#brock rumlow au

[sjsmith56]

The Fae Elements, Part 4 - Hidden

Summary: Hidden together by magic in a forest sanctuary, Buck reveals more of Sage’s powers and his long-held interest in her. He also tells her more of his own past.

Length: 7.1 K

Characters: Buck, Sage, Dark Overlord (briefly)

Warnings: Some frank talk of sexuality and a brief moment of consensual sex (not descriptive except in a poetic sense?), feelings of shame from Buck at his own struggles.

Author notes: The images of fae Bucky above were created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode. I wish there was a way to tell the app to build upon a specific image but it kept bringing up different variations so that’s been written into the story.

<<Part 3

🌳 🪓 🏡

My first thought when I entered the cottage was that it was bigger on the inside. My second thought was why was there only one bed? An enigmatic smile appeared on Buck’s face as those thoughts entered my mind.

“Can you read my mind?” I asked, unsure whether I should be angry and more guarded with myself.

He shrugged. “I try not to, but sometimes your thoughts are very transparent and insert themselves into mine. It’s bigger on the inside because of magic. The outside, because it was built by my hands, never changes. There's only one bed now because it is a sanctuary for one, me.  Hope originally lived with me until her 18th year then chose to live in the stronghold. When my children have been here since, they have used their own magic to construct their own structure. I can make one for you, if you wish, but it would be a basic hut as I’m at the limit of my own magic with everything here and some things outside. You’re my guest so you get the bed. The sofa isn’t that comfortable, but I meant what I said about respecting you.” My next thought must have been transparent because he grinned. “I have four children. Hope is the second youngest. She’s 335 years old. My youngest, a half-fae, Richard, is 78. He is the result of a night where my loneliness and the loneliness of a kind mortal woman coincided. He chose to live in the mortal world, and I respect his decision. I have two more sons, twins Arthur and John, who are 357 years old. Twins are a rarity in the fae world. They were the first children Daere and I had.”

“You had no others with your other wives?”

“No, Daere was mortal, like you,” he said, looking me in the eye. “She chose to undergo the ritual when we married and became more fertile than the others.” He grimaced a little, I guess he didn’t want to reveal that, then gestured with his hand. “Come, I’ll show you the bedroom.”

He led me up a set of stairs that was more of a ladder into the attic of the cottage. A window at each end provided light from the outside but as soon as we stepped into the space a host of candles lit up, showing a rustic bedroom with a large bed in front of one of the windows. There was living greenery hanging from the rafters and corners, giving the space a feeling of being in a greenhouse sanctuary. A doorway set in one side of the sloped roof led to a large dormer with a stunning bathroom containing a tub and separate shower. The thought of there being running water out here made me giggle and he looked at me with a questioning glance.

“Just the thought of having such a beautiful bathroom in such a rustic cottage made me wonder about how you would get running water out here. It’s magic, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s magic,” he replied. “When I first built it, I used an outhouse and washed at the pump by the kitchen sink, but as personal hygiene improved over the centuries, I made improvements here as well. The addition was built by me, but the furnishings are all magic.”

“Were you always fae?” For a moment, I regretted my choice of words, but he must have sensed it because he smiled. “Sorry to be so nosy but you seem to like doing things by hand.”

“It’s a fair question to ask, since I admitted to building the structure manually, an unusual thing for my kind,” he answered. He breathed out. “I was half-fae, the result of a love affair between a mortal man and my fae mother, a descendant of Lilith. I lived with him for a time when I was searching for my own truth. He was a learned man who was a carpenter and taught me his trade. When it became evident that I had inherited my mother’s powers of longevity, and eternal youth, he encouraged me to join the world of the fae. It was the Middle Ages, and the plague took him in 1349 when I was away for a short time. I mourned him for he taught me much of how mortals live. It was a surprise to myself and to many when I was chosen as a candidate to be fae king. I became full fae upon my coronation.” He stepped towards the doorway. “I’m going to change and cut some wood for the fireplace and stove. There’s nothing like a fire to warm one’s soul. You can have the far dresser and closet in the room. Excuse me.”

He left me there in the bathroom, so I put my toiletries in the cabinet then ventured out to the bedroom, knocking before I came through. Buck was already gone so I put my clothes away and went down the ladder, noticing the candles in the bedroom went out behind me as I descended. I could hear the sound of an ax outside. Seeming to have found a steady rhythm of swinging and hitting the wood, I could hear it when he tossed the pieces into piles. While he did that, I looked around the main room of the cottage. There was a kitchen area, with a wood stove, sink with a pump beside it, shelves with plates, bowls, and drinking vessels. A cupboard was full of basic staples like sugar, salt, coffee, tea and the like. There was no refrigerator, although there was a pantry that seemed to have canned and dried foods. The fireplace area had two large armchairs facing it with a sofa behind them against the wall. There were bookshelves in many of the open spaces, full of many titles, both classic and modern.

When I finally made my way outside, I stopped in my tracks at the sight before me. Buck had taken his shirt off, displaying a broad muscular chest and shoulders. His biceps were impressive leading to powerful forearms with noticeable veins. On his left shoulder and chest was a large tattoo of a leafless tree, it’s branches seemingly splitting into infinity, with roots that went deep. It was very much in keeping with his presence in this forest. He turned towards me as I stepped out, smiling slightly at my sudden interest in his body.

“You up to some foraging? With your camping experience I would think you could tell edible mushrooms and berries from poisonous ones. There’s a basket with a handle in the kitchen. There should also be wild lettuce greens or fiddlehead greens near the trees. I would rather not fish or hunt for meat just yet. When we’ve been here a while, I’ll have a better idea of which animals are ready to leave their existence.”

He didn’t elaborate, returning to cutting the wood. Since our lunch had been interrupted, I was actually quite hungry. I found the basket and set out on a hunt for berries, finding strawberries mostly, and some fiddle head greens. I even found some asparagus, biting into one of the smaller stalks raw, enjoying the delicate taste. The mushrooms were another matter, and I brought a cloth to put the ones that looked closely like those I bought in the store, not wishing to contaminate the other food if they proved to be a poisonous variety. By the time I found my way back, which wasn’t hard, as all paths seemed to lead back to the cottage, Buck had finished cutting wood and started up the stove. He also put a shirt on, albeit one that seemed to display those impressive muscles quite well. He looked at the basket I was carrying.

“Well done,” he said. “Asparagus is still in season.” He lifted up the cloth to view the mushrooms, breathing their scent in. “They’re good, all of them. I should be able to make something quite tasty for us.”

He pulled some onions and garlic out of the pantry, chopping the former coarsely and the latter finely. Putting the onions on a low heat to sweat their juices out, he lightly sautéed the mushrooms whole, then took them out and added some chopped potatoes, which must have been hiding in the pantry as well, although I didn’t see them. After salting and peppering them he let them cook for a time while he used a gentle brush to clean the asparagus and fiddlehead greens. He did have some olive oil and poured some in a second pan, tossing the asparagus around first then removing it, and doing the same to the fiddlehead greens. Arranging everything on a platter he went into the pantry, coming out with a small jar with a round shaped dark brown mass inside. The mass glowed when he rested his hand on the jar for a moment, then he opened it and an earthy smell wafted out. He shaved several flakes of it off onto the food, then returned it to the jar, placing it under an enchantment again.

“Truffles,” he said. “Their smell and flavour are quite intense, so I just shave a little bit on. Since I don’t have a refrigerator, I have to use magic to preserve them.” He looked over at a cabinet. “There is some red wine inside there. The top row has some that don’t require a lot of airing. Any one of them should go with this little feast.”

I went to the cabinet, opening it to see a large selection inside and pulled a bottle from the top row. Bringing it over to the table as he brought the food and some dishes, as well as a couple of wine glasses, he opened the bottle with a corkscrew and poured it out into the glasses.

“No music, I’m afraid, except for the sound of the birds and the breeze outside.” He waited for me to sit, then sat across from me. “I don’t know what to say. It’s been a while since I cooked for anyone, fae or mortal. All we have to decide is what to do with the time given us. I think that fits.”

“Lord of the Rings,” I said, after we both sipped our wine, which was very very good. “Gandalf said that to Frodo.”

“I personally believe Tolkien knew a few fae,” replied Buck. “He certainly understood much of our world. Some mortals were capable of that.”

I cut one of the mushrooms in half and brought it up to my mouth. It was quite a difference tasting a freshly harvested mushroom from one that had sat on a store display for a time. The fiddlehead green was tender, as was the asparagus, while the potatoes seemed to be there to fill up our bellies with goodness. It was modest fare, but it was satisfying, and I thanked Buck for the tasty meal.

“Oh dear, you’ve said something you never should to a fae,” sighed Buck. “A mortal shouldn’t say thank you to a fae as it implies that you’re in their debt, in a contract you didn’t agree to. Instead, say I’m grateful. I’m worldly enough to know there is no obligation but certain fae would take advantage of your thanks.”

“Well then, I’m grateful for the meal and for everything you’ve done for me,” I stated. “I know I wasn’t the most understanding person in the Washington home but when Hope made it clear I’ve been under your protection for a long time I began to see things differently.”

“She shouldn’t have told you. What I said about not taking advantage is mostly true, but I am fae and there are times I let my own desires rule my actions.”

He picked up the dishes, taking them over to the sink. After filling a large pot with water, he set it on the wood stove to heat up, not making eye contact with me. At first, I watched, then I went over to where he stood, his back still to me, as he looked out the window to the early evening scene. Touching his arm gently brought a small smile to his face.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Because you might not like me after I tell you,” he answered, turning his gaze on me, “and I do like you very much. I have for a long time and have struggled not to let my personal feelings rule my decisions.”

Those blue eyes seemed uncertain, and I was intuitive enough to know that meant he had a hard truth to share. In my line of work there were many occasions when I needed to hear a hard truth. Sometimes we put people on a pedestal expecting a level of behaviour from them that is unrealistic, then are angry at them when they show they are human after all. Fae, or fairy people, in the stories I read were tiny creatures flitting about from flower to flower. Like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan, they could be capricious, jealous creatures, sometimes doing something spiteful just so they could have their way, regardless of who it hurt.

The reality of meeting not just one fae but several had shown them to be physically attractive, although Buck had admitted his appearance wasn’t completely true. I had seen the wings and thought they were incredibly majestic. Physically he was a beautiful man with a poet’s soul. He startled me slightly, when I felt the touch of his fingertips on my cheek. His gaze was soft, seeming to stoke a response deep inside me, something I hadn’t really felt before.

“Let’s wash the dishes and relax for the evening,” he suggested. “Tomorrow, when we’ve both slept and had a chance to unwind from the events of today, I will tell you some things.”

When the water in the pot boiled, he poured it into the sink, adding a few pumps of cold water into it to make it manageable. Just like at the healing pond shower, there was a small sponge that lathered up as he wet it and rubbed it over the dishes. While he washed, I dried and put things back. When the pots were done, he pulled the sink plug and the water drained out to whatever magic septic tank system he had created in his sanctuary. The remaining wine was stoppered for consumption at another time.

With that agreed upon Buck picked a book out from a shelf and began reading. As it darkened outside, candles on the inside lit up, casting the space in a soft light. With a fire going in the fireplace, it was warm and cozy, as I settled in front of it, content to watch the flickering flames for my entertainment. I was tired and a lot of things had happened that I wanted to mull over in my own mind. Eventually, I could feel my head dropping as it became heavier.

“Sage,” said Buck, gently, kneeling beside the chair where I sat. “I think you should go to bed. I’m coming up to wash myself and grab some night clothes, but I’ll be out of your way quickly.”

With a nod, I stood up, then climbed the ladder ahead of him. As he disappeared into the bathroom, I chose some sleeping clothes then waited for my turn to wash up. As he exited, we said goodnight to each other and I washed, changed, then slipped under the covers of the bed, immediately feeling like I was sinking into something soft and warm.

I did wake up once and looked out the window. In the moonlight I could see a figure, who I assumed was Buck, but he was just far enough away that I couldn’t be sure. He faced the full light of the moon barefoot, wearing only a pair of cloth bottoms. His top was unclothed, and his arms were outstretched in the pale beams as if he was taking in its light for sustenance. His wings were also outstretched, almost straining to lift him up into the night sky. A bird swooped in close then landed and transformed into a dark-skinned man, his dark brown wings spreading apart. When he turned to face the moon’s light it seemed to be Sam Wilson, but he was too far away for me to be sure. After several long moments of them standing there, side by side, they faced each other, having an earnest conversation. Several times they both looked in my direction, but I didn’t know if they were aware I was watching. Eventually, I fell asleep and didn’t wake up until morning.

The sounds of food preparation in the kitchen area reached my ears in the bedroom, making me open my eyes. Sunlight shone through the window at the other end, and I sat up. Almost on cue a head appeared at the top of the ladder.

“Good morning,” said Buck. “I hope you slept well. I’m making some breakfast if you want to freshen up and join me. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

When I descended, he had everything ready, omelettes with a soft cheese filling, toasted bread, and coffee, along with more berries. It was basic fare, but filling and I felt satisfied. We cleaned up the dishes together, then Buck left to get changed. When he returned, he looked like he was dressed for a hike.

“Do you feel up for a walk?” he said. “I’ll show you my little private corner of the world and we’ll talk.”

After giving me a moment to take care of some personal needs, I found him waiting outside for me. We headed into the forest, walking without talking for some time until we came to a sunlit glade. The morning dew was still on the blades of grass, making them look like they had diamonds on them. Even the spider webs strung between some of the taller grasses and brambles glistened in the morning light. We walked some more until we came out to a spot overlooking a broad valley. A split log rested between two boulders, and he gestured to me to sit on it.

“All this land, as far as the eye can see is under an enchantment,” he said quietly. “There are trees here that are older than a thousand years. It’s all so precious but even it is in danger. When I leave this life, my magic will no longer protect it and it will be as much at risk of exploitation as any other place in the world.”

“What of the next fae king?” I asked. “Won’t his magic protect it?”

“He could be a fae aligned with another element or be one of those who clings to the old ways, harassing mortal folk and kidnapping their children to be his servants. It’s not something I have control over.”

There was something sad about how he said that, as if he didn’t have much hope. Without even thinking I reached out my hand to his and squeezed it. He smiled and kept our hands together.

“Sam came to see me in the night. I know you saw us together. It’s safer for them to visit then as it’s harder to be tracked here. The person who betrayed our presence was a half-fae. Not Maria.” He noticed my look of concern. “They kidnapped her, used dark magic to get the location out of her. My people repelled the attack on the safe house but a couple of the dark fae broke through the barrier. The one who followed us was one of them. Thank goodness Loki saw him and followed him to the beach. He slew him and identified him as one of Rumlow’s Horde. It’s almost certain Rumlow is the Dark Overlord. His appearance in the court where you were is no coincidence.”

“So, he was trying to take me on the street?” I asked. “How would he know about me, if I’ve been under your protection?”

A distressed look appeared on his face, and he turned to me.

“What I’m about to tell you isn’t really known, not in its entirety,” he answered. “I’ve told differing versions of it even to my own people because I haven’t always acted in an honourable manner. But I promised you the truth. What I said about meeting your parents on their honeymoon camping trip was true. What I didn’t say was that somehow, as they hiked the back country they breached the boundary of my hidden haven. It was only when I confronted them that I realized your mother was a descendant of Lilith. My first instinct was to slay your father and take her for my own, which was well within my rights as fae king, but I realized your father also had fae in him, not as strongly evident as your mother but it was definitely there. In fact, his fae bloodline is an ancient one.  That stayed my hand, but I did fall in love with both of them, so I led them back to the cottage and allowed them to set up their tent outside. I originally offered them the bedroom, but I think instinctively they knew they would be obligated to me in a way they weren’t comfortable with.”

“You wanted a threesome?” That wasn’t something I expected to ask about my parents. “I thought you were still in mourning.”

He shrugged. “So did I, but fae can be gender fluid and I’m not immune to the pleasures of the flesh, at the right moment. It’s how my youngest child was conceived when his mother’s needs required my attentions in a very basic way. Yes, I admit a threesome would have been my expectation if they accepted my offer, but I read their reluctance accurately, quickly realizing their love was only for each other as they took the promise of fidelity in their marriage seriously. I tempered my desires, but I realized your mother’s bloodline was so strong that any other fae might not be so understanding and would slay your father outright. The Dark Overlord would definitely have taken Fern for his own.”

“A desire to protect your parents grew in me during their stay as my guests. I dampened your mother’s gift, with her knowledge and permission, for she had always known she was sensitive to otherworldly beings. Your father’s profession was one that could be bolstered by fae interests, and he agreed to help manage our financial assets. Even though he was a free spirit in many ways, he understood our need to be independent financially, especially in these modern times. It was his suggestion to invest in ethical operations, making them stronger, while making us wealthier. Gaia Life was his idea, a non-profit organization that strove to undo the damage done to the environment by encouraging sustainable development and ecologically sound practices. He was well ahead of his time and his association with Gaia Life meant it was easier for me to keep your family safe.”

It explained a lot of things. My parents were quite liberal in their love of music, art and culture, while voting progressively, openly pro-choice, and displaying a lot of empathy for social issues. My mother was a teacher, and my father a financial consultant who rarely talked about his clients. We lived a privileged life, yet we always spent time working in soup kitchens, going out on highway cleanup events and other things that involved us physically helping someone or something. I was surprised that he never mentioned Gaia Life to me, especially since I became an environmental lawyer, and I would have met Buck at some point.

“Why did I never meet you until my father’s funeral?” I asked. “You said you saw me as I grew up. If you met my father regularly you would have known that I went into environmental law.”

“I did know,” he sighed. “It was a promise I made to your father to stay out of your life as much as possible.” He was quiet again, making me wonder if this was the part where I might not like him. “Can I touch your forehead and temples? I want to share some memories with you. It will help provide context to many things.”

It was a strange request but in the last 5 ½ weeks I had been exposed to many new things that I never knew existed before. I agreed and we faced each other. With the lightest of touches, he spread his fingertips from both hands over my forehead and temples, then gazed at me intently before closing his eyes. Instinctively I closed mine as well and felt like I was being drawn through a swirling mass of images and voices until we ended up at a lake, a lake I remembered very well, as we went there every summer when my brothers and I were kids. It was the best of times, full of laughter and good memories. Then my father’s face appeared, and I realized it was a memory of him, my mother, and Buck talking as us kids played in the water.

“You have two choices,” said Buck, his voice sounding ominous. “Do nothing and the Dark Overlord will sense her. He will come for her and take her for his own, adding her fae powers to his. Or you can give her to me, and I can take her to our stronghold. She will be raised as fae royalty, given training to counter the dark fae magic, and most of all, she will be safe.”

My mother spoke then, and her face appeared in Buck’s view. “No, I refuse to believe there isn’t a third option. I know you fae don’t love your children quite the same way we mortals do but you can’t expect us to give her up. Will you use magic to make her forget us? She deserves to choose the life she wants. Whether that is to live as mortal or as a fae should be up to her, no one else.”

“I agree with Fern,” added my father. “You told us on our honeymoon that any daughter we had would have strong fae powers and we accepted that. We’ve encouraged her to read all sorts of fantasy and mythology-based books and to be open to other beings living hidden in this world. When she’s older we can reveal the truth to her, and she can decide then. But I’m not about to let you take her when she’s only eleven years old. She’s a child.”

“She’s about to enter puberty and her powers will shine like a beacon after her first bleed,” answered Buck. “Although the light fae would still see her as a child and allow her to mature at her own pace, the dark fae will consider her an adult at that point. The Dark Overlord will take her for his bride and will not be gentle with her.” His view went to the children in the lake, focusing on Sage, then back at her parents. “Do not ever accuse me of not loving my children the way mortals do. Even though we don’t raise them as humans raise their own, they are still loved and cared for. I have a half-fae son who chose to give up his powers and live a mortal life in the human world. His safety and wellbeing are important to me. Sage’s are just as important.”

“Can’t you dampen her gift like you did mine?” asked my mother. “Can’t you keep her hidden that way?”

Buck sighed. “It will take a lot out of me and there will be times I might not be able to maintain it, opening her to danger during those times. If she lived in the stronghold the combined powers of the fae there would be able to protect her when I cannot. Even I have my limits.”

“Please,” begged my father. “If you take her, it will destroy us.”

There was silence then Buck looked at me again before looking at my parents. “I can give her a gift. If she accepts it, then she binds herself to me. It is a promise that at some point I will collect on, but I can wait until she is an adult, when it will become my duty to enlighten her to her powers. The bond created by the gift will make it easier for me to dampen her powers so that the Dark Overlord doesn’t sense her.”

My parents looked at each other, then at me, their faces showing the dilemma of the decision they had to make.

“Promise, you’ll allow her to live as a mortal until she’s of age by fae standards.” My father was emphatic.

“For as long as it’s possible,” agreed Buck. “If she turns 30 and doesn’t manifest her powers I will wait even longer. You have my word.”

They both nodded their heads then Buck made them say it out loud, essentially creating the contract between them.  He reached around his neck and took a silver necklace off, a necklace with a pendant of a tree showing its bare branches and roots.

Automatically, my hand went to my neck, touching the necklace that in my memory had been given to me by my parents. I had worn it ever since, never taking it off. Although it was silver, it had never tarnished. Now, I knew why. Buck removed his fingertips from my face and sat on the bench, looking off into the distance. He said nothing, whether because he was ashamed or if whatever he said was irrelevant now didn’t seem to matter. Regardless, Buck waited.

“The orchid, that was a gift as well,” I said. “Was that also to bind me to you?”

“No, it was a talisman to provide extra protection after I met with you at your office. I went to further assess your powers and thought it prudent to provide you with as much protection as I could. It still hurt when I saw it destroyed. The Dark Overlord would see it as something binding us and that was a message to me that he wouldn’t respect it. He didn’t know about the necklace but the man who choked you was burned by its power. He would certainly have reported it.”

“Were you lying to my parents?”

“No! I respected them too much and I respect you. I omitted to tell you things, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary. It was a false hope. But with my own powers stretched to the limit even then without any sort of binding agreement or contract there had to be something that could strengthen the protection I gave you. I didn’t intend to collect for a long time, as long as you were still protected. When you saw me at the funeral, I realized your powers were becoming stronger than the dampening spell and it was only a matter of time before the dark fae became aware of you. That proved to be very accurate.” He stood up. “There is more but I think you’ve heard enough for the day. I need to be alone for a while. Return to the cottage and stay close to it.”

His wings appeared and he took off, quickly fading into the distant sky. I remembered the day my parents seemed to have an intense discussion with a person while we were on holidays at the lake, but I still couldn’t picture who the third person was, realizing Buck had shielded himself from my memory. Perhaps it was him that made it seem the necklace given to me was from my parents, an acknowledgement that he wouldn’t reveal himself to me until he collected on the debt. He hadn’t revealed himself at the funeral either; that was my own magic doing it. I stood up to return to the cottage, seeing the path there was marked ahead of me with rocks. It was evident that Buck couldn’t waste any magic, making me wonder how much of the fae world needed his magic to protect it, yet he was using it on me, a mortal.

Maybe that is when I realized I was running away from what I really was. I had been hidden almost my entire life. Yes, it was for my own protection, but it also hid the real me. I was fae and even if I chose not to mate, losing powers that I didn’t know I had, nothing would change that. My mother’s bloodline extended to the first woman to say no to what was expected of her, Lilith. My father’s bloodline had fae in it as well, enough that Bucky didn’t kill him and take my mother as his prize. That left Bucky, the fae king who had offered me marriage, long life, eternal youth, power, and children, all of it on my terms.

Hope said he had feelings for me. Had he started to developed feelings for me when he gifted the necklace? Did he suppress those feelings about me as I grew older, became an adult, then a lawyer? By my reckoning it was 20 years between the time I received the necklace and my father’s death. I was 31, not a child anymore and any disgust he had possibly felt in himself about taking a child bride could no longer apply to me. Perhaps to a roughly 700-year-old fae I was still very young, yet he had been very much restrained in all of our meetings. It was always my choice; he made that very clear from the start.

When I arrived back at the cottage, I felt like staying busy, so I searched nearby for some greens and picked them along with some nuts that I found and more berries. Leaving them in the kitchen I returned outside and laid in a hammock, looking up at the sky. Letting my mind wander, I listened to the sound of the trees and the birds, letting them wash over me. It was calming and relaxing and soon I drowsed off. It was dusk when I felt a hand on my shoulder, startling me.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” said Buck. He raised a hand, showing a couple of fish, hanging from a hook. “I had much to think about. At least, I caught us some dinner.”

Carefully getting out of the hammock I stood up and looked at him, at the last golden rays of the sun, making his dark hair look lighter. The forest was definitely his element. In a suit and tie, he looked elegant but here he looked like he belonged.

“I thought about what you said and showed me,” I began. “How much of your powers are being used to protect me?”

“A considerable amount,” he admitted. “Once the Solstice has passed a ritual can strip your powers and you can live as a mortal without fear. My powers will no longer be needed.”

“What if I wish to embrace my fae heritage? What if I decide to agree to the marriage and the Solstice ritual? Will you teach me how to be fae? Will that take more of your powers away from you?”

“No, I have no more to give. It would just be redirected into your education into the fae world. It means you would be open to attack although we should be safe here and you would learn how to defend yourself. The stronghold would also be safe with the combined powers of all the fae protecting you.” He swallowed. “Have you decided?”

“I think I have.” I touched my necklace. “I was always meant to be your queen, wasn’t I? You were looking for the right descendant of Lilith and the fact my mother was already taken meant her daughter was the next best candidate.” He looked uncomfortable as there was a bit of weirdness about it, by mortal standards anyways. “I’m not accusing you of anything nefarious. You’ve admitted your faults and haven’t lied outright about anything. You’ve told me what I needed to hear. So, my answer to your question is another question. If I say yes, will you allow yourself to love me, openly and without reservation? I can’t accept anything less.”

A softness came over Buck’s face then, making him seem younger and less burdened with the worries of his position. He laid the fish on a bench, then rubbed his hands through a nearby plant, releasing the scent of lemon. Placing his hands on my cheeks, he gazed into my eyes.

“I already love you, Sage. Telling you I was incapable of it was the only actual lie I spoke, as I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t fully understand. If we marry, it is truly for life. I am 715 years of age, old for most fae, but a fae king can live for 1500 or more years. You are 31, barely out of childhood by fae standards but there are some who married younger than you. After the ritual your life span can extend to as long as that of a fae king, provided you truly wish it. I could say the words right now that I want to say when we marry but I want to wait.”

I started to protest as I was ready, but he placed his hands on mine, raising them to his lips.

“It is a life-changing commitment and asks you to sacrifice much. If you are truly ready, then a week will not change anything. In that week, I will tell you everything that I didn’t tell you earlier and show you my true self. You deserve that much before you make your final decision. If you still agree to marry me, I will advise my court of the decision and they can prepare for the Summer Solstice ceremony. You must understand that your family cannot be there, as it is not open to those not of the fae world, other than the bride. Plus, there is the matter that your mother no longer remembers me. There are ways around it, but it is something we need to talk about.”

He was right. There were still things that had to be said and done before I could make that final commitment. Leaving the real world to live in a mystical one was going to be a big adjustment, even if I would still have a presence in the human world. Reluctantly, I agreed, and he hugged me then began to release me. As I looked up at him, a change came over his face and he lowered his lips to mine, hesitating briefly before touching my lips with his. The kiss started out soft and sweet, then deepened, as our lips opened to each other. I could feel a heat stirring deep inside my body, an urgency unlike anything I had ever felt before. Pulling away, I breathed heavily, noticing Buck was also affected.

“We have to wait for the Solstice, right?”

He smiled in a way that sent a thrill through me. “No, we don’t. We can have all the sex we want until the day of the wedding.” His fingertips reached for my hair, and he ran his hand down my shoulder to my hand, pulling me closer. “The consummation requirements of the ceremony require us to make love when the sun is at its highest and the moon is at its lowest, in the sacred places where we’ll be. Until then, we can do what we damn well please.”

It was like a switch had been flipped as we threw ourselves at each other. Using magic, he sent the fish to the kitchen then he picked me up and carried me into the house, up the ladder into the bedroom, the candles coming on as we entered. As our clothes came off, I noticed his tattoo had changed, pointing it out to him. He laughed, a sound that was just as sexy now as the first time I heard him.

“My body is a living breathing canvas in constant flux,” he explained, as he pressed his lips into my neck, mouthing the pulse point under my ear. “The forest is always changing, and my tattoos reflect that. I am fae and my ties to the natural world involve my whole body.”

As he laid me down on the bed, removing the rest of our clothes effortlessly I couldn’t stop watching the way the markings on his body shifted and rippled as the level of our excitement rose. I forgot about all of that the moment we joined, yielding to the pleasure I was feeling. As my mind drifted towards the inevitable climax that was building it seemed I was on another plane of existence. When it happened, I could feel it all, the touch of the breeze in the night, the rustling of the leaves in that breeze, the scent of the flowers that bloom in the glow of the moon, ending with the sound of his wings unfurling and beating at the moment we both came, before enclosing us in their soft but protective embrace. It was profound and I never wanted to feel the touch of anyone else ever again.

“Amica mea,” whispered Buck. “At last, I found you.” His lips were on mine again as we both came down from the high of our union, then he gazed at me. “It means my love in Latin, the most sacred language of the fae.”

“Is it always like that?” I gazed right back at him, amazed that this beautiful man was mine.

“Always. When you transform, you will be part of the life of this planet and will feel it in your veins.” He interlaced his fingers with mine. “Together we will heal the scars that blight the land.”

That’s when I saw him. I saw a vision of the Dark Overlord in his human and fae form. He was wearing a suit, looking like he did that day in court when I failed to prove HYDRA Mining had polluted the waterways. As his gaze turned to see me, I stiffened in response. Then Brock Rumlow sneered at me.

“There you are,” he grinned. “I’ve been looking for you. It won’t take me long to find you, my treasure, my precious Sage. Tell Barnes I’ll find a way into his haven. When I do, I will slay him and take what is mine.”

He began to transform into his fae form, and I cried out as it was horrible, his red eyes and dark grey skin displaying the image of a demon, full of venom and fury. As I closed my eyes to rid myself of that image, Buck’s voice came through, calling my name, as he stroked my face and head. He didn’t need words to know what I had seen but wasn’t surprised when I told him who it was. There was a history there, that much was obvious. This vision was Rumlow’s shot across the bow, his revelation of his plans. It was a taunt and a promise, and I was very much afraid.

Part 5>>

Series Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #fae bucky #fae #fae king #dark fae #brock rumlow au #bucky barnes short fiction #buckybarnesshortfic #short fiction

[scandinavianfairytale]

Blurred lines - Bodyguard Steve

Part 9

Warnings: Suspicious & scary Brock, mentions of potential divorce, speculations of cheating, implied steaminess, Steve & Holly are in love 💙

Tagging: @schlean

Find the Masterlist here 😊

In five years, since Brock took over the family business, Alexandria's life changed so much, she often had a hard time recognizing it. When they got married, she pictured a small flat, filled to the brim with books, vinyls and plants. They'd drink morning coffee on the little balcony, she'd study for her PhD and he'd write. They'd do what they wanted for so many years, what they have planned for so many years.

But when Brock's father got sick and they cut their honeymoon short the shift in her new husband was vivid. John and him were with their father for hours each day and Petra and Alex were worried about their husbands - especially with the possibility of Rumlow's head death. Brock would return home each night completely exhausted but would still go to the office to do some work his father couldn't at that moment.

Alex often thought about that pivotal moment when John turned down the title and all eyes turned to Brock, but she couldn't remember anything else as time stopped and all she could remember was the beating of her heart. She could remember how all their plans were disintegrating and when she found the eyes of her husband again...to this day she can't describe the emotion that crossed his face. But she could see him stand up and accept the burden that wasn't his to carry.

She should've seen it coming honestly, John was seen less and less at the family house as their father's disease progressed and Brock had more to do because of it. Alex should've known John was going to pass on the heavy load of being the new head to his younger brother, but she was too worried about her husband to notice. Maybe if she had, she could've done something about it.

Joe opened the door for her as she exited the house, wearing her baggy jeans and black sweatshirt that she liked to wear whenever she was on her way to the other side of the island.

"Thank you Joe, but I'm taking the subway today." She smiled at him through her sunglasses and rested a hand on his clasped ones.

"If I may ask: when do you expect to be home?" He asked cautiously. He had to answer to Brock, even though his heart went out to Alex - he has seen her cry too many times in the past 5 years.

"Late." She didn't say anything for a moment, but then she pulled off her sunglasses and sighed. "If my husband asks, you can tell him I'm in Brooklyn on the look-out for new art."

After Joe nodded, Alex walked out the gates of her house and towards the metro station. The first time she made it to the Brooklyn heights promenade she cried, stopping a few runners that passed her. She spent the next 5 minutes trying to explain that she was okay and that this was her first time seeing this place. After that when she felt suffocated by her life, she'd disappear for the day and just soak in the sun on the rocks and watch the sunset at the Manhattan bridge with other people. She felt like she was normal then.

She put her headphones on when she sat down on the metro. Her parents loved classical music, but she was more of an old school rock fan. Like Brock. When he proposed to her, he bought her a Creedence Clearwater Revival vinyl she was searching for months. They wanted to fill the small closet in their flat with vinyls.

There's no gramophone in the house now.

Alex thought about leaving and divorcing Brock so many times. Too many times that she was comfortable admitting to herself. But even though she thinks about leaving, she knows she never will - he is the love of her life. He did the only right thing he could've done at that moment and she can't blame him for that, especially not when he tries so hard to make her happy.

She got off the subway and walked downhill, among the little brick row houses and she wondered about the people living inside them. She often wondered about other people's lives. What they dreamt of, what were they scared of, what made them want to get up in the morning. She tried answering the same questions, but it sometimes made her sad. As she saw the first sun rays breaking on the water she sped up, wanting to see the water as soon as possible and grabbed an ice-cream from the vendor - Paul - on the way to her spot on the rocks.

~Brock~

It had been happening more and more recently - Alex disappearing for the whole day and returning only in the evening. She never told anyone where she was going and she always took the subway. Joe always told him the same - she was in Brooklyn searching for art. The first couple of times he brushed it off as she was a fan of art, but when she never added anything to the collection, he became suspicious.

After the conversation they had a week ago, Brock was feeling antsy. He knew what he was about to do was wrong and if Alex found out, she'd have his head, but he needed to do something or his head was going to explode. Picking up the phone, he dialed the newest number in his phone.

"Steve. It's Brock." He paused for the other man to catch up. "Listen, I know it's early, but if you want I have a job for you. Can you come over tomorrow to discuss details?"

~Steve~

"Sure. I have to pick something up from the post, but I can come over straight after that. Would 9am be okay for you?" Steve asked as he walked around the apartment. Holly watched varily from the sofa, twirling the remote in her hands.

"Perfect, see you then." He hung up and exhaled.

"Was that Brock?" Holly asked as he plopped down next to her, putting his arm around her, scooching closer to her. He hummed in response and reached for the remote to unpause the movie.

"I thought we talked about it, Steve. I don't want you close to the business." She moved the remote out of his way. "You're too pure to be in this business."

"Holly, I can handle myself. It's not like he'll ask me to move a body or something."

"Maybe not now." She joked. "But seriously Stevie...I know you don't have a job but this is serious. He won't make you do anything illegal but he might put a target on your back. And I love you too much to watch you get killed."

"Oh, you love me?" Steve quickly changed the subject.

"I do." Holly blushed and turned her body to him, slowly kissing his jaw. "You are the most honest and nicest man I have ever met and I love you because of it."

"I love you too." Steve grabbed her chin, looking into her eyes. She stared at him before kissing him hard and stradling his lap, tugging at his belt.

~Brock~

He couldn't focus, he stared at the man in front of him but he couldn't hear a single word the man said. The only thing that played in his head on repeat was that Alex might be cheating on him.

"Mr. Rumlow, I would need your answer by the end of today. I'm meeting with new potential client tomorrow and unless you'd agree to a higher price, I will have to stop supplying the coca plant." That made him snap out of his throughts. Brock let his hand fall from his beard to the table and he met the eyes of the man sitting in front of him. The man visibly flinched.

"Mr. Gilson, I thought we had a contract that was valid for the next 3 more years."

"W-We do, however as you hopefully recall, there is a clause that mentions the other competitors." Gilson gulped. Brock stood up, motioning to his bodyguards to leave, before he cornered Gilson in his chair.

"I don't like to be fooled, Gilson. We both know there was no such clause and you're only greedy." Brock sneered. "You know damn well what kind of reputation I have and I don't like to prove anyone right. So unless you'd like to be on the receiving end of it, I suggest you call off tomorrow's meeting as I am the only one that has the legally binding right to your coca plant."

"M-Mr. Rumlow, p-please, he is offering a lot more money and I'm not asking you to match his price, just a symbolic value, so I can justify saying no."

"Are you in money trouble? Have any debt?" Brock straightened up, looking down at the man in front of him.

"No."

"Is the competitor threatening you?"

"No."

"Have you had a good harvest and have additional coca plants that will go bad if you don't sell them?"

"No."

"Are you afraid of the competitor?"

"Not really."

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Not always."

"What about right now?"

"...yes." Gilson gulped and when he saw Brock's hand move, he flinched, closing his eyes. Brock slapped his shoulder.

"I will tell you what's going to happen now." Brock inhaled. "You are going to leave my office and never, or for the next three years, raise this topic to me again. Unless there will be some real problems, I don't want to hear about your greed. And there will be no other buyers. Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes." The man scurried out of the office and his bodyguards entered the room again, sitting at the table, observing their boss rubbing his forehead.

"Find out who this competitor is. Someone has been snooping around and I don't like it." His bodyguards nodded and left again, leaving Brock alone with his thoughts.

~Steve~

After Holly showered she left for some event she needed to attend and Steve decided to take a walk and think about tomorrow. It was going to be a pivotal day for his mission and he wondered what the job will be, what will be asked of him. He knew that undercover cops don't undergo trial or face consequences but he still wondered if he will be able to do what will be asked of him.

He made his way to the water, walking around the lively restaurants and bars, observing the happy chatter and music that filled the Pebble beach. He thought of Peggy and he remembered how she left him - in the middle of Per Se with a ring in his palm. He had a plan then, for them. He was going to buy the small brick row house in Brooklyn and they'd have a family, like they dreamed of, he'd request a transfer to a desk job or even maybe potentially change jobs, so he wouldn't worry her. They'd dance in the living room to jazz and they'd cook together while they recounted their days.

Steve made it to the lawn next to the Manhattan bridge and took in the setting sun. He pictured having picnics here with Peggy, they'd sit in silence and just be with each other, appreciating something so spectacular and beautiful.

He saw a lone figure far from anyone else, resting on her hands, head lulled to the side and he recognized her.

"Alex. What brings you to the other side of town?" Steve made his way to her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Steve...what? Did Brock send you?" Alex quickly stood up, wiping her hands in her jeans.

"What? No, of course not, I live near by and walk along the promenade oftenly." Steve looked utterly lost and her stern look fell and she tried laughing it off.

"Sorry about that. Of course you live near by. You mentioned last week at dinner."

"Mind if I join you?" Steve asked and pointed to the patch of grass she was sitting on a few moments ago.

"Not at all." They sat down and watched the sun set on Manhattan.

"The first time I saw it, I cried." Alex said after the last rays disappeared. "The sunset I mean." She turned to him. Steve didn't know what to say.

"I can understand that - it is truly breathtaking."

"I don't think I'd ever get tired of seeing it."

"You would." Steve sheepishly laughed as Alex looked at him, eyebrows arched high. "I grew up here so I have seen it thousands of times. It's nice, but you get used to it."

"I don't think I ever would."

"That's because you live far away and can't be here everyday. Let me put it like this - at the dinner I commented on the Kandinsky that hangs in your living room and you said that it was okay. If you only saw it once in a museum, you'd think it is one of the most beautiful works of art. But now you look at it everyday and you don't think it's that interesting anymore."

"That's true, but I also think that each day you'd come here, the people are different and so is the vibe. I think that makes each experience different from the one another." Alex smiled.

Steve insisted on walking her to her subway station across the Brooklyn bridge. Alex felt weird not talking to him, while she suspected Steve didn't mind the silence.

"How's the job search going?" She finally aske, breaking Steve's train of thoughts.

"Actually Brock called me today with a job offer." He was surprised by her surprised expression. "You don't know anything about it?"

"No...but to be fair I am the least involved in the family business."

"How so?"

"I don't want anything to do with it. The less I know the better."

"For your protection?"

"And my sanity - I don't want to know the business my husband is involved in, especially when I know that I won't agree with it."

"Why marry into the family then?" Steve inquired and paused as Alex turned to him. "Forgive me, that was completely out of line."

Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes. Steve took off his jacket and put it around her shoulder as she shuddered due to the wind. She stayed way over what she calculated and was severly unprepared for the NYC wind in the middle of Brooklyn bridge. She was surprised by the act of kindness. He really was different than Holly's other boyfriends.

"Brock wasn't supposed to take over the business. When we got married, we were supposed to move to Europe. I was supposed to continue studying and he wanted to write." She decided to answer his previous question. Steve nodded but decided to keep his mouth shut - after all this wasn't his business and was irrelevant to his mission, so he thought it was better to not snoop too much and make her uncomfortable.

She returned his jacket when they arrived at the Fulton street and they said goodbye, before she disappeared into the station and he continued to walk to the Chamber street.

When Alex returned home, Brock was still up, reading his book in bed.

"How was your art hunt?" He smiled at her, putting down his book.

"Joe really can't lie, can he?" She joked. "Not as productive as I would've liked. There were good pieces but none of them really moved me." She said from the bathroom. His smile fell and he had to restrain himself from accusing his wife of anything without proof.

"I sure one of these days you'll find what you're searching for."

"I'm not really searching for anything - I'm just looking around. I know it when I'll see it."

"Right...listen I want to talk to you about the business."

"Brock, no, I don't wa-"

"I know. But this is pressing and it concerns you. I don't want you to be blindsided tomorrow."

Alex could sense something was off, but now she was becoming uneasy. She walked out of the bathroom in her PJs and sat on the edge of the bed, next to Brock.

"There's something going on and until I get to the bottom of it, I want you to be safe at all times. I have a meeting with Steve tomorrow and if he accepts he's going to be your bodyguard for the time being." Alex stood up abruptly.

"No, Brock. We had this discussion already, I don't need a bodyguard."

"This was before. Things changed. You're getting a bodyguard and that's the end of this conversation."

"You can't make decisions for me whenever you feel like it."

"For fuck's sakes Alex, someone has been snooping around and I can't have you sneaking off for the whole day, making me worry what has happened to you!" Brock was now standing in front of her, yelling in her face. She piped down, looking into his blazing eyes. In the 20+ years she has known him, she has seen him angry only a handful of times.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but please just grant me this until I figure things out, okay?" He sighed as he stared into her big eyes.

"I don't like this, Brock." Alex sighed as well.

"I know, but just until I get to the bottom of this, okay? I swear." He kissed the top of her head.

Thank you for reading! 🙏😊

The GIF and the clothes picture aren't mine - they belong to the amazing creators.

Phew this was a long chapter! And it was a long time coming 😁 I hope it's still okay that @schlean you are still tagged?

#chris evans #steve rogers #steve rogers au #steve rogers x ofc #undercover cop steve #frank grillo #brock rumlow #brock rumlow au #brock rumlow x ofc #mob boss brock #marvel #mob marvel #mob marvel au #fanfic #series #blurred lines

[tikus-library]

"On the Edge"

Avengers AU - Chapter 3

Previous

Characters: Brock Rumlow x reader, oc!daughter Addy

Posted: March 28th

WARNINGS:

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

Read on Ao3

“You're not very smooth ya know?”

You squeaked and skipped a step, coming to a teetering stop at the edge of the staircase. You could feel yourself begin to teeter more forwards than back onto your heels when a large warm hand wrapped around your midsection and you were directed back to safety. You looked over your shoulder and glared at him before childishly turning away and stepping down once and then twice, more confident in your steps than necessary.

“I'm sorry.”

You paused, keeping your lips sealed but not turning back around. You wouldn't be nice to him, he didn't deserve it. He didn't want to be friends after all. Of course you knew that was childish thinking but, but your feelings were hurt.

“I–” Brock swallowed, you hadn't kept going, so that was something, right? “I'm not good with people. Addy is all I got.”

“You work don't you?”

Brock grinned, even if you sounded a little short at least you had waited and now talked back to him. “The people I work with aren't the friendliest. I don't know how to be nice.”

You bit your lip. Fidgeted with your purse, you wouldn't give in… but it was polite to accept an apology right? “Well an apology is a start.”

“Addy said so,” he nodded even though you hadn't turned to look at him. He hadn't been able to get your face out of his mind, angry and tearful all at once as you shouted at him before slamming the door in his face. He realized it must have taken everything in you to do it. Brock thought it was cute. Somehow he figured you were not the kind to do something like that, and after thinking about it all night, he knew you weren't the kind to bring men like that asshole home. Hell, he hadn't even been sure he'd had a neighbor before that night you were so quiet.

You looked over your shoulder at him with a small smile. “She sure is smart, where she gets it from I'm not too sure.”

Brock flashed his teeth, shrugging as he moved to lean against the railing just above you, “not so sure myself, but she does go to school so, I'm thinking her teacher is nice.” He didn't miss the way your eyes were rimmed in red and you hadn't put on make-up. No way that was because of him? “Look,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I'm making dinner tonight. You should come over.” He waited, a little nervous, there was no way you were still crying cause of him? That would be too egotistical even for him.

You hesitated, he was rough looking but he leaned against the railing of the stairs and looked… soft. As soft as a man with those arms could look. “Only if I can bring dessert?”

Brock grinned, “Addy likes strawberry everything”

You smiled, “what about you?”

Brock blinked, straightening and drawing a blank, “honestly? I just eat whatever Addy likes…”

You snorted and covered your face, looking away, “you're such a dad!” You turned and held out your hand, “phone?”

Brock pulled it out of his back pocket confused but opened it and handed it to you.

“Last name?”

He scowled, “Rumlow”

You poked around it and smiled when there was a chime before handing his phone back, pulling your own from your purse and he stared down at the text he received, a response to the one above it that was simply his name. He realized it was your name.

“If you think of something you like that's sweet, just text me. Pretty sure I can pick something up in the next four hours if I can't make it.”

Brock nodded jerkily and watched as you hurried down the steps. He was pretty sure he had succeeded in whatever this was. He dragged a hand down his face, slightly exhausted and then realized– he had to cook dinner.

You had errands to get done and a few bills to pay, and your last stop was for a few groceries. Your favorite bakery was next door a few stops down and you had just asked for the petit strawberry cake that fed four when your phone chimed.

Neighbor Brock Rumlow: blackberry, if it's not too late?

Why did that make you smile? “Do you have anything with blackberries?”

“Oh! We have a great selection!”

#avengers au #brock rumlow #reader #oc! daughter Addy #ch 3 #on the edge

[buckyalpine]

Pretty Little Thing Part 9

18+ Minors dni

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

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

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

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

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

Word count: 2.4k

Part 8 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spit it out punk”

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

“I love her” 

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, let’s go get your girl”

*****

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

“My pretty little thing”

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

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

“This isn’t my fau-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know how he tastes”

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

“Are you here for someone Barnes”

“My girl” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hurt you.

Bucky’s fist connected with his face repeatedly. 

Took you from him. 

Abused you. 

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

His sweet baby.

You didn’t deserve any of this.

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

He’d never let that monster touch you again. 

“This ends now-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could finally go home. 

He was your new home. 

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

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

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

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

“Welcome home my sweet doll” 

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Private Show

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

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

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

Characters: Bucky Barnes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our money?” He scoffs.

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

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

“Let’s not do this here.”

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

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

“I work too-”

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

“No, no, don’t even–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“John,” the man snaps his fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod and look down at the dark alcohol.

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

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

“It was stupid to come. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, and my other question.”

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

“Nine months.”

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

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

“Why?”

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

“I don’t know, tell me.”

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

“Look at me,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

“Why… am I here?”

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

“Shut up,” you try to shrug him away.

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

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

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

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

“You are wrong and I’m married.”

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

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

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

“I’m not convinced,” he says.

“What?”

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

You cringe and curl your lip, “please–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky,” you gurgle, “you–you–”

“Who am I, baby?” 

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

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #brock rumlow #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers #au #winter soldier #crossbones

[fluffyprettykitty]

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.

#summer sleepover #selenewrites #selene answers prompts #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #brock rumlow x female reader #brock rumlow imagine #brock rumlow fanfiction #brock rumlow fluff #brock rumlow smut #personal trainer au #marvel x reader #mcu

[demobatfluffyart]

Captain Crossbones, pirate AU

#ai art #brock rumlow #pirate au #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel comics #crossbones

[ramp-it-up]

Taste

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

Word Count: around 4K

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it was a time that would change you forever.

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

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book/Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up/Where them gangstas at?/ Where them dimes at?/They shootin'! Aw, made you look

They called you Bunny because of your teeth and your size. But you were a scrapper and could stand up for yourself. Your father taught you that. 

You also had a smart mouth, and roasted anyone who dared talk about you or your family. 

Your mother taught you that. 

When you came to your father’s house while your mother took her annual girls trip that summer, you found that your big brother was suddenly different. Gone was the quiet gangly 12 year old who drew up plans for world domination in composition books in his room; a wiry 13 year old who had friends who were just as scrappy and hungry as he was had taken his place.

Little Stevie Rogers never backed down from a fight. That’s where his best friend Bucky Barnes came in, backing him up when Stevie was against the wall. Brock was the kid with vision, the one who had a plan to get them where they wanted to be.

In power.

Your brother tried to ignore you, but you trailed after him because there was nothing better to do. One day, you sat in the stoop and watched him and his friends working to open the fire hydrant across the street from your dad’s house.

Your brother felt your eyes on them as you hugged your knees.You were a sight, bushy hair, glasses, braces, and an intense look on your face. He felt bad. 

For a second.

“Why don’t you go on over there and play dolls with Shandy and “n’em, Bunny?”

You glanced over at the girls playing on the next stoop, their braids wilting in the sun. They were playing with stiff dolls with stiff plastic hair and legs that didn’t bend. Not your scene.

You just poked your tongue out at him and moved to stand in the water now dripping out of the hydrant, your strawberry sneakers with the bows getting drenched. You smiled down at them, thinking of how mad your mother would be.

“Aw, c’mon Brock. She ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Let her have some fun.”

Bucky’s blue eyes shone down at you and you pushed up your glasses and looked up at him, squinting in the sun. Stevie’s bony elbow bumped into yours as you hopped to avoid the bruising gush of water along the pavement as they succeeded in their quest.

“Sorry.”

Stevie smiled at you. He really was a nice boy, even though he was pugnacious. Bucky was a smart ass, however.

“You don’t want her to melt, do ya? Your old man would skin you alive.” 

Stevie and Bucky laughed as Brock scowled. He didn’t have time for benevolence or little sisters. He had plans. He shook his head.

“Focus. We gotta stick with the plan. Sammy Wilson is coming over to talk about what’s happening tonight, and she doesn’t need to be around.”

You flipped Brock off behind Bucky and Stevie’s back, and he just scowled harder at you. No matter what you did, he didn’t engage with you like you wanted him to. How boring.

Bucky whistled. 

“Wilson is fast. That dude can run his ass off.”

Sam was on the track team at the high school down the block.

“I can beat him.”

Stevie puffed his bird chest out and Brock and Bucky laughed at him. You felt bad. 

“I believe you Stevie.”

He grinned at you and ducked his head.

Brock rolled his eyes and you flipped him off.

He pointed back at you.

“I’m sick of you. I’m telling Dad.”

You thrilled at the attention.

“Go ahead, I’ll tell him what you’re up to.”

Brock grabbed you by the shirt, snarling.

“You better not say a fucking word.”

You pulled away and landed on the pavement, your knee skinned. You kneeled, bending over to look at it, and to keep your tears inside, when you heard the voice of an angel.

“Need some help?”

You looked up into a face haloed by the sun. You reached for the hand that was offered and stood up to look into the face of 14 year old Sammy Wilson. And you were done for.

That gap tooth smile, those eyes. That skin.

You stared at him as you registered laughter around you. Sam spoke again.

“You okay?”

He seemed like he really wanted to know how you were.

“Y-yeah.”

He chuckled.

“You better clean that off.”

Sam took your hand and led you back over to the hydrant. He kneeled down, cupped water in his hand and cleaned off your knee.

“Sssssss!” 

It stung.

“Sorry. But it’s for your own good.”

You felt warm, and not just from the heat, as you let him take care of you.

You stared at him as he finished.

“That’s the best I can do. You need to get a band-aid.”

“Okay.” 

You would do anything he said. Sam looked up at you and it was like the air was sucked out of your body. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but it intrigued you.

“No problem. I got a little sister at home. Sarah. Just looking out. You gotta be careful.”

He smiled as he stood up and walked away. 

You watched him move over to the other boys, forever changed because that’s when you fell in love with Sammy Wilson.

You spent that last summer in Brooklyn as the unofficial mascot of the Savage Crims, the newest gang on the block. Steve, Bucky, and Sam adopted you and you became scout, lookout, and spy. It was the best summer of your life.

Your mother moved to Los Angeles that fall and took you with her. She started dating more legitimate businessmen, meaning the same type of men as your father, just with generational wealth and privilege.

It was a different world than New York. You went to fancy private schools and learned how to play the game. You were now a “friendly black hottie,” sidekick to the main character in every scene. 

But you were smart. 

As you grew older, you watched and learned and played the part, and soon, you were running the game. By the time you graduated from high school, you were the center of attention, just the way you liked it. 

Your mother was engaged, and you and she were on the cusp of something she’d dreamed of her entire life: being iconic.

You started your first two years in college at UCLA, but you convinced your mother that fashion was how you would enable yourself to meet the best type of men, and that Parsons School of design in New York was the place to be. 

You acted as if you were uninterested in reconnecting with Brock, who your mom thought hadn’t contacted you in eight years aside from telling you that your father had died.

You convinced your mother that you wouldn’t venture off the island of Manhattan, and she believed you because she was in the midst of applying the full court press on her man.

The truth was, you and Brock kept in touch regularly, and you were eager to see your brother again. 

And his friends.

So you flew back East in 2012, 10 years after you left, butterflies threatening to fly out of your mouth as you landed at Laguardia. 

After a few weeks in the city establishing your dominance, you showed up at the boys’offices unannounced. He knew you were in town, and told you about how successful he was now, with the help of Bucky and Steve. 

And Sam. 

You were going to go see just how successful everyone was. 

And how lucky you could get.

“Who the hell is that?”

Bucky peered at the camera about the buzzer to the brownstone. Steve came over to look as well.

“It can’t be… Brock, c’mere.”

“What is it? We’re trying to work out this next shipment…”

Brock looked at the camera as Sam watched his jaw drop from the table.

“Who is it?”

“Fuck! That’s Bunny!”

Brock backed up as Steve pressed the buzzer. He opened the door to wait for you to climb the stairs.

“Stevie!?” 

Your excited shriek was muffled as the now beefy blonde picked you up immediately to twirl you around into the loft space.

You stood back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

“Wow! You have filled out.”

“I must have learned from you…” 

Steve looked you up and down when you heard a roar in your ear.

“Bunny!”

Bucky gave you a bear hug to where you couldn’t breathe. You pounded his back and punched him in the pecs when he let go. You caught your breath and then turned to Brock, whose eyes were shining.

“God, you’re grown up. You’re not my little Bunny anymore.”

“Shut up, stupid.”

You embraced your brother, surprised at your emotion. You were choking up, about to sob in his arms.

“I missed you.”

You whispered into his shirt.

“Missed you too, kid.”

You let him go and you dabbed at your eyes. You heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Sam standing next to you.

“Hey Sammy!”

You tried to make your voice light, so as not to betray your feelings. You’d replayed this moment in your mind a million times.

He was a man now. And damn. What a man. Tall, dark and handsome. But with that same smile. 

Sam tried to be cool. Brock was right. You weren’t little any more. A full grown woman. He tried to not check you out because he knew Brock was watching, but damn. You were beautiful. All over.

“Well? Can I get a hug?”

Sam unfroze himself.

“Of course.”

You seemed to melt into him, your breasts pressed against his chest, his lats seeming to mold around you. He could do this all day. 

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s raised eyebrow and he released you, stepping back and over to the table to try and pretend that all of his senses were not tuned on you.

“How’s Sarah?”

Sam smiled.

“Good. You should call her.”

You smiled back

“I will.”

Bucky interrupted.

“Tell me all about your socialite world, Ms.Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Rumlow ‘til I die.”

You locked eyes with Sam.

“Who does a girl have to screw to get a drink around here?”

You joked and the room fell silent.

“No one.” Brock deadpanned. “And you’ll wait another year until you’re legal.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, like everything is legal up in here.”

It was just like old times: you giving them all hell. Although Sam’s hell was different now. 

Bucky handed you a bottle of water.

“Thanks Buck!” 

You sat and crossed your legs across from Sam and Brock.

“So. How’s things?”

You four talked for hours, ordering pizza from Sal’s and shooting the shit. It was almost midnight when they drew straws to see who would take you home. Sam drew the short straw. 

Lucky him.

You rode in the passenger seat of Sam’s BMW, arms folded across your chest, an adorable bratty pout on your delectable lips. He’d been watching that mouth all night, torturing himself with visions of those in various places on his body. He was getting hard. 

Sam stifled a moan which he tried to play off.

You jumped a little when he growled at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”

You turned toward him, mad.

“First of all, I’m not a little girl any more.”

“Yeah, Right.”

It sounded dismissive, but Sam was really just agreeing with you.

“Second of all, y’all really drew straws to take me home?”

You glared at him as he laughed at your outrage.

“I’m not the little tagalong from years ago. I didn’t even need you to take me home. I could call anyone to come get me. To come get this.”

You held up your flip phone and indicated your body. Sam’s dark eyes took you in and felt possessive. Holy shit, he was in deep. 

“I’m sure you got lots of hardheads after you.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and looked back at the road as he drove to The Village.

“We’re busy men, Bunny. We got important work to do. Brock will be working for a couple more hours, Bucky is running the streets, and Steve probably has a date right now…”

“At 1 am? You mean a booty call.”

Sam continued, ignoring you.

“But what will never change is us protecting you. We’re family, Bunny.”

You pushed his head and he glared at you.

“Same little boys is all I see. Important crimes, you mean.”

You huffed back into your seat, your breasts bouncing in your spandex dress. Sam fought to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’ll show you a little boy. Don’t try me, Bunny.”

You turned back to him, batting your eyes, but your attitude on 1000.

“I’d love to try you Sammy.”

Sam had the urge to take you by the throat and slide you up and down his dick, but he just squeezed the steering wheel harder, trying to ignore you. 

“Hey Sammy.”

He sideyed you. Your voice was too sweet.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, don’t be a prude. I drank all the time in Europe this summer.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Europe, and I don’t give a fuck.”

You sat back in your seat, grumbling and frustrated. He would never see you as anything but little Bunny. By the time you got to campus, you didn’t even wait for Sam to park before you jumped out. He caught up with you, long legs gaining ground quickly. He grabbed your arm.

“Hey!”

“Let me go!”

You turned around and popped him in the nose by reflex.

“Shit!” 

Sam held his face and doubled over.

“Oh, my damn! I’m sorry Sammy. Let me see.”

“Stop…”

Sam pulled away from you and as his hands moved, blood spattered all over his shirt and the concrete below him.

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Sam was moving away.

“Just.. leave me alone. I’m okay…”

“No you’re not. I’m sorry Sammy. Come up to my place. Please. I’ll clean you up.”

Sam opened his watery eyes to see your remorseful face and let you lead him up to your apartment, up three flights of stairs. You took him immediately to the bathroom and you washed him up, giving him a wet washcloth and telling him to lean his head forward, indicating the toilet.

Sam sat down and did as he was told, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You sat on the floor below him and stared up at him, hugging your knees.

“I’m so so so so sorry Sammy…”

He looked at you, silent, and continuing to pinch his nose.

You stayed with him for 15 minutes until he stopped bleeding and stood up again, cleaning up a bit more. You felt so bad.

You stared at his shirt as he stood.

“Jeez, Sammy, take that shirt off, let me soak it.”

Sam remained silent, but took off his shirt.

You bent over to get some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, scrubbed the shirt a little, then soaked it in cold water.

Sam was watching your ass, almost feral at the fact that you were such a brat. You needed to be tamed. But you were Brock’s kid sister. He was so torn. 

“You can grab a sweatshirt out of my –” 

You turned around toward and stopped mid thought, mind blank at the sight of Sam’s shirtless form.

“Holy shit.”

Sam gave you a lopsided grin.

“You keep sweatshirts in your holy shit?”

You didn’t even hear the tease, just licked your lips as you stepped toward him.

“Sammy?”

Sam gulped and tried to calm down. But the look on your face was everything at the moment. He knew he probably should have, but he didn’t stop you as you entered his space. You reached your hand up to his nose.

“Are you ok?”

“I think so.” 

Sam reached up and manually shifted his nose. 

“Probably just broken for the third time. Been in a couple of scraps.”

Your fingers entwined with his and you brought them to your lips. Tears started to slide down your face.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry. I’m ok.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and then leaned back.

As you looked up at him, he whispered, “So damn beautiful, Bunny…” 

Suddenly, he was kissing your face, collecting your salt water with his lips. Then, he pulled away.

“What are we doing?” 

You began to nuzzle his palm, while your hands reached for his pecs.

“Stop thinking so much, Sammy…”

“Thinking’s what got us into this..”

You nodded.

“D’you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”

Your eyes followed your hands as they traced his chest, then his sternum down to his happy trail. His stomach clenched at the sensation. He was too far gone.

“How long?”

“From the first time someone tried to be with me sexually. I never really wanted to, I mean I’ve messed around, I can suck your soul out, but I’ve never wanted anyone inside of me.”

You were tracing his hard on outside of his pants, your face upturned now.

“Are you trying to say that…you’re…”

You nodded again.

“You were always in the back of my mind, Sam. I only want you.”

Sam tilted his head downward and captured your lips in a kiss, as though it were inevitable.

You both drew back and then your lips crashed together again, your bodies pressed up against each other urgently.

The kiss was everything you ever imagined and everything Sam didn't know that he wanted. Your hands went for his belt buckle. At that moment, Sam placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him.

“We can’t do this.”

You nodded, stepped back and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re one of my brother’s best friends. No need for you to pop my cherry or anything.”

You two stared at each other. Then you licked your lips. Sam cocked his eyebrow, trying to restrain himself from the animalistic urges your filthy mouth gave him.

“You little brat.”

Sam grabbed your neck to pull you close to him. He reached down to pull your skirt up and he rubbed your ass like he was trying to shine it. He then put both hands on you to spread your cheeks apart. Your wetness was evident in the sound. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed.

“Sounds like you really want this.”

For once in your life, you were speechless, and Sam reached down and angled your head up so he could look at you.

“I need you tonight Sam.”

You kissed him again and tried to get on your knees. But Sam stopped you and led you over to your bed.

“You’re the queen right now.”

You pulled off your dress and stood there in your bra and panties as Sam pulled you toward your bed to lay beside him, his hand caressing down the side of your body. 

He moved his fingers over the lace of your bra to find your nipple, and when it was discovered, he pinched it to see your reaction. The way your eyes closed halfway and your mouth opened was everything. He reached behind you to expertly unhook your bra and looked down on you.

“You're so beautiful.”

And he dipped his head running his tongue around the edges of your areola, making your nipple rock hard against his breath. Then, he started sucking in earnest, his huge hand going to tweak and play with the other. You threw your head back in earnest, the feeling in your cunt growing with each pull of his mouth. You started moaning.

“You mean to tell me…. That no one has ever… had the pleasure…”

Sam asked the important question between having his mouth on you. He couldn’t get enough.

You shook your head and furrowed your brow. It was taking you out of the moment. Sex was just a means to an end for you up until now.

“I suck them off, and they’re satisfied. S’not a big deal….. Ahhhhh.”

Sam stopped what he was doing to look into your eyes. 

“It is a big deal, Bunny. You deserve everything.”

Sam tenderly kissed your lips as he pulled your panties off, and then returned to your breasts. Tears slipped down your face to the pillow beneath your head as he finally parted your legs. His hand, led by his long middle finger slid down your wet, wet folds to play in your slick. 

“Mmmmmm. That’s that shit I like.” 

Sam rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations reached your nipple, causing you to arch into his mouth and hand. Sam’s fingers worked your clit and you could feel it get hard and plucky. You heard the sloshing wetness of your arousal. So did Sam. He pulled off to look at you again.

“You ever play with yourself?”

The look on his face was part possession and part genuine concern.

“Of course. But not this goooddddd…. Shit Sam. I just hit it and quit it…. Fuckkkk that feels good.”

Sam was plucking your nipple with one hand and rubbing your clit in expert circles with the other, watching the ecstasy on your face as you neared your peak. 

“C’mon for me now. Cum. right here in my hand…Yes…. That’s a girl…”

It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Holy mother of……ssshhhhhhiiiiittttt! Sam! Fuckkkk fuck fuck fuck!”

You tried to grab his hand to move it away, but he was strong. Oh so strong. He didn’t stop.

“Sam… I… Sam stop..I can't…”

“You can, and you will. Take it. You’re tough. You can take it.” 

You convulsed as your pulses slowed down and you tried to relax.

“That’s a girl. Just give it to me. Let me have it. Love that shit. You’re beautiful right now, you know that?”

You calmed under his praise and got into the groove of his pleasure.

Sam’s fingers started exploring you, one of them sliding easily inside you, so he added another, but when he reached the second knuckle, you clamped down hard.

“Shit, Bunny. You’re so so tight.”

Sam looked at you with lust and you could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, his precum making a mess.

“Thought that first one would have loosened you up. Looks like you need at least one more.”

Your eyes grew wide as he slid down your body, fingers still inside you, but now his mouth clamping around your clit, which was still sensitive. Your knees closed around his head and he pried them off with one hand.

“Take it Bunny. You deserve.”

It was the last thing he said before he destroyed your soul with his mouth. He licked and sucked and lapped, and his fingers slid inside you and curled the spark of pain muted by the fireworks behind your eyes as you came harder than you ever had in your life, including a few minutes earlier.

“Hnnnnh, hunnnnnnhh. Sam…”

He was kneeling up now, grabbing for his pants and a condom. When you saw the foil packet, you stopped him.

“No Sammy. Wanna feel you.”

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Mom put me on the pill when I was 13. It’s like a vitamin now. I’m good.”

Sam nodded and his thumb went to your still vibrating clit as he swiped his head in your viscous slit. He managed to pop his thicker-than-you-thought head inside you, but you yelped in pain as he tried to slide in.

He leaned down, arms on either side of your head as you clutched his shoulders.

“You good?”

You nodded, tears in your eyes as you smiled.

“I want it, I need it. Give it to me.”

Sam looked at you, shook his head and smiled.

He slid inside you slowly, seeming to grow wider and longer with each inch that he gave you. The burning between your legs was soothed by his praise and tender kisses on your forehead.

“There you go.  Feels so so good for me Bunny. You’re doing so good. I can’t believe this… Make me wanna cum already. This pussy is so tight. And so good. Better than I’ve ever had…”

Sam relaxed you, and you began to enjoy that he was taking you apart. When your moans matched his thrusts was when he started to give it to you, his will power waning.

You were the epitome of desire.

He hiked your leg above his hip so that he could dig deeper and his thumb found your clit again.

“One more Bunny. Just one more…”

He felt you flutter around him and he gripped the base of his cock. 

“Sammy….”

“Yes… oh… fuck yes….”

“Ohhh! Ah!”

Your cream gushed around him as you came and Sam grunted and let go inside you.

“Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk aahhhhhhh ahhhh. Fuck!”

Sam felt like he his balls would never empty and he slumped on top of you, feeling your arms snake around him to hold him.

“Mmmm… Sammy.”

He could hear the smile in your voice. He leaned up off of you and kissed your nose, looking into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You smiled at him and Sam’s heart was gone. You had it locked up.

“Better than okay.”

He kissed you again.

“Stay right here.”

He went to the bathroom, coming backwith a washcloth and tenderly cleaned you up. You heard the bath running.

“You’re going to be sore.”

“Yes. I’m going to feel you for a week.”

Sam grinned and you saw his cock come to life. You smirked and gingerly moved ot get out of bed.

“Join me in the bathtub Sammy. Wanna try the wet and wild….”

Sam was hypnotized by the sway of your ass.

He didn’t think of the implications of what just happened. He’d had a taste, and his hunger was voracious. He just wanted you.

And that would become a problem.

Reblogging is always a good thing if you liked it.

#sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #mob boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader #sam wilson x rumlow! reader #mob boss! sam wilson #this thing of ours au #sam wilson x black! reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #brock rumlow #brock rumlow x reader #mob!steve rogers #mob! bucky #mob! sam wilson #Sam x Bunny #ttoo

[hainethehero]

Stucky headcanon of Steve and Bucky meeting in the 21st century...

"The mission is simple, get in, get the containment, get out. Minimum casualties."

Steve nods at Fury's instruction, accepting the report he'd just been handed.

"Thought this was a one-man job?"

The sound of heavy, thick-soled boots echo throughout Fury's office. Steve turns to look at James Buchanan Barnes, otherwise known as The Winter Soldier. Natasha had given him the run-down on Barnes and according to her, he was the best assassin SHIELD had ever commissioned. With over two dozen assassinations, one being a U.S president and top World Court officials making up the rest, Steve had to admit that the guy's resumé was impressive.

He rises to his feet and holds out a hand, a gesture in greeting cos his Mama always taught him to be polite.

"Hello, I'm Steve," he says with one of his best smiles.

Barnes watches him, then his outstretched hand and then turn backs to Fury with a dry look of mild annoyance.

"I work better alone. You know that."

Steve's smile drops along with his hand and he returns to his seat a little put out by Barnes's hostility. He could feel his cheeks burn from embarrassment.

"Well, Captain Rogers has been added to the scheme. He is at your disposal. And when I say disposal, I mean, he's the reason why the mission is minimum-casualty-coded."

Barnes lets out a frustrated sound, a hand on his hip. Steve takes in his black combat gear, noting the probable location of several knives and guns. He's got a black hoodie on but only one hand is gloved. Steve assumes it's simply a training preference. Natasha never mentioned just how good-looking he was, though.

Steve usually kept his attraction to other people carefully hidden beneath a veneer of indifference. Barnes just shattered it. He was Steve's height, with dark, chocolate hair that was swept up into a lazy bun, strands framing his face fashionably. His eyes were a wolfish blue, deep and intimidating. He was thick and brawny where Steve was slim and agile. Steve found himself wondering how it would feel to be under all that muscle during training.

He blushes from the absurdity of his own thoughts and looks away while Barnes continues to plead his case.

"I don't need help-"

"These orders come from the top, so there's really nothing I can do, Barnes." Fury tells him tiredly. "Now, quit pestering me and help your newest teammate get acquainted with mission training. Goodbye."

Bucky rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room before halting at the doors. He doesn't even turn around to look at Steve, but grunts,

"You comin' or what, Spangles?"

Steve hesitantly follows, heart in his throat because it was obvious this Winter guy didn't like his guts. He assumes his rep as the legendary Captain America would have some of the top guys at SHIELD skeptical, hell, he wasn't even well-liked back in his day. He vividly remembers being attacked with fruit during the USO tours. Remembers the resentment on the faces of men like Hodge and Greg, and most of the unit he'd served with until he'd earned their respect when he brought back the 107th.

If he hadn't done that, he imagined he'd be a poster boy for war bonds for his entire miserable life. He'd been to the Smithsonian, seen his exhibit and how they emphasized his time in the military. It was almost as if they didn't know there was an actual Steve Rogers underneath it all. As if they just wanted the world to know that he was all gung-ho for the war. Like he hadn't joined because he'd just lost his mother and wanted to do his best to follow in her footsteps and protect people from bullies.

Suddenly all his nerves had gone out and he was left in a state of shocked despair and depression.

It made sense for Barnes to despise him. Everything he was screamed self-righteousness.

"You comin' or what?" Bucky asks gruffly, shaking him from his thoughts. The elevator had stopped, he realizes, onto a new floor. He follows Barnes, finding it suspiciously hard to keep up with the man's quick and powerful strides.

They enter a standardized training room that's already buzzing with what Steve guesses is Bucky's team. There are about ten men milling about, some doing weights while others are working on weaponry. Steve notices one guy he'd worked with during the New York invasion with the Avengers.

"Holy shit," the man cackles, approaching them covered in sweat.

"Rumlow," he greets with a more professional air. If Bucky's reaction to him was anything to go by, he figured it'd be smarter to be professional, rather than polite. He was used to people not liking him very much.

"Rogers, didn't expect them to bring you in already."

"You knew about this?" Bucky snipes in a pissy tone.

Brock shrugs, "Heard a rumor a couple weeks ago, didn't think of it til now."

"Great," Bucky mumbles while the other guys approach them. Steve takes a step back warily, feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope.

Bucky glances at him, eyes narrowed for a second before he talks again. "Captain, this is my STRIKE team. I'm assuming you know Rumlow, he's second in command. After him, Rollins. Wilson is one of our newer recruits but we've worked with his team before. He's pararescue. And our two specialists, Lopez and Murdock."

Lopez signs "hello" at Steve and he signs back in greeting, offering her an easy smile. Then he glances at Bucky who's eyes seem to harden and his smile drops again. Great, now his team captain thinks he's flirting with the only woman on the team.

Keep it up, Rogers. You'll be kicked out within the week.

"We have roughly two weeks to prepare for this retrieval. And now, thanks to Fury, we also have to bring Spangles into the loop." Bucky announces, matter-of-factly. Steve winces at the nickname he can already see as a permanent moniker in the very near future.

"Let's get to work."

This is for @thebrooklynnway as per my last post about Marvel villains being absolutely enamoured with "the pretty blonde himbo with big tits and a nice ass."

Also, I feel like I should write a fic about this.

#stucky #steve rogers #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #stucky headcanon #stucky imagine #21st century stucky au #avengers #tony stark #nick fury #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #brock rumlow #jack rollins #echo #matt murdock #daredevil #bottom steve rogers #steve rogers is a bottom #sub steve rogers #dom bucky barnes #top bucky barnes #alpha bucky barnes #omega steve rogers #meet cute #or not #marvel #mcu

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

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

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

Breeding the Winter Soldier

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

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

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

His mate is going to be so confused.

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

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

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

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You son of a bitch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

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

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

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

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rogers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… Bucky—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

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

“You think it’ll take?”

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

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

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

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

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[sjsmith56]

The Fae Elements, Part 5 - Battle

Summary: The safety of the sanctuary is breached setting up a deadly battle between Buck and Rumlow.

Length: 4.8 K

Characters: Buck, Sage, Rumlow, Thor, Hope

Warnings: Violence causing death, death of an adult child, grief.

Author notes: The images displayed in the banner above were created by the author using Microsoft Copilot app, in Designer mode.

<<Part 4

⛈️🪽🗡️

A thunderstorm came that night, along with a heavy rain. The flashes and booms frightened me, and I clutched at Buck, fearing that the cottage would be struck or that a tree would come crashing down upon us.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his warm body my only comfort. "Thor is sending thunderstorms to many places. Dark fae don't like the water in any form, but especially in one that flows. The rains from this storm will swell the rivers making it impossible for them to cross. They won't venture out in it, either."

His soft caresses and gentle kisses helped allay my fears enough for me to fall asleep. When I awoke in the morning it was still raining but it was a soft and comforting gentle rain; it's thrumming on the roof a reminder that I was safe in the arms of my lover. How I loved thinking of Buck in that way. The way our bodies were intertwined in the soft bed under the window was the stuff of fantasies. Almost as if he heard my thoughts Buck roused and opened his eyes, turning his head towards me.

"Good morning," he rumbled, before kissing my forehead and looking outside. "Looks like we get to stay in bed for a while."

"Was that something the fae king ordered?" I asked.

"Well, I might have let it slip that you accepted my proposal," he grinned. "My council were pretty sure you would."

"In all of the fantasy books I read I never heard of a fae king having a council. Is that an unusual thing?"

"I brought it up when I was first made fae king." He shifted to his side so that he could look at me while he played with my hair. "Having spent so long living in the mortal world with my father I wasn't sure I knew enough to rule by myself." I looked at him questioningly. "My mother asked my father to raise me and teach me how he lived. She was ... different, even among fae kind. I sometimes wonder if she had the "second sight," the ability to see into the future.  I spent my first 40 years with him until he died. Twenty-five years later I was called as a candidate. It was unprecedented for a half-fae and one so young to be chosen. I presented the thought of a council to advise me to the sacred tree, and it selected trustworthy fae to it. I've been told I'm a good king, a natural leader."

"Is she still alive?"

"No, she truly loved my father and followed him just a few years after his death. She was already over 400 years of age, considered old for many fae. Rulers draw power from the earth, sky and water so it lengthens our life span. Thor is the only one who is older than I am, as his bloodline has the gift of longevity. He has been part of my council since the beginning. Even Loki, as his brother, hasn't lived as long, as he is from a different bloodline, the Frost Giants. He was orphaned as a baby and adopted into Thor's family. You probably noticed his touch was cooler."

"Is everything alright between you two?" I asked. "I sensed some tension when he greeted me."

"That's just because he fancies himself as irresistible." He lowered his lips to mine to kiss me. "He's quite the flirt and has bedded many, both mortal and fae. I ... I was pleased to see you seemed immune to his charms."

"For a brief time, I thought he might be the Dark Overlord," I said. "Then he showed up at the beach and I realized I was wrong."

"I suspected Rumlow of being the one for some time," said Buck. He sighed. "We have a past. I knew him during the troubles. For a fae, he seemed remarkably unconcerned when several were accused of being in league with the dark one. He defended some individuals more than he defended others, including Daere's sister. It was obvious, in retrospect. All this time he's been rebuilding his powers and his personal wealth. You know I'm not really a billionaire. It all belongs to Gaia Life. I get a substantial salary as "CEO", but my actual worth is considerably less." He smiled. "Just in case you were marrying me for my money."

I smiled back at him as we kissed. "If you were a regular man, not a fae, what would you do?"

He took his time thinking of an answer as he shifted to look up at the ceiling of the bedroom, the sound of the gentle rain in the background.

"A carpenter," he finally said. "Not the type that builds houses, although I could do that and enjoy it. I would make furniture, creating something beautiful and functional out of wood. It's kind of how I relax now. I go into the forest and look for newly fallen trees, dragging them here and stripping them of their bark. After that I cut them into planks or lumber and let them dry. Once they've dried enough, I can build something out of it. I built this bed, the dressers, and cupboards and bookshelves downstairs."

Shifting so he was laying on his side he gazed at me, occasionally stroking my hair or arm. It didn't take long before he was hovering over me and I had the vision of him, the same one that I had after he asked me out to dinner. Except his hair was already loose, and I ran my hand through it just before he lowered his lips to mine. When his lips explored more of my body, it was uncanny how he knew what I liked. Every part of my being was alight with desire for him as he brought me closer to ecstasy. With the soft light of the grey skies falling on the bed, and the sound of the rain adding to the romantic ambience it felt like I was in the middle of a great love story. Here in his retreat in the middle of the forest, we were free to be our authentic selves, without the responsibility of our callings, or the fear of outside forces.

Even as we released our bodies to the bliss that we brought out of each other there was something that kept telling me it was all an enchantment, something fragile that could be lost before it ever had a chance to begin. The strangest part of it was that I was more afraid for Buck than I was for myself. He mentioned his mother having "second sight", a term I understood to mean a form of clairvoyance. Was I experiencing that for myself? Because somewhere, at the edge of my mind, at the perimeter of my thoughts was another vision of me hovering over Buck, as the colour drained from his face and his eyes lost their inner light. It was a vision that only came out after I saw Rumlow transform the night before. I never told Buck that I thought I had a vision of his death, which frightened me more than any thought of the Dark Overlord coming for me. I'm sure he knew because our lovemaking that morning was so gentle, yet so passionate it was like he was trying to convince me that I had nothing to worry about it.

Over the next while Buck schooled me in the ways of the fae, teaching me how to use my existing powers to listen to the life forces of my surroundings. I could hear the sound of wings high above me in the air, or the scratch of a mouse, as it dragged a nut into its den. It was all part of the unseen life around us in the forest. We did receive updates, either by thoughts shared between Buck and his council, or by the occasional nighttime visit of Sam, Steve, or Hope. I started getting up for those, joining Buck outside as he communed with the night, when the cycle of the moon waning was followed by the darkness of the new moon. They brought news of the preparations for our marriage ceremony. Hope told me more about my part in the ceremony and how my body would change in the 24 hours of that longest day and shortest night. In the evenings, our quiet time by the fireplace was followed by more passion in the bedroom, passion that I had always longed for before I met Buck.

There was one thing that hadn't yet happened but when I brought it up, Buck smiled and agreed that it was time. It was the week before we were to be married and he had yet to show me his true form. Standing in front of me, outside in the sun, shirtless, I watched as his tattoos and wings visibly changed in front of me. His wings changed first, into something more ethereal, with smaller finer feathers that were delicate in appearance. His tattoo changed to that of a single great tree, its textured roots extending below his navel, while the trunk extended up over his abdomen then spread into branches over his chest and shoulders, then down his arms. The raised texture of the tattoo pulsed as if the tree itself was living. Around us, the daylight had darkened, reminding me of a solar eclipse, and I could see stars behind him. A blue glow became visible in his eyes, tattoo and wings, pulsing with an otherworldly energy. His ears elongated taking the shape of those of an elf, followed by the sprouting of small branches from his head. It was beautiful, as it showed his love for the forest.

"This is my true self," he said, his blue eyes focused on me. "I am the spirit of the forest. It's safety and wellbeing are my greatest concern. Throughout the ages I have helped the mortals who respected this space, sharing its gifts with them, sheltering them under the thick canopies when they have been lost, hiding them when they were troubled. When the religion of the One came my ancestors were called pagan, yet they adapted some of our beliefs into their own because we worshipped creation as they did, at the beginning. Now they worship profit, sacrificing this world for their need for riches."

I came closer, tentatively touching his tree tattoo, watching as his face reacted to my touch. Then he smiled at me and pressed his lips into my neck, breathing his warmth into the place where my own pulse beat. Somehow, we were suddenly unclothed, and I was lying on a soft bed of moss, this otherworldly being of incredible beauty looking down on me, making me feel I was the centre of his existence. We made love in the middle of the forest, giving and taking pleasure with each other.

On the next day, a cloudy one, we hiked for a couple of hours, ending up at a natural hot spring, bubbling out of a rock formation. The water cascaded down into several levels of pools. Although it smelled of sulphur it was a more natural scent than the one that lingered in my apartment after the Horde were there. We undressed and sat in one of the warm pools for an hour, making love, then basking in its warmth before drying off and getting dressed again. Buck flew us back, taking the opportunity to share a bird's eye view of his haven. On our return he prepared to cut some more wood, so I took the opportunity to forage for mushrooms, greens, and nuts for our dinner. Just as I was satisfied with my haul, I began the return to the cottage, then stopped for I could smell the burnt sulphurous smell of the man who attacked me. At the same time, I heard a tortured cry from the direction of the cottage. Turning, I saw a pair of red eyes, only this time they were in the head of a wolf-like beast. It's low growl, deep from within its throat, struck a chord of fear in me.

"Buck," I thought. "Help. I'm in trouble."

"Beloved. I'm coming."

Slowly, I backed away from the beast, taking care not to stumble, for I was certain it would leap at me. It was slow going, as I didn't want to look away, afraid if I did it would attack. It was joined by two others, and they stalked me with an intent that was obvious. Just as I had reached a part of the forest where I would have to look elsewhere to step safely, I heard Buck's voice in my head.

"I'm coming in by wing. Leave the food."

The sound of his great wings flapping while he slowed to reach me, signalled me to drop the basket and I did so, as Buck grasped me around the waist and lifted me straight up in the air. Immediately, all three beasts launched themselves at us, and Buck shot up even higher, so we were out of their reach. Just as he was about to turn, a dark winged figure attacked him from above, and he almost dropped me.

"Hold on," he said, as he swooped away from the winged creature and flew towards a flowing river with an island in the middle. "Its beasts won't go into the water. I'm going to have to fight so as soon as I let you go, run for cover while I protect your retreat."

Several times he had to swerve to avoid the attack of the dark figure that flew with us. Then suddenly, we were over the island and Buck dropped me from a height of several feet, then turned to meet the attacker again. I ran for a hidden space in a rock formation, watching as the two of them grappled in the air. The creature, covered in thick leathery skin of a dark grey colour, with the addition of black feathers on parts of its wing, several horns sprouting from its head, long black hair, and claws for fingers was relentless in its assault on Buck. Whenever one of them slammed into the ground I could feel the reverberations through the terrain. It was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time.

The sounds of howls from across the river drew attention to the presence of the wolf-like beasts that had cornered me in the forest. As Buck said, they didn't try to cross the flowing water, but did transform into their human shape, revealing them to be part of the Horde, which meant the winged attacker was likely Rumlow. He answered his underlings, landing on the ground and facing Buck with his wings unfurled. A carved black weapon appeared in his hand, seeming to be part sword and part staff.

"Well, Barnes, I told your little slut that I would find a way into your haven," he sneered. "You thought your magic was strong enough to keep me out but my claim on her is stronger than yours."

Buck landed also, with a look of pure and desperate fury. I watched as his clothing transformed into battle gear. His arms and body were covered in chain mail, with a protective silver-grey metal armour adorned with beautiful symmetrical etchings, while his knees and shins were protected with coverings of the same metal. A sword magically appeared in his hand, looking remarkably comfortable in his grip.

"Your claim was thrown out years ago," he replied, in a voice that seethed with anger. "She has been under my protection since she was a child."

"She is the reincarnation of my bride!" Rumlow roared in anger. "I want her back."

"She was never your bride by choice," stated Buck, his blue eyes flashing. "You kidnapped her, forced her to eat your food to be beholden to you, then abused her until she took her own life. The sacred tree decreed it so."

"That's a lie!"

"You're the liar." Buck shifted so that he was blocking the path towards me. "You were supposed to perform 13 tasks to even be considered a suitor. Too much work for a dark fae so you broke the law and just took her against her will. The sacred hawthorn assigned me to be Sage's protector and I will do my duty to my last breath."

"So be it," answered Rumlow, leaping towards Buck with his weapon overhead. "You will die as easily as your spawn did."

The clash of metal on metal made a great sound that hurt my ears and I covered them with my hands, as the two men swung their weapons at each other over and over again. Rumlow was bigger and perhaps stronger, but Buck was quicker and more skilled as a fighter, drawing blood several times as he scored the arms and legs of the bigger fae. When the black-coloured ichor hit the ground, it sizzled and burned a hole in the grasses, an indicator of the toxicity that filled the dark fae. Several times they grappled together, punching each other with a force that probably could have shattered a great tree. Then one or the other would stagger back before regaining a foothold and trying to sweep the legs of the other out from under them, hoping to get the advantage by having them on the ground. At one point, I heard a distinct cracking sound emanate from Buck's left side and he winced in agony, as he went down on one knee, protecting that side with his bent arm. A cruel smile erupted on Rumlow's face, and he focussed on hitting Buck repeatedly in the same spot.

"NO!" I cried out and suddenly several rocks the size of my fist flew through the air, hitting Rumlow in the shoulder and head.

He roared at the distraction and stepped back, giving Buck an opening. He raised himself and thrust his sword into the other man's abdomen, burying it right up to the hilt. The black blood spurted out from the wound and Rumlow went down on one knee. Pulling the sword out, Buck thrust it in again, this time into the heart and a shriek like nothing I ever heard flew out of Rumlow's mouth.

"Sage, look away!"

I looked at Buck, at the fury in his face, and he commanded me again to look away. A terrible sound of flesh and bone being torn apart reached my ears and I covered them for it was a sound I never wanted to hear again. After a few moments, I dared to look and saw Buck standing over the body of Rumlow, black blood dripping from what looked like the heart he held in his hand. He dropped it and fell to one knee, just as a thunderbolt flew down from the sky, hitting the ground and revealing Thor, Sam, Steve and Hope. She came to me while the others went to Buck, immediately helping him to the river, where they physically removed his clothes and Thor carried him into the water.

"Why are they doing that?" I asked, suddenly afraid, recalling the vision I had of him dying.

"He needs cleansing from the kill," said Hope. "A dark fae's blood has evil properties that can infect him like a fever. Removing the heart is the only way to kill a dark fae overlord, which meant Buck had to reach inside Rumlow's body to get it. Flowing water is the only way to cleanse him of the effects of the blood." She looked across the river, seeing the bodies of the Horde. She made a small sign in the air with her hand that left a blue/green mark in the air. "Their souls have been released from their slavery. Each will face the creator before being allowed to move on. Come, we can return to the stronghold now. You will be safer there. My father needs to receive treatment in the healing pool."

While Steve and Sam covered Buck in a cloak, Thor raised a hammer to the sky and brought lightning down on the body of Rumlow, burning it into ash. Then he went across the river and did the same to the three bodies over there. Leaping back to the island, he looked kindly at me.

"I sense you have more questions," he said, sombrely. "Hold them for now until we take care of our king. He is weak from all that he was required to do to protect you and from the battle. You will have answers, I promise."

Hope led me closer to the others, with Sam and Steve supporting Buck between them. The three of them enclosed us with their wings, then Thor raised his hammer to the sky once more, bringing lightning down upon us. That enclosed us in a tunnel of light that we sped along for several long seconds, stopping on the same spot at the stronghold where we left several weeks before. Several attendants waited for us. A gurney was produced for Buck, and they wheeled him away, presumably to the healing pool, while I was led to a different room than where I was before. This one was larger, richly appointed, but still had that magnificent view of the valley.

"There are clothes in the closet for you, Lady Sage," said the attendant, a blonde woman I had never seen before. "When you have changed, I will be waiting to take you to the dining room where the council awaits your presence for dinner."

After quickly showering and getting dressed I opened the door and found her waiting. She smiled but said nothing as she led me down one of those hallways lit by the glowing walls, until we came to a large glass walled room with a large dining table. It looked out over the valley, making me wonder if every room in the stronghold looked out over it. I counted a dozen people waiting for me, none of them Buck, making me the 13th. I wondered if that was an omen for something bad.

"Lady Sage, please don't be alarmed," said Thor. "Our king is still healing in the pool but will be there for some time replenishing his energy. Join us and make our number equal the full council."

"But that's 13," I said. "It's an unlucky number."

"To the followers of the one god, yes," he replied. "To the fae, it isn't as it is a sacred number for many reasons."

"I don't understand," I replied.

"I know, but it is not unlucky to us. Please, sit and we will attempt to enlighten you."

As the meal was served, and the wine poured, I learned that 13 is considered lucky in many mythologies including pagan and Norse ones. Associated with the menstrual cycle of a woman, of which there were 13 cycles in a year, the same as lunar cycles, it symbolized fertility. Their council, since it followed the pagan way, had to be made up of 13 individuals, usually including the king. Also associated with fertility was the hawthorn tree, of which my last name was based on. It was connected to the source of my powers, as I wasn't just a descendant of Lilith, I was apparently a descendant of the first fae king, Hawthorn, who planted the tree and imbued it with the powers of the forest, then with his own spirit after his death. Even though I was mortal, I apparently had a stronger bloodline than many of the council.

"What does that all mean?" I asked. "Buck said during the fight with Rumlow that he was assigned to be my protector by the sacred hawthorn. He accused Rumlow of stealing an ancestor of mine and forcing her to be his wife."

"It's true," said Thor. "When the first fae king Hawthorn moved on, his spirit stayed with the tree. He has looked out for his descendants ever since. Each king vows to protect the descendants of that Hawthorn as part of their covenant with the light fae. Your father was a descendant of him, and so was protected by Buck. His cancer could not be healed in our healing pools but could by the laying on of the hands of the king. But to do so meant Buck's ability to protect you would be weakened. Your father declined the offer, sacrificing his life for you, Sage. He wanted to keep you safe above all else. Buck had already gifted you the pendant you wear, which was also a sacrifice, in a sense. It meant that your parents were agreeing to you becoming his wife; a protective bond as strong as any magic, even if you're not aware of it. Buck had little choice in the matter, as his powers were stretched thinly, protecting you, your family, the light fae, the stronghold, the sanctuaries he created, and many other areas he felt responsible for. He took so much on, more than we were aware. But he is at heart a protector and felt it was his duty. Even though the pendant gave him the right to claim you as his bride, it was always your choice. He would not have forced himself on you, unlike Rumlow."

"Rumlow presented himself as a suitor for an ancestor of yours," added Hope. "Each suitor was to perform 13 tasks as proof of their integrity. Instead, he secretly kidnapped her, took her to his home and didn't feed her hunger or her thirst for several days. When he finally offered her food, she took it, effectively giving herself to him willingly, even though it wasn't done honestly. He was not a good mate, and she tried many times to escape his reach, succeeding only when she killed herself. The sacred tree ruled he must be cast out and his powers removed as his crime made him a blight on our kind. That was likely when he offered himself to the Dark Overlord of the time. He lived as a mortal, his longevity being the only fae quality he retained. When Rumlow reappeared as the owner of HYDRA Mining in the 1950s Buck became more visible in the mortal world, concerned about the man's activities. When Buck found your mother, he was concerned about Rumlow trying to kidnap her to reacquire his powers. The realization of your father's bloodline made protecting you even more important. Rumlow would have stripped you of all your powers, keeping you as little more than a concubine, subject to his perversions."

It was frightening to consider what would have happened if Rumlow had taken me that night or had killed Buck during the battle. A cough from Loki brought my attention back to the council.

"You must tell her the rest," he said, solemnly. "It is her right to know, especially now that her powers have begun manifesting before the marriage ceremony and the Solstice rituals. Now that the king knows how Rumlow found them, she must be informed to provide him comfort." He looked at me. "We're aware you were able to hit Rumlow with rocks using your powers. It means your powers are considerable."

Hope swallowed noticeably. "My brother, Richard, the youngest of my father's children, was taken," she said, sadly. "Even though he gave up his fae powers to live as a mortal he still had a bond with my father. He was slain in a ritual that only a dark overlord could perform so that your location could be determined. Then the barrier to the sanctuary was breached with a single thought from another location. Although we thought Rumlow was the Dark Overlord, he was not, as he was already outside the sanctuary waiting for the breach while we searched for Richard before they harmed him. A dark fae prisoner told us Rumlow was a familiar, the overlord's champion. It means the Dark Overlord is someone else, but we don't know who, except that he still lives. I'm sorry, but you're still in danger."

My first thought was Buck, and I left the dining room, running through the hallways, trying to find the healing pool. No matter which way I turned I was led back to the room I left when I first arrived, so I entered the door, finding him curled up on the bed. His grief-stricken face showed that he knew about his son, and I laid next to him, covering him with my arms. As he wept for the loss of his mortal son, I held him, trying to soothe him to the best of my abilities. It was even more important that we go through with the Solstice ritual now. My life depended on it and so did his, I suspected.

Part 6>>

Series masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #fae king bucky #fae bucky #brock rumlow au #thor au #hope van dyne au #loss of a child

[artificial-red-head]

Hell Bent For Leather Part 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Minor Steve Rogers X Natasha Romanov

Summary: You're on the run from your old motorcycle club and abusive ex-boyfriend. You run into a man with the most beautiful blue eyes who somehow finds out who you're running from. He offers you protection and reunites you with someone who you thought was dead.

Tags/Warnings: Biker AU, Paste Abusive Relationships, Dialogue Heavy, Brock Rumlow is a dick

A/N: There is little reader descriptions--only things mentioned is that reader is smaller than Bucky and has hair long enough to braid and be put in a ponytail. Tittle and chapter titles come from the song Hell Bent For Leather by Judas Priest.

Chapter 1:  Seek him here, seek him on the highway

You had ridden out of there as fast as your motorcycle could take you in the early hours of the morning, unsure where the roads would take you. How could you know? You were never allowed off of the property of the clubhouse unless it was for work or if he was with you. After months of slowly saving up money from your job, you had enough to finally get out.  

Two years. Two long years you had been in that damned club. 

Two years since you had lost the only family you had left. 

The road seemed to have stretched on for miles. You wanted to get out of the territory of the club and at least a few towns over. But you needed to stop, you were getting tired. The sun was beginning to set.  

The sun had gone down when you had finally found a place to stay. An old motel right off the road right before an intersection. The sign by the road read ‘Maximoff’s Motel’ in big red painted letters. The open sign out front had flickered slightly as you pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. 

The boy behind the counter eyed you suspiciously. He looked you up and down a few times. You eyed him back. He was small but lean; his bleached hair looked almost silver under the lights. He looked young, too young to be running a motel alone late at night. 

 “How can I help you, ma’am?” He finally spoke after looking at you so intensely. 

His Eastern European accent shocked you a bit. You were used to the country and southern accents and the dialog that came from your old club that made you think that they were uneducated. Most of them probably were. 

“One room, just for the night,” Your voice came out harsh from not speeching all day. You grunted a ‘please’ at the end. 

He asked if you wanted a single or double bed, to which you replied with single. Your voice still sounded harsh as if you were crying. Which you had been hours ago when you first left. 

He handed you a room key after you paid him for the night. You thanked him and he nodded in reply. He was pressing numbers on an old telephone as soon as you turned around to find your room.  

You were unable to sleep. The fear of him finding you and dragging you back prevented you from sleeping for more than about three hours. 

He would not have noticed that you were gone until he got back from work a little after 4 PM. Even then, he usually did not come to find you until later in the night when he wanted physical intimacy from you. Only then would he notice that your motorcycle was gone. That had given you enough time after he left in the morning to get as far as possible without leaving any clues in which direction you had gone in. 

He would not send the entire gang to go find you. He would have done it himself. But he only had so much time outside of the club.  

You finally turned over to look at the time on the analog clock after refusing to look when you first awoke. 5:47 AM. After groaning and changing into the only other change of clothes you brought, you left to go back to the check-in. 

 There was someone else behind the counter this time. A young woman with auburn hair now sat in the boy's place. She looked roughly the same age as the boy, maybe younger. She looked more lively than the boy looked last night. You did not blame him though considering how late it was. 

She greeted you with a friendly hello in the same Eastern European accent and asked if you needed anything. You asked for another night in your room, in which she happily allowed after you placed the cash on the counter. After some hesitation, you asked her where the nearest town was to find a job. 

You must have caught her by surprise because she blinked a few times before answering, “Turn left at the intersection. There’s a small town about 5 minutes down the road. The diner is still requesting help.” 

You thanked her kindly. Her face seemed to have softened before replying with a you’re welcome and a sweet smile.

True to the young woman’s words the diner had been looking for hires. The older waitress who you had talked to looked wearily at you. Everyone in the diner had seen you roll in on your motorcycle. Hell, the entire town had seen you come in. 

You must have looked desperate because the woman had given you the job and uniform and asked you to come in the next day. 

You were unable to sleep again that night. Whether it was the jitters to have to start a new job or the fact that he could have caught up to you by now, you were unsure. 

The clock beside you told you that it was a little after five in the morning. You were not going to get any more sleep and you had to be at the diner at six. 

You relished under the hot water in the shower for a long time. The water at the clubhouse was always cold and the men never seemed to have minded. You never had time to enjoy showers anyways, you did not trust the men in the club when you were most vulnerable. 

You rushed to get ready, unaware of how much time you had accidentally spent in the shower. 

Stopping by the check-in again, both the young woman and the young man were there. They had been conversing with one another before you had stepped in. You asked for another night and you thanked the girl again for recommending the diner. 

She beamed at you and the man’s facial expression seemed to have softened when he saw the look on her face. 

Working at the diner was not too hard. You had worked at a bar when you were back at the club; bartending was not too different from waitressing. Most of the customers were elderly and did not seem to have minded if you made a mistake with their order. Despite this, they still tipped you well, which you greatly appreciated. While you for thankful for the job, it was not the best pay. 

You had been working at the diner for about a week. You rode in on your motorcycle every morning and returned to the motel every night. The routine made you forget what you were running away from. It had not bothered you because you knew that he would have caught up to you by now.

Instead of asking for another night every morning you had asked for another week at the motel, paying with the tips you saved up from the week before. The young woman gave you a deal since you were planning on staying for a while. You thanked her endlessly and she gave you another one of her bright smiles. 

It was suspected to be like any other day at the diner: clock in, prepare for the day, take orders, and do your job. What you had not expected was the man that rolled into the diner with a scowl.  

“Who’s bike is outside?” His voice roared over the quiet chatter of the customers, silencing them all. 

You turned around and were met with a gruff-looking man. His bright blue eyes swept over the diner, undoubtedly looking for someone.  

“Mine.” You answered. You knew by now that you were the only person who owned a motorcycle on that side of town. 

His eyes stopped on you. The scowl on his face disappeared. You knew you were not who he was expecting. He stalked up to the counter you were standing behind. He asked in a softer tone this time. “You in a club, sweetheart?”  

You frowned. That was not the type of question you were expecting. Hell, you were not sure what you were expecting when he came in and started yelling about your motorcycle. And the use of a nickname at the end made you frown deeper. 

“Not anymore.” You replied truthfully with a frown still adorned on your face. 

“And why is that?” He asked, leaning forward on the counter and frowning as well. 

Another question. “I got out.” He gave you a weird look, “For a good reason.”

“What’s a good reason, huh?” 

His continuous questions were starting to piss you off. He had no business to ask you these questions in the first place. It was not a topic that you wanted to discuss with anyone. Let alone a stranger. You were trying to forget your past and the man at the counter in front of you, who you still have yet to learn the name of, would not leave you alone. 

“Do you consider kidnapping me and killing my sister a good enough reason?” You answered in a low tone, but the anger in your voice was evident. 

His eyes widened and he leaned off the counter. He was silent for a moment, thinking before speaking. 

“Shit, honey I’m sorry.”  

He looked genuinely sorry. It took you by surprise. He backed off and walked out without looking back at anyone. 

You ignored the nickname and watched him leave. There was a motorcycle parked next to yours. You watch him as he swung his leg over it and rolled out of the parking lot. 

Your manager who had watched the entire encounter told you to have the rest of the day off after that.

#bucky barnes x reader #biker au #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #steve rogers #natasha romanov #howling commandos #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #brock rumlow

[tikus-library]

"FUBAR"

Avengers AU - Chapter 10

Previous

Characters: Brock Rumlow, OC!Reaper

Posted: April 18th

WARNINGS: kissing, touching, cursing, violence, Canon violence

A/N: It's been a minute since I updated this. Life really has a way of kicking my ass so keep that in mind before yall decide to murder me... XD

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

She tasted like candy, Brock noted. Liquor tainted candy. He could get used to that, he thought, smirking against her lips. “Then make it count,” he had growled, thinking she would shove a hand into his face. He was daring her and he should have known she wouldn't back down. Instead she had paused for a second before leaning in and carefully pressing her soft lips to his. Soft and slow, it made him itch, it made him desperate, it made him NEED MORE, it made him WANT. She was already in his lap, his hand on her waist the other on her leg, he shifted her and tugged her in closer, bringing a hand up and carding it into her short green hair fingers tangling with the stands and tugging as he deepened the kiss.

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#fubar #ch 10 #avengers au #brock rumlow #brock x oc!reaper

[buckyalpine]

Pretty Little Thing Part 7

18+ Minors dni

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

Here is part 7. You told Bucky to fuck you like he owns you. This is pure filth. Pure and utter filth, can’t have it any other way when your abusive husband wants to spy on you. Bucky and you give your shitty husband a show oop- Please like, comment and reblog! <3

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT (spanking, spitting, daddy kink, little voyeurism) , ANGST, forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, FLUFF 

Word count: 4.4k

Part 6 here

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his hands firmly  grabbing your hips, throwing you over his shoulder wasting no time carrying you to his bedroom. Your words went straight to his cock. He only had one goal in mind now; to fuck his pretty little angel into oblivion. Steve remained rooted in place, eyes wide, momentarily pinching himself to be sure he wasn’t experiencing sleep paralysis with Bucky’s demon ass. He popped in his air pods turning the volume all the up before digging further in Rumlow’s stalking.

Bucky shoved the door open, throwing you onto his bed, smirking at the way you bounced off the mattress. You crawled back onto the bed wearing nothing but his t-shirt, your knees pressed together waiting obediently for him to ruin you.

“Tell me what you want baby” Bucky stalked towards you, taking his time to remove his shirt, loving the way you shyly gazed at his body, nervously biting your thumb.

“Want you James” You peeked at him through your lashes as he crawled towards you, his thick arms and muscular body trapping you underneath him.

“New rule. You don’t need clothes when you’re in my room baby” He ran his tongue up your neck, nipping at your earlobe, his voice dark with lust. His hands gripped the neckline, easily tearing the shirt down the middle, tossing it aside. You whimpered as he towered over you, his hands tugging at your nipples making you moan and squeeze your thighs together for some relief. Bucky noticed, moving his hands to your knees, spreading them apart, groaning at the way your folds glistened, your pussy already soaked before he even touched you.

“Why are you so wet baby, who is all this for” Bucky ran his fingers through your slick, coating his fingers before sucking them, moaning at your taste. “So sweet baby, you taste so fucking sweet”

“All for you baby, so wet for you, please James” Your needy voice made his cock jump, your innocent face and pouty lips only made him want to ruin you more. He moved to lay down on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs to keep them apart, his mouth ghosting above where you needed him most. He nipped at the soft flesh on your inner thighs making you cry out, softly kissing the area after.

“Please what baby, tell me what you want” He sucked and kissed your thighs closer and closer to where you need him, purposely avoiding the area, waiting for you to beg.

“I-I want...I want…please baby” Your face heated up as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing along your folds, smirking as you squirmed under his hold.

“Use your words babygirl, tell me what you want me to do” His voice was more commanding now, his grip on your thighs firm, holding you still.

“Eat me out James, please!”

Bucky had a wolfish grin, diving straight into your dripping pussy, lapping and drinking every bit of your arousal as you cried out for him. Your hands gripped the sheets as his licked a long stripe from your core to your clit, moving back to dip his tongue into your needy entrance, his nose brushing your clit as he buried his tongue as far as it would go. He could feel your walls flutter, brining you close to your climax.

“Don’t stop James, don’t stop don’t stop” Your high pitched needy whines made his cock throb, aching to be inside you. Bucky flicked his tongue directly onto your clit, loving the way your body jolted as he rutted against the mattress.

“So sensitive baby, tell me, has anyone one else ever gotten to taste this sweet pussy before”

You shook your head, your lips caught between your teeth silencing the screams that wanted to escape every time his tongue glided over your clit. “No, no one else but you” You whined out, feeling his lips press soft kisses onto the sensitive bundle of nerves, aching for some friction. Bucky growled, wanting to wreck you with his mouth knowing no one else had ever gotten to touch you this way.

“My perfect angel, be a good girl and stay still okay?” His dark eyes bore into you as he latched his lips onto your clit, sucking your sensitive nub while swirling his tongue around. He groaned feeling your walls gush, covering his chin in your arousal.

“Oh God baby” You cried out in pleasure, your back arching off the bed, feeling a harsh slap to the side of your thigh forcing you back down.

“Stay still or I won’t let you cum. You want to cum baby?” You nodded, whimpering, trying to stay still, desperately gripping onto the pillows as Bucky resumed his assault on your clit, your orgasm approaching hard and fast. Bucky pushed a finger into your desperate core, pumping his fingers in and out, quickly adding a second when he felt your walls grip him tighter.

“Can feel you squeezing my fingers babydoll, you gonna cum like a good girl when I tell you?”

You looked at Bucky with glassy eyes, hardly able to nod, your entire body felt like it was on fire with the way he was suckling your clit and fingering you. His tongue swirled perfectly with his fingers, curling at that exact spot. You struggled to hold off, waiting for him to give you permission to cum.

“James please, I’m gonna cum I can’t hold it baby” Your head was thrown back onto the pillows, your hand grabbing onto his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your soaked needy pussy. “Please baby, please” Bucky groaned at the gentle burn he felt every time you tugged his hair. The vibrations from his voice made it impossible for you to hold off any longer.  

“Aww, my baby wants to cum? Did you want to cum baby?” Bucky looked at you sympathetically, while pumping his fingers at an impossibly fast rate causing you to scream out. You felt a pressure in your core you never felt before, your walls gripping onto his fingers, convulsing and dripping. “Tell me y/n, did you want to cum?”

“Yes baby, please, please, please let me cum, want to cum” You struggled not to thrash against the bed, your clit throbbing as his tongue flicked over it.

“Cum for me baby, cum now”

“OH FUCK JAMES JAMES JAMES” Tears spilled down your cheeks as waves and waves of pleasure washed over you like never before. Your entire body went rigid, arousal gushing out of you, soaking his hand. Buckys fingers didn’t let up, continuing to curl and pump into you, groaning as he watched your face contort with pleasure.

“Fuuuck that’s it baby, squirt all over my fingers angel, make a mess on my bed baby” Your eyes rolled back feeling your core clench and flutter again. Your moans were pornographic, feeling a second wave of pleasure washing over you, throwing your into a second unexpected climax.

“I-I-I c-u-cumming a-again baby oh god-

Your body went limp on the bed, your skin flushed, glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Bucky slowly removed his fingers, moaning as he licked them clean. He gently ran his tongue all over your sensitive folds, kissing your sensitive clit as you came down from your high. You sat up, your hands reaching for Bucky’s face, pulling him for a desperate kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, moaning when he felt your hands palm at his aching cock, tugging down at his pants, needing to taste him. He cupped your face, looking at you softly loving how fucked out you already looked before he even started.

“You want my cock doll?” he cooed, his thumbs caressing your cheeks “Tell me what you want baby” He moved on top of you, his thick clothed length right in front of your face, nudging your lips.

“Want to taste you baby, fuck my mouth James” You kissed his hard cock, palming him as he threw his head back, groaning. He stood up, tugging his pants down, his cock slapping your face as it sprang out. You took his cock, rubbing it along your lips, loving the way it glided on you, already dripping with his arousal. Bucky gathered your hair in his hand, moaning at the way precum glistened off your lips. You looked at him with wide eyes, licking your lips clean, moaning at the way he tasted.

“You’re my little slut, aren’t you baby?” You nodded, stroking his cock, playing with his balls in the other hand. The grip on your hair tightened as you teased the tip of his uncut cock with your tongue, licking up the beads of arousal that poured out.  “Show me baby; suck my cock like a good little slut”

Bucky laid back on the pillows, his legs spread as you kneeled between them, keeping your eyes on him. You took his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his thick length, moaning as he started to move your head up and down making you take him deeper. “You can take more, can’t you baby?”  

Yours hands gripped onto his thighs as he thrusted into your mouth making you gag on his cock. Your eyes watered as his tip hit the back of your throat, precum and spit soaking his balls. You took a breath through your nose, taking his entire length down your throat, catching him off guard. Bucky groaned, his head thrown back as you bobbed your head up and down with his cock down your tight throat.

“Oh fuckkk y/n, just like that baby, just like that, take my cock in your mouth” He held your face in place as he continued to grind his hips into your mouth, his cock leaking each time you choked on him. You pulled of his cock for air, tears streaming down your cheeks, drool covering your lips, moving down to take his balls in your mouth as you tugged his length.

“Fuck yess baby, suck my balls babydoll, get them nice and wet, such a perfect little whore for me” He gripped your hair, brining your face closer as you lapped and sucked him, rolling his balls in your mouth, continuing to stroke his cock.

“You taste soo good babyy” You moaned, running your tongue up the prominent vein that ran along his cock, wrapping your lips around the sensitive head again. Every groan that left his lips caused your stomach to clench, your pussy aching to be stretched and filled by him. Your hands trailed down to play with your clit, dipping a finger into yourself, whimpering as you fucked yourself while sucking him.

“My desperate little cockslut, why are you touching yourself baby” Bucky pulled you off his cock, holding you on top of him, running his tongue along your lips, soaked with his precum and your spit.

“Need you, want your cock in me” You whined, moaning when Bucky nipped your lips, running his hands down your back, spanking your ass.

“Good girls don’t touch themselves baby” Bucky cooed, shaking his head, the coolness of his metal hand easing the sting slightly before you spanked you again, making you cry out. “You want my cock to stretch you out?” 

You nodded, sitting up on his dripping length, rutting yourself on him, moaning as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock. 

“Look at you, rubbing yourself on me, why are you so slutty baby?” You moaned, grinding yourself harder as he stroked your thighs, soothing your skin before slapping your ass again.

“Only slutty for you daddy” You whined for him, not noticing what you called him, your eyes squeezed shut as you rocked your hips on him. Bucky stilled, the bruising grip he had on your thighs was going to leave marks as he squeezed the soft flesh.

“What did you call me?” He snarled his voice deep, eyes dark with nothing but lust.

You froze, eyes wide, not realizing you let it slip out. You bit your lip nervously, your eyes refusing to meet his.

“I….I didn’t…”

“Say it” Bucky spanked you, squeezing your ass in his hands as you cried out, tears prickling your eyes from the sting. “Say it again baby”

“Daddy!” Your needy voice made his cock twitch as he rubbed the sensitive skin, your arousal soaking his length.

“That’s right baby, I’m your fucking daddy” Bucky smirked, wiping away a tear that streamed down your cheek. “Poor baby, you need my cock, don’t you?”

You nodded, rubbing yourself on him, “Want to fuck you, need daddy’s cock to stretch me”

Bucky could have sworn he had died and gone to heaven in that moment, watching you desperately rut and grind against him, begging for his cock, he felt his balls grow heavy with cum each time you whimpered.

“Come here baby, take what you need” He settled against the pillows, a devilish grin on his lips as you straddled his thick muscular thighs positioning yourself above his dripping cock, pumping it a few times before lining yourself up with him.

“Go on baby, ride daddy’s cock” Bucky’s arms were folded under his head, biting his lip as he watched you struggle to sink down on him, your nails digging into his chest leaving little crescent indents.

“You’re so fucking big daddy” You whined, your head thrown back as you started slowly inching down on him until you bottomed out. You never felt this full before in your life, his cock filling you up more than you thought was physically possible. You barely moved, feeling the sting slowly melt into pleasure making your walls squeeze his cock.

You started the slowly bounce on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix each time you came down. Your lips were parted; brows knitted together as you started to move faster, making a creamy mess all over his cock. Bucky groaned, watching the way your pussy swallowed him, your arousal squirting out of you each time your hips came down.

“O-oh f-fuck, hurts so good baby, why is your cock so big daddy” You felt your thighs burn as you continued to move, your climax steadily building in your belly. You felt your walls struggle clench and squeeze around his thick length.

Bucky watched the way your breasts bounced in front of his face; moving up slightly to pull your stuff peak into his mouth. You moaned, gushing around him as he continued to suck and swirls his tongue around your taut nipple. His hand moved to rub slowly circles on your sensitive clit, loving the way you mewled when he sped up his movements.

Your movements began to stutter as you felt your climax build up, gripping on his shoulders, struggling to stay up. Your arms gave way as you fell against him; moaning into the crook of his neck as you felt the band tighten, ready to snap.

Bucky stroked your hair, rubbing your back as you panted against him, your legs trembling from exhaustion.

“Aww my cockdrunk baby, is daddy’s fat cock too much for you to handle?”

You whimpered, nodding as your body went limp, clinging onto him. Bucky smirked, planting his feet and wrapping his arms around you, fucking up into you as you cried on, biting down onto his shoulder to keep from screaming.

“You want to cum on daddy’s cock baby? Cum on my cock baby, fuck- make a nice creamy mess on me”

“I’m cumming daddy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Your pussy rapidly clenched around him, the band snapping, your vision going white, blood coursing through your ears, all your senses heightened.

“You like that huh baby? You like daddy’s cock? Fuck squeezing me so tight angel, pussy was made for me”

Bucky could feel his cock throb, desperate to fill you with loads of his cum, struggling to hold off as you moaned, squeezing him. He pulled you off his cock, pushing you down onto the bed with your ass up and face pushed down. His hand pressed onto your back making you arch more, getting the perfect full view of your swollen abused pussy. A mixture of your arousal and his precum dripped out of you as Bucky smeared his swollen head through your folds, smirking as you whimpered from sensitivity. He gripped his cock, nudging against your entrance.

“Think you can give me one more baby?”

“S’sensitive daddy, c-can’t” You whined, your voice muffled, buried in the mattress.

“Can’t princess? You sure baby?” Bucky pushed the tip of his cock in, moaning at the new angle letting him fuck you even deeper than before. He grabbed your hips, slamming into you in one swift motion.

“AH FUCK DADDY” You cried out, you could feel his cock all the way you your stomach, hitting your g spot, black spots already clouding your vision as you felt your third orgasm starting to build. “Pleasee fuckk me daddyy”

Having you bent over in front of him, begging for his cock, made his cock throb, a steady dribble of his arousal pouring into you. His pace picked up as he remembered your words from earlier. “Fuck me like you own me”, possessiveness clouding his mind and he started to ram his cock into you at an indescribable pace.

“Tell me you fucking slut, does your husband fuck you like this?” His balls slapped against you, heavy with cum, ready to fill you any second. “Did he ever get to touch you like this?”

“N-no, only you baby, only you” You slurred out, cockdrunk over the way his fingers dug into your skin, his hips snapping and bruising your ass.

“Who owns you baby, who do you belong to?!” Bucky’s mind continued to fog between pleasure and possession, leave your pussy gaping and stretched out, he had to ruin you for anyone else,. His breaths grew heavy as his balls started to tighten, his spine tingling and he felt warmth begin to spread through is body.

“I’m yours daddy, all yours” Your voice was raspy from screaming, eyes rolling back as his balls slapped against your clit, the band ready to snap again.

“Show your husband how good girls cum baby, my slutty little fucktoy, you ever gonna let him touch you? Fuck you the way I do? Make you scream like this?!” “O-o-nly you James, f-f-uck only you, he’s never touched me!” You screamed out as the band snapped, sending you into a spiral, your body slack as you  squeezed and milked his cock. You gripped onto the sheets, tearing them as he continued to pound into you chasing his release.

“And he never fucking will, this pussy is fucking MINE” Bucky roared, his thrusts stilling as he gripped your hips, slamming his cock as deep as it would go shooting endless loads of hot cum into you. His body gave way, collapsing on top of you, gently rutting inside you, loving the way his sensitive cock continued to pour into you. He moved your now damp hair out of your face pressing sloppy kisses onto your temple, whispering sweet nothings as he came down from his climax.

“So full of my cum angel, you make me cum so hard for you baby” He laced his hands on top of yours, breathing in the scent of your hair, his cock slowly softening. Bucky hissed, pulling pulled his cock out, stroking your head as you whimpered from the soreness that began to set in.

“Come here babygirl” Bucky pull you up, setting you against the pillows, kissing your forehead, trailing kisses down your body. He laid on his stomach, spreading your legs apart; groaning at the way his cum dripped out of you. “Let me clean you up angel”

He licked up your mixed arousal, humming at the taste and the way you whined each time he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. His tongue swirled on the swollen nub causing you to cry out, pushing him away from overstimulation. He slapped the side of your thigh, draping his arm across your hips to keep you in place.

“Stay still princess, this pussy’s mine” He ran his tongue gently through your core, making sure to lick up every bit of his and your cum that soaked your puffy folds. He came up, his lips glistening with cum.

“Open up baby girl” Buckys fingers pressed into your cheeks, forcing you to open wide as he spit in your mouth.

You moaned at the taste, brining him down for a heated kiss, your tongue tangled with his as you relished the way his cum tasted mixed with yours. “You taste good daddy”

“My sweet angel, you did so good for me baby” Bucky pressed a soft kiss onto your forehead as you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. Your legs tangled with his as you snuggled into his chest, breathing in his scent. Your leg hitched around him, needing him closer, waves of sleep washing over you. Bucky let his hand trace over your body, stopping when you let out a pained whimper when he touched your ass. His heart dropped as you clutched onto him, your skin still stinging from earlier.

“Baby did I hurt you?”

“No, just sore” You smiled softly but he saw you wince as you shifted, his heart racing. Bucky slipped into the bathroom, returning quickly with a cool washcloth and some lotion.

“Here baby, is this okay?” Bucky laid the cool towel onto your sensitive skin, stroking your back as you laid on your stomach, sighing happily into the pillows.

“Feels good baby, thank you” You giggled at Bucky’s pouty face, his sad puppy dog eyes glancing up at you. He removed the cloth, peppering light kisses onto your skin before gently massaging a cool lotion onto the area. “This will help with some of the swelling, I’m sorry princess”

“Come here baby” You grabbed onto him, pulling him onto of you. You caressed his scruffy cheek, softly kissing him all over his face, suddenly biting his bottom lip that jutted out.

“Ow!” Bucky yelped as you held his lip between your teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh.

“Now we’re even” You grinned, playfully nipping his lips again, gasping as he suddenly rolled on top of you, pinning your hands above your head.

“Hmm, careful babygirl…might not be so gentle with you again” His eyes turned dark as he brushed his lips against yours. You spread your legs for him, biting his lip making him groan, his cock already stirring.

“Show me daddy”

It was going to be very a long night.

Rumlow’s office

Rumlow sat at his desk, his finger tracing over the scars you left him with as he twirled an ice cube in his glass, staring at the wedding portrait of you and him. It wasn’t difficult getting the cameras and sound set up; a few gentle threats to dispose of someone’s family was a convincing way to get what he needed.

He was seething the first say he saw you in Bucky’s room, no wedding ring on your finger, your nose tucked in a book, curled under the sheets, cuddled up beside him. Stupid cheating little bitch. Of course, you were disgustingly innocent, every time he had Walker or Loki check the footage of what you were up to, you were either sleeping or reading. He laughed to himself, thinking about how badly Bucky must have wanted to fuck you, only to be given the same cold shoulder he had to endure for months. A knock at his door broke him out of his thoughts, with a dishevelled looking Walker peeking inside.

“What do you want?” Rumlow barked, planning his next move, skimming through the files he had laid on his desk.

“Its about Barnes…uh- your wife…” Walker swallowed thickly; sweat beading at his forehead as he clutched a laptop to his chest.

“Hmm. Barnes and my wife. That dumb bitch wouldn’t know what to do with a cock if it slapped her in the face”

Walker nearly snorted, having watched Bucky’s cock hit your face, opening you mouth to gag and choke on his cock, sucking and bouncing on it like a porn star.

“Uh boss…you might want to see this…” His face was flushed red as he shifted at the door, desperately trying to hide his boner.

“What, does he have blue balls now? What is it?!” Rumlow snorted, his face slightly dropping as he saw Walker holding the laptop that streamed the footage from Bucky’s room. Rumlow glared at him, noticing the very obvious tent in John’s pants, his poor job at hiding it only made it worse.

“I swear to god motherfucker if you come an inch closer to me with that shit-

Before he could finish, Walker opened the laptop, pressing play, your pornographic screams filling the room. Rumlow felt his blood run cold as he watched you spread out on Bucky’s bed, moaning and crying out for him. His veins filled with rage as he forwarded the footage, unable to stop, watching you spread your legs for Bucky, shamelessly grinding on his cock, licking his cock, sucking his balls, letting him bend you over taking you from behind, letting him cum balls deep in you. He felt white hot anger as you lazily smiled at Bucky, letting him spit in your mouth, wrapping your naked body around his.  

“THIS FUCKING LITTLE DIRTY SLUT” Rumlow grabbed his gun, shooting the laptop screen, silencing your moans, next sending two bullets to your wedding picture, aiming perfectly between your eyebrows. “THAT STUPID SLUTTY LITTLE WHORE” He replayed Bucky’s words in his head repeatedly “Does your husband fuck you like this?”  his chest heaving with rage.

“Boss, what should we- Walker dodged the crystal glass chucked at his head, letting it smash on the wall.

“YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET THAT FUCKING SHIT OUT OF MY FACE”

Walker couldn’t tell if he was referring to the now broken laptop or his still obvious boner, immediately retreating from the office, not waiting to find out.

Rumlow paced around the room knowing it’d be difficult for him to attack you or Bucky directly, but he didn’t need to do that yet. He grabbed the files on his desk, calling Loki to take care of business. He skimmed through the files, his unhinged grin growing on his face.

Winifred Barnes, Rebecca Barnes, Sarah Wilson, Cass Wilson, AJ Wilson, Marisa Tomei.

“Enjoy his cock wile you can y/n”

Part 8

- 

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479​ 

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[abbatoirablaze]

Surrogate Luna, Chapter 7

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings:  medical situations, major angst, mentions of being poisoned.

The seasons seemed to change just as quickly as Sharon disappeared with Brock and a trusted few of her own from her pack, leaving Steve and Cinna to their own happiness. 

While the pack was excited about Steve’s incoming pup, they were also on edge, constantly training in case Sharon came back looking for war. 

But Steve hadn’t expected her to come back so late into Cinna’s pregnancy.  Nearly two months had passed before she arrived again, boastful with her new sweetened scent and the assurance that she was with Brock’s pup as well. 

Steve didn’t care though.

He chose instead to ignore Sharon, and dote on Cinna and his pup, moving into Cinna’s quarters permanently. 

And in the mean time, Cinna had gotten along famously with the pack, fulfilling the duties of the alpha’s mate that Sharon had long ignored with Wanda, Maria, and Sarah always accompanying her. 

But Cinna knew that as part of the program, the good times always end.  Every night that Steve spent beside her meant one less night with the pack that she was growing so fond of.  So, it shocked Steve to his core when she seemed sad the day that their pup started kicking.

“Why are you not happy, luna?” Steve asked with a frown as his hand still rested on Cinna’s growing stomach, “are pup is happy and healthy, bouncing every day as he grows.”

“Can I be honest with you, Steve?”

Steve felt a knot in his stomach with the way she spoke, “What’s wrong, Cinna?  Is something wrong with our pup?  Are you-“

“I’m scared,” she said quickly, cutting him off, “I’m scared, Steve!”

Steve gave a heavy sigh. 

Part of him let like that was in part to Sharon. 

While she too had begun to grow, her stomach swelling more by the day as well, she had been just as threatening and intimidating to Cinna as the day that she’d been brought back to the packhouse.

“Nothing will happen with Sharon,” he tried to reassure her.  He leaned forward and rubbed his nose against her own, “none of her or her pac-“

“I don’t want to leave!”

Steve stopped speaking.

“Leave?” he asked, “What on earth are you talking about?  You’re not leaving.”

“I-I know that when I birth our pup…your pup…my contract is up,” she said quickly, giving him another sad look, “I don’t wan-“

“You’re not leaving me, omega,” Steve growled, feeling overwhelmed and territorial of his omega, “Cinna…I marked you.  I love you.  You are my Luna.  My true mate.  You are not going back to the program.  Ever!”

Her eyes met his, the shock making Steve’s heart break as he thought about how this must have been weighing on her mind so much that she was surprised to hear his declaration of devotion. 

“What?”

“Omega…I-I thought you knew it from the day that I brought you to the den,” he said quickly as he stroked her cheek, “the day I caught your scent in the facility…I made them promise you to me.  I had my pack lawyers go and break your contract.  You allowing me to mark you was the requirement, as it showed that I truly wanted to keep you for more than just creating pups.  Once I dissolve my relationship with Sharon…somehow…I want to have a true mating ceremony.  I-I want you to mark me as well omega.  You’re my omega…and I am your alpha.  You are my Luna.  My everything!”

“Really?”

Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to hers, “yes, omega…really…”

She breathed a sigh of relief after studying Steve’s eyes for a moment, “I-I love you Steve!”

“And I love you, Cinna,” Steve replied sweetly, his hands still on her stomach, “and our pup…the first of many if I have my way!”

“I think you’ll always have your way, Steve!”

Steve rumbled loudly, a smirk growing on his face, “I think I like the sound of that, omega!”

“WE ARE ALMOST AT THE END OF OUR JOURNEY!” Steve claimed, his glass held high as he looked next to himself where Cinna was round with his child, “EIGHT MONTHS MY OMEGA HAS BEEN PREPARING FOR OUR PUP.  HELPING BREATHE LIFE INTO HIM.  HELPING HIM GROW IN THE SAFETY AND SECURITY OF OUR PACK!  AND I WANTED TO CELEBRATE WITH ALL OF YOU.  MY LOYAL PACK MATES.  WE HAVE CHOSEN TO NAME HIM STEVEN, THE SECOND OF HIS NAME, AFTER MYSELF!”

The pack roared with excitement at Steve’s toast. 

“More, luna?” one of the girls offered, holding the pitcher away from herself, extending it in offerance to the woman.

“Yes please?” Cinna smiled politely, before turning her attention back to Steve.  

“AND TO SHARON AND HER PACK,” Steve continued, trying to extend an olive branch to the woman he was still promised to, “FOR SHE AND BROCK HAVE CONCEIVED A PUP AS WELL.  AND FROM WHAT I AM TOLD, HE WILL BE A STRONG PUP TOO!  BOTH PACKS HAVE BEEN SECURED WITH HEIRS!”

Sharon’s pack cheered this time. 

“Let our packs be kind in peace, and share our borders as they have for years,” Steve offered, “to Packs Rogers and Carter!”

“ROGERS AND CARTER!”

Everyone took a sip from their glasses, with both Sharon and Cinna partaking in a non-alcoholic version. 

But the reaction was instantaneous within Steve. Across his own bond he could feel that something was wrong with Cinna. 

Worriedly, he looked over to her, and saw it in her eyes. 

“HEALER!” Steve yelled, calling for someone to help his omega as she dropped her cup and fell to the floor, “HEALER!”

“We can’t wait!”

“I need to-“

“Alpha, you can’t come any further!” one of the doctors said quickly as they tried to push the aggressive alpha away from the gurney which they’d been rushing to the operating room, “we just need to know your wishes!”

“Wishes?”

“If it comes down to it,” the doctor said nervously, not wanting to say what Steve had already been thinking, “if it comes to your pup or your omega-“

“My omega!” he said quickly, “I-I can’t lose Cinna!”

“We’ll do our best, alpha!”

Words couldn’t describe how Steve had felt. 

How he was reacting. 

“Well?”

“She was poisioned,” Maria admitted, not daring to look her alpha in the eye, “her glass-“

“WHO DID IT!” he roared.

“We don’t know…” Wanda admitted even more nervously, “there wasn’t any way to trace it.  The person refilling cups was knocked out.  N-none of us were paying attention.”

“THAT IS MY MATE!” he screamed, pointing in the direction of the operating room, “BECAUSE NONE OF YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION, SHE MIGHT DIE!  MY PUP MIGHT DIE!  I HAD-“

“Steve…” Sam tried, cutting off the alpha.  He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

But Steve shook his head at him, the tears streaking down his cheeks, “before she went in, the doctor asked me who I would save if I could only save one of them…I want whoever did this in the dungeon before the full moon!”

“Steve…that’s in two days!”

“Be happy I’m giving you that time…” he growled, shooting daggers at Maria, Sam, Sarah, and Wanda, “if she dies…if my pup dies…I don’t know what I’ll do!”

Cinna’s eyes opened, and everything was blurry.

Everything ached. 

It felt like she’d been hit by a truck, and her body parts had been thrown back in and her body sewn shut without any order.

“CINNA!”

Instantly Cinna was overwhelmed by the anxiety lacing Steve’s scent. 

She could hardly see him because everything was too bright and blurry, but she knew him by his scent.  She went to lift a hand, but Steve grabbed hold of her. 

“Wh-what happened?” she asked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the hospital room, “Wh-where am I?”

“The pack hospital!” he answered quickly. 

It was then that Cinna noticed the tears in Steve’s eyes, and her mind went to the worst possible scenario.  She looked down at her stomach and noticed that it was smaller.  Her own eyes went wide, “o-our pup!  Steve where is-“

A crying interrupted her question. 

Her eyes watered, and tears started to fall down her cheeks as she caught the whines of her pup.  Steve rushed away from her to scoop the newborn up, before bringing him right back, “he-he’s fine, omega.  Our baby boy is fine.  He came into the world fighting…”

“Stevie!” Cinna whimpered, reaching out to take her pup. 

The newborn’s eyes opened, and her heart melted; the bond between mother and son instant.  Stevie stopped crying and looked at his mother curiously with eyes that mirrored his fathers.

“I-I was worried about you!” Steve admitted, “they-they got him out before the poison affected him…but you-“

“He’s okay!” she cooed, her eyes unwavering from her little boy as she cradled him against her breast, “Steve…he-he’s okay.  Stevie’s okay!  Our pup is alright and that’s all that matters.  He’s here!  And he’s perfect!”

“I’m going to kill whoever did this to you, omega!” Steve promised as he reached out to her, “I-I want you to know that!”

“I’m just glad that Stevie’s okay…” she sobbed, kissing the top of her son’s head.   With her free hand, she reached out and took Steve’s hand in her own, “Steve…I-I want to do the ceremony…if someone’s willing to try and kill us…I-I don’t want to hide behind excuses of why we can’t…I-I don’t care what Sharon’s pack thinks…we need to do what’s best for our pack!”

Steve felt a sense of pride filling his chest as he listened to her words.  He lifted her hand up and kissed it, “whatever you want, Luna…”

Chapter 8

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72, @mrsevans90

#surrogate luna #a/b/o fic #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o #marvel #marvel au #the avengers #steve rogers #captain america #sharon carter #brock rumlow #alpha steve rogers

[madamebaggio]

A Darcy x Jack x Brock and Christmas shopping? Please!

Notes: It's always a pleasure!

***

“How about this one?”

Darcy tilted her head, even as her eyes followed Jack’s trajectory. “I’ll admit that this is unexpected.”

Brock chuckled. “What do you mean?”

“I always thought that I was the most Christmas-y person ever, but…” She threw a look at Jack, “I’ve never expected to be beaten by Jack.”

Jack, who was running around the store like a lunatic, looking for presents.

“Jack likes giving presents for Christmas.” Brock shrugged.

“That’s… Specific.”

“Remember that leather jacket you used to make fun of? The one I wear a lot?”

“Yeah.”

“Jack gave it to me on our first Christmas together.” Brock smiled fondly. “He likes spoiling the people he loves, so you should be prepared.”

Darcy was feeling all mushy now. “And how can we spoil him?”

“He’s pretty partial to blowjobs.”

“BROCK!”

Jack approached them with an arched eyebrow. “What’s going on here?”

“Brock is being ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that an ugly sweater?”

“Yes.” He showed her the horrendous purple monstrosity. “Great, right?”

“Well, if by ‘great’ you mean ‘ugly as shit’, then yeah. It’s great.”

Jack’s smile was endearingly boyish. “Exactly! Hill and I exchange ugly sweaters every year.”

“Hill?” Darcy was shocked.

“Yes. Anyway…” He looked around like he was already ten presents ahead of them. “Let’s get something for Brock’s mother.”

“She loves his presents.” Brock informed Darcy.

“That’s a lot of new information.” Darcy mused to herself.

#madame baggio #crackship #snippet #au #mcu #requests #darcy lewis #brock rumlow #jack rollins #darcy lewis x jack rollins x brock rumlow