Jack's head. 

- Oh, baby, she likes it!

Jack says, letting his tongue glide over you again. 

- Yeah? You like this, Angel?

Brock asks you, simultaneously teasing your entrance. 

- Yes!

You breathe out, bucking your hips. Desperate to feel him breach you; when the fat head of his cock starts to stretch you out you move your hands up to your breasts. Carefully pinching your already peaking nipples. 

- Oh fuck, yes!

You moan, arching your back as you feel Jack's lips moving up your stomach. Before he sits up, give his growing cock a couple of strokes; then he settles on the side of your face, as he keeps stroking himself, slowly. 

- Ahhh, ahh..

Brock breathes out, when you clench your muscles around him. This whole situation is so hot, that you're afraid you'll finish too soon. 

- Fuck Angel! YES! Taste him for me!

Brock moans again. And you grab Jack, before you close your lips around him.  

You feel like you're levitating off the bed. Fuck. Both of them, enjoying both you and each other. It's the most intense thing you've ever experienced. 

- Oh, yes.. Baby!

Jack moans out, slowly pulling out of your mouth, before Brock leans in for a kiss. You're almost out of breath already, and the kiss steals more air from your longues. You close your eyes again, take a deep breath. Telling yourself that this is real. 

When you open your eyes again, you're looking straight up at Brock, swallowing Jack's cock down; as he keeps pounding into you with renewed force. Holy fuck, how enormeously sexy this is. You can't help it, you need to join in on this. You lift your hand up, letting it glide over Jack's balls, before you lift your head, and let your lips and tongue touch them. 

- Yes! Fuck, Angel!

Jack moans out, almost desperate. And you can feel his balls drawing up. Oh, holy fuck. Is he going to cum? You so want to see this. But you're ripped out of the beautiful sight when Brock's cock hits that delicious spot inside you. 

- Nghssk…

You almost scream, before you lift your legs up, and wrap them around Brock, pushing him in, as deep as he goes. Your eyes closed, you're totally wrapped up in feeling this. Your desperate moans almost sound like screams. 

A couple of hard thrusts inside you, and Brock leans into you. Whispering into your skin.

- Ahhh.. Oh…. Fuck, Angel. You're amazing!

You slowly open your eyes. Brock is still on top of you. Breathing heavily, just like you. Jack lies on his side next to you, looking at you, smiling. 

- You're beautiful, Angel. You know that?

Jack tells you, letting his hand brush over your hair. You send your friend a smile. You both know that you just took your friendship to a new level. Nothing could ever ruin the friendship between you. But this sure is something new. Not only did you sleep with him, you also slept with his husband, and you watched them have sex as well. You can't get over how incredibly sexy THAT was. 

Brock carefully untangles himself from you, rolls over to his side next to you. Placing his hand on your stomach, Jack does the same. You look at them. 

- You really, really want a baby, don't you? 

You ask, feeling the responsibility of actually getting pregnant, and carrying the baby to term dawn on you. 

- Yes, Angel, we really, really want a baby. But…

Jack replies, and you know that look he has in his eyes, so you cut him off. 

- No, Jack. Don't think like that. I'll do this for as many times as it takes to get this right. 

You tell him, lifting your hand up to his face. 

- Ok, Jack? I have no problems with this.

You tell him, and then you feel Brock's arm sliding around your waist. 

- Good, because we wanted to run something by you.

He says, getting a nervous "Really? Now?" Look from his husband. 

- Ok?

You reply, turning your head towards Brock. 

- We want you to be the mom!

Brock tells you. You open your mouth to reply that you already said yes to that. But Brock continues, stopping you, before you even get a word out. 

- We want you to BE the mom. We want the little one to know that you are the mom. We don't want to use formula, and we want you to be part of the baby's life. Every day!

Brock says, swallowing nervously, when he's done. 

- What does that mean?

You ask, looking at them both. 

- I don't think it's healthy for any child to have two different homes. I'm so…

Again you're being cut off. This time by Jack. 

- We want you to move in here. We have a room for you, and plenty of space. We love you. And it will make it easier for everyone. 

Jack gives you a "please say yes look". 

- And then you can move out of the shithole of a rental you have. You live on the fourth floor, and you don't even have an elevator. How are you supposed to walk those stairs when you're this big?

Jack gestures with his hands how big you're going to get. 

- Are you serious? Why didn't you say this right away?

You ask, looking at them. 

- I'm not mad. I'm just surprised!

You add, when you see the look on their faces. 

- So…. What do you say?

Jack asks, giving his husband a quick glance. With the way he's looking at you, and the way you can almost feel Brock's nervousness behind you. You know what is the right thing to do here. 

- Yes, ok.. I'll move in. 

You say, giving Jack a little smile, and then his whole face lights up, almost the same way it did when he told you he'd met Brock. 

Brock lifts himself up on his forearms, leans over you; giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, then he gets up. 

- Ok. I'm gonna pour you a bath. And while you're in there, resting up. I'm gonna whip up some late night snacks for us. 

They're like two five year olds on Christmas morning. You can't help but smile at them. Your two best friends, and you, and hopefully a baby, when that time comes. How many times will it take, to get this right? Will you continue this after? Was it as good for them as it was for you? It obviously didn't ruin anything, because you're moving into their home. This wasn't exactly how you'd picture how it'd go down, when you thought about becoming a mom. But to be perfectly honest, this is the best way. It'll be perfect. You know it will. 

@nekoannie-chan @bat-mar @late-to-the-party-81 @here4thefanfics @rip1009 @there-goes-thefighter @differenttyphoonwerewolf @saiyanprincessswanie @ladysif8 @the-ero-writer

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[freakrenaissance]

This series, y'all!!! Omg! It's been hard to get through the rumlow parts, cuz I fucking hate him so much! But it's sooo worth it to get the protective bucky payoff. This chapter had it all... omg, when he crushed her ring in his metal hand? I was done for 🤤 looooove this! Ooh, & i love the other boys having her back! The gang! So perfect... even steve is protective, sooo hot

Pretty Little Thing Part 5

18+ Minors dni

Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage), Steve, Sam, Peter, x reader (Platonic) 

A/N: Here is part 5 (is it really cheating when your husband is an abusive bitch boi?) Bucky is the sweetest, Rumlow is unhinged, but is that really surprising? Please like, comment and reblog! <3

Warnings: SMUTTT, ANGST, forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, FLUFF Bucky is a sweet heart. 

Word count: 2.8k

Part 4 here

Bucky laid on top of you, allowing himself to get lost with your lips, his hands caressing your waist holding you close. You moaned against him, loving the way you felt safe under the weight of his body covering you, protecting you. Your body moved on its own, needing him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist, fingers carding through his hair. Bucky groaned as your kiss got more heated, breaking away for air.

“Y/n…” His voice was raspy, pulling back to look at you, his thumb caressing your cheek softly. You whimpered at the loss of contact, as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Doll, let me take care of you first. I won’t let you go baby, you’re safe here with me” You blinked up at him, confused about what he wanted to do as he got up, chuckling at your adorable lost face. “Wait here, okay?”

He smiled softly, kissing your nose before making his way over to the bathroom, filling the tub up with warm water, adding oils and soaps, allowing the bubbles to rise, nearly spilling over the brim. You sat up on the bed, listening to the water run wondering what Bucky was doing.

“Let’s get you cleaned up babydoll” Bucky carried you over to the bathroom, setting you own on the sink counter; the steam from the water warming the room. Bucky rummaged through the drawers, getting out a soft washcloth and hair brush. He gently detangled your hair, using his fingers to comb through the harsher knots so he wouldn’t hurt you. You looked at the brush quizzically, wondering why he’d have one when he didn’t have particularly long hair. Bucky noticed your shifting, reading your mind as he continued to brush through your hair.

Keep reading

[societyfolklore]

 Favour - Part 1

Title: Favour (Part 1 of 3) Pairing: ClubOwner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  When your boyfriend messes up with the wrong people he offers you up as free labour in Bucky Barnes Club.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut (eventually) DubCon (squint), forced labour, Jerk boyfriend, swearing, threatening behaviour, eventual violence and blood.    

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Bucky 108th Bday event  Will be posting the whole fic over March (hopefully) Square: a1 – Clubowner AU Card Number: 4B003 The night air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and bad decisions. The Winter King wasn’t the kind of club where mistakes went unnoticed. It was a place where men like Bucky Barnes built empires and burned anyone who got in their way. And tonight, Brock Rumlow was about to learn that firsthand.

You barely had time to throw on fresh clothes before Brock was pulling you out the door. He had been pissed the second you got home- late because of the damn train delays- and even more pissed that you didn’t change fast enough.

“Told you to wear something nicer. Something more.” His fingers gestured vaguely at his own chest, scowling at the modest neckline of your top. *“*You know- show off the girls a little.”

You ignored him, just like you always did when he got like this. You were already exhausted from work, and now you were being dragged by the wrist into Winter King- the club Brock and his friends frequented- but no one explained to you why. Only that it had something to do with a 'favor' 

“Don’t say anything, alright?” Brock hissed under his breath as you approached the entrance. “Just stand there and look pretty.”

Your stomach churned. You weren’t stupid- you knew Brock was into some underhanded things. Once upon a time, that had been thrilling. You had liked the way he made your head spin, the rough stubble, the gruffness, the edge of something dangerous.

But now? Now he was just Brock. And you were starting to see through the cracks.

“These guys are a big deal,” Brock muttered as you neared the door, adjusting his jacket. “So just... let me talk, okay? Hopefully, I can get out of this mess.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What mess, Brock?”

He didn’t answer right away. The grip on your wrist tightened. “Just need more time.”

That was all the confirmation you needed.

Your stomach sank. You had been through this cycle before- Brock needed time, which meant Brock owed money.

“This got to do with that truck?” you whispered.

Brock’s jaw ticked. His fingers twitched at his side before his grip on your wrist tightened sharply, a silent warning. His eyes flicked toward the bouncers at the door, then back to you, voice dropping lower. “Shut up.” The words came out as a hiss, sharp and laced with frustration, but there was something else there, too- something uneasy. He didn’t want you talking, not just because he was annoyed, but because he was afraid of what you might say.

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, rubbing at the sore spot he left behind. “You always do this,” you muttered, voice sharp but quiet enough not to draw attention.

Brock shot you a glare. “Do what?”

“Get in over your head,” you snapped. “Drag me into it without telling me a damn thing.” Like the time you'd had to drain your savings to pay back a bookie. 

His face darkened. “Don’t start, alright? Not now.”

“Not now?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You didn’t tell me shit before we got here, Brock. You didn’t say anything about money, about owing someone like Barnes- ”

“I said shut up.” His voice was low, dangerous. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you like that. But tonight, it cut deeper.

He was supposed to handle a job for Bucky- whether it was moving product, money laundering, or setting up a deal- but he botched it.

Worse? His failure cost Bucky money. A lot of it.

Now, he owes, and in Bucky’s world, debts always get paid.

Inside Bucky’s office, the tension was suffocating.

He took a few steps inside, rolling his shoulders like he was settling into familiar territory, but there was an edge to it- like he was waiting to see how Bucky would respond before pushing too far. His confidence wasn’t quite as effortless as he wanted it to be. "Gotta say, the place looks different when it's not packed wall-to-wall with people. You almost get to appreciate the decor."

Bucky didn’t respond. Didn’t even look up right away. He simply sat behind his desk, fingers drumming idly against his glass of whiskey, the weight of his silence stretching thick in the air.

Rumlow cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "Didn’t know you were gonna call me in so soon, Barnes Figured I had a little more time to- "

"Cut the bullshit," Bucky cut in, finally lifting his gaze. His voice was smooth as silk, but carried the weight of iron. "Now, where’s my fucking money?"

Rumlow barely sat down before the excuses started pouring out. "Look, I don’t know what to tell ya." He tried to sound charming, like he could talk his way out of this, but even you could hear the desperation lurking beneath it. "The intel was bad, alright? The cops showed up, I barely got outta there with half the shipment- "

Bucky exhaled sharply, amusement flickering across his face before it disappeared into something colder. He rolled the glass between his fingers, the ice clinking softly, before taking a slow sip. His other hand adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, movements unhurried, controlled- like a man who had already decided the outcome of this conversation before it even started. “Cops? Thought you were smarter than that, Rumlow.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You still owe. You think I just give out extensions?”

Rumlow’s face twisted in frustration. “Come on, Barnes. I did you a favor, fronting up this little venture, I'm out too.”

Bucky’s fingers stopped drumming. The room grew eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle. Then, he let out a low chuckle. “Oh you're out of pocket..” he echoed. “I took a chance on you for this job. You said you could handle it, promised to deliver, and now I'm out of pocket and short inventory.”

Rumlow clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling under the surface. “My boys and I are good for this. But I can't control everything, Buck- ”

Bucky’s expression darkened instantly. “It’s still Barnes to you, Rumlow.”

Your stomach twisted as you shifted awkwardly in your seat. The neon glow of the club lights flickered against the dark mahogany of the office. You didn’t belong here.

You never did.

But when Brock told you he was in trouble, when he said he just needed 'a little favor,' you hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be brought here- to him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a club owner. He was something else entirely. The kind of man that made people lower their voices when they spoke his name. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make people listen. And right now, he was looking at you like he was deciding whether or not you were worth the effort.

Rumlow shifted in his seat, desperation oozing from him. “Look, I don’t have the money yet, you know I can get it sorted, I just need some time. But I got an offer. Help ease the sting a bit.”

Bucky arched a brow, not even trying to hide his boredom. “Enlighten me.”

Rumlow gestured to you.

“She can work for you- bartending, club floor, whatever you need. She’s not useless.”

Your head whipped around.

Was your boyfriend serious? You had a job- a copywriter at an advertising agency. Not this.

“She used to do this in college,” Rumlow continued, barely sparing you a glance. “She can pull her weight.”

The air in the room shifted.

For the first time, Bucky actually looked at you. Really looked at you. His gaze swept over your frame, slow and considering. Not in the way Rumlow did, not like you were something to be used and discarded. No, Bucky Barnes looked at you like he was measuring your worth.

A lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re offering me your girl to pay off your debt?” he asked, amusement flickering through his tone. “That’s low. Even for you.”

You opened your mouth- to protest, to argue, to say something- but Rumlow beat you to it.

“She can handle herself,” he insisted. “It’s just bartending. You get free labor, she'll even hand over tips.”

Bucky hummed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He turned his attention back to you. “That true?” he asked. “You need a job?”

Your pulse pounded.

Before you could even open your mouth, Brock scoffed. "She’s got a day job. But a second job at night wouldn’t kill her."

Bucky's eyes flicked between you and Rumlow, lips curling, not quite amused, not quite impressed. His tone, when it came, was low and edged with something dangerous, a quiet warning wrapped in velvet. "You always let him talk for you, sweetheart? Or you got a voice of your own?"

Your jaw tightened. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to owe anyone anything. But your options were slim to none, and you could feel Rumlow’s grip tightening on your wrist. A warning.

This wasn’t a question. Not really.

And yet, something about the way Bucky watched you made it impossible to lie.

“…I can work nights,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky exhaled a slow, knowing chuckle. Then, he leaned back in his seat, draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Alright,” he said. “You work for me now.”

Rumlow let out a relieved breath. “Good, so we got a deal- ”

Bucky’s gaze snapped back to him. “Oh no,” he corrected. “You still owe me. She just bought you a little more time.”

Rumlow’s nostrils flared, his grip tightening on you again, but Bucky’s tone was enough to shut him up.

“Careful,” Bucky murmured, watching the way Rumlow’s fingers dug into your skin. “You’re already in deep. Don’t make it worse.”

Rumlow hesitated, then released you, jaw clenched tight.

Your throat felt dry. "His mess is my mess," you murmured before you could stop yourself- your mother’s voice in your head, telling you to be loyal, even when it hurt.

You could still hear her words, crisp as the winter air back home. Family sticks together. Loyalty is everything. You don’t abandon the people you love, even when they make mistakes.

But was this loyalty? Or just fear of what came next if you let go?

No, just too stupid to get out while you still could.

For the first time that night, you realized just how screwed you really were.

[insidekatmind]

HYDRA- BROCK RUMLOW

Wearning: +18,angst, smut.

Request: yes!

It was an ordinary day or at least it seemed that way. The sunlight filtered through the blinds in your room, drawing streaks of light on the floor. You stretched lazily, your body still wrapped in the warmth of the bed. Brock had kissed you goodbye quickly that morning, leaving with an excuse about an emergency at work.

“Don’t be late,” you had said, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“Promise, Y/N,” he replied, a smile he could never quite hide completely.

You never thought too much about the fact that he worked for S.H.I.E.L.D., even though his position was shrouded in secrecy. "Protocol," he would say whenever you asked about his work. And you, trusting him, never pushed too hard for answers. But that evening, everything changed.

You were in the living room, immersed in a book, when an unusual sound from Brock’s phone caught your attention. He had left it on the table before heading out, something he never did. The persistent vibration and the words “Operation Herald” flashing on the screen piqued your curiosity.

“Strange…” you thought.

Biting your lower lip, you hesitated between ignoring it and checking. Curiosity won out. Swiping the screen quickly, you found a cryptic message:

“Mission compromised. Eliminate Y/N if necessary.”

The blood froze in your veins. You must have read it wrong. You reread the message, hoping it was a mistake. But no, it was there, clear as day.

When Brock returned that evening, your heart was pounding. You tried to act normal, but he knew you too well.

“Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head as he took off his jacket.

“Yeah, sure,” you lied.

But it wasn’t so easy to hide your nervousness. During dinner, he watched you in silence. Every now and then, his eyes seemed to scan you, as if searching for something. After clearing the dishes, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Brock,” you began, your voice tense, “what is Hydra?”

He froze. The spoon he was drying stopped mid-air. His eyes pierced through you, cold as ice.

“Why are you asking?” he replied slowly, with a forced calm that sent shivers down your spine.

“I found a message on your phone.” You were direct. There was no way to sugarcoat the truth.

The tension in the room became palpable. Brock set the spoon down and approached you slowly, as if afraid you might run.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his tone low and menacing. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Shouldn’t have done what? Found out you’ve been lying to me this whole time? Found out you’re… you’re one of them?”

His face twisted for a moment, then his demeanor changed. The mask fell, revealing a man you had never seen before.

“And if it’s true?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I am Hydra, does it change anything? Am I not the same man you love?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You have the nerve to ask me that? You’re a traitor, Brock! Everything we have… is it a lie?”

“Not everything,” he countered. “I love you, Y/N. That’s real. But there are bigger things at play. Hydra is the future. And I want you to be part of it.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. I can’t…”

Brock stepped closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Don’t make this harder, Y/N. Come with me. I’ll protect you. No one will hurt you.”

“Protect me?” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “From the world or from you?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Brock stared at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Then you’ve made your decision,” he said, his voice icy. “What a shame. I would’ve liked to have you by my side.”

You didn’t wait for him to say more. With one last, pained look, you ran out the door, your heart shattered and only one certainty left: the man you loved was your worst enemy.

But you knew this wasn’t the end. Brock Rumlow would find you. And this time, you’d be ready.

---

Five months had passed since that event and you now lived alone in a small studio apartment.You walked into your apartment and placed your bag on the couch and felt like you were being watched.

Sitting in a darkened corner, a tall, built silhouette watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your form.His gaze burned through the shadows, observing your every move. He was like a statue, still and silent, but his presence was suffocating, filling the room with a tension that sent shivers down your spine.

Brock Rumlow had found you, just as you had expected. The question was, what would he do now?

You turn on the light and there's Brock sitting there. "What are you doing here?" You murmur without moving closer to him.

Brock doesn't move, just keeps looking at you intently, his icy gaze fixed on your form."Isn't it obvious?" he says in a low voice, tilting his head slightly, his eyes roaming over your face. "I had to find you."He stands up slowly, and only now it's clear how imposing he is. He's towering over you, his muscular frame like a wall of muscle, his presence suffocating.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face.“You look good,” he says finally, his voice a low, almost growl. “I missed you.”The confession hangs in the room for a long moment, like a dagger pointed straight at your heart. But you don’t let the emotion show on your face, keeping your expression neutral, guarded.

He takes another step closer, almost closing the distance between you. His eyes roam over your body hungrily, taking in every inch of you.“You’re still wearing the necklace I gave you,” he says, his gaze suddenly fixing on the small charm that hangs around your neck. It’s a delicate silver heart, a silent reminder of happier times.

Instinctively you touch your necklace, averting your gaze and moving away a little.

He notices the gesture, and a smirk twitches on his lips.“Don’t pretend you didn’t miss me.”Brock follows you, closing the distance again in a few strides. He’s now standing so close that you can feel his body heat, his presence overwhelming.

He reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck.“I know you better than you know yourself, Y/N,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I know how your body reacts when I touch you. Here…”His fingers trail down to your collarbone, caressing lightly. You shiver involuntarily under his touch.

“And here…”His hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer with an almost effortless strength. Your body responds without consent, your pulse quickening. You try to hold back, but it’s harder than you thought.

"What are you doing here Brock?" You whisper, looking at him.

“I told you,” he says, his voice a guttural whisper, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “I had to find you.”

Brock leans down, his forehead touching yours lightly, his hands still on your waist, holding you firmly. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the scent of his aftershave so familiar it makes your heart ache.

"Why?" you try trying not to give in and hold him tight.

“Because I couldn’t let you go like that,” he responds, his voice filled with an odd mix of anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place.

Brock pulls you closer, his body nearly molding against yours. He’s holding you tight now, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hands are on your back, his fingers pressing into your skin almost possessively.

You lean into his chest and sigh, closing your eyes for a second. "How did you find me?" You murmur into his chest.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in the scent of you, committing it to memory.“I have my ways,” he finally says, his voice rumbling in his chest. He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. “You can never hide from me, Y/N. You’re mine. Don’t forget that.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the possessive tone stirring up a mixture of emotions. You pull back a little, looking up at him.

“I’m not yours, Brock. Not anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “You made that choice when you lied to me, when you chose Hydra over me.”

His jaw clenches at your words, his eyes darkening.“You make it sound so simple,” he retorts, his voice taking on a harsher edge. “But it’s not, Y/N. It’s not simple at all.”

He steps back, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He’s clearly struggling, some inner conflict playing out on his face.“I never wanted to lie to you,” he says finally, his voice quieter than before. “I needed to protect you. I still do.”Brock looks at you with such intensity that it’s almost overwhelming. He’s silently pleading for understanding, for forgiveness, but you’re too hurt to give it easily.

You look at him biting your lip. “Did you kill anyone?”

He hesitates, his silence speaking volumes. When he finally answers, his voice is low, rough.“Yes,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering.

You can see the weight of his words hanging in the air, the reality of what he’s done sinking in.“Why?” you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. “How many?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his eyes going distant as if remembering something. After a moment, he looks at you, his face hard.“Enough,” he says, his voice cold, emotionless.

His silence is maddening, each unanswered question hanging between you like a heavy cloud. This isn’t the man you knew, the man who held you close and whispered words of love and comfort. This is someone else, a stranger wearing the face of the love of your life.

"Would you kill me too if they asked you?" you ask, looking at him.

He flinches at your question, the hurt in your eyes cutting through his cold exterior.“No,” he says, his voice suddenly ragged, the coldness seeping away. “I couldn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t.There’s a desperation in his voice, a frantic edge that betrays his inner struggle. He takes a step closer to you again, his hands coming up to cradle your face tenderly.

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes.He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you firmly. He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters into your hair, his voice low and rough. “I’m sorry for everything, Y/N.” Brock repeats the words like a mantra, holding you tightly, as if afraid you’ll slip from his grasp.

You melt at his touch and his words and decide to forgive him. You hug him tighter and rub his back.

He lets out a deep sigh, his body relaxing as he melts into your embrace. He buries his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.“I missed you so much,” he murmurs, his voice muffled. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t seen before, the facade of the stoic field agent slipping.

“you too” you whisper.His eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail as if seeing you for the first time. Then, without warning, he claims your lips in a passionate kiss, crushing you against him.

He kisses you desperately, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. He tastes like you remembered - a mix of cigarettes and coffee, a flavor that was once so familiar that you almost forgot it. His hands roams over your body, as if trying to remember the shape of you, the feel of you.

You kiss back, holding onto Brock as you kiss him more passionately.He moans into your mouth, the sound a low, guttural rumble. He backs you up until you hit a wall, pinning you there with his body. He’s everywhere - his hands, his mouth, his breath, the solid bulk of him pressing into you. The world outside seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a moment of raw, desperate passion.

His lips move down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands slide under your shirt, caressing your skin as he kisses down to the hollow of your collarbone. He’s everywhere, all around you, his touch sending electric shivers down your spine.

You moaned at his touch and kisses and gave him more space as you closed your eyes in pleasure.He grins against your skin at your noises. He’d always loved the sounds he could get out of you, and hearing them now only fueled his desire. His lips continued their path down your neck, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of small, dark marks on your skin.

His hands were everywhere, roaming over your stomach, your sides, your back. He was rough, almost greedy, as if making up for lost time. He pushed your shirt out of the way, his mouth blazing a path down your chest, his breath hot against your skin.He pressed you more firmly against the wall, his body trapping you there. You felt vulnerable under his touch, exposed, but also desired in a way that only he could make you feel. He nipped and sucked at the soft skin of your chest, leaving more marks, his body pressing into you with a mixture of possessiveness and need.

Brock immediately takes off your jeans and did the same with his and then picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.He carries you with ease, his muscles rippling under his shirt. He pushes open the bedroom door and deposits you onto the bed before climbing over you, his body trapping you again. He looks down at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and something else, something deeper, darker.

“Brock,” you murmur as you take off his shirt.He helps you undress him, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight of his bare chest sends a shiver down your spine, the taut muscles and tanned skin so familiar yet so new at the same time. He leans back down, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin against yours like fire.

He takes off his boxers and pulls down your thong to enter you. While doing this he kissed you passionately.He kisses you hungrily, as if trying to convey with his lips all the things he can’t say out loud. He’s rough, his hand gripping your hip possessively, but there’s also a tenderness in the way his lips caress yours. He pulls you closer, molding your body to his, as if he can’t get enough of you.

You moan through the kisses feeling his strong movements.He responds to your moans, his movements becoming more intense, more desperate. He’s holding nothing back, every thrust driven by a primal need to claim you as his. He’s lost in you.“I missed this,” he grits out, his voice ragged and low. “I missed you, missed being this close to you, missed the way you feel under me.”

You moan at his words and cling to him. “Me too Brock, I missed you so much” you whisper.He growls at your admission, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice a hoarse whisper against your ear. “Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed you so much” you say moaning feeling his thrusts get stronger.Brock groans, the sound deep and primal, as if he’s holding on by a thread. He kisses you, hard, his tongue tangling with yours. “You have no idea how much I need to hear that,” he mutters against your lips. “How long I’ve needed to hear you say it.”

He kisses you again, deeper, more hungrily, as if trying to consume you. His body is moving against yours in a primal rhythm, the raw need between you building with each passing second. “You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive. “Say it.”

You moaned at his possessiveness and his thrusts that became more and more animalistic. "I'm yours, all yours Brock".The words seem to unleash something in him. He grips you tighter, his fingers digging into your skin almost possessively. “That’s right,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

He starts to move faster, the pace more frantic, more desperate. He kisses you again, as if he can’t get enough of your mouth, of your taste. “Say it again,” he says, his voice ragged and low. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You moan at his thrusts and scratch his back. "Yours, only yours".His body tenses at your words, his muscles rippling under your hands. “Damn right you are,” he mutters, his voice thick with a mix of desire and something darker, something possessive. “You’re mine, and I’m gonna make sure you never forget it.”

He moves faster, more urgently, his hands roaming over your body, as if caressing every inch of you. He kisses, bites, and sucks at your skin, marking you as his, everywhere he can reach. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice thick and ragged. “No one else’s.”A sense of almost frenzied desperation seems to take over, fueled by months of separation and the weight of what he’s done. There’s an edge to his movements, a fierce need to claim you, body and soul. “Mine,” he repeats, a primal growl in his voice. “You’re all mine, Y/N.

Always.”You moan and hold onto him. "I'm coming".He moans, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “Come for me,” he mutters, his voice tight and ragged. “Come for me, and say my name. I need to hear you.”

His thrusts became harder and you screamed louder and louder. “Brock” you yelled as you came.He grunts, his body tensing as he responds to your release. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Say it again,” he growls, his voice rough. “Say my name again.”

You screamed his name louder and louder as he came inside you.He groaned as he came, his body shuddering against yours. He buried his face in your hair, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. “Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough and ragged. “I… I…”

He trails off, seemingly lost for words. The raw emotion in his voice is clear, a rare vulnerability showing through the gruff exterior. He stays there for a moment, his body still pressed against yours. He seems suddenly young, like the boy you fell in love with so many years ago.He pulls back slightly, looking down at you. His eyes are dark, still filled with need and desire, but there’s something more there now - a depth, a vulnerability. “I love you,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I always will.”

You smile softly at his words and kiss his cheek. “I love you too and will always love you Brock” you say sweetly.His expression softens, something like relief flickering across his face. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing tenderly over your skin. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile and stroke his hair.He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes roaming over you as if trying to memorize every feature. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. “I never deserved you. But I’m never letting you go again. I need you too damn much.”

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you possessively. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly fierce again. “Every part of you, completely mine.”

[ramp-it-up]

Yeah. Kinda love this one.

Thanks for the Reblog! 😁

Taste

Pairing: Mob Boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic); Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic); Brock Rumlow x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: around 4K

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Childhood hoods, childhood crush, childhood nicknames based upon appearance, young Brock, Steve, Bucky and Sam, skinny Stevie Rogers, sibings being sibings, bratty behavior, Angst, allusion to underage drinking and crime, toxic parents, protective bothers, allusions to underaged drinking, bratty behavior, a punch in the nose (accidental), bloody nose, shirtless Sam, kind of innocent reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) loss of virginity, pain during sex, p in v, raw sex (wrap it or don’t tap it), praise kink, after care. This entire fic is comprised of two flashbacks.

A/N: This is in the same AU Try a Little Tenderness and The Representative, and comes directly after Addicted To You. The AU is called This Thing of Ours.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

You were ten years old, it was 2002, and you were spending the summer in Brooklyn at your father’s house. 

It was long before the mob war that he created which separated your brother Brock from his best friends. 

And it was a time that would change you forever.

The July afternoon was hot and so was the block. Music was blaring from the speakers of someone’s radio and there was a buzz in the air: adolescence, ambition and a potential for violence. 

Keep reading

[itwasthereaminuteago]

Okay just tossing some ideas out of my head... TW for non consent:

The Winter Soldier is sent on a mission to take out a foreign diplomat, and it just happens that you are his target's security detail.

You're always there, always in the way, in his sights, scuppering every shot, foiling all his attempts.

Rumlow, his handler, is pissed off. They can't return to the Hydra base until this mission is successfully completed, so he goes undercover, gets an invite to a fancy gala dinner with all those bigwigs where he can get your attention, distract you.

And oh, how he distracts you. You're usually so focused on your job you have no time for socialising, nevermind dating, but somehow he's slick and tears your defenses right down, and quickly has you open and vulnerable in your hotel room just upstairs, minutes away from where the Soldier is drawing a knife across your charge's throat.

When he calls in to inform his handler, Rumlow instructs him to come up to the room, he's already got you pliant and fucked out, but as soon as you see the glint of that metal arm you realise what's happened, how stupid and careless you've been.

But it's too late, you're cuffed, gagged, and no-one knows where you are. How could you have been so reckless?

You tense even more as Rumlow beckons Bucky over to where he's got you all wrapped up and prone on the bed.

"Got a little present for you. I've already had my turn, hope ya don't mind sloppy seconds."

😵‍💫

[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!

[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

[talia-rumlow]

Escort To The Multiverse (X Reader) Chapter Twelve - Let´s See If We Can Make Some Magic!

Pairing: Jack Rollins & Brock Rumlow X Reader

Wordcount: 1293

Warnings: BDSM, Non-Con Elements, Adult Toys, Blood, Threesome (M/M/F), Strong Language

DISCLAIMER: Minors DNI. This is an 18+ story, with rough elements in it. Do not interact if this triggers you!

It’s Rollins who opens the door. He looks the same as last time. Hair held in place by hair gel, all black clothing, and that hard, intimidating look. You swallow. How is this night going to end? What are they planning on doing with you. After what you heard outside, you feel a little nervous.

– Welcome! How has this week been treating you?

You look up at Rollins. What the hell? Are you suppose to make friends with these guys? Or is this just a part of one of their twisted plans to BDSM you into the next millennium?

– Pretty good actually. You?

– Well, you know how it is. Work, all work. Come on in!

Rollins puts a hand on your back and guides you inside. You look around. Rose petals, candles. What the fuck is this? What are they up to? Is this some kind of twisted sex fantasy? You’ve seen some BDSM porn, most of it during this last week actually. To sorta prepare you for what you could expect from tonight. But none of the videos you saw online looked anything like this. You swallow again.

– You don’t like roses?

Rumlow finally talks. You look over at him. But you don’t say anything. He laughs a little, and gives you a half smile.

– I want you to help me live out a fantasy I have….

Including Rose petals and candles? This rough agent guy have a fantasy including roses? Yeah, right! It’s not like you haven’t gotten requests like this before. In fact a lot of your clients wants you to live out their fantasies with them. But that’s usually romantic stuff. Lonely guys, who wants to live a 9-5 life, with wifes and all that. It could be dinner at a fancy restaurant and later sex at the hotel, stuff like that. Romantic, cosy stuff. And you have a feeling that THIS is not that kind of fantasy.

– Lose the clothes!

Rollins comes up behind you. Talks in a firm, demanding tone. You start to turn around, but Rollins stops you. Holding your shoulders, keeping you in place.

– I didn’t say turn around! I said lose the fucking clothes!

You remove your dress. Rollins still stands behind you. His hands now in your hair. You look at Rumlow, who is taking a couple of steps towards you. Suddenly Rollins takes a firm grip of your hair, yanks your head back.

– Everything!

You lift your arms to remove your underwear. But Rollins’ other hand grabs them before you can start.

– Too Late slut!

Rumlow is now all the way up in your face. Looking at you. Just like last time, he takes a grip of your chin

– You didn’t learn to listen last time, did you? You think flogging is the worst thing you can experience? Think again, fucking whore!

– I’m sorry! I’ll listen. I’ll take it off. I… I want you to do stuff to me…

Rumlow takes a hold of your throat. Just like last time. Holds just tight enough for you to get some air. Then he lets his lips touch yours. It’s not a kiss, not really. He just kinda talks literally all the way up in your face.

– Shut Up!

You don’t say anything. With Rumlows hold of your throat, you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to.

– That’s a good little slut! Keep your mouth shut, until we tell you to open it!

With that he lets go of your throat. And Rollins lets go of you as well, and moves so both of them stands in front of you. You feel like you’re on display.

– What did we tell you to do?

You don’t dare to answer. You don’t even dare to open your mouth. So you just remove your underwear. They’re not moving, they just looks at you. Even after you’re completely naked, they’re still just looks you up and down.

Rumlow turns away from you, goes over to the desk, and picks up two roses. What’s with these fucking roses? Rumlow then comes over to you, and hands you both the roses.

– Hold them!

You take the roses, carefully between your thumb and index finger, so you don’t hurt yourself on the thorns. Rumlow looks at you, and shakes his head.

– I said HOLD THEM!

You swallow. You still don’t dare to speak, so you can’t ask what he means by that. But, you don’t have to. Rumlow takes the roses from you again, and gives them to Rollins. Then he turns back to you.

– Open your hands!

You look down on your hands. Oh, so that’s what he ment. This is going to hurt. You’ll bleed for sure. These guys are even more crazy than you thought. You swallow again, but you don’t dare to disobey Rumlows orders. If you do they will overpower you in milliseconds, and probably hurt you even more than the roses will do. You open both your hands, then they both put a rose in each of your hands. The thorns digging into your skin right away. You try to hold back the whimpers of pain. But you’re not sure if you managed.

– Now close them!

You take a breath, before you close your hands. Fuck this hurts. You can feel the blood dripping from your hands. How long are they going to have you do this? You look from one rose to the other one. You try to stand still. The pain makes you want to let go of the roses, but you don’t want to know what the punishment for doing that will be. So you keep your hands where they are.

– Spread your legs!

Rollins again. Thank God this show is moving forward. They can’t possibly have you hold on to these roses the entire night. Please have me do something else. Anything.

Romlow comes over to you again. Puts one hand on each of your thighs and forcefully spreads your legs. He’s so rough you almost lose your balance. Rumlow then lifts your arms a little higher.

– Keep them there! DON’T move!

Fuck. You’ve seen this in some of the porn you watched. Well, not with roses, but trays, glasses of water or other things. The deal is to hold a specific position while getting an orgasm. What are they going to use to give you one?

You don’t have to wait long. Rollins opens a bag, and takes out something, gives it to Rumlow. You can’t see what it is, because they’re facing away from you. Rumlow turns around and comes over to you. Holds a magic wand in front of your face.

– You know what this is?

You nod. They told you not to speak, so you don’t.

– What is it then?

– It’s a magic wand…

– Ever used one before?

You nod again. Of course you have. Are these guys so high on themselves that they think they are the only clients you have? There is a million people who uses these kinds of things. You included. You have one at home. You look at Rumlow, holding the device. You know what it does. So you already know you’re going to come. Does he also know that?

Rumlow sits down in front of you. You follow him with your eyes. Rollins still just looks at you. You try to tell if they’re turned on by this. But you can’t tell through their tactical gear. You can hear Rumlow turn the magic wand on, so you look back down on him. He laughs at you. Knowing they have complete control over you. You swallow. I have to keep my arms up. I have to keep my arms up.

– Now let’s see if we can make some magic, shall we!

@nekoannie-chan @bat-mar @late-to-the-party-81 @here4thefanfics @rip1009 @there-goes-thefighter @differenttyphoonwerewolf @saiyanprincessswanie @ladysif8

Check out the Escort To The Multiverse Masterlist HERE!

Check out My Frank Grillo Masterlist HERE!

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[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (15)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexy mobsters, fluff, established Stucky, angst, implied smut, caring mobsters, pregnant reader,

Indecent Proposal (14)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

You freeze the moment your eyes land on the man interrogating you not weeks ago. Brock Rumlow stands right in front of you, eyes dropping to your middle.

“What do we have here?” He dips his head and smirks. “I see you didn’t waste time, Ms. Y/L/N. So, the rumors are true. You moved on really quickly, huh? Maybe we should investigate your boyfriend’s death again and dig a little deeper this time.”

“I told you; he wasn’t my boyfriend when he died,” you try to not sound too scared. “Scott and I parted ways on good terms. We just didn’t work out. Please just leave me alone. I have nothing to do with what happened to him.”

“I don’t believe a single word leaves your lips,” Brock sneers. “They instructed you well. You’re a damn good liar. I wondered why they are so interested in you.” He dips his head to look you up and down. “Your cunt cannot be the only reason. Do you have a connection to the mob, or…”

“Detective,” Steve steps in front of you, blocking Brock’s path. “What brings us the pleasure of your presence?” He has a dangerous glint in his eyes when he looks at Brock. “Do you need diapers or a pacifier?”

“I didn’t take you for a diaper lover,” Bucky steps behind Brock. “No kink-shaming, Detective but this is not the right store to buy you stuff. It’s for babies only.”

“What my polite husband tries to tell you,” Steve sizes Brock up, and narrows his eyes, “is that if you don’t stop harassing our wife, you will regret that you were born.”

“Is that a treat?” Brock cocks his head to glance at you standing behind Steve. “You know that I’m a cop, right?”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest and straightens his back to look even taller. 

“Not a treat, Detective,” he says lowly. “It’s a promise.”

“How about we call our lawyer and your boss,” Bucky nearly growls. “I bet they’d love to explain the law and your job to you again. I don’t think that harassing a woman at a store is in your job description.”

“I bet he believed Y/N was alone,” Steve curls his upper lip. “Maybe you would rather be alone with me.” His features darken, and he drops his eyes to the badge in Rumlow’s hand. “We could have so much fun.”

“Maybe he’s scared of being a bottom,” Bucky snickers behind Rumlow’s back. “He’d look good with a collar around his neck, don’t you think Stevie.”

“I’m not one of your boy toys,” Rumlow sneers. “You will pay me the needed respect. I have the right to investigate the death of Scott Lang and to interrogate his ex-girlfriend. We all know you killed him to get the girl.”

“Well in that case,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper the words, “you’re a very brave man for messing with our girl while we are in the middle of shopping for clothes for our baby.”

“Someone might call it suicidal,” Steve adds. He puffs his chest and stares Rumlow down. “We hope you have a wonderful day, Detective. Maybe we can continue our conversation another time.”

“We are terribly sorry, but there are more important things we need to take care of today,” Bucky steps closer to you to wrap his arm around your shoulders, offering protection. “If you’d please excuse us now, Detective.”

“Wait, I’m not done—” Rumlow huffs. He can only watch you; Steve and Bucky walk away. You’re trembling and breathing is harder as you are scared to hell and back.

“You need to breathe for me, doll,” Bucky whispers as he guides you toward the entrance. “We will drive home and come back later.”

“I should’ve planted a bullet to his brain right there, in the middle of the store,” Steve grits out. “How dare him to even look at our girl!”

“You called me your wife,” you sniffle and wipe your eyes. “But we aren’t married, and I don’t think that’s legal. I mean…you’re already married to Bucky and I’m just…”

“You are our wife,” Bucky stops you from doubting your role in your relationship. “We will have a nice ceremony. You can wear a pretty dress, all white and innocent.” He purrs and nuzzles your cheek. “Only for me to rip the dress off your body.”

“Buck,” Steve clears his throat. “We will plan a wedding later. For now, we need to take care of Y/N. And later…” 

He doesn’t say more, but you assume they will do something about Brock Rumlow. You only fear their solution will be final, and get them into more trouble…

“Romanoff, leash your dog and keep him away from our girl or we will put it to sleep,” Steve spits while talking. He yells loud enough to make his husband flinch. “He talked to our girl in the middle of a store. Rumlow is out of control!”

“I’m not his mother nor do I have control over him,” Natasha bites back. “I covered your crimes for years. I’m loyal, and you know it. It’s not my fault Rumlow won’t stop sniffing around. He’s like a dog with its bone.”

“You’ve got one last chance to stop him. If not, we will take care of him,” he says, and steps closer to Natasha. 

“I can’t,” she sighs and shakes her head. “It’s too much to ask for.”

“Don’t act as if you are doing us a favor. We pay you well and make sure you are safe for years,” Steve points out. 

“I did you more than one favor,” she argues and points at Bucky. “How many times did I save your ungrateful asses from getting arrested?”

“All right, well, let me rephrase that, then,” Bucky says and gets his gun out. “You make sure that Rumlow stops scaring our girl, or we will take matters into our own hands. This includes letting everyone in your life know about your dirty little secrets.”

Natasha blanches. She swallows audibly, feeling like a lamb among wolves. So far, Steve and Bucky treated her like an equal, but she’s close to losing their protection and the money she got used to.

“I’ll try,” she sniffs. “Give me a few days. Maybe I can find a way to get rid of him without killing him. I only need to find his dirty little secrets.”

Bucky nods, and hands Natasha an envelope filled with money. “You have a week,” he says. “We want to continue this fruitful business relationship. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey, he won’t hurt you, or get close to you, doll,” Steve softly speaks to you while his husband tugs you into bed. “We promise to take care of him.”

“The detective working for us will help us,” Bucky hastily says. He doesn’t want to tell you that they already planned to get rid of Rumlow if Natasha doesn’t find a way to make him stop.

“He scared me, is all,” you whisper and snuggle into the pillow. “I believed he would arrest me, or you.”

“No one will part us, Y/N,” Steve says. “And no one is brave enough to try…”

Part 15.2

Tags in reblog.

[arcane-vagabond]

Lord of Thieves Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Taxes were too high and they were only going to get worse. King Thor Odinson was nowhere to be found, and the people were wasting away as the Sheriff of Nottingham, Brock Rumlow, came to collect under the authority of Prince John. But there's whispering in your town about a man who's been stealing the money only to give it back to the poor. You want nothing more than to go about your days and minding your business. But it seems this strange man has other plans. Who is he? And why does everyone seem so intent on making sure you're involved? (Robin Hood!AU)

Series CW: Thievery, Violence, Language, Kidnapping, Historical inaccuracies probably, Source material inaccuracies probably, Fluff, Angst, Eventual smut. I think that's it? Chapters will have their own specific warnings.

All posts related to this series will be tagged with "LOT" and "Lord of Thieves".

*Denotes Smut

Bucky Barnes Masterlist || Masterlist

Series;

Prologue (Coming Soon)

Drabbles;

Nothing to see here yet...

[e-dubbc11]

First of all, thank you for answering my ask my lovely friend.

Second…oof, I am sweating! Thinking of Brock training me and then offering a massage in the shower, I can’t!

Thank you again Selene, this was so good, love love love it! ♥️😍🥵

Happy summer sleepover my lovely Selene! ☀️

Now you know how much I love my Billy BUT! I do also love me some Brock Rumlow soooooo I was thinking exercising with him, like boxing or MMA type workout? That leads to a shower and goes from there? Whatever strikes your fancy (if it strikes your fancy. 😄)

Pretty please and thank you!

🌹

pairing: trainer!Brock Rumlow x female reader

words: 400

a/n: thank you so much my beautiful friend for entrusting me ;)

"Good, good, one more punch."

You strike him again, fast and swift just like he taught you and he praises you once again, making you smile.

"Your progress, man.." Brock Rumlow, your trainer and the owner of the boxing gym you frequented shook his head looking at your figure. "It's incredible, the best goddamn thing I've ever seen." He looks straight into your eyes, something that he loved to do and you smiled at him thanking him.

"It's all you, you know."

"Trust me, I've been doing this for years, It's all you."

The way he said caused a sparkle in your body and you couldn't help but feel a heat rising inside you.

"We're done, you can shit the shower." He winked at you and proceeded to help you take off your gloves.

For months now, you counted the minutes till you could come for a workout, always asked for a private session, and groaned whenever he wasn't available. This was almost the case today, you had a fixed hour but he couldn't make it, he called you and asked you to please wait for another hour and he'd be there.

And he was right like he said.

"You should let me make it up to you, making you wait like that." Brock said as he escorted you to the locker rooms.

"You don't have to, you got a busy schedule, it's alright with me. My shift starts at seven, I still got plenty of time to get ready."

"Seven, huh?"

"Well, more like eight, I got one hour of commute first."

"Right. How about then..." He trails off looking at you as he pushes the door of the vip bathroom open, he always allowed you to shower in the trainers' room. "I help you loosen up before work."

"How would that happen?"

"Special massage offer."

"Oh right? Is that extra pay?"

"On the house."

"Oh special treatment."

"Hydro friendly massage."

"Ooooh."

He pulls the glass door of the shower open urging you inside.

"Top service, never had any complaints."

You smirked. "Constructive criticism only builds morale."

"Maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

"Or several."

You got in the shower, you never made it to your shift on time.